Of Appelmann's knavery—Item, how the birthday of her Highness was celebrated, and Sidonia managed to get to the dance, with the uproar caused thereby.

Before I proceed further, it will be necessary to state what happened a few days before concerning Prince Ernest's chief equerry, Johann Appelmann, otherwise many might doubt the facts I shall have to relate, though God knows I speak the pure truth.

One came to his lordship the Grand Chamberlain—he was a shoemaker of the town—and complained to him of Appelmann, who had been courting his daughter for a long while, and running after her until finally he had disgraced her in the eyes of the whole town, and brought shame and scandal into his house. So he prayed Lord Ulrich to make the shameless profligate take his daughter to wife, as he had fairly promised her marriage long ago.

Now Ulrich had long suspected the knave of bad doings, for many pearls and jewels had lately been missing from her Grace's shabrack and horse-trappings, and the groom, who always laid them on her Grace's white palfrey, knew nothing about them, though he was even put to the torture; but as Appelmann had all these things in his sole keeping, it was natural to think that he was not quite innocent. Besides, three hundred sacks of oats were missing on the new year, and no one knew what had become of them.

Therefore Ulrich sent for the cheating rogue, and upbraided him with his profligate courses, also telling him that he must wed the shoemaker's daughter immediately. But the cunning knave knew better, and swore by all the saints that he was innocent, and finally prevailed upon Prince Ernest to intercede for him, so that Ulrich promised to give him a little longer grace, but then assuredly he would bring him to a strict account.

And Appelmann drove the Prince that same day to Grypswald, to find out more musicians for the castle band, as the march of Duke Bogislaff the Great was to be played by eighty drums and forty trumpets in the grand ducal hall, to honour the birthday of her Highness.

One can imagine what Sidonia felt when the Duchess announced that as she had refused to learn the catechism, and was neither obedient to God nor her Grace, she should remain a strict prisoner in her own room during the festival, as a signal punishment for her ungodly behaviour. But her maid might bring her food of all that she chose from the feast.

Sidonia first prayed her Grace to forgive her for the love of God, and she would learn the whole catechism by heart. But as this had no effect, then she wept and lamented loudly, and at length fell down upon her knees before her Grace, who would, however, be neither moved nor persuaded; and when Sidonia threatened at last to leave her room, the Duchess went out, locked the door, and put the key in her pocket. The prisoner howled enough then, I warrant.

But what did she do now, the cunning minx? She gave her maid a piece of gold, and told her to go up and down the corridor, crying and wringing her hands, and when any one asked what was the matter, to say, "That her beautiful young lady was dying of grief, because the Duchess had locked her up, like a little school-girl, in her own room, and all for not knowing the catechism of Dr. Gerschovius, which indeed was not taught in her part of the country, but another, which she had learned quite well in her childhood. And so for this, her poor young lady was not to be allowed to dance at the festival." The maid was to say all this in particular to Prince Ernest; or if he did not pass through the corridor, she was to stop weeping and groaning at his chamber-door, until he came out to ask what was the matter.

The maid followed the instructions right well, and in less than an hour every soul in the castle, down to the cooks and washerwomen, knew what had happened, and everywhere the Duchess went she was assailed by old and young, great and small, with petitions of pardon for Sidonia.

Her Grace, however, bid them all be silent, and threatened if they made such shameless requests to forbid the festival altogether. But when Prince Ernest likewise petitioned in her favour, she was angry, and said, "He ought to be ashamed of himself. It was now plain what a fool the girl had made of him. Her maternal heart would break, she knew it would—and this day would be one of sorrow in place of joy to her; all on account of this girl."

So the young Prince had to hold his peace for this time; but he sent a message, nevertheless, to Sidonia, telling her not to fret, for that he would take her out of her room and bring her to the dance, let what would happen.

Next morning, by break of day, the whole castle and town were alive with preparations for the festival. It was now seven years—that is, since the death of Duke Philip—since any one had danced in the castle except the rats and mice, and even yet the splendour of this festival is talked of in Wolgast; and many of the old people yet living there remember it well, and gave me many curious particulars thereof, which I shall set down here, that it may be known how such affairs were conducted in old time at our ducal courts.

In the morning, by ten of the clock, the young princes, nobles, clergy, and the honourable counsellors of the town, assembled in the grand ducal hall, built by Duke Philip after the great fire, and which extended up all through the three stories of the castle. At the upper end of the hall was the grand painted window, sixty feet high, on which was delineated the pilgrimage of Duke Bogislaff the Great to Jerusalem, all painted by Gerard Homer; [Footnote: A Frieslander, and the most celebrated painter on glass of his time.] and round on the walls banners, and shields, and helmets, and cuirasses, while all along each side, four feet from the ground, there were painted on the walls figures of all the animals found in Pomerania: bears, wolves, elks, stags, deer, otters, &c., all exquisitely imitated.

When all the lords had assembled, the drums beat and trumpets sounded, whereupon the Pomeranian marshal flung open the great doors of the hall, which were wreathed with flowers from the outside, and the princely widow entered with great pomp, leading the little Casimir by the hand. She was arrayed in the Pomeranian costume—namely, a white silk under-robe, and over it a surcoat of azure velvet, brocaded with silver, and open in front. A long train of white velvet, embroidered in golden laurel wreaths, was supported by twelve pages dressed in black velvet cassocks with Spanish ruffs. Upon her head the Duchess wore a coif of scarlet velvet with small plumes, from which a white veil, spangled with silver stars, hung down to her feet. Round her neck she had a scarlet velvet band, twisted with a gold chain; and from it depended a balsam flask, in the form of a greyhound, which rested on her bosom.

As her Serene Highness entered with fresh and blushing cheeks, all bowed low and kissed her hand, glittering with diamonds. Then each offered his congratulations as best he could.

Amongst them came Johann Neander, Archdeacon of St. Peter's, who was seeking preferment, considering that his present living was but a poor one; and so he presented her Grace with a printed tractatum dedicated to her Highness, in which the question was discussed whether the ten virgins mentioned in Matt. xxv. were of noble or citizen rank. But Doctor Gerschovius made a mock of him for this afterwards, before the whole table. [Footnote: Over these exegetical disquisitions of a former age we smile, and with reason; but we, pedantic Germans, have carried our modern exegetical mania to such absurd lengths, that we are likely to become as much a laughing-stock to our contemporaries, as well as to posterity, as this Johannes Neander. In fact, our exegetists are mostly pitiful schoolmasters—word-anatomists—and one could as little learn the true spirit of an old classic poet from our pedantic philologists, as the true sense of holy Scripture from our scholastic theologians. What with their grammar twistings, their various readings, their dubious punctuations, their mythical, and who knows what other meanings, their hair-splittings, and prosy vocable tiltings, we find at last that they are willing to teach us everything but that which really concerns us, and, like the Danaides, they let the water of life run through the sieve of their learning. We may apply to them truly that condemnation of our Lord's (Matt, xxiii. 24)—"Ye blind guides; ye strain at a gnat, and swallow a camel."]

Now, when all the congratulations were over, the Duchess asked Prince Ernest if the water-works in the courtyard had been completed, [Footnote: The Prince took much interest in hydraulics, and built a beautiful and costly aqueduct for the town of Wolgast.] and when he answered "Yes," "Then," quoth her Grace, "they shall run with Rostock beer to-day, if it took fifty tuns; for all my people, great and small, shall keep festival to-day; and I have ordered my court baker to give a loaf of bread and a good drink to every one that cometh and asketh. And now, as it is fitting, let us present ourselves in the church."

So the bells rung, and the whole procession swept through the corridor and down the great stairs, with drums and trumpets going before. Then followed the marshal with his staff, and the Grand Chamberlain, Ulrich von Schwerin, wearing his beautiful hat (a present from her Highness), looped up with a diamond aigrette, and spangled with little golden stars. Then came the Duchess, supported on each side by the young princes, her sons; and the nobles, knights, pages, and others brought up the rear, according to their rank and dignity.

As they passed Sidonia's room, she began to beat the door and cry like a little spoiled child; but no one minded her, and the procession moved on to the courtyard, where the soldatesca fired a salute, not only from their muskets, but also from the great cannon called "the Old Aunt," which gave forth a deep joy-sigh. From all the castle windows hung banners and flags bearing the arms of Pomerania and Saxony, and the pavement was strewed with flowers.

As they passed Sidonia's window she opened it, and appeared magnificently attired, and glittering with pearls and diamonds, but also weeping bitterly. At this sight old Ulrich gnashed his teeth for rage, but all the young men, and Prince Ernest in particular, felt their hearts die in them for sorrow. So they passed on through the great north gate out on the castle wall, from whence the whole town and harbour were visible. Here the flags fluttered from the masts and waved from the towers, and the people clapped their hands and cried "Huzza!" (for in truth they had heard about the beer, to my thinking, before the Princess came out upon the walls). Summa: There was never seen such joy; and after having service in church, they all returned to the castle in the same order, and set themselves down to the banquet.

I got a list of the courses at the table of the Duchess from old KÜssow, and I shall here set it down, that people may see how our fathers banqueted eighty years ago in Pomerania; but, God help us! in these imperial days there is little left for us to grind our teeth upon. So smell thereat, and you will still get a delicious savour from these good old times.

First Course.—1. A soup; 2. An egg-soup, with saffron, peppercorns, and honey thereon; 3. Stewed mutton, with onions strewed thereon; 4. A roasted capon, with stewed plums.

Second Course.—1. Ling, with oil and raisins; 2. Beef, baked in oil; 3. Eels, with pepper; 4. Dried fish, with Leipsic mustard.

Third Course.—1. A salad, with eggs; 2. Jellies strewed with almond and onion seed; 3. Omelettes, with honey and grapes; 4. Pastry, and many other things besides.

Fourth Course.—1. A roast goose with red beet-root, olives, capers, and cucumbers; 2. Little birds fried in lard, with radishes; 3. Venison; 4. Wild boar, with the marrow served on toasted rolls. In conclusion, all manner of pastry, with fritters, cakes, and fancy confectionery of all kinds.

So her Grace selected something from each dish herself, and despatched it to Sidonia by her maid; but the maiden would none of them, and sent all back with a message that she had no heart to gormandise and feast; but her Grace might send her some bread and water, which was alone fitting for a poor prisoner to receive.

The young men could bear this no longer, their patience was quite exhausted, and their courage rose as the wine-cups were emptied. So at length Prince Ernest whispered to his brother Bogislaus to put in a good word for Sidonia. He refused, however, and Prince Ernest was ashamed to name her himself; but some of the young pages who waited on her Grace were bold enough to petition for her pardon, whereupon her Grace gave them a very sharp reproof.

After dinner the Duchess and Prince Bogislaus went up the stream in a pleasure-boat to try the tame sea-gull, and her Grace requested Lord Ulrich to accompany them. But he answered that he was more necessary to the castle that evening than a night-watch in a time of war, particularly if the young Prince was to have Rostock beer play from the fountains in place of water.

And soon his words came true, for when the Duchess had sailed away the young men began to drink in earnest, so that the wine ran over the threshold down the great steps, and the peasants and boors who were going back and forward with dried wood to the ducal kitchen, lay down flat on their faces, and licked up the wine from the steps (but the Almighty punished them for this, I think, for their children now are glad enough to sup up water with the geese).

Meanwhile many of the youths sprang up, swearing that they would free Sidonia; others fell down quite drunk, and knew nothing more of what happened. Then old Ulrich flew to the corridor, and marched up and down with his drawn dagger in his hand, and swore he would arrest them all if they did not keep quiet; that as to those who were lying dead drunk like beasts, he must treat them like other beasts—whereupon he sends to the castle fountain for buckets of cold water, and pours it over them. Ha! how they sprang up and raged when they felt it; but he only laughed and said—if they would not hold their peace he would treat them still worse; they ought to be ashamed of their filthiness and debauchery. [Footnote: Almost all writers of that age speak of the excesses to which intoxication was carried in all the ducal courts, but particularly that of Pomerania.]

But now to the uproar within was added one from without, for when the fountains began to play with Rostock beer, all the town ran thither, and drank like leeches, while they begged the serving-wenches to bring them loaves to eat with it. How the old shoemaker threw up his cap in the air, and shouted—"Long live her Grace! no better Princess was in the whole world—they hoped her Grace might live for many years and celebrate every birthday like this!" Then they would pray for her right heartily, and the women chattered and cackled, and the children screamed so that no one could hear a word that was saying, and Sidonia tried for a long time in vain to make them hear her. At last she waved a white kerchief from the window, when the noise ceased for a little, and she then began the old song, namely, "Would they release her?"

Now there were some brave fellows among them to whom she had given drink-money, or purchased goods from, and they now ran to fetch a ladder and set it up against the wall; but old Ulrich got wind of this proceeding, and dispersed the mob forthwith, menacing Sidonia, before their faces, that if she but wagged a finger, and did not instantly retire from the window, and bear her well-merited punishment patiently, he would have her carried straightway through the guard-room, and locked up in the bastion tower. This threat succeeded, and she drew in her head. Meantime the Duchess returned from fishing, but when she beheld the crowd she entered through the little water-gate, and went up a winding stair to her own apartment, to attire herself for the dance.

The musicians now arrived from Grypswald, and all the knights and nobles were assembled except Zitsewitz, who lay sick, whether from love or jealousy I leave undecided; so the great affair at length began, and in the state hall the band struck up Duke Bogislaus' march, played, in fact, by eighty drums and forty-three trumpets, so that it was as mighty and powerful in sound as if the great trumpet itself had played it, and the plaster dropped off from the ceiling, and the picture of his Highness the Duke, in the north window, was so disturbed by the vibration, that it shook and clattered as if it were going to descend from the frame and dance with the guests in the hall, and not only the folk outside danced to the music, but down in the town, in the great market-place, and beyond that, even in the horse-market, the giant march was heard, and every one danced to it whether in or out of the house, and cheered and huzzaed. Now the Prince could no longer repress his feelings, for, besides that he had taken a good Pomeranian draught that day, and somewhat rebelled against his lady mother, he now flung the fourth commandment to the winds (never had he done this before), and taking three companions with him, by name Dieterich von Krassow, Joachim von Budde, and Achim von Weyer, he proceeded with them to the chamber of Sidonia, and with great violence burst open the door. There she lay on the bed weeping, in a green velvet robe, laced with gold, and embroidered with other golden ornaments, and her head was crowned with pearls and diamonds, so that the young Prince exclaimed, "Dearest Sidonia, you look like a king's bride. See, I keep my word; come now, and we shall dance together in the hall."

Here he would willingly have kissed her, but was ashamed because the others were by, so he said, "Go ye now to the hall and see if the dance is still going on. I will follow with the maiden." Thereat the young men laughed, because they saw well that the Prince did not just then desire their company, and they all went away, except Joachim von Budde, the rogue, who crept behind the door, and peeped through the crevice.

Now, the young lord was no sooner left alone with Sidonia than he pressed her to his heart—"Did she love him? She must say yes once again." Whereupon she clasped his neck with her little hands, and with every kiss that he gave her she murmured, "Yes, yes, yes!" "Would she be his own dear wife?" "Ah, if she dared. She would have no other spouse, no, not even if the Emperor came himself with all the seven electors. But he must not make her more miserable than she was already. What could they do? he never would be allowed to marry her." "He would manage that." Then he pressed her again to his heart, with such ardour that the knave behind the door grew jealous, and springing up, called out—"If his Highness wishes for a dance he must come now."

When they both entered the hall, her Grace was treading a measure with old Ulrich, but he caught sight of them directly, and without making a single remark, resigned the hand of her Grace to Prince Bogislaus, and excused himself, saying that the noise of the music had made his head giddy, and that he must leave the hall for a little. He ran then along the corridor down to the courtyard, from thence to the guard, and commanded the officer with his troop, along with the executioner and six assistants, to be ready to rush into the hall with lighted matches, the moment he waved his hat with the white plumes from the window.

When he returns, the dance is over, and my gracious lady, suspecting nothing as yet, sits in a corner and fans herself. Then Ulrich takes Sidonia in one hand and Prince Ernest in the other, brings them up straight before her Highness, and asks if she had herself given permission for the Prince and Sidonia to dance together in the hall. Her Highness started from her chair when she beheld them, her cheeks glowing with anger, and exclaimed, "What does this mean? Have you dared to release Sidonia?"

Ille.—"Yes; for this noble maiden has been treated worse than a peasant-girl by my lady mother."

Illa.—"Oh, woe is me! this is my just punishment for having forgotten my Philip so soon, and even consenting to tread a measure in the hall." So she wept, and threw herself again upon the seat, covering her face with both hands.

Now old Ulrich began. "So, my young Prince, this is the way you keep the admonitions that your father, of blessed memory, gave you on his death-bed! Fie—shame on you! Did you not give your promise also to me, the old man before you? Sidonia shall return to her chamber, if my word has yet some power in Pomerania. Speak, gracious lady, give the order, and Sidonia shall be carried back to her room."

When Sidonia heard this, she laid her white hand, all covered with jewels, upon the old man's arm, and looked up at him with beseeching glances, and stroked his beard after her manner, crying, with tears of anguish, "Spare a poor young maiden! I will learn anything you tell me; I will repeat it all on Sunday. Only do not deal so hardly with me." But the little hands for once had no effect, nor the tears, nor the caresses; for Ulrich, throwing her off, gave her such a slap in the face that she uttered a loud cry and fell to the ground.

If a firebrand had fallen into a barrel of gunpowder, it could not have caused a greater explosion in the hall than that cry; for after a short pause, in which every one stood silent as if thunderstruck, there arose from all the nobles, young and old, the terrible war-cry—"Jodute! Jodute! [Footnote: The learned have puzzled their heads a great deal over the etymology of this enigmatical word, which is identical in meaning with the terrible "Zettergeschrei" of the Reformation era. It is found in the Swedish, Gothic, and Low German dialects, and in the Italian Goduta. One of the best essays on the subject—which, however, leads to no result—the lover of antiquarian researches will find in Hakeus's "Pomeranian Provincial Papers," vol. v. p. 207.] to arms, to arms!" and the cry was re-echoed till the whole hall rung with it. Whoever had a dagger or a sword drew it, and they who had none ran to fetch one. But the Prince would at once have struck old Ulrich to the heart, if his brother Bogislaus had not sprung on him from behind and pinioned his arms. Then Joachim von Budde made a pass at the old knight, and wounded him in the hand. So Ulrich changed his hat from the right hand to the left, and still kept retreating till he could gain the window and give the promised sign to the guard, crying as he fought his way backward, step by step, "Come on now—come on, Ernest. Murder the old grey-headed man whom thy father called friend—murder him, as thou wilt murder thy mother this night."

Then reaching the window, he waved his hat until the sign was answered; then sprang forward again, seized Sidonia by the hand, crying, "Out, harlot!" Hereupon young Lord Ernest screamed still louder, "Jodute! Jodute! Down with the grey-headed villain! What! will not the nobles of Pomerania stand by their Prince? Down with the insolent grey-beard who has dared to call my princely bride a harlot!" And so he tore himself from his brother's grasp, and sprang upon the old man; but her Grace no sooner perceived his intention than she rushed between them, crying, "Hold! hold! hold! for the sake of God, hold! He is thy second father." And as the young Prince recoiled in horror, she seized Sidonia rapidly, and pushing her before Ulrich towards the door, cried, "Out with the accursed harlot!" But Joachim Budde, who had already wounded the Grand Chamberlain, now seizing a stick from one of the drummers, hit her Grace such a blow on the arm therewith that she had to let go her hold of Sidonia. When old Ulrich beheld this, he screamed, "Treason! treason!" and rushed upon Budde. But all the young nobles, who were now fully armed, surrounded the old man, crying, "Down with him! down with him!" In vain he tried to reach a bench from whence he could defend himself against his assailants; in a few moments he was overpowered by numbers and fell upon the floor. Now, indeed, it was all over with him, if the soldatesca had not at that instant rushed into the hall with fierce shouts, and Master Hansen the executioner, in his long red cloak, with six assistants accompanying them.

"Help! help!" cried her Grace; "help for the Lord Chamberlain!"

So they sprang to the centre of the hall where he was lying, dashed aside his assailants, and lifted up the old man from the floor with his hand all bleeding.

But Joachim Budde, who was seated on the very same bench which Ulrich had in vain tried to reach, began to mock the old knight. Whereupon Ulrich asked if it were he who had struck her Grace with the drumstick. "Ay," quoth he, laughing, "and would that she had got more of it for treating that darling, sweet, beautiful Sidonia no better than a kitchen wench. Where is the old hag now? I will teach her the catechism with my drumstick, I warrant you."

And he was going to rise, when Ulrich made a sign to the executioner, who instantly dropped his red cloak, under which he had hitherto concealed his long sword, and just as Joachim looked up to see what was going on, he whirled the sword round like a flash of lightning, and cut Budde's head clean off from the shoulders, so that not even a quill of his Spanish ruff was disturbed, and the blood spouted up like three horse-tails to the ceiling (for he drank so much that all the blood was in his head), and down tumbled his gay cap, with the heron's plume, to the ground, and his head along with it.

In an instant all was quietness; for though some of the ladies fainted, amongst whom was her Grace, and others rushed out of the hall, still there was such a silence that when the corpse fell down at length heavily upon the ground the clap of the hands and feet upon the floor was quite audible.

When Ulrich observed that his victory was complete, he waved his hat in the air, exclaiming, "The princely house of Pomerania is saved! and, as long as I live, its honour shall never be tarnished for the sake of a harlot! Remove Prince Ernest and Sidonia to separate prisons. Let the rest go their ways;—this devil's festival is at an end, and with my consent, there shall never be another in Wolgast."