A RECORD OF THE SUFFERINGS OF THE IMPRISONED COUNTESS LEONORA CHRISTINA. (continued 5)
F. E. (Fanny Elizabeth) Bunnett translation
The above-mentioned governor[E64] was killed by some prisoners on board the vessel, when he was returning to the West Indies. By a strange chance the vessel with the murderers came to Copenhagen. (They were sentenced to death for their crime.) Jonatha declared that the governor had had only too good a death, and that it was a sin that any one should lose his life on account of it. I practise speaking the English language with Jonatha. She has forgotten somewhat of her mother tongue, since she has not spoken it for many years; and as she always reads the English Bible, and does not at once understand all the words, I help her; for I not only can perceive the sense from the preceding and following words, but also because some words resemble the French, though with another accent. And we often talk together about the interpretation of Holy Scripture. She calls herself a Calvinist, but she does not hold the opinions of Calvinists. I never dispute with her over her opinions. She goes to the Lord’s Supper in the Queen’s church[E65]. Once, when she came back to me from there, she said she had had a conversation upon religion with a woman, who had told her to her face that she was no Calvinist. I asked her of what religion the woman imagined that she was. She replied: ‘God knows that. I begged her to mind her own business, and said, that I was a Christian; I thought of your grace’s words (but I did not say them), that all those who believe on Christ and live a Christian life, are Christians, whatever name they may give to their faith.’
In this year 1684 I saw the Queen Dowager fall from the chair in which she was drawn up to the royal apartment. The chair ran down the pulleys too quickly, so that she fell on her face and knocked her knee. During this year her weakness daily increased, but she thought herself stronger than she was. She appeared at table always much dressed, and between the meals she remained in her apartments.
I kept myself patient, and wrote the following:—
Contemplation on Memory and Courage, recorded to the honour of God by the suffering Christian woman in the sixty-third year of her life, and the almost completed twenty-first year of her captivity.
The vanished hours can ne’er come back again, Still may the old their youthful joys retain; The past may yet within our memory live, And courage vigour to the old may give. Yet why should I thus sport with Memory’s truth, And harrow up the fairer soil of youth? No fruit it brings, fallow and bare it lies, And the dry furrow only pain supplies! In my first youth, in honourable days Upon such things small question did I raise. Then years advanced with trouble in their train, And spite of show my life was fraught with pain. The holy marriage bond—my rank and fame, Increased my foes and made my ill their aim. Go! honour, riches, vanish from my mind! Ye all forsook me and left nought behind. ’Twas ye have brought me here thro’ years to lie; Thus can man’s envy human joy deny! My God alone, He ne’er forsook me here, My cross He lightened, and was ever near; And when my heart was yielding to despair, He spoke of peace and whispered He was there. He gave me power and ever near me stood, And all could see how truly God was good. What Courage can achieve I next will heed; He who is blessed with it, is blest indeed. To the tired frame fresh power can Courage give, Raising the weary mind anew to live; I mean that Courage Reason may instil Not the foolhardiness that leads to ill. Far oftener is it that the youth will lie Helpless, when Fortune’s favours from him fly, Than that the old man should inactive stay, Who knows full well how Fortune loves to play. Fresh Courage seizes him; from such a shield Rebound the arms malicious foes may wield. Courage imparts repose, and trifles here, Beneath its influence, as nought appear; But a vain loan, which we can only hold Until the lender comes, and life is told. Courage pervades the frame and vigour gives, And a fresh energy each part receives; With appetite and health and cheerful mind, And calm repose in hours of sleep we find, So that no visions in ill dreams appear, And spectre forms filling the heart with fear. Courage gives honied sweetness to our food And prison fare, and makes e’en death seem good. ’Tis well! my mind is fresh, my limbs are sound, And no misfortune weighs me to the ground. Reason and judgment come from God alone, And the five senses unimpaired I own. The mighty God in me His power displays, Therefore join with me in a voice of praise And laud His name: For Thou it is, oh God, Who in my fear and anguish nigh me stood. Almighty One, my thanks be ever thine! Let me ne’er waver nor my trust resign. Take not the courage which my hope supplies, Till my soul enters into Paradise.
Written on February 28, 1684, that is the thirty-sixth anniversary since the illustrious King Christian the Fourth bade good-night to this world, and I to the prosperity of my life.
I have now reached the sixty-third year of my age, and the twentieth year, sixth month, and fifteenth day of my imprisonment. I have therefore spent the third part of my life in captivity. God be praised that so much time is past. I hope the remaining days may not be many.
Anno 1685, January 14, I amused myself with making some verses in which truth was veiled under the cloak of jest, entitled: ‘A Dog, named Cavaillier, relates his Fate.’
The rhymes, I suppose, will come into your hands, my dearest children.[E66]
On February 20, the Queen Dowager Sophia Amalia died. She did not think that death would overtake her so quickly; but when the doctor warned her that her death would not be long delayed, she requested to speak with her son. But death would not wait for the arrival of his Majesty, so that the Queen Dowager might say a word to him. She was still alive; she was sitting on a chair, but she was speechless, and soon afterwards, in the same position, she gave up her spirit.
After the death of this Queen I was much on the lips of the people. Some thought that I should obtain my liberty; others believed that I should probably be brought from the tower to some other place, but should not be set free.
Jonatha, who had learned from Ole the tower-warder, some days before the death of the Queen, that prayers were being offered up in the church for the Queen (it had, however, been going on for six weeks, that this prayer had been read from the pulpit), was, equally with Ole the tower-warder, quite depressed. Ole, who had consoled himself and her hitherto with the tidings from the Queen’s lacqueys, that the Queen went to table and was otherwise well, though she occasionally suffered from a cough, now thought that there was danger, that death might result, and that I, if the Queen died, might perhaps leave the prison. They did their best to conceal their sorrow, but without success. They occasionally shed secretly a few tears. I behaved as if I did not remark it, and as no one said anything to me about it, I gave no opportunity for speaking on the subject. A long time previously I had said to Jonatha (as I had done before to the other women) that I did not think I should die in the tower. She remembered this and mentioned it. I said: ‘All is in God’s hand. He knows best what is needful for me, both as regards soul and body; to Him I commend myself.’ Thus Jonatha and Ole lived on between hope and fear.
On March 15, the reigning Queen kept her Easter. Jonatha came quite delighted from her Majesty’s church, saying that a noble personage had told her that I need not think of getting out of the prison, although the Queen was dead; she knew better and she insisted upon it. However often I asked as to who the personage was, she would not tell me her name. I laughed at her, and said, ‘Whoever the personage may be, she knows just as much about it as you and I do.’ Jonatha adhered to her opinion that the person knew it well. ‘What do you mean?’ I said; ‘the King himself does not know. How should others know?’ ‘Not the King! not the King!’ she said quite softly. ‘No, not the King!’ I answered. ‘He does not know till God puts it into his heart, and as good as says to him, “Now thou shalt let the prisoner free!”’ She came somewhat more to herself, but said nothing. And as she and Ole heard no more rumours concerning me, they were quite comforted.
On March 26, the funeral of the Queen Dowager took place, and her body was conveyed to Roskild.
On April 21, I supplicated the King’s Majesty in the following manner. I possessed a portrait engraving of the illustrious King Christian the Fourth, rather small and oval in form. This I illuminated with colours, and had a carved frame made for it, which I gilded myself. On the piece at the back I wrote the following words:—
My grandson, and great namesake, Equal to me in power and state; Vouchsafe my child a hearing, And be like me in mercy great!
Besides this, I wrote to his Excellency Gyldenlöve, requesting him humbly to present the Supplique to the King’s majesty, and to interest himself on my behalf, and assist me to gain my liberty. His Excellency was somewhat inconvenienced at the time by his old weakness, so that he could not himself speak for me; but he begged a good friend to present the engraving with all due respect, and this was done on April 24.[E67]
Of all this Jonatha knew nothing. Peder Jensen Tötzlöff was my messenger. He has been a comfort to me in my imprisonment, and has rendered me various services, so that I am greatly bound to him. And I beg you, my dearest children, to requite him in all possible ways for the services he has rendered me.
On May 2, it became generally talked of that I should assuredly be set at liberty, and some asked the tower-warder whether I had come out the evening before, and at what time; so that Ole began to fear, and could not bear himself as bravely as he tried to do. He said to me in a sad tone: ‘My good lady! You will certainly be set at liberty. There are some who think you are already free.’ I said, ‘God will bring it to pass.’ ‘Yes,’ said he, ‘but how will it fare with me then?’ I answered, ‘You will remain tower-warder, as you now are.’ ‘Yes,’ said he, ‘but with what pleasure?’ and he turned, unable to restrain his tears, and went away. Jonatha concluded that my deliverance was drawing near, and endeavoured to conceal her sorrow. She said, ‘Ole is greatly cast down, but I am not.’ (And the tears were standing in her eyes.) ‘It is said for certain that the King is going away the day after to-morrow. If you are set at liberty, it will be this very day.’ I said, ‘God knows.’ Jonatha expressed her opinion that I was nevertheless full of hope. I said I had been hopeful ever since the first day of my imprisonment; that God would at last have mercy on me, and regard my innocence. I had prayed to God always for patience to await the time of His succour; and God had graciously bestowed it on me. If the moment of succour had now arrived, I should pray to God for grace to acknowledge rightly His great benefits. Jonatha asked if I were not sure to be set free before the King started for Norway; that it was said for certain that the King would set out early on the following morning. I said: ‘There is no certainty as to future things. Circumstances may occur to impede the King’s journey, and it may also happen that my liberty may be prevented, even though at this hour it may perhaps be resolved upon. Still I know that my hope will not be confounded. But you do not conceal your regret, and I cannot blame you for it. You have cause for regret, for with my freedom you lose your yearly income and your maintenance.[148] Remember how often I have told you not to throw away your money so carelessly on your son. You cannot know what may happen to you in your old age. If I die, you will be plunged into poverty; for as soon as you receive your money, you expend it on the apprenticeship of your son, who returns you no thanks for it.[149] You have yourself told me of his bad disposition, and how wrongly he has answered you when you have tried to give him good advice. Latterly he has not ventured to do so, since I read him a lecture, and threatened that I would help to send him to the House of Correction. I fear he will be a bad son to you.’ Upon this she gave free vent to her tears, and begged that if I obtained my liberty I would not abandon her. This I promised, so far as lay in my power; for I could not know what my circumstances might be.
In this way some days elapsed, and Jonatha and Ole knew not what the issue might be.
On May 19, at six o’clock in the morning, Ole knocked softly at my outer door. Jonatha went to it. Ole said softly, ‘The King is already gone; he left at about four o’clock.’ I know not if his hope was great; at any rate it did not last long. Jonatha told me Ole’s news. I wished the King’s Majesty a prosperous journey (I knew already what order he had given), and it seemed to me from her countenance she was to some extent contented. At about eight o’clock Tötzlöff came up to me and informed me that the Lord Chancellor Count Allefeldt had sent the prison governor a royal order that I was to be released from my imprisonment, and that I could leave when I pleased. (This order was signed by the King’s Majesty the day before his Majesty started.)
His Excellency had accompanied the King. Tötzlöff asked whether I wished him to lock the doors, as I was now free. I replied, ‘So long as I remain within the doors of my prison, I am not free. I will moreover leave properly. Lock the door and enquire what my sister’s daughter, Lady Anna Catharina Lindenow, says, whether his Excellency[E68] sent any message to her (as he promised) before he left. When Tötzlöff was gone, I said to Jonatha, ‘Now, in Jesus’ name, this very evening I shall leave. Gather your things together, and pack them up, and I will do the same with mine; they shall remain here till I can have them fetched.’ She was somewhat startled, but not cast down. She thanked God with me, and when the doors were unlocked at noon and I dined, she laughed at Ole, who was greatly depressed. I told her that Ole might well sigh, for that he would now have to eat his cabbage without bacon.
Tötzlöff brought me word from my sister’s daughter that his Excellency had sent to her to say that she was free to accompany me from the tower, if she chose. It was therefore settled that she was to come for me late the same evening.
The prison governor was in a great hurry to get rid of me, and sent the tower-warder to me towards evening, to enquire whether I would not go. I sent word that it was still too light (there would probably be some curious people who had a desire to see me).
Through a good friend I made enquiry of her Majesty the Queen, whether I might be allowed the favour of offering my humble submission to her Majesty (I could go into the Queen’s apartment through the secret passage, so that no one could see me). Her Majesty sent me word in reply that she might not speak with me.
At about ten o’clock in the evening, the prison governor opened the door for my sister’s daughter. (I had not seen him for two years.) He said, ‘Well, shall we part now?’ I answered, ‘Yes, the time is now come.’ Then he gave me his hand, and said ‘Ade!’ (Adieu). I answered in the same manner, and my niece laughed heartily.
Soon after the prison governor had gone, I and my sister’s daughter left the tower. Her Majesty the Queen thought to see me as I came out, and was standing on her balcony, but it was rather dark; moreover I had a black veil over my face. The palace-square, as far as the bridge and further, was full of people, so that we could scarcely press through to the coach.
The time of my imprisonment was twenty-one years, nine months, and eleven days.
King Frederick III. ordered my imprisonment on August 8, A.D. 1663; King Christian V. gave me my liberty on May 18, 1685. God bless my most gracious King with all royal blessing, and give his Majesty health and add many years to his life.
This is finished in my prison.
On May 19, at ten o’clock in the evening, I left my prison. To God be honour and praise. He graciously vouchsafed that I should recognise His divine benefits, and never forget to record them with gratitude.
Dear children! This is the greatest part of the events worth mentioning which occurred to me within the doors of my prison. I live now in the hope that it may please God and the King’s Majesty that I may myself show you this record. God in His mercy grant it.
1685. Written at Husum[E69] June 2, where I am awaiting the return of the King’s Majesty from Norway:
A.D. 1683. New Year’s Day. To Myself.
Men say that Fortune is a rare and precious thing, And they would fain that Power should homage to her bring. Yet Power herself is blind and ofttimes falleth low, Rarely to rise again, wherefore may Heaven know. To-day with humorous wiles she holds her sovereign sway, And could one only trust her, there might be goodly prey. Yet is she like to Fortune, changeful the course she flies, And both, oh earthly pilgrim, are but vain fraud and lies. The former is but frail, the other strives with care, And both alas! are subject to many a plot and snare. Thou hast laid hold on Fortune with an exultant mind, Affixed perhaps to-morrow the fatal mis we find; Then does thy courage fail, this prefix saddens thee, Wert thou thyself Goliath or twice as brave as he. And thou who art so small—already grey with care— Thou know’st not whether evil this year thy lot may share. For Fortune frolics ever, now under, now above, Emerging here and there her varied powers to prove. All that is earthly comes and vanishes again, Therefore I cling to that which will for aye remain.
On March 14, 1683, I wrote the following:—
True is the sentence we are sometimes told: A friend is worth far more than bags of gold. Yet would I gladly ask, where do we find A friend so virtuous that he is well inclined To help another in his need and gloom Without a thought of recompense to come? Naught is there new in this, for selfish care To every child of Eve has proved a snare. Each generation hears the last complain, And each repeats the same sad tale again;— That the oppressed by the wayside may lie, When naught is gained but God’s approving eye. See, at Bethesda’s pool, how once there came The halting impotent, some help to claim Among those thousands. Each of pity free, Had no hand for him in his misery To bring him to the angel-troubled stream. Near his last breath did the poor sufferer seem, Weary and penniless; when One alone Who without money works His wise own Will, turned where the helpless suppliant lay, And gently bade him rise and go his way. Children of grief, rejoice, do not despair; This Helper still is here and still will care What He in mercy wills. He soothes our pain, And He will help, asking for naught again. And in due time He will with gracious hand Unloose thy prison bars and iron band.
A.D. 1684. The first day. To Peder Jensen Tötzlöff.
Welcome, thou New Year’s day, altho’ thou dost belong To those by Brahe reckoned the evil days among, Declaring that whatever may on this day begin Can never prosper rightly, nor true success can win. Now I will only ask if from to-day I strive The evil to avoid and henceforth good to live, Will this not bring success? Why should a purpose fail, Altho’ on this day made? why should it not prevail? Oh Brahe, I believe, when we aright begin, To-day or when it be, and God’s good favour win, The issue must be well, and all that matters here Is to commend our ways to our Redeemer dear. Begin with Jesus Christ this as all other days. Pray that thy plans may meet with the Almighty’s praise, So may’st thou happy be, and naught that man can do Can hinder thy designs, unless God wills it so! May a rich meed of blessing be on thy head bestow’d, And the Lord Jesus Christ protect thee on thy road With arms of grace. Such is my wish for thee, Based on the love of God; sure, that He answers me.
LONDON: PRINTED BY SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE AND PARLIAMENT STREET