How cruel it is that from nearly
every window in my cousin’s house I can see the smoke from the burning! I have been unable to escape it until
now. A wind has finally dispersed the
plume, and I find myself able to write again.
So
many times the prison cart has carried the condemned through the streets, but
never before have I seen it as a cart full of innocents. I thought I beheld not a wagon filled with
people, but one filled with young lambs, each glowing with a heavenly light
while the sound of trumpets and horns filled the air. The intensity of this vision caused me to
fall, and I could not move for several moments.
When I could again control my senses, people were shouting, “Look, one
of the witches has attacked her!” and they began to throw stones at the
cart. I had not the strength to tell
them what I had seen. Cousin Stamer
wanted me to return to the house, but I insisted on following the cart to the
place of execution.
I
do not fully remember what happened, my mind was so focused on prayer. I do remember seeing my father, though I
barely recognized him. That his face
could become so gaunt, his eyes so sunken, his gait so timid in such a short
time seemed beyond belief. I do not know
if he saw me, for I stood at the back of the crowd. Hans would not let me go nearer, though he
and cousin Stamer did push their way further forward. The charges were read out, and the crowd
jeered. I could not understand it. Do they
not see these people have committed no wrong?
Do they not realize that they might be accused next?
Mercifully,
my father was granted death by the sword.
I could not see, so I turned my gaze to heaven and prayed. When I heard the sword strike I felt as
though my own soul were flying out of my body and going to meet my father’s,
but then Hans and my cousin returned and insisted we return home before they
began the burning. They were both very
pale. We returned home, but we could
still see the smoke.
So
it has ended, and I see the truth. Soon
I will leave Bamberg, and all of this, to comfort my soul on a journey of
faith. I shall pray for my father and
mother from a place where the air is not choked with accusation and despair,
the Devil’s breeding-ground, but from sanctuaries where relics clear the path
of my prayers.
God be with us all.
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