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Updated: June 14, 2025
After thus parleying with himself, Gottlob began to struggle to make his way from the court. "The blessings of the servants of the fiend are bitter curses," said the infatuated witchfinder, on the other hand; "and she has blessed me. God stand by me!" "To the stake! to the stake!" still howled the pitiless, the bloodthirsty crowd.
Some five or six months past it came upon me. I know not when or how!" "Bears he no charm upon him?" exclaimed the Ober-Amtmann aloud. "He bears a charm upon him!" cried the witchfinder in triumph. "And ask who bound it round his neck?" "It is false! I bear no charm!" cried Gottlob eagerly. "She herself denied that it was such." "Of what does he speak?" cried the Ober-Amtmann.
Now let us take up for a moment Brother Grube's "Journal" even as we welcome, perhaps the more gratefully, the mild light of evening after the flooding sun, or as our hearts, when too strongly stirred by the deeds of men, turn for rest to the serene faith and the naive speech of little children. The twelve, we learn, were under the leadership of one of their number, Brother Gottlob.
The crown drew back with horror, uttering cries of vain expostulation. "Thank Heaven! she still breathes," said Gottlob at last, as, after some moments, a slight convulsive movement passed over the frame of the poor woman. "Aid me, my friends. She still lives. Help me to transport her to some house." But the crowd drew back in horror. "I will convey her to my own chamber close by.
Some time after these events, the Ober-Amtmann retired from his high office, and after a seclusion of some duration with his brother, at Fulda, finally betook himself to a monastery, where he remained until his death. Before his retirement from the world, however, he had consented, not without some difficulty, to the union of Bertha and Gottlob.
I knew a Kupferkram in Hamburg; a short, sallow man, with no beard.” “A Prussian?” “Yes.” “It cannot be that my cousin was in Hamburg and I not know it. I was there twelve months.” “Why not? A German will be anywhere in the course of twelve months except where you expect to find him.” “His name is Gottlob—Gottlob Kupferkram.” “The very man!
Then, we are told, the Brethren lay down to rest and "Br Gottlob hung his hammock above our heads" as was most fitting on this of all nights; for is not the Poet's place always just a little nearer to the stars? The pioneers did not always travel in groups. There were families who set off alone.
After breakfast the Brethren shaved and then we rested under our tent.... People who were staying at the Tavern came to see what kind of folk we were.... Br Gottlob held the evening service and then we lay down around our cheerful fire, and Br Gottlob in his hammock." Two other jottings give us a racial kaleidoscope of the settlers and wayfarers of that time.
One of these came and laid himself to sleep beside the Brethren's camp fire on their first night out, after they had sung their evening hymn and eleven had stretched themselves on the earth for slumber, while Brother Gottlob, their leader, hanging his hammock between two trees, ascended not only in spirit a little higher than his charges, and "rested well in it."
Among the foremost of the crowd, who had pressed down the narrow lane leading to the water's edge, between the premises of the Benedictine monastery and the palace garden, eager to gain an unoccupied point whence they might watch the flight, stood "Gentle Gottlob."
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