# Der Lutheraner_St. Louis Missouri_1848 03 07_S108
# AI translation — CHI Digital Archive (demonstration)

(Submitted.)

He (the Lord) is a deliverer and a helper in need, and he does signs and wonders, both in heaven and on earth. (Dan. 6:27.)

During the Thirty Years' War, the Swedish troops had, among other places, also taken by armed force, on July 4, 1642, the capital of the Margraviate of Moravia, Olmütz, and by royal command the command there was given to Major-General Winter, who duly manned the sentry posts of the fortress. But very soon a rumor arose among the soldiers which made the otherwise so brave Swedes fearful. For on the rampart, at a so-called rondel, a sentry claimed to have heard a voice which, though similar to a human voice, at the same time sounded so strange and ghostly that the sentry was thereby thrown into an involuntary shudder. Other soldiers, who were gradually posted there, claimed to have heard something similar, and so at last a dread of that sentry post spread to all, and word of it finally reached the ears of the commandant, Winter.

Since so many consistent testimonies were at hand, he considered the matter worth closer investigation, and commissioned a lieutenant to look into whether the soldiers had truly heard rightly, or whether perhaps one had let himself be carried away by another's unfounded fear. But, behold, this fearless and unbiased observer, too, perceived those sounds, without, however, being able to say precisely where they actually came from. He faithfully reported to the commandant what he had heard with his own ears, and the latter now set out, accompanied by his father confessor, the chaplain, in order to convince himself personally of what so many had confirmed. His expectation, too, was not disappointed; the muffled voice sounded, and soon the thought took hold of him as well, that a spirit was at work here.

The chaplain, however, maintained that those sounds were entirely similar to a weak human voice, and now good Winter hit upon the sober notion that perhaps someone might be walled up in the rondel of the rampart. He therefore at once had the town mason fetched and asked him how long he had already practiced his trade in Olmütz. "It will now be about twenty-six years," was the answer. "Have you," the commandant continued, "ever received orders to do any work on this rondel?" "Never," replied the mason, and even after repeated questioning he stood by his "No." He was nevertheless given orders to break into the wall and see whether nothing was found there. With apparent zeal he made a large hole in the ground and in the wall, but no trace appeared that could have led to any discovery. In the meantime, however, Winter may have heard that the mason was a Catholic, and might well have good reasons for contributing nothing toward a discovery by which something might be brought to light to which he himself would probably have willingly lent a hand. The commandant therefore sent him away, and had two of his journeymen come instead, who belonged to the Lutheran church. He gave them orders to search there until something was found. They obeyed, and turned to another side of the wall, toward the town, and scarcely had they removed a few bricks there when — who can describe their horror — they beheld in the wall an old, ash-gray man, who indeed looked more like a ghost than a human being, and was therefore at first actually taken for a specter. The opening in the wall, however, was quickly enlarged, but through it the draft of air pressed too strongly upon the old man, and he fell into a faint. Those standing about still struggled with anxious fear of ghosts, but the less apprehensive chaplain stepped closer, touched the seemingly lifeless form, and soon convinced himself that it was no otherworldly being but a human being, in whom he at the same time also noticed signs of life. He hastily sought out a strengthening balm, with which he rubbed the fainted man, and soon, to his great joy, perceived that he was breathing, and shortly afterward was able to answer, in a weak voice, a few questions put to him.

General Winter now also approached the venerable old man, pale from age and grievous suffering, and since he had recovered somewhat, he asked him with deep emotion and tense expectation: "Who are you? And how did you come to this dreadful place?" In a weak voice the old man replied: "I was an evangelical preacher at the town church in Olmütz, but the Roman Catholic authority of this city would no longer tolerate me; by force they took from me the church entrusted to me, and forbade me, under exemplary penalty, to exercise my office any further — indeed, they drove me out of the town. This latter I did have to let happen, but I could not bring myself to answer for it before God, nor could I bring it over my conscience to abandon, without more ado, the flock entrusted to me. I would rather have gone to my death than leave it. So whenever the papists drove me out of one gate, I came back in through another, and since our church had been taken from us, I carried out my office in private houses. But when my enemies became aware that I would rather die than abandon my flock, one of them, the father rector of the Jesuit college, formed the bloodthirsty resolve to have me walled up in this prison." — When the venerable old man, whose name was M. Joh. Gott-Treu Felsner, was then asked how long this might have been, he asked to be told the year, and after he had learned it, he said: "Then it is thirteen years that I have been brought here." — Utterly exhausted, he now fell silent.

General Winter had meanwhile sent for a sedan chair and some refreshments, in order to revive the old gentleman and have him brought to his own lodging, which was accordingly done. Several more strengthening remedies were then applied, which had good effect, so that old Father Felsner regained a little strength. General Winter, seized with deep astonishment, now continued to ask: "Tell me, how have you lived through these thirteen years? Did you perhaps have some secret access, through which food could be handed to you?" — Felsner answered: "No; at first, indeed, for about two or three days, hunger and thirst assailed me a little, but when it seemed to have reached its worst, I fell into a gentle sleep, and when I awoke from it, I noticed quite plainly that a considerable time must have passed with the sleep. Hunger and thirst had likewise vanished along with the sleep. Thus I have spent my time, and always, when I awoke, hunger and thirst were also gone. Sometimes, however, the time still seemed to hang heavy on me; but I shortened it for myself by singing a devotional hymn." Felsner now fell silent, and the general asked him to withdraw for the moment behind a wall-hanging; meanwhile he sent for the rector of the Jesuit college. He appeared, and the general asked how long he had been rector there. The rector named the number of years, and was then asked further what clergy had been found in Olmütz before his time. He answered that they had been Lutheran preachers (Prädicanten). The general continued to ask where they had gone. Answer: he did not know; by order of the emperor they had had to leave the city and the land.

The general now had the venerable old preacher, who until now had been hidden behind the wall-hanging, step forward, and asked the rector whether he perhaps knew this person. To which he answered "No." But when the old gentleman then addressed him in Latin, an indescribable terror suddenly seized the father rector; all his limbs trembled. An awakened conscience, an undeniable wonder, and certainly also anxious fear of what lay before him, took hold of him at the same time. The general now took the floor and addressed him as follows: "Behold, you malicious people, how cruelly and barbarously you deal with our fellow believers! Could a Turk, or any other barbarian, act more cruelly than you? If God had not worked wonders upon him, he would long since have become dust and ashes; but God has preserved his life, and shows you that he...

*) According to another account, Winter asked the rector what had become of the last Lutheran preacher in Olmütz, Felsner; to which he persistently denied knowing anything more of him than that he had been taken out of the city by order of the emperor and banished from the land. — Both accounts can easily be reconciled.