The Diary of Caspar Kruse III, Executioner: Goslar, 21 December 1635 – Baptism Day

Today, a day later, I brought her to the Sankt Stephani Church. Anna stayed at home to rest. The midwife had insisted. It was cold, and the snow crunched beneath my feet. I carried my daughter in a thick woollen cloth, close against my chest. She slept. In the church it was quiet, the pastor whispered the words of the sacrament almost solemnly. We stood at the baptismal font, I and the two witnesses – my distant cousin Wilhelm and Anna’s sister Ilsabe.

“Anna Maria,” said the pastor, “I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.” And he sprinkled the water over her forehead. She stirred briefly, frowned, but did not cry. Not a tear. I thought that strong, as if she knew this was an important moment and that silence was fitting. As if she understood that from now on she was a child of God. Then we softly sang a psalm, and I looked up to the wooden vault of the church, to the chandeliers, the light, the sacred. It felt as though my child stood under protection.

When I brought her back home, Anna’s cheeks were red with warmth, and she smiled as I placed the child in her arms. A brazier was set on the table, there was warm milk with honey. And for a brief moment the world was without death, without judgment, without pain. Only life, only light.




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