"Geske.--Have you put syrup in the coffee?Henrich.--Yes, I have.Geske.--Be so good, dear madams, be so kind as to be contented." HOLBERG'S Political Pewterer.
Lemvig lies, as is well known, on an arm of the Limfjord. Thelegend relates, that in the Swedish war a troop of the enemy'scavalry compelled a peasant here to mount his horse and serve as aguide. Darkness came on; they found themselves already upon thehigh sand-banks. The peasant guided his horse toward a steepprecipice; in a farm-house on the other side of the fjord theyperceived a light. "That is Lemvig," said the peasant; "let ushasten!" He set spurs to his horse, the Swedes followed hisexample, and they were precipitated into the depth: the followingmorning their corpses were found. The monument of this bold Lemvigpeasant consists of this legend and in the songs of the poets; andthese are the monuments which endure the longest. Through thislegend the bare precipice receives an intellectual beauty, whichmay truly compare itself with the naturally beautiful view over thecity and the bay.
Rosalie and Otto drove into the town. It was two years since he hadbeen here; everything seemed to him, during this time, to haveshrunk together: wherever he looked everything was narrow andsmall. In his recollection, Lemvig was very much larger.
They now drew up before the merchant's house. The entrance wasthrough the shop, which was decorated with wooden shoes, woolengloves, and iron ware. Close within the door stood two large casksof tea. Over the counter hung an extraordinary stuffed fish, and awhole bunch of felt hats, for the use of both sexes. It was abusiness en gros and en d閠ail, which the son of the house managed.The father himself was number one in Lemvig; he had ships at sea,and kept open house, as they call it, in the neighborhood.
The sitting-room door opened, and the wife herself, a stout, squarewoman, with an honest, contented countenance, stepped out andreceived the guests with kisses and embraces. Alas! her goodJutland pronunciation cannot be given in writing.
"O, how glorious that the Mamsell comes and brings Mr. Thostrupwith her! How handsome he is become! and how grown! Yes, we havehis mark still on the door." She drew Otto along with her. "He hasshot up more than a quarter of a yard!"
He looked at the objects which surrounded him.
"Yes," said she, "that instrument we have had since you were lasthere; it is a present to Maren from her brother. She will now sing;you something. It is astonishing what a voice she has! LastWhitsuntide she sang in the church with the musical people; shesang louder than the organ!"
Otto approached the sofa, over which a large piece of needleworkhung, in a splendid gold frame. "That is Maren's name-sampler,"said the mistress of the house. "It is very pretty. See! therestand all our names! Can Mr. Thostrup guess who this is? Here areall the figures worked in open stitch. That ship, there, is theMariane, which was called after me. There you see the Lemvig Arms--a tower which stands on the waves; and here in the corner, inregular and irregular stitches, is her name, 'Maren, October the24th, 1828.' Yes, that is now two years since. She has now worked acushion for the sofa, with a Turk upon it. It went the round of thecity--every one wished to see it; it is astonishing how Maren canuse her hands!"
Rosalie inquired after the excellent girl.
"She is preparing the table," said the lady. "Some good friends arecoming to us this evening. The secretary will also come; he willthen play with Maren. You will doubtless, in Copenhagen, have heardmuch more beautiful music; ours is quite simple, but they sing fromnotes: and I think, most likely the secretary will bring hismusical-box with him. That is splendid! Only lately he sang alittle song to the box, that was much better than to the largerinstrument; for I must say he has not the strong chest which Marenhas."
The whole family assembled themselves for the first time at thedinner-table. The two persons who took the lowest places at tableappeared the most original; these were the shopman and the aunt.Both of them had only at dinner the honor of being with the family;they were quite shut out from the evening parties.
The shopman, who in the shop was the first person, and who couldthere speak a few words, sat here like a quiet, constrainedcreature; his hair combed toward one side, and exhibiting two red,swollen hands: no sound escaped his lips; kissing the hand of thelady of the house, at coming and going, was all he did beside eat.
The aunt, who was not alone called so by the family, but by thewhole of Lemvig, was equally sparing of her words, but her face wasconstantly laughing. A flowered, red cotton cap fitted close to thethin face, giving something characteristic to the high cheek-bonesand hanging lip. "She assisted in the household, but could take nopart in genteel company," as the lady expressed herself. She couldnever forget how, at the Reformation Festival, when only thesingers sang in the church, aunt began singing with them out of herbook, so that the churchwarden was forced to beg her to be silent;but this she took very ill, and declared she had as notch right asthe others to praise God, and then sang in defiance. Had she notbeen "aunt," and not belonged to the family to which she did, shewould certainly have been turned out.
She was now the last person who entered and took her place attable. Half an hour had she been sought after before she was found.She had stood at the end of the garden, before the wooden trellis.Grass had been mown in the field behind the garden, and made into arick; to see this she had gone to the trellis, the odor hadagreeably affected her; she had pressed her face against thetrellis-work, and from contemplation of it had fallen into thought,or rather out of thought. There she was found, and the dreamer wasshaken into motion. She was again right lively, and laughed eachtime that Otto looked at her. He had his seat between Maren and thelady of the house, at the upper end of the table. Maren was a verypretty girl--little, somewhat round, white and red, and well-dressed.A vast number of bows, and a great variety of colors, were her weakside. She was reading at this time "Cabal and Love."
"Thou art reading it in German!" said the mother.
"Yes, it must be a beautiful piece. I speak German very well, butwhen I wish to read it I get on too slowly with it: I like to getto the end of a book!"
The husband had his place at the head of the table. A little blackcap sat smoothly on his gray hair, and a pair of clever eyessparkled in his countenance. With folded hands he prayed a silentprayer, and then bowed his head, before he allowed the dinner to beserved. Rosalie sat beside him. Her neighbor on the right seemedvery talkative. He was an old soldier, who in his fortieth year hadgone as lieutenant with the land's troops, and had permission towear the uniform, and therefore sat there in a kind of militarycoat, and with a stiff cravat. He was already deep in Polignac'sministry and the triumph of the July days; but he had themisfortune to confound Lafitte and Lafayette together. The son ofthe house only spoke of bull-calves. The lady at the table was alittle mamsell from Holstebro, who sat beside him, dressed like agirl for Confirmation, in a black silk dress and long red shawl.She was in grand array, for she was on a visit. This young ladyunderstood dress-making, and could play upon the flute; which,however, she never did without a certain bashfulness: besides this,she spoke well, especially upon melancholy events. The bottle ofwine only circulated at the upper end of the table; the shopman andaunt only drank ale, but it foamed gloriously: it had been madeupon raisin-stalks.
"He is an excellent man, the merchant, whom you have received asguardian, Mr. Thostrup," said the master of the house. "I am inconnection with him."
"But it is strange," interrupted the lady, "that only one out ofhis five daughters is engaged. If the young ladies in Copenhagen donot go off better than that, what shall we say here?"
"Now Mr. Thostrup can take one of them," said the husband. "Thereis money, and you have fortune also; if you get an office, you canlive in floribus!"
Maren colored, although there was no occasion for coloring; sheeven cast down her eyes.
"What should Mr. Thostrup do with one of them?" pursued the wife."He shall have a Jutland maiden! There are pretty young ladiesenough here in the country-seats," added she, and laid the bestpiece of meat upon his plate.
"Do the royal company give pretty operas?" asked Maren, and gaveanother direction to the conversation.
Otto named several, among others Der Freisch黷z.
"That must be horrible!" said the lieutenant. "They say the wolf-glenis so natural, with a waterfall, and an owl which flutters its wings.Burgomaster Mimi has had a letter from a young lady in Aarhuus,who has been in Copenhagen, and has seen this piece. It was sohorrible that she held her hand before her face, and almostfainted. They have a splendid theatre!"
"Yes, but our little theatre was very pretty!" said the lady of thehouse. "It was quite stupid that the dramatic company should havebeen unlucky. The last piece we gave is still clear in myrecollection; it was the 'Sandsesl鰏e.' I was then ill; butbecause I wished so much to see it, the whole company was soobliging as to act it once more, and that, too, in our sitting-room,where I lay on the sofa and could look on. That was an extraordinarymark of attention from them! Only think--the burgomaster himselfacted with them!"
In honor of the strangers, coffee was taken after dinner in thegarden, where, under the plum-trees, a swing was fixed. Somewhatlater a sailing party was arranged. A small yacht belonging to themerchant lay, just unladen, near the bridge of boats.
Otto found Maren and the young lady from Holstebro sitting in thearbor. Somewhat startled, they concealed something at his entrance.
"The ladies have secrets! May one not be initiated?"
"No, not at all!" replied Maren.
"You have manuscript poems in the little book!" said Otto, andboldly approached. "Perhaps of your own composition?"
"O, it is only a memorandum-book," said Maren, blushing. "When Iread anything pretty I copy it, for we cannot keep the books."
"Then I may see it!" said Otto. His eye fell upon the writtensheet:--
"So fliessen nun zwei Wasser Wohl zwischen mir und Dir Das eine sind die Thr鋘en, Das andre ist der See!" [Note: Des Knaben Wunderhorn.]
he read. "That is very pretty! 'Der verlorne Schwimmer,' the poemis called, is it not?"
"Yes, I have copied it out of the secretary's memorandum-book; hehas so many pretty pieces."
"The secretary has many splendid things!" said Otto, smiling."Memorandum-book, musical snuff-box"--
"And a collection of seals!" added the young lady from Holstebro.
"I must read more!" said Otto; but the ladies fled with glowingcheeks.
"Are you already at your tricks, Mr. Thostrup?" said the mother,who now entered the garden. "Yes, you do not know how Maren hasthought of you--how much she has spoken of you. You never wrote tous; we never heard anything of you, except when Miss Rosalierelated us something out of your letters. That was not nice of you!You and Maren were always called bride and bridegroom. You were apair of pretty children, and your growth has not been disadvantageousto either of you."
At four o'clock the evening party assembled--a whole swarm of youngladies, a few old ones, and the secretary, who distinguishedhimself by a collection of seals hanging to a long watch-chain, andeverlastingly knocking against his body; a white shirt-frill, stiffcollar, and a cock's comb, in which each hair seemed to take anaffected position. They all walked down to the bay. Otto had somebusiness and came somewhat later. Whilst he was crossing, alone,the court-yard, he heard, proceeding from the back of the house, afearful, wild cry, which ended in violent sobbing. Terrified, hewent nearer, and perceived the aunt sitting in the middle of alarge heap of turf. The priestess at Delphi could not have lookedmore agitated! Her close cap she had torn from her head; her long,gray hair floated over her shoulders; and with her feet she stampedupon the turf, like a willful child, until the pieces flew invarious directions. When she perceived Otto she became calm in amoment, but soon she pressed her thin hands before her face andsobbed aloud. To learn from her what was the matter was not to bethought of.
"O, she is only quarrelsome!" said the girl, to whom Otto hadturned for an explanation. "Aunt is angry because she was notinvited to sail with the company. She always does so,--she can bequite wicked! Just lately, when she should have helped me to wringout the sheets, she always twisted them the same way that I did, sothat we could never get done, and my hands hurt me very much!"
Otto walked down to the bay. The sail was unfurled, the secretarybrought out his musical-box, and, accompanied by its tones, theyglided in the burning sunshine over the water.
On the other side tea was to be drunk, and then Maren was to sing.Her mother asked her to sing the song with the strong tones, sothat Otto might hear what a voice she had.
She sang "Dannevang." Her voice had uncommon power, but no style,no grace.
"Such a voice, I fancy, you have not heard in the theatre atCopenhagen?" said the secretary, with dogmatical gravity.
"You might wish yourself such a chest!" said the lieutenant.
The secretary should now sing; but he had a little cold, which hehad always.
"You must sing to the musical-box!" said the lady, and her wish wasfulfilled. If Maren had only commenced, one might have believed ita trial of skill between Boreas and Zephyr.
They now walked about, drank tea, and after this they were toreturn to the house, there to partake of fish and roast meat, apiece of boxed ham, and other good things.
Otto could by no means be permitted to think of leaving them thefollowing morning; he must remain a few days, and gather strength,so that in Copenhagen he might apply himself well to work. But onlyone day would he enjoy all the good things which they heaped uponhim. He yearned for other people, for a more intellectual circle.Two years before he had agreed splendidly with them all, had foundthem interesting and intellectual; now he felt that Lemvig was alittle town, and that the people were good, excellent people.
The following play again brought capital cookery, good foul, andgood wine--that was to honor Mr. Thostrup. His health was drunk,Maren was more confidential, the aunt had forgotten her trouble,and again sat with a laughing face beside the constrained shopman.They must, it is true, make a little haste over their dinner, forthe fire-engine was to be tried; and this splendor, theymaintained, Otto must see, since he so fortunately chanced to liethere.
"How can my mother think that this will give Mr. Thostruppleasure?" said Maren. "There is nothing to see in it."
"That has given him pleasure formerly!" answered the mother. "Itis, also, laughable when the boys run underneath the engine-rain,and the stream comes just in their necks."
She spoke of the former Otto and of the present one--he was becomeso Copenhagenish, so refined and nice, as well in the cut of hisclothes as in his manners; yet she still found an opportunity ofgiving him a little hint to further refinement. Only think! he tookthe sugar for his coffee with his fingers!
"But where are the sugar-tongs, the massive silver sugar-tongs?"asked she. "Maren, dost thou allow him to take the sugar with hisfingers?"
"That is more convenient!" answered Otto. "I do that always."
"Yes, but if strangers had been here," said the hostess, in afriendly but teaching tone, "we must, like that grand lady you knowof, have thrown the sugar out of the window."
"In the higher circles, where people have clean fingers, they makeuse of them!" said Otto. "There would be no end of it if one wereto take it with the sugar-tongs."
"They are of massive silver!" said the lady, and weighed them inher hand.
Toward evening Rosalie went into the garden under the plum trees.
"These, also, remind me of my mountains," said she; "this is theonly fruit which will properly flourish there. Lemvig lies, like LaLocle, in a valley," and she pointed, smiling, to the surroundingsand-hills. "How entirely different it is here from what it is athome on thy grandfather's estate! There I have been so accustomedto solitude, that it is almost too lively for me here. Onediversion follows another."
It was precisely this which Otto did not like. These amusements ofthe small towns wearied him, and he could not delight himself withthem, no longer mingle in this life.
He wished to set out early the following morning. It would be tooexhausting to drive along the dry road in the sun's heat, they alldeclared; he must wait until the afternoon, then it would becooler; it was, also, far pleasanter to travel in the night.Rosalie's prayers decided him. Thus, after dinner and coffee, thehorses should be put into the carriage.
It was the last day. Maren was somewhat in a grave mood. Otto mustwrite in her album. "He would never come to Lemvig again," saidshe. As children they had played with each other. Since he went toCopenhagen she had, many an evening, seated herself in the swingnear the summer-house and thought of him. Who knows whether shemust not have done so when she copied out of the secretary'smemorandum-book, the verses,--
"So fliessen nun zwei Wasser Wohl zwischen mir and Dir?"
The sea certainly flows between Aarhuus and Copenhagen.
"Maren will perhaps go over for the winter," said the mother; "butwe dare not speak too much about it, for it is not yet quitesettled. It will really make her gayer! lately she has been verymuch inclined to melancholy, although God knows that we have deniedher no pleasure!"
There now arrived a quantity of letters from differentacquaintance, and from their acquaintance: if Mr. Thostrup wouldhave the goodness to take care of this to Viborg, these to Aarhuus,and the others as far as Copenhagen. It was a complete freight,such as one gets in little towns, just as though no post wentthrough the country.
The carriage stopped before the door.
Rosalie melted into tears. "Write to me!" said she. "Thee I shallnever see again! Greet my Switzerland when thou comest there!"
The others were merry. The lady sang,--
"O could I, like a cloud, but fly!"
The young lady from Holstebro bowed herself before him with anAlbum-leaf its her hand, upon which she must beg Mr. Thostrup towrite her something. Maren gave him her hand, blushed and drewback: but as the carriage rolled away she waved her whilehandkerchief through the open window: "Farewell! Farewell!"