CHAPTER I.

Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by the Web Archive

Transcriber's Notes:

1. Page scan source:

http://www.archive.org/details/talesfromgerman00greegoog

2. Footnote is located at the end of the book.

3. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe].

TALES

FROM THE GERMAN

TRANSLATED

BY NATHANIEL GREENE.

VOLUME I.

BOSTON:

AMERICAN STATIONERS' COMPANY,

JOHN B. RUSSELL.

1837.

BOSTON:

Samuel N. Dickinson, Printer,

52, Washington Street.

TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.

Most men, whatever the nature of their avocations, have, or may have,

occasional hours of leisure and relaxation. To spend those hours

profitably as well as pleasantly, should be a study: to spend them

harmlessly, is a duty. Among other recent employments of the little

leisure afforded me by absorbing official occupations, has been an

attempt to gain some knowledge of the language and literature of

Germany; and among the results of that attempt, are manuscript

translations of several pleasant and interesting tales from various

German authors, some of which I have been led to suppose might prove

acceptable to our reading public. Those now presented are taken almost

at random from the thirteen volumes of Van der Velde's works, of which

they are a fair specimen. Their principal value consists in their

faithful illustration of interesting portions of history not generally

familiar. They have, besides, the merit of a peculiarly simple and

unpretending style, that gives them an additional charm, and which I

have endeavored to preserve in the translation. Whether that endeavor

has been successful, however, and whether the English dress I have

substituted for the graceful German garb, is worthy of the author and

suited to the public taste, are questions upon which I feel somewhat

doubtful and apprehensive. Should the reader answer them in the

affirmative, I shall have the consolation of feeling that the leisure

devoted to the work has been harmlessly, if not profitably, employed.

It is proper to add, that in a few cases I have taken the liberty to

omit some passages, and to alter others, that were deemed incompatible

with the ideas of propriety and decorum prevalent in this country.

BOSTON, NOVEMBER, 1837.

ARWED GYLLENSTIERNA.

A TALE OF THE EARLY PART OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.

BY C. F. VAN DER VELDE,

* * * * *

PART FIRST.

CHAPTER I.

In October of the year 1718, the royal counsellor, Nils count

Gyllenstierna, was sitting before his desk in his cabinet at Stockholm.

Behind him stood Arwed, his son, a tall Swedish youth with blue eyes

and golden hair, whose rosy countenance wore a decided expression of

courage and resolution. The father suddenly turned his moveable chair

so as to face the youth.

'One word is as good as a thousand!' cried he, angrily; 'dismiss for

the present your heroic aspirations. You are too young for this war.'

'Not younger than our king was,' quickly answered Arwed, 'when he beat

the Danes by Humblebeck and the Muscovites by the Narva!'

'It is a great misfortune for a land when its king is a Don Quixote,'

grumbled the senator; 'every fool in the kingdom quotes his example as

authority.'

'O, do not calumniate the hero,' entreated Arwed, feelingly. 'Sweden

has had no greater king since Gustavus Adolphus.'

'Nor has she had one who has brought more misery upon the land replied

the senator. 'Do not suppose, my son,' proceeded he, calmly, 'that I

underrate the qualifications of our lord the king. He has given proof

of many, any one of which would render some other princes immortal. He

is firm, liberal, brave, just, and knows how to maintain the royal

dignity. But all these heroic virtues have, by excess, become more

dangerous in him than would be their opposite vices. His firmness,

becoming obstinacy, caused his misfortune at Pultowa and rendered him

for five painful years the dependant and prisoner of the Turks; his

liberality, degenerated into wastefulness, has ruined Sweden; his

courage, carried in most cases to the utmost extent of foolhardiness,

has led hundreds of thousands of his subjects to butchery or the

Siberian mines; his justice has often become cruelty, and the

maintenance of his royal prerogative, tyranny.'

'Cruelty and tyranny!' repeated Arwed. 'Surely you judge the greatest

man in Europe too severely.'

'Do you remember the Livonian, Patkul?' asked the father--'Patkul, who

was compelled, contrary to private right and international law, to make

such dreadful atonement for what he had done in behalf of his native

land? His horrible death is a dark stain upon Charles's character, and

no laurel wreath will ever so conceal the deed that posterity will not

discover it on the tablets of history.'

'So also are there spots upon the sun,' said Arwed with some degree of

irritation. 'The spirit of the party to which you have attached

yourself, my father, permits you to see only the dark side of his

character.'

'My party spirit will never sway my judgment,' indignantly replied the

senator. 'The true patriot is governed only by a desire to promote his

country's welfare, in choosing and adhering to his party. Were the

government of our king less arbitrary I would joyfully unite myself

with his party; but with monarchs like him, the public good requires an

opposition, and every honest-minded nobleman should take his stand upon

that side.'

'It does not become me to dispute with you upon such topics,' said

Arwed, soothingly. 'As yet I have no voice in public affairs. My arm

only is needed. To that, however, in my opinion, my country has a

righteous claim; and the question now is, not whether, the king has

always chosen the best course for the welfare of his realm, but whether

the decision which he has now irrevocably made shall be maintained with

blood and treasure. Therefore permit me to go this time, my dear

father.'

'Well argued, my son,' said the elder Gyllenstierna gruffly, turning

his attention again to his papers; 'but the father has a will of his

own, and considers himself as much a sovereign in his own house, as

Charles XII is in his kingdom. The king's sinful passion for war has

already made a sufficient number of childless parents. I will not make

to it the offering of my only son.'

'What is my insignificant life in comparison with Sweden's welfare?'

cried Arwed with enthusiasm.

'Sweden's welfare!' said the father, turning towards him again. 'How

can Sweden's welfare be promoted by this unholy war? Instead of

attempting to regain our blessed German territories, which our enemies

have divided among themselves, we go forth to the conquest of Norway,

which can never repay the blood and treasure she must cost, and will

never be truly loyal unless when garrisoned by our troops.'

'To me it appears to be a noble attempt,' said Arwed, 'to conquer a

part of his own states from an enemy who has taken so much from us.'

'It appears so to you,' answered his father, 'because you are a young

simpleton, who are dazzled by the brilliancy of the enterprise. Would

to God there were not even older fools who hold the same opinions.

However wise or foolish this expedition may be, you can take no part in

it. You have your answer, with which you will please retire and leave

me alone. I have pressing business.'

He turned again to his table and immediately resumed his writing. Arwed

remained standing there with a sad countenance, his large blue veins

swelling almost to bursting. His lips were already parting to reply,

but he recollected himself and left the cabinet with passionate haste.

Startled by the loud slamming of the door, the senator peevishly turned

his eyes in that direction;--near it he saw a little billet lying upon

the floor, which he took up and brought to his writing table.

'A three-cornered billet,' murmured he, examining it. 'Fine gilt-edged

paper, redolent of perfume,--it must be a love-letter!' He cut the

delicate knot which served for a seal, and, as he read, his brows

became knitted with anger. Then seizing a silver bell which lay upon

the table before him, he rung it violently. 'My secretary!' cried he to

the servant who answered the bell.

'Very tender,' said he, after having re-perused the note. 'An amorous

intrigue at court, and yet the youth desirous of engaging in the

Norwegian war! It is strange--but it pleases me.'

Brodin, the count's secretary, an old, true, experienced, hereditary

servant, now stepped softly into the cabinet, gently closing the door

after him.

'A billet-doux, that my son has just dropped here,' cried the senator,

advancing and handing the letter to him. 'It is signed with the name

only of Georgina. Who is this Georgina?'

'I am not indeed so happy,' answered the secretary, with a satyr-like

smile, 'as to know the christian names of all the females with whom

count Arwed might possibly form tender connections. Nevertheless, I

have provided myself, partly from curiosity and partly that I might be

enabled to answer inquiries, with a genealogical list of those ladies

now resident at Stockholm, from which some pertinent information may

perhaps be gained. Fortunately I have the list now with me, if your

excellency will condescend to make present use of it,--however, I

cannot guarantee that you will find there the Georgina in question, as

the taste of my lord, your son, like that of other young cavaliers, may

possibly have led him into a lower circle, of which hitherto I have

been unable to find any tolerably correct catalogue.'

'Produce it!' cried the senator, with ill-humor;--and the secretary

drew forth his geneological list.

'H-m, h-m,' hummed he, perusing it. 'I cannot find any Georgina, and

yet the name must be very common at Stockholm. '_Eureka_!' he suddenly

exclaimed; 'here stands a Georgina! but whether it be the right one

must be determined by further evidence.'

'Come, be expeditious!' impatiently cried old Gyllenstierna.

'Georgina Henrike Dorothea Baroness von Goertz,' read Brodin, 'daughter

of George Heinrich Freiherrn von Goertz, privy counsellor and lord

marshal of the duke of Holstein Gottorp Durchlaucht, and temporary

prime minister and director of the finance commission of his royal

Swedish majesty.'

'He is out of his senses!' loudly exclaimed Gyllenstierna, interrupting

his secretary in his tedious narration. 'The maiden is yet but a mere

child!'

'According to my notes, past fourteen,' replied the secretary; 'but she

looks as if she were eighteen. She has been confirmed this year at the

time of Easter; and has thereby acquired, as it were, a privilege in

regard to such love affairs; besides, she is the only Georgina among

the ladies of this capital.'

'Indeed!' cried the senator, 'the youth flies high--that cannot be

denied, and is most gratifying to me. But a Goertz! Never!'

Startled by the vehemence of this _never_, the secretary shrunk back

for a moment--but, again approaching his master, 'might I presume,'

said he, submissively, in favor of the count Arwed, 'to state that a

connection with the family of the premier cannot diminish the lustre of

the house of Gyllenstierna, but on the contrary must conduce greatly to

its advantage.'

'Heigh, heigh, Brodin!' exclaimed old Gyllenstierna. 'Have you grown

gray at court and yet understand no better how to make skilful

combinations? Could I forgive this foreigner that he has foisted

himself upon Sweden, that he rules her as tyrannically as her sovereign

himself, and that he would willingly grind her in the dust with his

chimerical experiments--yet would sound policy forbid every connection

with his family. His authority is ephemeral. He stands with the king

and must fall with him. The _living_ Charles might venture to send his

boot to Stockholm to preside in the council instead of himself. The

minister of the _deceased_ Charles will have a difficult task--and will

be compelled to exert himself to save honor and life in the catastrophe

which will doubtless occur.'

'Our royal master is yet but thirty-six years of age,' observed Brodin:

'and is a giant in mental and physical strength.'

'But he daily sets his life upon a cast in the dangerous game of war,'

answered Gyllenstierna. 'Instead of avoiding personal danger, as a

royal commander should, he seeks it more recklessly than the lowliest

soldier of his army. No, that guaranty is very unsafe. It would be

folly to confide in the fortunate star of Goertz, and senselessly bind

myself to him by the ties of blood. Arwed must give up his foolish

love.'

'That,' said Brodin, rubbing his hands, 'will be likely to be rendered

difficult by the headstrong disposition of the young lord.'

'I am aware of it,' said Gyllenstierna. 'Yet when I have the will and

the power, I never suffer an interruption of my course. Arwed has just

now been soliciting leave to join the Norwegian expedition. He shall

set off for Norway this very night, and thus will his attention be

directed to other affairs.'

'But the precious life of the only heir of your noble house?' exclaimed

Brodin sorrowfully.

'A Gyllenstierna must inure himself to the hardships of war,' answered

the senator resolutely. 'All bullets do not hit, and even the worst

that could happen would not be to me so severe an affliction as this

mad connection. See that Arwed's equipments are prepared, and let my

carriage be driven to the door. I will to the vice-regent. Call my son

hither, and prepare for him a letter of introduction to lieutenant

general Armfelt. I will sign it on my return.'

Ominously shaking his head, Brodin left the room, and the senator again

carefully read through the love letter. 'His sudden passion for war is

now clear to me,' cried he at last. 'It is that he may soon become of

sufficient consequence to enable him to woo successfully the daughter

of the all-powerful favorite, who stands too high for the

undistinguished son of a simple count and senator of Sweden. I am sorry

for thee, poor youth, but thy plan must be abandoned.'

'You have commanded my presence my father,' said Arwed, who with a

discontented face now entered the cabinet.

'I have reflected further upon your request,' answered the senator. 'I

will for this time let the child have his way, to stop his weeping. As

soon as your letters of introduction are ready you will set off for the

army. From conquered Drontheim shall I expect your first letter.'

'Am I going to Armfelt's corps?' asked Arwed aghast.

'What a question!' observed the father. 'The lieutenant general is my

old friend. He will receive you with open arms, and give you an

advantageous position.'

'I much regret,' said Arwed, 'that with my thanks for granting my first

request, I must prefer a new one. I cannot, indeed, take the letter of

recommendation, dear father, and I would not be indebted to old

friendship for a commission. What I can win upon the field of honor,

that may I thank myself for.'

'Overstrained ideas,' murmured the father peevishly. You will regret

the want of patronage when, experience shall have taught you how far

merit can go without it.'

'In war the good will of one's comrades is necessary,' proceeded Arwed.

'The soldier who is pushed forward through favoritism, must renounce

it; and under Armfelt I foresee that I could not avoid being improperly

favored. Wherefore I beg of you to let me go without recommendation to

our king before Frederickshall.'

'Even to the most hopeless expedition of the whole campaign!' cried the

father. 'Before that unlucky city which during the last year has cost

Sweden her military renown, an entire third of her army, and very

nearly the life of her king,--where peasants and serving maids suddenly

became more furious than the hostile elements and put to flight the

conqueror of Moscow. How hast thou become possessed of this foolish

fancy?'

'I desire that Sweden's hero should witness my first essay in arms,'

answered Arwed.

'Overweening self confidence!' said the father. 'I trust that thou wilt

every where maintain the honor of our name, and the coolness of age

sees farther than the heat of youth. The king has not yet learned to be

sparing of his soldiers, as there is none but God to call him to

account for his conduct. The general has more restricted duties. And

although I appreciate eagerness for action and am disposed to satisfy

it, yet I cannot consent to place your life at the disposal of

Charles's mad humour. You go to Armfelt.'

'Dear father!' implored Arwed, and at that moment the valet-de-chambre

entered with the count's hat and sword and announced that the carriage

was ready.

'It is settled,' said the senator in the most decided manner to his

son, whilst he buckled on his sword. 'I will hear nothing further in

opposition to my determination.'

He snatched his hat violently from the servant, and hastily sallied

forth.

'This is hard!' said the afflicted Arwed. 'Must I obey?' he asked

himself after a moment's pause,--'Why torment myself!' cried he

finally. 'Gushes not for me, in one kind heart, the silver fountain of

goodness and wisdom? She shall tell me what is right in the struggle

between filial duty and my own better conviction. She shall decide.'