NEW ADVERSITIES.
It was afternoon. The sisters were busily quilting Louise's bridal
bed-cover; because at the end of May, as was determined in the family
council, that she was to be married. The coverlet was of green silk, and
a broad wreath of leafy oak branches formed its border. This pattern had
occasioned a great deal of care and deliberation; but now, also, what
joy did it not give rise to, and what ever-enduring admiration of the
tasteful, the distinguished, the indescribably good effect which it
produced, especially when seen from one side! Gabriele, to be sure,
would have made sundry little objections relative to the connexion of
the leaves, but Louise would not allow that there was any weight in
them: "The border," said she, "is altogether charming!"
Gabriele had placed a full-blown monthly rose in the light locks of the
bride, and had arranged with peculiar grace, around the plaited hair at
the back of her head, the green rose-leaves like a garland. The effect
was lovely, as at this time the sun-light fell upon her head, and her
countenance had more than ordinary charm; the cheeks a high colour; the
eyes a clearer blue, as they were often raised from the green
rose-wreath and directed towards the window. Jacobi, the new pastor, was
expected that evening.
Gabriele went up to her mother, and besought her to notice how well
Louise looked, and the rose, how becoming it was to her! The mother
kissed her, but forgot to notice Louise in looking at the lovely face of
"the little lady."
The industrious up-and-down picking of the needles accompanied the
joyful conversation of the sisters.
Now they talked about the management of the living; now about the
school; now about milk, and now about cheese. They settled about
household matters; about mealtimes; the arrangement of the table, and
such like. In many things Louise intended to follow the example of home;
in others, she should do differently. "People must advance with the
age." She intended that there should be great hospitality in the
parsonage-house--that was Jacobi's pleasure. Some one of her own family
she hoped to have always with her;--an especial wing should be built for
beloved guests. She would go every Sunday to church, to hear her husband
preach or sing the service. If the old wives came to the parsonage with
eggs, or other little presents, they should always be well entertained,
and encouraged to come again. All sick people should be regaled with
Louise's elixir, and all misdoers should be more or less reproved by
her. She would encourage all, to the very best of her power, to read, to
be industrious, to go to church, and to plant trees. Every Sunday
several worthy peasants should be invited with their wives to dine at
the parsonage. If the ladies of the Captain and the Steward came to
visit her, the coffee-pot should be immediately set on, and the
card-table prepared. Every young peasant girl should live in service a
whole year at the parsonage before she was married, in order to learn
how to work, and how to behave herself.--N. B. This would be wages
enough for her. At all marriages the Pastor and his wife would always be
present, the same at christenings; they would extend their hand in
sponsorship over the youth, that all might grow up in good-breeding and
the fear of God. At Midsummer and in harvest-time there should be a
dance, and great merry-making at the parsonage for the people--but
without brandy;--for the rest, nothing should be wanting:
None she forgets, the mistress of the feast,
The beer flows free, the bunch of keys it jingles,
And, without pause, goes on the stormy dance!
Work should be found for all beggars at the parsonage, and then food;
for lazy vagabonds a passing lecture, and then--march! And thus, by
degrees, would preparation be made for the Golden Age.
Ah! Ruin to the golden plans and to the golden age which they planned!
Two letters which were delivered to Louise put a sudden end to them all!
One of the letters was from Jacobi, was very short, and said only that
the parsonage was quite gone from him; but that Louise would not blame
him on that account, as soon as she understood the whole affair.
"I long for you inexpressibly," continued Jacobi, "but I must
postpone my arrival in X. in order to pay my respects to his
Excellency O----, who is detained in P. from an attack of gout,
which seized him on his journey from Copenhagen to Stockholm. But
by the 6th of May I hope certainly to be with you. I have new
plans, and I long to lay down all my feelings and all my thoughts
on your true breast. My Louise! I will no longer wait and seek.
Since fortune perpetually runs out of my way, I will now take a
leap and catch it, and in so doing trust in heaven, in you, and
lastly also--in myself. But you must give me your hand. If you
will do that, beloved, I shall soon be much happier than now, and
eternally,
"Your tenderly devoted, "J. Jacobi."
The other letter was from an unknown hand--evidently a woman's hand, and
was as follows:
"Do not hate me, although I have stood in the way of your happiness. Do
not hate me--for I bless you and the noble man with whom you have united
your fate. He is my benefactor, and the benefactor of my husband and my
children. Oh, these children whose future he has made sure, they will
now call on heaven to give a double measure of happiness to him and you
for that which he has so nobly renounced. The object of my writing is to
obtain your forgiveness, and to pour forth the feelings of a grateful
heart to those who can best reward my benefactor. Will you be pleased on
this account to listen to the short, but uninteresting relation of a
condition, which, at the same time, is as common as it is mournful?
"Perhaps Mr. Jacobi may at some time or other have mentioned my husband
to you. He was for several years Jacobi's teacher, and each was much
attached to the other. My husband held the office of schoolmaster in W.,
with honour, for twenty years. His small income, misfortunes which befel
us, a quick succession of children, made our condition more oppressive
from year to year, and increased the debt which from the very time when
we settled down first we were obliged to incur. My husband sought after
a pastoral cure, but he could have recourse to none of those arts which
are now so almost universally helpful, and which often conduct the
hunter after fortune, and the mean-spirited, rather than the deserving,
to the gaol of their wishes; he was too simple for that, too modest, and
perhaps also too proud.
"During the long course of years he had seen his just hopes deceived,
and from year to year the condition of his family become more and more
melancholy. Sickness had diminished his ability to work, and the fear of
not being able to pay his debts gnawed into his health, which was not
strong, and the prospect--of his nine unprovided-for children! I know I
should deeply affect your heart, if I were to paint to you the picture
of this family contending with want; but my tears would blot my writing.
Jacobi can do it--he has seen it, he has understood it; for this picture
which I have so carefully concealed from every other eye--this pale,
family misery I revealed to him, for I was in despair!
"The name of my husband stood on the list of candidates for the living
of T----. He had three-fold the legally-demanded requisites of Jacobi,
and was, over and above, known and beloved by the parish; all the
peasants capable of voting, openly declared their intention of choosing
him. Two great landed proprietors, however, had the ultimate decision:
Count D., and Mr. B. the proprietor of the mines, could, if they two
were agreed, they two alone, elect the pastor. They also acknowledged
the esteem in which they held my husband, and declared themselves
willing to unite in the general choice.
"For the first time in many years did we venture to look up to a
brighter future. Presently, however, we learnt that a powerful patron of
Mr. Jacobi had turned the whole scale in his favour, and that it would
be soon decided; the two great proprietors had promised their votes to
him, and our condition was more hopeless than ever.
"The day of nomination approached. I did not venture to speak with my
strictly conscientious husband of the design which I cherished. I had
heard much said of Jacobi's excellent character; I was a distracted wife
and mother. I sought out Jacobi, and spoke to him out of the depths of
my heart, spoke to his sense of right--to his sense of honour; I showed
him how the affair stood for us before he disturbed it, by means which
could not be justly called honourable. I feared that my words were
bitter, but all the more angel-like was it in Jacobi to hear me with
calmness. I pictured to him our present condition; told him how he might
save us from misery, and besought him to do it.
"My prayer at first was almost wild, and in the beginning Jacobi seemed
almost to think it so, but he heard me out; he let me conduct him to the
house of his former teacher, saw the consuming anxiety depicted on his
pale emaciated countenance; saw that I had exaggerated nothing; he wept,
pressed my hand with a word of consolation, and went out hastily.
"The day of nomination came. Jacobi renounced all claims. My husband was
elected to the living in T----. Good God! how it sounded in our ears and
in our hearts! For a long time we could not believe it. After fifteen
years of deceived hopes we hardly dared to believe in such happiness. I
longed to embrace the knees of my benefactor, but he was already far
distant from us. A few friendly lines came from him, which reconciled my
husband to his happiness, and Jacobi's renunciation, and which made the
measure of his noble behaviour full. I have not yet been able to thank
him; but you, his amiable bride, say to him----"
We omit the outpourings which closed this letter; they proceeded from a
warm, noble heart, overflowing with happiness and gratitude.
The needles fell from the fingers of the sisters as the mother, at
Louise's request, read this letter aloud, and astonishment, sympathy,
and a kind of admiring pleasure might be read in their looks. They all
gazed one on the other with silent and tearful eyes.
Gabriele was the first who broke silence: "So, then, we shall keep our
Louise with us yet longer," said she gaily, while she embraced her; and
all united cordially in the idea.
"But," sighed Leonore, "it is rather a pity, on account of our wedding
and our parsonage; we had got all so beautifully arranged."
Louise shed a few quiet tears, but evidently not merely over the
disappointed expectation. Later in the evening the mother talked with
her, and endeavoured to discover what were her feelings under these
adverse circumstances.
Louise replied, with all her customary candour, that at first it had
fallen very heavily upon her. "I had now," continued she, "fixed my
thoughts so much on an early union with Jacobi; I saw so much in my new
condition which would be good and joyful for us all. But though this is
now--and perhaps for ever, at an end, yet I do not exactly know if I
wish it otherwise; Jacobi has behaved so right, so nobly right, I feel
that I now prize him higher, and love him more than ever!"
It was difficult to the Judge not to be more cheerful than common this
evening. He was inexpressibly affectionate towards his eldest daughter;
he was charmed with the way in which she bore her fate, and it seemed to
him as if she had grown considerably.
On the following day they quietly went on again with the quilting of the
bed-cover, whilst Gabriele read aloud; and thus "the childhood of Eric
Menved" diverted with its refreshing magic power all thoughts from the
parsonage and its lost paradise to the rich middle age of Denmark, and
to its young king Eric.