been by the most celebrated painters of the Dutch School! They were
generally scenes from life; for instance, a company of people coming
back from the chase, singing, and playing on instruments, and the like.
They were full of deep meaning; and the heads, particularly, had a
wonderful expression of life and vigour. As Traugott was going back to
the other room, he noticed a picture close to the door, before which he
paused as if spell-bound. It was a portrait of a most beautiful girl,
in ancient German dress, but the face was exactly that of the lad, only
rounder and with more colour; and the figure seemed to be on a fuller
scale. A thrill of nameless delight went through Traugott at the sight
of this beautiful lady. In power and vigour the picture was quite equal
to a Vandyke. The dark eyes gazed down on Traugott with a might of
love-appeal; the sweet lips, half-parted, seemed to be whispering words
of affection.
"'Oh Heaven! oh Heaven!' sighed Traugott out of the depths of his
heart, 'where is she to be found?'
"'Come, sir,' said the lad, 'we must go to my father.'
"But Traugott cried, like one beside himself:
"'Ah! that is she, the beloved of my soul, whom I have so long
treasured in the depths of my heart, whom I was conscious of, and
recognized only in dreams! Where is she? Where is she?'
"The tears streamed from young Berklinger's eyes; he seemed torn with a
spasm of pain, scarce able to master his emotion.
"'Come!' he said at last, in a firm, steady voice. 'That is a portrait
of my sister, my unfortunate sister, Felizitas. She is lost, gone for
ever. You will never see her.'
"Traugott, scarcely conscious what he was doing, let himself be
conducted back to the other room. The old man was still asleep, but he
started up, with eyes flashing anger, and cried:
"'What are you doing here, sir?'
"The lad reminded him that he had just been showing Traugott his new
picture. He then seemed to remember what had happened. He appeared to
get weaker, and said, very faintly:
"'You will pardon an old man's forgetfulness, my dear sir?'
"Your new picture is a most magnificent work,' said Traugott. 'I have
never seen anything like it. It must take enormous labour and study to
paint like that. I trace in myself a great, irresistible bent towards
art, and I beg you most earnestly, my dear old master, to take me as
your most diligent and hard-working pupil.'
"The old man grew quite serene and kindly. He embraced Traugott, and
promised to be his faithful master and instructor. Traugott went to him
every day, and made great progress. His office work was now altogether
repugnant to him; he got so careless of it and inattentive to it that
Herr Elias Roos made loud complaints, and at last was glad when
Traugott, under the pretext of a lingering illness, gave up going to
the office at all: for which reason, also, the marriage was put off for
an indefinite time, to Christina's no small vexation.
"'That Mr. Traugott of yours,' said a business friend to Roos, 'looks
as if he had got something or other on his mind; perhaps some old love
debit which he would like to square up before he marries; he's so
terribly white, and wild-looking.'
"'Ay, ay,' said Elias; 'and why not, if he likes? I wonder,' he
continued after a little, 'if that sly little baggage of a Christina of
mine has been up to any tricks? That book-keeper's a spoony sort of
fellow; he's always kissing her hand, and squeezing it. Traugott's over
head and ears in love with her. Is it a bit of jealousy, I wonder? Gad!
I must watch how the cat jumps a little.'
"But though he watched as carefully as he could, he did _not_ see how
she jumped; and he said to the business friend aforesaid:
"'He's a precious rum customer, Master Traugott, I can tell you; but I
see nothing for it but to let him "gang his gate" as he likes best. If
he hadn't between seven and eight thousand pounds in my house, I should
soon let him see what I'd be after. Damme! he never does a stroke of
work in the office.'
"Traugott would now have been leading a life of the brightest sunshine
in the study of his art, had his heart not been consumed by the fervour
of his love for the beautiful Felizitas, whom he often saw in wondrous
dreams. Her portrait had disappeared; the old man had taken it away,
and Traugott did not dare to ask about it for fear of annoying him. For
the rest, Berklinger had got more and more confidence in Traugott as
time went on, and he now allowed him to better his narrow housekeeping
in many ways, instead of paying for his lessons in money. Traugott
learned from young Berklinger that the old man had lost very
considerably by the sale of a small collection of pictures, and that
the paper which Traugott had negotiated for him was all that had been
left of that sum, and was in fact all the money they had remaining. But
it was extremely seldom that he was able to have any talk with the lad
in private; the old man watched him with extraordinary vigilance, and
always instantly interfered when he was beginning to talk freely and
unconstrainedly with his friend. This pained Traugott greatly, as from
his extraordinary likeness to Felizitas he was devoted to him; and
often, when he was near the lad, he almost felt as if the beloved form
was by him in all its beauty--as if he felt the sweet breath of her
love; and he would fain have taken the lad to his heart as if he had
been the adored Felizitas herself.
"The winter was over; the beautiful spring shone forth, and blossomed
in all its loveliness in wood and meadow. Elias Boos advised Traugott
to go to some watering-place, or try a course of whey. Christina began
to look forward to her marriage again, though Traugott seldom showed
himself, and still seldomer allowed the idea of such a thing as
marriage to enter his head.
"One day, Traugott had been obliged to go to the office and spend a
considerable time there, in connection with the settlement of some
important accounts; so that the usual hour for his lesson was long
past, and he did not arrive at Berklinger's till it was late in the
evening twilight. He found nobody in the front-room, and from the next
proceeded the sound of a lute. He had never heard the instrument
before. He listened. A song, broken by pauses, breathed through the
chords like gentle sighs. He opened the door. Heavens! a female figure,
in ancient German dress, was seated with her back to him, with high
lace collar, exactly like the portrait. At the slight sound which
Traugott made in opening the door, the lady rose, laid the lute on the
table, and turned. It was her very self!
"'Felizitas!' Traugott cried wildly, in the fulness of his rapture, and
was going to kneel at her feet, when he felt himself seized by the neck
from behind, with a mighty grip, and dragged out of the room.
"'Profligate! Villain unparalleled!' cried old Berklinger, as he thrust
him out, 'this is your love of art, is it? Do you want to kill me?'
"He dragged him out at the door; a knife was gleaming in his hand.
Traugott fled down-stairs, stupefied, half crazy with love and terror.
He hurried home.
"He rolled about, sleepless, from side to side in his bed.
"'Felizitas! Felizitas!' he cried, torn with anguish and love-pain;
'you are here, and I may not see you!--cannot take you to my arms! For
you love me, that I know, by the bitter torture that I feel myself?'
"The spring sun came shining brightly into his room; he pulled himself
together, and resolved to get to the bottom of the mystery in
Berklinger's house, cost what it might. He went there as quickly as he
could; but what were his feelings when he saw that all the windows were
open, and women busy cleaning out the rooms. He felt what had happened.
Berklinger and his son had left the house late the previous evening,
and gone away, no one knew whither. A cart with two horses had taken
away the boxes with the pictures, and the two small trunks which
contained the Berklingers' little all; and he had followed, with his
son, about half-an-hour afterwards. All efforts to trace them were
vain; no stable-keeper had hired out horses to anybody answering to the
description of them which Traugott gave; even at the town-gates he
could hear nothing satisfactory. Berklinger had disappeared as if he
had been carried away on Mephistopheles's mantle. Traugott ran home in
utter despair.
"'She is gone! she is gone! the beloved of my soul! All--all is lost!'
he cried, as he went banging past Elias Roos (who happened to be in the
front hall near the entry door) on his way to his room.
"'God bless my soul and body!' cried Herr Elias, shoving back his wig.
'Christina! Christina!' he then cried till the house rang; 'Christina!
horrible girl! undutiful daughter!'
"The clerks came running out of the office with faces of terror.
"'What's the matter, Herr Roos?' cried the bookkeeper, in great alarm;
but Herr Roos went on shouting 'Christina! Christina!'
"'Just then Christina came in at the street-door, and, after she had
lifted the brim of her broad straw-hat up a little, asked, with a
smile, what her father was making such a shouting about.
"I'm not going to have you bolting away in this inexplicable sort of
way,' Herr Elias roared at her, wrathfully in the extreme. 'The
son-in-law's a melancholy sort of customer, and as jealous as the Grand
Turk. Just you keep at home, d'ye see, or we shall have all the fat in
the fire directly. My partner's sitting in there, howling and groaning,
because you're out of the way somewhere.'
"Christina cast a look of amazement at the bookkeeper, who replied by a
significant glance towards the office-cupboard where Herr Elias kept
the cinnamon-water.
"'Better go in and comfort the intended,' he said, going back to the
office. Christina went to her own room, just to put on some other
'things;' give out the week's washing; make the necessary arrangements
with the cook about the Sunday dinner, and hear the gossip of the town
during that process, and then go at once and see what was the matter
with the 'intended.'
"Yon know, dear reader, that we should all of us--had we been in
Traugott's place--have had to go through the essential stages of the
condition. No escape from that. After the despair comes a benumbed,
heavy brooding, in which the 'crisis' takes place; and then the
condition passes into a gentle sorrow, in which Nature knows how to
apply her remedies efficaciously.
"In this stage of heavy, but beneficent sorrow, Traugott was sitting
some days afterwards on the Karlsberg, gazing once more at the waves as
they beat upon the shore, and the grey mists that lay over Hela. But
not, this time, was he trying to read the future. All that he had hoped
and anticipated was past.
"'Ah!' he sighed, 'my calling for art was a bitter deception. Felizitas
was the phantom which lured me to believe in what never existed save in
the insane dreams of a fever-sick fool. It is all over. I fight no
more! Back to my prison! So let it be, and have done with it!'
"Traugott worked in the office again, and the marriage-day with
Christina was fixed once more. The day before it, Traugott was standing
in the Artus Hof, looking, not without inward heart-breaking sorrow, at
the fateful forms of the burgomaster and his page, when he noticed the
broker to whom Berklinger had been trying to sell his paper. Almost
involuntarily, without thinking what he was doing, he went up to him
and asked him:
"'Did you know a strange old man with a black, curly beard, who used to
come here some time ago, with a handsome lad?'
"'Of course I did,' said the broker: Godfried Berklinger, the mad
painter.'
"'Then have you any idea what's become of him?--where he's living now?'
"'Certainly I have,' answered the broker; 'he's been quietly settled
down at Sorrento for a good while, with his daughter?'
"'With his daughter Felizitas?' cried Traugott, so vehemently that all
the people looked round at him.
"'Well, yes,' answered the broker quietly; 'that was the nice-looking
lad that used to go about with the old man. Half Dantzic knew it was a
girl, though the old gentleman thought nobody would ever find it out.
It had been prophesied to him that if his daughter ever got into any
love-affair he would die a horrible death, and that was why he didn't
want anybody to know about her, and gave out that she was his son.'
"Traugott stood as if petrified. Then he set off running through the
streets, out at the town-gate to the open country, and on into the
woods, loudly lamenting.
"'Miserable wretch that I am!' he cried. 'It was she!--it was herself!
I have sate beside her thousands of times; inhaled her breath, pressed
her delicate hands, looked into her beautiful eyes, listened to her
sweet accents! and now she is lost! Ah, no!--lost she is not! After her
to the land of art! The hint of destiny is clear. Away!--away to
Sorrento!' He rushed home. Elias Roos chanced to come in his way. He
seized him, and dragged him into his room.
"'I'll never marry Christina!' he shouted; 'she's like the Voluptas,
and the Luxuries, and has hair like the Ira, in the picture in the
Artus Hof. Felizitas! beautiful, beloved being! how you stretch out
your longing arms to me! I am coming! I am coming! and I give you fair
warning, Elias,' he continued, once more clutching that man of
business, whose face was as white as a sheet, 'that you'll never see me
in that damned office of yours any more! What the devil do I care for
your infernal ledgers and day-books? I'm a painter--and a good painter
too: Berklinger is my master, my father, my everything; and you are
nothing--and less than nothing!'
"With this he gave Elias a good shaking, who shouted at the top of his
lungs, 'Help! help, you fellows! Come here! the son-in-law's gone off
his head! My partner's raving! Help! help!'
"The clerks all came rushing out of the office; Traugott had left Elias
go, and was lying exhausted in a chair. They all came round him; but on
his jumping up suddenly, with a wild look, and crying, 'What the devil
do you want?' they ran jostling out at the door in a heap, with Herr
Elias in the centre. Presently there was a rustling, as of a silk
dress, outside, and a voice inquired:
"Are you really gone out of your senses, Mr. Traugott, or are you only
joking?'
"It was Christina.
"'I'm not a bit wrong in my head, my clear child,' Traugott answered,
'and I'm not joking in the slightest degree. But there'll be no wedding
to-morrow, as far as I am concerned. As to that, my mind's completely
made up. It's impossible that ever I can marry you at all.'
"'Oh, very well,' said Christina, without the smallest excitement; 'I
haven't been caring so much about you for some time as I used, and
there are people who would think themselves very well off to marry me
if they got the chance. So, adieu.'
"With which she went rustling out.
"'She means the book-keeper,' thought Traugott. As he was calm, now, he
betook himself to Herr Roos, to whom he demonstrated circumstantially
that there could not possibly be any further question of him as a
son-in-law, or as a partner either. Herr Elias agreed to everything,
and asseverated, times without number, in the office, with gladness of
heart, that he thanked God he was well rid of the crack-brained
Traugott, when the latter was far away from Dantzic.
"Life dawned upon Traugott with a fresh and glorious brightness when he
found himself in the longed-for land. The German artists in Rome
admitted him into the circle of their studies, and thus it happened
that he made a longer stay there than his eagerness to see Felizitas,
which had urged him on restlessly till then, wholly justified. But this
longing had become less urgent. It had taken more the form of a
blissful dream whose perfumed shimmer pervaded all his being, so that
he looked upon it, and the exercise of his art, as matters belonging
wholly to the high and holy, super-earthly realm of blissful presage
and anticipation. Every female figure which he painted with his skilful
artist's hand had the face of the beautiful Felizitas. The young
artists were much struck by the beauty of this face, of which they
could not come across the original in Rome; and they besieged Traugott
with questions as to where he had seen her. But he felt a certain
shyness about telling them his strange adventure at Dantzic; till at
length an old friend of his, Matuszewski by name (who, like himself,
had devoted himself to painting in Rome), joyfully announced that he
had seen the girl whom Traugott introduced in all his pictures.
Traugott's joy may be imagined; he no longer made any secret of what it
was that had drawn him so strongly to art and brought him to Italy, and
the artists thought his Dantzic adventure so curious and interesting
that they all undertook to search eagerly for his lost love.
Matuszewski was the most successful; he soon found out where the girl
lived, and learnt, besides, that she really was the daughter of a poor
old painter, who was at that time tinting the walls in the church of
Trinita dell' Monte. Traugott went to that church with Matuszewski, and
thought he actually recognized old Berklinger in the painter, who was
up upon a lofty scaffold. From thence the friends, whom the old man had
not noticed, hurried to where he lived.
"'It is she!' cried Traugott when he saw the painter's daughter on the
balcony, busy about some woman's work. "With a loud cry of 'Felizitas!
Felizitas!' he burst into the room. The girl looked at him quite
terrified. She had the features of Felizitas, and was excessively like
her, but was not she. This bitter disappointment pierced Traugott's
heart as with a thousand daggers. Matuszewski explained to the girl how
the matter stood, in a few words. She was very lovely in her shyness,
with blushing cheeks and downcast eyes; and Traugott, who at first
wanted to be off immediately, remained where he was (after giving just
another sorrowful look at the pretty young creature), fettered by
gentle bands. Matuszewski managed to say polite and pleasant things to
reassure the pretty Dorina, who soon lifted the dark fringed curtains
of her eyes, and looked at the strangers with smiling glances, saying
her father would soon be home and that he would be delighted to see
German artists, of whom his opinion was high. Traugott could not but
admit that, except Felizitas, no woman had ever made such an impression
on him as Dorina. She was, in fact, almost Felizitas herself, only her
features were a little more strongly marked, and her hair a trifle
darker. It was the same portrait painted by Raphael and by Rubens. The
father came in ere long, and Traugott at once saw that the height of
the scaffold on which he had seen him had deceived him as to his
appearance. Instead of the vigorous Berklinger, this was a little lean,
timid creature, oppressed by poverty. A deceptive cross shadow in the
church had given to his smooth-shaven chin the effect of Berklinger's
black curly beard. He showed great practical knowledge in talking of
his art, and Traugott determined to cultivate an acquaintance which,
painfully as it had commenced, was becoming pleasanter every moment.
Dorina, all sweetness and childlike candour, allowed her liking for the
young German painter to be clearly seen. Traugott returned it heartily,
and soon got so accustomed to be with her that he spent entire days
with the little household, moved his studio to a large empty room near
their house, and at last went and lodged with them altogether. In this
way he greatly improved their slender scale of housekeeping, and the
old man could not think otherwise than that Traugott was going to marry
Dorina. He told him so, one day, plump and plain. Traugott was not a
little alarmed: for he only then began to ask himself what had become
of the object of his journey. Felizitas stood once more vividly before
his memory, and yet he did not feel able to quit Dorina. In some
mysterious way he could not think of ever possessing his vanished love
as a wife. Felizitas seemed a spiritual image, never either to be won,
or lost--eternally present to the spirit--never to be physically gained
and possessed. But Dorina often came to his thoughts as his dear wife.
Sweet thrills permeated him, a gentle glow streamed through his veins.
And yet it seemed a treason to his first love to allow himself to be
bound with new, indissoluble ties. Thus did the most contradictory
feelings strive in his heart. He could not come to a decision. He
avoided the old man carefully, who was under the impression that
Traugott was going to trick him out of his daughter, and took care to
talk everywhere of Traugott's marriage as a settled thing, saying that
otherwise he never would have allowed his daughter to contract an
intimacy so dangerous to her fair fame. One day his Italian blood fired
up, and he told Traugott distinctly that he must either marry Dorina,
or be off about his business, as he could not allow their intimacy to
go on, on its present footing, for another hour. Traugott was vexed and
indignant, and that not with the old man only. His own conduct struck
him as contemptible. It seemed a sin and an abomination to have ever
thought of another than Felizitas. It tore his heart to part from
Dorina, but he broke the tender ties by a mighty effort, and set off as
fast as possible to Naples--to Sorrento.
"He spent a year in the most careful efforts to discover Berklinger and
Felizitas--in vain; nobody knew anything about them. All that he traced
was a faint sort of surmise--based upon what seemed little more than a
legend--that there had once been an old German painter in Sorrento,
several years before. Driven to and fro as if upon a stormy ocean,
Traugott ended by settling down for some time in Naples; and, as he
worked more diligently at his painting again, the longing for Felizitas
grew gentler and milder in his heart. But he never saw a woman at all
resembling her in figure, walk, or bearing, without feeling the loss of
the dear, sweet child most painfully. When painting, he never thought
of Dorina, but always of Felizitas, who was his constant ideal.
"At last he got letters from home, in which his agent told him that
Herr Elias Roos had shuffled off this mortal coil, and that his
presence was necessary for the settlement of his affairs with the
book-keeper, who had married Christina, and was carrying on the
business. Traugott hastened back to Dantzic by the quickest route.
"There he stood once more in the Artus Hof, by the granite pillar,
opposite to the Burgomaster and the Page. He thought of the strange
adventure which had introduced such a painful element into his life;
and, in deep and painful sorrow, he gazed at the lad, who seemed to
welcome him back with eyes of life, and to whisper in sweet and
charming accents, 'You see, you could not leave me, after all!'
"'Can I believe my eyes? Is it really you, sir, back again safe and
sound, and quite cured of the troublesome melancholy which used to
bother you so?'
"So croaked a voice beside Traugott. It was our old acquaintance the
broker.
"'I never found them,' said Traugott involuntarily.
"'Them?' inquired the broker. 'Whom did you never find, sir?'
"'The painter, Godfredus Berklinger, and his daughter Felizitas,'
answered Traugott. 'I searched for them all over Italy; nobody knew
anything about them in Sorrento.'
"The broker looked at him with eyes of wide amazement, and stammered:
'Where did you look for them, sir? In Italy? at Naples? at Sorrento?'
"'Yes, of course I did,' said Traugott wrathfully.
"The broker struck his hands together time after time, crying 'Oh, my
goodness gracious! Oh, my goodness gracious! Oh, Mr. Traugott, sir!'
"'Well! what is there so astonishing about it?' said Traugott. 'Don't
go on like a donkey! For the sake of the woman he loves, a man will go
even as far as to Sorrento. Yes, yes! I loved Felizitas, and I went in
search of her.'
"But the broker jumped about on one leg, and kept on crying, 'Oh, my
goodness gracious!' till Traugott seized him and held him tight; and
looking at him with earnest glance said:
"'For God's sake, man, out with what you see so extraordinary about the
affair!'
"'But, Mr. Traugott,' began the broker at last, 'don't you know that
Herr Aloysius Brandstetter, the town councillor and Dean of Guild,
calls that little villa of his at the bottom of the Karlsberg, in the
fir wood near Conrad's Hammer, "Sorrento"? He bought Berklinger's
pictures, and took him and his daughter to live in his house, that's to
say, in Sorrento. They were there for a year or two, and you might have
stood upon the Karlsberg on your own logs, my dear sir, and looked down
into the garden, and seen Mademoiselle Felizitas walking about in funny
old-fashioned clothes, like those in the pictures there. You needn't
have taken the trouble to go to Italy! Afterwards the old man---- But
that's a painful story.'
"'Let me hear it,' said Traugott in a hollow voice.
"'Well,' continued the broker, 'young Mr. Brandstetter came back from
England and fell in love with Mademoiselle Felizitas; and once when he
found her in the garden, he fell romantically on his knees to her and
vowed he would marry her, and free her from the tyrannical slavery her
father kept her in. The old man was close by, though they didn't see
him; and as soon as ever Felizitas said, "I will be yours," he tumbled
down, with a hollow cry, as dead as a herring, sir! They say he looked
awful, all blue and bloody, for he had broken a blood-vessel somehow or
other. After that, Mademoiselle Felizitas couldn't endure young Mr.
Brandstetter, so she married Mr. Mathesius, the police magistrate at
Marienwerder. You'll go and call upon her, of course, for the sake of
old times. Marienwerder isn't quite so far away as Sorrento in Italy.
She's quite well, and very happy, They've got several nice children.'
"Traugott hastened away, silent and benumbed. This outcome of his
adventure filled him with awe and terror.
"'Oh no!' he cried. 'This is not she, this is not she--not Felizitas,
the angelic creature who kindled that eternal love and longing in my
soul! whom I went in search of to a far-off country, always and always
seeing her dear image before me like my star of fortune, beaming and
glowing in sweet hope! Felizitas! Mrs. Mathesius, wife of Mathesius,
the police magistrate. Ha! ha! ha! Mrs. Mathesius!'
"He laughed loud and bitterly in the wildness of his grief; and, as of
old, he went out at the Olivaer Gate and up on to the Karlsberg. He
looked down into the grounds of Sorrento: the tears rolled down his
cheeks. 'Ah!' he cried, 'how deeply, how incurably deeply, thou Eternal
Power that rulest all things, does thy bitter scorn and mockery wound
the tender hearts of poor humanity! But, no, no; why should the child,
who puts his hands into the fire instead of enjoying its warmth and
brightness, complain? Destiny was at work with me, visibly; but my
feeble eyes could not see; and, in my audacity, I thought that creation
of the old master which came so wondrously to life and approached me,
was a thing like myself, and that I could drag it down into this
wretched earthly existence. No, no, Felizitas! I have not lost you. You
are, and shall be, mine for ever, because you are the creative art
which lives within me. It is only now that I really know you. What have
you, what have I, to do with Mrs. Mathesius, the police magistrate's
wife? Nothing, that I can see.'
"'I couldn't quite see what you had to do with her, either, Mr.
Traugott,' a voice fell in.
"Traugott awoke from a dream. He found himself, without knowing how, in
the Artus Hof again, leaning on the granite pillar. The person who had
just spoken was Christina's husband. He handed Traugott a letter which
had just arrived from Rome. Matuszewski wrote:
"'Dorina is prettier and more charming than ever; only rather pale, for
love of you, dear friend. She expects you hourly, for she is certain
you could not desert her. She is really tremendously devoted to you.
When shall we see you here again?'
"'I'm very glad, indeed,' said Traugott to Christina's husband after
reading this, 'that we managed to settle all our business to-day, for I
start to-morrow for Rome, where the lady I am going to marry is
expecting me eagerly.'"
When Cyprian finished reading, the friends congratulated him on the
pleasant, healthy tone which pervaded his story. Only Theodore thought
the fair sex might find a good deal to take exception to in it, and
that not only the blonde Christina with her well scoured pots and pans,
but the mystification of the hero, Mrs. Mathesius the police
magistrate's wife and all the latter part of the story, with its
profound irony, would much displease them.
"If you are going to model your work," said Lothair, "according
to what pleases women, you must, of course, leave out irony
altogether--although it is the source of the most delicate and
delightful kind of humour--because they have not, as a general rule,
the smallest sense of it."
"Which I, for one, am thoroughly glad is the case," said Theodore.
"You'll admit that humour, which, in us, takes its source in striking
contrasts, is quite foreign to feminine nature. And we are vividly
conscious of this, though we may not often clearly account to ourselves
for it. For, tell me, though you may take pleasure for a time in the
conversation of a witty and humorous woman, would you like her as a
sweetheart or a wife?"
"Not at all," said Lothair, "although there is a great deal to be said
on the extensive question of how far humour is a feminine quality or
otherwise; and I hereby reserve the privilege of hereafter addressing
my worthy Serapion Brethren, at a suitable opportunity, on this
important question, with a fulness and wisdom with which no
psychologist has as yet discussed it. But, as a general query, let me
ask you, Theodore, if you consider it essentially necessary to think of
every superior woman, with whom one may have a little rational
conversation, in the light of a sweetheart or wife?"
"I think," said Theodore, "that any feminine being can only really
interest one if one, at all events, does not shrink from the idea of
her as a sweetheart or wife, and that, the more this idea finds
comfortable room in one's mind, the greater is the interest."
"That," said Ottmar, laughing, "is one of Theodore's most daring
theories, which I know well of old. He has always acted up to it, and
often coolly turned his back upon many a charming creature, because he
couldn't manage to fancy himself in love with her for an hour or two.
Even as a dancing student, he used to declare, earnestly, that he gave
his heart to every girl he danced with, at all events while the waltz
or quadrille lasted; and he used to try to express in his 'steps' what
his lips were forbidden to utter, and sigh as profoundly as his stock
of breath would let him."
"Allow me," said Theodore, "to interrupt this un-Serapiontish
conversation. It is late; and I should be sorry not to read you,
to-night, a tale which I finished yesterday. The spirit moved me to
treat, rather more fully than has been done previously, a well-known
_thema_ concerning a miner at Falun; and you must decide whether I have
done well to yield to the spirit's prompting, or not. I have had to
keep my colouring down to a melancholy tone, which may perhaps contrast
unfavourably with Cyprian's more cheerful picture. Forgive me this, and
lend me a favourable ear."
Theodore read:--
"THE MINES OF FALUN.
"One bright, sunny day in July the whole population of Goethaborg was
assembled at the harbour. A fine East-Indiaman, happily returned from
her long voyage, was lying at anchor, with her long, homeward-bound
pennant, and the Swedish flag fluttering gaily in the azure sky.
Hundreds of boats, skiffs, and other small craft, thronged with
rejoicing seafolk, were going to and fro on the mirroring waters of the
Goethaelf, and the cannon of Masthuggetorg thundered their far-echoing
greeting out to sea. The gentlemen of the East-India Company were
walking up and down on the quay, reckoning up, with smiling faces, the
plentiful profits they had netted, and rejoicing their hearts at the
yearly increasing success of their hazardous enterprise, and at the
growing commercial importance of their good town of Goethaborg. For the
same reasons everybody looked at these brave adventurers with pleasure
and pride, and shared their rejoicing; for their success brought sap
and vigour into the whole life of the place.
"The crew of the East-Indiaman, about a hundred strong, landed in a
number of boats (gaily dressed with flags for the occasion) and
prepared to hold their 'Hoensning.' That is the name of the feast which
the sailors hold on such occasions; it often goes on for several days.
Musicians went before them, in strange, gay dresses, playing lustily on
violins, oboes, fifes and drums, whilst others sung merry songs; after
them came the crew, walking two and two; some, with gay ribbons on
their hats and jackets, waved fluttering streamers; others danced and
skipped; and all of them shouted and cheered at the tops of their
voices, till the sounds of merriment rang far and wide.
"Thus the gay procession passed through the streets, and on to the Haga
suburb, where a feast of eating and drinking was ready for them in a
tavern.
"Here the best of 'Oel' flowed in rivers and bumper after bumper was
quaffed. Numbers of women joined them, as is always the case when
sailors come home from a long voyage; dancing began, and wilder and
wilder grew the revel, and louder and louder the din.
"One sailor only--a slender, handsome lad of about twenty, or scarcely
so much--had slipped away from the revel, and was sitting alone
outside, on the bench at the door of the tavern.
"Two or three of his shipmates came out to him, and cried, laughing
loudly:
"'Now then, Elis Froebom! are you going to be a donkey, as usual, and
sit out here in the sulks, instead of joining the sport like a man?
Why, you might as well part company from the old ship altogether, and
set sail on your own hook, as fight shy of the "Hoensning." One would
think you were a regular long-shore land-lubber, and had never been
afloat on blue water. All the same, you've got as good pluck as any
sailor that walks a deck--ay, and as cool and steady a head in a gale
of wind as ever I came athwart; but, you see, you can't take your
liquor! You'd sooner keep the ducats in your pocket than serve them out
to the land-sharks ashore here. There, lad! take a drink of that; or
Naecken, the sea-devil, and all the Troll will be foul of your hawse
before you know where you are!'
"Elis Froebom jumped up quickly from the bench; glared angrily at
his shipmates; took the tumbler--which was filled to the brim with
brandy--and emptied it at a draught; then he said:
"'You see I can take my glass with any man of you, Ivens; and you can
ask the captain if I'm a good sailor-man, or not; so stow away that
long tongue of yours, and sheer off! I don't care about all this drink
and row here; and what I'm doing out here by myself is no business of
yours; you have nothing to do with it.'
"'All right, my hearty!' answered Ivens. 'I know all about it. You're
one of these Nerica men--and a moony lot the whole cargo of them are
too. They're the sort of chaps that would rather sit and pipe their eye
about nothing particular, than take a good glass, and see what the
pretty lasses at home are made of, after a twelve-month's cruize! But
just you belay there a bit. Steer full and bye, and stand off and on,
and I'll send somebody out to you that'll cut you adrift, in a pig's
whisper, from that old bench where you've cast your anchor.'
"They went; and presently a very pretty, rather refined-looking girl
came out of the tavern, and sat down beside the melancholy Elis, who
was still sitting, silent and thoughtful, on the bench. From her dress
and general appearance there could be no doubt as to her terrible
calling. But the life she was leading had not yet quite marred the
delicacy of the wonderfully tender features of her beautiful face;
there was no trace of repulsive boldness about the expression of her
dark eyes--rather a quiet, melancholy longing.
"'Aren't you coming to join your shipmates, Elis?' she said. 'Now that
you're back safe and sound, after all you've gone through on your long
voyage, aren't you glad to be home in the old country again?'
"The girl spoke in a soft, gentle voice, putting her arms about him.
Elis Froebom looked into her eyes, as if roused from a dream. He took
her hand; he pressed her to his breast. It was evident that what she
had said had made its way to his heart.
"'Ah!' he said, as if collecting his thoughts, 'it's no use talking
about my enjoying myself. I can't join in all that riot and uproar;
there's no pleasure in it, for me. You go away, my dear child! Sing and
shout like the rest of them, if you can, and let the gloomy, melancholy
Elis stay out here by himself; he would only spoil your pleasure. Wait
a minute, though! I like you, and I should wish you to think of me
sometimes, when I'm away on the sea again.'
"With that he took two shining ducats out of his pocket, and a
beautiful Indian handkerchief from his breast, and gave them to the
girl. But her eyes streamed with tears; she rose, laid the money on the
bench, and said:
"'Oh, keep your ducats; they only make me miserable; but I'll wear the
handkerchief in dear remembrance of you. You're not likely to find me
next year when you hold your Hoensning in the Haga.'
"And she crept slowly away down the street, with her hands pressed to
her face.
"Elis fell back into his gloomy reveries. At length, as the uproar in
the tavern grew loud and wild, he cried:
"'Oh, that I were lying deep, deep beneath the sea! for there's nobody
left in the wide, wide world that I can be happy with now!'
"A deep, harsh voice spoke, close behind him: 'You must have been most
unfortunate, youngster, to wish to die, just when life should be
opening before you.'
"Elis looked round, and saw an old miner standing leaning against the
boarded wall of the tavern, with folded arms, looking down at him with
a grave, penetrating glance.
"As Elis looked at him, a feeling came to him as if some familiar
figure had suddenly come into the deep, wild solitude in which he had
thought himself lost. He pulled himself together, and told the old
miner that his father had been a stout sailor, but had perished in the
storm from which he himself had been saved as by a miracle; that his
two soldier brothers had died in battle, and he had supported his
mother with the liberal pay he drew for sailing to the East Indies. He
said he had been obliged to follow the life of a sailor, having been
brought up to it from childhood, and it had been a great piece of good
fortune that he got into the service of the East-India Company. This
voyage, the profits had been greater than usual, and each of the crew
had been given a sum of money over and above his pay; so that he had
hastened, in the highest spirits, with his pockets full of ducats, to
the little cottage where his mother lived. But strange faces looked at
him from the windows, and a young woman who opened the door to him at
last told him, in a cold, harsh tone, that his mother had died three
months before, and that he would find the few bits of things that were
left, after paying the funeral expenses, waiting for him at the Town
Hall. The death of his mother broke his heart. He felt alone in the
world--as much so as if he had been wrecked on some lonely reef,
helpless and miserable. All his life at sea seemed to him to have been
a mistaken, purposeless driving. And when he thought of his mother,
perhaps badly looked after by strangers, he thought it a wrong and
horrible thing that he should have gone to sea at all, instead of
staying at home and taking proper care of her. His comrades had dragged
him to the Hoensning in spite of himself, and he had thought, too, that
the uproar, and even the drink, might have deadened his pain; but
instead of that, all the veins in his breast seemed to be bursting, and
he felt as if he must bleed to death.
"'Well,' said the old miner, 'you'll soon be off to sea again, Elis,
and then your sorrow will soon be over. Old folks must die; there's no
help for that: she has only gone from this miserable world to a
better.'
"Ah!' said Elis, 'it is just because nobody believes in my sorrow, and
that they all think me a fool to feel it--I say it's that which is
driving me out of the world! I shan't go to sea any more; I'm sick of
existence altogether. When the ship used to go flying along through the
water, with all sail set, spreading like glorious wings, the waves
playing and dashing in exquisite music, and the wind singing in the
rigging, my heart used to bound. Then I could hurrah and shout on deck
like the best of them. And when I was on look-out duty of dark, quiet
nights, I used to think about getting home, and how glad my dear old
mother would be to have me back. I could enjoy a Hoensning like the
rest of them, then. And when I had shaken the ducats into mother's lap,
and given her the handkerchiefs and all the other pretty things I had
brought home, her eyes would sparkle with pleasure, and she would clap
her hands for joy, and run out and in, and fetch me the "Aehl" which
she had kept for my homecoming. And when I sat with her of an evening,
I would tell her of all the strange folks I had seen, and their ways
and customs, and about the wonderful things I had come across in my
long voyages. This delighted her; and she would tell me of my father's
wonderful cruizes in the far North, and serve me up lots of strange,
sailor's yarns, which I had heard a hundred times, but never could hear
too often. Ah! who will give me that happiness back again? No, no!
never more on land!--never more at sea! What should I do among my
shipmates? They would only laugh at me. Where should I find any heart
for my work? It would be nothing but an objectless striving.'
"It gives me real satisfaction to listen to you, youngster,' said the
old miner. 'I have been observing you, without your knowledge, for the
last hour or two, and have had my own enjoyment in so doing. All that
you have said and done has shown me that you possess a profoundly
thoughtful mind, and a character and nature pious, simple, and sincere.
Heaven could have given you no more precious gifts; but you were never
in all your born days in the least cut out for a sailor. How should the
wild, unsettled sailor's life suit a meditative, melancholy Neriker
like you?--for I can see that you come from Nerica by your features,
and whole appearance. You are right to say good-bye to that life for
ever. But you're not going to walk about idle, with your hands in your
pockets? Take my advice, Elis Froebom. Go to Falun, and be a miner. You
are young and strong. You'll soon be a first-class pick-hand; then a
hewer; presently a surveyor, and so get higher and higher. You have a
lot of ducats in your pocket. Take care of them; invest them; add more
to them. Very likely you'll soon get a "Hemmans" of your own, and then
a share in the works. Take my advice, Elis Froebom; be a miner.'
"The old man's words caused him a sort of fear.
"'What?' he cried. 'Would you have me leave the bright, sunny sky that
revives and refreshes me, and go down into that dreadful, hell-like
abyss, and dig and tunnel like a mole for metals and ores, merely to
gain a few wretched ducats? Oh, never!'
"'The usual thing,' said the old man. 'People despise what they have
had no chance of knowing anything about! As if all the constant
wearing, petty anxieties inseparable from business up here on the
surface, were nobler than the miner's work. To his skill, knowledge,
and untiring industry Nature lays bare her most secret treasures. You
speak of gain with contempt, Elis Froebom. Well, there's something
infinitely higher in question here, perhaps: the mole tunnels the
ground from blind instinct; but, it may be, in the deepest depths, by
the pale glimmer of the mine candle, men's eyes get to see clearer, and
at length, growing stronger and stronger, acquire the power of reading
in the stones, the gems, and the minerals, the mirroring of secrets
which are hidden above the clouds. You know nothing about mining, Elis.
Let me tell you a little.'
"He sat down on the bench beside Elis, and began to describe the
various processes minutely, placing all the details before him in the
clearest and brightest colours. He talked of the Mines of Falun, in
which he said he had worked since he was a boy; he described the great
main-shaft, with its dark brown sides; he told how incalculably rich
the mine was in gems of the finest water. More and more vivid grew his
words, more and more glowing his face. He went, in his description,
through the different shafts as if they had been the alleys of some
enchanted garden. The jewels came to life, the fossils began to move;
the wondrous Pyrosmalite and the Almandine flashed in the light of the
miner's candles; the Rock-Crystals glittered, and darted their rays.
"Elis listened intently. The old man's strange way of speaking of all
these subterranean marvels as if he were standing in the midst of them,
impressed him deeply. His breast felt stifled; it seemed to him as if
he were already down in these depths with the old man, and would never
more look upon the friendly light of day. And yet it seemed as though
the old man were opening to him a new and unknown world, to which he
really properly belonged, and that he had somehow felt all the magic of
that world, in mystic forebodings, since his boyhood.
"Elis Froebom,' said the old man at length, 'I have laid before you all
the glories of a calling for which Nature really destined you. Think
the subject well over with yourself, and then act as your better
judgment counsels you.'
"He rose quickly from the bench, and strode away without any good-bye
to Elis, without looking at him even. Soon he disappeared from his
sight.
"Meanwhile quietness had set in in the tavern. The strong 'Aehl' and
brandy had got the upper hand. Many of the sailors had gone away with
the girls; others were lying snoring in corners. Elis--who could go no
more to his old home--asked for, and was given, a little room to sleep
in.
"Scarcely had he thrown himself, worn and weary as he was, upon his
bed, when dreams began to wave their pinions over him. He thought he
was sailing in a beautiful vessel on a sea calm and clear as a mirror,
with a dark, cloudy sky vaulted overhead. But when he looked down into
the sea he presently saw that what he had thought was water was a firm,
transparent, sparkling substance, in the shimmer of which the ship, in
a wonderful manner, melted away, so that he found himself standing upon
this floor of crystal, with a vault of black rock above him, for that
was rock which he had taken at first for clouds. Impelled by some power
unknown to him he stepped onwards, but, at that moment, every thing
around him began to move, and wonderful plants and flowers, of
glittering metal, came shooting up out of the crystal mass he was
standing on, and entwined their leaves and blossoms in the loveliest
manner. The crystal floor was so transparent that Elis could distinctly
see the roots of these plants. But soon, as his glance penetrated
deeper and deeper, he saw, far, far down in the depths, innumerable
beautiful maidens, holding each other embraced with white, gleaming
arms; and it was from their hearts that the roots, plants, and flowers
were growing. And when these maidens smiled, a sweet sound rang all
through the vault above, and the wonderful metal-flowers shot up
higher, and waved their leaves and branches in joy. An indescribable
sense of rapture came upon the lad; a world of love and passionate
longing awoke in his heart.
"'Down, down to you!' he cried, and threw himself with outstretched
arras down upon the crystal ground. But it gave way under him, and he
seemed to be floating in shimmering aether.
"'Ha! Elis Froebom; what think you of this world of glory?' a strong
voice cried. It was the old miner. But as Elis looked at him, he seemed
to expand into gigantic size, and to be made of glowing metal. Elis was
beginning to be terrified; but a brilliant light came darting, like a
sudden lightning-flash, out of the depths of the abyss, and the earnest
face of a grand, majestic woman appeared. Elis felt the rapture of his
heart swelling and swelling into destroying pain. The old man had hold
of him, and cried:
"'Take care, Elis Froebom! That is the queen. You may look up now.'
"He turned his head involuntarily, and saw the stars of the night sky
shining through a cleft in the vault overhead. A gentle voice called
his name as if in inconsolable sorrow. It was his mother's. He thought
he saw her form up at the cleft. But it was a young and beautiful woman
who was calling him, and stretching her hands down into the vault.
"'Take me up!' he cried to the old man. I tell you I belong to the
upper world, and its familiar, friendly sky.'
"'Take care, Froebom,' said the old man solemnly; 'be faithful to the
queen, whom you have devoted yourself to.'
"But now, when he looked down again into the immobile face of the
majestic woman, he felt that his personality dissolved away into
glowing molten stone. He screamed aloud, in nameless fear, and awoke
from this dream of wonder, whose rapture and terror echoed deep within
his being.
"'I suppose I could scarcely help dreaming all this extraordinary
stuff,' he said to himself, as he collected his senses with difficulty;
'the old miner told me so much about the glories of the subterranean
world that of course my head's quite full of it. But I never in my life
felt as I do now. Perhaps I'm dreaming still. No, no; I suppose I
must be a little out of sorts. Let's get into the open air. The fresh
sea-breeze'll soon set me all right.'
"He pulled himself together, and ran to the Klippa Haven, where the
uproar of the Hoensning was breaking out again. But he soon found that
all enjoyment passed him by, that he couldn't hold any thought fast in
his mind, that presages and wishes, to which he could give no name,
went crossing each other in his mind. He thought of his dead mother
with the bitterest sorrow; but then, again, it seemed to him that what
he most longed for was to see that girl again--the one whom he gave the
handkerchief to--who had spoken so nicely to him the evening before.
And yet he was afraid that if she were to come meeting him out of some
street she would turn out to be the old miner in the end. And he was
afraid of _him_; though, at the same time, he would have liked to hear
more from him of the wonders of the mine.
"Driven hither and thither by all these fancies, he looked down into
the water, and then he thought he saw the silver ripples hardening into
the sparkling glimmer in which the grand ships melted away, while the
dark clouds, which were beginning to gather and obscure the blue sky,
seemed to sink down and thicken into a vault of rock. He was in his
dream again, gazing into the immobile face of the majestic woman, and
the devouring pain of passionate longing took possession of him as
before.
"His shipmates roused him from his reverie to go and join one of their
processions, but an unknown voice seemed to whisper in his ear:
"'What are you doing here? Away, away! Your home is in the Mines of
Falun. There all the glories which you saw in your dream are waiting
for you. Away, away to Falun!'
"For three days Elis hung and loitered about the streets of Goethaborg,
constantly haunted by the wonderful imagery of his dream, continually
urged by the unknown voice. On the fourth day he was standing at the
gate through which the road to Gefle goes, when a tall man walked
through it, passing him. Elis fancied he recognized in this man the old
miner, and he hastened on after him, but could not overtake him.
"He followed him on and on, without stopping.
"He knew he was on the road to Falun, and this circumstance quieted him
in a curious way; for he felt certain that the voice of destiny had
spoken to him through the old miner, and that it was he who was now
leading him on to his appointed place and fate.
"And, in fact, he many times--particularly if there was any uncertainty
about the road--saw the old man suddenly appear out of some ravine, or
from thick bushes, or gloomy rocks, stalk away before him, without
looking round, and then disappear again.
"At last, after journeying for many weary days, Elis saw, in the
distance, two great lakes, with a thick vapour rising between them. As
he mounted the hill to westward, he saw some towers and black roofs
rising through the smoke. The old man appeared before him, grown to
gigantic size, pointed with outstretched hand towards the vapour, and
disappeared again amongst the rocks.
"'There lies Falun,' said Elis, 'the end of my journey.'
"He was right; for people, coming up from behind him, said the town of
Falun lay between the lakes Runn and Warpann, and that the hill he was
ascending was the Guffrisberg, where the main-shaft of the mine was.
"He went bravely on. But when he came to the enormous gulf, like the
jaws of hell itself, the blood curdled in his veins, and he stood as if
turned to stone at the sight of this colossal work of destruction.
"The main-shaft of the Falun mines is some twelve hundred feet long,
six hundred feet broad, and a hundred and eighty feet deep. Its dark
brown sides go, at first for the most part, perpendicularly down, till
about half way they are sloped inwards towards the centre by enormous
accumulations of stones and refuse. In these, and on the sides, there
peeped out here and there timberings of old shafts, formed of strong
shores set close together and strongly rabbeted at the ends, in the way
that blockhouses are built. Not a tree, not a blade of grass to be seen
in all the bare, blank, crumbling congeries of stony chasms; the
pointed, jagged, indented masses of rock tower aloft all round in
wonderful forms, often like monstrous animals turned to stone, often
like colossal human beings. In the abyss itself lie, in wild
confusion--pell-mell stones, slag, and scoria, and an eternal,
stupefying sulphury vapour rises from the depths, as if the hell-broth,
whose reek poisons and kills all the green gladsomeness of nature, were
being brewed down below. One would think this was where Dante went down
and saw the Inferno, with all its horror and immitigable pain.
"As Elis looked down into this monstrous abyss, he remembered what an
old sailor, one of his shipmates, had told him once. This shipmate of
his, at a time when he was down with fever, thought the sea had
suddenly all gone dry, and the boundless depths of the abyss had opened
under him, so that he saw all the horrible creatures of the deep
twining and writhing about amongst thousands of extraordinary shells,
and groves of coral, in dreadful contortions, till they died, and lay
dead, with their mouths all gaping. The old sailor said that to see
such a vision meant death, ere long, in the waves; and in fact he did
very soon after fall overboard, no one knew exactly how, and was
drowned without possibility of rescue. Elis thought of that: for indeed
the abyss seemed to him to be a good deal like the bottom of the sea
run dry; and the black rocks, and the blue and red slag and scoria,
were like horrible monsters shooting out polype-arms at him. Two or
three miners happened, just then, to be coming up from work in the
mine, and in their dark mining clothes, with their black, grimy faces,
they were much like ugly, diabolical creatures of some sort, slowly and
painfully crawling, and forcing their way up to the surface.
"Elis felt a shudder of dread go through him, and--what he had never
experienced in all his career as a sailor--his head got giddy. Unseen
hands seemed to be dragging him down into the abyss.
"He closed his eyes and ran a few steps away from it; and it was not
till he began climbing up the Guffrisberg again, far from the shaft,
and could look up at the bright, sunny sky, that he quite lost the
feeling of terror which had taken possession of him. He breathed freely
once more, and cried, from the depths of his heart:
"'Lord of my Life! what are the dangers of the sea compared with the
horror which dwells in that awful abyss of rock? The storm may rage,
the black clouds may come whirling down upon the breaking billows, but
the beautiful, glorious sun soon gets the mastery again, and the storm
is past. But never does the sun penetrate into these black, gloomy
caverns; never a freshening breeze of spring can revive the heart down
there. No! I shall not join you, black earthworms that you are! Never
could I bring myself to lead that terrible life.'
"He resolved to spend that night in Falun, and set off back to
Goethaborg the first thing in the morning.
"When he got to the market-place, he found a crowd of people there. A
train of miners with their mine-candles in their hands, and musicians
before them, was halted before a handsome house. A tall, slightly-built
man, of middle age, came out, looking round him with kindly smiles. It
was easy to see, by his frank manner, his open brow, and his bright,
dark-blue eyes, that he was a genuine Dalkarl. The miners formed a
circle round him, and he shook them each cordially by the hand, saying
kindly words to them all.
"Elis learned that this was Pehrson Dahlsjoe, Alderman, and owner of a
fine 'Fraelse' at Stora-Kopparberg. 'Fraelse' is the name given in
Sweden to landed property leased out for the working of the lodes of
copper and silver contained in it. The owners of these lands have
shares in the mines and are responsible for their management.
"Elis was told, further, that the Assizes were just over that day, and
that then the miners went round in procession to the houses of the
aldermen, the chief engineers and the minemasters, and were hospitably
entertained.
"When he looked at these fine, handsome fellows, with their kindly,
frank faces, he forgot all about the earthworms he had seen coming up
the shaft. The healthy gladsomeness which broke out afresh in the whole
circle, as if new-fanned by a spring breeze, when Pehrson Dahlsjoe came
out, was of a different kidney to the senseless noise and uproar of the
sailors' Hoensning. The manner in which these miners enjoyed themselves
went straight to the serious Elis's heart. He felt indescribably happy;
but he could scarce restrain his tears when some of the young pickmen
sang an ancient ditty in praise of the miner's calling, and of the
happiness of his lot, to a simple melody which touched his heart and
soul.
"When this song was ended, Pehrson Dahlsjoe opened his door, and the
miners all went into his house one after another. Elis followed
involuntarily, and stood at the threshold, so that he overlooked the
spacious floor, where the miners took their places on benches. Then the
doors at the side opposite to him opened, and a beautiful young lady,
in evening dress, came in. She was in the full glory of the freshest
bloom of youth, tall and slight, with dark hair in many curls, and a
bodice fastened with rich clasps. The miners all stood up, and a low
murmur of pleasure ran through their ranks. "Ulla Dahlsjoe!" they said.
"What a blessing Heaven has bestowed on our hearty alderman in her!"
Even the oldest miners' eyes sparkled when she gave them her hand in
kindly greeting, as she did to them all. Then she brought beautiful
silver tankards, filled them with splendid Aehl (such as Falun is
famous for), and handed them to the guests with a face beaming with
kindness and hospitality.
"When Elis saw her a lightning flash seemed to go through his heart,
kindling all the heavenly bliss, the love-longings, the passionate
ardour lying hidden and imprisoned there. For it was Ulla Dahlsjoe who
had held out the hand of rescue to him in his mysterious dream. He
thought he understood, now, the deep significance of that dream, and,
forgetting the old miner, praised the stroke of fortune which had
brought him to Falun.
"Alas! he felt he was but an unknown, unnoticed stranger, standing
there on the doorstep miserable, comfortless, alone--and he wished he
had died before he saw Ulla, as he now must perish for love and
longing. He could not move his eyes from the beautiful creature, and,
as she passed close to him, he pronounced her name in a low, trembling
voice. She turned, and saw him standing there with a face as red as
fire, unable to utter a syllable. So she went up to him, and said, with
a sweet smile:
"'I suppose you are a stranger, friend, as you are dressed as a sailor.
Well! why are you standing at the door? Come in and join us."
"Elis felt as if in the blissful paradise of some happy dream, from
which he would presently waken to inexpressible wretchedness. He
emptied the tankard which she had given him; and Pehrson Dahlsjoe came
up, and, after kindly shaking hands with him, asked him where he came
from, and what had brought him to Falun.
"Elis felt the warming power of the noble liquor in his veins, and,
looking the hearty Dahlsjoe in the eyes, he felt happy and courageous.
He told him he was a sailor's son and had been at sea since his
childhood, had just come home from the East Indies and found his mother
dead; that he was now alone in the world; that the wild sea life had
become altogether distasteful to him; that his keenest inclination led
him to a miner's calling, and that he wished to get employment as a
miner here in Falun. The latter statement, quite the reverse of his
recent determination, escaped him involuntarily; it was as if he could
not have said anything else to the alderman, nay as if it were the most
ardent desire of his soul, although he had not known it till now,
himself.
"Pehrson Dahlsjoe looked at him long and carefully, as if he would read
his heart; then he said:
"'I cannot suppose, Elis Froebom, that it is mere thoughtless
fickleness and the love of change that lead you to give up the calling
you have followed hitherto, nor that you have omitted to maturely weigh
and consider all the difficulties and hardships of the miner's life
before making up your mind to take to it. It is an old belief with us
that the mighty elements with which the miner has to deal, and which he
controls so bravely, destroy him unless he strains all his being to
keep command of them--if he gives place to other thoughts which weaken
that vigour which he has to reserve wholly for his constant conflict
with Earth and Fire. But if you have properly tested the sincerity of
your inward call, and it has withstood the trial, you are come in a
good hour. Workmen are wanted in my part of the mine. If you like, you
can stay here with me, from now, and to-morrow the Captain will take
you down with him, and show you what to set about.'
"Elis's heart swelled with gladness at this. He thought no more of the
terror of the awful, hell-like abyss into which he had looked. The
thought that he was going to see Ulla every day, and live under the
same roof with her, filled him with rapture and delight. He gave way to
the sweetest hopes.
"Pehrson Dahlsjoe told the miners that a young hand had applied for
employment, and presented him to them then and there. They all looked
approvingly at the well-knit lad, and thought he was quite cut out for
a miner, as regarded his light, powerful figure, having no doubt that
he would not fail in industry and straightforwardness, either.
"One of the men, well advanced in years, came and shook hands with him
cordially, saying he was Head-Captain in Pehrson Dahlsjoe's part of the
mine, and would be very glad to give him any help and instruction in
his power. Elis had to sit down beside this man, who at once began,
over his tankard of Aehl, to describe with much minuteness the sort of
work which Elis would have to commence with.
"Elis remembered the old miner whom he had seen at Goethaborg, and,
strangely enough, found he was able to repeat nearly all that he had
told him.
"'Ay,' cried the Head-Captain. 'Where can you have learned all that?
It's most surprising! There can't be a doubt that you will be the
finest pickman in the mine in a very short time.'
"Ulla--going backwards and forwards amongst the guests and attending to
them--often nodded kindly to Elis, and told him to be sure and enjoy
himself. 'You're not a stranger now, you know,' she said, 'but one of
the household. You have nothing more to do with the treacherous sea the
rich mines of Falun are your home.'
"A heaven of bliss and rapture dawned upon Elis at these words of
Ulla's. It was evident that she liked to be near him; and Pehrson
Dahlsjoe watched his quiet earnestness of character with manifest
approval.
"But Elis's heart beat violently when he stood again by the reeking
hell-mouth, and went down the mine with the Captain, in his miner's
clothes, with the heavy, iron-shod Dalkarl shoes on his feet. Hot
vapours soon threatened to suffocate him; and then, presently, the
candles flickered in the cutting draughts of cold air that blew in the
lower levels. They went down deeper and deeper, on iron ladders at last
scarcely a foot wide; and Elis found that his sailor's adroitness at
climbing was not of the slightest service to him there.
"They got to the lowest depths of the mine at last, and the Captain
showed him what work he was to set about.
"Elis thought of Ulla. Like some bright angel he saw her hovering over
him, and he forgot all the terror of the abyss, and the hardness of the
toilsome labour.
"It was clear in all his thoughts that it was only if he devoted
himself with all the power of his mind, and with all the exertion which
his body would endure, to mining work here with Pehrson Dahlsjoe, that
there was any possibility of his fondest hopes being some day realized.
Wherefore it came about that he was as good at his work as the most
practised hand, in an incredibly short space of time.
"Staunch Pehrson Dahlsjoe got to like this good, industrious lad
better and better every day, and often told him plainly that he
had found in him one whom he regarded as a dear son, as well as a
first-class mine-hand. Also Ulla's regard for him became more and more
unmistakeable. Often, when he was going to his work, and there was any
prospect of danger, she would enjoin him to be sure to take care of
himself, with tears in her eyes. And she would come running to meet him
when he came back, and always had the finest of Aehl, or some other
refreshment, ready for him. His heart danced for joy one day when
Pehrson said to him that as he had brought a good sum of money with
him, there could be no doubt that--with his habits of economy and
industry--he would soon have a 'Hemmans,' or perhaps even a 'Fraelse';
and then not a mineowner in all Falun would say him nay if he asked for
his daughter. Fain would Elis have told him at once how unspeakably he
loved Ulla, and how all his hopes of happiness were based upon her.
But unconquerable shyness, and the doubt whether Ulla really liked
him--though he often thought she did--sealed his lips.
"One day it chanced that Elis was at work in the lowest depths of the
mine, shrouded in thick, sulphurous vapour, so that his candle only
shed a feeble glimmer, and he could scarcely distinguish the run of the
lode. Suddenly he heard--as if coming from some still deeper cutting--a
knocking resounding, as if somebody was at work with a pick-hammer. As
that sort of work was scarcely possible at such a depth, and as he knew
nobody was down there that day but himself--because the Captain had got
all the men employed in another part of the mine--this knocking and
hammering struck him as strange and uncanny. He stopped working, and
listened to the hollow sounds, which seemed to come nearer and nearer.
All at once he saw, close by him, a black shadow and--as a keen draught
of air blew away the sulphur vapour--the old miner whom he had seen in
Goethaborg.
"'Good luck,' he cried, 'good luck to Elis Froebom, down here among the
stones! What think you of the life, comrade?'
"Elis would fain have asked in what wonderful way the old man had got
into the mine; but he kept striking his hammer on the rocks with such
force that the fire-sparks went whirling all round, and the mine rang
as if with distant thunder. Then he cried, in a terrible voice:
"'There's a grand run of trap just here; but a scurvy, ignorant
scoundrel like you sees nothing in it but a narrow streak of 'Trumm'
not worth a beanstalk. Down here you're a sightless mole, and you'll
always be a mere abomination to the Metal Prince. You're of no use up
above either--trying to get hold of the pure Regulus; which you never
will--hey! You want to marry Pehrson Dahlsjoe's daughter; that's what
you've taken to mine work for, not from any love of your own for the
thing. Mind what you're after, double-face; take care that the Metal
Prince, whom you are trying to deceive, doesn't take you and dash you
down so that the sharp rocks tear you limb from limb. And Ulla will
never be your wife; that much I tell you.'
"Elis's anger was kindled at the old man's insulting words.
"'What are you about,' he cried, 'here in my master, Herr Pehrson
Dahlsjoe's shaft, where I am doing my duty, and working as hard at it
as I can? Be off out of this the way you came, or we'll see which of us
two will dash the other's brains out down here.'
"With which he placed himself in a threatening attitude, and swung his
hammer about the old man's ears; who only gave a sneering laugh, and
Elis saw with terror how he swarmed up the narrow ladder rungs like a
squirrel, and disappeared amongst the black labyrinths of the chasms.
"The young man felt paralyzed in all his limbs; he could not go on with
his work, but went up. When the old Head-Captain--who had been busy in
another part of the mine--saw him, he cried:
"'For God's sake, Elis, what has happened to you? You're as pale as
death. I suppose it's the sulphur gas; you're not accustomed to it yet.
Here, take a drink, my lad; that'll do you good.'
"Elis took a good mouthful of brandy out of the flask which the
Head-Captain handed to him; and then, feeling better, told him what had
happened down in the mine, as also how he had made the uncanny old
miner's acquaintance in Goethaborg.
"The Head-Captain listened silently; then dubiously shook his head and
said:
"'That must have been old Torbern that you met with, Elis; and I see,
now, that there really is something in the tales that people tell about
him. More than one hundred years ago, there was a miner here of the
name of Torbern. He seems to have been one of the first to bring mining
into a flourishing condition at Falun here, and in his time the profits
far exceeded anything that we know of now. Nobody at that time knew so
much about mining as Torbern, who had great scientific skill, and
thoroughly understood all the ins and outs of the business. The
richest lodes seemed to disclose themselves to him, as if he had
been endowed with higher powers peculiar to himself; and as he was a
gloomy, meditative man, without wife or child--with no regular home,
indeed--and very seldom came up to the surface, it couldn't fail that a
story soon went about that he was in compact with the mysterious power
which dwells in the bowels of the earth, and fuses the metals.
Disregarding Torbern's solemn warnings--for he always prophesied that
some calamity would happen as soon as the miners' impulse to work
ceased to be sincere love for the marvellous metals and ores--people
went on enlarging the excavations more and more for the sake of mere
profit, till, on St. John's Day of the year 1678, came the terrible
landslip and subsidence which formed our present enormous main-shaft,
laying waste the whole of the works, as they were then, in the process.
It was only after many months' labour that several of the shafts were,
with much difficulty, got into workable order again. Nothing was seen
or heard of Torbern. There seemed to be no doubt that he had been at
work down below at the time of the catastrophe, so that there could be
no question what his fate had been. But not long after, and
particularly when the work was beginning to go on better again, the
miners said they had seen old Torbern in the mine, and that he had
given them valuable advice, and pointed out rich lodes to them. Others
had come across him at the top of the main-shaft, walking round it,
sometimes lamenting, sometimes shouting in wild anger. Other young
fellows have come here in the way you yourself did, saying that an old
miner had advised them to take to mining, and shewn them the way to
Falun. This always happened when there was a scarcity of hands; very
likely it was Torbern's way of helping on the cause. But if it really
was he whom you had those words with in the mine, and if he spoke of a
fine run of trap, there isn't a doubt that there must be a grand vein
of ore thereabouts, and we must see, to-morrow, if we can come across
it. Of course you remember that we call rich veins of the kind
"trap-runs," and that a "Trumm" is a vein which goes sub-dividing into
several smaller ones, and probably gets lost altogether.'
"When Elis, tossed hither and thither by various thoughts, went into
Pehrson Dahlsjoe's, Ulla did not come meeting him as usual. She was
sitting with downcast looks, and--as he thought--eyes which had been
weeping; and beside her was a handsome young fellow, holding her hand,
and trying to say all sorts of kind and amusing things, to which she
seemed to pay little attention. Pehrson Dahlsjoe took Elis--who, seized
by gloomy presentiments, was keeping a darksome glance riveted on the
pair--into another room, and said:
"'Well, Elis, you will soon have it in your power to give me a proof of
your regard and sincerity. I have always looked upon you as a son, but
you will soon take the place of one altogether. The man whom you see in
there is a well-to-do merchant, Eric Olavsen by name, from Goethaborg.
I am giving him my daughter for his wife, at his desire. He will take
her to Goethaborg, and then you will be left alone with me, my only
support in my declining years. Well, you say nothing? You turn pale? I
trust this step doesn't displease you, and that now that I'm going to
lose my daughter you are not going to leave me too? But I hear Olavsen
mentioning my name; I must go in.'
"With which he went back to the room.
"Elis felt a thousand red-hot irons tearing at his heart. He could find
no words, no tears. In wild despair he ran out, out of the house, away
to the great mine-shrift.
"That monstrous chasm had a terrible appearance by day; but now, when
night had fallen, and the moon was just peeping down into it, the
desolate crags looked like a numberless horde of horrible monsters, the
direful brood of hell, rolling and writhing, in wildest confusion, all
about its reeking sides and clefts, and flashing up fiery eyes, and
shooting forth glowing claws to clutch the race of mortals.
"Torbern, Torbern,' Elis cried, in a terrible voice, which made the
rocks re-echo. 'Torbern, I am here; you were not wrong I was a wretched
fool to fix my hopes on any earthly love, up on the surface here. My
treasure, and my life, my all-in-all, are down below. Torbern! take me
down with you! Show me the richest veins, the lodes of ore, the glowing
metal! I will dig and bore, and toil and labour. Never, never more will
I come back to see the light of day. Torbern! Torbern! take me down to
you!'
"He took his flint and steel from his pocket, lighted his candle, and
went quickly down the shaft, into the deep cutting where he had been on
the previous day, without seeing anything of the old man. But what was
his amazement when, at the deepest point, he saw the vein of metal with
the utmost clearness and distinctness, so that he could trace every one
of its ramifications, and its risings and fallings. But as he kept his
gaze fixed more and more firmly on this wonderful vein, a dazzling
light seemed to come shining through the shaft, and the walls of rock
grew transparent as crystal. That mysterious dream which he had had in
Goethaborg came back upon him. He was looking upon those Elysian Fields
of glorious metallic trees and plants, on which, by way of fruits,
buds, and blossoms, hung jewels streaming with fire. He saw the
maidens, and he looked upon the face of the mighty queen. She put out
her arms, drew him to her, and pressed him to her breast, Then a
burning ray darted through his heart, and all his consciousness was
merged in a feeling of floating in waves of some blue, transparent,
glittering mist.
"'Elis Froebom! Elis Froebom!' a powerful voice from above cried out,
and the reflection of torches began shining in the shaft. It was
Pehrson Dahlsjoe come down with the Captain to search for the lad, who
had been seen running in the direction of the main-shaft like a mad
creature.
"They found him standing as if turned to stone, with his face pressed
against the cold, hard rock.
"'What are you doing down here in the night-time, you foolish fellow?'
cried Pehrson. 'Pull yourself together, and come up with us. Who knows
what good news you may hear.'
"Elis went up in profound silence after Dahlsjoe, who did not cease to
rate him soundly for exposing himself to such danger. It was broad
daylight in the morning when they got to the house.
"Ulla threw herself into Elis's arms with a great cry, and called him
by the fondest names, and Pehrson said to him:
"'You foolish fellow! How could I help seeing, long ago, that you were
in love with Ulla, and that it was on her account, in all probability,
that you were working so hard in the mine? Neither could I help seeing
that she was just as fond of you. Could I wish for a better son-in-law
than a fine, hearty, hard-working, honest miner--than just yourself,
Elis? What vexed me was that you never would speak.'
"'We scarcely knew ourselves,' said Ulla, 'how fond we were of each
other.'
"'However that may be,' said Pehrson, 'I was annoyed that Elis didn't
tell me openly and candidly of his love for you, and that was why I
made up the story about Eric Olavsen, which was so nearly being the
death of you, you silly fellow. Not but what I wished to try you, Ulla,
into the bargain. Eric Olavsen has been married for many a day, and I
give my daughter to you, Elis Froebom, for, I say it again, I couldn't
wish for a better son-in-law.'
"Tears of joy and happiness ran down Elis's cheeks. The highest bliss
which his imagination had pictured had come to pass so suddenly and
unexpectedly that he could scarce believe it was anything but another
blissful dream. The workpeople came to dinner, by Dahlsjoe's
invitation, in honour of the event. Ulla had dressed in her prettiest
attire, and looked more charming than ever, so that they all cried,
over and over again, 'Ey! what a sweet and charming creature Elis has
got for a betrothed! May God bless them and make them happy!'
"Yet the terror of the past night still lay upon Elis's pale face, and
he often stared about him as if he were far away from all that was
going on round him. 'Elis, darling, what is the matter?' Ulla asked
anxiously. He pressed her to his heart and said, 'Yes, yes, you are my
own, and all is well.' But in the midst of all his happiness he often
felt as though an icy hand clutched at his heart, and a dismal voice
asked him,
"Is it your highest ideal, then, to be betrothed to Ulla? Wretched
fool! Have you not looked upon the face of the queen?'
"He felt himself overpowered by an indescribable, anxious alarm. He was
haunted and tortured by the thought that one of the workmen would
suddenly assume gigantic proportions, and to his horror he would
recognize in him Torbern, come to remind him, in a terrible manner, of
the subterranean realm of gems and metals to which he had devoted
himself.
"And yet he could see no reason why the spectral old man should be
hostile to him, or what connection there was between his mining work
and his love.
"Pehrson, seeing Elis's disordered condition, attributed it to the
trouble he had gone through, and his nocturnal visit to the mine. Not
so, Ulla, who, seized by a secret presentiment, implored her lover to
tell her what terrible thing had happened to him to tear him away from
her so entirely. This almost broke his heart. It was in vain that he
tried to tell her of the wonderful face which had revealed itself to
him in the depths of the mine. Some unknown power seemed to seal his
lips forcibly; he felt as though the terrible face of the queen were
looking out from his heart, so that if he mentioned her everything
about him would turn to stone, to dark, black rock, as at the sight of
the Medusa's frightful head. All the glory and magnificence which had
filled him with rapture in the abyss appeared to him now as a
pandemonium of immitigable torture, deceptively decked out to allure
him to his ruin.
"Dahlsjoe told him he must stay at home for a few days, so as to shake
off the sickness which he seemed to have fallen into. And during this
time Ulla's affection, which now streamed bright and clear from her
candid, child-like heart, drove away the memory of his fateful
adventure in the mine-depths. Joy and happiness brought him back to
life, and to belief in his good fortune, and in the impossibility of
its being ever interfered with by any evil power.
"When he went down the pit again, everything appeared quite different
to what it used to be. The most glorious veins lay clear and distinct
before his eyes. He worked twice as zealously as before; he forgot
everything else. When he got to the surface again, it cost him an
effort of thought to remember about Pehrson Dahlsjoe, about his Ulla,
even. He felt as if divided into two halves, as if his better self, his
real personality, went down to the central point of the earth, and
there rested in bliss in the queen's arms, whilst _he_ went to his
darksome dwelling in Falun. When Ulla spoke of their love, and the
happiness of their future life together, he would begin to talk of the
splendours of the depths, and the inestimably precious treasures that
lay hidden there, and in so doing would get entangled in such
wonderful, incomprehensible sayings, that alarm and terrible anxiety
took possession of the poor child, who could not divine why Elis should
be so completely altered from his former self. He kept telling the
Captain, and Dahlsjoe himself, with the greatest delight, that he had
discovered the richest veins and the most magnificent trap-runs, and
when these turned out to be nothing but unproductive rock, he would
laugh contemptuously and say that none but he understood the secret
signs, the significant writing, fraught with hidden meaning, which the
queen's own hand had inscribed on the rocks, and that it was sufficient
to understand those signs without bringing to light what they
indicated.
"The old Captain looked sorrowfully at Elis, who spoke, with wild
gleaming eyes, of the glorious paradise which glowed down in the depths
of the earth. 'That terrible old Torbern has been at him,' he whispered
in Dahlsjoe's ear.
"'Pshaw! don't believe these miners' yarns,' cried Dahlsjoe. 'He's a
deep-thinking serious fellow, and love has turned his head, that's
all. Wait till the marriage is over, then we'll hear no more of the
trap-runs, the treasures, and the subterranean paradise.'
"The wedding-day, fixed by Dahlsjoe, came at last. For a few days
previously Elis had been more tranquil, more serious, more sunk in deep
reflection than ever. But, on the other hand, never had he shown such
affection for Ulla as at this time. He could not leave her for a
moment, and never went down the mine at all. He seemed to have
forgotten his restless excitement about mining work, and never a word
of the subterranean kingdom crossed his lips. Ulla was all rapture. Her
fear lest the dangerous powers of the subterranean world, of which she
had heard old miners speak, had been luring him to his destruction, had
left her; and Dahlsjoe, too, said, laughing to the Captain, 'You see,
Elis was only a little light-headed for love of my Ulla.'
"Early on the morning of the wedding-day, which was St. John's Day as
it chanced, Elis knocked at the door of Ulla's room. She opened it, and
started back terrified at the sight of Elis, dressed in his wedding
clothes already, deadly pale, with dark gloomy fire sparkling in his
eyes.
"'I only want to tell you, my beloved Ulla,' he said, in a faint,
trembling voice, 'that we are just arrived at the summit of the highest
good fortune which it is possible for mortals to attain. Everything has
been revealed to me in the night which is just over. Down in the depths
below, hidden in chlorite and mica, lies the cherry-coloured sparkling
almandine, on which the tablet of our lives is graven. I have to give
it to you as a wedding present. It is more splendid than the most
glorious blood-red carbuncle, and when, united in truest affection, we
look into its streaming splendour together, we shall see and understand
the peculiar manner in which our hearts and souls have grown together
into the wonderful branch which shoots from the queen's heart, at the
central point of the globe. All that is necessary is that I go and
bring this stone to the surface, and that I will do now, as fast as I
can. Take care of yourself meanwhile, beloved darling. I will be back
to you directly.'
"Ulla implored him, with bitter tears, to give up all idea of such a
dream-like undertaking, for she felt a strong presentiment of disaster;
but Elis declared that without this stone he should never know a
moment's peace or happiness, and that there was not the slightest
danger of any kind. He pressed her fondly to his heart, and was gone.
"The guests were all assembled to accompany the bridal pair to the
church of Copparberg, where they were to be married, and a crowd of
girls, who were to be the bridesmaids and walk in procession before the
bride (as is the custom of the place), were laughing and playing round
Ulla. The musicians were tuning their instruments to begin a wedding
march. It was almost noon, but Elis had not made his appearance.
Suddenly some miners came running up, horror in their pale faces, with
the news that there had been a terrible catastrophe, a subsidence of
the earth, which had destroyed the whole of Pehrson Dahlsjoe's part of
the mine.
"'Elis! oh, Elis! you are gone!' screamed Ulla, wildly, and fell as if
dead. Then only, for the first time, Dahlsjoe learned from the Captain
that Elis had gone down the main-shaft in the morning. Nobody else had
been in the mine, the rest of the men having been invited to the
wedding. Dahlsjoe and all the others hurried off to search, at the
imminent danger of their own lives. In vain! Elis Froebom was not to be
found. There could be no question that the earth-fall had buried him in
the rock. And thus came desolation and mourning upon the house of brave
Pehrson Dahlsjoe, at the moment when he thought he was assured of peace
and happiness for the remainder of his days.
"Long had stout Pehrson Dahlsjoe been dead, his daughter Ulla long lost
sight of and forgotten. Nobody in Falun remembered them. More than
fifty years had gone by since Froebom's luckless wedding-day, when it
chanced that some miners who were making a connection-passage between
two shafts, found, at a depth of three hundred yards, buried in
vitriolated water, the body of a young miner, which seemed, when they
brought it to the daylight, to be turned to stone.
"The young man looked as if he were lying in a deep sleep, so perfectly
preserved were the features of his lace, so wholly without trace of
decay his new suit of miner's clothes, and even the flowers in his
breast. The people of the neighbourhood all collected round the young
man, but no one recognized him or could say who he had been, and none
of the workmen missed any comrade.
"The body was going to be taken to Falun, when out of the distance an
old, old woman came creeping slowly and painfully up on crutches.
"Here's the old St. John's Day grandmother!' the miners said. They had
given her this name because they had noticed that she came always every
year on St. John's Day up to the main shaft, and looked down into its
depths, weeping, lamenting, and wringing her hands as she crept round
it, then going away again.
"The moment she saw the body she threw away her crutches, lifted her
arms to Heaven, and cried, in the most heartrending accents of the
deepest lamentation:
"'Oh! Elis Froebom! Oh, my sweet, sweet bridegroom!'
"And she cowered down beside the body, took the stony hands and pressed
them to her heart, chilled with age, but throbbing still with the
fondest love, like some naphtha flame under the surface ice.
"'Ah!' she said, looking round at the spectators, 'nobody, nobody among
you all, remembers poor Ulla Dahlsjoe, this poor boy's happy bride
fifty long years ago. When I went away, in my terrible sorrow and
despair, to Ornaes, old Torbern comforted me, and told me I should see
my poor Elis, who was buried in the rock upon our wedding-day, yet once
more here upon earth. And I have come every year and looked for him,
all longing and faithful love. And now this blessed meeting has been
granted me this day. Oh, Elis! Elis! my beloved husband!'
"She wound her arms about him as if she would never part from him more,
and the people all stood round in the deepest emotion.
"Fainter and fainter grew her sobs and sighs, till they ceased to be
audible.
"The miners closed round. They would have raised poor Ulla, but she had
breathed out her life upon her bridegroom's body. The spectators
noticed now that it was beginning to crumble into dust. The appearance
of petrifaction had been deceptive.
"In the church of Copparberg, where they were to have been married
fifty years before, they laid in the earth the ashes of Elis Froebom,
and with them the body of her who had been thus 'Faithful unto death.'"
"I see," said Theodore, when he had finished, and the friends sat
looking straight before them in silence, "that you don't much like this
story of mine. Perhaps, in your present mood of mind, it strikes you as
too painful."
"It does produce a terribly melancholy effect upon one," said Ottmar,
"and, to speak my candid opinion, I cannot say that I care about all
the Swedish 'Fraelse' holders, the national festivities, the spectral
miners, visions, and so forth. The simple account in Schubert's 'Night
Side of Natural Science,' of the finding of a body in the Falun Mine,
which an old woman recognized as her betrothed of fifty years before,
affected me much more deeply."
"I must betake myself for aid to our patron, Serapion," said Theodore;
"for the story of the miner really came to my fancy exactly as I have
told it."
"Everybody has his own way of looking at things," said Lothair, "but
perhaps it is as well that it was to us that you read this tale,
inasmuch as we have all some knowledge of mining matters, of Falun, and
of Swedish manners and customs. Other people might say you had
sometimes been a little unintelligible from the use of too much mining
phraseology; and it isn't everybody who would know that the 'Aehl'
which you mention so often is simply a fine, strong sort of beer."
"Theodore's story has not displeased me so much as it has you, Ottmar,"
said Cyprian. "Writers very often show us people who perish in some
disastrous way as having been at issue with themselves all through
their lives, as if under the control of unknown powers of darkness.
This is what Theodore has done; and I must say I approve of it, because
I think it is exceedingly true to nature. I have known people who have
suddenly seemed to alter and change completely--who have appeared to be
suddenly petrified (so to speak) within themselves, or driven hither
and thither by hostile powers, in constant unrest, till some fearful
catastrophe has withdrawn them from life."
"Stop, stop!" cried Lothair. "If we give this spirit-seer Cyprian a
chance, we shall be drawn into a regular labyrinth of dreams,
presentiments, and all the rest of it. Allow me to dispel the gloomy
tone which has come upon us at one stroke, by reading you--as a finale
to our present sitting--a children's story which I wrote a short time
ago, as I believe, under the direct inspiration of the tricksy spirit
Puck, himself."
"A children's story by you, Lothair!" they all cried.
"Even so," said Lothair. "It may seem to you a piece of insanity that I
should write a children's story; but let me read it to you, and then
give your verdicts."
Lothair took a carefully written MS. from his pocket, and read:--
"NUTCRACKER AND THE KING OF MICE.
"CHRISTMAS EVE.
"On the 24th of December Dr. Stahlbaum's children were not allowed, on
any pretext whatever, at any time of all that day, to go into the small
drawing-room, much less into the best drawing-room into which it
opened. Fritz and Marie were sitting cowered together in a corner of
the back parlour when the evening twilight fell, and they began to feel
terribly eery. Seeing that no candles were brought, as was generally
the case on Christmas Eve, Fritz, whispering in a mysterious fashion,
confided to his young sister (who was just seven) that he had heard
rattlings and rustlings going on all day, since early morning, inside
the forbidden rooms, as well as distant hammerings. Further, that a
short time ago a little dark-looking man had gone slipping and creeping
across the floor with a big box under his arm, though he was well aware
that this little man was no other than Godpapa Drosselmeier. At this
news Marie clapped her little hands for gladness, and cried:
"'Oh! I do wonder what pretty things Godpapa Drosselmeier has been
making for us _this_ time!'
"Godpapa Drosselmeier was anything but a nice-looking man. He was
little and lean, with a great many wrinkles on his face, a big patch of
black plaister where his right eye ought to have been, and not a hair
on his head; which was why he wore a fine white wig, made of glass, and
a very beautiful work of art. But he was a very, very clever man, who
even knew and understood all about clocks and watches, and could make
them himself. So that when one of the beautiful clocks that were in Dr.
Stahlbaum's house was out of sorts, and couldn't sing, Godpapa
Drosselmeier would come, take off his glass periwig and his little
yellow coat, gird himself with a blue apron, and proceed to stick
sharp-pointed instruments into the inside of the clock, in a way that
made little Marie quite miserable to witness. However, this didn't
really hurt the poor clock, which, on the contrary, would come to life
again, and begin to whirr and sing and strike as merrily as ever; which
caused everybody the greatest satisfaction. Of course, whenever he
came he always brought something delightful in his pockets for the
children--perhaps a little man, who would roll his eyes and make bows
and scrapes, most comic to behold; or a box, out of which a little bird
would jump; or something else of the kind. But for Christmas he always
had some specially charming piece of ingenuity provided; something
which had cost him infinite pains and labour--for which reason it was
always taken away and put by with the greatest care by the children's
parents.
"'Oh! what can Godpapa Drosselmeier have been making for us _this_
time.' Marie cried, as we have said.
"Fritz was of opinion that, this time, it could hardly be anything but
a great castle, a fortress, where all sorts of pretty soldiers would be
drilling and marching about; and then, that other soldiers would come
and try to get into the fortress, upon which the soldiers inside would
fire away at them, as pluckily as you please, with cannon, till every
thing banged and thundered like anything.
"'No, no,' Marie said. 'Godpapa Drosselmeier once told me about a
beautiful garden, with a great lake in it, and beautiful swans swimming
about with great gold collars, singing lovely music. And then a lovely
little girl comes down through the garden to the lake, and calls the
swans and feeds them with shortbread and cake.'
"'Swans don't eat cake and shortbread,' Fritz cried, rather rudely
(with masculine superiority); 'and Godpapa Drosselmeier couldn't make a
whole garden. After all, we have got very few of his playthings;
whatever he brings is always taken away from us. So I like the things
papa and mamma give us much better; we keep them, all right, ourselves,
and can do what we like with them.'
"The children went on discussing as to what he might have in store for
them this time. Marie called Fritz's attention to the fact that Miss
Gertrude (her biggest doll) appeared to be failing a good deal as time
went on, inasmuch as she was more clumsy and awkward than ever,
tumbling on to the floor every two or three minutes, a thing which did
not occur without leaving very ugly marks on her face, and of course a
proper condition of her clothes became out of the question altogether.
Scolding was of no use. Mamma too had laughed at her for being so
delighted with Miss Gertrude's little new parasol. Fritz, again,
remarked that a good fox was lacking to his small zoological
collection, and that his army was quite without cavalry, as his papa
was well aware. But the children knew that their elders had got all
sorts of charming things ready for them, as also that the Child-Christ,
at Christmas time, took special care for their wants. Marie sat in
thoughtful silence, but Fritz murmured quietly to himself:
"'All the same, I should like a fox and some hussars!'
"It was now quite dark; Fritz and Marie sitting close together, did not
dare to utter another syllable; they felt as if there were a fluttering
of gentle, invisible wings around them, whilst a very far away, but
unutterably beautiful strain of music could dimly be heard. Then a
bright gleam of light passed quickly athwart the wall, and the children
knew that the Child-Christ had sped away, on shining wings, to other
happy children. At this moment a silvery bell said, 'Kling-ling!
Kling-ling!' the doors flew open, and such a brilliance of light came
streaming from the drawing-room that the children stood rooted where
they were with cries of 'Oh! Oh!'
"But papa and mamma came and took their hands, saying, 'Come now,
darlings, and see what the blessed Child-Christ has brought for you.'
"THE CHRISTMAS PRESENTS.
"I appeal to yourself, kind reader (or listener)--Fritz, Theodore,
Ernest, or whatsoever your name may chance to be--and I would beg you
to bring vividly before your mind's eye your last Christmas table, all
glorious with its various delightful Christmas presents; and then
perhaps you will be able to form some idea of the manner in which the
two children stood speechless with brilliant glances fixed on all the
beautiful things; how, after a little, Marie, with a sigh, cried, 'Oh,
how lovely! how lovely!' and Fritz gave several jumps of delight. The
children had certainly been very, very good and well-behaved all the
foregoing year to be thus rewarded; for never had so many beautiful and
delightful things been provided for them as this time. The great
Christmas tree on the table bore many apples of silver and gold, and
all its branches were heavy with bud and blossom, consisting of sugar
almonds, many-tinted bonbons, and all sorts of charming things to eat.
Perhaps the prettiest thing about this wonder-tree, however, was the
fact that in all the recesses of its spreading branches hundreds of
little tapers glittered like stars, inviting the children to pluck its
flowers and fruit. Also, all round the tree on every side everything
shone and glittered in the loveliest manner. Oh, how many beautiful
things there were! Who, oh who, could describe them all? Marie gazed
there at the most delicious dolls, and all kinds of toys, and (what was
the prettiest thing of all) a little silk dress with many-tinted
ribbons was hung upon a projecting branch in such sort that she could
admire it on all its sides; which she accordingly did, crying out
several times, 'Oh! the lovely, the lovely, darling little dress. And I
suppose, I do believe, I shall really be allowed to put it on!' Fritz,
in the meantime, had had two or three trials how his new fox (which he
had actually found on the table) could gallop; and now stated that he
seemed a wildish sort of brute; but, no matter, he felt sure he would
soon get him well in order; and he set to work to muster his new
squadron of hussars, admirably equipped, in red and gold uniforms, with
real silver swords, and mounted on such shining white horses that you
would have thought they were of pure silver too.
"When the children had sobered down a little, and were beginning upon
the beautiful picture books (which were open, so that you could see all
sorts of most beautiful flowers and people of every hue, to say nothing
of lovely children playing, all as naturally represented as if they
were really alive and could speak), there came another tinkling of a
bell, to announce the display of Godpapa Drosselmeier's Christmas
present, which was on another table, against the wall, concealed by a
curtain. When this curtain was drawn, what did the children behold?
"On a green lawn, bright with flowers, stood a lordly castle with a
great many shining windows and golden towers. A chime of bells was
going on inside it; doors and windows opened, and you saw very small,
but beautiful, ladies and gentlemen, with plumed hats, and long robes
down to their heels, walking up and down in the rooms of it. In the
central hall, which seemed all in a blaze, there were quantities of
little candles burning in silver chandeliers; children, in little short
doublets, were dancing to the chimes of the bells. A gentleman, in an
emerald green mantle, came to a window, made signs thereat, and then
disappeared inside again; also, even Godpapa Drosselmeier himself (but
scarcely taller than papa's thumb) came now and then, and stood at the
castle door, then went in again.
"Fritz had been looking on with the rest at the beautiful castle and
the people walking about and dancing in it, with his arms leant on the
table; then he said:
"'Godpapa Drosselmeier, let me go into your castle for a little.'
"Drosselmeier answered that this could not possibly be done. In which
he was right; for it was silly of Fritz to want to go into a castle
which was not so tall as himself, golden towers and all. And Fritz saw
that this was so.
"After a short time, as the ladies and gentlemen kept on walking about
just in the same fashion, the children dancing, and the emerald man
looking out at the same window, and God papa Drosselmeier coming to the
door Fritz cried impatiently:
"'Godpapa Drosselmeier, please come out at that other door!'
"'That can't be done, dear Fritz,' answered Drosselmeier.
"'Well,' resumed Fritz, 'make that green man that looks out so often
walk about with the others.'
"'And that can't be done, either,' said his godpapa, once more.
"'Make the children come down, then,' said Fritz. 'I want to see them
nearer.'
"'Nonsense, nothing of that sort can be done,' cried Drosselmeier, with
impatience. 'The machinery must work as it's doing now; it can't be
altered, you know.'
"Oh,' said Fritz, 'it can't be done, eh? Very well, then, Godpapa
Drosselmeier, I'll tell you what it is. If your little creatures in the
castle there can only always do the same thing, they're not much worth,
and I think precious little of them! No, give me my hussars. They've
got to man[oe]uvre backwards and forwards just as I want them, and are
not fastened up in a house.'
"With which he made off to the other table, and set his squadron of
silver horse trotting here and there, wheeling and charging and
slashing right and left to his heart's content. Marie had slipped away
softly, too, for she was tired of the promenading and dancing of the
puppets in the castle, though, kind and gentle as she was, she did not
like to show it as her brother did. Drosselmeier, somewhat annoyed,
said to the parents--'After all, an ingenious piece of mechanism like
this is not a matter for children, who don't understand it; I shall put
my castle back in its box again.' But the mother came to the rescue,
and made him show her the clever machinery which moved the figures,
Drosselmeier taking it all to pieces, putting it together again, and
quite recovering his temper in the process. So that he gave the
children all sorts of delightful brown men and women with golden faces,
hands and legs, which were made of ginger cake, and with which they
were greatly content.
"MARIE'S PET AND PROTEGEE.
"But there was a reason wherefore Marie found it against the grain to
come away from the table where the Christmas presents were laid out;
and this was, that she had just noticed a something there which she had
not observed at first. Fritz's hussars having taken ground to the right
at some distance from the tree, in front of which they had previously
been paraded, there became visible a most delicious little man, who was
standing there quiet and unobtrusive, as if waiting patiently till it
should be his turn to be noticed. Objection, considerable objection,
might, perhaps, have been taken to him on the score of his figure, for
his body was rather too tall and stout for his legs, which were short
and slight; moreover, his head was a good deal too large. But much of
this was atoned for by the elegance of his costume, which showed
him to be a person of taste and cultivation. He had on a very pretty
violet hussar's jacket, all over knobs and braiding, pantaloons of
the same, and the loveliest little boots ever seen even on a hussar
officer--fitting his dear little legs just as if they had been painted
on to them. It was funny, certainly, that, dressed in this style as he
was, he had on a little, rather absurd, short cloak on his shoulders,
which looked almost as if it were made of wood, and on his head a cap
like a miner's. But Marie remembered that Godpapa Drosselmeier often
appeared in a terribly ugly morning jacket, and with a frightful
looking cap on his head, and yet was a very very darling godpapa.
"As Marie kept looking at this little man, whom she had quite fallen in
love with at first sight, she saw more and more clearly what a sweet
nature and disposition was legible in his countenance. Those green eyes
of his (which stuck, perhaps, a little more prominently out of his head
than was quite desirable) beamed with kindliness and benevolence. It
was one of his beauties, too, that his chin was set off with a well
kept beard of white cotton, as this drew attention to the sweet smile
which his bright red lips always expressed.
"'Oh, papa, dear!' cried Marie at last, 'whose is that most darling
little man beside the tree?'
"Well,' was the answer, 'that little fellow is going to do plenty of
good service for all of you; he's going to crack nuts for you, and he
is to belong to Louise just as much as to you and Fritz.' With which
papa took him up from the table, and on his lifting the end of his
wooden cloak, the little man opened his mouth wider and wider,
displaying two rows of very white, sharp teeth. Marie, directed by her
father, put a nut into his mouth, and--knack--he had bitten it in two,
so that the shells fell down, and Marie got the kernel. So then it was
explained to all that this charming little man belonged to the
Nutcracker family, and was practising the profession of his ancestors.
'And,' said papa, 'as friend Nutcracker seems to have made such an
impression on you, Marie, he shall be given over to your special care
and charge, though, as I said, Louise and Fritz are to have the same
right to his services as you.'
"Marie took him into her arms at once, and made him crack some more
nuts; but she picked out all the smallest, so that he might not have to
open his mouth so terribly wide, because that was not nice for him.
Then sister Louise came, and he had to crack some nuts for her too,'
which duty he seemed very glad to perform, as he kept on smiling most
courteously.
"Meanwhile, Fritz was a little tired, after so much drill and
man[oe]uvring, so he joined his sisters, and laughed beyond measure at
the funny little fellow, who (as Fritz wanted his share of the nuts)
was passed from hand to hand, and was continually snapping his month
open and shut. Fritz gave him all the biggest and hardest nuts he could
find, but all at once there was a 'crack--crack,' and three teeth fell
out of Nutcracker's mouth, and all his lower jaw was loose and wobbly.
"'Ah! my poor darling Nutcracker,' Marie cried, and took him away from
Fritz.
"'A nice sort of chap he is!' said Fritz. 'Calls himself a nutcracker,
and can't give a decent bite--doesn't seem to know much about his
business. Hand him over here, Marie! I'll keep him biting nuts if he
drops all the rest of his teeth, and his jaw into the bargain. What's
the good of a chap like him!'
"'No, no,' said Marie, in tears; 'you shan't have him, my darling
Nutcracker; see how he's looking at me so mournfully, and showing me
his poor sore mouth. But you're a hard-hearted creature! You beat your
horses, and you've had one of your soldiers shot.'
"'Those things must be done,' said Fritz; 'and you don't understand
anything about such matters. But Nutcracker's as much mine as yours, so
hand him over!'
"Marie began to cry bitterly, and wrapped the wounded Nutcracker
quickly up in her little pocket-handkerchief. Papa and mamma came with
Drosselmeier, who took Fritz's part, to Marie's regret. But papa said,
'I have put Nutcracker in Marie's special charge, and as he seems to
have need just now of her care, she has full power over him, and nobody
else has anything to say in the matter. And I'm surprised that Fritz
should expect further service from a man wounded in the execution of
his duty. As a good soldier, he ought to know better than that.'
"Fritz was much ashamed, and, troubling himself no further as to nuts
or nutcrackers, crept off to the other side of the table, where his
hussars (having established the necessary outposts and videttes) were
bivouacking for the night. Marie got Nutcracker's lost teeth together,
bound a pretty white ribbon, taken from her dress, about his poor chin,
and then wrapped the poor little fellow, who was looking very pale and
frightened, more tenderly and carefully than before in her
handkerchief. Thus she held him, rocking him like a child in her arms,
as she looked at the picture-books. She grew quite angry (which was not
usual with her) with Godpapa Drosselmeier because he laughed so, and
kept asking how she could make such a fuss about an ugly little fellow
like that. That odd and peculiar likeness to Drosselmeier, which had
struck her when she saw Nutcracker at first, occurred to her mind again
now, and she said, with much earnestness:
"'Who knows, godpapa, if you were to be dressed the same as my darling
Nutcracker, and had on the same shining boots--who knows whether you
mightn't look almost as handsome as he does?'
"Marie did not understand why papa and mamma laughed so heartily, nor
why Godpapa Drosselmeier's nose got so red, nor why he did not join so
much in the laughter as before. Probably there was some special reason
for these things.
"WONDERFUL EVENTS.
"We must now explain that, in the sitting-room, on the left-hand as you
go in, there stands, against the wall, a high, glass-fronted cupboard,
where all the children's Christmas presents are yearly put away to be
kept. Louise, the elder sister, was still quite little when her father
had this cupboard constructed by a very skilful workman, who had put in
it such transparent panes of glass, and altogether made the whole
affair so splendid, that the things, when inside it, looked almost more
shining and lovely than when one had them actually in one's hands. In
the upper shelves, which were beyond the reach of Fritz and Marie, were
stowed Godpapa Drosselmeier's works of art; immediately under them was
the shelf for the picture-books. Fritz and Marie were allowed to do
what they liked with the two lower shelves, but it always came about
that the lower one of all was that in which Marie put away her dolls,
as their place of residence, whilst Fritz utilized the shelf above this
as cantonments for his troops of all arms. So that, on the evening as
to which we are speaking, Fritz had quartered his hussars in his--the
upper--shelf of these two, whilst Marie had put Miss Gertrude rather in
a corner, established her new doll in the well-appointed chamber there,
with all its appropriate furniture, and invited herself to tea and
cakes with her. This chamber was splendidly furnished, everything on a
first-rate scale, and in good and admirable style, as I have already
said--and I don't know if you, my observant reader, have the
satisfaction of possessing an equally well-appointed room for your
dolls; a little beautifully-flowered sofa, a number of the most
charming little chairs, a nice little tea-table, and, above all, a
beautiful little white bed, where your pretty darlings of dolls go to
sleep? All this was in a corner of the shelf, the walls of which, in
this part, had beautiful little pictures hanging on them; and you may
well imagine that, in such a delightful chamber as this, the new doll
(whose name, as Marie had discovered, was Miss Clara) thought herself
extremely comfortably settled, and remarkably well off.