A GAY WEDDING,--AND A HARD NUT TO CRACK.
Lenz of the Morgenhalde is going to be married to Annele of the "Golden
Lion!" This report quickly spread through the whole valley, and far
beyond it, and often in the same house first Annele was discussed and
then Lenz, for their names were not yet coupled together till after the
wedding, when Annele of the "Golden Lion" will be called Lenz Annele.
There had been deep snow, and now the sky had cleared up, bringing
genuine bright sledging weather, and from every hill and valley bells
and cracking of whips resounded, and a hundred sledges at least were
standing before the door of the "Golden Lion" on the wedding morning;
every stall had its share of strange company, and many a solitary cow
could not comprehend how it came to pass, that a pair of such handsome
horses should suddenly come to pay her a visit. To be sure a cow
passing the winter in retirement, is not likely to know what is going
on in the world, but men know all about it; an event is about to take
place of no small importance in the village, and even bedridden old
women never rest till they are dressed, and able to sit at the window,
though they live far from the highroad, so that they can see nothing,
and can only catch distant sounds of the bells on the horses' necks,
and the cracking of whips.
Ernestine, the grocer's wife, had been helping for several days before
the wedding in the "Lion." She would not show any symptoms of
displeasure at not being particularly visited or invited; the head of
the family was celebrating a feast, and all its branches must rally
round their chief.
Ernestine had left her children in a neighbour's house; her husband in
the mean time was to keep house, attend to the shop, and dress his
food, as best he could: when the "Golden Lion" sends forth a summons no
one can stand on their rights.
Ernestine knew every nook and corner of the house, and gave everyone
what they wanted in a moment; she had unlimited authority both in
kitchen and cellar, and exulted in her own importance. On the wedding
morning Annele dressed herself, for she had no particular friend to
assist her.
Lenz would have preferred, from his retiring disposition, to have had a
very quiet wedding; but Annele was right in saying:--"I am quite aware
of what you would have preferred; but it is our duty to our neighbours
to provide some pleasure for them also, and we have only one wedding
day in our lives. Year after year we have plague enough from these
people, let us give them an opportunity of showing their gratitude to
us. There are very few weddings during the year in the whole country
that we do not attend, and take gifts with us. Two thousand gulden
would not cover what we have laid out on such occasions. It is but fair
that the neighbours should give in their turn. I don't want to gain by
my wedding; I shall be quite satisfied if we get back the half of what
we sent in this way."
And in truth the marriage gifts were very valuable, both in money and
in money's worth. They were not satisfied with one day, but the
marriage feast continued during two whole days; one day for friends and
relations, and the other for strangers.
On the wedding morning Pilgrim arrived with his hair well oiled, and a
bunch of rosemary tied with a ribbon in the button hole of his coat,
and he said:--"I bring you no wedding present."
"You have already given me enough: the portrait of my mother."
"Oh! that does not count; I know very well what I ought to do, but I
cannot. No, Lenz. I have given myself something, however, on the
occasion of your marriage. See here! with this paper I am like
Siegfried, whom you and I have read of: I have now a skin of callous
horn, which nothing can pierce."
"What is it?"
"It is a bond which secures to me a hundred gulden annually, from the
age of sixty; and till then I shall manage to get through; and then,
when I can no longer live alone, you must give me an attic in your
house, and a warm corner behind your stove, where I can play with your
grandchildren, and make drawings for them, which they are sure to
be pleased with. It cost me a good deal to make the first payment, and
no wonder, for though I can gain my livelihood, I have nothing to
spare. So I hit upon a good plan: for a whole year I gave up my
breakfast,--the Landlord of the 'Lion,' I think, suspected that my
dinner and breakfast were combined,--and in this way I contrived
to get the money. I intend to give up my dinner presently. It would be
a very good idea, in this way by degrees to close gently all the
shutters,--and then, good night, world!"
While talking thus, he was assisting Lenz to dress in an entirely new
suit of clothes. Lenz thanked his friend for telling him his scheme,
and reminded him that all the members of the annuity society formed one
family, with the sole exception of not wishing each other joy on their
birthday, and that not from any negligence or ill will, but merely
because they were not acquainted with each other.
Pilgrim had in his head all the statistics of the Annuity Society, and
he began detailing them, to prevent Lenz giving way to emotion.
When Lenz was dressed in his bridal attire, Petrowitsch came of his own
accord to act as best man. He said, with a mysterious face--"You will
get no marriage present from me, Lenz; you know why; but it shall be
made up to you some day." With this bait, and hint that Lenz was to be
his chief heir,--which, however, he never said plainly--Petrowitsch
became, of course, the most highly considered person at the marriage
festivities. This was just what he liked; to sit in the place of
honour, with all the others flocking round him, and yet to have the
agreeable consciousness, "I have the keys of my house in my pocket, and
my fireproof money-box safe at home." This was quite characteristic of
the man. Two such festive days were a grand break, in the midst of the
monotony of the winter season.
The Landlord of the "Lion" carried his apostolic head even higher than
usual on this occasion, and stroked with dignity his newly shaved chin.
Music, and firing, and shouting, resounded in the bright wintry
morning, as the wedding party were going to church, which could not
contain all the curious and sympathizing crowd. There was, besides, as
great a collection of people round the church door, as within the
sacred building. The Pastor gave an appropriate exhortation, not
resembling a public store of uniforms for recruits, supposed to fit all
chance comers, but made to measure. He spoke most impressively on
family respectability, and on the honour of the husband and the wife
being identical. Children inherit the good name of their parents, but
when they turn out badly, the parents are free from blame in the sight
of God and man,--they did their best, they could do no more. The
children of disreputable parents may attain respectability by their own
efforts,--they have their life before them. The brother shares the
honour of his brother, but he can leave him, and pursue his own path.
But the honour of married people is different: here they are, in the
purest sense of the word, one flesh; here harmony is a mutual object.
When the one aspires to honour at the cost of the other, nothing can
ensue but discord, disunion, and death. It is a holy and wise ordinance
that the woman, though she preserves her baptismal name, receives a new
family name from her husband. She adopts the man's name, and the man's
honour. The Pastor commended the good qualities of the couple now
standing before the altar, though Lenz came in for the largest share of
praise; but Annele too had a fair portion; and he reminded them that no
man living had any cause to be proud of his good qualities; that the
slow and the quick should mutually esteem and regard each other; that
marriage was not only according to the law of the land--a mere
community of temporal goods,--but still more according to the law of
God--a community of spiritual good, where _mine_ and _thine_ cease, and
where every possession is called _ours_, and not only _ours_, but as
belonging to the world at large, and, above all, to God.
Under cover of generalities, and yet easily applicable to the young
couple, the Pastor gave utterance to the anxious wish of their mutual
friends, that two persons so unlike in disposition, and in worldly
occupations, might live henceforth in peaceful and happy union
together.
Pilgrim, who was sitting with the singers in the gallery, nodded to the
leader of the choir, who nodded back significantly. Faller did not once
look up; he pressed his hand to his eyes, and thought, "It was thus I
spoke myself to Annele; who knows what she would say to our Pastor, if
she dared speak! But I pray thee, good Lord! who once performed so many
miracles on this earth, do this one more,--implant good thoughts in her
heart, and place good words on her lips, for my excellent Lenz, the
most admirable--"
No voice sounded louder than that of Faller when he joined in the hymn,
after the ceremony was over. The leader of the choir made him a sign to
moderate his deep bass voice, for the tenor was very weak, and Lenz's
voice was wanting; but Faller utterly refused to suppress his tones,
which fairly overpowered both the organ and his fellow-singers, in the
hymn, "Oh Lord, bless this bond!"
When the wedding was over, the women who were so fortunate as to see
and hear the ceremony, had plenty to talk about when they left the
church. Never before had the bridegroom been heard sobbing audibly; no
man had ever done such a thing till now. To be sure, the Pastor had
spoken in a most touching way, especially when he had alluded to Lenz's
mother, and implored her blessing, which had caused Lenz to sob so
violently that they really thought he must have fallen down, and all
present had cried along with him; indeed, those who were talking of it
had cried too; they had come to attend the marriage, and had a right to
have a share of all that was going, whether it was crying or rejoicing.
The men said to the strangers present--"No other village can have a
more admirable Pastor than ours! His words come out so smoothly and
glibly, and not stiff or precise; just as if he wished to discuss the
matter quietly with us all. Oh, yes! our Pastor! few like him!"
Neither men nor women made any allusion, however, to the matter of the
exhortation.
When Lenz left the church, escorted on one side by Petrowitsch, and on
the other by the Landlord, Faller's mother came up to him, and said, "I
have done what I intended--your mother's clothes have been in the
church, and she could not have prayed from her heart for you more
earnestly than I did."
Lenz could not answer, for the Landlord reproved the old woman for
being the first to speak to the bridegroom,--although he condemned the
foolish superstition, that saw an evil omen in being addressed by an
old woman first; but, however, he called forward a handsome young lad
to give Lenz his hand first.
From this moment, however, all was gaiety and merriment. It was not
easy to believe that any one present had shed a single tear.
Lenz now shook hands with his sisters-in-law, and then with their
husbands, in the back parlour. The Doctor, too, and his daughters
came,--and very kind it was in them to come,--one after another came in
and went out, wishing the young couple joy; while Annele sat in a
chair, with a white handkerchief pressed to her eyes; and Lenz said, "I
could not help crying so much, but you know for all that how happy I
am; and we will remember to keep our honour one and the same, and, with
the help of God, we shall preserve it entire. And when I see what a
family you connect me with, I can never forget it. And, please God!
these shall be the last tears we ever shed together. Take off your
gloves, dear Annele, I have none."
Annele shook her head, but said nothing.
Dinner! dinner! dinner! was called out three times, and certainly
people seemed to eat threefold. There was only one person who
complained, "I can't eat, I cant swallow a single mouthful; it is a sad
pity when there are so many good things before me; but I can't!" and
this was Franzl.
Even before every one had dined, dancing had begun in the room above,
and the bride and bridegroom went backwards and forwards from the
dancing room to the dinner table.
"It is too bad in the Techniker to come to my wedding," said Annele to
Lenz, on the stairs. "No one invited him; pray don't speak to him."
"Oh, never mind him! I wish to see no one dissatisfied to-day," said
Lenz, kindly. "I am only vexed that Faller is not here. I sent a
messenger to him, but I see he is not come."
Pilgrim danced the first dance with Annele, who said to him, "You are a
first-rate dancer."
"But not a first-rate painter, you think?"
"I never said so."
"At all events, you won't be painted by me; and yet I had rather a
fancy to-day to take your portrait. Besides, I don't think you would be
easy to take: you are pretty so long as you are talking, but when you
are silent there is something in your face I don't like. I can't say
what it is."
"If you could only paint as well as you can chatter!"
"Well! well! you shall never be painted by me!
"I have no wish to go down to posterity painted by you," said Annele,
who soon recovered her good humour.
The bridal pair were summoned to the lower room, where the most
respectable of the connexions had assembled round Petrowitsch. They
wished him to declare distinctly what sum he intended to bequeath to
Lenz. Don Bastian, Pilgrim's cunning landlord, was the principal
speaker. He had a good opportunity of larding his shabby wedding gift
with another man's bacon, and he drove Petrowitsch into such a corner,
that he could scarcely slip through his fingers. The blacksmith, who
valued himself on being Lenz's only neighbour,--he lived about a mile
from him, but his house was the only one to be seen from the
Morgenhalde,--had been a schoolfellow of Petrowitsch, and knew how to
put him into good humour, by recalling old times.
The Landlady thought that the presence of the young couple might do
good, so she had sent for them. When they joined the circle,
Petrowitsch, who was by this time at his wit's end, said--"Here is
Lenz; he knows what my intentions are. In our family we don't send the
public crier about to announce our affairs. You know, Lenz, how we
stand, don't you?"
"Certainly, uncle," said Lenz.
"Now, I am not going to say one word more on the subject!" cried
Petrowitsch, impatiently starting up. He was in mortal fear lest any
one, his old schoolfellow the blacksmith especially, should discover
that this was his sixty-fifth birthday, in which case he would no doubt
have been congratulated on all sides, and been obliged to pay for their
good wishes by making some settlement on his nephew. He pushed his way
through the circle out of the room. Bueble, who followed closely at his
heels, howled loudly, having received a hearty kick from some invisible
foot.
Lenz looked after his retreating uncle, rather disconcerted, for he
felt he had not perhaps acted very prudently in helping him out of his
dilemma. Petrowitsch might possibly have been induced to say something
decided, and now all hope of such a thing was at an end.
But Lenz soon dismissed all such thoughts from his mind, and was as gay
as possible the whole evening. Those relations who lived at a distance
had already gone away. It was now time for Lenz and Annele to go home,
as it is customary for a bridal pair to arrive in their own house
before midnight; and Lenz said, "Annele, you were quite right; how
vexed I am now that there is no carriage road to our home. Be sure you
wrap yourself well up."
"You will see many a time yet that I am right in most things," said
Annele.
Pilgrim had arranged the procession very artistically. The musicians
went in front, and two torchbearers behind the young couple; and a
number of children brought up the rear, carrying the handsomest of the
wedding presents,--china, glass, trays and goblets,--and burning pine
torches. When they began to ascend the hill the procession became less
orderly, for they were obliged to go one by one. Lenz said to Annele,
"Go on in front; I like you to take precedence in everything."
At last they reached Lenz's house at the top of the hill. The bridal
gifts were delivered up, the musicians played a merry dance, and three
loud shouts were given in honour of the happy pair. Then the music was
heard dying away down the hill into the valley.
"We are in heaven, and know that men on earth below are rejoicing over
us," said Lenz.
"I had no idea that you could talk in this way," said Annele. "How
hushed and quiet it seems here all at once!"
"Wait a minute; I can welcome you with melody, and, Heaven be praised I
it is for you and me alone." He wound up a large musical clock, and it
played Beethoven's "Calm of the ocean!" It continued to play for long
and long, and all was still in the house.