“See now, Fünen signifieth _fine_,
And much in that word lies;
For Fünen is the garden fine,
Where Denmark glads its eyes.”
The nakedness which the last aspect of Zealand presents occasions one
to be doubly struck by the affluent abundance and luxuriance with which
Funen steps forth. Green woods, rich corn-fields, and, wherever the eye
rests, noblemen’s seats and churches. Nyborg itself appears a lively
capital in comparison with the still melancholy Korsöer. One now
perceives people upon the great bridge of boats, on the ramparts, and
in the broad streets with their high houses; one sees soldiers, hears
music, and, what is especially animating upon a journey, one comes to
an excellent inn. The drive out through the arched gateway is an
astonishment; it is the same length and breadth as one of the gates of
Copenhagen. Villages and peasants’ houses here assume a more well-to-do
aspect than in Zealand, where one often on the way-side imagines one
sees a manure-heap heaped upon four poles, which upon nearer examination
one finds is the abode of a family. On the highroads in Funen one
perceives only clean houses; the window-frames are painted; before the
doors are little flower-gardens, and wherever flowers are grown,
as Bulwer strikingly remarks, the peasant is in a higher state of
civilization; he thinks of the beautiful. In the ditches along the
highway one sees lilac with their white and lilac flowers. Nature
herself has here adorned the country with a multitude of wild poppies,
which for splendor of color might vie with the most admired and
beautiful in a botanic garden. Especially in the neighborhood of Nyborg
do they grow in exceeding abundance.
“What a dazzling color!” exclaimed Otto, as the friends rolled past
these beautiful red flowers.
“That is a proud color!” said the Kammerjunker, who rode near them upon
his brown steed, “a proud color! but they are manured with the blood
of Andalusian horses. It was just here where the battle between these
beasts took place. You know that sit the year 1808 the Spaniards lay
in Funen; the English ships were cruising about in the Belt, and Romana
fled with his whole army on board, but they could net take their horses
with them. These were the most splendid Andalusian creatures that eyes
ever saw. The Spaniards took off their bridles, and left them here to
scamper about the fields like wild horses. The horses of Nyborg chanced
also to graze here, and as soon as the Andalusian steeds became aware of
ours they arranged themselves in a row, and fell upon the Danish horses:
that was a combat! At length they fell upon each other, and fought until
they fell bleeding to earth. Whilst still a boy I saw little skull of
one of these beasts. This is the last adventure left us from the visit
of the Spaniards to Denmark. In the village through which we shall
now pass are some outer remembrances. Remark the young lads and
lasses,--they are of a darker complexion than the inhabitants of other
Funen valleys; that is Spanish blood, it is said. It was in this village
that the story took its rise of the preacher’s servant-girl, who wept
and was so inconsolable at the departure of the Spaniards. But not on
account of her bridegroom did she weep,--not over her own condition. The
preacher consoled her, and then she said she only wept to think that
if the innocent child resembled its father it certainly would speak
Spanish, and then not a soul would understand it! Yes, such histories as
this have we in Funen!” said he laughingly to Otto.
With similar relations, and some agricultural observations, according as
they were called forth by surrounding objects, did our excellent landed
proprietor amuse our young gentlemen. They were already distant several
miles from Nyborg, when he suddenly broke off in the midst of a very
interesting discourse upon a characteristic of a true inhabitant of
Funen, which is, that whenever he passes a field of buckwheat he moves
his mouth as if chewing, and made Wilhelm observe a Viennese carriage,
which approached them by a neighboring road. To judge from the coachman
and the horses, it must be the family from the hall.
This was the case--they returned from paying a visit. Where the roads
crossed they met each other. Otto immediately recognized Miss Sophie,
and near to her sat an elderly lady, with a gentle, good-humored
countenance; this was the mother. Now there was surprise and joy. Sophie
blushed--this blush could not have reference to the brother; was it
then the Kammerjunker? No: that appeared impossible! therefore, it must
concern Otto. The mother extended her hand to him with a welcome, whilst
at the same time she invited the Kammerjunker to spend the afternoon
with them. There lay, in the manner with which she proposed this, so
much attention and consideration, that Otto felt the man was here held
in greater esteem, and was otherwise regarded than he, during their
short acquaintance, had imagined possible.
Sophie added, smiling, “You must stay!” To which the Kammerjunker
replied with an apology for his travelling-dress.
“We are not strangers!” said the mother; “it is only a family meal!
You see the usual circle. You, Mr. Thostrup,” added she, with a most
obliging manner, “I know so well from Wilhelm’s letters, that we are no
strangers. The gentlemen are acquainted with each other!”
“I accept the invitation,” said the Kammerjunker, “and I will now
show you into what a gallop I can put my steed! It is Carl Rise,
[Translator’s Note: Name of one of the heroes in Waldemar the Conqueror,
a romance by Ingemann.] as you see, young lady--you called him so
yourself!”
“Yes, ride forward,” said Sophie, smiling. “By that means you will
oblige my sister. She might otherwise be quite frightened, did she
see such a mighty caravan approach the house, did she had not properly
prepared the dinner-table.”
“As my gracious young lady commands!” said the rider, and sprang
forward.
The country became more woody; the road passed various small lakes,
almost overgrown with water-lilies and shaded by old trees; the
old-fashioned, indented gable-ends of the hall now peeped forth. They
drove through an avenue of wild chestnut-trees; the stone pavement here
threatened to smash the carriage axles. On the right lay the forge,
through the open door of which flew the sparks. A little girl, with bare
feet, opened a gate, and they now found themselves in a large open space
before the red-painted out-buildings. The ground was covered with straw,
and all the cows of the farm were collected here for milking. Here they
were obliged to drive, step by step, until by the gateway they reached
the larger courtyard, which was inclosed by the barns and the principal
building itself. This was surrounded by broad ditches, almost grown over
with reeds. Over a solid bridge, resting upon pillars of masonry, and
through a principal wing which bore the armorial bearings and initials
of the old possessor, they arrived in the innermost court, which was
shut in by three wings, the antique one already mentioned, and two
others: the fourth side was inclosed by a low trellis-work which
adjoined the garden, where the canals lost themselves in a small lake.
“That is an interesting old court!” exclaimed Otto.
“O, that is not to be compared with the Kammerjunker’s!” returned
Wilhelm: “you should first see his!”
“Yes, you must come over some of these days,” said the Kammerjunker.
“Silence, Fingal! Silence, Valdine!” cried he to the barking dogs. A
couple of turkey-cocks spread their feathers out, and gobbled with all
their might. Men and women servants stood at the door: that was their
reception!
“Thostrup will have the red room, will he not?” said Wilhelm, and the
friends ascended the stairs together.
A pale young girl, not free from freckles, but with eyes full of soul,
hastened toward them; this was Wilhelm’s youngest sister. She pressed
her brother to her breast, and took Otto’s hand with kindness. She is
not beautiful! was the first impression she made upon him. His chamber
was vaulted, and the walls painted in the style of Gobelin tapestry;
they represented the whole of Olympus. On the left was an old
fire-place, with decorations and a gilt inscription; on the right
stood an antiquated canopy-bed, with red damask hangings. The view was
confined to the moat and the interior court. But a few minutes and Otto
and Wilhelm were summoned to table. A long gallery through two wings of
the hall, on one side windows, on the other entrances to the rooms,
led to the dining-room. The whole long passage was a picture-gallery.
Portraits the size of life, representing noble knights and ladies
shining forth in red powdered periwigs, children adorned like their
elders, with tulips in their hands, and great hounds by their sides,
together with some historical pieces, decorated the walls.
“Have we no garland on the table?” asked Sophie, as she entered the
dining-room with the others.
“Only a weak attempt to imitate my sister!” said Louise, smiling.
“But there is not a single flower in the garland! What economy! And yet
it is sweet!”
“How tasteful!” exclaimed Otto, examining the garland which Louise had
laid.
All kinds of green leaves, with their innumerable shades, a few yellow
linden-leaves, and some from the copper-beech, formed, through their
varied forms and colors, a tasteful garland upon the white table-cloth.
“You receive a thistle and a withered leaf!” whispered Wilhelm, as Otto
seated himself.
“But yet the most beautiful!” answered he. “The copper beech contrasts
so sweetly with the whitish-green thistle and the yellow leaf.”
“My sister Sophie,” said Louise, “lays us each day a different
garland;--it is such a pretty decoration! If she is not here we get
none; that would have been the case to-day, but when I learned that
Wilhelm was coming, and that we,” she added, with a friendly glance,
“should have two other guests, I in great haste, made an attempt, and”--
“And wished to show how nicely it could be made without robbing your
flowers!” interrupted Sophie, laughing. “In reality, I am very cruel! I
cut all the heads of her favorites off. To-morrow, as a parody upon her
garland of to-day, will I make one of green cabbage and pea-shells!”
“Madeira or port wine?” asked the Kammerjunker, and led the conversation
from flowers to articles of food and drink.
“One feels one’s self comfortable here at the hall! Miss Louise cares
for the body, and Miss Sophie for the soul!”
“And mamma bestows a good cup of coffee,” said the mother; “you must
also praise me a little!”
“I give music after dinner!” cried Wilhelm; “and thus the whole family
will have shown their activity!”
“But no voluntaries!” said the Kammerjunker; “no voluntaries, dear
friend! No, a brisk song, so that one can hear what it is! but none
of your artificial things!” A right proper blow on the shoulders was
intended to soften his expression.