THE GOVERNOR OF HENFERESTER
Ten leagues north of Vienna is the vast manor of Henferester--an old
pile blackened by time, its walls covered with ivy, its roof with moss;
it seemed deserted and abandoned. The main structure, and a great tower
which faced the east, were almost in ruins. The only habitable part of
the chateau was the western tower; through some hedges of box, pushing
in every direction over the esplanade, which, surrounded by lime-trees,
extended before the door of the castle, could be seen traces of an
ancient parterre overgrown with brambles and parasitic plants.
Autumn was drawing towards its close; the foliage of the great clumps of
trees which fringed the horizon had begun to put on their rich purple
tints. The sky was gray and rainy; the air damp and cold; night
approached. The high and narrow window which gave light to the basement
of the tower was suddenly illuminated; the stained glass windows,
although somewhat blackened by smoke, shone brilliantly, and the
coat-of-arms of the lords of Henferester glittered in the darkness
steadily deepening.
The lower floor of the tower formed one immense circular room; it was at
once the dining-hall and the kitchen of the Governor of Henferester; the
upper stories contained many dilapidated chambers, which were reached by
a rough and narrow spiral stone staircase, the ascent of which was aided
by a rope attached to the damp wall by rings of rusty iron.
A great fire was burning in the immense kitchen chimney; a copper lamp
with three branches suspended from the smoky rafters of the ceiling,
lighted the place; on the walls, whose plaster was in patches, were hung
deer-horns, which supported guns and hunting-knives, wild boars' tusks
and hoofs, and several wolves' heads, stuffed.
The floor, trodden hard like the threshing-floor of a barn, was strewn
with hatchelled straw, by way of a carpet. In one corner an enormous
hogshead of beer, between two beams, was on tap. Above it were two
barrels of different sizes. One contained Rhine wine, the other, which
was smaller, the kirchenwasser of the Black Forest. On either side of
the barrels were ranged pewter mugs of various sizes. Near by were two
great firkins set against the wall, one full of salted bacon, the other
of sauer-kraut pickled in vinegar. An iron fork and spoon hanging over
these two firkins, formed, so to speak, pendants to the pewter mugs
ranged above the barrels.
Lastly, a kneading-trough, containing a dozen loaves of bread as big as
mill-wheels, completed the list of culinary furniture.
Except a quarter of venison, which was roasting before an enormous fire
in the chimney, and a great pot in which the bacon and sauer-kraut were
boiling, there was nothing in the room to indicate that it was a
kitchen. There were visible neither cooking-stoves, nor moulds, nor
saucepans of various forms, so dear to _gourmands._
As for utensils, there was only one gridiron hanging before the mouth of
the oven, which was wide open, under the mantle-piece, and a great
turnspit operated by a dog.
A quarter of venison, like that before the fire, was hanging, all
bloody, on an iron hook near the door.
Thanks to the combined odors of the venison, the bacon, the sauer-kraut,
the beer, the wine, and the kirchenwasser, the atmosphere of the room
was so thick, or perhaps we may say, so nourishing, that a very little
of it would have satisfied a delicate stomach.
Without, the rain, mingled with hail, fell violently, pelting the
windows.
Two white-haired old Germans, clothed in loose gray coats, fastened at
the waist by belts of buffalo hide, were preparing the repast of the
lord of Henferester, who had been out hunting since the morning, and had
not yet returned.
These preparations were simple. The domestics drew towards the
fireplace a long and massive oak table; at the upper end they placed
the master's oaken seat, coarsely sculptured with his coat-of-arms, the
back carried up to form a canopy, and to which no cushion gave ease.
Before this seat they placed a plate, or rather a great dish of silver,
a piece of bread weighing about two pounds, and three tankards, also of
silver, which served at once as glasses and bottles. The first, destined
for beer, held two pints; the second, for wine, one pint, the third, for
kirchenwasser, half a pint.
These tankards were generally filled a second time during the meal.
Table-cloths, napkins, and covers were things merely remembered, and
were deemed ridiculous superfluities. Hunters of that day always carried
two knives in their belts; one straight and long, for stabbing the
beast; the other, thick, curved, and a little larger than an ordinary
table-knife, was used for cutting him up. This last they invariably
employed for carving their meat at table.
The servants then laid pewter plates and pieces of bread at each side of
the table. These inferior places were reserved for the servitors of the
baron, according to their rank.
The lord of Henferester, faithful to old and patriarchal traditions, ate
with his domestics. On his right was the place of Erhard Trusches, his
huntsman; on the left that of Selbitz, his major-domo.
This last-named personage, having set the sauer-kraut to boil, and the
venison to roast, aided Link, an old groom, in preparing the table.
As to women, they were never seen in the castle. Every Saturday, old
Wilhelmina, the minister's housekeeper, came to make and bake the bread
for the week, while the baron was at the council at Vienna. Wednesday,
the other council day, she put in order the linen of the castle, always
in the absence of the governor, who regarded the fair sex with profound
dislike.
"The master is late to-night," said the major-domo, sadly looking at the
quarter of venison, which was beginning to dry up.
"The night is dark, the rain is falling heavily, Master Selbitz . . .
perhaps the chase will have carried the governor into the forest of
Harterassen. . . . Master Erhard Trusches sent word this morning by Karl,
the dog-keeper, that the baron was to hunt a wild boar; . . . and wild
boars always start in the woods of Ferstenfak, gain the plain of Marais,
return to their lair in the forest of Harterassen, and then are captured
at the pond of the priory. All that would make a run of at least eight
leagues, and as many to return, Master Selbitz." . . .
"And what with the night and the rain, and the bad roads of the forest,
that is a long way. . . . But listen, Link," . . . said the major-domo,
putting his hand to his ear; "is not that the sound of the governor's
trumpet?"
"No, Master Selbitz, it is the wind blowing the weathercock." . . .
"What time is it?" asked the major-domo; for clocks were almost as
unknown in the castle as at Otaheite.
"It must be between six and seven, Master Selbitz, for Elphin, the
governor's roan horse, has been calling for his grain for some
time. . . . Hark! listen! do you hear him? Patience, patience, old
Elphin!" said the groom, coming back from the door. . . . "When your
companions, Kol and Lipper, get back, you will have your supper, but
not before, you old glutton!"
"This time it surely is the governor's trumpet," cried the
major-domo. . . . "God be praised! What weather! Come! run and hold
the master's stirrup. Link, while I go and throw some pine cones on the
fire, to make a blaze."
"That is certainly the governor's trumpet," said Link, after listening
attentively, . . . "but he does not sound a joyful flourish, or the
retreat. . . . Ah, Master Selbitz, bad luck, bad luck!"
"The better reason for not keeping him waiting,--go--hurry!"
The groom ran out. . . . Selbitz, having brightened the fire, put on his
lord's silver plate a letter with a great red seal, which an express had
brought from Vienna during the day.
At this moment they heard the loud snapping of a whip, and a stentorian
and harsh voice, crying: "Go to the black devil! you cursed dogs!
Erhard, see if the piebald horse eats well; for the day has been a hard
one!"
Then they heard the clatter of great iron-heeled and spurred boots; the
door opened, and the lord of Henferester entered in the midst of a dozen
dogs, covered with mud and streaming with rain, who rushed into the
kitchen, and crowded before the fire to dry themselves.
The baron allowed them this privilege as much for love of the canine
race, as for his own interest, knowing that dogs who go into their
kennels shivering and cold, often fall sick.
The lord of Henferester, a man of enormous size, and from forty-five to
fifty years old, seemed to possess herculean strength. On entering, he
threw his old felt hat into the kneading-trough. His bright red hair was
cut short; his russet beard, which he shaved only on council days, was
so thick that it covered nearly all his face. His features, strongly
marked, and tanned by exposure to the open air, were hard, yet not
devoid of a certain nobility.
His old green jacket was soaked with rain, and buttoned up to his chin.
His deer-skin breeches were black with age, and his great thick boots,
covered with mud, reached more than half-way up his thighs; a leather
belt held his hunting-knives, with horn handles. He carried across his
breast a great trumpet of tarnished copper, and held in his large, hairy
hand, a whip and a carbine.
Having given this weapon and the trumpet to his major-domo, who hung
them upon the wall, the master approached the fire with a discontented
air, distributed several rude kicks among his dogs, to make them move
out of his way, and threw himself heavily in his chair, saying to his
hounds, sharply:
"Get out, you lazy, clumsy wretches! you are much more worthy to turn
the spit than to follow the chase of a noble animal. . . . To give out
after a five-hours' run, and all because the haunt of the wild boar is
too brambly! You have, it seems, become very delicate! Hum! and even
you, old Ralph!" he added, with a furious look, aiming a kick at the dog
thus addressed.
The major-domo, seeing the humor of his master, tried to calm him by
recalling his more successful sport.
"I can understand that my lord may be displeased when he has had bad
luck, for he is not used to it; but--"
"Well, well," said the baron, in a harsh tone, "take the venison from
the spit, and give me my supper, for I am as hungry as the devil. This
boar led us through the forest of Harterassen; then the dogs gave out
before a hedge so thick that one should have the hide of a wild boar
itself to penetrate it." . . .
"My lord sees, then, that it is not altogether the fault of his brave
dogs. But my lord is wet through; if he would but change his
clothes." . . .
"Change my clothes! and why would you have me change, Master Selbitz the
tender-skinned?" cried the governor, wrathfully; "do you take me for a
silly woman, for a Frenchman? Do I change my clothes when I return from
the chase? Do my dogs change? do my horses change?"
"No, of course not, my lord, but your clothes smoke on your body, like
Dame Wilhelmina's tub when she is making the washing lye." . . .
"That shows that they are drying, and the dampness is leaving them!"
"But, my lord". . .
"But, hold your tongue, Master Selbitz the blockhead, Master Selbitz the
babbler, and give me a mug of kirchenwasser."
Then, seeing the letter which was on his plate, the baron asked:
"What is that, Selbitz?"
"A letter which Count Stasfield's carrier has brought."
"Oh! let business go to the devil! Tis enough to go to Vienna twice a
week," said the governor, breaking the seal of the letter.
It read thus:
"I wish to inform you, my dear baron, that the French Marquis M. de
Létorière will arrive to-day at your house to converse with you on the
subject of his lawsuit; I need not remind you of the formal promise you
have made me to add your vote to those of your colleagues, in favor of
the Duke of Brandenbourg. Believe me, my dear baron, etc."
"And what the devil is this Frenchman coming here for?" cried the
governor, in a passion. "By the Holy Kings of Cologne, am I never to
have one moment of repose? Here is this beau of Versailles coming to
rouse me like a wild boar from his lair. . . . In my opinion his lawsuit
is lost . . . totally lost. . . . What does he want more? Does he
believe that I am going to interest myself about him? An impudent little
fellow, who embroiders in tambour, and who uses, they say, rouge and
patches! One of these men of gallantry, as corrupt as effeminate, always
hanging on the skirts of the women! But, by the infernal, I can't escape
from this Marquis! If he comes, I shall be obliged to offer him
hospitality; it is fifteen leagues from here to Vienna, and I can't send
him back without seeing him! I wish the devil had all the lawyers and
lawsuits! and he's coming to-night! We must offer him a bed; but where
shall he sleep? Everything is dilapidated here, and this beauty will
come in a litter, like a woman in labor!"
The baron stamped his foot in anger, and calling his major-domo, said
with an air of vexation:
"Perhaps we shall have a Frenchman here to-night--a Marquis--a
pleader;--in such weather we cannot let him go back to Vienna. Where can
we put him, him and his suite? For this dandy undoubtedly travels with
his train of hair-dressers, bathers and perfumers!"
"Faith, my lord," said the major-domo, scratching his ear, "there is
only the rat-chamber, where the rain does not come in."
"Well then, put him in the rat-chamber." Then the baron added, with a
sort of bitter irony: "In order to convey a brilliant impression of the
hospitality bestowed at the castle of Henferester, and especially that
this delicate visitor may have all his comforts, don't forget,
major-domo, to cover his bed with the most beautiful silk curtains, to
furnish it with eider-down, and the finest linens of Friesland; to beat
well the Turkey carpet; to put perfumed candles into the silver-gilt
candlesticks, and to warm his bed with charcoal of aloes wood. Do you
understand, major-domo?"
"Yes, yes, my lord," said Martin Selbitz, busily occupying himself with
dishing up the quarter of venison, the bacon and the sauer-kraut, and
rejoiced at the peasantry of his master; "yes, my lord, be easy; I
understand you; the straw of his bed shall be fresh, and well stirred
up; the woollen coverlid well beaten, the floor well swept, the curtains
and tapestry of cobwebs well shaken, and the shutters set wide open,
that the moon may throw a bright light into the chamber of your guest;
in short, if he is so delicate and sensitive to cold, his bed shall be
warmed,--by the dog of the turnspit."
The baron could not help laughing at the factiousness of his
major-domo, who had so exactly described the rat-chamber, which was very
like his own apartment, so indifferent was he to the commonest
conveniences of life.
"To supper!" said the governor, drawing up his chair and taking his
hunting-knife from his belt.
At this moment was heard the sound of the trumpet, habitually used by
German postilions.
"Perhaps it is that confounded Marquis," cried the baron. "Hullo,
Erhard, Selbitz, run to receive him!"
The governor, rising heavily from his seat, went to the door, saying in
a growling tone: "He must have a devilish strong body to travel such
weather as this. . . . Bah, shut up in his post-chaise, he is much
better off than he will be in the castle. Let us see, then, this
beautiful darling, this beau, this most effeminate of all the
effeminates in the Court of France."
And the governor went forward to fulfil, in spite of himself, the duties
of hospitality towards his guest.