"Uncle Eden," said Maggie, "do you like Meredith's story?"
"Yes."
"Do you feel like talking now, Uncle Eden?"
"What about?"
"But I mean--do you feel like _talking_--about anything?"
"Depends on the subject, Maggie. Hark to that woodpecker!"
"Mr. Murray does _not_ feel like talking, I know," remarked Flora. "He
feels--if he ever feels!--lazy."
"No, Miss Flora, not exactly. And yet, how delicious this quiet is!"
"And the smell of the pines!"
"And the warm, luxurious air!"
"And the light through the pine branches, and upon the coloured leaves
yonder."
"Yes, and the blue of the sky," said Mr. Murray, who lying upon his back
had a good view. "Blue, through the pine needles. Such an ethereal,
clear blue; not like summer's intensity."
"I like summer best," said Flora.
"I like this. But what did you want to talk about, children?"
"O Uncle Eden! a great many things. You see, we do not all think alike."
"Naturally."
"And we want you to tell us how we ought to think."
"_You_ do," said Mr. Murray laughing. "That will answer for ten years
old. I am sure the others are more independent."
"But we want to know what _you_ think, Uncle Eden--about ever so many
things. We have been saving them up till you came. Ditto wants to know
what Christians ought to do--about some things."
"And I hope you will tell him, Mr. Murray," said Flora, "what Christians
ought _not_ to do--about some things."
Mr. Murray raised himself up on his elbows and looked at the young
people around him. It was a very pretty picture. Fair young faces, that
life had not clouded, intelligent and honest; bright young figures in
all the freshness of neat attire and excellent personal care; the
setting of the green wood, the brown carpet of pine needles, the hazy
October air, here and there the crimson of a Virginia creeper, here and
there the tawny hues of a cat-briar or a wild grape-vine; stillness and
softness over all, the chirrup of a cricket, the cawing of two crows
flying over, the interrupted tap of the woodpecker, just making you
notice how still and soft it was; and then the bright, living young
faces raised or turned, and waiting upon him. Mr. Murray looked and
smiled, and did not at once speak; then he asked what subject came
first. So many answers were begun at once that all had to stop; then
Maggie, getting the field, said--
"We want to know how much a Christian ought really to give, Uncle Eden."
"Say, rather--how much he ought to do," put in Meredith.
"Yes," added Flora; "we do want instruction on that point. Some of us
are rather wild."
"Too big a subject for the present time and place," responded the
referee of the little company. "To-morrow is Sunday; let us keep it for
to-morrow, and come out here, or to some other place, and discuss it."
"That is delightful!" cried Maggie clapping her hands. "Now, what were
some of the other things, Ditto?"
"About the Saxons. But Mr. Murray did not hear our first story."
"Oh, I know. I guess he knows. You do know about the old Saxons, don't
you, Uncle Eden?"
"I know there was such a people."
"And you know they were very good and very bad--both at once; and we
wanted to know _how_ they could be so much worse, and yet so much
better, than people nowadays."
"How 'so much better'?"
"They told the truth, Uncle Eden."
"There were no cowards and no marriage-breakers among them," Meredith
added.
"And then how 'so much worse'?"
"Oh, they were cruel! they offered human sacrifices; they were
frightfully cruel."
"Yes," said Mr. Murray thoughtfully; "the contrast seems strange. They
were a noble people in many ways."
"But Pastor Harms says they are not half so good now that they are
Christians," Maggie went on.
"If that is true, there must be a reason for it."
"Yes, Uncle Eden, of course."
"And that reason cannot be found, in their Christianity."
"But how is it, Uncle Eden?"
"Human nature is very much alike at all times, my child."
"But the old Saxons were not like the old Romans, Uncle Eden. The word
of a Saxon was better than a Roman's oath."
"And the modern Saxons are not like their forefathers," said Meredith;
"at least, according to Pastor Harms."
"I have no doubt he is right."
"And Frenchmen are very different from Englishmen," added Flora.
"And both from Americans. And the Dutch from all three. We might go on
indefinitely."
"Yet they are all descended from Noah's sons," Meredith remarked.
"It is a very curious subject, and rather deep for some of the present
company. Many things go to make the differences between one nation and
another. In the first place, the several families of Shem, Ham and
Japheth are all strongly marked."
"Are they, sir?"
"Then, among the tribes of any one family, differences grow up from many
causes. From the sort of country they inhabit, the climate that
prevails, the scenery their eyes rest on, the ease or difficulty of
obtaining food, and the means necessary to that end; from the religion
they believe in, their situation with respect to commerce and
intercourse with other nations; their habits of life superinduced upon
all these."
"But the modern Saxons live where the old Saxons did, sir?"
"Barely. The country was at that time all one wild tract of forest and
moor, where life had need be of the simplest; and where it was sustained
in great measure by the chase and by a rude husbandry. No cities, no
churches, no libraries, no merchants, no lawyers, no fine furniture, no
delicate living. Nobody therefore wanted money, and nobody tried to get
it. That makes all the difference in the world, children."
"Money, Uncle Eden?"
"Look at the map of Germany now; run your eye over the cities. Remember
the treasures of art in this and that gallery; the beautiful old
buildings almost everywhere; the great trading houses; the life of
complicated interests, political, literary, scientific, social,
critical, artistic, mercantile; think of the books, the pictures, the
statuary, the jewellery, the carvings and engravings, the luxurious and
magnificent living. Everybody wants money now, and nearly everybody
either has it, or is working hard for it."
"Does money make so much odds in national character?" Meredith asked.
"It is the root of all evil," Mr. Murray said smiling.
"But, Mr. Murray, you do not seriously mean that?" said Flora.
"The Bible says it, Miss Flora; not I."
"But what can you have, or do, that is worth anything, without money?"
"Exactly! That is the general opinion. So everybody is striving to get
money."
"Well, people would stagnate if they did not strive for something."
"Quite true. Nevertheless, the Bible award proves itself. If you examine
facts, you will find that the love of money is at the bottom of nearly
all the crimes that are committed; and at the root of all the
meannesses, speaking generally."
"Then you would make out money to be a bad thing, Mr. Murray!"
"Not money necessarily. But 'if any man _will be rich_, he shall fall
into temptation and a snare, and into many foolish and hurtful lusts,
which drown men in destruction and perdition.'"
"Then was that the reason, Uncle Eden, why those old Saxons were so
noble, because they had no money?"
"One reason, I fancy. Along with trade and riches, don't you see, comes
the temptation to underhand and false dealings, that money may be got
faster; and so comes cringing for the sake of advantage, and flattery
for the same. And then, with luxury comes dislike of hardships, and
neglect of manly living, and people's moral sense gets weak along with
their bodily powers. Self-indulgence drives out the noble uprightness
that was maintained when people feared nothing."
"But religion--Christianity?" said Meredith. "That ought to have made
more difference the other way."
"So it would if it prevailed. But a name is not Christianity; and the
real thing is only here and there. The wheat in the midst of tares, as
the Lord said it would be."
Maggie drew a long sigh.
"The wheat must show itself for what it is," said her uncle smiling at
her, "and bear a fine head of fruit, to rebuke the tares. Your old
Saxons, however, were a fine stock to begin with."
"I think I understand this question," said Meredith.
"I do, too," said Maggie.
"I am sorry Mr. Murray thinks so ill of money," remarked Flora.
"Of the love of it, say."
"But how can one have it--or not have it, for that matter--and help
loving it?"
"So the danger comes in. And the difficulty of giving it all to Christ."
"O Uncle Eden! you are getting upon another of our questions now."
"And we have had enough serious talk for one time. Leave it till
to-morrow, Maggie."
"Shall I read some more?" said Meredith. "Or have you heard enough?"
"By all means, read. This is luxury."
And Mr. Murray stretched himself comfortably on the pine needles and
clasped his hands under his head, repeating, "This is luxury!" while
Meredith opened his book again.
"Another Saxon story, Ditto?" Flora asked.
"Out of the Saxon chronicles. Yes. 'The story that I am going to tell
you now, happened in ancient times and at a place called Dagefoerde.
"'Our forefathers, the old Saxons, were then divided into ediling or
nobles, freiling or free peasants, and serfs. A freiling, by name
Henning, lived on this farm, in the days when Hermann Billing was Duke
of Saxony. At that time--it is 900 years ago--our country was already a
Christian country, but still had hard fights to go through with the
heathenish Wends, who made inroads almost yearly into our Eastphalian
land, plundering and killing, and showing a special rage against the
churches and the priests. The strong arm of the two excellent emperors,
Heinrich and Otto, it is true, kept back these heathen and held them in
awe; but, notwithstanding, they availed themselves of every opportunity
to renew their murderous onslaughts.
"'Now when once Kaiser Otto was gone to Italy, and staying a long while
away, they were minded to profit by his absence; for they supposed that
now they could burn and lay waste to their heart's desire, and with no
hindrance. So they came with a great host, burned down the churches,
killed the priests, dragged off men, women, and children, and treasures
of booty, and came as far as to this part of the country. It is told of
their frightful rage against Christianity, that on one occasion they
took more than twenty Christian priests, stripped off their clothes, cut
bloody crosses on their faces, breasts, bodies, and backs, and then tied
them by their feet to the tails of their horses, which they drove round
and round till their victims were dragged to death.'"
"It cost something in those days to be a Christian," said Meredith with
something of a shudder.
"There have been many such days in the history of the Church," said Mr.
Murray. "And yet, it pays to be a Christian. It did then."
"I do not see, for my part, how people stood it, there and in other
places," said Flora. "I should think they would not have dared to
confess they were Christians."
"They could not be Christians and not confess--neither in those days nor
in these days."
"Why, Uncle Eden?" said Esther, who seldom said anything.
"You know the Lord's declaration--He will own those publicly who own Him
publicly, _and nobody else_."
"But why couldn't they own Him privately?"
"Will you tell me how that is to be done, my dear?"
"Why, by beautiful Christian living and acting," said Flora.
"Don't you see, if such living could be found among those who are in
name and profession not the Lord's, it would fight all _against_ His
cause and Him? What sort of confessing of _Him_ is that?"
Nobody answered, and Meredith went on.
"'In the meanwhile the valiant Duke Hermann had gathered his faithful
followers and moved forward to meet the enemy. All the ediling and
freiling were called upon for such expeditions of war, none other having
the right to bear arms. The ediling served on horseback and the freiling
on foot, and each one brought his own weapons with him. And Henning, the
freiling of Dagefoerde, was among the Christian warriors who accompanied
the Duke. Not far from here is the Huenenburg, an extent of heath on
which there are a number of burial mounds. There it came to a battle
between the Christians and the heathen. The fight was long and bloody;
Christ led the one host, Satan the other. The Christians fought for
their faith, the heathen fought for their prey. Before the battle,
Hermann with his warriors had cast himself upon his knees and besought
the Lord Christ that He would be their leader. Therewith came the storm
of the heathen upon them, already certain of victory, for they were many
and the Christian number was small; Hermann, in his noble eagerness to
protect his poor people, not having had patience to wait for further
reinforcements. But the Christians stood immovable, like a wall, and the
heathen fell in heaps under their swords and spears. In the Christian
army there were twelve priests wearing white garments, who bore a white
banner with a red cross; and wherever the fight raged most madly,
thither they carried their banner, singing, "Kyrie Eleison, Christe
Eleison, Kyrie Eleison;" the Christian warriors dashing after them,
joining in the holy song, wielding their hacked swords, and with
irresistible force driving the heathen back. In vain the heathen sought
to slay the priests and to seize their white banner; every Christian
presented his breast as its bulwark against the foe. Whichever way the
banner turned, victory went with it. Louder and louder sounded the
"Kyrie Eleison," with more and more valour and joy of victory the
Christians pressed forward. Then one of the Wendish leaders, Zwentibold
by name, gathered once more the bravest of his people to make a stormy
effort for the banner of the cross. His rage of onset broke through some
ranks of the Christians; already he had penetrated to the near
neighbourhood of the priests; when a foot-soldier from among the
Christians manfully planted himself in his way and thrust his sharp
spear against the heathen's broad breast, so that the coat of chain
armour he had on was broken, and the spear pierced through his heart.
Now there was no stand made any longer; the heathen fled, and in terror
they cried out, "Christ has conquered! Christ has conquered!"
"'Duke Hermann looked about him to see the brave freiling who had done
such a deed of heroism; it was Henning, the freiling of Dagefoerde. For
his reward, Hermann dubbed the brave man knight upon the field of
battle, and Henning returned to his house as an ediling. Though but for
a little while. For Hermann was minded to profit by his victory and
compel his stubborn enemies to keep the peace in future. So he pushed on
with his army, now greatly reinforced, into the country of the Wends,
and Henning went with his Duke.
"'Not far from the Elbe there was a temple of the heathenish idol
Radegast; this temple stood within a strong fortress, called the
fortress of Radegast, where now the village of Radegast lies. The
heathen had collected and carried to this place all the treasures of the
prey they had seized in their plundering incursions. Hermann resolved to
storm this fortress, and therewith to destroy the bulwark of heathenism
on this side the Elbe. The heathen defended themselves with the bravery
of despair; many assaults were beaten back, and many a Christian fell in
death before the ramparts of the fortress. The tenth day of the siege,
the Christians held divine service and on their knees prayed the Lord of
hosts to give them victory. Then they rushed upon the place to take it
by storm; and among the foremost of those who clambered up the ramparts
of the fortress was Henning of Dagefoerde, who in order to inspirit the
Christians and terrify the heathen set up the field-song of the
Huenenburg--"Kyrie Eleison, Christe Eleison, Kyrie Eleison!" Just as he
had sung it through, an arrow from one of the enemy pierced his bold
heart; he fell to the ground in death, but as a dying conqueror, who has
gained the battle for Christ and with Christ. The fortress was won;
those of the heathen who would not yield were put to death. Hermann
dashed away a tear from his manly eye as he buried the brave Henning,
and he said to Hilmer, Henning's oldest son, a boy of sixteen, who had
come along to the war, "My son, you are early fledged. Your father was a
true Christian and a true Saxon; follow in his steps, and so long as I
live, I will be your father." Of all the enormous booty which Hermann
found in the Wendenburg Radegast, this noble man kept nothing for
himself. One half of the treasures he set apart, to rebuild with them
all the churches which the Wends had burned down; the other half he
distributed among his knights and warriors. Hilmer of Dagefoerde got his
share too, and indeed a double portion, one for himself and one for his
father. When he returned home, he took counsel with his mother what they
should do with it; and they agreed together that it should be used for
the glory of God. They erected a chapel in their own house, with an
altar and all the fittings of a church. Part of the money was applied to
this use, and with the remainder a chaplaincy was founded in the church
at Hermannsburg, which at that time was the only church in the whole
Oerze valley, with the stipulation that the chaplain should come every
Sunday to Dagefoerde and hold divine service in the chapel there. A
servant, with a led horse, must go to fetch him every time from
Hermannsburg, and bring him back thither again. This service at
Dagefoerde lasted till the Reformation. But when the evangelical faith
was preached in Hermannsburg by the valiant Pastor Gruenhagen, who, as I
told you awhile ago in Tiefenthal, was converted to the pure Lutheran
doctrine by an artisan fellow who read him the little Lutheran
catechism, then this service at Dagefoerde ceased, because the possessors
of Dagefoerde held stiffly and firmly by the Catholic faith, and
obstinately rejected the pure doctrine. But now for a long time there
have been lords of Dagefoerde no more. The race died out; and when one
only of the family was left, he entered a Catholic cloister, where, in
the year 1616, he died. Then the reigning Duke gave the manor of
Dagefoerde to the lords of Lueneburg, and they again sold it to some
peasants, after they had divided the farm into two. So these farms have
again become what they were originally--peasant farms. God grant to the
present owners that they may stand firm and true to the pure faith of
our beloved church, that they may earnestly strive to be genuine
Christians and genuine Saxon peasants; then will it go well with them
and with those that come after them.'"