ROSENVIK, 1st June, 18.
Here I am now, dear Maria, in my own house and home, at my own
writing-table, and with my own Bear. And who then is Bear? no doubt you
ask. Who else should he be but my own husband? I call him _Bear_
because--it so happens. I am seated at the window. The sun is setting.
Two swans are swimming in the lake, and furrow its clear mirror. Three
cows--_my cows_--are standing on the verdant margin, quiet, fat, and
pensive, and certainly think of nothing. What excellent cows they are!
Now the maid is coming up with the milk-pail. Delicious milk in the
country! But what is not good in the country? Air and people, food and
feelings, earth and sky, everything there is fresh and cheering.
Now I must introduce you to my place of abode--no! I must begin farther
off. Upon yonder hill, from which I first beheld the valley in which
Rosenvik lies (the hill is some miles in the interior of Smaaland) do
you descry a carriage covered with dust? In it are seated Bear and his
wedded wife. The wife is looking out with curiosity, for before her lies
a valley so beautiful in the tranquillity of evening! Below are green
groves which fringe mirror-clear lakes, fields of standing corn bend in
silken undulations round gray mountains, and white buildings glance amid
the trees. Round about, pillars of smoke are shooting up vertically from
the wood-covered hills to the serene evening sky. This seems to indicate
the presence of volcanoes, but in point of fact it is merely the
peaceful labor of the husbandmen burning the vegetation, in order to
fertilize the soil. At all events, it is an excellent thing, and I am
delighted, bend forward, and am just thinking about a happy family in
nature,--Paradise, and Adam and Eve,--when suddenly Bear puts his great
paws around me, and presses me so that I am near giving up the ghost,
while, kissing me, he entreats me to "be comfortable here." I was a
little provoked; but when I perceived the heartfelt intention of the
embrace, I could not but be satisfied.
In this valley, then, was my permanent home: here my new family was
living; here lay Rosenvik; here I was to live with my Bear. We descended
the hill, and the carriage rolled rapidly along the level way. Bear told
me the names of every estate, both in the neighborhood and at a
distance. I listened as if I were dreaming, but was roused from my
reverie when he said with a certain stress, "_Here_ is the residence of
_ma chère mère_," and the carriage drove into a courtyard, and stopped
before a large and fine stone house.
"What, are we going to alight here?" "Yes, my love." This was by no
means an agreeable surprise to me. I would gladly have first driven to
my own home, there to prepare myself a little for meeting my husband's
stepmother, of whom I was a little afraid, from the accounts I had heard
of that lady, and the respect Bear entertained for her. This visit
appeared entirely _mal àpropos_ to me, but Bear has his own ideas, and I
perceived from his manner that it was not expedient then to offer any
resistance.
It was Sunday, and on the carriage drawing up, the tones of a violin
became audible to me. "Aha!" said Bear, "so much the better;" made a
ponderous leap from the carriage, and lifted me out. Of hat-cases and
packages, no manner of account was to be taken. Bear took my hand,
ushered me up the steps into the magnificent hall, and dragged me toward
the door from whence the sounds of music and dancing were heard. "See,"
thought I, "now I am to dance in this costume forsooth!" I wished to go
into some place where I could shake the dust from my nose and my bonnet;
where I could at least view myself in a mirror. Impossible! Bear,
leading me by the arm, assured me that I looked "most charming," and
entreated me to mirror myself in his eyes. I then needs must be so
discourteous as to reply that they were "too small." He protested that
they were only the clearer, and opened the door to the ball-room. "Well,
since you lead me to the ball, you shall also dance with me, you Bear!"
I exclaimed in the gayety of despair, so to speak. "With delight!" cried
Bear, and at the same moment we found ourselves in the salon.
My alarm diminished considerably when I perceived in the spacious room
only a crowd of cleanly attired maids and serving-men, who were sweeping
merrily about with one another. They were so busied with dancing as
scarcely to observe us. Bear then conducted me to the upper end of the
apartment; and there, on a high seat, I saw a tall and strong lady of
about fifty, who was playing on a violin with zealous earnestness, and
beating time with her foot, which she stamped with energy. On her head
she wore a remarkable and high-projecting cap of black velvet, which I
will call a helmet, because that word occurred to my mind at the very
first view I had of her, and I know no one more appropriate. She looked
well, but singular. It was the lady of General Mansfelt, my husband's
stepmother, _ma chère mère!_
She speedily cast her large dark-brown eyes on me, instantly ceased
playing, laid aside the violin, and drew herself up with a proud
bearing, but an air of gladness and frankness. Bear led me towards her.
I trembled a little, bowed profoundly, and kissed _ma chère mère's_
hand. She kissed my forehead, and for a while regarded me with such a
keen glance, that I was compelled to abase my eyes, on which she again
kissed me most cordially on lips and forehead, and embraced me almost as
lustily as Bear had. Now it was Bear's turn; he kissed the hand of _ma
chère mère_ right respectfully; she however offered him her cheek, and
they appeared very friendly. "Be welcome, my dear friends!" said _ma
chère mère_, with a loud, masculine voice. "It was handsome in you to
come to me before driving to your own home. I thank you for it. I would
indeed have given you a better reception had I been prepared; at all
events, I know that 'Welcome is the best cheer.' I hope, my friends, you
stay the evening here?" Bear excused us, said that we desired to get
home soon, that I was fatigued from the journey, but that we would not
drive by Carlsfors without paying our respects to _ma chère mère_.
"Well, very good, well, very good!" said _ma chère mère_, with
satisfaction; "we will shortly talk further about that in the chamber
there; but first I must say a few words to the people here. Hark ye,
good friends!" and _ma chère mère_ knocked with the bow on the back of
the violin, till a general silence ensued in the salon. "My children,"
she pursued in a solemn manner, "I have to tell you--a plague upon you!
will you not be still there, at the lower end?--I have to inform you
that my dear son, Lars Anders Werner, has now led home, as his wedded
wife, this Francisca Burén whom you see at his side. Marriages are made
in heaven, my children, and we will supplicate heaven to complete its
work in blessing this conjugal pair. We will this evening together drink
a bumper to their prosperity. That will do! Now you can continue your
dancing, my children. Olof, come you here, and do your best in playing."
While a murmur of exultation and congratulations went through the
assembly, _ma chère mère_ took me by the hand, and led me, together with
Bear, into another room. Here she ordered punch and glasses to be
brought in. In the interim she thrust her two elbows on the table,
placed her clenched hands under her chin, and gazed steadfastly at me,
but with a look which was rather gloomy than friendly. Bear, perceiving
that _ma chère mère's_ review embarrassed me, broached the subject of
the harvest or rural affairs. _Ma chère mère_ vented a few sighs, so
deep that they rather resembled groans, appeared to make a violent
effort to command herself, answered Bear's questions, and on the arrival
of the punch, drank to us, saying, with a serious look and voice, "Son
and son's wife, your health!" On this she grew more friendly, and said
in a tone of pleasantry, which beseemed her very well, "Lars Anders, I
don't think people can say you have bought the calf in the sack. Your
wife does not by any means look in bad case, and has a pair of eyes to
buy fish with. Little she is, it is true; but 'Little and bold is often
more than a match for the great.'"
I laughed, so did _ma chère mère_ also; I began to understand her
character and manner. We gossiped a little while together in a lively
manner, and I recounted some little adventures of travel, which amused
her exceedingly. After the lapse of an hour, we arose to take leave, and
_ma chère mère_ said, with a really charming smile, "I will not detain
you this evening, delighted as I am to see you. I can well imagine that
home is attractive. Stay at home to-morrow, if you will; but the day
after to-morrow come and dine with me. As to the rest, you know well
that you are at all times welcome. Fill now your glasses, and come and
drink the folks' health. Sorrow we should keep to ourselves, but share
joy in common."
We went into the dancing-room with full glasses, _ma chère mère_ leading
the way as herald. They were awaiting us with bumpers, and _ma chère
mère_ addressed the people something in this strain:--"We must not
indeed laugh until we get over the brook; but when we set out on the
voyage of matrimony with piety and good sense, then may be applied the
adage that 'Well begun is half won'; and on that, my friends, we will
drink a skoal to this wedded pair you see before you, and wish that both
they and their posterity may ever 'sit in the vineyard of our
Lord.' Skoal!"
"Skoal! skoal!" resounded from every side. Bear and I emptied our
glasses, and went about and shook a multitude of people by the hand,
till my head was all confusion. When this was over, and we were
preparing to prosecute our journey, _ma chère mère_ came after us on the
steps with a packet or bundle in her hand, and said in a friendly
manner, "Take this cold roast veal with you, children, for breakfast
to-morrow morning. After that, you must fatten and consume your own
calves. But forget not, daughter-in-law, that I get back my napkin. No,
you shan't carry it, dear child, you have enough to do with your bag and
mantle. Lars Anders shall carry the roast veal." And as if Lars Anders
had been still a little boy, she charged him with the bundle, showed him
how he was to carry it, and Bear did as she said. Her last words were,
"Forget not that I get my napkin again!" I looked with some degree of
wonder at Bear; but he smiled, and lifted me into the carriage.