CONCLUSION.
THERE may be some, there may be many of my readers who would think that
Hamilton had been a “confounded fool,” were they to hear that, at the
appointed time, he braved the threats, resisted all the bribes of his
uncle, remitted his five thousand pounds to Munich, and returned to
Bavaria, with the intention there to live and die, “the world (_viz._,
London) forgetting, by the world forgot.” We do not wish him to fall in
the opinion of anyone, and therefore request all persons disposed to
entertain such an opinion of him, under such circumstances, to close
this book, and imagine he acted as they would have done in his place.
Often have vows as solemn as his been broken, and for the same mercenary
motives which might have tempted him; and if the world have not
applauded, it has at least not censured such derelictions in a manner to
deter others from practising them.
Suppose him, then, reader, (not gentle reader, for such would never
consent to the supposition,) suppose him at the end of two years, a
man of the world, or a worldly man, whichever you please, Hildegarde
not exactly forgotten, but remembered only as a “beautiful girl with
whom he had been at one time so much in love as to have entertained
the absurd idea of rusticating with her on a couple of hundred pounds
per annum in the Bavarian Highlands!” Suppose him attached to some
embassy, young, handsome, and rich, the chosen partner of all still
dancing princesses! Or suppose we put an end to Uncle Jack at once,
and allow Hamilton, without further delay, to inherit a fortune which
would give him a position in the London and Yorkshire world; if you
wish it, we can double his income too—in books, fifty or sixty
thousand a year is quite a common thing, and as to old uncles, they
are only mentioned in order that they may die, just when their fortune
is necessary to the happiness or comfort of younger or more
interesting persons. Suppose——Suppose——Suppose you close the book, as
before recommended, for nothing of this kind occurred. Uncle Jack (who
in his youth had taken a trip to Gretna Green) might have pardoned his
nephew’s “loving not wisely, but too well;” but he neither would do
so, nor would he die, and so Hamilton, after having listened to his
father’s reproaches and expostulations, endured his brother’s sneers,
and steadily set at defiance his uncle’s anger, returned to Munich and
claimed his bride, of whose coldness or want of enthusiasm he was
never afterward heard to complain.
Felsenbauer’s little property was purchased, and Hans, after having
officiated as Hamilton’s “gentleman” for two years in England, returned
to his primitive occupation of directing the plough—not quite, indeed,
with the satisfaction of a Cincinnatus, for years elapsed before he
ceased to regret his fallen greatness, or to expatiate to his few
ignorant fellow-servants on the splendors of his master’s home.
Hamilton resigned himself more cheerfully than his servant to his change
of fortune; he never spoke of home, with which his communication became
very indirect and uncertain from the time his sister had married and
gone to reside in the north of Scotland. His brother John seldom wrote,
his father and uncle never; he made no effort to conciliate the latter,
not even taking advantage of the occasions, which presented themselves
at a later period, of requesting him to become a godfather to a little
Jack or a little Joan. He became a good farmer, a keen sportsman, and so
celebrated as a rifle shot, that he was feared as a competitor at all
the _Scheiben-Schiessen_ in the neighbourhood. He generally wore a
mountaineer’s dress—perhaps because it was comfortable, perhaps, also,
because it was becoming; and in the course of a few years his family
would scarcely have recognised him in the vigorous, sunburnt man, whose
very features were changed in expression by his altered mode of
life—energy and strength had taken the place of ease and gracefulness.
A. Z. pronounced the change advantageous, and often said it would have
been difficult to have found a more picturesquely bandit-looking figure
than his when, on a return from the hunt, he sprang on the rocky path
leading to his mountain home, his slouched hat shading the upper, as
much as his long moustache the lower part of his face.
As to Hildegarde, the calm, contented tenor of her life preserved her
beauty in so remarkable a manner, that Hamilton seriously believed she
grew handsomer every year; they and the Z—s almost lived together, no
summer heat or winter storm kept them asunder; their alpine parties, and
sledging expeditions to the neighbouring balls were made together, and
many a little adventure is still remembered by both families, with a
mixture of amusement and regret—regret that those times are
past—gone—never to return again.
At the end of eight years Uncle Jack, unsolicited, relented, and
Hamilton was recalled. Can it be believed that for some days he
hesitated to obey the mandate? that Hildegarde wept bitterly for the
first time since her marriage? But so it was. The offers which, ten
years before, would have filled their hearts with gratitude and joy,
were now accepted as a sacrifice made to the future prospects of their
children. A. Z. to the last insisted that she would be the greatest
sufferer of all. “In you,” she said, turning to Hildegarde, “I lose the
most patient and intelligent of listeners; in your husband, the most
attentive of friends; eight years’ intimate intercourse, such as ours
has been, has made you both so completely a part of our family, that,
knowing how much we shall miss you, Herrmann and I have at length come
to the long protracted, desperate resolution of leaving Hohenfels; we
ought to have done so long ago, on account of the education of our
children.”
“Oh, no, don’t leave Hohenfels; we shall be sure to return here next
year—every summer!” cried Hamilton and Hildegarde, almost together.
But they have not returned, nor are they likely to do so. The revolution
which commenced in Germany, in the year 1848, is still in progress; to
foretell how, or when it will end, would be difficult; this much is,
however, certain, that Bavaria is not likely to be soon again (if ever)
as tranquil and happy as when these pages were first written; _then_ the
most intelligent peasant would have refused to leave his waltz, his pot
of beer, or his joyous _jodel_, for the sake of any newspaper that ever
was printed, or even to hear a political discussion between the
schoolmaster and the parish priest! Great is the change which has taken
place in this respect; without any law to control the liberty of the
press, newspapers of the worst tendency now circulate in all directions,
and the peasant reads, thinks, and talks more of politics than of his
crops, and naturally feels inclined to adopt opinions calculated to
elevate him in his own estimation, and draw those down to his level whom
he had formerly considered far above him. In order to appreciate the
importance of this change, my countrymen must remember that in Germany
the peasantry is the army.
Hohenfels is sold. Baron Z—found the brewery more expensive than
profitable, when his visits of inspection were limited to an occasional
week or ten days. He is half inclined to purchase Hamilton’s house,
which still remains, shut up and uninhabited; presenting, as A. Z.
observed in her last letter, the perfect picture of a deserted house,
with all its “garden flowers growing wild.”
* * * * *
“After all, Hildegarde,” said Hamilton, one morning, as they looked out
of the breakfast-room window into his uncle’s handsome domain, “after
all, if we could conjure a few of your mountains, with some chamois upon
them, here, I believe I could again prefer England to Germany—that is,
in my present position—a poor man really can enjoy life in Germany—it is
only a rich one who could do so in England!”
THE END.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
● Transcriber’s Notes:
○ Missing or obscured punctuation was silently corrected.
○ Typographical errors were silently corrected.
○ Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent only
when a predominant form was found in this book.
○ Text that was in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).
End of Project Gutenberg's The Initials, by Jemima Montgomery Tautphoeus