O. T., A Danish Romance Part 36

We do not require alone from the portrait-painter that he should represent the person, but that he should represent him in his happiest moment. To the plain as well as to the inexpressive countenance must the painter give every beauty which it possesses. Every human being has moments in which something intellectual or characteristic presents itself. Nature, too, when we are presented only with the most barren landscape, has the same moments; light and shadow produce these effects.

The poet must be like the painter; he must seize upon these moments in human life as the other in nature.

If the reader were a child who lived in Odense, it would require nothing more from him than that he should say the words, "St. Knud's fair;"

and this, illumined by the beams of the imagination of childhood, would stand before him in the most brilliant colors. Our description will be only a shadow; it will be that, perhaps, which the many will find it to be.

Already in the suburbs the crowd of people, and the outspread earthenware of the potters, which entirely covered the trottoir, announced that the fair was in full operation.

The carriage drove down from the bridge across the Odense River.

"See, how beautiful it is here!" exclaimed Wilhelm.

Between the gardens of the city and a s.p.a.ce occupied as a bleaching ground lay the river. The magnificent church of St. Knud, with its lofty tower, terminated the view.

"What red house was that?" inquired Otto, when they had lost sight of it.

"That is the nunnery!" replied Louise, knowing what thought it was which had arisen in his mind.

"There stood in the ancient times the old bishop's palace, where Beldenak lived!" said Sophie. "Just opposite to the river is the bell-well, where a bell flew out of St. Albani's tower. The well is unfathomable. Whenever rich people in Odense die, it rings down below the water!"

"It is not a pleasant thought," said Otto, "that it rings in the well when they must die."

"One must not take it in that way now!" said Sophie, laughing, and turned the subject. "Odense has many lions," continued she, "from a king's garden with swans in it to a great theatre, which has this in common with La Scala and many Italian ones, that it is built upon the ruins of a convent. [Note: That of the Black Brothers.]

"In Odense, aristocracy and democracy held out the longest," said Wilhelm, smiling; "yet I remember, in my childhood, that when the n.o.bles and the citizens met on the king's birthday at the town-house ball, that we danced by ourselves."

"Were not, then, the citizens strong enough to throw the giddy n.o.bles out of the window?" inquired Otto.

"You forget, Mr. Thostrup, that you yourself are n.o.ble!" said Sophie. "I was really the G.o.ddess of fate who gave to you your genealogical tree."

"You still remember that evening?" said Otto, with a gentle voice, and the thoughts floated as gayly in his mind as the crowd of people floated up and down in the streets through which they drove.

Somewhere about the middle of the city five streets met; and this point, which widens itself out into a little square, is called the Cross Street: here lay the hotel to which the family drove.

"Two hours and a quarter too late!" said the Kammerjunker, who came out to meet them on the steps. "Good weather for the fair, and good horses! I have already been out at the West-gate, and have bought two magnificent mares. One of them kicked out behind, and had nearly given me a blow on the breast, so that I might have said I had had my fairing!

Jakoba is paying visits, drinking chocolate, and eating biscuits.

Mamsell is out taking a view of things. Now you know our story."

The ladies went to their chamber, the gentlemen remained in the saloon.

"Yes, here you shall see a city and a fair, Mr. Thostrup!" said the Kammerjunker, and slapped Otto on the shoulder.

"Odense was at one time my princ.i.p.al chief-city," said Wilhelm; "and still St. Knud's Church is the most magnificent I know. G.o.d knows whether St. Peter's in Rome would make upon me, now that I am older, the impression which this made upon me as a child!"

"In St. Knud's Church lies the Mamsell with the cats," said the Kammerjunker.

"The bishop's lady, you should say," returned Wilhelm. "The legend relates, that there was a lady of a Bishop Mus who loved her cats to that degree that she left orders that they should be laid with her in the grave. [Author's Note: The remains of the body, as well as the skeletons of the cats, are still to be seen in a chapel on the western aisle of the church.] We will afterward go and see them."

"Yes, both the bishop's lady and the cats," said the Kammerjunker, "look like dried fis.h.!.+ Then you must also see the nunnery and the military library."

"The Hospital and the House of Correction!" added Wilhelm.

The beating of a drum in the street drew them to the window. The city crier, in striped linsey-woolsey jacket and breeches, and with a yellow band across his shoulders, stood there, beat upon his drum, and proclaimed aloud from a written paper many wonderful things which were to be seen in the city.

"He beats a good drum," said the Kammerjunker.

"It would certainly delight Rossini and Spontini to hear the fellow!"

said Wilhelm. "In fact Odense would be, at New Year's time, a city for these two composers. You must know that at that season drums and fifes are in their glory. They drum the New Year in. Seven or eight little drummers and fifers go from door to door, attended by children and old women; at that time they beat both the tattoo and the reveille. For this they get a few pence. When the New Year is drummed-in in the city they wander out into the country, and drum there for bacon and groats. The New Year's drumming in lasts until about Easter."

"And then we have new pastimes," said the Kammerjunker.

"Then come the fishers from Stige, [Author's Note: A fis.h.i.+ng village in Odense Fjord.] with a complete band, and carrying a boat upon their shoulders ornamented with a variety of flags. After that they lay a board between two boats, and upon this two of the youngest and the strongest have a wrestling-match, until one of them falls into the water. The last years they both have allowed themselves to tumble in.

And this has been done in consequence of one young man who fell in being so stung by the jeers which his fall had occasioned that he left, that same day, the fis.h.i.+ng village, after which no one saw him. But all the fun is gone now! In my boyhood the merriment was quite another thing.

It was a fine sight when the corporation paraded with their ensign and harlequin on the top! And at Easter, when the butchers led about a bullock ornamented with ribbons and Easter-twigs, on the back of which was seated a little winged boy in a s.h.i.+rt. They had Turkish music, and carried flagons with them! See! all that have I outlived, and yet I am not so old. Baron Wilhelm must have seen the ornamented ox. Now all that is past and gone; people are got so refined! Neither is St. Knud's fair that which it used to be."

"For all that, I rejoice that it is not so!" said Wilhelm. "But we will go into the market and visit the Jutlanders, who are sitting there among the heath with their earthenware. You will stand a chance there, Mr.

Thostrup, of meeting with an old acquaintance; only you must not have home-sickness when you smell the heather and hear the ringing of the clattering pots!"

The ladies now entered. Before paying any visits they determined upon making the round of the market. The Kammerjunker offered his arm to the mother. Otto saw this with secret gladness, and approached Sophie. She accepted him willingly as an attendant; they must indeed get into the throng.

As in the Middle Ages the various professions had their distinct streets and quarters, so had they also here. The street which led to the market place, and which in every-day life was called the "Shoemaker Street,"

answered perfectly to its name. The shoemakers had ranged their tables side by side. These, and the rails which had been erected for the purpose, were hung over with all kinds of articles for the feet; the tables themselves were laden with heavy shoes and thick-soled boots.

Behind these stood the skillful workman in his long Sunday coat, and with his well-brushed felt-hat upon his head.

Where the shoemakers' quarter ended that of the hatters' began, and with this one was in the middle of the great market-place, where tents and booths formed many parallel streets. The booth of galanterie wares, the goldsmith's, and the confectioner's, most of them constructed of canvas, some few of them of wood, were points of great attraction. Round about fluttered ribbons and handkerchiefs; round about were noise and bustle.

Peasant-girls out of the same village went always in a row, seven or eight inseparables, with their hands fast locked in each other; it was impossible to break the chain; and if people tried to press through them, the whole flock rolled together in a heap.

Behind the booths there lay a great s.p.a.ce filled with wooden shoes, coa.r.s.e earthenware, turners' and saddlers' work. Upon tables were spread out toys, generally rudely made and coa.r.s.ely painted. All around the children a.s.sayed their little trumpets, and turned about their playthings. The peasant-girls twirled and twisted both the work-boxes and themselves many a time before the bargain was completed. The air was heavy with all kinds of odors, and was spiced with the fragrance of honey-cake.

Here acquaintances met each other-some peasant-maidens, perhaps, who had been born in the same village, but since then had been separated.

"Good day!" exclaimed they, took each other by the hand, gave their arms a swing, and laughed.

"Farewell!"

That was the whole conversation: such a one went on in many places.

"That is the heather!" exclaimed Otto, as he approached the quarter where the Jutland potters had their station; "how refres.h.i.+ng is the odor!" said he, and stooping down seized a twig fresh and green, as if it had been plucked only yesterday.

"Aye, my Jesus though! is not that Mr. Otto!" exclaimed a female voice just beside him, and a young Jutland peasantwoman skipped across the pottery toward him. Otto knew her. It was the little Maria, the eelman's daughter, who, as we may remember at Otto's visit to the fisher's, had removed to Ringkjoebing, and had hired herself for the hay and cornharvest--the brisk Maria, "the girl," as her father called her. She had been betrothed in Ringkjoebing, and married to the rich earthenware dealer, and now had come across the salt-water to Odense fair, where she should meet with Mr. Otto.

"Her parents lived on my grandfather's estate," said Otto to Sophie, who observed with a smile the young wife's delight in meeting with an acquaintance of her childhood. The husband was busily employed in selling his wares; he heard nothing of it.

"Nay, but how elegant and handsome you are become!" said the young wife: "but see, I knew you again for all that! Grandmother, you may believe me, thinks a deal about you! The old body, she is so brisk and lively; it does not trouble her a bit that she cannot see! You are the second acquaintance that I have met with in the fair. It's wonderful how people come here from all parts of the world! The players are here too! You still remember the German Heinrich? Over there in the gray house, at the corner of the market, he is acting his comedy in the gateway."

"I am glad that I have seen you!" said Otto, and nodded kindly. "Greet them at home, and the grandmother, for me!"

"Greet them also from me!" said Sophie smiling. "You, Mr. Thostrup, must for old acquaintance sake buy something. You ought also to give me a fairing: I wish for that great jug there!"

"Where are you staying!" cried Wilhelm, and came back, whilst the rest went forward.