Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

fresh air, and all the bright colors of an English landscape around us. Bell rapid ly resumed her ordinary good spirits. She begged to have the reins; and when these had been handed over to her, with various cautions, the excitement of driving a pair of horses that yet showed considerable signs of freshness brought a new color into her cheeks. The route which we now followed was one of the prettiest we had yet met with. Instead of following the old stage-coach route by Droitwich, we struck almost due north by a line of small and picturesque villages lying buried in the heart of this deeply-wooded country. The first of these was Ombersley-a curious little clump of cottages, nearly all of which were white, with black bars of woodwork crossed and re-crossed; and they had odd gables, and lattices, and decorations, so that they looked almost like toy. cottages. Wearing white and black in this prominent way, our Uhlan immediately claimed them as Prussian property; but beyond the fact of the showing the Prussian colors, there was little else foreignlooking about those old-fashioned English houses lying along this level lane, and half hidden amid elms. As we got up into the higher ground above Ombersley we found around us a very pleasant landscape; and it seemed to strike my gentleeyed companion that the names of the villages around had been chosen to accord with the tender and sylvan beauties of this pretty piece of country. One of the signposts we passed had inscribed on it, "To Doverdale and Hampton Lovett." Then in the neighborhood are Elmley Lovett, Elmbridge, Crossway Green, and Gardeners' Grove; while down between these runs Doverdale Brook, skirting Westmoor Park, the large house of which we could see as a faint blue mound amid the general leafage. The country, which is flat about Ombersley, gets more undulating about Hartlebury and on towards Kidderminster. The road winds up and down gentle hills, with tall and ruddy banks of sand on each side, which are hanging with every variety of wild flower and wayside weed. On both hands dense woods come down to these tall and picturesque banks; and you drive through an atmosphere laden with moist and resinous scents.

It was fortunate for us, indeed, that before starting we had lived for a time in town; for all the various perfumes of the

hedges and fields came upon us with a surprise. Every now and again, on these cool and breezy mornings, we would drive past a hay-field, with the fresh and sweet odors blowing all around. Or perhaps it was a great clump of wild rose-bushes that filled the air with delicate scent. Then the lime-trees were in flower; and who does not know the delight of passing under the boughs laden with blossom, when the bees are busy overhead? More rarely, but still frequently enough in this favored country, a whiff of honeysuckle was borne to us as we passed. And if these things sweetened the winds that blew about us, consider what stars of color refreshed the eye as we drove gently past the tall hedgerows and borders of woods

the golden rock-roses, purple patches of wild thyme, the white glimmering of stitchwort and capion, the yellow spires of the snap-dragon, and a thousand others. And then, when we ceased to speak, there was no blank of silence. Away over the hayfield the lark floated in the blue, making the air quiver with his singing; the robin, perched on a fence, looked at us saucily, and piped a few notes by way of remark; the blackbird was heard, flute-throated, down in the hollow recesses of the woods; and the thrush, in a holly-tree by the wayside, sang out his sweet, clear song, that seemed to rise in strength as the wind awoke a sudden rustling through the long woods of birch and oak.

"Well, touching that sealed packet ?" says my Lady aloud.

"Oh, no, Madame," replies the Lieutenant. "This is not the time for it. If I must tell you the truth, it is only a drinking-song I have been trying to remember of a young Englishman who was at Bonn with me; and Mademoiselle was so good this morning as to alter some of the words. But now?-a drinking-song in this fine, quiet country? No. After we have got to Kidderminster, and when we drive away after lunch, then Mademoiselle will play for you the air I did show to her, and I will sing you the song. All what is needed is that you drink some Rhine wine at Kidderminster to make you like the song."

"Kidderminster Rhine wine!" exclaims one of the party, with a groan. He knows that whatever is suggested now by the Lieutenant finds favor with a clear majority of the party.

"That was a very good young fellow," continues the Lieutenant, as we drive over a high slope, and come in view of a mass of manufactories. "Very big and strong he was; we did call him der grosse Engländer always; and one time, in the winter, when there was much snow, we had a supper-party at his room. We had many duels then, for we were only boys; but the Englishman was not supposed to be challenged, for he knew nothing of our swords, but he was always ready to fight with his fists for all that. And this evening, I am afraid we did drink too much beer, and young Schweitzer of Magdeburg -he died at Königgrätz, the unfortunate, in '66-he was very angry with the Engländer for laughing at his sweetheart, who was but a young lady in a school there. And he challenged the Englishman, and went up to him, and said he would not go away until there was a fight; and do you know what your countryman did? He lifted Schweitzer up in his arms, like a baby, and carried him down the stairs, and opened the door, and put him in the snow outside, very gently. There was so much laughing over that, that we all said it was very good; and Schweitzer was grown sober by the cool of the snow, and he laughed too, and I think they swore brüderschaft about it afterwards. Oh, he was a very clever fellow, your countryman, and had more delight in our songs than any German I ever knew. But you know how that is ?"

Madame said it was no wonder any one should be in love with the German songs; but the Lieutenant shook his head.

"That is not it at all-no. This is itthat when you know only a little of a language, you do not know what is commonplace in it. The simple phrase which is commonplace to others is all full of meaning to you. So I find it with your English. You would laugh if I told you that I find much meaning in poetry that you think only good for children, and in oldfashioned writing, which looks affected now. Because, Madame, is it not true that all commonplace phrases meant some new thing at one time? It is only my ignorance that I do not know they have grown old and worth little. Now the evening at Twickenham I did hear you go over the names of old-fashionable Engligh songs, and much fun was made of the

poetry. But to me, that was very good-
a great deal of it- because nothing in
English is to me commonplace as yet."
"How fortunate you must be," says one
of us with a sigh.

"You laugh when you say, 'Flow on, thou shining river! Why? The river flows: and it shines. I see a clear picture out of the words-like the man who wrote them; I am not accustomed to them so as to think them stupid. Then I saw you laugh when some one said, 'I dreamt that I dwelt in marble halls. I did read that song; and although it is stupid that the man thinks he will live in marble halls, I found much tenderness in it. So with this young Englishman. He knew nothing of what was commonplace in our language. If you gave him children's rhymes, he looked at the meaning, and judged it all by that. And when we showed him stiff, artificial verses of old times, he seemed to go back to the time when they were written, and believe much in them, and like them. That is a very good thing in ignorance, I think-when you know not much of a language, and every word has much meaning in it, and there is no commonplace anywhere."

This lecture of the Lieutenant took us into Kidderminster. What married man is not familiar with this name-held up to him as an awful threat in reply to his grumblings about the price of Turkey and Brussels carpets? As we drove into the busy town, signs of the prevailing manufacture were everywhere apparent in the large red-brick factories. We put up at the "Lion," and while Von Rosen went off to buy himself a new pair of boots, we went for a stroll up to the interesting old church, the fine brasses and marble monuments of which have drawn many a stranger to the spot. Then we climbed to the top of the tower, and from the zinc roof thereof had a spacious view over the level and wooded country, which was deeply streaked by bands of purple, where the clouds threw their shadows. Far below us lay the red, busy, smoky town set amid green fields; while the small river ran through it like a black snake, for the bed had been drained, and in the dark mud a multitude of boys could be seen wading, scooping about for eels. When we descended, Von Rosen had got his boots, and was prowling about the churchyard, reading the curious inscriptions

there. One of them informed the world of the person laid beneath that, "added to the character of a Gentleman, his actions were coeval with his Integrity, Hospitality, and Benevolence." But our amiable guide, who had pointed out to us all the wonderful features of Kidderminster and its neighborhood, evidently looked on one particular gravestone as the chief curiosity of the place; for this, he informed us, was placed over a man who had prepared the vault and the inscription ten years before his death. Here is the le

gend:

"To the Memory of JOHN ORTON,

A MAN FROM LEICESTERSHIRE, And when he is dead he must lie under

HERE."

A

The man from Leicestershire was not "alone among mortals" in anticipating his end in this fashion; but no matter. man may well be allowed to humor himself in the way of a tombstone; it is the last favor he can ask from the world.

"Now," said the Lieutenant, as we drove away from this manufacturing town into the fresh country again, "shall I sing you. the song which the young Englishman used to sing for us; or shall we wait until the evening ?"

"Now, by all means," said Bell; "and if you will be so good as to give me out the guitar, I will try to play you an accompaniment."

"A guitar accompaniment to a drinking-song!" says Titania.

"Oh, but this is not a drinking-song, exactly, Madame-it is a very moral song; and we shall discuss each verse as it goes along, and you will make alterations of it."

So he got out the guitar. We were now far from away any houses-all around us great woods, that lay dark and green under a clouded afternoon sky. The road was very hilly; and sometimes, from the summit of a great height, we caught a glimpse of a long western stretch of country, lying blue and misty under the gray sky. Behind us Kidderminster looked like a dusky red splotch in a plain of green; and all around it the meadows and fields were low and intense in color. But then in the west we could see an occasional glimpse of yellow in the pall of cloud; and we hoped the sunset would break through the veil.

'Ladies and gentlemen," said the Lieutenant, "the song I am about to sing to you”

Here Bell began to play a light prelude; and without further introduction our Uhlan startled the silence of the woods and fields by singing, in a profound and melancholy voice, the first two verses of the ballad composed by the young Englishman at Bonn, which ran somewhat as follows:

"Oh, Burgundy isn't a good thing to drink, Young man, I beseech you, consider and think, Or else in your nose, and likewise in your toes, You'll discover the color of Burgundy rose: Burgundy rose, Burgundy rose,

A dangerous symptom is Burgundy rose. ""Tis a very nice wine, and as mellow as milk, 'Tis a very nice color, in satin or silk; But you'll change your opinion as soon as it shows

In a halo around the extreme of your nose;
Burgundy rose, Burgundy rose,

Is a very bad thing at the tip of your toes."

"Well, Madame, how do you like it so far as we have got ?" says the Lieutenant, as Bell is extemporizing a somewhat wild variation of the air.

"I think your young English friend gave you very good advice; and I have no doubt the students needed it very much."

"But you shall hear what he says; he was not a teetotaler at all."

And therewith the Lieutenant continued:

"If tipple you must, in beer, spirits, or wine, There are wholesome vintages hail from the Rhine;

And, take the advice of a fellow who knows,
Hochheimer's as gentle as any that goes-

Burgundy rose, Burgundy rose,

Doth never appear from the wine I propose. "Oh, Burgundy isn't a good thing to drink, Young man, I beseech you, consider and think, Or else in your nose, and likewise in your toes, You'll discover the color of Burgundy rose:

Burgundy rose, Burgundy rose, A fatal affliction is Burgundy rose!" "Oh, you two scapegraces!" cried Queen Titania. "I know now why you were laying your heads together this morning, and poring over that sheet of paper; you were engaged in perverting an honest and well-intentioned song into recommendation of German wines. I am sure that third verse is not in the original. I am certain the young English student never wrote it. It was written in Worcester this very morning; and I call on you

to produce the original, so that we may cut out this very bad moral that has been introduced."

"The original, Madame ?" said the Lieutenant, gravely. "There is no original. I have repeated it most from memory as he used to sing it at Bonn-and I put it down on paper only that Mademoiselle might correct me about the words. No-I have put in no moral. You think your countryman did not like the Rhine wines? Pfui!-you should have seen him drink them then, if he did not like them! And the very dear ones, too, for he had plenty of money; and we poor devils of the Germans used to be astonished at his extravagance, and sometimes he was called 'milord' for a joke. When we did go to his room to the supper-parties, we could not believe that any young man not come of age should have so much money given to him by his parents. But it did not spoil him one bit; he was as good, frank, careless as any man, and when he did get to know the language better he worked hard, and had such notes of the lectures as not any one, I think, in the whole university had."

A strange thing now occurred. We were driving along level and wooded lanes, running parallel with the Severn. The small hamlets we passed, merely two or three houses smothered in elms, are appropriately named greens-Fen Green, Dodd's Green, Bard's Green, and the like; and on either side of us were lush meadows, with the cattle standing deep in the grass. Now all at once that long bar of glimmering yellow across the western clouds burst asunder; and at the same moment a glare of light shone along the southern sky, where there was evidently abundant rain. We had no sooner turned to look at this flood of golden mist, than all around us there was a stir in the hedges and the tall elms by the roadside -we were enveloped in sunshine; with it came a quick pattering on the leaves; and then we found the air glittering with white drops and slanting streaks. In the wild glare of the sunlight the shower shone and sparkled around us, and the heavier it fell until the sound of it was like the hissing of the sea on a pebbly beach-the more magical grew the effects of the mingled light and wet. Nor was it a passing shower merely. The air was still filled with the gleaming lines of the rain,

the sunlight still shone mistily through it and lit up the green meadows and the trees with a wonderful radiance, as we wrapt cloaks round our companions and drove leisurely on. It was impossible to think that this luminous rain could wet us like ordinary rain. But by and by it drew itself off; and then Bell, with a sudden little cry, besought the Lieutenant to pull up the horses.

Had we driven under a cloud and escaped at the other edge? Close behind us there was still mingled rain and sunlight; but beyond that again the sky was heaped up with immense dark-blue masses. A rainbow shone in front of this black background. A puff of white cloud ran across the darkness, telling of contrary winds. And then when we turned from this gleaming and glowing picture to continue our course, lo! all the west had cleared, and a great dim smoke of yellow lay over the land, where the sky came down.

"It is like the sea, is it not ?" said Bell, rising up in the phaeton and steadying herself to look into this distant world of gold. "Don't you expect to find the masts of ships and sea-birds flying about out there ?"

And then in the cool and fresh evening, with the dusk coming on, we drove up the valley of the Severn, by Quat and Quatford, toward our resting-place for the night. As we passed by Quatford Castle, the river, lying amid the dark meadows, had caught a glow of crimson fire from the last reflection of the sunset. A blue mist lay about the sides of the abrupt hill on which the town of Bridgenorth is pitched; but as we wound round the hill to gain the easiest ascent, we came again into the clear, metallic glow of the west. It was a hard pull on the horses, just at the end of their day's work, was this steep and circuitous ascent; but at length we got into the rough streets of the old town, and in the fading twilight sought out the yellow and comfortable glow of the Crown Hotel.

We had got in passing a vague glimpse of a wide space around an old town-house, with a small crowd of people collecting. They had come to hear the playing of a Volunteer band. Therefore, as we sat down to dinner, we had some very good, music being played to us from without; and when at last it was gone, and the quaint old town on the top of the hill left

to its ordinary silence, we found it was time to light our cigars and open the bézique-box.

Probably no one noticed it; but it is a curious circumstance that Bell had apparently forgotten all about her determination to write to Arthur. There was no shadow of a cloud on her face, and she enjoyed the winning of various games-assisted thereto by the obvious ministrations of the Lieutenant-with as much delight and careless amusement as though there was not anywhere in the world a young man sitting in his solitary chamber and wishing that he had never been born. But it was certainly not hard-heartedness that gave to Bell the enjoyment of that one evening.

CHAPTER XIV.

"But (trust me, gentles!) never yet
Was dight a masquing half so neat,
Or half so rich before;

The country lent the sweet perfumes,
The sea the pearl, the sky the plumes,

The town its silken store.'

THE Lieutenant was pensive. He and I had gone out for a turn before breakfast, and wandered on to the high promenade which, skirting one portion of the lofty town, looked down into the valley of the Severn, the huddled houses underneath the rocky height, and the bridge spanning the stream. It was a bright and cool morning; and the landscape that lay around was shining in the sun.

"England," he said, leaning his arms on the stone parapet of the walk, "is a very pleasant country to live in, I think."

I thanked him for the compliment. "You are very free in your actions here; you do what you please. Only consider how you are at this moment."

But I had to protest against our young Prussian friend continually regarding this excursion as the normal condition of our existence. I showed him that we were not always enjoying ourselves in this fashion; that a good deal of hard work filled the long interval of the winter months; and that even Bell-whom he had grown to regard as a sort of feature of English scenery a wild bird forever on the wing through sunlight and green leaves-worked as hard as any of us.

"It is pleasant to be able to play dexterously on the piano, or the guitar, or what not, but that accomplishment means imprisonment with hard labor stretching over years. It is very nice to be able to NEW SERIES.-VOL. XVI., No. 1.

put on a sheet of paper, with a few rapid touches, the outlines of a scene which delights you, and to find yourself able to reproduce this afterwards in water or oil, and have it publicly exhibited and sold; but do you know how much work it involves? Bell is a most untiring young woman, I promise you, and not likely to fall asleep in counting her fingers."

"Oh, I am sure of that," he said, absently. "She has too much spirit, too much life, to be indolent. But I was thinking whether, if a man was to change his country, he would choose England out of all the other countries to live in. Here it is. Your people in England who only enjoy themselves must be very rich, must they not? Is it a good country, I wonder, for a man who would have about £800 a year?"

"Not without some occupation. But why do you ask ?”

He only stared at the bushes down below us on the rocks, and at the river far below them.

"What would you say," he asked suddenly, "if I were to come and live in England, and become naturalized, and never to go back to my native country again ?" "And give up your profession with all its interest and excitement ?"

He was silent for a minute or two; and. then he said

"I have done more than the service that is expected from every man in Prussia; and I do not think my country goes to war for many years to come. About the excitement of a campaign and the go-ing into battle-well, there is much mistake about that. You are not always in enthusiasm; the long marches, the wet days, the waiting for months in one place

there is nothing heroic in that. And when you do come to the battle itselfcome, my dear friend, I will tell you some-thing about that."

He seemed to wake up then. He rose from his recumbent position and took a look round the shining country that lay along the valley of the Severn.

"All the morning before the battle," said the Lieutenant, "you have great gloom;. and it seems as if the day is dark over head. But this is strange-that you think. you can see very far, and you can see all your friends in Germany, and think you could almost speak to them. You expect to go forward to meet the enemy;

5

« AnteriorContinuar »