Chapter II: The Weather-cross (1)

The next morning Richard was out with the early larks, and returned after a few hours in a peculiar frame of mind. As he was entering his room, he saw through the open door his father standing in the saloon. Herr Frank was carefully examining the arrangements, as the servants were carrying books into the adjoining room and placing them in a bookcase. Richard, as he passed, greeted his father briefly, contrary to his usual custom. At other times he used to exchange a few words with his father when he bid him good-morning, and he let no occasion pass of giving his opinion on any matter in which he knew his father took an interest.

The young man walked to the open window of his room, and gazed into the distance. He remained motionless for a time. He ran his fingers through his hair, and with a jerk of the head threw the brown locks back from his forehead. He walked restlessly back and forth, and acted like a man who tries in vain to escape from thoughts that force themselves upon him. At length he went to the piano, and beat an impetuous impromptu on the keys.

"Ei, Richard!" cried Herr Frank, whom the wild music had brought to his side. "Why, you rave! How possessed! One would think you had discovered a roaring cataract in the mountains, and wished to imitate its violence."

Richard glanced quickly at his father, and finished with a tender, plaintive melody.

"Come over here and look at the rooms."

Richard followed his father and examined carelessly the elegant rooms, and spoke a few cold words of commendation.

"And what do you say to this flora?" said Herr Frank pointing to a stepped framework on which bloomed the most beautiful and rare flowers.

"All very beautiful, father. The doctor will be much pleased, as he always is here."

"I wish and hope so. I have had the peacocks and turkeys sent away, because Klingenberg cannot endure their noise. The library here will always be his favorite object, and care has been taken with it. Here are the best books on all subjects, even theology and astronomy."

"Frankenhöhe is indeed cheerful as the heart of youth and quiet as a cloister," said Richard. "Your friend would indeed be ungrateful if this attention did not gratify him."

"I have also provided that excellent wine which he loves and enjoys as a healthful medicine. But, Richard, you know Klingenberg's peculiarities. You must not play as you did just now; you would drive the doctor from the house."

"Make yourself easy about that, father; I will play while he is on the mountain."

{642}

Richard took a book from the shelf, and glanced over it. Herr Frank left him, and he immediately replaced the book and returned to his own room. There he wrote in his diary:

"12th of May.--Man is too apt to be led by his inclination. And
what is inclination? A feeling caused by external impressions,
or superinduced by a disposition of the body. Inclination,
therefore, is something inimical to intellectual life. A vine
that threatens to overgrow and smother clear conviction. Never
act from inclination, if you do not wish to be unfaithful to
conviction and guilty of a weakness."

He went into the garden, where he talked to the gardener about trees and flowers.

"Are you acquainted in Salingen, John?"

"Certainly, sir. I was born there."

"Do strangers sometimes come there to stop and enjoy the beautiful neighborhood?"

"Oh! no, sir; there is no suitable hotel there--only plain taverns; and people of quality would not stop at them."

"Are there people of rank in Salingen?"

"Only farmers, sir. But---stay. The rich Siegwart appears to be such, and his children are brought up in that manner."

"Has Siegwart many children?"

"Four--two boys and two girls. One son is at college. The other takes care of the estate, and is at home. The oldest daughter has been at the convent for three years. She is now nineteen years old. The second is still a child."

Richard went further into the garden; he looked over at Salingen, and then at the mountains. His eye followed a path that went winding up the mountain like a golden thread and led to the top. Then his eye rested for a time on a particular spot in that yellow path. Richard remained taciturn and reserved the rest of the day. He sat in his room and tried to read, but the subject did not interest him. He often looked dreamily from the book. He finally arose, took his hat and cane, and was soon lost in the mountain. The next morning Richard went to the borders of the forest, and looked frequently over at Salingen as it lay in rural serenity before him. The pleasant hamlet excited his interest. He then turned to the right and pursued the yellow path which he had examined the day before, up the mountain. The birds sang in the bushes, and on the branches of the tallest oak perched the black-bird whose morning hymn echoed far and wide. The sweet notes of the nightingale joined in the general concert, and the shrill piping of the hawk struck in discordantly with the varied and beautiful song. Even unconscious nature displayed her beauties. The dew hung in great drops on the grass-blades and glittered like so many brilliants, and wild flowers loaded the air with sweet perfumes. Richard saw little of these beauties of spring. He ascended still higher. His mind seemed agitated and burdened. He had just turned a bend in the road when he saw a female figure approaching. His cheeks grew darker as his eyes rested on the approaching figure. He gazed in the distance, and a disdainful flush overspread his face. He approached her as he would approach an enemy whose power he had felt, and whom he wished to conciliate.

She was within fifty paces of him. Her blue dress fell in heavy folds about her person. The ribbons of her straw bonnet, that hung on her arm, fluttered in the breeze. In her left hand she held a bunch of flowers. On her right arm hung a silk mantle, which the mild air had rendered unnecessary. {643} Her full, glossy hair was partly in a silk net and partly plaited over the forehead and around the head, as is sometimes seen with children. Her countenance was exquisitely beautiful, and her light eyes now rested full and clear on the stranger who approached her. She looked at him with the easy, natural inquisitiveness of a child, surprised to meet such an elegant gentleman in this place.

Frank looked furtively at her, as though he feared the fascinating power of the vision that so lightly and gracefully passed him. He raised his hat stiffly and formally. This was necessary to meet the requirement of etiquette. Were it not, he would perhaps have passed her by without a salutation. She did not return his greeting with a stiff bow, but with a friendly "good-morning;" and this too in a voice whose sweetness, purity, and melody harmonized with the the beautiful echoes of the morning.

Frank moved on hastily for some distance. He was about to look back, but did not do so; and continued on his way, with contracted brows, till a turn in the road hid her from his view. Here he stopped and wiped the sweat from his forehead, His heart beat quickly, and he was agitated by strong emotions. He stood leaning on his cane and gazing into the shadows of the forest. He then continued thoughtfully, and ascended some hundred feet higher till he gained the top of the mountain. The tall trees ceased; a variegated copsewood crowned the summit, which formed a kind of platform. Human hands had levelled the ground, and on the moss that covered it grew modest little violets. Near the border of the platform stood a stone cross of rough material. Near this cross lay the fragments of another large rock, that might have been shattered by lightning years before. A few steps back of this, on two square blocks of stone, stood a statue of the Virgin and Child, of white stone very carefully wrought, but without much art. The Virgin had a crown of roses on her head. The Child held a little bunch of forget-me-nots in its hand, and as it held them out seemed to say, "Forget me not," Two heavy vases that could not be easily overturned by the wind, standing on the upper block, also contained flowers. All these flowers were quite fresh, as if they had just been placed there.

Richard examined these things, and wondered what they meant in this solitude of the mountain. The fresh flowers and the cleanliness of the statue, on which no dust or moss could be seen, indicated a careful keeper. He thought of the young woman whom he met. He had seen the same kind of flowers in her hand, and doubtless she was the devotee of the place.

Scarcely had his thoughts taken this direction when he turned away and walked to the border of the plot, and gazed at the country before him. He looked down toward Frankenhöhe, whose white chimneys appeared above the chestnut grove. He contemplated the plains with their luxuriant fields reflecting every shade of green--the strips of forests that lay like shadows in the sunny plain--numberless hamlets with church towers whose gilded crosses gleamed in the sun. He gazed in the distance where the mountain ranges vanished in the mist, and long he enjoyed the magnificence of the view. He was aroused from his dreamy contemplation by the sound of footsteps behind him.

{644}

An old man with a load of wood on his shoulders came up to the place. Breathing heavily, he threw down the wood and wiped the sweat from his face. He saw the stranger, and respectfully touched his cap as he sat down on the wood.

Frank went to him.

"You are from Salingen, I suppose," he began

"Yes, sir."

"It is very hard for an old man like you to carry such a load so far."

"It is indeed, but I am poor and must do it."

Frank looked at the patched clothes of the old man, his coarse shoes, his stockingless feet, and meagre body, and felt compassion for him.

"For us poor people the earth bears but thistles and thorns." After a pause, the old man continued, "We have to undergo many tribulations and difficulties, and sometimes we even suffer from hunger. But thus it is in the world. The good God will reward us in the next world for our sufferings in this."

These words sounded strangely to Richard. Raised as he was in the midst of wealth, and without contact with poverty, he had never found occasion to consider the lot of the poor; and now the resignation of the old man, and his hope in the future, seemed strange to him. He was astonished that religion could have such power--so great and strong--to comfort the poor in the miseries of a hopeless, comfortless life.

"But what if your hope in another world deceive you?"

The old man looked at him with astonishment.

"How can I be deceived? God is faithful. He keeps his promises."

"And what has he promised you?"

"Eternal happiness if I persevere, patient and just, to the end."

"I wonder at your strong faith!"

"It is my sole possession on earth. What would support us poor people, what would keep us from despair, if religion did not?"

Frank put his hand into his pocket.

"Here," said he, "perhaps this money will relieve your wants."

The old man looked at the bright thalers in his hand, and the tears trickled down his cheeks.

"This is too much, sir; I cannot receive six thalers from you."

"That is but a trifle for me; put it in your pocket, and say no more about it."

"May God reward and bless you a thousand times for it!"

"What does that cross indicate?"

"That is a weather cross, sir. We have a great deal of bad weather to fear. We have frequent storms here, in summer; they hang over the mountain and rage terribly. Every ravine becomes a torrent that dashes over the fields, hurling rocks and sand from the mountain. Our fields are desolated and destroyed. The people of Salingen placed that cross there against the weather. In spring the whole community come here in procession and pray God to protect them from the storms."

Richard reflected on this phenomenon; the confidence of these simple people in the protection of God, whose omnipotence must intervene between the remorseless elements and their victims, appeared to him as the highest degree of simplicity. But he kept his thoughts to himself, for he respected the religious sentiments of the old man, and would not hurt his feelings.

"And the Virgin, why is she there?"

"Ah! that is a wonderful story, sir," he answered, apparently wishing to evade an explanation.

"Which every one ought not to know?"

"Well--but perhaps the gentleman would laugh, and I would not like that!"

{645}

"Why do you think I would laugh at the story?"

"Because you are a gentleman of quality, and from the city, and such people do not believe any more in miracles."

This observation of rustic sincerity was not pleasing to Frank. It expressed the opinion that the higher classes ignore faith in the supernatural.

"If I promise you not to laugh, will you tell me the story?"

"I will; you were kind to me, and you can ask the story of me. About thirty years ago," began the old man after a pause, "there lived a wealthy farmer at Salingen whose name was Schenck. Schenck was young. He married a rich maiden and thereby increased his property. But Schenck had many great faults. He did not like to work and look after his fields. He let his servants do as they pleased, and his fields were, of course, badly worked and yielded no more than half a crop. Schenck sat always in the tavern, where he drank and played cards and dice. Almost every night he came home drunk. Then he would quarrel with his wife, who reproached him. He abused her, swore wickedly, and knocked everything about the room, and behaved very badly altogether. Schenck sank lower and lower, and became at last a great sot. His property was soon squandered. He sold one piece after another, and when he had no more property to sell, he took it into his head to sell himself to the devil for money. He went one night to a cross-road and called the devil, but the devil would not come; perhaps because Schenck belonged to him already, for the Scripture says, 'A drunkard cannot enter the kingdom of heaven.' At last a suit was brought against him, and the last of his property was sold, and he was driven from his home. This hurt Schenck very much, for he always had a certain kind of pride. He thought of the past times when he was rich and respected, and now he had lost all respect with his neighbors. He thought of his wife and his four children, whom he had made poor and miserable. All this drove him to despair. He determined to put an end to himself. He bought a rope and came up here one morning to hang himself. He tied the rope to an arm of the cross, and had his head in the noose, when all at once he remembered that he had not yet said his three "Hail! Marys." His mother who was dead had accustomed him, when a child, to say every day three "Hail! Marys." Schenck had never neglected this practice for a single day. Then he took his head out of the noose and said, 'Well, as I have said the "Hail! Marys" every day, I will say them also to-day, for the last time.' He knelt down before the cross and prayed. When he was done, he stood up to hang himself. But he had scarcely stood on his feet when he was snatched up by a whirlwind and carried through the air till he was over a vineyard, where he fell without hurting himself. As he stood up, an ugly man stood before him and said, 'This time you have escaped me, but the next time I will get you.' The ugly man had horses' hoofs in place of feet, and wore green clothes. He disappeared before Schenck's eyes. Schenck swears that this ugly man was the devil. He declares also that he has to thank the Mother of God, through whose intercession he escaped the claws of the devil. Schenck had that statue placed there in memory of his wonderful escape--and that is why the Mother of God is there."

{646}

"A wonderful story indeed!" said Richard. "Although I do not laugh at it, as you see, yet I must assure you that I do not believe the story."

"I thought so," answered the old man. "But you can ask Schenck himself. He is still living, and is now seventy. Since that day he has changed entirely. He drinks nothing but water. He never enters a tavern, but goes every day to church. From that time to this Schenck has been very industrious, and has saved a nice property."

"That the drunkard reformed is the most remarkable and best part of the story," said Frank. "Drunkards very seldom reform. But," continued he smiling, "the devil acted very stupidly in the affair. He should have known that his appearance would have made a deep impression on the man, and that he would not let himself be caught a second time."

"That is true," said the old man. "But I believe the devil was forced to appear and speak so."

"Forced? By whom?"

"By Him before whom the devils must believe and tremble. Schenck was to understand that God delivered him on account of his pious custom, and the devil had to tell him that this would not happen a second time."

"How prudent you are in your superstition!" said Frank.

"As the gentleman has been kind to me, it hurts me to hear him speak so."

"Now," said Richard quickly, "I would not hurt your feelings. One may be a good Christian without believing fables. And the flowers near the statue. Has Schenck placed them there too?"

"Oh! no--the Angel did that."

"The Angel. Who is that?" said Frank, surprised.

"The Angel of Salingen--Siegwart's angel."

"Ah! angel is Angela, is it not?"

"So she may be called. In Salingen they call her only Angel. And she is indeed as lovely, good, and beautiful as an angel. She has a heart for the poor, and she gives with an open hand and a smiling face that does one good. She is like her father, who gives me as many potatoes as I want, and seed for my little patch of ground."

"Why does Angela decorate this statue?"

"I do not know; perhaps she does it through devotion."

"The flowers are quite fresh; does she come here every day?"

"Every day during the month of May, and no longer."

"Why no longer?"

"I do not know the reason; she has done so for the last two years, since she came home from the convent, and she will do so this year."

"As Siegwart is so good to the poor, he must be rich."

"Very rich--you can see from his house. Do you see that fine building there next to the road? That is the residence of Herr Siegwart."

It was the same building that had arrested Richard's attention as he passed it some days before, and the sight of which had excited the ill-humor of his father. Richard returned by a shorter way to Frankenhöhe. He was serious and meditative. Arrived at home, he wrote in his diary:

"May 13th.--Well, I have seen her. She exhibits herself as the
'Angel of Salingen.' She is extremely beautiful. She is full of
amiability and purity of character. And to-day she did not wear
that detestable crinoline. But she will have other foibles in
place of it. She will, in some things at least, yield to the
superficial tendencies of her sex. Isabella was an ideal, until
she descended from the height where my imagination, deceived by
her charms, had placed her. The impression which Angela's
appearance produced has rests on the same
foundation--deception. A better acquaintance will soon discover
this. Curious! I long to become better acquainted!

{647}

"Religion is not a disease or hallucination, as many think. It
is a power. Religion teaches the poor to bear their hard lot
with patience. It comforts and keeps them from despair. It
directs their attention to an eternal reward, and this hope
compensates them for all the afflictions and miseries of this
life. Without religion, human society would fall to pieces."

A servant entered, and announced dinner.

"Ah Richard!" said Herr Frank good-humoredly. "Half an hour late for dinner, and had to be called! That is strange; I do not remember such a thing to have happened before. You are always as punctual as a repeater."

"I was in the mountain and had just returned."

"No excuse, my son. I am glad the neighborhood diverts you, and that you depart a little from your regularity. Now everything is in good order, as I desired, for my friend and deliverer. I have just received a letter from him. He will be here in two days. I shall be glad to see the good man again. If Frankenhöhe will only please him for a long time!"

"I have no doubt of that," said Richard. "The doctor will be received like a friend, treated like a king, and will live here like Adam and Eve in paradise."

"Everything will go on as formerly. I will be coming and going on account of business. You will, of course, remain uninterruptedly at Frankenhöhe. You are high in the doctor's esteem. You interest him very much. It is true you annoy him sometimes with your unlearned objections and bold assertions. But I have observed that even vexation, when it comes from you, is not disagreeable to him."

"But the poor should not annoy him with their sick," said Richard. "He never denies his services to the poor, as he never grants them to the rich. Indeed, I have sometimes observed that he tears himself from his books with the greatest reluctance, and it is not without an effort that he does it."

"But we cannot change it," said Herr Frank; "we cannot send the poor away without deeply offending Klingenberg. But I esteem him the more for his generosity."

After dinner the father and son went into the garden and talked of various matters; suddenly Richard stopped and pointing over to Salingen, said,

"I passed to-day that neat building that stands near the road. Who lives there?"

"There lives the noble and lordly Herr Siegwart," said Herr Frank derisively.

His tone surprised Richard. He was not accustomed to hear his father speak thus.

"Is Siegwart a noble?"

"Not in the strict sense. But he is the ruler of Salingen. He rules in that town as absolutely as princes formerly did in their kingdoms."

"What is the cause of his influence?"

"His wealth, in the first place; secondly, his charity; and lastly, his cunning."

"You are not favorable to him?"

"No, indeed! The Siegwart family is excessively ultramontane and clerical. You know I cannot endure these narrow prejudices and this obstinate adherence to any form of religion. Besides, I have a particular reason for disagreement with Siegwart, of which I need not now speak."

{648}

"Excessively ultramontane and clerical!" thought Richard, as he went to his room. "Angela is undoubtedly educated in this spirit. Stultifying confessionalism and religious narrow-mindedness have no doubt cast a deep shadow over the 'angel.' Now--patience; the deception will soon banish."

He took up Schlosser's History, and read a long time. But his eyes wandered from the page, and his thoughts soon followed.

The next morning at the same hour Richard went to the weather cross. He took the same road and again he met Angela; she had the same blue dress, the same straw hat on her arm, and flowers in her hand. She beheld him with the same clear eyes, with the same unconstrained manner--only, as he thought, more charming--as on the first day. He greeted her coolly and formally, as before. She thanked him with the same affability. Again the temptation came over him to look back at her; again he overcame it. When he came to the statue, he found fresh flowers in the vases. The child Jesus had fresh forget-me-nots in his hand, and the Mother had a crown of fresh roses on her head. On the upper stone lay a book, bound in blue satin and clasped with a silver clasp. When he took it up, he found beneath it a rosary made of an unknown material, and having a gold cross fastened at the end. He opened the book. The passage that had been last read was marked with a silk ribbon. It was as follows:

"My son, trust not thy present affection; it will be quickly
changed into another. As long as thou livest thou art subject
to change, even against thy will; so as to be sometimes joyful,
at other times sad; now easy, now troubled; at one time devout,
at another dry; sometimes fervent, at other times sluggish; one
day heavy, another day lighter. But he that is wise and well
instructed in spirit stands above all these changes, not
minding what he feels in himself, nor on what side the wind of
instability blows; but that the whole bent of his soul may
advance toward its due and wished-for end; for thus he may
continue one and the self-same without being shaken, by
directing without ceasing, through all this variety of events,
the single eye of his intention toward me. And by how much more
pure the eye of the intention is, with so much greater
constancy mayest thou pass through these divers storms.

"But in many the eye of pure intention is dark; for men quickly
look toward something delightful that comes in their way. And
it is rare to find one who is wholly free from all blemish of
self-seeking."

Frank remembered having written about the same thoughts in his diary. But here they were conceived in another and deeper sense.

He read the title of the book. It was _The Following of Christ_.

He copied the title in his pocketbook. He then with a smile examined the rosary, for he was not without prejudice against this kind of prayer.

He had no doubt Angela had left these things here, and he thought it would be proper to return them to the owner. He came slowly down the mountain reading the book. It was clear to him that _The Following of Christ_ was a book full of very earnest and profound reflections. And he wondered how so young a woman could take any interest in such serious reading. He was convinced that all the ladies he knew would throw such a book aside with a sneer, because its contents condemned their lives and habits. Angela, then, must be of a different character from all the ladies he knew, and he was very desirous of knowing better this character of Angela.

In a short time he entered the gate and passed through the yard to the stately building where Herr Siegwart dwelt. He glanced hastily at the long out-buildings--the large barns; at the polished cleanliness of the paved court, the perfect order of everything, and finally at the ornamented mansion. {649} Then he looked at the old lindens that stood near the house, whose trunks were protected from injury by iron railings. In the tops of these trees lodged a lively family of sparrows, who were at present in hot contention, for they quarrelled and cried as loud and as long as did formerly the lords in the parliament of Frankfort. The beautiful garden, separated from the yard by a low wall covered with white boards, did not escape him. Frank entered, upon a broad and very clean path; as his feet touched the stone slabs, he heard, through the open door, a low growl, and then a man's voice saying, "Quiet, Hector."

Frank walked through the open door into a large room handsomely furnished, and odoriferous with a multitude of flowers in vases. A man in the prime of life sat on the sofa reading and smoking. He wore a light-brown overcoat, brown trousers, and low, thick boots. He had a fresh, florid complexion, red beard, blue eyes, and an expressive, agreeable countenance. When Frank entered he arose, laid aside the paper and cigar, and approached the visitor.

"I found these things on the mountain near the weather-cross." said Frank, after a more formal than affable bow. "As your daughter met me, I presume they belong to her. I thought it my duty to return them."

"These things certainly belong to my daughter," answered Herr Siegwart. "You are very kind, sir. You have placed us under obligations to you."

"I was passing this way," said Frank briefly.

"And whom have we the honor to thank?"

"I am Richard Frank."

Herr Siegwart bowed. Frank noticed a slight embarrassment in his countenance. He remembered the expressions his father had used in reference to the Siegwart family, and it was clear to him that a reciprocal ill feeling existed here. Siegwart soon resumed his friendly manner, and invited him with much formality to the sofa. Richard felt that he must accept the invitation at least for a few moments. Siegwart sat on a chair in front of him, and they talked of various unimportant matters. Frank admired the skill which enabled him to conduct, without interruption, so pleasant a conversation with a stranger.

While they were speaking, some house-swallows flew into the room. They fluttered about without fear, sat on the open door, and joined their cheerful twittering with the conversation of the men. Richard expressed his admiration, and said he had never seen anything like it.

"Our constant guests in summer," answered Siegwart. "They build their nests in the hall, and as they rise earlier than we do, an opening is left for them above the hall door, where they can go in and out undisturbed when the doors are closed. Angela is in their confidence, and on the best of terms with them. When rainy or cold days come during breeding time they suffer from want of food. Angela is then their procurator. I have often admired Angela's friendly intercourse with the swallows, who perch upon her shoulders and hands."

Richard looked indeed at the twittering swallows, but their friend Angela passed before his eyes, so beautiful indeed that he no longer heard what Siegwart was saying.

He arose; Siegwart accompanied him. As they passed through the yard, Frank observed the long row of stalls, and said, "You must have considerable stock?"

{650}

"Yes, somewhat. If you would like to see the property, I will show you around with pleasure."

"I regret that I cannot now avail myself of your kindness; I shall do so in a few days," answered Frank.

"Herr Frank," said Siegwart, "may the accident which has given us the pleasure of your agreeable visit, be the occasion of many visits in future. I know that as usual you will spend the month of May at Frankenhöhe. We are neighbors--this title, in my opinion, should indicate a friendly intercourse."

"Let it be understood, Herr Siegwart; I accept with pleasure your invitation."

On the way to Frankenhöhe Richard walked very slowly, and gazed into the distance before him. He thought of the swallows that perched on Angela's shoulders and hands. Their sweet notes still echoed in his soul.

The country-like quiet of Siegwart's house and the sweet peace that pervaded it were something new to him. He thought of the simple character of Siegwart, who, as his father said, was "ultramontane and clerical," and whom he had represented to himself as a dark, reserved man. He found nothing in the open, natural manner of the man to correspond with his preconceived opinion of him. Richard concluded that either Herr Siegwart was not an ultramontane, or the characteristics of the ultramontanes, as portrayed in the free-thinking newspapers of the day, were erroneous and false.

Buried in such thoughts, he reached Frankenhöhe. As he passed through the yard, he did not observe the carriage that stood there. But as he passed under the window, he heard a loud voice, and some books were thrown from the window and fell at his feet. He looked down in surprise at the books, whose beautiful binding was covered with sand. He now observed the coach, and smiled.

"Ah! the doctor is here," said he. "He has thrown these unwelcome guests out of the window. Just like him."

He took up the books and read the titles, _Vogt's Pictures from Animal Life, Vogt's Physiological Letters, Colbe's Sensualism._

He took the books to his room and began to read them. Herr Frank, with his joyful countenance, soon appeared.

"Klingenberg is here!" said he.

"I suspected as much already," said Richard. "I passed by just as he threw the books out of the window with his usual impetuosity."

"Do not let him see the books; the sight of them sets him wild."

"Klingenberg walks only in his own room. I wish to read these books; what enrages him with innocent paper?"

"I scarcely know, myself. He examined the library and was much pleased with some of the works. But suddenly he tore these books from their place and hurled them through the window."

"'I tolerate no bad company among these noble geniuses,' said he, pointing to the learned works.

"'Pardon me, honored friend,' said I, 'if, without my knowledge, some bad books were included. What kind of writings are these, doctor?"

"'Stupid materialistic trash,' said he.' If I had Vogt, Moleschott, Colbe, and Büchner here, I would throw them body and bones out of the window.'

"I was very much surprised at this declaration, so contrary to the doctor's kind disposition.'What kind of people are those you have named?' said I.

{651}

"'No people, my dear Frank,' said he.' They are animals, This Vogt and his fellows have excluded themselves from the pale of humanity, inasmuch as they have declared apes, oxen, and asses to be their equals.'"

"I am now very desirous to know these books," said Richard.

"Well, do not let our friend know your intention," urged Frank.

Richard dressed and went to greet the singular guest. He was sitting before a large folio. He arose at Richard's entrance and paternally reached him both hands.

Doctor Klingenberg was of a compact, strong build. He had unusually long arms, which he swung back and forth in walking. His features were sharp, but indicated a modest character. From beneath his bushy eyebrows there glistened two small eyes that did not give an agreeable expression to his countenance. This unfavorable expression was, however, only the shell of a warm heart.

The doctor was good-natured--hard on himself, but mild in his judgments of others. He had an insatiable desire for knowledge, and it impelled him to severe studies that robbed him of his hair and made him prematurely bald.

"How healthy you look, Richard!" said he, contemplating the young man. "I am glad to see you have not been spoiled by the seething atmosphere of modern city life."

"You know, doctor, I have a natural antipathy to all swamps and morasses."

"That is right, Richard; preserve a healthy naturalness."

"We expected you this morning."

"And would go to the station to bring me. Why this ceremony? I am here, and I will enjoy for a few weeks the pure, bracing mountain air. Our arrangements will be as formerly--not so, my dear friend?"

"I am at your service."

"You have, of course, discovered some new points that afford fine views?"

"If not many, at least one--the weather cross," answered Frank. "A beautiful position. The hill stands out somewhat from the range. The whole plain lies before the ravished eyes. At the same time, there are things connected with _that_ place that are not without their influence on me. They refer to a custom of the ultramontanists that clashes with modern ideas; I will have an opportunity of seeing whether your opinion coincides with mine."

"Very well; since we have already an object for our next walk--and this is according to our old plan--tomorrow after dinner at three o'clock," and saying this he glanced wistfully at the old folio. Frank, smiling, observed the delicate hint and retired.

To Be Continued.

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Antiquities of New York.

It is as true of nations as it is of individuals that they "live more in the past and the future than in the present;" and when either are young and have a very limited past, their thoughts dwell most upon the future. This is one marked difference between the peoples of the old world and us on this continent. Our past is so small in comparison with theirs, that antiquarian societies, so common with them, are quite unknown among us, and it is not often that we throw our thoughts back.

Yet in that respect, as in others, we are daily improving, and we begin, now and then, to find something to think upon in the days of our forefathers.

These thoughts have arisen in our mind from having come across a book recently published by the State of New York: "Laws and Ordinances of New Netherlands, 1638-1674, compiled and translated from the original Dutch records in the office of the Secretary of State. Albany, N.Y. E.B. O'Callaghan." From that book a good deal can be learned of the manners and customs in our goodly city some two hundred years ago, that cannot fail to be interesting.

It was in 1621 that the States General of the United Netherlands incorporated a West India Company, with power to establish colonies in such parts of America as were not already occupied by other nations.

Under this authority, the company established a colony embracing the land from the present State of Maryland to the Connecticut River, and called NEW NETHERLAND.

The Amsterdam Chamber of the company exercised supreme government over this colony until 1664, when it was captured by the English, but recovered by the Dutch in 1673, but was finally ceded to the English.

It was in 1609 that Hendrik Hudson discovered the country, and in 1623 it was that the West India Company sent its first colony of families, who settled at what was then Fort Orange, now Albany, and settled a colony of families at New Amsterdam, now New York.

The colonial government, including legislative and executive powers, was administered by a director-general and council; and it is from the laws which they enacted that we can gather much knowledge of the manners and customs of our Dutch progenitors and from which we now proceed to make some extracts.

Slavery.

On the 7th of June, 1629, the West India Company granted what we would call a charter to all settlers in the new world, but which they called "freedoms and exemptions," to all patroons, masters, or private persons who would plant colonies in New Netherland.

They consisted of thirty-one articles; and among them was that which, if it may not be considered the origin, in this country, of that slavery which it took us some two hundred and fifty years to get rid of, was, by one of the articles, not only tolerated, but was actually established, with a covenant on the part of the home government to supply the settlers with slaves.

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Article XXX.

"The Company will use their endeavors to supply the colonists
with as many Blacks as they conveniently can, on the conditions
hereafter to be made, in such manner, however, that they shall
not be bound to do it for a longer time than they shall think
proper."

On the 19th of November, 1654, the Amsterdam board allowed the importation of negroes direct from Africa, by the ship Witte Paert, and on the 6th of August, 1655, the director-general and council of New Netherland imposed an _ad valorem_ duty of ten per cent on the exportation of any of the slaves brought in by that ship.

The Yankees.

The discord between the quiet, stolid Dutchmen of those days, and the restless "Yengees," of whom they had so much dread, soon began to show itself, and every once in a while we find a paper bomb-shell fired off at them, in the shape of a law, and hitting them in a tender spot, by forbidding trade.

Take this, the first instance:

"Ordinance
Of the Director and Council of New Netherland, prohibiting the
purchase of produce raised near Fort Hope.--Passed 3 April,
1642.

"Whereas our territory which we purchased, paid for, and took
possession of, provided in the year 1633 with a Blockhouse,
Garrison, and Cannon, on the Fresh River of _New
Netherland_, a long time before any Christians were in the
said river, hath now, for some years past, been forcibly
usurped by some englishmen, and given the name of Hartford,
notwithstanding we duly protested against them; who, moreover,
treat our people most barbarously, beating them with clubs and
mattocks even unto the shedding of blood; cut down our corn,
sow the fields by night which our people ploughed by day; haul
home by force the hay which was mowed by our people; cast our
ploughs into the river, and forcibly impound our horses, cows,
and hogs, so that no cruelty, insolence, nor violence remains
which is not practised toward us, who yet have treated them
with all moderation; Yea, even at great hazard, have redeemed
and sent back home their Women, who were carried off by the
Indians; And although we are commanded by the States-General,
his Highness of Orange, and the Honorable West India Company to
maintain our Limits and to assert our Right by every means,
which We, also, have the power to do, yet rather have We chose
patiently to suffer violence, and to prove by deeds that we are
better Christians than they who go about there clothed with
such outward show, until in its time the measure shall be
entirely full.

"Therefore, our order and command provisionally is, & We do
hereby Ordain that our Inhabitants of _New Netherland_ be
most expressly forbidden from purchasing, either directly or
indirectly, by the third or second shipment, or in any manner
whatsoever, any produce which has been raised on our land near
_Fort Hope_ on the Fresh River, on pain of arbitrary
correction, until their rights are acknowledged, and the
sellers of the produce which shall arrive from our _Fresh
River_ of _New Netherland_ and from _New England_
shall first declare upon oath where the produce has been grown,
whereof a certificate shall be given them, and thereupon every
one shall be at liberty to buy and to sell."

And finally the quarrel went so far as to give rise to the following

"Ordinance

Of the Governor-General and Council of New Netherland further
prohibiting the entertainment of Strangers, forbidding
intercourse or correspondence with the people of New
England.--Passed, 12 December, 1673.

"Whereas, it is found by experience that notwithstanding the
previously published Ordinance and Edicts, many Strangers, yea
enemies of this State, attempt to come within this government
without having previously obtained any consent or passport, and
have even presumed to show themselves within this city of
_New Orange_; also that many Inhabitants of this Province,
losing sight of and forgetting their Oath of Allegiance,
presume still daily to correspond, and exchange letters with
the Inhabitants of the neighboring colonies of _New
England_ and other enemies of this State, whence nothing
else can result but great prejudice and loss to this Province,
and it is, accordingly, necessary that seasonable provision be
made therein.

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"Therefore, the Governor-General of _New Netherland_, by
and with the advice of his Council, reviewing the aforesaid
Ordinances and Edicts enacted on that subject, have deemed it
highly necessary strictly to order and command that all
Strangers and others, of what nation or quality soever they may
be, who have not as yet bound themselves by Oath and promise of
fealty to the present Supreme government of this Province, and
have not been received by it as good subjects, do within the
space of four and twenty hours from the publication hereof
depart from out this province of New Netherland, and further
interdicting and forbidding any person, not being actually an
inhabitant and subject of this government, from coming within
this government without first having obtained due license and
passport to that end, on pain and penalty that the contraveners
shall not be considered other than open enemies and spies of
this State, and consequently be arbitrarily punished as an
example to others. And to the end that they may be the more
easily discovered and found out, all Inhabitants of this
Province are interdicted and forbidden from henceforth
harboring or lodging any strangers over night in their houses
or dwellings unless they have previously given due
communication thereof to their officer or Magistrate before
sun-down, under the penalty set forth in the former Edict.

"Furthermore, the Inhabitants of this Province are strictly
interdicted and forbidden, from this day forward, from holding
any correspondence with the neighboring Colonies of _New
England_, and all others actual enemies of our State, much
less afford them any supplies of any description, on pain of
forfeiting the goods and double the value thereof, likewise
from exchanging any letters, of what nature soever they may be,
without having obtained previous special consent thereto.
Therefore all messengers, skippers, travellers, together with
all others whom these may in any wise concern, are most
expressly forbidden to take charge of, much less to deliver,
any letters coming from the enemy's places, or going thither,
but immediately on their arrival to deliver them into the
Secretary's office here in order to be duly examined, on pain
of being fined One hundred guilders in Beaver, to be paid by
the receiver as well as by the deliverer of each letter which
contrary to the tenor hereof shall be exchanged or delivered."

Their Currency.

Gold and silver were scarce among them. The modern device of paper money had not then come in vogue, and so they had to use wampum--the Indians' currency or medium of exchange.

This was made from oyster-shells, and was worn by the natives as ornaments, and had no intrinsic value, but only a conventional one. And it seems to have been hard work to keep it up to its standard. Every body could make it that could catch oysters, and its plenty or scarcity causing a fluctuation of prices, gave them a great deal of trouble, especially when their old rock of offence, "the Yankees," began to manufacture it and buy away from them all they had to sell, for what was actually of no value.

So we find every once in a while "Ordinances" passed on the subject, which in their quaint and simple way show the state of things. Between April 18th, 1641, and December 28th, 1662, we find in this book twelve different ordinances on the subject; some of them fixing their value, some punishing frauds, some making them a legal tender, some declaring them merchandise, some providing that they shall be paid out by measure, some exempting them from import duty, and some providing for their depreciation.

The following extracts will afford an idea of their difficulties on the subject.

"Resolutions

Of the Director and Council of New Netherland respecting loose
Wampum.--Passed, 30 November, 1647.

"_Resolved_ and concluded in Council at _Fort
Amsterdam_, that, until further Order, the loose Wampum
shall continue current and in circulation only that, in the
mean while, all imperfect, broken, or unpierced beads can be
picked out, which are declared Bullion, and shall, meantime, be
received at the Company's counting-house as heretofore.
Provided that the Company, or any one on its part, shall, in
return, be at liberty to trade therewith among the Merchants or
otter Inhabitants, or in larger parcels, as may be agreed upon
and stipulated by any individual, or on behalf of the Company."

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"Ordinance
Of the Director and Council of _New Netherland_ further
regulating the currency.--Passed 14 September, 1650.

"The Director-General and Council of _New Netherland_, To
all those who hear, see, or read these presents, Greeting.
Whereas, on the daily complaints of the inhabitants, we
experience that our previous Ordinance and Edict relative to
the poor strung Wampum, published under date 30 May, A° 1650,
for the accommodation and protection of the people, is not
observed and obeyed according to our good intention and
meaning; but that, on the contrary, such pay, even for small
items, is rejected and refused by Shopkeepers, Brewers,
Tapsters, Tradespeople, and Laboring men, to the great
confusion and inconvenience of the Inhabitants in general,
there being, at present, no other currency whereby the
Inhabitants can procure from each other small articles of daily
trade; for which wishing to provide as much as possible, for
the relief and protection of the Inhabitants, the Director and
Council do hereby Ordain and command that, in conformity to our
previous Ordinance, the poor strung Wampum shall be current and
accepted by every one without distinction and exception for
small and daily necessary commodities required for
housekeeping, as currency to the amount of Twelve guilders and
under only, in poor strung wampum; of twelve to twenty-four
guilders half and half, that is to say, half poor strung and
half good strung Wampum; of twenty guilders to fifty guilders,
one third poor strung and two thirds good strung wampum, and in
larger sums according to the conditions agreed upon between
Buyer and Seller, under a penalty of six guilders for the first
time, to be forfeited on refusal by contraveneor hereof; for
the second time nine guilders, and for the third time two
pounds Flemish and stoppage of his trade and business, pursuant
to our previous Edicts.

"Thus done and enacted in Council by the Director and Council,
this 14 September, 1650, in _New Amsterdam_."

"Ordinance

Of the Director-General and Council of _New Netherland_
regulating the currency.--Passed 3 January, 1657.

"The Director-General and Council of New Netherland,

"To all those who see or hear these presents read, Greeting,
make known.

"Whereas they, to their great regret, are by their own
experience daily informed, and by the manifold complaints of
Inhabitants and Strangers importuned, respecting the great,
excessive and intolerable dearness of all sorts of necessary
commodities and household supplies, the prices of which are
enhanced from time to time, principally among other causes, in
consequence of the high price of Beaver and other Peltries in
this country beyond the value, which, by reason of the great
abundance of Wampum, is advanced to ten, eleven and twelve
guilders for one Beaver; And Wampum being, for want of Silver
and Gold coin, as yet the most general and common currency
between man and man, Buyer and Seller, domestic articles and
daily necessaries are rated according to that price, and become
dearer from time to time; the rather, as not only Merchants,
but also, consequently, Shopkeepers, Tradesmen, Brewers,
Bakers, Tapsters, and Grocers make a difference of 30, 40, to
50 per cent when they sell their wares for Wampum or for
Beaver. This tends, then, so far to the serious damage,
distress and loss of the common Mechanics, Brewers, Farmers and
other good Inhabitants of this Province, that the Superior and
inferior magistrates of this Province are blamed, abused and
cursed by Strangers and Inhabitants, and the Country in general
receives a bad name, while some greedy people do not hesitate
to sell the most necessary eatables and drinkables, according
to their insatiable avarice; viz., the can of Vinegar at 18 @
20 stivers; the can of Oil at 4 @ 5 guilders; the can of French
wine at 40 @ 45 stivers; the gill of Brandy at 15 stivers, and
two quarts of home brewed Beer, far above its price, at 14@15
stivers, &c., which the greater number endeavor to excuse on
the ground that they lose a great deal in the counting of the
Wampum; that it is partly short and partly long; that they must
give 11@12 and more guilders before they can convert the wampum
into Beaver."

So that, at last, the home government took it up, and in 1659 they wrote to the council at New Amsterdam, among other things:

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"From this particular reduction of the Wampum a second general
reduction must necessarily follow, if the depreciation thereof
is to be prevented. This arises in consequence of the great
importation of Wampum from New-England, which barters therewith
and carries out of the country not only the best cargoes sent
hence, but also a large quantity of beaver and other peltries,
whereby the Company is defrauded of its revenues and the
merchants here of good returns, while the Factors and
inhabitants there remain with chests full of Wampum, which is a
currency utterly valueless except among New Netherland Indians
only," etc.