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      THE OLD BACHELOR'S NIGHTCAP

       

      THERE is street in Copenhagen that has this strange name—“Hysken Str$de.”Whence comes this name and what is its meaning?It is said to be German;but injustice has been done to the Germans in this matter,for it would have to beH uschen”,and that means little housesFor here stood,once upon a time,and indeed for a great many years,a few little houses,which were little more than wooden booths,just as we see now in the marketplaces at fair-timeThey were,perhaps,a little larger,and had windows;but the panes were of horn or bladder,for glass was then too expensive to be used in every houseBut then we are speaking of a long time agoso long since,that grandfather's grandfather,when he talked about it,used to speak of it asthe old times”—in fact,it is several centuries ago

      The rich merchants in Bremen and Lübeck carried on trade with CopenhagenThey did not come here themselves,but sent their clerks,who lived in the wooden booths in the street of the small houses,and sold beer and spices

      The German beer was good,and there were many kinds of itBremen,and Pryssing,Emser,and even Brunswick mumm;and quantities of spices were soldsaffron,and aniseed,and ginger,and especially pepperYes,pepper was the chief article here;and so it happened that the German clerks got the nickname,“pepper gentry”;and there was a condition which they had to enter into at home,that they would not marry at Copenhagen,and many of them became very oldThey had to care for themselves,and to look after their own comforts,and to put out their own fireswhen they had any;and some of them became very solitary old boys,with eccentric ideas and eccentric habitsFrom them,all unmarried men who have attained a certain age are called in Denmarkpepper gentry”;and this must be derstood by all who wish to comprehend this history

      Thepepper gentlemanbecomes a butt for ridicule,and is told that he ought to put on his nightcap,draw it down over his eyes,and go to bedThe boys sing

      Cut,cut wood,

      Poor bachelor's a sorry elf;

      A nightcap goes with him to bed,

      And he must light his fire himself.”

      Yes,that's what they sing about thepepperer”—thus they make game of the poor bachelor and his nightcap,just because they know very little about eitherAh,that kind of nightcap no one should wish to earn!And why not?We shall hear

      In the old times the street of the small houses was not paved,and the people stumbled out of one hole into another,as in a neglected by-way;and it was narrow tooThe booths leaned side by side,and stood so close together that in the summer-time a sail was often stretched from one booth to its opposite neighbour,on which occasion the fragrance of pepper,saffron,and ginger became doubly powerfulBehind the counters young men were seldom seenThe clerks were generally old boys;but they did not look like what we should fancy them,manely,with wig,and nightcap,and plush smallclothes,and with waistcoat and coat buttoned up to the chinNo,grandfather's great-grandfather may look like that,and has been thus portrayed,but thepepper gentrydid not have the means to have their portraits taken;though,in-deed,it would be interesting now to have a picture of one of them,as he stood behind the counter or went to church on holy daysHis hat was highcrowned and broad-brimmed,and sometimes one of the youngest clerks would mount a featherThe woollen shirt was hidden behind a broad clean collar,the close jacket was buttoned up to the chin,and the cloak hung loose over it;and the trousers were tucked into the broadtoed shoes,for the clerks did not wear stockingsIn their girdles they carried a dinner-knife and spoon,and a larger knife was placed there also for the defense of the owner;and this weapon was often very necessaryJust so was Anthony,one of the oldest clerks,clad on high days and holy days,except that,instead of a highcrowned hat,he wore a low bonnet,and under it a knitted capa regular nightcap),to which he had grown so accustomed that it was always on his head;and he had two of themThe old fellow was a subject for a painterHe was as thin as a lath,had wrinkles about his eyes and mouth,and long bony fingers,and bushy grey eyebrows;over the left eye hung quite a tuft of hair,and that did not look very handsome,though it made him very noticeablePeople knew that he came from Bremen;but that was not his native place,though his master lived thereHis own native place was in Thuringia,the town of Eisenach,close by the WartburgOld Anthony did not speak much of this,but he thought of it all the more

      The old clerks in the street did not often come togetherEach one remained in his booth,which was closed early in the evening;and then it looked dark enough in the streetonly a faint glimmer of light forced its way through the little hornpane in the roof;and in the booth sat,generally on his bed,the old bachelor,his German hymnbook in his hand,singing an evening psalm;or he went about in the booth till late into the night,and busied himself about all sorts of thingsIt was certainly not an amusing lifeTo be a stranger in a strange land is a bitter lotnobody cares for you,unless you happen to get in anybody's way

      Often when it was dark night outside,with snow and rain,the place looked very gloomy and lonelyNo lamps were to be seen,with the exception of one solitary light hanging before the picture of the Virgin that was fastened against the wallThe plash of the water against the neighbouring rampart at the castle wharf could be plainly heardSuch evenings are long and dreary,unless people devise some employment for themselvesThere is not always packin or unpacking to do,nor can the scales be polished or paper bags be made continually;and,failing these,people should devise other employment for themselvesAnd that is just what old Anthony did;for he used to mend his clothes and put pieces on his bootsWhen he at last sought his couch he used from habit to keep his nightcap onHe drew it down a little closer;but soon he would push it up again,to see if the light had been properly extinguishedHe would touch it,press the wick together,and then lie down on the other side,and draw his night-cap down again;but then a doubt would come upon him,if every coal in the little fire-pan below had been properly deadened and put outa tiny spark might have been left burning,and might set fire to something and cause damageAnd therefore he rose from his bed,and crept down the ladder,for it could scarcely be called a stairAnd when he came to the firepan not a spark was to be discovered,and he might just go back againBut often,when he had gone half of the way back,it would occur to him that the shutters might not be securely fastened;yes,then his thin legs must carry him downstairs once moreHe was cold,and his teeth chattered in his mouth when he crept back again to bed;for the cold seems to become doubly severe when it knows it cannot stay much longerHe drew up the coverlet closer around him,and pulled down the nightcap lower over his brows,and turned his thoughts away from trade and from the labours of the dayBut that did not procure him agreeable entertainment;for now old thoughts came and put up their curtains,and these curtains have sometimes pins in them,with which one pricks oneself,and one cries outOh!”and they prick into one's flesh and burn so,that the tears sometimes come into one's eyes;and that often happened to old Anthonyhot tearsThe largest pearls streamed forth,and fell on the coverlet or on the floor,and then they sounded as if one of his heart-strings had brokenSometimes again they seemed to rise up in flame,illuminating a picture of life that never faded out of his heartIf he then dried his eyes with his nightcap,the tear and the picture were indeed crushed,but the source of the tears remained,it lay in his heartThe pictures did not come up in the order in which the scenes had occurred in reality,for very often the most painful would come together;then again the most joyful would come,but these had the deepest shadows of all

      The beech woods of Denmark are beautiful,but the woods of Thuringia arose far more beautiful in the eyes of AnthonyMore mighty and more venerable seemed to him the old oaks around the proud knightly castle,where the creeping plants hung down over the stony blocks of the rock;sweeter there bloomed the flowers of the appletree than in the Danish landThis he remembered very vividlyA glittering tear rolled down over his cheek;and in this tear he could plainly see two children playinga boy and a girlThe boy had red cheeks,and yellow curling hair,and honest blue eyesHe was the son of the rich merchant,little AnthonyhimselfThe little girl had brown eyes and black hair,and had a bright clever lookShe was the burgomaster's daughter MollyThe two were playing with an appleThey shook the apple,and heard the pips rattling in itThen they cut the apple in two,and each of them took a half;they divided even the pips,and ate them all but one,which the little girl proposed that they should lay in the earth

      Then you shall see,”she said,“what will come outIt will be something you don't at all expectA whole apple-tree will come out,but not directly.”

      And she put the pip in a flowerpot,and both were very busy and eager about itThe boy made a hole in the earth with his finger,and the little girl dropped the pip in it,and they both covered it with earth

      Now,you must not take it out tomorrow to see if it has struck root,”said Molly.“That won't do at allI did it with my flowers;but only twiceI wanted to see if they were growingI didn't know any better thenand the plants withered.”

      Anthony took away the flowerpot,and every mornin,the whole winter through,he looked at it;but nothing was to be seen but the black earthAt length,however,the spring came,and the sun shone warm again;and two little green leaves came up out of the pot

      Those are for me and Molly,”said the boy.“That's beautifulthat's marvellously beautiful!”

      Soon a third leaf made its appearanceWhom did that represent?Yes,and there came another,and yet anotherDay by day and week by week they grew larger,and the plant began to take the form of a real treeAnd all this was now mirrored in a single tear,which was wiped away and disappeared;but it might come again from its source in the heart of old Anthony

      In the neighbourhood of Eisenach a row of stony mountains rises upOne of these mountains is round in outline,naked and without tree,bush,or grassIt is called the Venus MountIn this mountain dwells Lady Venus,one of the deities of the heathen timesShe is al-so called Lady Holle;and every child in and around Eisenach has heard about herShe it was who lured Tannh user,the noble knight and minstrel,from the circle of the singers of the Wartburg into her mountain

      Little Molly and Anthony often stood by this mountain;and once Molly said,

      Dare you knock and say,‘Lady Holle,open the doorTannh user is here’?”

      But Anthony did not dareMolly,however,did it,though she only said the wordsLady Holle,Lady Holle!”aloud and distinctly;the rest she muttered so in-distinctly that Anthony felt convinced she had not really said anything;and yet she looked as bold and saucy as possibleas saucy as when she sometimes came round him with other little girls in the garden,and all wanted to kiss him because he did not like to be kissed and tried to keep them off;and she was the only one who dared to kiss him

      I may kiss him!”she would say proudly

      That was her vanity;and Anthony submitted,and thought no more about it

      How charming and how teasing Molly was!It was said that Lady Holle in the mountain was beautiful also,but that her beauty was like that of a tempting fiendThe greatest beauty and grace was possessed by Saint Elizabeth,the patron saint of the country,the pious Princess of Thuringia,whose good actions have been immortalized in many places in legends and storiesIn the chapel her picture was hanging,surrounded by silver lamps;but it was not in the least like Molly

      The appletree which the two children had planted grew year by year,and became so tall,that it had to be transplanted into the garden,into the fresh air,where the dew fell and the sun shone warmAnd the tree developed itself strongly,so that it could resist the winterAnd it seemed as if,after the rigour of the cold season was past,it put forth blossoms in spring for very joyIn the autumn it brought two applesone for Molly and one for AnthonyIt could not well have produced less

      The tree had grown apace,and Molly grew like the treeShe was as fresh as an appleblossombut Anthony was not long to behold this flowerAll things change!Molly's father left his old home,and Molly went with him,far awayYes,in our time steam has made the journey they took a matter of a few hours,but then more than a day and a night were necessary to go so far eastward from Eisenach to the farthest border of Thuringia,to the city which is still called Weimar

      And Molly wept,and Anthony wept;but all their tears now melted into one,and this tear had the rosy,charming hue of joyFor Molly told him she loved himloved him more than all the splendours of Weimar

      One,two,three years went by,and during this period two letters were receivedOne came by a carrier,and a traveller brought the otherThe way was long and difficult,and passed through many windings by towns and villages

      Often had Molly and Anthony heard of Tristram and Iseult,and often had the boy applied the story to himself and Molly,though the name Tristam was said to mean born in tribulation”,and that did not apply to Anthony,nor would he ever be able to think,like Tristram,“She has forgotten me.”But,indeed,Iseult did not forget her faithful knight;and when both were laid to rest in the earth,one on each side of the church,the linden trees grew from their graves over the church roof,and there met each other in bloomAnthony thought that was beautiful,but mournful,but it could not become mournful between him and Molly;and he whistled a song of the old minnesinger,Walter of the Vogelweide

      Under the lindens

      Upon the heath

      And especially that passage appeared charming to him

      From the forest,down in the vale,

      Sang her sweet song the nightingale

      This song was often in his mouth,and he sang and whistled it in the moonlight night,when he rode along the deep hollow way on horseback to get to Weimar and visit MollyHe wished to come unexpectedly,and he came unexpectedlyHe was made welcome with full goblets of wine,with jovial company,fine company,and a pretty room and a good bed were provided for him;and yet his reception was not what he had dreamed and fancied it would beHe could not understand himselfhe could not understand the others;but we can understand itOne may be admitted into a house and associate with a family without becoming one of themOne may converse together as one would converse in a postcarriage,and know one another as people know each other on a journey,each incommoding the other and wishing that either oneself or the good neighbour were awayYes,that was the kind of thing Anthony felt

      I am an honest girl,”said Molly,“and I myself will tell you what it isMuch has changed since we were children togetherchanged inwardly and outwardlyHabit and will have no power over our heartsAnthony,I should not like to have an enemy in you,now that I shall soon be far away from hereBelieve me,I entertain the best wishes for you;but to feel for you what I know now one may feel for a man,has never been the case with meYou must reconcile yourself to thisFarewell,Anthony!”

      And Anthony bade her farewellNo tear came into his eye,but he felt that he was no longer Molly's friendHot iron and cold iron alike take the skin from our lips,and we have the same feeling when we kiss itand he kissed himself into hatred as into love

      Within twenty-four hours Anthony was back in Eisenach,though certainly the horse on which he rode was ruined

      What matter!”he said:“I am ruined too;and I will destroy everything that can remind me of her,or of Lady Holle,or Venus the heathen woman!I will break down the appletree and tear it up by the roots,so that it shall never bear flower or fruit more!”

      But the appletree was not broken down,though he himself was brokendown,and bound on a couch by feverWhat could raise him up again?A medicine was presented to him which had strength to do thisthe bitterest of medicines,that shakes up body and spirit togetherAnthony's father ceased to be the richest of merchantsHeavy daysdays of trialwere at the door;misfortune came rolling into the house like great waves of the seaThe father became a poor manSorrow and suffering took away his strengthThen Anthony had to think of something else besides nursing his lovesorrows and his anger against MollyHe had to take his father's placeto give orders,to help,to act energetically,and at last to go out into the world and earn his bread

      Anthony went to BremenThere he learned what poverty and hard living meant;and these sometimes make the heart hard,and sometimes soften it,even too much

      How different the world was,and how different the people were from what he had supposed them to be in his childhood!What were the minnesinger's songs to him now?—an echo,a vanishing sound!Yes,that is what he thought sometimes;but again the songs would sound in his soul,and his heart became gentle

      God's will is best!”he would say then.“It was well that I was not permitted to keep Molly's heartthat she did not remain true to meWhat would it have led to now,when fortune has turned away from me?She quitted me before she knew of this loss of prosperity,or had any notion of what awaited meThat was a mercy of Providence towards meEverything has happened for the bestIt was not her faultand I have been so bitter,and have shown so much rancour towards her!”

      And years went byAnthony's father was dead,and strangers lived in the old houseBut Anthony was destined to see it againHis rich employer sent him on commercial journeys,and his duty led him into his native town of EisenachThe old Wartburg stood unchanged on the mountain,withthe monk and the nunhewn out in stoneThe great oaks gave to the scene the outlines it had possessed in his childish daysThe Venus Mount glimmered grey and naked over the valleyHe would have been glad to cry,“Lady Holle,Lady Holle,unlock the door,and I shall enter and remain in my native earth!”

      That was a sinful thought,and he blessed himself to drive it awayThen a little bird out of the thicket sang clearly,and the old minnesong came into his mind

      From the forest,down in the vale,

      Sang her sweet song the nightingale

      And here in the town of his childhood,which he thus saw again through tears,much came back into his remembranceHis father's house stood as in the old times;but the garden was altered,and a fieldpath led over a portion of the old ground,and the appletree that he had not broken down stood there,but outside the gar-den,on the farther side of the pathBut the sun threw its rays on the appletree as in the old days,the dew descended gently upon it as then,and it bore such a burden of fruit hat the branches were bent down towards the earth

      That flourishes!”he said.“The tree can grow!”

      Nevertheless,one of the branches of the tree was brokenMischievous hands had torn it down towards the ground;for now the tree stood by the public way

      They break its blossoms off without a feeling of thankfulnessthey steal its fruit and break the branchesOne might say of the tree as has been said of some men—‘It was not sung at his cradle that it should come thus’How brightly its history began,and what has it come to?Forsaken and forgottena garden tree by the hedge,in the field,and on the public way!There it stands unprotected,plundered,and broken!It has certainly not died,but in the course of years the number of blossoms will diminish;at last the fruit will cease altogether;and at lastat last all will be over!”

      Such were Anthony's thoughts under the tree;such were his thoughts during many a night in the lonely chamber of the wooden house in the distant landin the street of the small houses in Copenhagen,whither his rich employer,the Bremn merchant,had sent him,first makin it a condition that he should not marry

      Marry!Ha,ha!”he 1aughed bitterly to himself

      Winter had set in early;it was freezing hardWithout,a snowstorm was raging,so that every one who could do so remained at home;thus,too,it happened that those who lived opposite to Anthony did not notice that for two days his house had not been unlocked,and that he did not show himself;for who would go out unnecessarily in such weather?

      They were grey,gloomy days;and in the house,whose windows were not of glass,twilight only alternated with dark nightOld Anthony had not left his bed during the two days,for he had not the strength to rise;he had for a long time felt in his limbs the hardness of the weatherForsaken by all lay the old bachelor,unable to help himselfHe could scarcely reach the water-jug that he had placed by his bedside,and the last drop it contained had been consumedIt was not fever,nor sickness,but old age that had struck him downUp there,where his couch was placed,he was overshadowed,as it were,by continual nightA litile spider,which,howerer,he could not see,busily and cheerfully span its web around him,as if it were weaving a little crape banner that should wave when the old man close his eyes

      The time was very slow,and long,and drearyTears he had none to shed,nor did he feel painThe thought of Molly never came into his mindHe felt as if the world and its noise concerned him no longeras if he were lying out-side the world,and no one were thinking of himFor a moment he felt a sensation of hungerof thirstYes,he felt them bothBut nobody came to tend himnobodyHe thought of those who had once suffered want;of Saint Elizabeth,as she had once wandered on earth;of her,the saint of his home and of his childhood,the noble Duchess of Thuringia,the benevolent lady who had been accustomed to visit the lowliest cottages,bringing to the inmates re-freshment and comfortHer pious deeds shone bright upon his soulHe thought of her as she had come to distribute words of comfort,binding up the wounds of the afflicted and giving meat to the hungry,though her stern husband had chidden her for itHe thought of the legend told of her,how she had been carrying the full basket containing food and wine,when her husband,who watched her foot-steps,came forth and asked angrily what she was carry-in,whereupon she answered,in fear and trembling,that the basket contained roses which she had plucked in the garden;how he had torn away the white cloth from the basket,and a miracle had been performed for the pious lady;for bread and wine,and everything in the basket,had been transformed into roses!

      Thus the saint's memory dwelt in Anthony's quiet mind;thus she stood bodily before his downcast face,before his warehouse in the simple booth in the Danish landHe uncovered his head,and looked into her gentle eyes,and everything around him was beautiful and roseateYes,the roses seemed to unfold themselves in fragranceThere came to him a sweet,peculiar odour of apples,and he saw a blossoming appletree,which spread its branches above himit was the tree which Molly and he had planted together

      And the tree strewed down its fragrant leaves upon him,cooling his burning browThe leaves fell upon his parched lips,and were like strengthening bread and wine;and they fell upon his breast,and he felt calm,and inclined to sleep peacefully

      Now I shall sleep,”he whispered to himself.“Sleep is refreshingTomorrow I shall be upon my feet again,and strong and wellglorious,wonderful!That appletree,planted in true affection,now stands before me in heavenly radiance—”

      And he slept

      The day afterwardsit was the third day that his shop had remained closedthe snowstorm had ceased,and a neighbour from the opposite house came over towards the booth where dwelt old Anthony,who had not yet shown himselfAnthony lay stretched upon his beddeadwith his old cap clutched tightly in his two hands!They did not put that cap on his head in his coffin,for he had a new white one

      Where were now the tears that he had wept?What had become of the pearls?They remained in the nightcapand the true ones do not come out in the washthey were preserved in the nightcap,and in time forgotten;but the old thoughts and the old dreams still remained in the bachelor's nightcap.”Don't wish for such a cap for yourselfIt would make your forehead very hot,would make your pulse beat feverishly,and conjure up dreams which appear like realityThe first who wore that cap afterwards felt all that,though it was half a century afterwards;and that man was the burgomaster himself,who had a wife and eleven children,and was very well offHe was immediately seized with dreams of unfortunate love,of bankruptcy,and of heavy times

      Hallo!how the nightcap warms!”he cried,and tore it from his head

      And a pearl rolled out,and another,and another,and they sounded and glittered

      This must be gout,”said the burgomaster.“Something dazzles my eyes!”

      They were tears,shed half a century before by old Anthony from Eisenach

      Every one who aftewards put that nightcap upon his head had visions and dreamsHis own history was changed into that of Anthony,and became a story;in fact,many storiesBut some one else may tell themWe have told the firstAnd our last word isdon't wish forthe Old Bachelor's Nightcap”.

       


       

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