O. T., A Danish Romance

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An excursion to the park had often been discussed in the club. They
wished to hire the Caledonia steam-packet. But during the summer
months the number of members is less; the majority are gone to the
provinces to visit their relations. Winter, on the contrary,
assembles them all. This time, also, is the best for great
undertakings. The long talked of excursion to the park was
therefore fixed for Carnival Monday, the 14th of February, 1831.
Thus ran the invitations to the professors and older members. "It
will be too cold for me," replied one. "Must one take a carriage
for one's self?" asked mother. No, the park was removed to
Copenhagen. In the Students' Club itself, in the Boldhuus Street,
No. 225, was the park-hill with its green trees, its swings,
and amusements. See, only the scholars of the Black School could
have such ideas!

The evening of the 114th of February drew near. The guests
assembled in the rooms on the first floor. Meanwhile all was
arranged in the second story. Those who represented jugglers were
in their places. A thundering cracker was the steamboat signal, and
now people hastened to the park, rushing up-stairs, where two large
rooms had, with great taste and humor, been converted into the
park-hill. Large fir-trees concealed the walls--you found yourself
in a complete wood. The doors which connected the two rooms were
decorated with sheets, so that it looked as if you were going
through a tent. Hand-organs played, drums and trumpets roared, and
from tents and stages the hawkers shouted one against the other.
It was a noise such as is heard in the real park when the hubbub
has reached its height. The most brilliant requisites of the real
park were found here, and they were not imitated; they were the
things themselves. Master Jakel's own puppets had been hired; a
student, distinguished by his complete imitation of the first
actors, represented them by the puppets. The fortress of
Frederiksteen was the same which we have already seen in the park.
"The whole cavalry and infantry,--here a fellow without a bayonet,
there a bayonet without a fellow!" The old Jew sat under his tree
where he announced his fiftieth park jubilee: here a student ate
flax, there another exhibited a bear; Polignac stood as a wax
figure outside a cabinet. The Magdalene convent exhibited its
little boxes, the drum-major beat most lustily, and from a near
booth came the real odor of warm wafer-cakes. The spring even,
which presented itself in the outer room, was full of significance.
Certainly it was only represented by a tea-urn concealed between
moss and stones, but the water was real water, brought from the
well in Christiansborg. Astounding and full of effect was the
multitude of sweet young girls who showed themselves. Many of the
youngest students who had feminine features were dressed as ladies;
some of them might even be called pretty. Who that then saw the
fair one with the tambourine can have forgotten her? The company
crowded round the ladies. The professors paid court to them with
all propriety, and, what was best of all, some ladies who were less
successful became jealous of the others. Otto was much excited; the
noise, the bustle, the variety of people, were almost strikingly
given. Then came the master of the fire-engines, with his wife and
little granddaughter; then three pretty peasant girls; then the
whole Botanical Society, with their real professor at their head.
Otto seated himself in a swing; an itinerant flute-player and a
drummer deafened him with dissonances. A young lady, one of the
beauties, in a white dress, and with a thin handkerchief over her
shoulders, approached and threw herself into his arms. It was
Wilhelm! but Otto found his likeness to Sophie stronger than he had
ever before noticed it to be; and therefore the blood rushed to his
cheeks when the fair one threw her arms around him, and laid her
cheek upon his: he perceived more of Sophie than of Wilhelm in this
form. Certainly Wilhelm's features were coarser--his whole figure
larger than Sophie's; but still Otto fancied he saw Sophie, and
therefore these marked gestures, this reeling about with the other
students, offended his eyes. When Wilhelm seated himself on his
knee, and pressed his cheek to his, Otto felt his heart beat as in
fever; it sent a stream of fire through his blood: he thrust him
away, but the fair one continued to overwhelm him with caresses.

There now commenced, in a so-called Krahwinkel theatre, the comedy,
in which were given the then popular witticisms of Kellerman.

The lady clung fast to Otto, and flew dancing with him through the
crowd. The heat, the noise, and, above all, the exaggerated lacing,
affected Wilhelm; he felt unwell. Otto led him to a bench and would
have unfastened his dress, but all the young ladies, true to their
part, sprang forward, pushed Otto aside, surrounded their sick
companion and concealed her, whilst they tore up the dress behind
so that she might have air: but, God forbid! no gentleman might see
it.

Toward evening a song was commenced, a shot was heard, and the last
verse announced:--

"The gun has been fired, the vessel must fly
To the town from the green wood shady.
Come, friends, now we to the table will hie,
A gentleman and a fair lady."

And now all rushed with the speed of a steamboat downstairs, and
soon sat in gay rows around the covered tables.

Wilhelm was Otto's lady--the Baron was called the Baroness; the
glasses resounded, and the song commenced:--

"These will drink our good king's health,
Will drink it here, his loyal students."

And that patriotic song:--

"I know a land up in the North
Where it is good to be."

It concluded with--

"An hurrah
For the king and the rescript!"

In joy one must embrace everything joyful, and that they
did. Here was the joy of youth in youthful hearts.

"No condition's like the student's;
He has chosen the better way!"

so ran the concluding verse of the following song, which ended with
the toast,--

"For her of whom the heart dreams ever,
But whom the lips must never name!"

It was then that Wilhelm seemed to glow with inward fire; he struck
his glass so violently against Otto's that it broke, and the wine
was spilt.

"A health to the ladies!" cried one of the signors.

"A health to the ladies!" resounded from the different rooms, which
were all converted into the banquet-hall.

The ladies rose, stood upon their chairs, some even upon the table,
bowed, and returned thanks for the toast.

"No, no," whispered Otto to Wilhelm, at the same time pulling him
down. "In this dress you resemble your sister so much, that it is
quite horrible to me to see you act a part so opposed to her
character!"

"And your eyes," Said Wilhelm, smiling, "resemble two eyes which
have touched my heart. A health to first love!" cried he, and
struck his glass against Otto's so that the half of his wine was
again lost.

The champagne foamed, and amidst noise and laughter, as during the
carnival joy, a new song refreshed the image of the nark which they
had just left:--

"Here if green trees were not growing
Fresh as on yon little hill,
Heard we not the fountains flowing,
We in sooth should see them still!
Tents were filled below, above,
Filled with everything but love!
***
Here went gratis brushing-boys--
Graduated have they all!
Here stood, who would think it, sir?
A student as a trumpeter!"

"A health to the one whose eyes mine resemble!" whispered Otto,
carried along with the merriment.

"That health we have already drunk!" answered Wilhelm, "but we
cannot do a good thing too often."

"Then you still think of Eva?"

"She was beautiful! sweet! who knows what might have happened had
she remained here? Her fate has fallen into mamma's hands, and she
and the other exalted Nemesis must now conduct the affair: I wash
my hands of it."

"Are you recovered?" asked Otto. "But when you see Eva again in the
summer?"

"I hope that I shall not fall sick," replied Wilhelm; "I have a
strong constitution. But we must now hasten up to the dance."

All rushed from the tables, and up-stairs, where the park was
arranged. There was now only the green wood to be seen. Theatres
and booths had been removed. Gay paper-lamps hung among the branches,
a large orchestra played, and a half-bacchanalian wood-ball commenced.
Wilhelm was Otto's partner, but after the first dance the lady sought
out for herself a more lively cavalier.

Otto drew back toward the wall where the windows were concealed by
the boughs of Fir-tree. His eye followed Wilhelm, whose great
resemblance to Sophie made him melancholy; his hand accidentally
glided through the branches and touched the window-seat; there lay
a little bird--it was dead!

To increase the illusion they had bought a number of birds, which
should fly about during the park-scene, but the poor little
creatures had died from fright at the wild uproar. In the windows
and corners they lay dead. It was one of these birds that Otto
found.

"It is dead!" said he to Wilhelm, who approached him.

"Now, that is capital!" returned the friend; "here you have
something over which you may be sentimental!"

Otto would not reply.

"Shall we dance a Scotch waltz?" asked Wilhelm laughing, and the
wine and his youthful blood glowed in his cheeks.

"I wish you would put on your own dress!" said Otto. "You resemble,
as I said before, your sister"--

"And I am my sister," interrupted Wilhelm, in his wantonness. "And
as a reward for your charming readings aloud, for your excellent
conversation, and the whole of your piquant amiability, you shall
now be paid with a little kiss!" He pressed his lips to Otto's
forehead; Otto thrust him back and left the company.

Several hours passed before he could sleep; at length he was forced
to laugh over his anger: what mattered it if Wilhelm resembled his
sister?

The following morning Otto paid her a visit. All listened with
lively interest to his description of the merry St. John's day in
February. He also related how much Wilhelm had resembled his
sister, and how unpleasant this had been to him; and they laughed.
During the relation, however, Otto could not forbear drawing a
comparison. How great a difference did he now find! Sophie's beauty
was of quite another kind! Never before had he regarded her in this
light. Of the kisses which Wilhelm had given him, of course, they
did not speak; but Otto thought of them, thought of them quite
differently to what he had done before, and--the ways of Cupid are
strange! We will now see how affairs stand after advancing fourteen
days.

CHAPTER XXVIII

"Huzza for Copenhagen and for Paris! may they both flourish!"
The Danes in Paris by HEIBERG.

Wilhelm's cousin, Joachim, had arrived from Paris. We remember the
young officer, out of whose letters Wilhelm had sent Otto a
description of the struggle of the July days. As an inspired hero
of liberty had he returned; struggling Poland had excited his
lively interest, and he would willingly have combated in Warsaw's
ranks. His mind and his eloquence made him doubly interesting. The
combat of the July days, of which he had been an eye-witness, he
described to them. Joachim was handsome; he had an elegant
countenance with sharp features, and was certainly rather pale--one
might perhaps have called him worn with dissipation, had it not
been for the brightness of his eyes, which increased in
conversation. The fine dark eyebrow, and even the little mustache,
gave the countenance all expression which reminded one of fine
English steel-engravings. His figure was small, almost slender, but
the proportions were beautiful. The animation of the Frenchman
expressed itself in every motion, but at the same time there was in
him a certain determination which seemed to say: "I am aware of
my own intellectual superiority!"

He interested every one: Otto also listened with pleasure when
Cousin Joachim related his experiences, but when all eyes were
turned toward the narrator, Otto fixed his suddenly upon Sophie,
and found that she could moderate his attentions. Joachim addressed
his discourse to all, but at the points of interest his glance
rested alone on the pretty cousin! "She interests him!" said Otto
to himself. "And Cousin Joachim?" Yes, he relates well; but had we
only traveled we should not be inferior to him!"

"Charles X. was a Jesuit!" said Joachim; "he strove after an
unrestrained despotism, and laid violent hands on the Charter. The
expedition against Algiers was only a glittering fire-work arranged
to flatter the national pride--all glitter and falseness! Like
Peirronnet, through an embrace he would annihilate the Charter."

The conversation now turned from the Jesuits to the Charter and
Polignac. The minute particulars, which only an eyewitness can
relate, brought the struggle livingly before their eyes. They saw
the last night, the extraordinary activity in the squares where the
balls were showered, and in the streets where the barricades were
erected. Overturned wagons and carts, barrels and stones, were
heaped upon each other--even the hundred year-old trees of the
Boulevards were cut down to form barricades: the struggle began,
Frenchman fought against Frenchman--for liberty and country they
sacrificed their life. [Note:
"Ceux qui pieusement sont morts pour la patrie
Ont droit qu'a leur cerceuil la foule vienne et prie:
Entre le plus beaux noms, leur nom est le plus beau.
Toute gloire, pres d'eux, passe et tombe ephemere
Et, comme ferait une mere,
La voix d'un peuple entier les berce en leur tombeau!"
--VICTOR HUGO.]
And he described the victory and Louis Philippe, whom he admired
and loved.

"That was a world event," said the man of business. "It electrified
both king and people. They still feel the movement. Last year was
an extraordinary year!"

"For the Copenhageners also," said Otto, "there were three colors.
These things occupied the multitude with equal interest: the July
Revolution, the 'Letters of a Wandering Ghost,' and Kellermann's
'Berlin Wit.'"

"Now you are bitter, Mr. Thostrup," said the lady of the house.
"The really educated did not occupy themselves with these Berlin
'Eckensteher' which the multitude have rendered national!"

"But they hit the right mark!" said Otto; "they met with a
reception from the citizens and people in office."

"That I can easily believe," remarked Joachim; "that is like the
people here!"

"That is like the people abroad!" said the hostess. "In Paris they
pass over still more easily from a revolution, in which they
themselves have taken part, to a review by Jules Janin, or to a new
step of Taglioni's, and from that to 'une histoire scandaleuse!'"

"No, my gracious lady, of the last no one takes any notice--it
belongs to the order of the day!"

"That I can easily believe!" said Miss Sophie.

The man of business now inquired after the Chamber. The cousin's
answer was quite satisfactory. The lady of the house wished to hear
of the flower-markets, and of the sweet little inclosed gardens in
the Places. Sophie wished to hear of Victor Hugo. She received a
description of him, of his abode in the Place Royale, and of the
whole Europe litteraire beside. Cousin Joachim was extremely
interesting.

Otto did not pay another visit for two days.

"Where have you been for so long?" asked Sophie, when he came
again.

"With my books!" replied he: there lay a gloomy expression in his
eyes.

"O, you should have come half an hour earlier--our cousin was here!
He was describing to me the Jardin des Plantes in Paris. O, quite
excellently!"

"He is an interesting young man!" said Otto.

"The glorious garden!" pursued Sophie, without remarking the
emphasis with which Otto had replied. "Do you not remember, Mr.
Thostrup, how Barthelemi has spoken of it?
'Ou tout homme, qui reve a son pays absent,
Retrouve ses parfums et son air caressant.'
In it there is a whole avenue with cages, in which are wild
beasts,--lions and tigers! In small court-yards, elephants and
buffaloes wander about at liberty! Giraffes nibble the branches of
high trees! In the middle of the garden are the courts for bears,
only there is a sort of well in which the bears walk about; it is
surrounded by no palisades, and you stand upon the precipitous
edge! There our cousin stood!"

"But he did not precipitate himself down!" said Otto, with
indifference.

"What is the matter?" asked Sophie. "Are you in your elegiac mood?
You look as I imagine Victor Hugo when he has not made up his mind
about the management of his tragic catastrophe!"

"That is my innate singularity!" replied Otto. "I should have
pleasure in springing down among the bears of which you relate!"

"And in dying?" asked Sophie. "No, you must live.
'C'est le bonheur de vivre
Qui fait la gloire de mourir.'"

"You speak a deal of French to-day," said Otto, with a friendliness
of manner intended to soften the bitterness of the tone. "Perhaps
your conversation with the lieutenant was in that language?"

"French interests me the most!" replied she. "I will ask our cousin
to speak it often with me. His accent is excellent, and he is
himself a very interesting man!"

"No doubt of it!" answered Otto.

"You will remain and dine with us?" said the lady of the house, who
now entered.

Otto did not feel well.

"These are only whims," said Sophie.

The ladies made merry, and Otto remained. Cousin Joachim came and
was interesting--very interesting, said all. He related of Paris,
spoke also of Copenhagen, and drew comparisons. The quietness of
home had made an especial impression on him.

"People here," said he, "go about as if they bore some heavy grief,
or some joy, which they might not express. If one goes into a
coffee-house, it is just as if one entered a house of mourning.
Each one seats himself, a newspaper in his hand, in a corner. That
strikes one when one comes from Paris! One naturally has the
thought,--Can these few degrees further north bring so much cold
into the blood? There is the same quiet in our theatre. Now I love
this active life. The only boldness the public permits itself is
hissing a poor author; but a wretched singer, who has neither tone
nor manner, a miserable actress, will be endured, nay, applauded by
good friends--an act of compassion. She is so fearful! she is so
good! In Paris people hiss. The decoration master, the manager,
every one there receives his share of applause or blame. Even the
directors are there hissed, if they manage badly."

"You are preaching a complete revolution in our theatrical
kingdom!" said the lady of the house. "The Copenhageners cannot
ever become Parisians, and neither should they."

"The theatre is here, as well as there, the most powerful organ of
the people's life. It has the greatest influence, and ours stands
high, very high, when one reflects in what different directions it
must extend its influence. Our only theatre must accommodate
itself, and represent, at the same time, the Theatre Francais, the
grand Opera, the Vaudeville, and Saint-Martin; it must comprehend
all kinds of theatrical entertainments. The same actors who to-day
appear in tragedy, must to-morrow show themselves in a comedy or
vaudeville. We have actors who might compare themselves with the
best in Paris--only _one_ is above all ours, but, also, above all
whom I have seen in Europe, and this one is Mademoiselle Mars. You
will, doubtless, consider the reason extraordinary which gives this
one, in my opinion, the first place. This is her age, which she so
completely compels you to forget. She is still pretty; round,
without being called fat. It is not through rouge, false hair, or
false teeth, that she procures herself youth; it lies in her soul,
and from thence it flows into every limb--every motion becomes
charming! She fills you with astonishment! her eyes are full of
expression, and her voice is the most sonorous which I know! It is
indeed music! How can one think of age when one is affected by an
immortal soul? I rave about Leontine Fay, but the old Mars has my
heart. There is also a third who stands high with the Parisians--
Jenny Vertpre, at the Gymnase Dramatique, but she would be soon
eclipsed were the Parisians to see our Demoiselle Patges. She
possesses talent which will shine in every scene. Vertpre has her
loveliness, her whims, but not her Proteus-genius, her nobility. I
saw Vertpre in 'La Reine de Seize Ans,'--a piece which we have not
yet; but she was only a saucy soubrette in royal splendor--a
Pernille of Holberg's, as represented by a Parisian. We have Madame
Wexschall, and we have Frydendal! Were Denmark only a larger
country, these names would sound throughout Europe!"

He now described the decorations in the "Sylphide," in "Natalia,"
and in various other ballets, the whole splendor, the whole
magnificence.

"But our orchestra is excellent!" said Miss Sophie.

"It certainly contains several distinguished men," answered
Joachim; "but must one speak of the whole? Yes, you know I am not
musical, and cannot therefore express myself in an artistical
manner about music, but certain it is that something lay in my ear,
in my feeling, which, in Paris, whispered to me, 'That is
excellent!' Here, on the contrary, it cries, 'With moderation! with
moderation!' The voice is the first; she is the lady; the
instruments, on the contrary, are the cavaliers who shall conduct
the former before the public. Gently they should take her by the
hand; she must stand quite foremost; but here the instruments
thrust her aside, and it is to me as if each instrument would have
the first place, and constantly shouted, 'Here am I! here am I!"

"That sounds very well!" said Sophie; "but one may not believe you!
You have fallen in love with foreign countries, and, therefore, at
home everything must be slighted."

"By no means! The Danish ladies, for instance, appear the
prettiest, the most modest whom I have known."

"Appear?" repeated Otto.

"Joachim possesses eloquence," said the lady of the house.

"That has developed itself abroad!" answered he: "here at home
there are only two ways in which it can publicly develop itself--in
the pulpit, and at a meeting in the shooting-house. Yet it is true
that now we are going to have a Diet and a more political life. I
feel already, in anticipation, the effect; we shall only live for
this life, the newspapers will become merely political, the poets
sing politics the painters choose scenes from political life.
'C'est un Uebergang!' as Madame La Fleche says. [Author's Note:
Holberg's Jean de France.] Copenhagen is too small to be a great,
and too great to be a small city. See, there lies the fault!"

Otto felt an irresistible desire to contradict him in most things
which he said about home. But the cousin parried every bold blow
with a joke.

"Copenhagen must be the Paris of the North," said he, "and that it
certainly would become in fifty, or twice that number of years. The
situation was far more beautiful than that of the city of the
Seine. The marble church must be elevated, and become a Pantheon,
adorned with the works of Thorwaldsen and other artists;
Christiansborg, a Louvre, whose gallery you visit; Oster Street and
Pedermadsen's passage, arcades such as are in Paris, covered with
glass roofs and flagged, shops on both sides, and in the evening,
when thousands of gas-lamps burnt, here should be the promenade;
the esplanades would be the Champs Elysees, with swings and slides,
music, and mats de cocagne. [Author's Note: High smooth poles, to
the top of which victuals, clothes, or money are attached. People
of the lower classes then try to climb up and seize the prizes. The
best things are placed at the very top of the pole.] On the
Peblinger Lake, as on the Seine, there should be festive water
excursions made. Voila!" exclaimed he, "that would be splendid!"

"That might be divine!" said Sophie.

Animation and thought lay in the cousin's countenance; his fine
features became striking from their expression. Thus did his image
stamp itself in Otto's soul, thus did it place itself beside
Sophie's image as she stood there, with her large brown eyes, round
which played thought and smiles, whilst they rested on the cousin.
The beautifully formed white hand, with its taper fingers, played
with the curls which fell over her cheeks. Otto would not think of
it.

CHAPTER XXIX

"And if I have wept alone, it is my own sorrow."--GOETHE

Latterly Otto had been but seldom at Mr. Berger's. He had no
interest about the merchant's home. The family showed him every
politeness and mark of confidence; but his visits became every week
more rare. Business matters, however, led him one day there.

Chance or fate, as we call it, if the shadow of a consequence shows
itself, caused Maren to pass through the anteroom when Otto was
about taking his departure. She was the only one of the ladies at
home. In three weeks she would return to Lemvig. She said that she
could not boast of having enjoyed Mr. Thostrup's society too often.

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