Marie Grubbe - Jens Peter Jacobsen (best english novels for beginners .txt) 📗
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the whale, and when he put his hand on them, he shuddered, declaring
he was sure to catch a cold if he should be so careless as to sit and
read with his elbows on the table.
When Marie questioned him, he explained that he had left Copenhagen on
account of the plague and meant to stay until it was over. He ate only
three times a day, and he could not stand salt meat or fresh bread. As
for the rest, he was a master of arts at present fellow at Borch’s
Collegium, and his name was Holberg, Ludvig Holberg.
Master Holberg was a very quiet man of remarkably youthful appearance.
At first glance he appeared to be about eighteen or nineteen years
old, but upon closer examination his mouth, his hands, and the
inflection of his voice showed that he must be a good deal older. He
kept to himself, spoke but little, and that little—so it seemed—with
reluctance. Not that he avoided other people, but he simply wanted
them to leave him in peace and not draw him into conversation. When
the ferry came and went with passengers or when the fishermen brought
in their catch, he liked to watch the busy life from a distance and to
listen to the discussions. He seemed to enjoy the sight of people at
work, whether it was ploughing or stacking or launching the boats, and
whenever anyone put forth an effort that showed more than common
strength, he would smile with pleasure and lift his shoulders in quiet
delight. When he had been at the Burdock House for a month, he began
to approach Marie Grubbe, or rather he allowed her to approach him,
and they would often sit talking in the warm summer evenings, for an
hour or two at a time in the common room, where they could look out
through the open door over the bright surface of the water to the
blue, hazy outlines of Moen.
One evening after their friendship had been well established, Marie
told him her story, and ended with a sigh because they had taken Soren
away from her.
“I must own,” said Holberg, “that I am utterly unable to comprehend
how you could prefer an ordinary groom and country oaf to such a
polished gentleman as his Excellency the Viceroy, who is praised by
everybody as a past master in all the graces of fashion, nay as the
model of everything that is elegant and pleasing.”
“Even though he had been as full of it as the book they call the
Alamodische Sittenbuch, it would not have mattered a rush, since I
had once for all conceived such an aversion and loathing for him that
I could scarce bear to have him come into my presence; and you know
how impossible it is to overcome such an aversion—so that if one had
the virtue and principles of an angel, yet this natural aversion would
be stronger. On the other hand, my poor present husband woke in me
such an instant and unlooked-for inclination that I could ascribe it
to nothing but a natural attraction which it would be in vain to
resist.”
“Ha! That were surely well reasoned! Then we have but to pack all
morality into a strong chest and send it to Hekkenfell and live on
according to the desires of our hearts, for then there is no lewdness
to be named but we can dress it up as a natural and irresistible
attraction, and in the same manner there is not one of all the virtues
but we can easily escape from the exercise of it; for one may have an
aversion for sobriety, one for honesty, one for modesty, and such a
natural aversion, he would say, is quite irresistible so one who feels
it is quite innocent. But you have altogether too clear an
understanding, goodwife, not to know that all this is naught but
wicked conceits and bedlam talk.”
Marie made no answer.
“But do you not believe in God, goodwife,” Master Holberg went on,
“and in the life everlasting?”
“Ay, God be praised, I do. I believe in our Lord.”
“But eternal punishment and eternal reward, goodwife?”
“I believe every human being lives his own life and dies his own
death; that is what I believe.”
“But that is no faith; do you believe we shall rise again from the
dead?”
“How shall I rise? As the young, innocent child I was when I first
came out among people, or as the honored and envied favorite of the
King and the ornament of the court, or as poor old hopeless Ferryman’s
Marie? And shall I answer for what the others, the child and the woman
in the fullness of life, have sinned, or shall one of them answer for
me? Can you tell me that, Master Holberg?”
“Yet you have had but one soul, goodwife!”
“Have I indeed?” asked Marie and sat musing for a while. “Let me speak
to you plainly, and answer me truly as you think. Do you believe that
one who his whole life has sinned grievously against God in heaven and
who in his last moment, when he is struggling with death, confesses
his sin from a true heart, repents, and gives himself over to the
mercy of God without fear and without doubt, do you think such a one
is more pleasing to God than another who has likewise sinned and
offended against Him but then for many years of her life has striven
to do her duty, has borne every burden without a murmur, but never in
prayer or open repentance has wept over her former life, do you think
that she who has lived as she thought was rightly lived but without
hope of any reward hereafter and without prayer, do you think God will
thrust her from Him and cast her out, even though she has never
uttered a word of prayer to Him?”
“That is more than any man may dare to say,” replied Master Holberg
and left her.
Shortly afterwards he went away.
In August of the following year judgment was pronounced against Soren
Ferryman, and he was sentenced to three years of hard labor in irons
at Bremerholm.
It was a long time to suffer, longer to wait, yet at last it was over.
Soren came home, but the confinement and harsh treatment had
undermined his health, and before Marie had nursed him for a year,
they bore him to the grave.
For yet another long, long year Marie had to endure this life. Then
she suddenly fell ill and died. Her mind was wandering during her
illness, and the pastor could neither pray with her nor give her the
sacrament.
On a sunny day in summer they buried her at Soren’s side, and over the
bright waters and the golden grain-fields sounded the hymn, as the
poor little group of mourners, dulled by the heat, sang without sorrow
and without thought:
“Lord God, in mercy hear our cry before Thee;
Thy bloody scourge lift from us, we implore Thee;
Turn Thou from us Thy wrath all men pursuing
For their wrongdoing.
“If Thou regard alone our vile offending,
If upon us true justice were descending,
Then must the earth and all upon it crumble,
Yea, proud and humble.”
THE END
NOTES
PREFATORY
The historical setting of Marie Grubbe centres around the siege of
Copenhagen, when the gallant resistance of the citizens saved the
national existence of Denmark. It was the turning point in a contest
extending over several generations. Christian the Fourth (1588—1648),
though a gifted and energetic monarch devoted throughout his long
reign to the welfare of his people and idolized by them, was unable to
stem the tide of Sweden’s advance, and by the peace of Bromsebro,
1645, the supremacy in the North passed definitely from Denmark to
Sweden. His son and successor, Frederik the Third (1648-1670), hoped
to regain what was lost, and seized the opportunity in 1657, when
Sweden was engaged elsewhere, to make the declaration of war which is
discussed in the opening chapter of Marie Grubbe, The attempt was
disastrous, and in 1658 he had to conclude the short-lived peace of
Roskilde, by which Denmark was still further shorn of her possessions.
Yet the Swedish king, Carl Gustaf, was not satisfied with the
punishment he had inflicted, and in the same year broke the peace
without warning. Kronborg fell easily into his hands, but in
Copenhagen he met unexpected resistance. Frederik the Third refused to
listen to prudent counsellors who advised him to flee. The suburbs
were burned and the ramparts hastily strengthened. For a year and a
half the citizens endured the siege and, with the aid of a mere
handful of soldiers, beat back the repeated attacks of the seasoned
Swedish warriors. Finally, after a furious fight in the night of
February 11, 1660, the enemy had to retire with great loss.
One effect of the war was to strengthen the King and the citizens and
to weaken correspondingly the overweening power of the nobility. The
States-General was called in September 1660, at the request of the
citizens of Copenhagen, but unfortunately they did not know how to
seize the golden moment and enact their temporary privileges into a
law of the realm. Frederik the Third, on the other hand, had his
programme ready. Egged on by his ambitious wife, the German princess
Sofie Amalie, he succeeded in making himself an absolute autocrat and
the crown hereditary in his line. He used his unlimited power wisely,
checked the nobility, and unified and strengthened the kingdom. His
policy was continued by his son, Christian the Fifth (1670—1699).
All the important characters in Marie Grubbe are historical, and
Jacobsen has followed the facts when known. Regarding the heroine
herself we have few data beyond what may be gleaned from the documents
in connection with her three marriages and two divorces; indeed, it
seems strange that a career so extraordinary should have elicited so
little comment from contemporaries. We do not even know how she met
her first husband, Ulrik Frederik Gyldenlove, but the fact that she,
a little country maiden from Jutland, could charm this experienced
gallant is sufficient testimony to her beauty. The bridegroom’s royal
father, Frederik the Third, was so pleased with the marriage that he
wrote a congratulatory poem in German which was printed on white
satin. We are told that she was clever in repartee and that even in
her old age she spoke French fluently. She died in 1718 “at a great
age, but in a very poor and miserable condition.” Her history has been
written by Severin Kjasr in his _Erik Grubbe til Tjele og hans tre
Dotre_ (1904), to which the translator is indebted for the notes
relating to the Grubbes and their connections. The notes about the
various old songs that occur in the text are condensed from those of
the author.
Page 8.
Tjele Manor is still standing, situated a few miles to the northeast
of Viborg. The south wing, a massive structure with walls ten feet
thick, dates from the thirteenth century. The main building was
erected in 1585 by Jorgen Skram and his wife Hilleborg Daa, whose arms
may be seen above the portal. The manor passed afterwards into the
hands of the Below family, from whom Erik Grubbe bought it in 1635.
It is a splendid edifice characterized by a stepped gable and some
interesting interior decorations. The estate at present is entailed in
the Luttichau family, and the owners have taken care to keep up and
extend the fine old garden. A lane of shade trees leads up to the
entrance.
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