Collected Works of Frances Trollope

by Frances Milton Trollope

  The priest of Hindsdorf was greatly respected in his parish, and he found no difficulty in obtaining proper and sufficient witnesses for the ceremony he was about to perform.

  In a word, the purpose of the unfriended young couple was achieved with no bustle, and with as little delay as possible; and the most remarkable circumstance which I have at present to relate respecting it is, that though they walked so lovingly together to the town of Hindsdorf, they left it by two different routes, which appeared to lead them as far asunder as it was possible they could go.

  CHAPTER II.

  “WE have all read stately stories of proud old barons in more lands than one; and if our researches into the annals of the race have led us far back, we may have read too of predatory barons, nay, of murdering barons also; each one furnishing a theme fruitful in incident, and precious to all the numerous class of readers who love excitement better than example.

  I, too, have a story to tell about a baron, and, moreover, about a German baron, which is, I believe, considered as the most romantic species of the class; but unfortunately the date of my story is not so favourable as I could wish it to be, for it is too recent to furnish authority for any of those highly-wrought descriptions of awful acts, and startling facts, which are so readily welcomed by the imagination, when the period at which they occurred is sufficiently remote to render the application of the test of probability, only a mark of ignorance as to the prodigious difference between the present and the past. Such as my story is, however, I will tell it without further preface, only begging for a little more of the indulgence which has so often been granted to me.

  The Baron von Schwanberg was already an old man when my narrative begins, but still young enough, nevertheless, to be as self-willed and headstrong a gentleman as could easily be found at any age. He was, moreover, one of the very proudest men that ever existed; but there was such an honest and undoubting sincerity of belief in his own greatness, that few of those who approached him could refuse to sympathise with his feelings sufficiently to prevent their betraying any very decided doubt of his greatness; for it was easy to perceive that no such doubt could be betrayed to him, without producing a more violent effect than any reasonable person would ‘wish to witness.

  Had he lived more in the world, this half-insane state of mind must of necessity have been cured; but every circumstance of his life had unfortunately tended to increase it.

  He was early placed, with all the distinction usually shewn to rank and fortune, in one of the most favoured regiments of the Emperor of Austria; and if he had remained there, he would have been sure to learn, notwithstanding this grace and favour, that he was but a man, though a very noble one. But unfortunately his father died within a year after the young officer had attained the age of twenty-one years, and, as the country was then most profoundly at peace, no objection of any kind was made to his withdrawing himself to his estates in Hungary, which were indeed large and important enough to render the personal superintendence of their possessor extremely necessary.

  Setting aside the sort of monomaniacal pride above mentioned, the Baron von Schwanberg was far from being a bad man; and if he believed that the duties which devolved upon him at the death of his father, were only second in importance to those which fell upon the Emperor himself, when his imperial parent was removed from the earth, he believed also that great and grave duties devolved upon him likewise, and very earnestly did the youthful baron determine to perform them faithfully.

  Having, by very careful and judicious inquiry, ascertained both the character and the position of the many families in his immediate neighbourhood, who were cither the tenants, or the labourers on his property, he made various regulations, all tending to encourage and reward their industry; and it would have been difficult to find in any land an estate, upon which the toiling labourers, who converted its soil into gold, had less reason to complain of their lot.

  That these labourers were considered by the baron as no more of the same order of beings as himself, than were the docile oxen which they led to plough, or the milky herds which enriched their dairies, is most certain; but the Baron von Schwanberg was as unconscious of committing any fault or folly, by so thinking, as he was when selecting a rose from his flower-garden, and testifying his approval of it, by permitting it to bloom for his especial pleasure on his drawing-room table.

  But, nevertheless, though his gigantic estimate of his own greatness did not weigh upon his conscience, it was in many ways troublesome to him. It cannot be doubted, that such a young man as the baron, almost as far removed from frivolity of all sorts as from right thinking upon most subjects, — it cannot be doubted that such a man had not long found himself at the head of his illustrious house, before he began to turn his thoughts towards the necessary and all-important business of forming such a matrimonial alliance as, while it provided for the continuance of his race, should add no symbol to the bearings on his shield which could be considered as unworthy of a place there.

  But the task he thus set himself was, in truth, no easy one. Not for a moment during the many years through which this difficult search lasted, did he ever permit his eye to wander in pursuit of beauty, however attractive, or his heart to soften under the influence of the sweetest smiles that woman could bestow. Some adverse fate seemed to be at work against him; for, although, in addition to his noble descent, and his large and unincumbered estates, he was decidedly a very handsome man, his hand had been more than once rejected. It is probable that he was too much in earnest in the real object which he had in view, to disguise his comparative indifference on other points; for it would be really difficult to account for his many disappointments on any other ground. At length, however, his persevering researches were rewarded by what he considered as the most brilliant success; for during his annual visit to Vienna he had the happiness of meeting, wooing, and winning a young countess, who really seemed to possess every qualification to make the marriage state happy, save and except the paltry article of wealth; but as he really would have considered a large fortune in his wife a very useless superfluity, the want of it was by no means considered as an obstacle to the union; and at length, therefore, a few months before his fiftieth birthday, the Baron von Schwanberg was united to the young, beautiful, and high-born Countess Gertrude von Wolkendorf.

  When a marriage so every way desirable has been achieved by a lover, he is apt to think that he has reached the happiest moment of his existence but this was not exactly the case with the Baron von Schwanberg. He was certainly greatly delighted to find himself, at length, married to precisely such a noble young lady as it had been his wish to find; but not even from her would he have attempted to conceal the fact, that the happiness of possessing her was a blessing of considerably less importance than that of the heir which he anticipated as its result.

  Fortunately, the prospect of this crowning blessing soon became evident, and the delight of the Baron von Schwanberg thereupon was almost too great to be restrained within any reasonable bounds. His young wife was often at a loss to know how she ought to receive these vehement demonstrations of his happiness. Like most other women, she gladly welcomed the trial that awaited her, for the sake of the treasure which her womanly hope told her would reward her for it; but as to sympathising with the almost convulsive raptures daily and hourly expressed by her husband, it was beyond her power. She was by nature thoughtful, gentle, and rather undemonstrative, than the reverse; and moreover, she was as true as she was reasonable; and the sort of affectation which it would have required to enable her to appear in a state of ecstacy equal to his own, would have required a sacrifice of sincerity which it was not in her nature to make.

  As it never entered the head of the Baron von Schwanberg, to suppose it possible that any lady who shared with him in all the honours and glories of his position, as his wife, should be insensible to the happiness of transmitting them to an heir, he very soon began to torment himself with the terrible idea, that the preternatural compos
ure and indifference, as he called it, of his wife’s manner, arose from ill-health; and from the time this idea first suggested itself to him, he never for a moment lost sight of the possibility, nay, probability, that all his hopes might at last prove abortive.

  Grievously did he torment his unfortunate lady, who, to say the truth, was in very excellent health, by his unceasing anxiety about her condition; till at length, finding that the most tender and persevering enquiries could obtain from her nothing but reiterated assurances that she was “quite well,” he suddenly took the resolution of adding a domestic accoucheur to his establishment; and as he did not deem it either necessary or judicious to explain to his lady all the parental terrors which had induced him to take this step, Madame von Schwanberg was a good deal surprised by the lengthened visit of the grave and not very amusing individual whom her husband now introduced to her as one of his particular friends.

  This introduction, however, was, of course, enough to insure her treating him with all the consideration due to an honoured guest; nor, to say the truth, was she at all insensible to the relief she might experience by her magnificent husband having the society of a friend, whose presence might occasionally excuse the necessity of her own, and leave her thereby at liberty to listen, in the retirement of her own apartments, to “those silent friends that ever please;” an indulgence which, if not absolutely denied to her, had been very greatly restricted since the Baron von Schwanberg had made her the partner of his greatness.

  But, by degrees, it seemed as if this particular friend of her husband’s was inclined to assume the right of being her particular friend also. Again and again, it chanced that when the Baron brought him to pay a daily visit of compliment to his lady, in her own particular sitting-room, he lingered behind, when the lord of the mansion retired; and, by degrees, this very superfluous degree of attention was rendered still more remarkable, and still more disagreeable, by his removing from the place he had occupied during the presence of the lady’s husband, and taking a seat next to her, often, indeed, on the very sofa she occupied.

  And then followed, before she could quite make up her mind as to the best mode of escaping this annoyance, the inconceivable audacity of his taking her hand, and holding it for several minutes in his, despite her very decided efforts to withdraw it.

  The Baroness von Schwanberg was one of the last women in the world to suspect a gentleman of falling in love with her; but it appeared to her impossible to suggest any other solution capable of explaining the extraordinary conduct of the Herr Walters.

  For several days, however, after his idea first occurred, she very earnestly endeavoured to persuade herself that it was impossible; and nothing but the persevering repetition of the offence could have induced her, at length, to confess to her husband that she did not like the manners of his friend, the Herr Walters; that he was a vast deal too familiar in his mode of addressing her, to suit her notions of propriety; and that she greatly wished that a time for his departure might be fixed as soon as possible.

  It would be difficult to conceive anything more ludicrous than the manner in which the Baron von Schwanberg listened to this remonstrance. He had cautiously avoided mentioning to his lady the profession of his guest, from the fear of endangering her health by creating a feeling of alarm; and it was, therefore, with no appearance of surprise, but with an aspect of the most serene satisfaction, that he now listened to her observations respecting the offensive familiarity of his manner.

  The Baron von Schwanberg had much too profound respect for the noble lineage of his lady, to make it easy for him to allow, even to himself, that she had any of the faults or defects to which inferior people are liable; but, nevertheless, there was one trait in her character to which, with all his efforts, he could not be wholly blind, and which, assuredly, often occasioned him something very nearly approaching to vexation. And no wonder, for this defect in lady’s character was the apparent absence of that noble feeling which the vulgar call pride, but which all higher classes of the human race more properly designate as a high-minded appreciation of their own position. It was, therefore, with a greater degree of satisfaction than can be easily imagined by persons differently situated, that the Baron von Schwanberg now listened to his lady’s indignant observations on the too great familiarity of the Herr Walters’ manners towards her.

  The baron was not of a caressing disposition, or he would probably have testified his feelings by giving his lady a warm embrace. But, although he did not do this, he testified his feelings in a manner equally eloquent, for he immediately stood up, and placing his right hand on his breast while he saluted her, by touching the left with his lips, he made her a very profound bow, and said, with an approving smile, as he recovered his perpendicular position:

  “Your feelings, my dear lady, are exactly what I would wish them to be. That you should resent anything, and everything, that could suggest the idea of impertinent familiarity, is not only what I should expect from the lady whom I have so carefully selected as my wife, but it is precisely what I should most honour and most admire in the lady of my choice. And now, having done this justice to you, and to myself, let me also do justice to the very respectable individual whom you have been led to consider as defective in that perfect respect and deference which your father’s daughter, and my wife, have such undoubted right to expect. And now permit me to explain to you the real cause of the conduct which has appeared to you as objectionable in the worthy Herr Walters.”

  And having said this, the Baron von Schwanberg sat himself down on the sofa beside his lady, and proceeded to explain to her the nature of the attention which their new inmate had bestowed upon her.

  There would be no use in attempting to describe the transition from one species of displeasure to another, which was the result of this confidential disclosure to the persecuted baroness, for it may be very easily imagined.

  The prevailing quality of her temper was gentleness, or, more correctly speaking, tranquillity. No lady living ever troubled herself less concerning the affairs of other people, nor was she at all disposed to suspect that other people took the liberty of troubling themselves about hers; and the now finding herself the object, and the avowed object, of the unceasing observation of her very particularly tiresome husband, and his professional assistant, was a sore trial to her usually dignified composure of manner.

  If the medical gentleman had touched her pulse at that moment, he would assuredly have felt himself called upon to declare that it made no very “healthful music;” but, fortunately for her patience, she escaped this trial; and when her observant spouse perceived that his statement respecting the Herr Walters’ position in his family caused a very considerable augmentation of colour on the delicate cheek of his lady, he permitted himself to look at her with a sort of patronizing smile, as he promised to indulge the timidity of her youthful shyness, as far as it was possible to do so without withdrawing the attention necessary to her precious health!

  “The timidity of her youthful shyness!” The feeling which her unsuspicious husband thus described, might have been called a movement of almost ungovernable rage, with much more justice.

  The baroness half rose from her chair, and her project was, probably, to leave the room; but she conquered herself sufficiently to resume her seat, and another moment enabled her to avoid the folly of expressing anger that would be equally unintelligible, and disregarded. For a second thought sufficed to suggest a wiser course. If their strange visitor was retained in the house for the express purpose of examining the state of her health, he might (she thought), if he had been as great a fool as his employer, have made himself still more troublesome than he had been already; and although his doing so might have saved her from the ridiculous blunder into which she had fallen, it would have left less hope of her being able to prevent his annoying her for the future.

  The destiny of the unfortunate baroness had, unhappily, precluded the possibility of her acting on any occasion wherein her husband was conce
rned, with the frankness and sincerity which was originally a part of her nature; and after meditating very seriously for the first few weeks after her marriage upon the comparative evils, and the comparative sins, attending a systematic course of falsehood, and a systematic course of truth, in her intercourse with him, she deliberately decided upon the former.

  It took but little time to prove to her, beyond the hope of mistake, that her husband was a pompous fool, incapable of acting from rational motives; incapable of forming a rational opinion; and pretty nearly incapable of uttering a rational word. Should she be doing right if she so conducted herself as to make it evident to himself, and to others, that such was the opinion she had thus formed of him? She thought not. And having come to this conclusion, she acted upon it with a steady, quiet perseverance, winch not only prevented his happiness from being troubled by any doubts concerning either his own wisdom or hers, but which puzzled many an intelligent looker-on as to the strange phenomenon of such a woman as the Baroness von Schwanberg thinking it right and proper (as she so evidently did), to listen with attention to the Baron von Schwanberg whenever he thought proper to speak; let his language be ever so frequent, or ever so long.

  At length, however, a very remarkably clever man, when discussing this puzzling subject with a friend, observed, that he saw but one way of accounting for it; which was, by supposing that the high-born baroness was at heart quite as proud as the highborn baron, although she did not betray the feeling so openly as her husband; “and in that case,” added his philosophical observer, “you may depend upon it, she really does think every word he utters is worth listening to.”