He turned slowly to the gla.s.s door of the drawing-room where his wife stood looking as if framed, as she gazed after him anxiously.

He had reached her side followed by his son, when the barking of the dogs in the courtyard was heard, and soon afterwards voices sounded in the hall.

An old servant in a neat green livery opened the door, and the pastor Berger with his daughter Helena entered. The president, who had the greatest esteem for the clergyman, welcomed him warmly, and shook hands with him most heartily before he had time even to greet the lady of the house: and his daughters seized on Helena.

"We come," said the pastor, "according to our custom at the close of another year of your life, to return thanks to you for all the kindness you have shown us during that period, and we bring the lieutenant with us; we fell in with him on the road, and like a true cavalry soldier he has gone first to the stable to look after his horse."

"He has come," said Madame von Wendenstein with joy. "I feared he might not get leave."

The door opened hastily, and with quick steps and jingling spurs Lieutenant von Wendenstein hastened to his mother, who embraced him warmly, whilst he kissed her hand. He then went to his father, who kissed him on the cheeks and gazed with pride on the handsome young man as he stood before him with his upright military bearing.

"I am late," said the lieutenant, "because we have so much to do. My comrades desire me to say they will all come to congratulate you to-morrow, dear father, if possible, but we have an immense amount of work of all kinds. The yearly exercises are to take place earlier, the order has come quite suddenly, and you can imagine how much extra work this has given us."

After the lieutenant had shaken hands affectionately with his brother, he turned to his sisters and the pastor's daughter, and began a lively conversation with the three young girls and the auditor von Bergfeld, which was frequently interrupted by merry laughter, while the pastor with the president and his eldest son, joined Madame von Wendenstein at the large table before the sofa.

"It is very unusual," said the president, "this hastening of the exercises, of which my son spoke, and which I had before seen in the newspapers. Foreign affairs are not my province, and I generally trouble myself little about them, but how this measure can a.s.sist in the present grave crisis I do not understand."

"It is an exceptional means," replied his son, with the air of one of the initiated, "used to meet a complicated embarra.s.sment. The quarrel between Prussia and Austria grows sharper every day, and the German governments desire a mobilization of the confederacy's contingencies.

Prussia on the other hand requires strict neutrality, and the man[oe]uvres have been hastened to avoid the mobilization, and yet to have the troops in readiness should war break out."

"With all respect for your ministerial wisdom," replied his father, jokingly, "I cannot see what good it will do. If Prussia requires neutrality she will be as much hurt and disquieted by this irregularity as by mobilization itself, though the military preparations for actual war are much less complete, and Austria and her allies will see in this a withdrawal from their common interests. My opinion is, a decision should be made one way or the other. If war does not break out--as I still hope--nothing is lost, and if it comes, we have at least on one side a support and a strong position. What troubles me," he added thoughtfully and gravely, "I do not love the Prussians; we Hanoverians, from old wounds, feel little sympathy with Prussia. I regret that our army has been taken out of the old Hanoverian uniform, and put into a Prussian-like one; I regret still more that Herr von Beningsen and his national unionists have so completely brought us under Prussian ideas; but still I should prefer that we remained on a good footing with our great and dangerous neighbour, and that we joined in no hare-brained enterprise with Austria, in whom I have no confidence, and who has never done us or Germany any good; above all things, I would not that we, in our dangerously-exposed position, should sit upon two stools, and yet," he said, pausing, "that is what our rulers are doing. Our foreign minister, Count Platen, I do not know; I met him once in Hanover, and he appeared to be an affable and agreeable man, but Bacmeister I do know, and I know his character and his intellect,--what does he say to this measure?"

The government a.s.sessor cleared his throat and replied, "These things belong entirely to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and the War Office.

I do not know whether the measure has been discussed in a general council, certainly I have not heard my chief express his opinion, but he is always careful not to commit himself on any subject. In Hanover they quite believe hostilities will not really take place."

"G.o.d grant they may be right," cried the pastor with a sigh, "a German war! what a frightful misfortune, and I know not on which side my sympathy would lie; however the war ended, one of the two great German rivals would preponderate. I cannot wish for papist Austria with her Croatians, Pandurs and Sclaves; my own personal feeling draws me to our northern brothers, with whom we have so much in common, but that Prussian influence should be all-powerful in Germany without any counterpoise, I cannot certainly desire; from Berlin came the Rationalism now threatening the whole Protestant Church with its dangerous indifference. May G.o.d direct and enlighten our king that he may choose aright, and preserve the pure Lutheran church in our beloved Hanover."

"Yes, G.o.d grant us peace! for this I pray daily," said Madame von Wendenstein, looking anxiously at her youngest son, whose merry laugh had just been heard from the group of young people established in the window. "What sorrow, what misery war brings to every family, and what end is to be gained? Greater weight in the political scale for one or another power: I think if everyone would strive to make his own household and his own immediate circle better and happier the world would be more improved than by struggling after things which can give no true happiness to a single human being."

"There we have my true housewife," laughed the president; "what does not concern her house, her cellar, and her kitchen, is useless and pernicious, and according to her views statesmen should turn into a large family circle, and politics be thrown into the lumber room."

"And is not my honoured friend right?" said the pastor, smiling at Madame von Wendenstein; "is it not woman's duty to work for peace, and to cherish the seed we sow in the Lord's temple, that it may flower and bring forth fruit in the house? G.o.d gives to the mighty ones of the earth the right to draw the sword he has placed in their hand, they must do their duty and answer for it afterwards; but I believe the Eternal Father has more joy in the peaceful happiness of a united home than in the most talented combinations of policy, or the b.l.o.o.d.y laurels of the battle-field."

"Well," said the president, "we cannot alter the course of events, so let us think of nourishing our own bodies; that will, I am sure, do us all good."

The old servant had thrown open two large folding-doors on one side of the drawing-room, and the s.p.a.cious dining-room, with a table ready laid and lighted with ma.s.sive silver branches, appeared, whilst a most appetizing odour of cookery invited everyone to enter and partake.

The president rose. The pastor gave his arm to the lady of the house, and led her to the dining-room, followed by the rest of the party, who were soon seated around the table in the plainly-furnished room ornamented with stags' antlers and deer's heads, enjoying the excellent dinner provided by the house steward, and the choice specimens of the treasures in the cellars. There was plenty of cheerful conversation, but nothing was said about politics.

In the meantime there was great excitement in one of the princ.i.p.al houses of the semi-circular village, usually so quiet. The large hall, the door of which was wide open, was brightly lighted and filled with different groups of young peasant men and maidens in their best Sunday costumes; the strongly-built young fellows wore jackets and hats trimmed with fur, the maidens short, close-fitting dresses and white handkerchiefs, with bright-coloured ribbons in their thick plaits of hair.

Fresh guests continually arrived and joined the young people already a.s.sembled, while the other inhabitants of the village, the older peasants and children, walked up and down, and looked in at their young friends.

Old farmer Deyke, one of the princ.i.p.al farmers of the Blechow estate, a widower for some years, inhabited the large farm-house with his only son Fritz. He went from group to group, and his old rigid, sharply-marked countenance, with its cunning, piercing dark eyes, beneath bushy eyebrows, showed itself capable of very different expressions. Now it a.s.sumed jocular good nature, as he pressed the hand of a rich farmer's son and whispered in his ear some tale of his own youth; now his face expressed benevolent condescension, as he said an encouraging word to a poorer neighbour; now cold reserve as he returned the salutation of some young man not quite in good repute in the neighbourhood, but whom he was too hospitable not to entertain on such an occasion.

His son Fritz went about amongst his friends with much less dignity. He was a slight but strong young man, with kind, true blue eyes, and flaxen hair cut short in the military fashion. He joked with the girls, and must have said very merry things, for they put their heads together, and laughed and t.i.ttered, until they got red in the face, long after the old farmer's merry son had left them and gone on to another group; and then he went up to the young men, and seizing two of them under the arms, led them to the table at one end of the hall covered with a white cloth, and crowded with beer-jugs, hams, bread, and cold beef. It was evident that Fritz was immensely popular.

He was very good-looking, beloved by young and old, and as the only son and heir of the rich Deyke, the holder of the largest farm in the neighbourhood, all the pretty girls belonging to the best peasant families looked after him with beating hearts and unspoken hopes, and there was no father or mother in the village but would have received him as a son-in-law with the greatest joy.

But he was unscathed amongst all these pretty peasant girls; he joked and laughed with them all, danced with them all at country festivities, gave first one and then another a bouquet from his father's well-kept garden, or a ribbon or a picture from the store of some travelling dealer, and these gifts raised the hopes of the pretty Blechow girls; but he never went any further, or seemed to see the kind looks of the daughters, or to notice the encouraging hints of the fathers and mothers. None of the young men felt jealous of him, he was never a rival, he took every opportunity of treating his young friends, and spent the thalers, with which his father plentifully supplied him, quite as much on their pleasures as on his own.

The young people all made way, and left the centre of the hall free as the village schoolmaster entered, a simple-looking old man, in a black coat and a black c.o.c.ked hat.

The elder Deyke greeted him in a manner that showed he respected the position and character of his guest, but felt himself a person of much greater importance, but his son hastily seized his old master's hand, and cried: "We are all ready, Herr Niemeyer, and it is time to go to the castle; the president sat down to dinner half an hour ago, and it will be another half hour before we are all there and prepared, so forwards! forwards!"

He quickly arranged all the young people in couples, first the young men, then the girls, and to each young man he gave a pine-wood torch from a large heap which lay ready on one side of the hall, and some matches for lighting them. He then seized the arm of the schoolmaster, and with his father they headed the procession, which silently moved towards the castle, whilst the older villagers looked on with interest, and then followed, whispering together.

The president's cheerful dinner had come to an end. The old butler removed the cover of an enormous Saxony china bowl standing on a side table, from which came the delightful aroma of Scharzhofberger Moselle, mingled with the perfume of the pine-apple slices floating in the wine.

He uncorked some bottles of Champagne, poured the contents into the bowl, put in the large silver ladle, and placed it on the table before the president, who, after tasting and approving the mixture, filled large gla.s.ses for all his guests.

The pastor raised his gla.s.s, inhaled the delicious fragrance for a moment with visible respect, admired the light bright yellow colour, and then spoke in a way happily combining the clergyman with the old friend of the family:

"My dear friends! our worthy president, around whose hospitable board we are now a.s.sembled, enters to-morrow upon a new year of his active and useful life. To-morrow we shall greet the new year; to-day let us take leave of the past. The cares and troubles it brought our friend are over, and have only led to good; the happiness he has bestowed on so many, the cheerful hours he has caused, should be remembered to strengthen and refresh him in the evil moments the future will bring even to him, as to all the dwellers on the earth, as long as darkness and light wrestle together. May the remembrance of the past year urge us all to continue true to one another in love and friendship. Let us dedicate this quiet gla.s.s to the memory of the past year of our dear president's life." And putting his gla.s.s to his lips, he emptied it to the dregs.

They all followed his example, the ladies not excepted, for from the simple, healthy life they led, they did not fear a gla.s.s of generous wine as the more delicate specimens of the fair s.e.x usually do in large cities.

"G.o.d grant, my friends, that at the close of the next year, which looks so threatening, we may all be sitting here as happy and as cheerful as we are now," said the president, with emotion in his face and voice; "and now," he added cheerfully, as he felt general conversation could not be again resumed, "let us rise and smoke the pipe of peace. John, bring the bowl, we will have another word with that."

The whole party rose and returned to the drawing-room. They found the doors leading into the hall set open; the enormous house-door was also thrown wide open, so that they saw right into the courtyard, with the old linden-tree in the midst. It was lighted up with dark red flames, and amidst the ma.s.ses of smoke which here and there interrupted the fiery waves, groups of men appeared, their movements looking strangely fantastic in the reflections of the flames, and from them came the sound of whispering voices.

The president was amazed and even alarmed, for his first idea was that a fire had broken out in his stables; but the old servant stepped up to him and whispered: "The young people from the village wish to serenade you, sir, the evening before your birthday."

The president, who had been about to hasten into the courtyard, paused, a look of happy emotion shining in his eyes. The pastor, who was prepared for the surprise, exchanged a smile with the lady of the house, and the young people gazed inquisitively into the courtyard.

After the president appeared, there was a moment of deep silence; then strong, clear voices raised the simple touching chorale, "Oh! G.o.d, our help in ages past."

"Wer nun den lieben Gott laszt walten."

The full ringing sounds, and the dark red light of the torches streamed through the large hall and entered the room where the family stood, while from the large window on the garden side the full moon shone brightly in from the dark evening sky, and shed long streams of light upon the floor.

The president stood still, surrounded by those he loved in his quiet home, the calm light of the moon falling upon him, as if it were the farewell greeting of the past year. Was the uncertain, blood-red light filling the courtyard the picture of the coming year? Yet from the fiery light came the old pious hymn which has so often strengthened and comforted men's hearts. Let the Future come; if she brings strife and sorrow, she will also bring strength and consolation.

Such thoughts as these pa.s.sed through the mind of the president. His wife, who had placed herself beside him, had folded her hands together and slightly bowed her head.

"O G.o.d, our help in ages past, Our hope in years to come, Our shelter from the stormy blast, And our eternal home,"[3]

resounded. The old lady gazed at her soldier-son, whose eyes shone with pleasure at the picturesque effect produced by the torchlight on the groups of peasants, and on the buildings around the court. Her hands were more tightly clasped, her lips moved in silent prayer, and a tear ran slowly down her cheek; then she bent her head lower, and listened without moving to the end of the chorale.

When the sounds had quite died away, a general movement commenced. Old Deyke and the schoolmaster entered; and the former said, in his most important and dignified manner, the schoolmaster standing meekly behind him: "Herr President, the young people have had the honour of welcoming your approaching birthday by a serenade; the schoolmaster has instructed them"--(he looked round, and the poor man bowed shyly, trying not to feel as if all eyes were upon him). "They came and consulted me, and I saw no objection; for, Herr President, you are well aware the whole village feels interested in your family festival; yes, and we know you rejoice that we should show how much we have your happiness and that of your worthy family at heart. My only anxiety was lest the sudden commotion before the house might"--and he turned to Madame von Wendenstein--"alarm your honoured lady; but the schoolmaster said it must be a surprise, or the whole point would be lost."

"Thank you--thank you all from my whole heart. My good old Deyke!"

exclaimed the president, warmly shaking his hand, "you have given me the greatest pleasure, and such an alarm as this will never injure my wife."

"Certainly not," said Madame von Wendenstein, whose face had recovered all its quiet cheerfulness. She offered the old peasant her small white hand, which he took with a certain amount of care, and added: "I thank you heartily for your affection to my husband."