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Read books online » Fiction » Marie Grubbe by Jens Peter Jacobsen (black male authors txt) 📖

Book online «Marie Grubbe by Jens Peter Jacobsen (black male authors txt) đŸ“–Â». Author Jens Peter Jacobsen



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to favor. So it was

decided that in the spring they should both go to Copenhagen. In the

meantime Marie was to try to get from Johan Utrecht two hundred

rix-dollars to buy mourning so that she could appear properly before

the new king, but as the bailiff did not dare to pay out anything

without order from Ulrik Frederik, Marie had to go without the

mourning, for her father would not pay for it and thought the lack of

it would make her pitiful condition the more apparent.

 

They arrived in Copenhagen toward the end of May, and when a meeting

between father and son-in-law had proved fruitless, Erik Grubbe wrote

to the King that he had no words to describe in due submission the

shame, disgrace, and dishonor with which his Excellency Gyldenlove

had some years ago driven his wife, Marie Grubbe, out of Aggershus and

had given her over to the mercies of wind and weather and freebooters

who at that time infested the sea, there being a burning feud between

Holland and England. God in his mercy had preserved her from the

above-mentioned mortal dangers, and she had returned to his home in

possession of life and health. Nevertheless, it was an unheard-of

outrage that had been inflicted upon her, and he had time and again

with letters, supplications, and tears of weeping besought his noble

and right honorable son, my lord his Excellency, that he would

consider of this matter and either bring proofs against Marie why the

marriage should be annulled or else take her back, but all in vain.

Marie had brought him a fortune of many thousand rix-dollars, and she

had not even been able to get two hundred rix-dollars with which to

buy mourning dress. In brief, her misery was too manifold to be

described, wherefore they now addressed themselves to his Majesty the

King, appealing to the natural kindness and condescension of their

most gracious sovereign with the prayer that he would for God’s sake

have mercy upon him, Erik Grubbe, for his great age, which was seven

and sixty years, and upon her for her piteous condition and be

graciously pleased to command his Excellency Gyldenlove that he should

either bring proof against Marie of that for which Christ said married

persons should be parted, which, however, he would never be able to

do, or else take her back, whereby the glory of God would be

furthered, the state of marriage held in honor as God had Himself

ordained, great cause of offence removed, and a soul be saved from

perdition.

 

Marie at first refused to put her name to this document, since she was

determined not to live with Ulrik Frederik whatever happened, but her

father assured her that the appeal to her husband to take her back was

merely a matter of form. The fact was that Ulrik Frederik now wanted a

divorce at any price and the wording of the petition would put the

onus of demanding it upon him, thus securing for her better terms.

Marie finally yielded and even added a postscript, written according

to her father’s dictation as follows:

 

I would fain have spoken with your Royal Majesty, but, miserable woman

that I am, I have no dress proper to appear among people. Have pity on

my wretchedness, most gracious Monarch and King, and help me! God will

reward you.

 

As she did not put much faith in Erik Grubbe’s assurances, she managed

to get a private letter into the hands of the King through one of her

old friends at court. In this she told him plainly how she loathed

Ulrik Frederik, how eagerly she longed to be legally parted from him,

and how she shrank from having even the slightest communication with

him in regard to the settlement of money matters.

 

Yet Erik Grubbe had for once spoken the truth. Ulrik Frederik really

wanted a divorce. His position at court as the King’s half-brother was

very different from that of the King’s favorite son. He could no

longer trust to fatherly partiality but simply had to compete with the

men about him for honor and emoluments. To have such a case as this

pending did not help to strengthen his position.lt would be much

better to make an end of it as quickly as possible and seek

compensation in a new and wiser marriage for whatever the divorce

might cost him in fortune or reputation. So he brought all his

influence to bear to reach this end.

 

The King laid the case before the Consistory, and this body delivered

a report, following which the marriage was dissolved by judgment of

the Supreme Court, October fourteenth, sixteen hundred and seventy.

Both parties were to have the right to marry again, and Marie Grubbe’s

twelve thousand rix-dollars were to be refunded to her with all her

other dowry of jewels and estates. As soon as the money had been paid

over to her, she began preparations to leave the country without

listening to her father’s remonstrances. As for Ulrik Frederik, he

wrote his half-sister, wife of Johan Georg, Elector of Saxony, telling

her of his divorce and asking if she would show him so much sisterly

kindness that he might flatter himself with the hope of receiving a

bride from her royal hands.

CHAPTER XIV

Marie Grubbe had never had money of her own, and the possession of a

large sum gave her a sense of powers and possibilities without limit.

Indeed, it seemed to her that a veritable magic wand had been placed

in her hands, and she longed like a child to wave it round and round

and bring all the treasures of the earth to her feet.

 

Her most immediate wish was to be far away from the towers of

Copenhagen and the meadows of Tjele, from Erik Grubbe and Aunt

Rigitze. She waved the wand once, and lo! she was carried by wheel

and keel over water and way from the land of Sjaslland to Lubeck

town. Her whole retinue consisted of the maid Lucie, whom she had

persuaded her aunt to let her have, and a trader’s coachman from

Aarhus, for the real outfitting for her trip was to be done at

Lubeck.

 

It was Sti Hogh who had put into her head the idea of travelling, and

in doing so, he had hinted that he might himself leave the country to

seek his fortune abroad and had offered his services as courier.

Summoned by a letter from Copenhagen, he arrived in Lubeck a

fortnight after Marie and at once began to make himself useful by

attending to the preparations necessary for so long a journey.

 

In her secret heart Marie had hoped to be a: benefactor to poor Sti

Hogh. She meant to use some of her wealth to lighten his expenses on

the trip and in France until it should appear whether some other

fountain would well in his behalf. But when poor Sti Hogh came, he

surprised her by being splendidly attired, excellently mounted,

attended by two magnificent grooms, and altogether looking as if his

purse by no means needed to be swelled by her gold.

 

More astonishing yet was the change in his state of mind. He seemed

lively, even merry. In the past he had always looked as if he were

marching with stately step in his own funeral procession, but now he

trod the floor with the air of a man who owned half the world and had

the other half coming to him. In the old days there had always been

something of the plucked fowl about him, but now he seemed like an

eagle, with spreading plumage and sharp eyes hinting of still sharper

claws.

 

Marie at first thought the change was due to his relief in casting

behind him past worries and his hope of winning a future worth while,

but when he had been with her several days and had not opened his lips

to one of the lovesick, dispirited words she knew so well, she began

to believe he had conquered his passion and now, in the sense of

proudly setting his heel on the head of the dragon love, felt free and

strong and master of his own fate. She grew quite curious to know

whether she had guessed aright and thought with a slight feeling of

pique that the more she saw of Sti Hogh, the less she knew him.

 

This impression was confirmed by a talk she had with Lucie. The two

were walking in the large hall which formed a part of every Lubeck

house, serving as entry and living-room, as playground for the

children and the scene of the chief household labors, besides being

used sometimes for dining room and storehouse. This particular hall

was intended chiefly for warm weather and was furnished only with a

long white-scoured deal table, some heavy wooden chairs, and an old

cupboard. At the farther end some boards had been put up for shelves,

and there cabbages lay in long rows over red mounds of carrots and

bristling bunches of horse-radish. The outer door was wide open and

showed the wet, glistening street, where the rain splashed in shining

rivulets.

 

Marie Grubbe and Lucie were both dressed to go out, the former in a

fur-bordered cloak of broadcloth, the latter in a cape of gray russet.

They were pacing the red brick floor with quick, firm little steps as

though trying to keep their feet warm while waiting for the rain to

stop.

 

“Pray, d’you think it’s a safe travelling companion you’ve got?”

asked Lucie.

 

“Sti Hogh? Safe enough, I suppose. Why not?”

 

“Faith, I hope he won’t lose himself on the way, that’s all.”

 

“Lose himself?”

 

“Ay, among the German maidens—or the Dutch, for the matter of that.

You know ‘tis said of him his heart is made of such fiery stuff it

bursts into flame at’ the least flutter of a petticoat.”

 

“Who’s taken you to fools’ market with such fables?”

 

“Merciful! Did you never hear that? Your own brother-in-law? Who’d

have thought that could be news to you! Why, I’d as lief have thought

to tell you the week had seven days.”

 

“Come, come, what ails you today? You run on as if you’d had Spanish

wine for breakfast.”

 

“One of us has, that’s plain. Pray have you never heard tell of

Ermegaard Lynow?”

 

“Never.”

 

“Then ask Sti Hogh if he should chance to know her. And name to him

Jydte Krag and Christence Rud and Edele Hansdaughter and Lene Poppings

if you like. He might happen to know some fables, as you call it,

about them all.”

 

Marie stopped and looked long and fixedly through the open door at the

rain. “Perhaps you know,” she said as she resumed her walk, “perhaps

you know some of these fables so that you can tell them.”

 

“Belike I do.”

 

“Concerning Ermegaard Lynow?”

 

“Concerning her in particular.”

 

“Well, let’s have it.”

 

“Why, it had to do with one of the Hoghs—Sti, I think his name

was—tall, red-haired, pale—”

 

“Thanks, but all that I know already.”

 

“And do you know about the poison too?”

 

“Nay, nothing.”

 

“Nor the letter?”

 

“What letter?”

 

“Faugh, ‘t is such an ugly story!”

 

“Out with it!”

 

“Why, this Hogh was a very good friend—this happened before he was

married—and he was the very best of friends with Ermegaard Lynow. She

had the longest hair of any lady—she could well-nigh walk on it, and

she was red and white and pretty as a doll, but he was harsh and

barbarous to her, they said, as if she’d been an unruly staghound and

not the gentle creature she was, and the more

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