Ladies Tailor Master

[Miriam]

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The wind whistles in the old willow tree. It is as if one werehearing a song; the wind sings it; the tree tells it. If you donot understand it, then ask old Johanne in the poor house; sheknows about it; she was born here in the parish.

Many years ago, when the King's Highway still layalong here, the tree was already large and conspicuous. It stood,as it still stands, in front of the tailor's whitewashed timberhouse, close to the ditch, which then was so large that thecattle could be watered there, and where in the summertime thelittle peasant boys used to run about naked and paddle in thewater. Underneath the tree stood a stone milepost cut from a bigrock; now it is overturned, and a bramblebush grows over it.

The new King's Highway was built on the other side ofthe rich farmer's manor house; the old one became a field path;the ditch became a puddle overgrown with duckweed; if a frogtumbled down into it, the greenery was parted, and one saw theblack water; all around it grew, and still grow, "muskedonnere,"buckbean, and yellow iris.

The tailor's house was old and crooked; the roof wasa hotbed for moss and houseleek. The dovecot had collapsed, andstarlings built their nests there. The swallows hung nest afternest on the house gable and all along beneath the roof; it wasjust as if luck itself lived there.

And once it had; now, however, this was a lonely andsilent place. Here in solitude lived weak-willed "Poor Rasmus,"as they called him. He had been born here; he had played here,had leaped across meadow and over hedge, had splashed, as achild, in the ditch, and had climbed up the old tree. The treewould raise its big branches with pride and beauty, just as itraises them yet, but storms had already bent the trunk a little,and time had given it a crack. Wind and weather have since lodgedearth in the crack, and there grow grass and greenery; yes, andeven a little serviceberry has planted itself there.

When in spring the swallows came, they flew about thetree and the roof and plastered and patched their old nests,while Poor Rasmus let his nest stand or fall as it liked. Hismotto was, "What good will it do?" - and it had been hisfather's, too.

He stayed in his home. The swallows flew away, butthey always came back, the faithful creatures! The starling flewaway, but it returned, too, and whistled its song again. OnceRasmus had known how, but now he neither whistled nor sang.

The wind whistled in the old willow tree then, justas it now whistles; indeed, it is as if one were hearing a song;the wind sings it; the tree tells it. And if you do notunderstand it, then ask old Johanne in the poorhouse; she knowsabout it; she knows about everything of old; she is like a bookof chronicles, with inscriptions and old recollections.

At the time the house was new and good, the countrytailor, Ivar lse, and his wife, Maren, moved into it -industrious, honest folk, both of them. Old Johanne was then achild; she was the daughter of a wooden-shoemaker - one of thepoorest in the parish. Many a good sandwich did she receive fromMaren, who was in no want of food. The lady of the manor houseliked Maren, who was always laughing and happy and neverdownhearted. She used her tongue a good deal, but her hands also.She could sew as fast as she could use her mouth, and, moreover,she cared for her house and children; there were nearly a dozenchildren - eleven altogether; the twelfth never made itsappearance.

"Poor people always have a nest full of youngsters,"growled the master of the manor house. "If one could drown themlike kittens, and keep only one or two of the strongest, it wouldbe less of a misfortune!"

"God have mercy!" said the tailor's wife. "Childrenare a blessing from God; they are such a delight in the house.Every child is one more Lord's prayer. If times are bad, and onehas many mouths to feed, why, then a man works all the harder andfinds out ways and means honestly; our Lord fails not when we donot fail."

The lady of the manor house agreed with her; shenodded kindly and patted Maren's cheek; she had often done so,yes, and had kissed her as well, but that had been when the ladywas a little child and Maren her nursemaid. The two were fond ofeach other, and this feeling did not wane.

Each year at Christmastime winter provisions wouldarrive at the tailor's house from the manor house - a barrel ofmeal, a pig, two geese, a tub of butter, cheese, and apples. Thatwas indeed an asset to the larder. Ivar lse looked quitepleased, too, but soon came out with his old motto, "What goodwill it do?"

The house was clean and tidy, with curtains in thewindows, and flowers as well, both carnations and balsams. Asampler hung in a picture frame, and close by hung a love letterin rhyme, which Maren lse herself had written; she knew howto put rhymes together. She was almost a little proud of thefamily name lse; it was the only word in the Danishlanguage that rhymed with plse (sausage). "At leastthat's an advantage to have over other people," she said, andlaughed. She always kept her good humor, and never said, like herhusband, "What good will it do?" Her motto was, "Depend onyourself and on our Lord." So she did, and that kept them alltogether. The children thrived, grew out over the nest, went outinto the world, and prospered well.

Rasmus was the smallest; he was such a pretty childthat one of the great portrait painters in the capital hadborrowed him to paint from, and in the picture he was as naked aswhen he had come into this world. That picture was now hanging inthe King's palace. The lady of the manor house saw it, andrecognized little Rasmus, though he had no clothes on.

"One must not be downhearted," said Maren. "It neverhelps to hang the head. Now that we no longer have father's twohands to help us, I must try to use mine all the faster. LittleRasmus, too, can use the needle." He was already sitting on thesewing table, whistling and singing. He was a happy boy. "But heshould not sit there the whole day long," said the mother; "thatwould be a shame for the child. He should play and jump about,too."

The shoemaker's Johanne was his favorite playmate.Her folks were still poorer than Rasmus'. She was not pretty. Shewent about barefooted, and her clothes hung in rags, for she hadno one to mend them, and to do it herself did not occur to her -she was a child, and as happy as a bird in our Lord'ssunshine.

By the stone milepost, under the large willow tree,Rasmus and Johanne played. He had ambitious thoughts; he wouldone day become a fine tailor and live in the city, where therewere master tailors who had ten workmen at the table; this he hadheard from his father. There he would be an apprentice, and therehe would become a master tailor, and then Johanne could come tovisit him; and if by that time she knew how to cook, she couldprepare the meals for all of them and have a large apartment ofher own. Johanne dared not expect that, but Rasmus believed itcould happen. They sat beneath the old tree, and the windwhistled in the branches and leaves; it seemed as if the windwere singing and the tree talking.

The master and lady of the manor house remained therein the country over Christmas, but the week after the new year,they were to go to the city, where they would spend the winter infestivity and amusement. They would even go to a reception andball given by the King himself. The lady had bought two richdresses from France; they were of such material, of such fashion,and so well sewn that the tailor's Maren had never seen suchmagnificence. She asked the lady if she might come up to thehouse with her husband, so that he could see the dresses as well.Such things had surely never been seen by a country tailor, shesaid. He saw them and had not a word to say until he returnedhome, and what he did say was only what he always said, "Whatgood will it do?" And this time he spoke the truth.

The master and lady of the manor house went to thecity, and the balls and merrymaking began. But amid all thesplendor the old gentleman died, and the lady then, after all,did not wear her grand dresses. She was so sorrowful and wasdressed from head to foot in heavy black mourning. Not so much asa white tucker was to be seen. All the servants were in black;even the state coach was covered with fine black cloth.

It was an icy-cold night; the snow glistened and thestars twinkled. The heavy hearse brought the body from the cityto the country church, where it was to be laid in the familyvault. The steward and the parish bailiff were waiting onhorseback, with torches, in front of the cemetery gate. Thechurch was lighted up, and the pastor stood in the open churchdoor to receive the body. The coffin was carried up into thechancel; the whole congregation followed. The pastor spoke, and apsalm was sung. The lady was present in the church; she had beendriven there in the black-draped state coach, which was blackinside as well as outside; such a carriage had never before beenseen in the parish.

"The words you heard over there, little Rasmus, werenot your father's; it was the evil one who was passing throughthe room and took your father's voice. Say your Lord's Prayer.We'll both say it." She folded the child's hands. "Now I am happyagain," she said. "Have faith in yourself and in our Lord."

The year of mourning came to and end. The widow ladydressed in half mourning, but she had whole happiness in herheart. It was rumored that she had a suitor and was alreadythinking of marriage. Maren knew something about it, and thepastor knew a little more.

On Palm Sunday, after the sermon, the banns ofmarriage for the widow lady and her betrothed were to bepublished. He was a wood carver or a sculptor; just what the nameof his profession was, people did not know; at that time not manyhad heard of Thorvaldsen and his art. The future master of themanor was not a nobleman, but still he was a very stately man.His was one profession that people did not understand, they said;he cut out images, was clever in his work and young and handsome."What good will it do?" said Tailor lse.

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