Billeder på siden
PDF
ePub

tone to feel that stupid wonder with which such a sight would impress a country peasant who had less intellect than himself. Quintin walked through Antwerp, feeling himself elevated, not made lower, by the grandeur around him. Thus, when he came into the presence of his future patron, no false shame or selfabasement made him show to disadvantage the talents he possessed. The wealthy Herr Schmidt was pleased with him, and Quintin was at once placed with a clever iron-worker in the city.

The country youth now began a new life, which required all his energies. Left almost entirely to his own guidance, he acted as became the good boy he had always been, when his mother's eye was upon him, and her precepts in his ears. But he had so long been accustomed to judge for himself and for her, that this complete independence was scarcely new to him. His sole regret was when, after his day's work, he returned to his lonely room in a narrow street, and missed the kind face and smile of welcome; when he had to prepare his frugal meal himself, and to eat it alone, without those almost invisible cares which a mother, sister, or wife's hand bestows, and which, though often unperceived and unacknowledged, yet sweeten the food. Then Quintin missed also the fragrant breath of country air coming in at his window; and while he grew taller, and his mind increased in strength and acquirements, his brown cheek became paler, and his frame more slender, through his city life. But Quintin had one grand object he wanted to grow rich, that his mother's closing days might know all the comforts of wealth. Another impulse, too, which he scarce acknowledged to himself, spurred him on. He had grown wiser, painfully wiser, since he had come to Antwerp. He then found out, for the first time, the difference the world shows between an artist's daughter and a poor blacksmith's son; that he and Lisa, when they grew up, could never call one another brother and sister. Other feelings than fraternal ones never entered into Quintin's simple mind; but he could not bear the thought of losing his sister Lisa; and the idea of raising his position in the world, so as to be able still to keep up the association with her, mingled in his ideas of gaining wealth for his mother to enjoy.

Quintin was not entirely without troubles, even in his good fortunes. His fellow-workmen envied his skill in fancy-working in iron, and many a plan was laid to injure the youth in his master's estimation. They stole from him his tools, complained of his overbearing conceit, and accused him of giving a false statement of his age, and representing himself as much younger than he really was, to gain his master's favour and approbation. This accusation Quintin's high spirit could ill brook. The principal weakness of his character was a want of gentleness, not surprising in one of his resolute temper, for the two qualities are seldom combined. He was more tried than ever he had been at

home, where his sole troubles came from without: he had none from within, for in the little household all was peace. This last allegation roused him to anger.

"I a liar!-I tell a lie!" cried the indignant boy; “I would not do it for the king himself. How dare you say so to my face!" and his eyes flashed with the violence of his feelings. His companions saw they had goaded him on too far: they said no more that day. Quintin went home, his spirit still chafing under the insult he had received, and there was no gentle Lisa to cast oil on the angry billows of his soul. The poor boy felt how lonely he was, and when he had shut the door, his anger melted into sorrow; he threw himself on his little bed, and covered his face, while hot tears of vexation, mingled with grief, burst through his fingers. His spirit was strong; but still Quintin was only a boy-not fifteen.

Next morning he rose, and went courageously to his work. He was making the iron cover to a well, wrought tastefully in a manner which he alone could do, therefore his master had intrusted him with it, and thus caused so much jealousy among the rest. When Quintin came to look for his tools, lo! hammer and file were gone. He inquired, first gently, then indignantly, for them; but his companions could not, or would not, give him a satisfactory answer. His anger kindled; but they only taunted him the more.

"How will you make your fine well cover without hammer or file?" cried one.

"Here is a pretty plight for the first workman in Antwerp to be in!" said another.

"The young genius will never finish his work!" exclaimed a third, bursting into a loud laugh.

"I will finish it though!" said Quintin, resolutely folding his arms, and standing before them with a determined air, though his face was very pale. "I will finish it, in spite of you all." He turned away, took up the rest of his tools, locked himup self and his work in another part of the establishment, took no heed of the daily taunts which he met with, until the given time expired. The master came, and asked for the well cover; it was done! Quintin had finished it, as he said he would, without hammer or file. How he accomplished it, no one could tell; but the workmanship was inimitable; and this testimony to the genius and determination of the young blacksmith may be seen to this day over a well near the cathedral of Antwerp.

VII.

DISAPPOINTMENTS.

Lisa's fears proved true: Quintin did not come home for several months, not until mid-winter; and when he did return, his

adopted sister was not there to welcome him. Lisa, the affectionate Lisa, had departed with her father for Italy some time before. When Quintin returned, all that he found was a sisterly message left with his mother for him, and a lock of hair-one curl of the bright golden tresses which he had so many times twisted round his fingers in play. Quintin had, indeed, lost his Sister Lisa.

This was not his only disappointment. He had ever been a delicate boy, and his constant work while at Antwerp, together with the confined air of the city, had injured his health. He was long before he would confess this to himself, for he could not bear to slacken in his exertions; so he still remained where he had abundance of work, sending the fruit of his earnings to his mother, and keeping but little for himself. At last his master, a kind-hearted man, saw the sad change in the boy, who, listless and feeble, went about his work mechanically, without a smile or a hope. He sent Quintin home on his own horse, for the boy was now too feeble to walk, as he had done on his first entrance into Antwerp. And thus weakened in health, Quintin Matsys came home to his mother.

He had not known of Lisa's departure, and the closed-up, uninhabited dwelling, as he passed it, gave him a sudden alarm. When he learned the truth, it was a bitter disappointment to him, for his gentle little playmate had become entwined with every fibre of Quintin's heart. However, his fond mother's caresses were very sweet to the boy, who had been so long without them. Illness made him feel doubly how precious is a mother's love.

It was well that Quintin returned home in time; for he had not been there long, before a slow fever, the result of his anxious toil for so many months, seized him, and he was many weeks unable to move from the bed on which he lay. When he recovered a little, he was as feeble as a child. Gretchen watched and nursed him as in the days of his infancy; only too thankful to be spared the one absorbing dread to lose him for ever, she did not think of the future. But when Quintin began to feel better, he pined over the good prospects his illness had blighted, and thought sadly how long a time must elapse before he would be able to follow his trade. This idea retarded his gaining strength, and gave a painful cast of anxiety to his thin and sharpened features, for which his mother could not account. She, thinking of nothing but him, had not noticed how gradually the earnings of the year had dwindled away; but Quintin often thought of this. One day Gretchen had propped up her son with pillows in his chair, and placed him in the warm noon by the open window. He looked so worn to a shadow, with his long hair grown thin and straggling, as the hair does in continued illness, falling over his attenuated face, and his large full eyes fixed with a melancholy gaze on the sky, that his mother could not refrain from

19

tears. She turned away, lest Quintin should see them, and busied herself with arranging her household affairs. She dusted the table and shelves, and then, in her search for more occupation, came to the silver cup where she kept her money. Many an anxious gaze had she often cast on that little cup; and now she uncovered it, by an irresistible curiosity, to see how much it contained, for she had not looked in it lately. There was but a single silver piece! Gretchen stood with it in her hand for some minutes, looking dolefully at the poor remnant of her treasure. Quintin turned his head feebly round.

"What are you doing there so long, mother?" he asked.

His mother closed the cup, but not before he had seen what she was doing. "How much money have you left, dear mother?” he said again; "not much I fear."

To conceal it would have distressed him more; so Gretchen showed her son the remaining coin.

Quintin's countenance fell-"Oh how unfortunate I am," he cried, “to have been ill here instead of gaining money! But I know I am nearly well-I am sure I can walk now." And he rose, but before he had moved three steps, he fell exhausted on the floor. Gretchen ran fearfully, and raised him; but all her consolations failed to reassure him. Quintin-the bravehearted Quintin-for the first time in his life sank into despair. He had still courage enough to conceal his feelings from his mother; but he could not speak, and she laid him in his bed, and sang him to sleep, as she had done when he was a little boy-not knowing how deep was the poor boy's misery and hopelessness.

But this feeling could not last long in one of such energy as Quintin Matsys. Morning brought with it strength and hope, for in the long wakeful hours of night he had thought of a good plan.

66 Mother," said Quintin, when she brought him his plain breakfast of milk and meal, and sat beside him, encouraging the slight appetite of the sick boy by all those persuasive words which loving hearts so well know how to use-" mother, I have been thinking of a way to gain money."

"Eat your breakfast, and tell me afterwards, my dear boy," said the anxious Gretchen. Quintin did so, and then began again to talk.

"You know, mother, when I was a child, I used to make all sorts of fanciful things in iron. Now, when I was at Antwerp, I saw that, in the grand religious processions, there were quantities of metal figures of saints used, and sold about the streets. I am sure I could make the same if I were to try; and the people buy such numbers, and give so high a price for them, you cannot think!" And Quintin, half raising himself, rested his elbow on the pillow, and looked anxiously in his mother's face. Gretchen smiled cheerfully, to encourage him. "I think it is an excellent plan," said she; "but you must make haste and get

strong, so as to be able to make these figures; and do not be too anxious, or you will be longer in recovering."

"I will promise everything," answered Quintin; and his face grew brighter, so that his mother wondered to see how much better he looked.

Hope is the best physician in the world. Now that Quintin had something to look forward to, it was surprising how fast he improved. He was soon able to move about the room, and in a little time began to make the figures. His youthful skill returned, together with his childish pleasure in the work. Sickness brings us back to the enjoyment of simple and infantile pleasures; it takes away all the false gloss of the world, and restores our souls, in some measure, to their early freshness; we feel again like children-child-like in our feebleness, child-like in our enjoyment of things that seem trifles to others.

Thus Quintin would sit for hours, contentedly forming the figures in clay with his thin white fingers, that were, alas ! incapable of harder work. Then he took moulds of them, into which his mother poured the molten metal, as Quintin had done in his first essay many years before. At last a number of graceful little figures were made, at which his proud mother lifted up her hands and eyes in admiration. She took them to a kind and honest neighbour, who was going to the grand festival at Antwerp; he sold them all, and faithfully brought back the money -a sum sufficiently large to maintain, until Quintin's complete restoration, the widow and her diligent boy.

VIII.

CHANGES.

It is an old and trite saying, how rapidly time urges on his flight: sometimes as a relentless, unsparing destroyer, but oftener as a swift-winged and beautiful angel, changing, yet not taking away, this world's blessings-making our past sorrows look dim in the distance, opening many flowers of pleasure on our way, and gradually ripening our souls for the great and glorious harvest of eternity.

Five years from the last epoch of our story, a young man sat all alone in a large cheerful room in the good city of Antwerp. The house was in one of the second-rate but respectable streets, and through the open windows might be distinguished the continuous trampling of feet, and the mingled sounds that rise up from a busy thoroughfare. The room where the young man sat was simply, but comfortably furnished: carved chairs, coarse but full hangings to the windows, and abundance of clean rushes strewed over the floor, showed that the occupier stood in no fear of poverty. His dress, too, though that of a plain burgher, was of good materials, carefully made, and well-arranged. The young

21

« ForrigeFortsæt »