The snow man

by George Sand

“Olaus showed no vexation, but it is asserted that he was, in fact, extremely chagrined, and that he lamented to those in his confidence the unjust fate which drove away from the heritage of his fathers a person like himself, accustomed to a country life, and fond of quiet, in order to bestow this beautiful residence upon an inconstant and restless being like Adelstan. By such complaints, by the friendly familiarity of his manners, and by liberal gifts bestowed upon the numerous retainers of the house, he formed for himself a party of adherents who soon threatened to impede the elder brother in managing his affairs, and even in maintaining his domestic authority.

“My father, who was obliged to remain here some weeks, while concluding the settlement of the estate, perceived all this, but he had grown weary of these constant family dissensions, and probably he did less than justice to the frank and loyal character of the elder brother. He seems to have been very much influenced by the plausible manners and apparent goodness of heart of Olaus, and, except where questions of equity were concerned, in which case my father was rigorously impartial, the younger brother was his favorite. My father went away after having endeavored to arrange for the residence of both brothers at the chateau. Olaus was anxious to retain at least a foothold at Stollborg, but Adelstan refused to allow him this privilege, with a firmness that seemed somewhat harsh.

“As soon as Olaus left for Stockholm, where he proposed to establish himself, Adelstan sent for his wife, who, during these discussions about the property, had been residing with a friend at Falun, together with her young son, then only a few months old, and the young couple went to housekeeping at Waldemora. And now it was, after many suspicions and much gossiping talk, that a secret was discovered—or so it was stated—which the young people had hitherto concealed from the public. Baroness Hilda was said to be a Catholic. She had been brought up in France, and there—according to the stories in circulation—in compliance with the wishes of an aunt and the circle of her friends, had imprudently devoted herself to theological studies, and had been led away by the pride of knowledge to abjure the religion of her fathers, which she was taught to believe was of too recent date. It was even said that false miracles had been employed, so as to extort from her imprudent vows. On these points I can give you no information of any kind. I might have been acquainted with the baroness, but no opportunity occurred of bringing us together, and we never met. She is said to have been very intelligent, and thoroughly educated. It is quite possible that she may have changed her religion from conscientious motives and intellectual conviction; and, for my part, I acquit her on this charge with a great deal of philosophy. Unfortunately, the public could not be brought to do this. In Sweden, there is a very strong attachment to the established religion, and the dissenters are so few that they are at once marked out from the rest of the community. They are frequently rebuked, and even persecuted; not so cruelly as in less enlightened times, but with sufficient harshness to render their lives painful and miserable. The law even admits of their being exiled.

“A terrific scandal therefore arose, when it was discovered, or was supposed to be so, that the baroness, who had always been rather lax in her attendance at the parish church, had secretly erected a chapel to the Virgin Mary in this very old donjon; where, unable to command the services of a priest of her religion, she was in the habit of offering up special and private prayers of her own. This secret worship the peasants regarded as little better than sorcery. However, as the baroness did not attempt to make proselytes, and never spoke of her religion, the matter was gradually hushed up. She did a great deal of good, and her lovely character overcame many prejudices.

“The young couple had now been established at Waldemora for about three years, with their one son, whom they idolized. The sweet temper of the baroness had modified the slight harshness of her husband’s disposition, which arose from his uncompromising independence and integrity of character. They were beloved and appreciated; and both the retainers of the family and the neighbors were beginning to forget all about Olaus, notwithstanding the letters that he frequently wrote, so as to have the pleasure of signing himself ‘The poor exile!’ Pastor Mickelson, the minister of the parish, whose church you probably saw about half a league from here, was Olaus’s most faithful adherent. Olaus had always made a great display of piety; while Adelstan’s toleration was excessively vexatious to the pastor, who was somewhat fanatical in his Lutheranism. The baron, moreover, had exerted his influence to have a certain ceremony of the divine service discontinued: namely, the employment of a certain staff which the beadle used in his official duty of awakening those who fell asleep during the sermon. The question was brought before the bishop, who decided upon a compromise; the beadle was to be allowed to tickle the noses of the sleepers with a switch, but not to rap them over the head with the stick. The pastor never forgave Baron Adelstan for this assault upon his authority, and still less the young baroness, who was said to have laughed at this Dalecarlian method of enforcing devotion by blows with a staff. He never ceased annoying the young iarl and his wife, and was always stirring up against them the country people; themselves very prone to religious intolerance.

“In the meanwhile, the young couple persevered in trying to promote improvements on their estate. The baron was severe in dealing with abuses, and drove off without pity all persons of disreputable character; he also put an end to the shameful practice of inflicting stripes on servants, and to the humiliating relics of the past serfage of the country people. The Dalecarlian peasant is usually well disposed, but he is as far as possible from being a friend of progress. Many of them were loath to part with the old abuses, and found it difficult to reconcile themselves to asserting their personal dignity.

“One day—truly a most unhappy day—the baron was obliged to go to Stockholm on business; and as it was the time of the autumn rains, which made travelling difficult, and often impracticable, he was obliged to leave his wife behind at the chateau. As he was returning to his home in about a fortnight from this time, Baron Adelstan was assassinated in the gorges of Falun. He had travelled on horseback; and, in his impatience to see his beloved Hilda, had ridden on in advance, leaving his people to finish a meal which seemed to him rather too protracted. He was then thirty-three years old, and his widow twenty-four.

“This murder made a great excitement, and astounded the whole country. In many districts the Dalecarlians are fierce and passionate, and among these mountains the Norwegian duel, with knives, is still in vogue, but such a thing as a cowardly and secret assassination is almost unexampled. The people in the vicinity did not venture to accuse any one, and indeed they had no grounds for doing so. Certain foreign miners disappeared suddenly from Falun, but they could not be traced. Baron Adelstan had not been robbed, and there was but one person in the world for whose interest it was to get rid of him. Some whispered cautiously the name of Baron Olaus; but the majority rejected such a suspicion with horror, and my father first of all.

“Baron Olaus appeared overwhelmed with despair at his brother’s death. He hastened into the country, weeping and lamenting rather too ostentatiously, perhaps, and testifying the most disinterested devotion to his sister-in-law. Every one was very much edified by his conduct, except the baroness herself, who received him with extreme coldness, and, after several hours, requested him to leave her alone with her grief; for which she could not be consoled. The baron accordingly left, to the great regret of the retainers of the family, whom he had quite overpowered with gifts and kindness. On the very evening of his departure, little Harold, the son of the baroness, was taken with convulsions, and died before morning.

“Driven quite to despair by this final blow, the unhappy mother lost all prudence, and loudly accused Olaus of having first caused the assassination of her husband, and then of poisoning her child, so as to get possession of their fortune. But her cries were unanswered—they did not even reach the outer world. There was no skilful physician within reach, to verify the nature of the child’s death, and none of her domestics chose to run the risk of seeking for proofs against Baron Olaus. Pastor Mickelson, who practised as a physician in his parish, declared that Harold had died as children often do, from the effects of teething, and that the poor baroness was unjust and insane; which, unfortunately, was very possible.