LETTER LIX.
September 15.
ONE is tempted to wish one's self at the devil, when one thinks
of all the contemptible beings which Heaven suffers to crawl upon
this earth, without any feeling, without any idea of the things
which may be interesting to others. You remember the walnut-trees
at S----, under which I sat with Charlotte at the worthy old
vicar's. These beautiful, these beloved trees, how they adorned
the parsonage yard; -- their shade was refreshing; it was
respectable, for it carried one back with pleasing ideas to the
good pastors who planted them. The school-master often mentioned
the name of him who planted the oldest of them. {150} He had it
from his grandfather. This vicar was an excellent man, and under
these trees his respectable memory was ever present to me. The
school-master had the tears in his eyes yesterday, when he told
us they were cut down. -- Cut down! I could in my fury murder the
ruffian who struck the first stroke! -- I that should grieve if I
had two such trees in my court, and one died of old age; I must
endure this. I have however one consolation -- such is sentiment
-- the whole village murmurs at it, and I hope the good peasants
will make no more presents to the vicar's wife, and that she will
suffer for the mischief she has done in the parish -- for she did
it, the wife of the present incumbent (our good old man is dead)
a tall meagre, wrinkled, wan creature, who is so far right to
disregard the world, that the world totally disregards her; an
antiquated scold, who affects to be learned, pretends to examine
the canonical books, lends her assistance towards the new
reformation, moral and {151} critical, of the Christian religion,
and shrugs up her shoulders at the mention of Lavater's
enthusiasm. Her health is destroyed, and hinders her from having
any enjoyment here below. Such a being only could have cut down
my walnut-trees. No, I cannot get over it. Would you hear the
reasons? The leaves which fell from them made the court wet and
dirty; the trees obstructed the light; little boys threw stones
at the nuts, and the noise affected her nerves, and disturbed her
profound meditations when she was weighing in the balance
Kennicott, Semler, and Michaelis. When I found that all the
parish was displeased, and particularly the old people, I asked
them why they suffered it? -- "Ah! Sir," they said "when the
steward orders, what can we poor peasants do?" However one thing
has happened very well; the steward and the vicar (who for once
thought to reap some advantage from the caprices of his wife)
intended to divide the trees between {151} them. The
revenue-office being informed of it, took possession of the
trees, and sold them to the best bidder. There they still lie on
the ground. Oh! If I was a sovereign prince, how I would deal
with the vicar, the steward and the revenue office! -- But if I
was a prince, what should I care for the trees that grew in my
country.
