Authors: Kate Forsyth
The Wild Girl (53 page)
November 1813
‘I can’t believe how much they eat,’ Dortchen said to Lotte, as they stood in the queue at the butcher’s. ‘Our winter stores are gone already.’
‘I can’t believe how noisy they are,’ Lotte answered. ‘They sing and dance half the night, and keep calling for more vodka.’
‘I guess we shouldn’t complain,’ Dortchen said. ‘At least we’re still alive.’
‘Just hungry,’ Lotte said sadly.
The girls were silent for a moment. It had been almost a month since the catastrophic defeat of the French at Leipzig, and the Russians had once again occupied Cassel. They spent their days and nights drinking and carousing and flirting with the town’s prettiest girls, but they did not loot and rape and murder, as everyone had feared. The dreaded Cossacks had gone chasing after the retreating French army, hoping to catch the Emperor. Life in Cassel was eerily normal, the only difference being the colour of the soldiers’ uniforms and the language in which they cursed.
The Austrians had tried to stop Napoléon’s withdrawal from Germany by engaging him at Hanau, but the Emperor had won the battle and secured his army’s line of retreat. Now all the talk was of whether the Austrians, the Prussians and the Russians would pursue Napoléon all the way to Paris.
‘Surely not,’ Rudolf said. ‘The French would die rather than surrender their emperor. Surely they will just draw up another treaty?’
Dortchen was not so sure. The Russian tsar and the Austrian emperor and the Prussian king had been humiliated most publicly. They would seek revenge, she felt. They would want to crush Napoléon and regain their honour.
Both the Wilds and the Grimms had a houseful of Russians. Seven were crammed into the Grimms’ small third-floor apartment with Jakob, Wilhelm and Lotte, while fourteen had taken up residence in Herr Wild’s house. Dortchen and Mia had given up their bedrooms and slept together on pallets on the kitchen floor. Rudolf slept in the hallway outside to make sure that no lusty Russian soldier decided to visit them during the night.
‘The poor boys hate it,’ Lotte said. ‘It’s so hard for them to work with all the noise. It sounds like elephants dancing, the way the Russians crash about.’
‘Is Wilhelm still working on the fairy tale book?’ Dortchen asked, after a long moment. It was hard for her to say his name without pain.
Lotte nodded, looking at her sideways. ‘Yes. He’s hoping to put out another volume.’
There was an awful, awkward silence, then Lotte said in a rush, ‘Dortchen, you need to know, Wilhelm’s in love … Well, I’m not sure he’s in love, because he doesn’t seem anything like as sick and miserable as when he was in love with you, but … Oh, I think she’s in love with him. She writes all the time, and Wilhelm won’t read her letters out loud, the way he usually does.’
‘That’s good. I’m glad. Who … who is she?’
‘Jenny von Droste-Hülshoff.’
‘Noble?’
‘And Catholic. There’s no hope, really. She’s the niece of Werner von Haxthausen – you know, Wilhelm’s friend who lives on that grand estate near Paderborn. Wilhelm spent the summer there.’
Dortchen nodded.
‘Her family would never agree to any match, though.’ Lotte’s voice was
filled with resentment. ‘They are noble and wealthy, while we’re scratching to keep ourselves alive. Wilhelm says she’s sent him some beautiful tales. There’s one about twelve princesses who wear their dancing shoes to shreds every night. Wilhelm says it’s among the finest stories he’s ever heard.’
‘No wonder he’s in love with her.’ Dortchen spoke lightly, easily, yet Lotte winced and looked at her askance.
‘Oh, Dortchen, you’re unkind,’ she murmured.
‘Am I?’ Dortchen could not bear to stand in the queue any longer. Abandoning all hope of a meal that night, she walked away, ignoring Lotte’s cries.
November 1813
On Sunday, 21st November, Dortchen went into her mother’s bedroom and sat down on the bed beside her.
‘Mother, I have wonderful news,’ she said in a low voice.
Frau Wild rolled towards her, pressing a hand to her left breast. She was very pale. ‘What is it, Dortchen?’
‘The Kurfürst is to return to Cassel. He will ride into town this afternoon.’
‘The prince? The dear prince is to return?’
‘Yes, Mother. I wondered … Surely you would like to get up and come with Mia and me to see the royal family ride in? You have not got out of bed for days.’
‘I feel so weak. But I would like to see him. Will you help me?’
Dortchen helped her mother sit up and brought her some clothes. They hung on her bony frame. Frau Wild was cold, so Dortchen brought her a few extra shawls to wrap about her shoulders. Frau Wild’s hand kept returning to press against her chest.
They went downstairs slowly, calling to Mia to join them. Rudolf came too, limping along with the help of a wooden walking stick. Herr Wild closed the shop and walked with his family to the Königsplatz, his wife leaning heavily on his arm, her scarves and shawls fluttering behind her.
The Königsplatz was crowded with people from all walks of life; many were clutching bunches of late-blooming wildflowers, blue speedwell, ragwort, honeysuckle and bindweed. Soldiers in Hessian green kept the road clear. It seemed so strange to see the once familiar uniform again, after so many years of the French blue, white and red. A cheer rose from far down the road. Everyone caught their breath and craned their necks to see.
At last, the triumphant procession reached the Königsplatz. Banners and scarves waved wildly, and the people of Cassel cheered and shouted. For once, the Kurfürst was not wearing shabby old hunting clothes but was regally attired in red velvet and ermine, medals draped on his shoulder. His hair was powdered and caught back in a queue, a style that made him seem both hopelessly antiquated and yet somehow regal. His wife, Princess Wilhelmine, sat beside him in the open carriage, ramrod-straight, waving a white-gloved hand. Sitting opposite them were Crown Prince Wilhelm and his wife, Princess Augusta of Austria. All were grandly dressed, sparkling with diamonds. All looked stern and unforgiving.
Another carriage carried the royal grandchildren, one boy and two girls, who were much more animated, bouncing up and down and squealing with delight as they were showered with wildflowers. A governess did her best to keep them from falling out.
As the carriages rolled through the Königsplatz, the jubilation of the crowd overflowed. Everyone surged forward, breaking through the line of soldiers. The mob surrounded the Kurfürst’s carriage, cheering, shouting, weeping. When he leant out, touching as many hands as possible, he was lifted up and carried on the shoulders of his subjects. The soldiers grew agitated and would have fired on the crowd, but the Kurfürst only smiled, rather stiffly, and bade them put him back in his carriage. The crowd obeyed and the soldiers lowered their muskets.
Next came the carriages of the court, filled with ladies-of-honour and dignitaries. Dortchen spied Aunt Zimmer, who looked much thinner and much older, waving her lace handkerchief enthusiastically. The next minute she saw Jakob, Wilhelm and Lotte, who were racing alongside the
carriage, waving and calling endearments and blowing kisses. Dortchen had forgotten that their beloved aunt would be returning with the Kurfürst’s court. She was surprised to find herself in tears.
Wiping her eyes, she looked up to see Wilhelm standing still, gazing at her. As their eyes met, he flushed, hunched one shoulder and turned away. Dortchen’s tears overflowed.
Cassel’s joy at the return of the Kurfürst was soon dimmed. Wilhelm I insisted that everything must return to the way it had been before the French occupation. All the liberties they had enjoyed under the
Code Napoléon
were taken away again. Dortchen worried most about the poor serfs. They had been freed from servitude but now were slaves once more.
The Kurfürst was furious at the state of the treasury, laid waste by the Merry King’s extravagance. Taxes were raised at once, and the shopkeepers, merchants and artisans howled in protest, Herr Wild as loudly as any of them. The big-spending Russians had all marched on Paris, leaving Cassel feeling strangely quiet and empty.
It would be another long, hard, lean winter.
Dortchen saw Jakob and Wilhelm only at church, when they raised their hats to the Wild family in the chilliest way imaginable. She saw Lotte more often, for it was the job of the girls of the family to haunt the markets, begging, borrowing and bartering for food to keep their families from starving. For some reason, Lotte seemed to have forgiven Dortchen for whatever had come between her and Wilhelm. Perhaps she sensed Dortchen’s heartfelt misery and despair.
Life was harder than ever for the Grimms. Jakob had lost his job as royal librarian with the fleeing of the Westphalian court, and at first it seemed as if the Kurfürst would not be very forgiving of those who had been employed by the French. Karl Grimm had lost his job at the bank, along with all of his savings, and was back living in the small third-floor apartment with his brothers.
In December, Jakob was offered a job as secretary to Count Keller, the diplomat sent to negotiate the peace terms for Hessen-Cassel. Count Keller
and his entourage would follow in the tail of the Allied army as it pushed the French back towards Paris. It would mean being away from Cassel for months.
Both Karl and Ludwig decided they wished to join the Hessian army and help defeat the French, but the cost of uniforms and weapons was prohibitive. Wilhelm, in particular, chafed against the confines of the Grimms’ poverty. He started a literary journal called
Old German Miscellany,
which had met with a scathing attack from a leading critic.
‘It’s made him very downhearted,’ Lotte said. ‘I’ve never known him to be so miserable. Karl and Ludwig are miserable too, because they want to go and fight against Napoléon, and Jakob’s miserable because he hates having to leave home. I thought everything would be fine once the French were thrown out of Cassel, but in fact things are worse.’
Dortchen gave Lotte some calendula and lemon balm tea, hoping that might help her brothers. Her own brother was just as morose. The coming of the cold winter months made Rudolf’s frost-scarred feet and hands ache, and brought back nightmares of the retreat from Russia.
Just before Christmas, Gretchen and her husband came back to Cassel with their four small children. They hosted a grand Christmas party at their townhouse. Gretchen tried to persuade Dortchen to borrow a party dress, but she did not want her arms and bosom to be bare, or to feel silk against her skin. She wore an old woollen dress of her mother’s, with long sleeves and a high neck, and shook her head whenever anyone asked her to dance.
‘What a pious old bore you’ve grown into,’ Gretchen said in disgust.
‘Leave her be,’ Herr Schmerfeld said. ‘It’s refreshing to see such a modest young woman.’
Gretchen pouted her red lips, fluttered her feathered fan across the bare expanse of her bosom and rustled away.
Herr Schmerfeld looked down at Dortchen. ‘Is all well with you?’ he asked.
‘Of course,’ she answered, then looked away.
Good news soon came for the Grimms. With the help of his Aunt
Zimmer, Wilhelm at last was granted a position as secretary to the royal library. The job only paid a hundred thalers a year, most of which went immediately on outfitting Karl and Ludwig in their soldiers’ kit, but it did at least settle two of the brothers’ immediate futures – and it gave Wilhelm a new sense of purpose.
Each morning, Dortchen would kneel on her bed and watch as Wilhelm went out the side door and down the alley, dressed like an old grandee in a frockcoat and knee-breeches, his dark curls tied back in a neat pigtail, a tricorn hat on his head. Once he turned and looked up at her window, and she ducked down, red-hot with embarrassment and shame. It had been a year since they had last spoken.
In early February, Napoléon won a series of brilliantly executed victories against the Allied armies. Over the course of six days, he fought four major battles, his army of only thirty thousand men outmanoeuvring a force of one hundred and twenty thousand.
