Waldfried: A Novel

CHAPTER XIII

At home I found everything in excellent order. Rothfuss was still complaining, and was not allowed to leave his bed; but he was mending, and had naught to complain of but ennui and thirst.

I cannot remember a merrier Christmas than that of 1865. We could quietly think of our children we knew how they lived. Every Christmas we would receive a long letter from Ludwig; and Johanna wrote us that affairs were improving with her husband.

On the day before Christmas, Ernst arrived. He carried a roebuck on his shoulder, and stood in front of the house shouting joyously. He waited there until Martella went out to meet him. He reached out his arms to embrace her, but she said, "Come into the house. When you get in there, I will give you an honest kiss."

When I congratulated Ernst on his success in his examination, he replied, "No thanks, father; I was lucky; that is all. I really know very little about the subjects they examined me upon. I know more about other things. But I passed nevertheless." It was delightful to listen to Richard's sensible remarks; Ernst's conversation, however, was so persuasive and so varied as to prove even more interesting than that of Richard. He expressed himself quite happily in regard to the manner in which one should, by stealth as it were, learn the laws of the forest by careful observation, and referred to a point which is even yet in dispute among foresters-whether a fertile soil or a large return in lumber is most to be desired. I began to feel assured that my son, who had so often gone astray, would yet be able to erect a life-fabric that would afford happiness both to himself and to others.

Towards evening, when we were about to light the lamps, the Professor arrived, to Martella's great delight.

"I knew you would be glad to see me," said Richard, "and I must confess I like to come to my parents; but I have come more for the sake of seeing you than any one else."

Richard congratulated Ernst, and promised to prepare a grand poem for the wedding day.

The lights shone brightly, and joy beamed from every eye.

The Professor had brought some books for Martella, but had not been fortunate in his selections. There were children's books among them, and these Martella quietly laid aside.

Bertha had sent her a dress, Annette had contributed some furs, and Johanna had sent her an elegantly bound Bible.

"I see already," said Martella, "that naught but good things are showered down on me. Let them come. God grant that the day may arrive when I, too, can bestow gifts. But now let us be happy," she said, turning to Ernst. "When we are alone together in the wild-woods, let us remember how lovely it is here. Look at the Christmas-tree. It was out in the cold and was freezing; but now they have brought it into the warm room, and decked it with lights and all sorts of pretty gifts. And thus was I, too, out of doors and forgotten; but now I am better off; the tree is dead, but I-" Richard grasped my hand in silence, and softly whispered:

"Don't interrupt her. Always let her finish what she has begun this way. When the bird singing on the tree observes that the wanderer is looking up to it with grateful eyes, it flies away."

Martella tried on her furs, stroked them with her hand, and then lit the lights on a little Christmas-tree on which were hanging some large stockings-the first she had ever knit.

"Come along," she said to Ernst, "let us go to Rothfuss; and, Richard, you had better come with us, too, and help us sing."

Carrying the burning tree in her hand, and accompanied by Ernst and Richard, she went, singing on her way, to the room in which Rothfuss lay.

"You are the first person," she said to Rothfuss, "to whom I can give something. I only knit them; the wool was given me by my mother."

"Oh!" exclaimed Rothfuss, "no wizard can do what is impossible. Our Lord makes the wool grow on the sheep; but shearing the sheep, spinning the wool, and knitting the stockings we have to do for ourselves."

On the next day, while we were seated at table, Rothfuss entered, crying, "A proverb, and a true one; she has put me on my feet again. I have got well."

I cannot recall a merrier Christmas than the one we then enjoyed. There were no more like it, for in the following year the crown had departed.

My wife's father had, after withdrawing from his position as a teacher, employed himself in translating Göethe's Iphigenia into Greek. He had left his task incomplete. As a Christmas present for mother, Richard had brought lovely pictures to illustrate the poem, and in the antique room of our house, in which we had casts of the best Greek and Roman statues, Richard would read aloud to my wife.

Martella always had an aversion to this large room, and when she was called in there would look around for a while, as if lost, and then with scarcely audible steps leave the apartment.

My wife loved all her children, but she was happiest of all with Richard. He seemed to have succeeded to her father's unfinished labors, and when he was in her presence she always seemed as if in a higher sphere. Richard had a thoroughly noble disposition and dignified bearing.

Mother repeatedly read Ludwig's letter, and said:

"The Free-thinkers could not bring about what we are now experiencing: that on a certain evening and at an appointed hour all mankind are united in the same feeling. Do you believe, Richard, that you philosophers could bring about such a result?"

Richard thought not; but added that the forms assumed by higher intellectual truth were constantly changing, and that just as they had given the church in heathen ages a different character, so they might at some future time effect changes in later forms of religious belief.

Martella entered the room at that moment, and my wife's significant glance reminded Richard that he had better not prolong the discussion. We were a happy circle, and Richard was especially so because he had made common cause with me in the last exciting question. The future of our Fatherland, however, did not afford him a pleasant outlook. He believed that the great powers were playing a false game and were only feigning to quarrel in order that they might the more successfully divide up the lesser states among themselves. He felt sure that their plan was to divide up all the rest of Germany between Prussia and Austria. I, too, had sad thoughts in this connection, but could not picture the future to myself. This alone was certain: our present condition could not last. In the meanwhile we awaited Napoleon's New Year's speech. His words would inform the world what was to become of it.

In our happy family circle we forgot for a little while the feeling of deep humiliation that hung over all, and the doubts that always caused us to ask ourselves, "To whom will we belong?"

It is indeed sad when one is forced to say to himself, "To-morrow you and your country may be handed over to some King."

CHAPTER XIV

Whenever I returned from Parliament, it seemed as if I had left a strange world. Although my labors there were in behalf of those dearest to me, I was too far removed from them to have them constantly in my mind. And for many a morning after my return the force of habit made me wonder why the usual amount of printed matter that had been handed me while at the capital was not forthcoming.

I found the affairs of the village in good order.

That was the only time that I can write about-the time when my wife was still …

I have been gazing out over the mountain and into the dark wood, that I, or rather she, planted, and then I lifted my eyes up to heaven. The stars are shining, and it is said that light from stars that have already perished is still travelling towards us. May the light that was once mine thus flow unto you when I am no longer here. But to proceed.

For three-and-twenty years I filled the office of burgomaster, and was of great use to our parish. Above all things, I built up its credit. To accomplish this I was obliged to be severe and persistent in prosecuting the suit. But now things have so far improved that the people at Basle regret that no one in our village desires to borrow money from them.

The two chief benefits that I have procured for our village are good credit and pure water.

Just as credit is the true measure of economical condition, so is water the measure of physical well-being.

I converted the heath into a woodland. It was twenty-three years ago, and I was the youngest member of the town council; but, aided by my cousin Linker, I induced the people of our parish to plant trees in the old meadow, and to this day every one of our people derives a moderate profit from the little piece of woodland that we now have there. Its value increases from year to year.

My cousin Linker had been a book-keeper in the glass-house down in the valley. He married a daughter of the richest farmer in the village, and became quite a farmer himself.

I learnt a great deal from him. In business matters he was greatly my superior, for he was shrewder, or in other words, more distrustful, than I.

Until about five years ago, we were partners in an extensive lumber business. We built the first large saw-mill in the valley. It had three saws, and all the new appliances, and a part of our business was to saw up logs and beams. I also built a saw-mill, which is conducted on the co-operative system, for the benefit of the villagers.

When the Parliament had determined upon having a fortress erected in our neighborhood, our business friends offered us their congratulations. They well knew that this would require so much lumber as to give rise to a profitable business. And this, I must confess, is a point which I would like to forget. But who, after all, leads a life which is entirely pure, and without being in the slightest spoiled with intercourse with the world.

Cousin Linker conducted a large business in his name and mine. I did not take any active part in the negotiations, although I was responsible for what was done. He would often say, "You are absurdly virtuous. One like you will never get on in the world."

Joseph, my cousin's only son, and of the same age as our Ludwig, had married my daughter Martina, who died shortly after the birth of their first child. Her son Julius was a forester's apprentice. Joseph married again, but he is still faithful to me and mine, while we are quite attached to his second wife and her three daughters.

Joseph is now burgomaster, and I hope he will one day occupy my position as a member of the Parliament. He works zealously for the public good, and has one great advantage that did not exist in my time. For nowadays there are numerous good burgomasters in the neighborhood, and it is therefore easier to carry out desirable measures.

Last winter, Joseph induced the people of Brauneck, the next village, to combine with ours in laying out a road through the common woods, and the wood taken out was worth more than twice the cost of the labor.

Joseph inherited my cousin's shrewd business notions. He caused hundreds of little branches to be gathered up and prepared for Christmas-trees, and at the proper time would send them to the railway, and have them sent down the country. I did my share in building the road, for it passes right by my land, and is of great use to me. I do not think of cutting down any of the lumber. The red pine may stand for another twenty years. I could almost wish that this wood might remain forever, for it is hers!

In the following spring, a gust of wind tore away some of the finest branches, and the first planks made of them were used to construct a coffin.

But I will not anticipate. It was in the third year after our marriage that I returned home one evening with a large load of red-pine saplings. I was sitting on the balcony with my wife, later in the evening, and was telling her that I intended to set the five-year-old shoots down by the stone wall, and that I had therefore chosen hardy plants, in which the root was in proper proportion to the crown, but that it was always difficult to find conscientious workmen, who would look out for one's interest while attending to the matter.

My wife listened patiently while I explained the manner in which the shoots should be planted.

"Let me attend to this work," said she. "It is well that forest-trees do not require the same care as animals, or fruit-trees. Rude nature protects itself. But it will afford me pleasure to tend the shoots with great care."

"But it is fatiguing."

"I know that, but I can do something for the forest that brings us so many blessings."

I gladly consented. And thus we have a fine grove down by the stone wall.

While the children were growing up, my wife knew how to invest the planting of trees with a festive character. Richard and Johanna soon grew tired of it. But Bertha, Ludwig, Martella, and at a later day Ernst, were full of zeal, and had an especial affection for the trees which they had planted with their own hands.

My wife was perfectly familiar with every nook in the woods, and when the new road was laid out she pointed out to Joseph a clear and fresh spring which had remained undisturbed, while we in the village were often poorly supplied with good drinking water. She persuaded him to alter its course so that it would flow towards the village; and now, thanks to her, we have a splendid spring which even in the heat of summer furnishes us with an abundance of cool and pure water.

To this day we call it the Gustava spring.

Every year, at my wife's birthday, it is decorated by the youth of the village.

She seemed to live with the woods that she had planted. Without a trace of sentimentality, I mean exaggerated susceptibility, she rejoiced in the sunshine and the rain, the mists and the snow, because they helped the plants, and this state of mind contributed to the quiet grace and dignity which so well became her.

On Christmas afternoon we could, in our sleighs, ride as far as the wood and the village beyond it.

Martella told us that she, too, had planted thousands of white and red pines, but that there was not a tree that she could call her own.

She called out unto the snow-covered plantation: "Say: Mother."

"Mother," answered the distant echo.

"And now say: Waldfried."

"Waldfried" was the answer. We returned home, happy and light-hearted. Ernst remained with us until New Year's Day, and seemed to have regained his wonted cheerfulness.

It was with pleasure not unmixed with jealousy, that Ernst saw how Martella hung on Richard's lips while listening to his calm and clear remarks on the topics that arose from day to day. His explanations were such that the simplest intellect could comprehend them. I cannot help thinking that Ernst's glances at Martella often were intended to convey some such words as these: "Oh, I know all that, too, but I am not always talking about it!"

"I did not know that you could talk so well," said Martella on one occasion. At times we had quite heated discussions.

With my sons it cost me quite an effort to defend my faith in the people.

Ernst and Richard, who rarely agreed on any question, united in their low opinion of the people.

Ernst despised the farmers, and said he would not confide the charge of the woods to them, as they would inconsiderately destroy the whole forest if they had the chance.

Richard adduced this as a proof that it would always be necessary to teach the people what, for their own good, should be done as well as left undone.

He dwelt particularly on that severe sentence, terrent nisi metuant. The mass of the people is terrible unless held in subjection by fear. History, which was his special science, furnished him with potent proofs, that the people should always be ruled with a firm hand.

Joseph listened silently to the discussions carried on by the brothers. He was always glad to hear what those who were educated had to say. He never took part when generalities were discussed. It was not until they began to conjecture as to what Napoleon, the ruler of the world, might say in his next New Year's address, that his anger found vent in sharp words.

Later generations will hardly be able to understand this. These men were seated together in a well-ordered house in the depths of the forest; and even there the spirit of doubt and questioning, that could not be banished, was constantly at their side, and pouring wormwood into their wine.

There was no unalloyed happiness left us-no freedom from care. Will not the Emperor of the French hurl his bottles at us in the morning! What will he not attempt for the sake of securing his dynasty and gratifying the theatrical cravings of his people! The whole world was in terror. Everything was in a state of morbid excitement, and, as Ernst said, "watching like a dog for the morsel that the great Parisian theatrical manager might throw to it;" and here Richard interrupted him.

Richard had a great love for established forms. He always expressed himself with moderation. Ernst, however, would allow his feelings to run away with him, and would often find that he had gone too far.

Richard, who had had his younger brother at his side during the years spent at the Gymnasium, still regarded himself as a sort of teacher and guide to Ernst, and could hardly realize how that youth could have been so self-reliant as to get himself a bride under such peculiar circumstances.

Richard confessed that he desired to achieve a career. "My time will come. Perhaps I may have to wait until I have gray hairs, or none at all; but I shall, at all events, not allow love to interfere with my plans. I shall not marry, unless under circumstances that will help to secure the end I have in view."

I had accustomed myself to leave both sons undisturbed in their views of life. They both agreed in regarding me as an idealist, although their reasons for reaching this conclusion were dissimilar.

I love to recall the passage in Plutarch's Lycurgus. The old men are singing, "We were once powerful youths;" the men sing, "But we are now strong;" and the youths sing, "But we will be still stronger than you are!"

The world progresses, and every new generation must develop the old ideas and introduce new ones. It will go hard with us old folks to admit that these are better than ours; but they are so, nevertheless.

When Richard was alone with me, he expressed his great delight in regard to his youngest brother; and as the journals of that day contained a call for participants in the German Expedition to the North Pole, Richard would gladly have seen Ernst take a part in the enterprise. He maintained that Ernst was endowed with qualities that would gain him distinction as a student of nature, and that a voyage of discovery would make a hero of him. For he had invincible courage, fertility of invention, fine perception, and much general knowledge, combined with the ability to see things as they are.

Ernst was full of youthful buoyancy, just as he had been in the earliest years of his student life. He was the life of the house, constantly singing and yodling; and his special enthusiastic friend, Rothfuss, one day said to me while in the stable, "I knew it. I knew all about it. Our Ernst cannot come to harm. Why, just listen to his singing. A tree where a bird builds its nest is in no danger from vermin."

CHAPTER XV

At a meeting of the burgomasters of the neighborhood, held on New Year's day, it was determined to call a general meeting of electors, to assemble in the chief town of the district, and to receive a report in regard to the last session of the Parliament.

On New Year's Day Ernst left us, as the Prince and his ministers intended to hunt during the next few days in the district which was in charge of his chief.

When he was about to leave, Martella said to him, "You have good reason to feel happy. The walls have heard you with joy, and every being in there thinks well of you and me."

"And you?" asked he.

"I need not be thinking of you. For you are my other self."

It was a clear, mild, winter day when, accompanied by Joseph and Richard, I drove to the neighboring town in which the meeting was to be held. It was Richard's intention to return to the University at the close of the meeting.

Rothfuss had fully recovered. Displaying his new stockings, and wearing his forester's coat, he sat up on the driver's box, while he managed the bays. Although he entertained a deep contempt for mankind in general, and for that portion of it that lived in our neighborhood in particular, he was always willing to take part in anything that was done in my honor.

He often remarked that the people did not deserve that one should walk three steps for their sake. He would never forget the way in which they had treated the chieftains of 1848; or that a man like Ludwig, to whom he always accorded most generous praise, was obliged to leave his home, while no one had a thought for him, or for the one who had suffered himself to be imprisoned for his sake.

The road led through the valley, and was cheerful with the sound of the sleigh-bells. Rothfuss cracked his whip, and soon distanced all the other drivers.

Here and there, sleighs might be seen coming down the hillside. At the village taverns, teams were resting, and from every window, as well as from passers on the highway, came respectful greetings, and at times even enthusiastic cheers.

In token of his thanks, Rothfuss cracked his whip still more loudly.

He would look around from time to time, as if noting how much pleasure these tokens of respect afforded me. But once he said to Richard, "It is all very well, Mr. Professor; but if the weather were to change, all these cheers would freeze in the mouths that are now uttering them. We have known something of that kind already."

I must admit, however, that these attentions did my heart good. There is nothing in the associations of home that is more grateful than to be able to say to one's self, "I live in the midst of my voters. I do my duty without fear or favor, and without my asking for office, my fellow-citizens select me as their representative in the councils of the nation."

Like the breath of the woods such homage has a fragrance peculiarly its own. I cannot believe in the sincerity of one who, from so-called modesty, or affected indifference to the opinions of his fellow-citizens, would refuse office when thus offered to him. I frankly admit that it is not so unpleasant to me to find that others think at least as well, or even better of me, than I do.

This of course brings to mind Rautenkron the forester, who would stoutly combat my opinion in this matter, for he thinks that a love of such honors is the worst sort of dependence.

When I arrived at the meeting, I made my report in a quiet matter-of-fact manner. It is time for our people to learn that the affairs of the state should have a higher use than merely to serve as the occasion for fine speeches. Funk was sitting on the front bench, with a follower of his on either side of him. One of them was known as Schweitzer-Schmalz. He was a fat, puffed up farmer, who, to use his own words, took great delight in "trumping" the students and public officials.

But a few words as to Schmalz. A man of his dimensions requires more space than I have just given him. He was one of those men who, when prosperous, continually eat and drink of the best. A red vest decked with silver buttons covered his fat paunch, and was generally unbuttoned.

His name was Schmalz, but he had been dubbed Schweitzer-Schmalz, because of his having once said, "I do not see why we should not be as good as our neighbors the Swiss."

He hated the Prussians; first and foremost, for the reason that one ought to hate them. This is the first article of faith in the catechism of the popular journals. And although questions as to the religious catechism might be tolerated, this article must be received without a murmur. Besides, they were impertinent enough to speak high German; and he knew, moreover, that abuse of the Prussians was relished in certain high quarters.

He attempted by his boasting to provoke every one, and was himself at last provoked to find that the whole world laughed at him. He had a habit of rattling the silver coins in his pocket while uttering his unwelcome remarks.

Funk aided and encouraged him in his swaggering ways. Funk's other follower was a lawyer of extremely radical views. Funk always acted as if he were their servant, although, as he himself said, he was the bear-leader.

In his confidential moments, he would often say: "The people is really a stupid bear; fasten a ring in its nose, and you can lead it about as you would a sheep, and the best nose-ring for your purpose is the church."

The question of extending a branch of the valley road into the neighboring state, gave rise to a lively debate. I declared that no private association would undertake the enterprise, unless interest on the investment were guaranteed, and that I would oppose it, because its promised advantages were not sufficient to justify us in voting the money of the state for the purpose, instead of spending our own.

The effect of this was a very perceptible diminution of the favor with which I had been regarded. And when, afterward, a vote of thanks to me was proposed, it was coldly received.

I was just about to descend from the tribune, when I heard Funk say to Schmalz, who was sitting by his side, "Speak out! It is your own affair." Schmalz now asked me why I had voted for the abolition of the freedom of the woods, or, in other words, the privilege of gathering up the moss, and the small sticks of wood with which to cover the floor of the stables. To him personally it was a matter of little concern, but humbler and poorer people could not so well afford to do without it.

This gave rise to much loud talk. All seemed to be speaking at once, and saying, "Such things should not be tolerated."

When I at last obtained an opportunity to make myself heard, I told them that the community had an interest in the preservation of the forests, and suggested that it was necessary to seek other means of gaining the object to be attained, in order that the forests need not suffer.

And when I went on to tell them that we would be unable to take proper care of our forests until we had a general law on the subject applying to the whole empire, and that the lines separating our different states ran through the midst of our woods, I heard some one call out, "Of course! He owns forests on both sides of the line." And Schmalz laughed out at the top of his voice, holding his fat paunch the while. "What a fuss the man is making about a few little sticks!" he said.

I descended from the tribune, feeling that I had not convinced my constituents.

At the banquet all was life again. Herr Von Rontheim was among the guests. He had courage enough to confess to being one of the opposition, of which he had become a member against his will. He was an impoverished member of the old nobility. In figure and in education he seemed intended for a courtier. But now he was filling an office that entailed much labor upon him. He attended to his duties punctually and carefully, but in a perfunctory manner. He had given in his adhesion to the late liberal ministry. In view of his position at Court, this was an ill-considered step; for, when the ministers were removed, he was at once ordered to the capital, and assigned to official duties that he found it hard to do justice to, for his education had better fitted him for the life of a courtier than for that of a painstaking government deputy.

Rontheim sat beside me, and assured me that the fall of the one man who had been appointed minister to the federation would soon draw that of the rest after him.

He spoke as if he knew all about the matter, and merely wanted to find out how much I knew on the subject. The artifice was too apparent, however; he knew just as little as I did. In the course of conversation, he asserted that the existence of the lesser German States does not find its justification in greater privileges than are accorded by the general government, but because they can thus secure a more perfect administration of the minor details of government-a view on which I had touched in my report.

I was not a little astonished when he told me, in the strictest confidence, that I had been mentioned at Court with special approval. He assured me that he knew this, for he had lots of relatives there. He had indeed once been called upon to furnish information in regard to myself and my family; and he felt assured that his report had reached the ears of the Prince. He felt convinced that, with the next decided turn in affairs, it would not be my son Richard, but myself, to whom an exalted position would be offered. He said that he intended to report my behavior of that very day, in a quarter where the courage which can face popular disfavor would be appreciated. He treated me more cordially than ever, and plainly signified that he felt assured of my good-will.

I had never given him an occasion to joke with me, and when I replied that what he had told me was so great a surprise that I did not know how to answer him, he said that he fully appreciated my feelings. He furnished me with another bit of information, which was a much greater surprise. He told me that my son Ernst had, but a short time before that, applied at the office of the kreis-director³ for permission to emigrate to America, and had requested them to furnish him with the requisite documents, at the earliest possible moment.

Ernst still owed two years of military service, and his release could only be effected as an act of grace on the part of the government. This, the director added, presented no difficulty, if I chose to exert my influence. The whole affair seemed a riddle to me.

Ernst had, in all likelihood, committed this hasty action during a sudden fit of impatience, and I determined to reprove him at the first opportunity. It seemed very strange that he should be so careful to prevent me from knowing of an undertaking which he would be unable to accomplish without my assistance.