Waldfried: A Novel

Julius and Martha were standing a little way off, beside a blooming rose-bush, and when I said to Ludwig, "Behold your future niece," they were both so suffused with blushes, that they resembled the roses. My daughter-in-law embraced Martha, and was afterward embraced by the Privy Councillor's wife.

Ludwig urged our departure for home, and the charming woman thanked us heartily for the short visit we had paid her. In the meantime, Rontheim had opened a bottle of wine and filled our glasses.

Our glasses clinked; we emptied them, and started on our way; and Rothfuss said, "The Privy Councillor did the right thing in pouring out some wine; eating and drinking is the best half of nourishment." Ludwig laughed heartily.

Ludwig held me by the hand while we drove along the valley road.

"The houses have been rebuilt," he said, pointing towards the right bank of the stream. It was there that, during the uprising of 1848, he had been in command, and where the houses had been burned to the ground.

"We have him in a sack; if we could only keep him there for ourselves for a couple of weeks," called out Rothfuss.

My grandson did not understand him, and I was obliged to explain how Rothfuss always managed to catch my very thought.

I had wished to be able to have Ludwig's society for myself, and to give no one a part of him, except of course his brothers and sisters. From a few remarks of Ludwig's, I gathered that he was aware of my thoughts, and the first thing he said to me was a text for all that followed.

"I have not forgotten mother's saying, and it has often been a guide for me: 'We have part in the world, and the world ought to have part in us.'"

It seemed to me that Rothfuss was laughing to himself. I had been mistaken, however, for Wolfgang, who was seated on the box with Rothfuss, now called out, "Father, Rothfuss is crying!"

"Is there anything that such an American wouldn't notice?" replied Rothfuss, sitting upright on the box, and cracking his whip with all his might.

"And so the new road through the valley is finished," said Ludwig; "I suppose Antonin built that. It would have been better, though, if they had carried it along the other bank."

The new road had, however, only been laid out as far as the boundary line; from there unto my dwelling, which was fully two hours distant, there was only the old road, which was in a horrible condition.

"Father," exclaimed Wolfgang, "here are the boundary posts that you told me of."

"Yes," said Ludwig; "this is yet old Germany. Here, there is still separation."

I believe that I have not yet mentioned that I live near the border. Our village is the last point in our territory, and further down the valley is the beginning of the neighboring principality.

How strange! There was so much that we wished to speak of to one another, and the first subject of conversation was the laying out of the new road.

And it is well that it is so; for this helps one over the heart-throbs that otherwise would be almost insupportable.

Ludwig had mentioned mother, and for the present she was not referred to again.

He had a quick glance, and always thought of what might benefit the community; and when Wolfgang expressed his delight at the wild, rushing valley stream, Ludwig said to me, "That stream could do much more work. There is a fortune floating there, thrown into the water, as it were, and flowing away from our valley out into the ocean."

"To whom does water-power belong?" inquired Wolfgang.

We gave him the desired information, and this question was a happy proof of his active, inquiring mind.

"Over yonder," said Rothfuss, "there is a miller who has his water-power direct from the heavens." He pointed to the house of the so-called "thunder miller," who had built his mill in such a way that its wheel would only go after there had been a storm.

The ground for some distance before we reached the tunnel, was covered with cherry-trees with straight trunks, the branches of which looked like a well-arranged bouquet; and on the heights were the beech-trees with their red buds, and one could follow the gradual development of the foliage.

"Look, Wolfgang," said Ludwig, "you can see here how spring gradually climbs up the mountain side."

"Father," exclaimed Wolfgang, "the people in the fields are all looking up at us."

"They all know grandfather," replied Ludwig; and, turning to me, he explained: "It seems strange to the boy, for the American never looks up from his work, even if seven trains of cars rush by within ten paces of him."

At the boundary line, Gaudens greeted us.

We halted there for a while. He came up to the carriage, stretched out his hand, and exclaimed, "Do you know me yet?"

"Certainly I do; you are Gaudens."

"Yes, it is easy to find me; from here around the corner, down to the Maiengrund is my district. I was in the revolution too, but I lied my way out. Yes, Ludwig, you have wandered about a great deal in the wide world. It is best at home, after all; isn't it? Is this your son?"

"It is."

"God bless him. And what a splendid wife you have! – What a pity about Ernst; he has such a good heart and is such a sensible fellow, and yet commits such wicked and foolish tricks. All I wish for is to have a place where I might have some little extra profits from fruit and grass by the road; nothing ripens here but pine cones."

When Wolfgang shook hands with him at parting, he said, "He has a soft hand; he cannot swing the pickaxe as you did when you were building your first road."

"How lovely it is here," said Wolfgang. "Here you know every one, and every one knows you; you cannot meet a stranger."

He was right; it is so; and this makes a full life, but a hard one too.

We left the forester's house, where the forester's pretty wife, holding a child on her arm, greeted us. Our way lay along the crest of the mountain, and looked down into the valley, where the haystacks were scattered about the meadow, in the hollow, and along the hillside. Ludwig said:

"Whenever I thought of home, this view of the valley always came back to me. I was walking here once with Ernst, while he was yet quite a little fellow, and he said to me, 'Ludwig, look at the haystacks. Don't they look like a scattered herd of cows on the meadow?'"

He must have noticed that his allusion to Ernst had agitated me, and he added, "Father, we must be strong enough to think calmly of the dead and of the lost ones."

When we passed the woods that belonged to Uncle Linker and me, Ludwig was delighted to find how nicely they had been kept.

He then inquired about Martella, and when I said that she had a strange aversion to America, and disliked to hear it mentioned, he replied:

"Do you not believe, father, that she has an unexplained, and perhaps sad, past, which is in some way associated with America?" I was startled; – the case seemed to present new and puzzling difficulties.

Ludwig was pleased with the meadow-valley where he had arranged the trench with sluices. In very good seasons, there were four crops; but one was always sure of at least three. The value of the meadow-farmer's property had in this way been doubled.

Down by the saw-mill, we met Carl, who was just using the windlass to drag a large beam from the wagon.

He turned around as we approached and saluted us, and Ludwig's wife said, "What a handsome fellow! He is just as I have imagined all your countrymen to be."

We alighted, and walked up the hill and on towards the village.

When Ludwig saw the churchyard, he removed his hat from his head, remained standing for a moment in silence, and then walked on briskly.

At the steps of the house he extended his hand to his wife and said, "Welcome to the house of my parents!"

Martella was standing on the piazza: she stood there immovable, holding herself by the railing.

"That pretty girl there, with large staring eyes, is Ernst's betrothed, I presume?" said Ludwig.

I said, "Yes."

We went up the steps and entered the room. Without speaking a word, Martella offered her hand to every one of the new arrivals. She seemed absent minded and was silent.

My daughter-in-law and Wolfgang were surprised to find that we still had fires in our stoves.

A little pleasantry at once made us all feel at home with one another. I told my new daughter-in-law how happily I had lived with my wife, but that even we had been obliged to adapt ourselves to each other's ways.

From the earliest days in autumn until far into the summer, it had been our custom to have our sitting-room heated every morning and evening. At first it went hard with me, but after a while we accustomed ourselves to the same outer temperature, and the nicely warmed room at last became a great comfort to me, whenever I returned from the fields.

"I understand perfectly, and thank you for telling me of mother first of all," said my daughter-in-law.

Martella remained silent and reserved towards the newcomers, and, for the rest of the evening, we did not see her again. She remained in the kitchen and instructed one of the servants to serve the meal. With the help of the schoolmaster's wife she had prepared us a fine feast.

Wolfgang suddenly asked to see the family woods, and as it was still broad daylight, Ludwig took him out to gratify his curiosity.

I was left alone with my daughter-in-law, and when I conducted her through the house and showed her, above all things, the apartment with the plaster casts, her pure and tranquil nature became revealed to me for the first time.

When Ludwig returned, he expressed great pleasure with the fountain that mother had ordered to be repaired at the time the new forest path was laid out. He promised to send to the iron foundry at once, and order a pretty column with a pipe through it.

"Mother inspired me with an affection for this spring," said he. "While building the aqueduct, I thought of her almost every day; and along the space where the pipes were running under ground, I planted pines, in order that pretty woods might grow there, and the temperature of the water always remain the same. Of all the great and impressive things I beheld in America, one little monument impressed me most of all; it was that to Fredrick Graff, who built the waterworks of Philadelphia."

Night approached. We were seated in the arbor, and Wolfgang exclaimed, "The stars shine more brightly here than elsewhere."

"The dark woods make it appear so," said Ludwig. And just over the family woods, seeming to touch the tops of the trees as if fixed there, a star glistened and shone with a brightness that was marvellous even to me.

Ludwig conducted himself with great self-control and moderation. He spoke slowly and in a low voice, in order to keep down all agitation.

Long after the new-comers had retired to rest, Rothfuss and I were still sitting in front of the house.

Rothfuss could not come to an understanding with himself. He said, "Our Ludwig is still the same, and is changed for all; he has not grown, and yet he is larger."

He told me that Ludwig had come out into the stable to him, and when he had told Ludwig that the sorrel horse was the son of our gray stud, he had taken the horse firmly by the mane and said, "Rothfuss, you have been faithful to my father; I cannot fully recompense you for it, but express a wish and I will do what I can for you."

Rothfuss had heard no more of what was said.

He could not help crying like a child; and now he would like to know what he ought to wish for. He said that he wanted no one to advise him; he must find it out himself. For a long while, neither of us spoke a word. There was not a sound to be heard, save the bubbling of the fountain in front of the house.

I retired to my room, but could find no rest, and sat by the window for a long while.

It seemed to me as if an invisible and inaudible spirit was wandering through the house and bestowing upon it peace and quiet, above all other spots upon this earth.

Just then the watchman called the hour of midnight; the window of Ludwig's chamber opened, and Ludwig called out, "Tobias, come and see me to-morrow: I have something for you."

"Are you still awake?" cried I.

"Yes, father; and when I heard the watchman I knew for sure that I am at home. Now I understand the proverb, 'He who does not wander, does not return.' It is only among strangers that one learns to appreciate his home.

"But now go to sleep. Good-night, father."

CHAPTER VI

"The Herr Professor has arrived," were the words with which Martella greeted me early the next morning. I must observe that Martella now always spoke of Richard as "Herr Professor." The meeting of the brothers was a most affectionate one.

Ludwig's wife and Richard were friends at once. She introduced herself to him as the daughter of a professor, and Richard's impressive manner seemed to please her greatly.

Wolfgang was greatly moved, and whispered to me:

"I can now for the first time, say the best words: 'grandfather,' 'uncle;' and" – turning quickly to Johanna-"'aunt;' to Julius I have already said 'cousin,' and I shall soon have more cousins."

The brothers were soon involved in a most zealous discussion of the great questions of the day. Richard warned Ludwig against permitting the demagogues to make use of him, as their only aim was to foment disturbance, and to abuse all existing institutions. They were wholly without lofty or honest aims of their own. When he warned him to be on his guard and not to permit this or that one to influence his views of affairs in the Fatherland, Ludwig replied: "With your permission, I shall begin with you." Richard observed that, just as time helps to correct our judgments, in regard to past events, so does distance aid us in criticising contemporary history. It may take ten years before we can see the Europe of the present in the light in which it appears to the unprejudiced American of to-day; and when he asked Ludwig whether we might not cherish the hope that he would now remain in the old world, Ludwig answered that, with all his love of home, he did not believe he would be able to give up the perfect independence of American life.

"And what do you think on the subject, my dear sister-in-law?"

"I am of the same opinion as my husband."

Richard expressed a wish that Ludwig might, at some future day, take charge of the family estate, as there was no one else who could do it. It seemed to me, indeed, that, in all that he said, Richard was trying to determine Ludwig to unite his fortunes with those of the Fatherland.

Ludwig, who had come by way of France, could tell us much of the great excitement that had been produced there by the plebiscite.

The brothers were agreed that the expression of the popular will had been accompanied by fearful deceit on the part of the authorities; but they did not agree as to the object contemplated by that deceit.

"I was often obliged," said Ludwig, "to think of our old schoolmaster, who explained the philosophic beauty of the Latin language to us by the fact that volo has no imperative; but the author of the 'Life of Cæsar' has shown us, by means of the plebiscite, that volo has an imperative."

Ludwig asserted that the majority of educated Frenchmen hated and despised Napoleon; for all the large cities, with the exception of Strasburg, which gave a small majority on the other side, had voted no. At the same time, what they hated and despised in him was just what they themselves were; for every individual Frenchman really desires to be a Napoleon; and the no that a portion of the army had voted, simply meant, "We want war." Napoleon had undermined every sense of duty, and the misfortune of France was that no one there believed in the honesty or the unselfishness of another creature.

"I have also made the acquaintance of French emigrants in America. It is, of course, unfair to judge of a nation by its emigrants; but I could not help being struck by the fact that those whom I met had no confidence in any one."

Richard, on the other hand, had a very good opinion of the French. He told us that about the time he was working in the library at Paris, he had travelled much through France, and had made the acquaintance of Frenchmen of every station in life.

"The French are industrious and temperate, and a people of whom that can be said, has a noble destiny awaiting it. They have a great desire to please, which makes them agreeable, and gives all their work the impress of good taste. They are fond of all that partakes of the decorative, whether it be a glittering phrase or a badge. If that which, from its very nature, ought to be general, could gain distinction for them-if there could be an aristocracy in republican virtue, I cannot help believing that the Frenchmen would be unbending republicans."

"Yes," said Ludwig; "and they are humane, also. The vain and conceited man is usually generous and communicative: he thinks he has so many advantages that he is glad to bestow a share on others, and is annoyed and almost angry if they do not care to accept his bounty; for he considers their declining it as a want of belief in his superiority, and is surprised to find that others do not hunger and thirst for the things that he regards as delicacies."

The brothers became involved in all sorts of discussions, and, although Richard was the younger of the two, he showed, in a certain patronizing way, how pleased he was to find that the school of experience had moderated Ludwig's views. For the brothers agreed on one point-that, as there was no one church which could alone save mankind, so there was no one form of government which could alone make all men free. After all, everything depended on the honesty and the morality of the citizen, and, for that reason, it could not be maintained that the republican form of government was a guarantee of freedom, or that a monarchy necessarily implied a condition of servitude.

The brothers now understood each other better than they had done in former times.

Richard always occupied himself with general principles, while I can only interest myself in particulars. The first question that I ask myself is, How does the rule apply to this or that one? Richard is different. He has no eye for isolated cases, but a far-seeing glance where general principles are concerned. He looks upon everything from a certain lofty historical point of view. He regards the hilly region in which we live with the eye of an artist and a scientist, noticing the elevations and the depressions, without giving a thought to the people who dwell among them. He does not see the villages, much less a single villager.

My experience with Richard solved a question which had always been a riddle to me. He has no love for the people, and is, nevertheless, an advocate of liberty. Until now, I could not understand how it was possible; now it is clear to me.

Advocates of liberty are of two classes. The one class ask for it as a logical necessity; the other are disappointed when the people, or portions thereof, become obstinate or prove themselves unworthy of freedom. The former have nothing to do with mankind, but simply busy themselves with the idea of liberty, and are, for that reason, more positive and exacting and less given to fine talk.

Formerly, Richard had been dissatisfied with all of Ludwig's actions and opinions. He was opposed to all that was violent; but now Richard had become the more liberal, and Ludwig the more conservative, of the two. It was in America, where the tendency seemed towards a loosening of all restraint, that Ludwig had for the first time learned to attach importance to the preservation of established institutions. While they were yet children under the instructions of Pastor Genser, who afterward became my son-in-law, the two boys had given much of their time to music. To listen to Richard playing the violincello and Ludwig playing the piano, was one of the greatest pleasures that our household afforded Gustava and myself.

Ludwig has given up music, and they can now no longer play together. But when I heard them talking in unrestrained converse, and observed how the one transposed the mood and the thoughts of the other into his own key, and developed it, adding new combinations of ideas; and when I noticed how the eye of either speaker would, from time to time, rest upon the other with a joyful expression, it seemed yet more beautiful and more grateful to my heart than any music could be. And withal, each temperament preserved its own melody. Richard looked forward for some event that would mark a turning-point in the affairs of men, or for the advent of some great man, to utter the command, "Come, and follow me." Ludwig added that liberation could only be brought about by one who possessed a cool head and a firm hand, so that, without swerving a hair's breadth to either side, he could put in the knife where it was needed.

Richard, with more than his wonted animation, spoke joyfully of being released from the opposition party, and when Ludwig approvingly said that the time was now coming for Germany in which those who were dissatisfied with its laws and institutions would not be the only free ones, Richard again urged him to consider how hard it would be if no one of us should take charge of the estate, and it should thus at some day fall into the hands of strangers.

"That is no misfortune," replied Ludwig. "Our posterity may again become poor, just as our ancestors were; all property must change hands at some time or other. To encourage the fond desire of retaining possession of a so called family estate, savors of aristocratic feeling."

Richard was struck by this reply, and said: "You are more familiar with the history of the Indians than I am; but do you recollect the reply of the chief whom they were endeavoring to persuade to move off with those who belonged to him, into another territory-'Give us the graves of our ancestors to take with us?' And, Ludwig, over there is the grave of our mother."

There was a long silence after that, and Ludwig merely replied, "You do wrong to urge me so."

Martella had been sitting near by while the two had been carrying on their familiar conversation. In all likelihood, she had understood but little of what was said, for, while discussing the improvement of the whole world, they indulged themselves in vistas of the distant future. But Martella would look first at one and then at the other, and then at me, nodding approval each time. And afterward, when she and I were alone together, she said, "Father, your eyes told me how happy you were, and you must have thought just as I did; did you not? Ah, if Ernst only knew how his brothers are here talking with each other from their very hearts! Indeed, if he were here he would be the most sensible of all, for there is no one like Ernst."

CHAPTER VII

Ludwig's servant entered and inquired whether he might accompany "madame" (meaning Johanna) to church.

"You may go," replied Ludwig to the servant, who saluted in curt military style and left the room.

Richard inquired where the man was from, for his pronunciation would prove him a North German.

Ludwig replied, "Yes, he is a specimen of North German discipline and reliability.

"Although he was willing to work at anything, he was almost perishing with want when I made his acquaintance. I took him into my service, and every order I gave was executed by him as implicitly as if he were obeying an imperative law of nature.

"One evening I had an appointment to meet several persons at the town hall; I took him with me, and said to him, 'Willem, wait here for me.'

"I entered and had a lengthy interview-forgot Willem, and left through another door.

"The next morning I came back to the town hall, and there stood Willem.

"'What are you doing there?' I asked.

"'Ik warte.'5 said he.

"He had waited there all night, and would probably have waited the whole of that day, if I had not by chance come there.

"After that, we always called him 'Ik-warte.'"

We were so happy together. It was one of those moments that one wishes might be prolonged forever, and in which one dreads to move from his seat for fear of breaking the spell. Our happiness was, however, not to be of long duration.

The locksmith's widow came, bringing her children with her. They brought a pot of fine honey, and fresh garlands of daisies and violets.