Waldfried: A Novel

Ludwig advised the children-they were two girls and a boy-above all things not to consider themselves Americans; for if Germans would work as they do in America, they could do just as well as the Americans.

The widow said that she would like to have a talk with Ludwig alone, for she looked upon him as the guardian of her children. Ludwig promised to pay her a visit at an early day.

She was about leaving when new guests arrived.

Funk called, but he had discreetly sent in advance his parade horse, Schweitzer-Schmalz, who was attired in the national costume she was so fond of, with large, round, silver buttons. He walked along with an air of great importance, with his bull neck, his face shining with good living, and his thick eyelids, from beneath which his little eyes cast their contemptuous glances. He was followed by the village lawyer, a man of pleasing appearance, and, indeed, a noble being who had but one fixed idea, and that was that the world was to be protected against all corporalism.

Funk followed after these two fit companions of his. He had not been in my house for four years.

Schweitzer-Schmalz was the first to speak, and uttered a short, hearty, "Welcome, Ludwig!"

For the first time, he avoided his haughty manner of treating every one as "little fellow." The tall, commanding appearance of Ludwig awed him.

After that, the lawyer delivered a somewhat longer and quite fervent speech, and I was obliged to beg Richard to keep quiet, for he whispered to me, "All this so early in the morning, and without an audience of empty bottles!"

Funk extended his hand in silence and nodded significantly, as if he meant to say, "You know already what I mean."

Martella brought wine and glasses. It hurt me to feel that she was in the presence of Funk, who had, years ago, so maliciously dragged her name before the political meeting.

I had told Ludwig nothing of my rupture with Funk.

Funk inquired about several who had been their companions in revolution and who had emigrated. Of many, Ludwig could give no information, while of some he could give us good report, and of many others, sad news.

Ludwig disapproved of the emigration fever.

The turn that the conversation had taken did not seem to Funk's taste; but Ludwig was able to direct it as he desired, and, addressing himself more especially to the lawyer, he spoke of the intimate relations that existed between our country-South Germany in particular-and America.

Owing to their innate energy, and in spite of want, misery and ignorance of the language, the proportion who succeed in attaining wealth, position, and honors is much larger with the first generation of emigrants than with their children who are born in America.

Statistics had proven that, in spite of want and temptation, the first generation offered far fewer objects for the jails than did the second. On the other hand, the former were more largely represented in the insane asylums.

Funk was evidently displeased, and emptied his glass at one draught. Although he laughed, he seemed ill at ease when Schweitzer-Schmalz said, "There you have it. I have always told you little folk may emigrate; but the right sort of a man," he said, stroking his fat belly at the same time, "knows where he is best off, and keeps at home."

"I believe that you are also one of the deceived ones," said Ludwig, supplementing his remarks. "You cannot know, or, at all events, only know it superficially, that the projectors of new railroads attempt to help the price of their shares by encouraging emigration into the territory traversed by their road, and that many who get gratuities by them do not even know this."

Funk suggested that a festive gathering of people from the village and surrounding country should take place on any Sunday that Ludwig might fix upon. The meeting was to be in honor of his arrival. At this time he was doubly welcome, for he would assist in dispelling the Prussian pestilence.

"I see you are still fond of set phrases," replied Ludwig, and added: "How strange it is since the congress of Vienna, all friends of the Fatherland have been clamoring for a man who, with firm hand and shrewd judgment, would, regardless of consequences, force Germany into unity; and now that he is with us, they hurl stones at him. And do you know, Professor, what it is that particularly pleases me in Bismarck?" he exclaimed roguishly.

"How should I know?"

"He has fortunately one of those rare names that can be pronounced the same in all languages."

"We had thought we should meet an old republican-an enemy of tyrants!" exclaimed Funk.

"I have not changed in that respect," answered Ludwig. "The question whether a republic or a monarchy should be preferred, is about the same as if one were to ask which is better, meat or farinaceous food? All depends upon the manner in which the food is prepared, and upon the digestive powers of the stomach. But don't let us dispute now. I trust we shall have a chance yet to discuss these matters more calmly."

"What day have you determined on?" inquired Funk.

Ludwig said that he desired no such compliment. He preferred to renew his acquaintance with the people and their circumstances in a quiet, unobtrusive manner.

The church bells began tolling, and Funk said: "Perhaps you wish to go to church? You have probably grown religious, too?"

"Thanks for catechizing me," said Ludwig.

"Ah, I forgot to address you as 'Colonel,'" said Funk.

"That makes no difference, although my rank is that of colonel. I was promoted at the front, and it is the greatest pride of my life that I did my duty in the war for wiping out slavery."

I do not know whether it was shrewdness or arrogance towards his companion or ourselves, that induced Schweitzer-Schmalz to assume his wonderfully self-complacent air.

"Yes, Colonel," said he, "another American war would not be so unpleasant to us after all?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Why, that we gained one great advantage from it, or, as my student says, 'pitch.'"

"I do not understand you."

"Yes," began Schweitzer-Schmalz, after emptying his glass, "your father doesn't like rosin; but, for the little farmers, the pine-trees which give rosin are just like so many milchcows. I have a piece of woodland that I milked hard, because, so long as the war lasted, no rosin came from America, and the price of ours went up very much."

Richard could not refrain from remarking on the wonderful connection that made changes in one country affect the most distant portions of the globe. And thus the visit, which had promised to be so disagreeable, ended quite pleasantly.

Funk and his companions left, and when Richard was about to speak of Funk's emptiness, Ludwig replied:

"You are deceived in him. He is full of what we, in America, call 'steam.' He has a restless spirit of enterprise."

My daughter-in-law and Johanna went to church together, and Ikwarte followed after them.

The watchman came, and Ludwig gave him a considerable present.

After that, Ludwig requested me to accompany him to the statue gallery, where he said: "Father, I have brought nothing for you; but I know that your greatest pleasure is to do acts of beneficence; let me, therefore, place this sum of money in your hands, so that you may distribute it according to your best judgment. If I can do good through you, I shall be doing good to myself; and, as mother is no longer living, I must ask you to attend to this for me."

I doubt whether in yonder church there was one heart more piously inclined than ours were on that day.

But it seems that nothing in life can remain perfectly pure and undisturbed.

We were just about sitting down to dinner, when a wretched-looking creature, called Wacker, entered. He lived in the neighboring valley, and had once been a comrade of Ludwig's at the Polytechnic school. He had left school at an early day, in order to take charge of a beer brewery, and had become a drunkard. His place had been sold out, and he now wandered about from one little tavern to another, where he would spend the day between maudlin curses and drunken slumbers. When he entered the house, it was only noon, and he was already intoxicated.

"Brother," he exclaimed, "give me one of your California lumps of gold; or, if that is asking too much, see that I have free tap for one year at the 'Lamb.' Here is my hand. If the war begins again, I will help. Give me hand-money-throat-money-throat-money!"

He offered his hand to Ludwig, who declined it. I saw his indignation; his glance fell on Ludwig's wife and on Wolfgang, for the latter seemed surprised that the degraded creature should address his father in such familiar terms. Wacker begged for a gift, but Ludwig refused it with the words, "Get some employment, and then I will help you, but not before."

Wacker replied in vile, abusive terms.

Ludwig instantly collared him and led him from the room.

We could hear him cursing, after he got out into the road; and then he staggered down the hillside.

There was something cold and hard as iron in Ludwig's manner towards all except his nearest kindred, to whom he was kind and gentle.

This interruption was a shrill dissonance in our Sunday's pleasure. We soon forgot it, however.

CHAPTER VIII

In the afternoon, Julius and his betrothed visited us, and, in a little while, letters containing uniform messages were sent in all directions. The Professor, my daughter-in-law, Wolfgang, Johanna and her daughter, Julius and his intended, all wrote; for every one was to have a separate invitation to the great family gathering on the following Sunday. At Ludwig's request, all of our relatives were informed that he insisted on their making the journey at his charge. Those who did not need it should state the amount, nevertheless, and if they so wished might give it to the poor. In this way, no one who could not afford the expense would be prevented from undertaking the journey.

Rothfuss and Ikwarte walked off to town to mail the letters, of which there were nearly fifty. To my sister who lived in the Hagenau forest, I wrote in person.

Rothfuss had told Ikwarte all that he had done for Ludwig, and was not a little surprised to receive, instead of praise, a nod of disapproval and the reproach, "It was not right, after all." He told me of it, and could not understand how that "up there in Prussia," they were not all opposed to the government and glad to deceive it. He seemed to think that Ikwarte, and all like him, were exceedingly simple.

Rothfuss was as jealous of Carl as a reigning prince of the heir apparent. He noticed that Ikwarte was well inclined toward Carl, whose good looks and military air were much in his favor, and he went so far as to confide to Ikwarte that Carl had suffered himself to be taken prisoner in order to avoid fighting.

After that Rothfuss was the sole favorite of Ikwarte, who hardly bestowed a glance on Carl, and barely answered his questions.

A soldier who voluntarily allows himself to be captured! He could not understand how such a man could walk erect, and on Sundays wear his soldier's cap with the red pompon.

"He knows nothing about oxen, but he is a first-rate judge of horses," said Rothfuss, speaking of Ikwarte; "and he holds the plough as if he were screwed fast to it. And he can work, too; that's certain. And he is modest. Instead of saying 'No,' he always says, 'I am not sure;' and instead of saying 'Yes,' he says, 'It is so.' He can't sing, nor even yodel; and the greatest praise he gives any one is to say, 'He is a steady fellow.' And when he wishes to say that you are right, he says, 'It agrees.' And he is not at all inquisitive; he never asks who any one is."

Willem was just as sparing of words as Rothfuss was lavish of them; and it was a droll sight to watch the two sitting together. I think that each one considered himself the superior of the other and patronized him accordingly. Rothfuss did it with words, Ikwarte with glances. He evidently regarded Rothfuss as an old child; and Rothfuss, in turn, looked upon him as a poor awkward being who had not learned how to express himself properly. When they spoke to each other, they always screamed at the top of their voices; each only understood about half of what was said by the other, and they thought they might help matters by screaming.

Rothfuss could hardly be brought to believe that Ikwarte had not emigrated on account of his being unable to endure German oppression; but Ikwarte was without a trace of political opinion. All that he knew of the state was that one should serve it as a soldier and pay taxes. Of Ludwig, he said, "My master is a man, and a man of his word at that."

Towards his master, he had a certain feeling of implicit and dutiful obedience; he was fond of saying, "Let everything be well grounded."

Rothfuss consoled him with the words: "Don't mind it, if they try to tease and worry you here. If you plant a strange tree in the forest, the stags will rub their horns against it and tear the bark, but the tree is not harmed, after all."

Rothfuss was quite beside himself with laughter when Ikwarte asked him what bodily infirmity had prevented my two servants, who had not been soldiers, from entering the army. He could not understand that we still drew lots in our neighborhood.

Ludwig had gone to the capital to make various arrangements for the family meeting, and I remained at home working in the forest with Carl and Ikwarte, whose clever ways and even temper greatly pleased me.

CHAPTER IX

The schoolmaster's wife and Martella had decorated our steps and the doorway with flowers and garlands, to the great delight of all of us, and Ludwig in particular. But on the second day, Ludwig said to Rothfuss:

"Take down the wreaths; nothing is uglier than to let flowers hang until they wilt."

"He is right," said Rothfuss, smiling. "My mother always said that Sunday clothes should not be worn on week days. Ludwig's mother had good sense, and so had mine."

On the third day, Ludwig said, "Father, I shall now leave my wife and son with you for a few days."

He sent his little trunk ahead, and, throwing his plaid over his shoulder, took up his walk through the valley and over the mountains. Richard, who was obliged to examine several candidates for the doctor's degree, accompanied him.

I felt surprised that Ludwig should leave me so soon, but by noon it was clear to me that he had acted wisely. His wife and son were much more at their ease when they found themselves alone with me; for, with all his kindness, there was something commanding in Ludwig's manner which made every one feel as if under restraint while in his presence.

His wife was quiet and self-contained, and, seeing that I noticed this, told me that she had been living on a lonely farm with her father, who was very sparing of his words, and that she had thus acquired a habit of silence. After her marriage and her father's death, which soon followed it, Ludwig had been obliged, by his engagements as constructor of water-works, to spend days and weeks away from home. It was not until the last year, when they had moved into a city, that he was more at home; but, even then, public affairs claimed a great share of his time. During the war, he had been in the field with the army for at least two years.

She had seen much trouble. She was but twelve years old when the family emigrated to America. During the first few years, her parents employed themselves as teachers; and when, in rapid succession, the mother and her brother and sister died, she and her father moved to the farm. Assisted by a couple of free negroes who helped in the field, she was obliged to conduct the whole household. The two children she had lost had died because medical assistance could not be obtained in time, and, for that reason, they had moved to the city. Their eldest son had died while Ludwig was in the army, fighting against the secessionists.

She gently hinted that it was her wish to remain in Europe, but that she would not urge this, as she feared Ludwig would not find a large enough field for his energy. She said that he was accustomed to constant and varied activity, and stood very high at home.

It was with some hesitation that she asked me whether I objected to the fact of her having only been married by civil process, and that Wolfgang belonged to no church. I reassured her, for I felt well satisfied that Johanna had already made persistent attempts at conversion in this quarter. My daughter-in-law became much attached to Joseph's wife and the school-master's. She was very fond of raising flowers, and determined to take many different kinds of seeds back to America with her.

While the presence of my newly found daughter was a quiet pleasure, my grandson was an incomparable joy to me. He was at my side from morning till night. I think he must have asked Martella to tell him what pleased me, for he seemed to anticipate my every wish.

I showed him our own saw-mill, and also the one that belonged to the village. He readily understood the principle of the machinery, and seemed to have quite a store of general information.

I had a little nursery of forest-trees; it was well situated. Martella was always my best assistant: she knew all about planting and how to care for the plants that had been raised from the seed, and, morever, had a watchful eye for the grubworm. Since she came to us there had not been one of these to destroy the seed.

I now went there with Wolfgang, and his first question, on seeing the thriving bed, was whether it were still early enough in the year to sow seeds of forest-trees.

We had some soaked one-year-old seeds. We marked his name in the ground, and he laid the seeds in the furrow, after the subsoil had been trodden down so that the seeds might at once have firm soil in which to take root. After that, we placed loose and fertile earth on top.

I explained to him our manner of working: how we mixed lime with the barren soil of the heath, and thus produced the best and most nourishing soil for the young shoots; how the seed should be sown after spring had fairly set in, and how, after the tender plants had reached the age of two years, they should be transferred to the nursery, there to remain until their fifth year, when they were to be set out in the place they were finally to occupy; how the new nursery should not face directly towards the north, on account of the absence of light, and because the plants could not then be transplanted to land exposed to direct rays of the sun, on account of their not being accustomed to such intense light.

"Grandfather, how long does it take, after planting the seeds, before the plant shows itself through the soil?"

"Two, or, at the most, three weeks; it generally shows before that time."

I shall never forget the look that Wolfgang then gave me, and it moved my heart to think that my grandson, who was born in America, had planted his name in German soil.

I asked Wolfgang if he did not wish to accompany me up into the woods where my wood-cutters were at work. He took my hand in silence.

I took my gun with me, for I was on the lookout for a fox which had its cave a short distance from the road; but it had slipped out with its young ones. I handed my second gun to Wolfgang; we shot wild pigeons, and my setter brought them to us, laid them down before Wolfgang, and looked up into his face.

I must be brief, however. I have always been fortunate enough to see something more in the forest than merely so many cords of wood. But how weakly words describe the sunshine, the forest-breezes, the singing of the birds, or cheerful walks through shady groves, with resting-places on heights where the lovely valley is spread before one's eyes. It had never been so charming as on that very day.

We met Rautenkron, and he was carrying two young does whose mother had been driven away by a strange hound. I introduced Wolfgang to him; but he shook his head and made no reply.

"What a sullen, gloomy man," said Wolfgang. "Can one become so in these lovely woods, so full of sunshine and the songs of birds? But yet he must be good, for all that; he carried the does."

I felt obliged to explain how that might have come about. The roe lures the dogs on false scents, in order to save its young ones.

We heard sounds of a church-bell coming up from the valley, and met Rautenkron's laborers carrying their caps in their hands; they passed us in silence.

I explained to Wolfgang that these were Catholics, and that they were praying.

I grasped his hand, and said, "Since you confess no especial form of religion, it is doubly your duty, both for your own sake and for that of freedom, always to remain brave and steadfast, so that people shall not be able to say-"

"I know already, grandfather, what you wish to say. You can depend upon me."

We continued our walk up the mountain, which was known as Silvertop. From its peak one can see far over the mountain-peaks, with their dark-green mantle, in which the ravines form majestic folds. There were remnants of a fire at which the forest-laborers had prepared their noonday meal. I threw a few handfuls of brushwood on the fire; the flames arose on high. Wolfgang exclaimed: "Grandfather, it was just like this! It was just so that I saw you in my dreams. And now I can remember what you said. It often annoyed me to think that I had forgotten it; the voice was powerful, and said, 'The water nourishes the tree, and the fire destroys it; the water roars, and the fire gently sleeps.' Thus … and so on."

Wolfgang's eye glowed with a strange expression, and I had just opened my lips to address him, when he vehemently motioned me away with both hands, and, gazing into the distance, said in an impressive tone, "Yes, I hear the sound; it came from the blazing fire."

Far above us,In the heavens,Hovers nowThe darkening cloud.Still united,Soon divided;Now creating,Now destroying:Joined divinely,Fire and waterIn its bosom,Peaceful, dwell.

The youth looked about him as if in ecstasy, and then grasping my hand in both of his, he said: "Yes, grandfather; daring my illness I saw you standing in the forest at such a fire. You can ask father-but you believe me, don't you?"

"Of course."

The countenance of the youth seemed illumined with joy.

We seated ourselves on a bench, and silently gazed at the distant prospect.

At last Wolfgang spoke. "Grandfather, now I have it. In your forest garden are your grandson trees. The seed comes from the trees that you planted. And now I know something. I know it quite positively, but I can keep it to myself. Father always says that one should not be too hasty in talking of important things that one intends to do; it is best to sleep on them first. If one is of the same mind the next morning, it is all right. I shall tell it you tomorrow, but not to-day. My idea is a good one, and I think it will please you as much as it does me."

We took up our path, and stopped where some woodcutters were rolling the trunk of a tree down the mountainside; it bounded over young trees in its way, and Wolfgang said. "Won't it crush them?"

"Oh, pshaw!" said a wood-cutter, "They'll straighten themselves again. We have to do the same thing ourselves."

We reached the spot where my woodmen were at work. Wolfgang at once took hold of an axe and helped them lustily. But here, too, he showed his good judgment. He was not hasty, as novices usually are, and soon succeeded in copying the manner of the workmen.

We kept up our walk until we reached the mountain lake. The last time I had been in this spot was twenty years ago, with Gustava; and now it seemed as if I were there for the first time in my life.

There lay the lake, surrounded by steep, pine-covered walls; not a sound was heard, save at times the roaring of the trees, and the solemn beating of the waves against the shore. The sun shone on the water, and its ripples sparkled like so many glittering diamonds.

"Do you come here often?" asked Wolfgang.

"No; the last time I was here was with grandmother, twenty years ago."

It went hard with me to leave the lake. Who knows whether I shall live to return there again? It will ever remain unchanged; for generation after generation shall come here, as to a shrine, and yield itself up to the mysterious influence of the place.

When we at last started to leave, I was often obliged to turn and look back. I constantly felt that now it must be full of its awful beauty, and that I had seen it for the last time.