Joseph in the Snow, and The Clockmaker. In Three Volumes. Vol. I.

CHAPTER V.
A DAY OF TROUBLE

The whole night through, Martina continued as restless as if she knew by intuition that, at this very time, a kind and honest heart had revived the sad story of her life. She was full of impatience, and felt as if she must rush out into the world, in order suddenly to change the whole course of her life – as if it were in her power to accomplish this! The cocks crowed more loudly, and occasionally a cow was heard lowing, and a dog barking. Surely day would soon dawn now.

Martina rose, and lighted the stove, and made a good fire on the hearth besides. She was anxious that the soup for breakfast should be particularly good today, for the sempstress, Leegart, was to arrive early, as little Joseph was to get a new green jacket of Manchester cloth. A slate was lying on the table, on which little Joseph had on the previous evening drawn a gigantic figure of a man, formidable to be seen, and yet the child had said "Look! that is my father." Martina could not help thinking this strange, as she rubbed out the figure. She wished she could as easily efface from the child's memory what she had told him the night before when he was going to sleep, about his father, and that he was to come this very day; that was probably why the child during the night had called out three times, "Is it morning yet?" Martina gazed long at the blazing fire, and half unconsciously sung: —

 
Faithful love my bosom fills, —
Can true love ever fade?
Oh! what a smile that heart must wear
That never was betrayed!
 
 
I cannot brook the heedless gaze
Of them that haunt the busy mart;
And tears come welling to my eyes,
Up from the fountains of my heart.
 

When Martina, with the pitcher in her hand, opened the door, a strong blast of bitter cold wind rushed in; so she wrapped herself more closely: in the red shawl, with which she had covered her head and her throat, and went along to the well. The day was biting cold, and the water pipes all frozen; indeed there was no water left unfrozen, except in the deep well close to the church. A crowd of women and girls were standing round the well, and when the pitchers were too full, so that the water ran over, there was a great outcry, for the water froze so quickly that it made the ground like slippery ice. The early sun peeped forth for a minute into the valley, but apparently the sight did not please him, for he quickly disappeared again behind the clouds. The fields and meadows were glittering brightly with morning hoarfrost, a chilling sight; for everything freezes quickly when without a sheltering cover of snow. A thick surface of snow, however, lay on the hills.

"God be praised; you will see that these clouds will bring honest snow at last, today!"

"A blessing for the fields, for it is a sorrow to see them so yellow."

"We have always hitherto had snow at Christmas, and sledging at the New Year – " this was the kind of talk round the well. The words of the speakers issued like vapoury clouds from their lips.

"Is it true?" said an elderly woman to Martina when she joined them, "Is it true that our pastor was called to your mother-in-law's last night?"

"I think," said another, "that Röttmann would have no objection to saw up the tree that killed Vincent, and to make a coffin of it for his tigress."

"A very good thing if she were to take herself off, and then you would get your Adam."

"And then we should have a quiet Röttmännin instead of a fierce one."

"If I were you, I would pray the old woman to death. The tailor of Knuslingen knows a prayer, by which you can pray a person to death."

"No, no; you must curse them to death."

This was the discursive talk that went round. Martina, who had filled her pitcher with water, and lifted it on her head, only replied, "Don't speak in so godless a way, remember that tonight is Christmas Eve."

She went slowly homewards, as if the words, that still sounded in her ears, made her linger behind, and she shivered when it occurred to her that perhaps little Joseph had a presentiment of what was going on so far from him, and that this had made him so restless. She had inwardly reproached Adam with not suffering as she did, and at that very hour, he was perhaps enduring the most severe trial that can befall any human being – that of seeing the person you love best on earth draw their last breath with bitter hatred in their soul.

The group of women standing round the well seemed to be in no hurry, for some were leaning on their full pitchers, and some had placed them on their heads, but all were talking of Martina.

"Martina would gladly go to the parsonage today."

"She is a strange creature. Old Röttmann offered her two thousand guilders if she would give up all claims for her boy on his father, but she refused at once."

"And old Schilder-David refuses also."

"Good morning, Häspele," said some one hastily; "what are your hens doing? are they all safe and sound?"

"Is it true that you have a long-legged bird that crows in Spanish? Can you understand him?"

This was the mode of greeting to the only man who came to the well with a pitcher. It was Häspele. He wore a grey knitted jacket, and had a coloured nightcap on his head, from underneath which a jovial, merry face was seen, full of fun and good humour.

"Martina was here a few minutes ago; she is sure to come back soon," said one of the women, as she went away.

Häspele smiled his thanks, but was obliged to wait till all the women had filled their pitchers, which he did willingly, and was even goodnatured enough to help the others. Just as he had finished drawing water for himself, Martina returned, on which they mutually assisted each other, and walked a considerable way together, for Häspele was obliged to pass Martina's house, in order to reach his own. So, as they went along, Martina informed her companion that the Pastor had been summoned on the preceding night to the Röttmännin, and was not yet come home. She could not resist expressing her hope, that the Pastor might possibly succeed in softening the old woman's hard heart; but Häspele said, "Oh, do not think so. Sooner would the wolf now prowling about our woods come to my room and allow me to chain him up, as I do my goat, than the fierce Röttmännin give way. I told you already all that occurred, when I took home a new pair of boots eight days ago to Adam, and I gave you a message, that he would certainly come to see you today. I myself believe the report, which is, that you intend to set him free." Martina made no answer, but she suddenly stopped before the door of her house, and said, "Look, here comes our Pastor home."

On the opposite side of the river, for Martina's house was on this side of the ferry, a sledge was slowly driven along the high road. A man was seated beside the driver, closely wrapped in a fur cloak, and a fur cap drawn very forward over his face. The driver was comfortably smoking, and made a friendly sign with his whip to Martina, as they passed. It was one of Röttmann's farm-servants whom she knew. She returned the greeting by waving her hand, and went into the house, while Häspele also went homewards.

Just as Martina was about to shut the door, a female voice exclaimed, "Leave it open, for I want to come in too."

"Good morning, Leegart; it is so good of you to come so early," said Martina; and the sempstress, who, in spite of its being winter, wore slippers with high heels, helped to put aside the water cans, for which service Martina thanked her cordially. Leegart would not have done this for most people; any one whom she assisted in any matter unconnected with her work, might well be very proud; she considered it indeed, quite an especial favour to come at all the very day before Christmas, for she was much in request among all the women in the neighbourhood, and wherever she went to work, she was held in high respect. This feeling was evident now, from the manner in which Martina threw open the house door as wide as possible, for her to enter; she received, however, but a cool welcome within doors, for little Joseph exclaimed: "Woe's me, Leegart!"

CHAPTER VI.
HOW A VILLAGE PASTOR WAS SUMMONED TO COURT

The Pastor's wife had been standing a long time at the window, looking earnestly through the panes of glass; the road was only to be seen from a corner window, the view from the others being intercepted by the sharp gables of a projecting barn, which a peasant, from the wish to annoy a former pastor, had built on the spot; adding an unusually high roof, to block out all view from the Parsonage. Now that there was a clergyman whom they all liked, the barn unluckily could not be removed. The Pastor's wife was not able to see very far even from the unobstructed window, for this was one of those days, when twilight seems to prevail from one night to another; the sun shone dimly, like a watery yellow ball, through the thick clouds which now overspread the whole landscape. When the Pastorin saw the sledge close to the house she nodded, but did not open the window, standing still as if fixed to the spot. She would gladly have run down to welcome her husband, but she knew that he disliked any public display of emotion or excitement; he was of a shy and simple nature, and shrunk from all eager welcomes or agitated leave takings.

She sent the maid down however instantly, who quickly pressing the latch opened the house door. In order to do something, the Pastorin once more arranged the cups and the bread, though all was in perfect readiness; she took up her husband's well warmed slippers, lying beside the stove, and turned them the reverse way; she took the kettle with boiling water off the stove, and poured in fresh water. A pleasant warmth was diffused through the room, for people who live on the mountains understand this art.

"Good morning, Lina," said the Pastor, as he at last entered the room, "God be praised, indeed, that I have got home again!" He unfastened his fur cloak, and, as it was heavy, his wife assisted him.

"Is Edward still asleep?"

"No; he is gone out shooting. I sent him to meet you. Did you not see him?"

"No."

The atmosphere of the room seemed too stifling for the Pastor, for he opened the window, stood beside it for a few minutes, and then said: "It was lucky that you did not know about the wolf, prowling about in the wood, that all the people are in search of; perhaps you might have imagined that the monster would swallow me up."

"Come, sit down and warm yourself," answered his wife, pouring him out a cup of hot coffee. "I will hold the cup for you; I see that your fingers are so stiff from cold, that you can't take it yourself. Swallow only a couple of mouthfuls at first. What was the cause of your being sent for, in the middle of the night, to that fierce old woman, the Röttmännin? No, no; first drink your coffee, and you can answer me at your leisure. I can wait."

"Lina," said the Pastor, a singular smile stealing over his face, "Lina, you may well be proud. I must be one of the most agreeable companions in the world. Ah! this coffee is capital. Only think, Lina! it was just one o'clock, for I heard it strike on the Wenger clock when I arrived at Röttmannshof. My reception there was rather noisy, for I was greeted by such an uproarious welcome, that I could really scarcely get out of the sledge. The good people had unchained all the watch-dogs during the night, saying it was not at all necessary to tie them up when the Pastor was coming; the worthy souls really entertaining the strange superstition, that the word of God is a sure defence against vicious dogs, even in the dark. It was some time, therefore, before I could make my way into the house, as all the dogs were first obliged to be shut up in their kennels. Give me another cup of coffee, Lina, it is so good – "

"Well, and what then?" said his wife.

The Pastor looked at her with a smile, and continued —

"The snow in that country comes up to the knees, but it has at least one good property; that of being clean, though it does wet one to the skin in the most remarkable manner. I luckily did not stumble over the huge logs in the yard, hidden in the snow, and the puddles were so obliging as to be frozen over. 'Where is your master?' said I. 'He is in bed.' 'Is he dangerously ill also?' 'No, he is asleep.' 'Really! I am summoned to his dying wife, and the husband is comfortably sleeping:' a very easy going, pleasant world this is, thought I: well, I went straight to the sick woman's room – 'God be praised! Herr Pastor, that you are come at last.' What! that is not surely the voice of a woman at the point of death? I asked why I had been summoned in the middle of the night. 'Oh! my good Herr Pastor,' said the Röttmännin, 'you are so kind, so very kind, and have the art of conversing and instructing so delightfully, that the very sight of you is reviving, and makes me entirely forget my dangerous state. Here have I been lying for seven nights, scarcely able to close my eyes, and I can't tell you how bored and tired I am. I thought the time would never pass, so I just sent for you. You are so good natured, Herr Pastor, I thought you would sit and talk to me for a while and amuse me – my husband must on no account hear that I sent for you, I am not at all in his good graces at present; he goes from home as often as he can, and even when he stays with me, he scarcely says one word; I believe he would have been very glad if I had died long ago, and as for my only child, Adam, he seems scarcely to know that I am in the world. Oh! Herr Pastor! any one obliged as I am to lie here day and night, in this solitary house, unable to do anything, would feel, like me, every day that passes to be an eternity, and every night even worse. If my Vincent were still alive he would have watched by me day and night; he would have nursed me in a way in which no other human being ever can. So my good kind Pastor, sit down here and talk to me. Would you like a glass of good Wachhold brandy? it will warm you, you must take it, and shall positively not refuse. Käty, take down that long-necked green bottle from the shelf, the one farthest back, and give a glass of brandy to the Pastor.' What do you think were my feelings, Lina, when I heard the woman so coolly pouring forth all these fluent speeches?"

"I should have had great difficulty in refraining from very hard words to such a bold evil creature. Quite too bad! To drag you out of your own house, on a cold December night, over snowy mountains."

"And a wolf wandering about, too," said the Pastor, indignantly.

"Don't talk about a wolf," rejoined Lina hastily, "this Röttmännin is the most ferocious wolf of all. I hope you gave her your opinion."

"Assuredly I did – may I be a little vain between ourselves? I must say then, that never in my life was I better pleased with myself. I own I could scarcely help laughing at her cool impertinence, and her childish want of consideration, for children are just so; they only think of themselves, and not of the sacrifices they exact from others. Say what you will, there is a certain degree of simplicity in the selfishness of the Röttmännin; she thinks only of herself and never of others. Of course I did not fail to tell her that it was rather an arbitrary proceeding, so coolly to dispose of a person's night's rest, and that I did not even feel flattered by her esteeming my conversation so highly, and sending a court equipage for me, commanding me to appear at court. Still, as I was actually there and had lost my night's sleep, I conversed with her, and tried to amuse her, so far as my powers permitted, and she took her share in the conversation, relating to me various anecdotes of good and evil; but she evidently preferred the latter, her chief delight being in detailing all sorts of bad actions, to prove the wickedness of the world, and she always wound up by saying: – 'Before I die, there is one favour I ask of God; which is to give me some sign as to Vincent's murderers, that they may be all hanged and burned, even supposing half the village were included.' You know that when she begins on this subject, she is full of vindictive projects; and yet I have pretty good proof that she had no great love for Vincent while he was alive. Now, however, she speaks of him with the most enthusiastic fondness, and as if all her love were buried in his grave, for no heart is so entirely evil that it does not seek some valid reason for such bitterness; striving to prove that it had been devoted to some particular object, for whose sake all else is to be disregarded. I tried to appeal to her conscience by saying, that it was certainly permitted to love the dead, but that nothing more could be done to benefit them, whereas a great deal might be done for the living; and that she ought, at last, to yield about the affair of Adam and Martina, I depicted to her the delight she would take in her grandson; I tried to persuade her, that in reality she had sent for me on this very account, but felt a certain reluctance to own this honestly to me, but – I do believe a wolf must be lurking very near there – the Röttmännin broke out into a loud howl, that she could only have learned from a wolf; it really made me shudder with horror, and I thought to myself, she will die on the spot, for sure am I that her rage will choke her; she clutched the wall in her fury, and scratched it with her nails, and at last sank back; however she very soon started up again, and exclaimed: 'I thank God that I am still alive, and I trust He will spare my life for many a year to come, that, even if I cannot leave my bed, I may still have strength to cry out and to protest, and with my last breath I will cry out and protest, that never, never shall that miserable beggar's daughter, who herself led my Adam astray, become the mistress of this house. Why, in these days, are there no longer men to be found, to send out of the world such a wretched creature, and her child into the bargain? Pretty clergymen we have now! all lazy, good-for-nothing black coats; they have no longer the fear of God before their eyes, for here is a Pastor who actually recommends a reward for sin and wickedness. Martina ought rather to stand at the church door, with a wreath of straw on her head, to do public penance. But here she shall never come; no! not if a thousand such – such hypocritical parsons were to pretend they had a message from Heaven; and if they were to wring my neck for it, my last cry would be, she shan't come here – she shan't come here: I will not suffer it, and this very day I will take care to settle that point.'

"The father and son having been startled out of their sleep by the savage scream of the Röttmännin, now hurried into the room, and the old man spoke to me just as if I had intruded myself of my own accord into his house, and begged me distinctly to understand that he would not allow his wife to be tormented, let Schilder-David send whom he would. Adam stood with clasped hands and looked beseechingly at me. I had no idea that the young man could look so gentle and anxious. I felt as if I were one of those doomed men who, in legends, are summoned by demons to do them a service. What a world this is! Are these the very men to whom, for ten long years past, I have been anxiously preaching the Gospel? Every word that I would fain have said seemed to freeze on my lips. I only desired that the sledge might be instantly got ready to take me home, but they paid no attention to me. At last Adam said, 'I will drive you home myself, Herr Pastor. Pray forgive all that has occurred.'

"'No!' exclaimed his mother, violently, 'he shan't go with you. Christopher, hold him fast; he is quite capable of marrying his good-for-nothing mistress on the spot.' – The father desired Adam to stay at home, and he made a vow to his wife – laying his hand on the Bible that I had left open – (it made me shudder to see the man make such a vow on this holy book) – as a token that he would faithfully perform it – that this very day he would see Adam's betrothal completed with the Forest Miller's Tony.

"I scarcely remember how I got out of the house; I called the servant who had fetched me and told him that I would walk on, and that he was to follow me as soon as possible with the sledge. Morning was just beginning to dawn as I went down the hill and through the forest, and I felt as if I were flying from a cavern where demons dwelt. I don't think that I lost my way, but the wolf met me; the animal stood still for a moment, looked at me as if uncertain what to do, and then trotted off quietly into the wood. I cannot deny that I was trembling from head to foot, and never in my life did I feel so paralyzed from terror as at that instant; besides it was frightfully cold, and I was very foolish to walk on alone. There was no sign of the servant and the sledge. I thought it very possible that those hard hearted creatures would prevent his coming at all, and make me go home on foot; I retraced my steps a short way, and anger and bitterness made me feel actually quite warm – not far from the farm I met the servant, driving along in no hurry, and luckily I found the flask of Kirsch in my pocket, that you made me take with me. I cannot tell you all the thoughts that passed through my mind during the hour when I was driving home, in a half-waking state. Both King Solomon and Sirach have described a wicked woman very impressively; I could furnish them with very lively additions to their delineation – but, my precious Lina, of what value would be either goodness, or the love of a fellow creature, without being tested by wicked men? Still I cannot but rejoice that I have decided on leaving this district. I shall soon enter my fiftieth year, so I require less severe work; I have had hard enough toil in the days of my youth, and even if I lose my present and my future Cure also, by persisting in my resolution, I am quite determined never to marry Adam to any one but Martina."

Drawing a deep breath, and dashing away the tears in her eyes, the Pastorin said: —

"Yes, I do indeed think it will be a very good thing that we should go to another country where men are more civilized, and will also do more justice to your merits."

"Do not forget, however," said the Pastor, "that, although we have often much boorishness to contend against, still we have many very worthy persons here also. In our new destination we shall be sure to find both good and bad, and work enough – but now I must say I am dreadfully tired – I can see no one till eleven o'clock – I must go to rest, so try to keep all as quiet as possible. Good night, or rather good morning! When I rise, I shall feel as if a whole year had elapsed, since the nocturnal visit to the Röttmanns."

The Pastor went to his bedroom, which was cleverly heated, by the parlour stove being placed in the wall between the rooms. Soon all was as still in the house as if it were midnight.

Lina glided about on tip-toe, and she hung a green cloth over the bird-cage, to silence the bird; and, for the second time to day, she gave a liberal breakfast to those unfortunate beggars, waiting outside, the sparrows and goldfinches. The wind speedily dispersed the crumbs she scattered on the window-sill – the hungry little creatures seemed however to find plenty of food, and at last flew away as quietly as if they had known that the Pastor's sleep was not to be disturbed. The Pastorin sat at the window with her work in her hand, and made anxious signs to any one approaching the house to be quiet; presently she saw the most pleasing of all sights in the country – the letter-carrier coming up to the house, and ran down quickly to meet him at the door to prevent his ringing, receiving from him several packets of letters from relatives and friends in the capital. She would not open any of the letters, for she wished that her husband should be with her when she read them, and that they should enjoy all the pleasant news together. None of the letters were however directed to her, and one bore the seal of the Consistorial President.