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 now
The darkening cloud.
Still united,
Soon divided;
Now creating,
Now destroying:
Joined divinely,
Fire and water
In 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.
It was towards evening when I reached the house. I had not been so tired for a long time; for climbing forest-clad mountains, while excited by emotions, be they ever so joyous, is apt to exhaust one. But I was looking forward into a happy future.
When I awoke on the following morning, Wolfgang stood at my bedside, and said: "Grandfather, it has rained during the night; our plants are thriving beautifully. Now I can tell you-I have determined to become a forester."
I had, on the previous day, explained to Wolfgang a beautiful provision of nature; how, when, through accident, the growth of the main trunk of the pine-tree is interfered with, a side branch becomes converted into the main trunk. None of my sons had become foresters, and now Julius and Wolfgang were side-branches that made up for it.
I believe it was fortunate that Wolfgang's resolve to become a forester sprang from his affection for the forest, and not from his love of the hunting.
Unfortunately, the other motive had been Ernst's. I had often warned him, but in vain.
CHAPTER X
A few days after that, I was surprised by a newspaper article, which had been written by my son Ludwig.
I have preserved it. It read as follows:
"THREE QUESTIONS AND THREE ANSWERS
"All hail to the friends of my youth, and of my Fatherland!
"Every one has a right to address three questions to me; and, as it is not one of the pleasures of life to repeat the same thing a hundred times, I hope I may be permitted to answer in this public manner.
"First: How goes it with you, and do you intend to remain with us?
"It goes well with me. For the first few years I spent in America, I had hard times; but I worked my way through. I am not rich, but have enough. I married a German, the daughter of Professor Uhlenkemp. I lost my eldest son during the war with the South, and have another son sixteen years of age, who belongs to no religious denomination.
"As to my remaining here, or leaving, I am for the present, unable to answer.
"Second: What do you think of emigration to America?
"Answer: The United States afford elbow-room and freedom, and are a good refuge for people who are willing to work hard in order to achieve independence. But he who emigrates must make up his mind to forego many pleasures, with which we at home are so familiarized that we do not know that we are enjoying them; just as we do not miss the drink of fresh, pure water, until it can no longer be had, and do not think of the pure air while it is ours to breathe.
"Third: How do you find Germany?
"I find only halves of Germany; but they must and will-who knows how soon-become a whole Germany.
"The German people have become more practical and well-to-do than they were formerly. As far as I have been able to observe, there is an abundance of well-directed energy; great activity in all that pertains to the trades, to science or to art, and enough liberty to achieve what is still needed to make a complete whole. Let all remain strong and firm, and, without faltering, faithfully labor for the common weal.
"These are my answers; and to every one whom I meet and find true to the Fatherland and to liberty, I shall cordially extend the hand of fellowship.
"LUDWIG WALDFRIED,"Hydraulic and Civil Engineer,"Chicago."
This explanation of Ludwig's naturally caused me some surprise. But it was practical, at all events, although the reference to Wolfgang seemed unnecessary, and calculated to provoke unpleasant comment.
I soon became aware of its effect, in a manner which, at first, promised to be unpleasant, but afterward proved for the best.
Although Annette was still living in our neighborhood, I have not mentioned her for some time. She would ride over to see us, but paid us only short visits, and would occasionally inquire about the Professor, as she, too, now termed Richard.
She seemed provoked at him, and probably felt resentment that the friendship, and, perhaps, affection, which she had offered him were not returned.
She visited the spinner and the schoolmaster's wife; she greeted Martella and Rothfuss, but her whole manner seemed strange and constrained. I soon knew the reason for this; for Johanna expressed her satisfaction that Annette, who had been so worldly, had at last been saved; "for," as she said, "safety can be found even in the Catholic faith."
The Baroness and her clerical assistants had succeeded in drawing Annette into their toils.
One day, Annette came to us looking pale and greatly excited. She said that, although I had so many guests, she begged me to permit her to stay with us for a few days. She frankly confessed that she had, now and forever, broken with the Baroness and all her adherents. The Baroness had endeavored to bind all who were in the faith to break off intercourse with our family; for it is written, "woe to that man by whom the offense cometh," and the worst offense had issued from our house. The fact that my daughter-in-law considered herself a wife, although her marriage had not been solemnized by a clergyman, might have been passed over in silence; but the public proclamation of the grandson's want of religion was exasperating.
Annette had determined to flee from such fanatical surroundings.
I told her of Wolfgang's power of self-control, and how he had held back a resolution which illumined his whole being until he had quietly matured it; and Annette exclaimed, "Yes; that is the best religion; that is a holy spirit."
I was obliged to restrain her from expressing herself thus to Wolfgang. On the following day, Ludwig returned; and this afforded her an opportunity to unbosom herself to him. At their first meeting, he conceived a great liking for her.
He told her of the great family gathering that was to be held.
As she was not related by ties of kindred, she did not wish to remain with us.
But Ludwig induced her to stay; and when he and I were alone, he said, "I cannot understand why Richard does not sue for her hand; she seems to be made for him."
I told him that, on her deathbed, mother had said, "He will marry her for all."
I now felt satisfied that Gustava had, in all likelihood, referred to Annette. Ludwig felt sure of it; but, as if at the same time marking out his own course, he said, "Father, do not let Richard notice our feelings in this matter, or we may frighten him away."
Wolfgang's desire to become a forester met with the glad approval of his father, who said: "It will soon turn out with the American forests just as it does with the fishes of the sea. One cannot always be harvesting and preying on others; it is necessary to plant and to cultivate as well."
He requested Annette, who was very much interested in Wolfgang, and spent much time with him, not to interfere with his wonted equanimity; for she was constantly trying to discover how Wolfgang felt when he saw a church-steeple, or heard the church-bells. She had just emerged from an atmosphere which was religious to the exclusion of all other considerations, and the youth was therefore a mysterious and marvellous contrast to all that she had left behind her. He seemed to her the representative being of later centuries; and she tried to discover how things would be after our generation. She was pleased to call Wolfgang 'Emile, and reminded us of Rousseau's work of the name.
Ludwig's wife avoided Annette, who, in her impulsive way, had at once desired to cultivate intimate relations with her. Conny, who was quiet and reserved, had a dread of the restless fluttering of such a being as Annette.