Waldfried: A Novel
"We were about to cross a meadow. I was afraid of the wet places. 'Follow me,' said she, 'and be careful to look out for the molehills, for there is always dry soil underneath them.'"
While Richard was thus discoursing with unwonted enthusiasm, Johanna had risen from the table and had beckoned to her daughter to follow her.
Richard and my wife had noticed this as well as I had done. They did not allude to it, however, but continued their conversation, agreeing that it was best for the present to let Martella have her own way. They thought that she would in due time undoubtedly awaken to a longing for life's nobler forms, and the deeper meaning that lay beneath them.
My wife had no set plan on which to educate Martella.
"She is to live with us, and that of itself will educate her. She sees every one of us attending to his appointed labor. That will, of itself, soon teach her where her duty lies, and will help to make her orderly and methodical. She sees that our lives are sincere, and that, too, must do her good."
My wife was careful to caution Richard against teaching her any generalities, as they could be of no use to her.
Martella was not gentle in her disposition. She was severe towards herself as well as towards others. She had no compassion for the sufferings of others. Her idea was that every one should help himself as best he could.
She had never cared or toiled for another being. Like the stag in the forest, she lived for herself alone. My wife nodded silent approval when Richard observed, "In a state of nature, all is egotism; gentleness, industry, and the disposition to assist others are results of culture."
On the very day on which Richard had to leave us, the Major arrived at our house. He was on a tour of inspection, and had been examining the horses which the law required the farmers to hold ready for government uses.
Our village was not included in his district, and he had gone out of his way to pay us this visit. He was in full uniform. His athletic, hardy figure presented quite a stately appearance, and his honest, cheerful manner was quite refreshing.
He was glad to be able to inform us that the ill-will of his superior officers, in which even the minister of war had participated, had not injured him with the Prince. Although there had been three competitors for the position, the Prince had selected him, and had personally informed him of his promotion with the words, "I have great respect for your father-in-law, and believe that he is a true friend of the state."
The Major was not wanting in respect and affection for me, and his behavior to my wife was marked by a knightly grace, and filial veneration. When Richard told him how Martella had in himself seen her own betrothed with ten years added to his real age, he replied: "I have never said so, but it has often occurred to me that, when she is older, Bertha will be the very picture of her mother as we now see her."
Richard was an excellent go-between for Martella and the Major, who had brought a necklace of red beads which Bertha had sent to the new sister-in-law.
Although Martella's face became flushed with emotion, she did not utter one word of thanks. She pressed the beads to her lips, and then stepped to the mirror and fastened the necklace on. Then she turned towards us, while she counted us off on her fingers and said, "I am a sister-in-law. Now I know everything, and have everything. I have a pastor, a professor, a major, a forester, a great farmer, and-what else is there? Ah, yes, now I know-a builder."
"Yes, we have one; but he is in America."
"I will have nothing to do with America," said Martella.
The Major ventured the remark that Ernst had acted unwisely in leaving the service; he seemed made for a soldier, and the best thing he could do would be to return to the army. But in that case he would have, for a while at least, to postpone all thoughts of marrying.
"He need not hurry on my account," interrupted Martella; "I am sure I shall put nothing in his way. I, too, shall need some time to make myself fit. I shall have to put many a thing in here," pointing to her forehead, "before I shall deserve to be a member of this family. Now I have the necklace that my sister-in-law sent me, around my neck, and do not mind being tied, and-Good-night!"
She reached out her hand to my wife, and then to each one of us. After which she again grasped my wife's hand, and then retired.
Richard explained Martella's peculiar characteristics to the Major. Both in thought and in action she was a strange compound of gentleness and rudeness.
The Major asked whether we knew anything about her parents. Richard replied that she had imparted facts to him that bore on the subject, but that they were as yet disconnected and unsatisfactory, and that he had given her his word of honor that he would reveal naught, until she herself thought that the proper time had come.
We kept up our cheerful conversation for some time longer. Suddenly it occurred to the Major to observe that the dispute between Prussia and Austria was taking a dangerous shape, and that, according to his views, Prussia was in the right. The military system of the confederation could not last long in its present condition.
Thus we were brought face to face with serious questions.
Of what import was the transformation of a child of the forest, when such weighty matters were on the carpet.
But while the clouds pass by over our heads, and the seasons depart, the little plant quietly and steadily keeps on growing.
CHAPTER X
In the winter of 1865 I left home to attend a session of the Parliament.
My neighbor Funk, who was also a delegate, accompanied me.
It grieves me to be obliged to describe this man or even to mention him.
He caused me much sorrow. He humiliated me more than any other man has ever done, for he proved to me that I have neither worldly wisdom nor knowledge of men. How could I have so egregiously deceived myself in him? I am too hasty in determining as to the character of a man, and when I afterwards find that his actions are not in keeping with my conception of what they should be, the inconsistency torments me as if it were an unsolved enigma. In one word, I have suffered much because of a lack of reserve. Unfortunately I must give all or nothing. Even now I cannot help thinking that he must be better, after all, than he seems. I find, on comparing myself with him, that he has many an advantage over me. He is twenty years younger than I am, and yet he seems as if he had matured long ago. I shall never be that way, no matter how long I live. I am always growing.
He had failed in the examination for a degree, and, disappointed and vexed, had entered the teachers' seminary. He afterward actually became a schoolmaster, but never forgot that he had once aspired to enter a higher sphere of life.
When the revolution broke out he had hoped to find his reckoning in it. He speedily found himself in a high position, and had no trouble in accustoming himself to the princely palace in which the provisional government had located itself.
I have already mentioned that I had brought Funk home from Strasburg with me. I felt so firmly convinced of his innocence that I used all my influence in his behalf, and even deposited a considerable sum as his bondsman, in order that he might be tried without having to surrender his liberty. He was pronounced innocent.
He made me shudder one day when he told me that the judges had evidently imbibed my belief in his innocence.
Funk was a handsome man, and still retains his good looks. Annette, the friend of my daughter Bertha, called him a perfect type of lackey beauty. She was sure, she said, that he was born to wear a livery. There was something so abject and cringing about him. She was not a little proud of her discernment, when, some time after, I confirmed her judgment by the announcement that Funk was actually a son of the Duke's valet.
Funk did not resume his former position as a teacher. He became an emigration agent. For during the first years of the reaction there was a great increase in the number of emigrants from this country to America.
Besides this, he had also become an agent for Insurances of all sorts Fire, Life, Hail, and Cattle. His window-shutters were so covered with signs that they presented quite a gay appearance.
He was chosen as one of the town-council, but the government did not confirm him in office, which action of theirs gained him much credit with the people. Two years after that, when he was elected burgomaster, he knew how to bring it about that a deputation should wait upon the Prince in person to urge his confirmation.
Funk induced his wife always to wear the old-time costumes of the country people.
"That, you must know," he said to me one day, "awakens the confidence of the country people." When I reproved him for this trick, he laughed and showed his pretty teeth. There was, to me at least, always something insincere and repulsive in his laugh, and in the fact that he never wearied of repeating certain high-sounding phrases. But what was there to draw me towards this man? I will honestly admit that I have a certain admiration for combativeness, courage, and shrewdness-qualities in which I am deficient.
My unsuspecting confidence in others is a mistake. But I have been thus for seventy years, and when I reckon up results, I find that I am none the worse for it. Although over-confidence in others has brought me many a sorrow, it has also given me many a joy.
I have suffered much through others, and through Funk especially; but I still believe that there are no thoroughly bad men, but that there are thoroughly egotistical ones, and that the pushing of egotism beyond its due bounds is the source of all evil.
If I had not helped him with all my influence, Funk would not have been chosen a delegate to the Parliament. When he visited me, on the day following the election, he addressed me in a tone of unwonted and unlooked-for familiarity, much to the disgust of my wife.
After he had left she said to me, "I cannot understand you. I did not interfere when I saw that you were trying to gain votes for Funk; that, I presume, is a part of politics, and perhaps the party needs voters, and just such bold and irreverent people. They can say things that a man of honor would not permit himself to utter. But I cannot conceive how you can allow yourself to be on so familiar a footing with that man."
I assured her that the first advances had been made by him, and that although they were undesired by me I did not choose to appear proud.
She said no more. But there was yet another reproof in store for me.
When I entered the stable Rothfuss said to me, "Why did you let that grinning fellow get so near to you? Is he still calling out, 'God be with thee, Waldfried! You will come to see me soon, will you not?' Such talk from that quarter is no compliment."
I did not suffer him to go on with his remarks. My weak fear of hurting the feelings of others had already worked its own punishment on myself.
When I left home for the session of 1865, Funk was waiting for me down by the saw-mill. I found him with a young man, the son of a schoolmaster who lived in the neighborhood. He took leave of his companion, and turning to me exclaimed with a triumphant air, "I have already saved one poor creature to-day. The simple-minded fellow wanted to become a teacher. A mere teacher in a public school! A position which is ideally elevated, but financially quite low. I convinced him that he would be happier breaking stone on the road. We ought to make it impossible for the Government to get teachers for its public schools."
When I answered that he was wantonly trifling with the education of our people, he replied, "From your point of view, perhaps you are quite right." It was in this way that I first got the idea that Funk thought he was controlling me. His subordination was a mere sham, and we were really at heart opposed to each other.
He voted as I did in the Parliament, but not for the same reasons.
If Funk had been insincere towards me, it was now my turn-and that was the worst of it-to be insincere towards him.
I was determined to break off my relations with him, and only awaited a favorable opportunity for so doing. And yet while awaiting that opportunity I kept up my usual relations with him.
It is x indeed sad, that intercourse with those who are insincere begets insincerity in ourselves.
We reached the railway station, where we found numerous delegates, and indeed two of our own party, who were cordially disliked by Funk. One of them was a manufacturer who lived near the borders of Switzerland. He was a strict devotee, but was really sincere in his religious professions, which he illustrated by his pure and unselfish conduct. We were on the friendliest footing, although he could not avoid from time to time expressing a regret that I did not occupy the same religious stand-point that he did.
The other delegate was a proud and haughty country magistrate-a man of large possessions, who imagined it was his especial prerogative to lead in matters affecting the welfare of the state. He had been opposed to Funk during the election, and had ill-naturedly said, "Beggars should have nothing to say." Funk had not forgotten this, but nevertheless forced him, as it were, into a display of civility.
The two companions were quite reserved in their manner towards Funk, and before we had accomplished our journey I could not help observing that there was a pressure which would induce a clashing and a subsequent separation of these discordant elements.
CHAPTER XI
During the winter session of the Parliament I did not reside with my daughter Bertha.
At a future day it will be difficult to realize what a separation there then was between the different classes of our people.
There was a feeling of restraint and ill-will between those who wore the dress of the citizen and that of the soldier. The Prince was, above all things, a soldier, and when in public always appeared in uniform.
We delegates, who could not approve of all that the Government required of us, were regarded as the sworn enemies of the state, both by court circles and by the army, to whom we were nevertheless obliged to grant supplies.
An officer who would suffer himself to be seen walking in the street with a citizen who was suspected of harboring liberal opinions, or with one of the delegates of our party, might rely upon being reported at head-quarters.
Although he did not say anything about it, my son-in-law was much grieved by this condition of affairs. Whenever I visited him he treated me with respect and affection, as if he thus meant to thank me for the reserve I had maintained when we met in public, and desired to apologize for the rigid discipline he was obliged to observe.
We had a long session, full of fury and bitterness on the part of the ministers and officers of the Government, and of the depressing consciousness of wasted effort on ours. The morning began with public debate; after that came committee-meetings, and in the evenings our party caucuses, which sometimes lasted quite late. And all of these sacrifices of strength were made with the discouraging prospect that the fate of our Fatherland still hung in doubt, that our labors would prove fruitless, and that our vain protest against the demands of our rulers would be all that we could contribute to history.
The air seemed thick as if with a coming storm. We felt that our party was on the eve of breaking up into opposing fragments. There was no longer the same confidence among its members, and here and there one could hear it said: "Yes, indeed, you are honest enough, and have no ambitious or selfish views to subserve."
Funk was one of the most zealous of all in the attempt to break up the party.
For a while he had undoubtedly aspired to the leadership. But when it was confided to a gifted man who had availed himself of the declaration of amnesty and had returned to his Fatherland some years before, Funk acted as if he had never thought of the position.
Who can recall all of the changes in the weather that help to ripen the crop!
A spirit of fellowship is praised both in war and in voyages of adventure. The life of a delegate, it seems to me, combines the peculiar features of both of those conditions. It is no trifling matter to leave a pleasant home and to bid adieu to wife and children, and to stand shoulder to shoulder, laboring faithfully day and night for the common weal.
I have had the good fortune to gain the friendship of man. It differs somewhat from the love of woman, but is none the less blessed.
I was not only a delegate from our district but also a member of the German Parliament. I was in accord with the best men of my country, and we were true to one another at our posts. May those who in a happier period replace us act as faithfully and unselfishly as we did!
During the winter session my wife's letters were a source of great enjoyment to me. She kept me fully informed of all that happened at home, and especially in regard to Martella.
On the morning that I left home she came to my wife and said, "Mother-I may call you so, may I not? – and I shall try to be worthy of it; and when master returns, I shall call him father."
She pointed to her feet. My wife did not know what she meant by that, until she at last said, "Rothfuss said that if I were to lay aside my red stockings, I would be making a good beginning."
And after this she began again: "I shall learn all that you tell me, but not from the schoolmaster's assistant. When he was alone with me the other day, he stroked my cheeks and I slapped him for his impertinence. I shall gladly learn all that you wish me to learn."
She remained with my wife, and appeared quite pliant and docile. My wife had her sleep in her own bedchamber, and on the first night she exclaimed, with a voice full of emotion, "I have a mother at last? O Ernst, you ought to know where I am! How happy you have been to have had a mother all your life!"
I took these letters to my daughter Bertha, who thoroughly appreciated and loved Martella. She said that her own experience had been somewhat similar; for her marriage had introduced her to an aristocratic and military circle, in which she was at first considered as an interloper, and where it took some time before she could acquire the position due her. For even to this day the aristocracy retain the advantage that those who are well born can enter good society, even though they be utterly devoid of culture.
Annette, who had also married an officer, had become quite attached to her, and the result of their combined efforts was that they at last achieved quite a distinguished position. Annette, who was a Jewess by birth, and very wealthy, had at first attempted to conquer her way into society by dress and show. Yielding, however, to the counsels of Bertha, she took the better course; and by adopting a simple and dignified manner, free from any craving for admiration, the recognition she merited was accorded her.
This friend of Bertha was, I confess, not at all to my liking. She had received a good education, and even had a cultivated judgment; but she was fain to mistake these gifts for genius, and imagined herself a thoroughly superior woman-a piece of self-deception in which flatterers encouraged her.
Her husband regarded her as a woman of superior gifts, and succeeded in this way in consoling himself for the inconvenient fact of her being of Jewish descent. His faith in her genius seemed to increase rather than diminish, and it was his constant delight to sound its praises to others.
Annette treated me with exceptional admiration, but she always seemed desirous of making a parade of her appreciation of me, or in other words, having it minister to her own glory. Mere possession or undemonstrative emotion afforded her no pleasure. Her talents and her reflections afforded her great enjoyment, and it was her constant desire that others should have the benefit of it. She was always inviting you to dine with her; and if you accepted her invitations, she was never satisfied until you had praised the dishes which she could so skilfully prepare. She sang with a powerful voice and drew very cleverly, but wanted the world to know it, and to pay her homage accordingly.
She always addressed me as "patriarch," until I at last forbade her doing so. I was, however, obliged to submit to some of the other elegant phrases in which she was wont to indulge. She had no children, and often spent the whole day in the private gallery of the House of Parliament, where she would not cease nodding to me until I at last returned her salute.
One evening there was a party at Bertha's. The wife of the Intendant-in-chief was among the guests. She was a beautiful creature, slender and undulating in form, of majestic carriage, and yet withal simple and unaffected. She had a charming voice, and sang many pretty songs for us. She was so obliging too, that, yielding to the repeated requests of her delighted auditors, she sang song after song.
I had known her as a young girl. She was the daughter of the chief forester, and seemed to retain the woodland freshness of her childhood days. But she had always been ambitious, and had thirsted for the pleasures of city life, with which she had become acquainted while going to the school which was patronized by the reigning Princess.
At one of the public examinations she had sung so delightfully that the Princess had praised her performance; and I believe that her desire for a brilliant life dated from that incident.
She was fond of dress and show, and had married the Intendant, who was a dried-up, conceited fellow.
Her marriage had not been a happy one; and now she sang love-songs full of glowing passion, of sobs and tears.
I was thinking of this, and asking myself how it could be possible, when Annette sat down by my side and softly whispered to me:
"Do explain, if you can, how this woman, after singing such songs, can leave the company and ride home with her disagreeable husband? I could not sing a note if I had such a husband."
Annette cannot conceive of her ever having been in love. All her singing of the pleasures and the pains of love is nothing more than poetical or musical affectation. "But how did she thus learn to simulate emotion. If she really felt all this she would either die or become crazed on her way home."
From that moment I began to like Annette. She had gone much further than I had dared even in my thoughts, and proved, at the same time, that her heart was true, and that she could not separate her feeling for art from the rest of her life.
Bertha showed my wife's letters to her friend, who conceived the most enthusiastic affection for Martella. She often inquired whether there was anything she could do for the charcoal-burner's daughter.
There was danger of offending her by refusing her gifts. Even a virtue may at times assume a repulsive form. Annette's complaint-I cannot express it otherwise-was a passion for helping others.
My wife wrote that Martella was like a fresh bubbling spring, which only needed to be kept within bounds to become a refreshing brook; but that this must be carefully done, for inconsiderate attempts to deepen the channel or divert its course might ruin the spring itself.
My wife also informed us that Ernst had been home to pay a short visit. He seemed quite pensive, and expressed his dissatisfaction with the fact that Martella was looking so pale. He approved of the education which she was receiving, but thought that her freshness and strength should not be sacrificed. He said he had formed a plan to live with Rautenkron, with whom he intended to practice, and also said that when once in the quiet forest he would study industriously.
My wife strenuously objected to this course. She maintained that where there was a will, one could attend to his duty in any position; and moreover, that at the present time it was not well for Ernst and Martella to see each other so often.
Martella was of the same opinion; and my wife could hardly find words to express her delight that Martella was constantly acquiring gentleness and consideration for others. Although at first she had been loud and noisy, there was now something graceful and soothing in her manner. She would arise early in the morning and dress herself in silence, while my wife would feign sleep in order that Martella might become confirmed in her gentle manners.