hungry and thirsty; and fashioning my answers as I best could when
questions were put to me. In this manner I had wandered on some four
days, when I came upon a little footpath, which led me farther and
farther from the highway. The rocks about me now assumed a different and
far stranger form. They were cliffs so piled on one another, that it
looked as if the first gust of wind would hurl them all this way and
that. I knew not whether to go on or stop. Till now I had slept by night
in the woods, for it was the finest season of the year, or in some
remote shepherd's hut; but here I saw no human dwelling at all, and
could not hope to find one in this wilderness; the crags grew more and
more frightful; I had many a time to glide along by the very edge of
dreadful abysses; by degrees my footpath became fainter, and at last all
traces of it vanished from beneath me. I was utterly comfortless; I wept
and screamed; and my voice came echoing back from the rocky valleys with
a sound that terrified me. The night now came on, and I sought out a
mossy nook to lie down in. I could not sleep; in the darkness I heard
the strangest noises; sometimes I took them to proceed from wild-beasts,
sometimes from wind moaning through the rocks, sometimes from unknown
birds. I prayed; and did not sleep till towards morning.
"When the light came upon my face, I awoke. Before me was a steep rock;
I clomb up, in the hope of discovering some outlet from the waste,
perhaps of seeing houses or men. But when I reached the top, there was
nothing still, so far as my eye could reach, but a wilderness of crags
and precipices; all was covered with a dim haze; the day was gray and
troubled, and no tree, no meadow, not even a bush could I find, only a
few shrubs shooting up stunted and solitary in the narrow clefts of the
rocks. I cannot utter what a longing I felt but to see one human
creature, any living mortal, even though I had been afraid of hurt from
him. At the same time I was tortured by a gnawing hunger; I sat down,
and made up my mind to die. After a while, however, the desire of living
gained the mastery; I roused myself, and wandered forward amid tears and
broken sobs all day; in the end, I hardly knew what I was doing; I was
tired and spent; I scarcely wished to live, and yet I feared to die.
"Towards night the country seemed to grow a little kindlier; my
thoughts, my desires revived, the wish for life awoke in all my veins. I
thought I heard the rushing of a mill afar off; I redoubled my steps;
and how glad, how light of heart was I, when at last I actually gained
the limits of the barren rocks, and saw woods and meadows lying before
me, with soft green hills in the distance! I felt as if I had stept out
of hell into a paradise; my loneliness and helplessness no longer
frightened me.
"Instead of the hoped-for mill, I came upon a waterfall, which, in
truth, considerably damped my joy. I was lifting a drink from it in the
hollow of my hand, when all at once I thought I heard a slight cough
some little way from me. Never in my life was I so joyfully surprised as
at this moment: I went near, and at the border of the wood I saw an old
woman sitting resting on the ground. She was dressed almost wholly in
black; a black hood covered her head, and the greater part of her face;
in her hand she held a crutch.
"I came up to her, and begged for help; she made me sit by her, and gave
me bread, and a little wine. While I ate, she sang in a screeching tone
some kind of spiritual song. When she had done, she told me I might
follow her.
"The offer charmed me, strange as the old woman's voice and look
appeared. With her crutch she limped away pretty fast, and at every step
she twisted her face so oddly, that at first I was like to laugh. The
wild rocks retired behind us more and more: I never shall forget the
aspect and the feeling of that evening. All things were as molten into
the softest golden red; the trees were standing with their tops in the
glow of the sunset; on the fields lay a mild brightness; the woods and
the leaves of the trees were standing motionless; the pure sky looked
out like an opened paradise, and the gushing of the brooks, and, from
time to time, the rustling of the trees, resounded through the serene
stillness, as in pensive joy. My young soul was here first taken with a
forethought of the world and its vicissitudes. I forgot myself and my
conductress; my spirit and my eyes were wandering among the shining
clouds.
"We now mounted an eminence planted with birch-trees; from the top we
looked into a green valley, likewise full of birches; and down below, in
the middle of them, was a little hut. A glad barking reached us, and
immediately a little nimble dog came springing round the old woman,
fawned on her, and wagged its tail; it next came to me, viewed me on all
sides, and then turned back with a friendly look to its old mistress.
"On reaching the bottom of the hill, I heard the strangest song, as if
coming from the hut, and sung by some bird. It ran thus:
Alone in wood so gay
'Tis good to stay,
Morrow like today,
Forever and aye:
O, I do love to stay
Alone in wood so gay.
"These few words were continually repeated, and to describe the sound,
it was as if you heard forest-horns and shalms sounded together from a
far distance.
"My curiosity was wonderfully on the stretch; without waiting for the
old woman's orders, I stept into the hut. It was already dusk; here all
was neatly swept and trimmed; some bowls were standing in a cupboard,
some strange-looking casks or pots on a table; in a glittering cage,
hanging by the window, was a bird, and this in fact proved to be the
singer. The old woman coughed and panted: it seemed as if she never
would get over her fatigue: she patted the little dog, she talked with
the bird, which only answered her with its accustomed song; and for me,
she did not seem to recollect that I was there at all. Looking at her
so, many qualms and fears came over me; for her face was in perpetual
motion; and, besides, her head shook from old age, so that, for my life,
I could not understand what sort of countenance she had.
"Having gathered strength again, she lit a candle, covered a very small
table, and brought out supper. She now looked round for me, and bade me
take a little cane-chair. I was thus sitting close fronting her, with
the light between us. She folded her bony hands, and prayed aloud, still
twisting her countenance, so that I was once more on the point of
laughing; but I took strict care that I might not make her angry.
"After supper she again prayed, then showed me a bed in a low narrow
closet; she herself slept in the room. I did not watch long, for I was
half stupefied; but in the night I now and then awoke, and heard the old
woman coughing, and between whiles talking with her dog and her bird,
which last seemed dreaming, and replied with only one or two words of
its rhyme. This, with the birches rustling before the window, and the
song of a distant nightingale, made such a wondrous combination, that I
never fairly thought I was awake, but only falling out of one dream into
another still stranger.
"The old woman awoke me in the morning, and soon after gave me work. I
was put to spin, which I now learned very easily; I had likewise to take
charge of the dog and the bird. I soon learned my business in the house:
I now felt as if it all must be so; I never once remembered that the old
woman had so many singularities, that her dwelling was mysterious, and
lay apart from all men, and that the bird must be a very strange
creature. Its beauty, indeed, always struck me, for its feathers
glittered with all possible colours; the fairest deep blue, and the most
burning red, alternated about his neck and body; and when singing, he
blew himself proudly out, so that his feathers looked still finer.
"My old mistress often went abroad, and did not come again till night;
on these occasions I went out to meet her with the dog, and she used to
call me child and daughter. In the end I grew to like her heartily; as
our mind, especially in childhood, will become accustomed and attached
to anything. In the evenings, she taught me to read; and this was
afterwards a source of boundless satisfaction to me in my solitude, for
she had several ancient-written books, that contained the strangest
stories.
"The recollection of the life I then led is still singular to me:
Visited by no human creature, secluded in the circle of so small a
family; for the dog and the bird made the same impression on me which in
other cases long-known friends produce. I am surprised that I have never
since been able to recall the dog's name, a very odd one, often as I
then pronounced it.
"Four years I had passed in this way (I must now have been nearly
twelve), when my old dame began to put more trust in me, and at length
told me a secret. The bird, I found, laid every day an egg, in which
there was a pearl or a jewel. I had already noticed that she often went
to fettle privately about the cage, but I had never troubled myself
farther on the subject. She now gave me charge of gathering these eggs
in her absence, and carefully storing them up in the strange-looking
pots. She would leave me food, and sometimes stay away longer, for
weeks, for months. My little wheel kept humming round, the dog barked,
the bird sang; and withal there was such a stillness in the
neighbourhood, that I do not recollect of any storm or foul weather all
the time I stayed there. No one wandered thither; no wild-beast came
near our dwelling: I was satisfied, and worked along in peace from day
to day. One would perhaps be very happy, could he pass his life so
undisturbedly to the end.
"From the little that I read, I formed quite marvellous notions of the
world and its people; all taken from myself and my society. When I read
of witty persons, I could not figure them but like the little shock;
great ladies, I conceived, were like the bird; all old women like my
mistress. I had read somewhat of love, too; and often, in fancy, I would
sport strange stories with myself. I figured out the fairest knight on
Earth; adorned him with all perfections, without knowing rightly, after
all my labour, how he looked: but I could feel a hearty pity for myself
when he ceased to love me; I would then, in thought, make long melting
speeches, or perhaps aloud, to try if I could win him back. You smile!
These young days are, in truth, far away from us all.
"I now liked better to be left alone, for I was then sole mistress of
the house. The dog loved me, and did all I wanted; the bird replied to
all my questions with his rhyme; my wheel kept briskly turning, and at
bottom I had never any wish for change. When my dame returned from her
long wanderings, she would praise my diligence; she said her house,
since I belonged to it, was managed far more perfectly; she took a
pleasure in my growth and healthy looks; in short, she treated me in all
points like her daughter.
"'Thou art a good girl, child,' said she once to me, in her creaking
tone; 'if thou continuest so, it will be well with thee: but none ever
prospers when he leaves the straight path; punishment will overtake him,
though it may be late.' I gave little heed to this remark of hers at the
time, for in all my temper and movements I was very lively; but by night
it occurred to me again, and I could not understand what she meant by
it. I considered all the words attentively; I had read of riches, and at
last it struck me that her pearls and jewels might perhaps be something
precious. Ere long this thought grew clearer to me. But the straight
path, and leaving it? What could she mean by this?
"I was now fourteen; it is the misery of man that he arrives at
understanding through the loss of innocence. I now saw well enough that
it lay with me to take the jewels and the bird in the old woman's
absence, and go forth with them and see the world which I had read of.
Perhaps, too, it would then be possible that I might meet that fairest
of all knights, who forever dwelt in my memory.
"At first this thought was nothing more than any other thought; but when
I used to be sitting at my wheel, it still returned to me, against my
will; and I sometimes followed it so far, that I already saw myself
adorned in splendid attire, with princes and knights around me. On
awakening from these dreams, I would feel a sadness when I looked up,
and found myself still in the little cottage. For the rest, if I went
through my duties, the old woman troubled herself little about what I
thought or felt.
"One day she went out again, telling me that she should be away on this
occasion longer than usual; that I must take strict charge of
everything, and not let the time hang heavy on my hands. I had a sort of
fear on taking leave of her, for I felt as if I should not see her any
more. I looked long after her, and knew not why I felt so sad; it was
almost as if my purpose had already stood before me, without myself
being conscious of it.
"Never did I tend the dog and the bird with such diligence as now; they
were nearer to my heart than formerly. The old woman had been gone some
days, when I rose one morning in the firm mind to leave the cottage, and
set out with the bird to see this world they talked so much of. I felt
pressed and hampered in my heart; I wished to stay where I was, and yet
the thought of that afflicted me; there was a strange contention in my
soul, as if between two discordant spirits. One moment my peaceful
solitude would seem to me so beautiful; the next the image of a new
world, with its many wonders, would again enchant me.
"I knew not what to make of it; the dog leaped up continually about me;
the sunshine spread abroad over the fields; the green birch-trees
glittered; I always felt as if I had something I must do in haste; so I
caught the little dog, tied him up in the room, and took the cage with
the bird under my arm. The dog writhed and whined at this unusual
treatment; he looked at me with begging eyes, but I feared to have him
with me. I also took one pot of jewels, and concealed it by me; the rest
I left.
"The bird turned its head very strangely when I crossed the threshold;
the dog tugged at his cord to follow me, but he was forced to stay.
"I did not take the road to the wild rocks, but went in the opposite
direction. The dog still whined and barked, and it touched me to the
heart to hear him; the bird tried once or twice to sing; but as I was
carrying him, the shaking put him out.
"The farther I went, the fainter grew the barking, and at last it
altogether ceased. I wept, and had almost turned back, but the longing
to see something new still hindered me.
"I had got across the hills, and through some forests, when the night
came on, and I was forced to turn aside into a village. I blushed
exceedingly on entering the inn; they showed me to a room and bed; I
slept pretty quietly, only that I dreamed of the old woman, and her
threatening me.
"My journey had not much variety; the farther I went, the more was I
afflicted by the recollection of my old mistress and the little dog; I
considered that in all likelihood the poor shock would die of hunger,
and often in the woods I thought my dame would suddenly meet me. Thus
amid tears and sobs I went along; when I stopped to rest, and put the
cage on the ground, the bird struck up his song, and brought but too
keenly to my mind the fair habitation I had left. As human nature is
forgetful, I imagined that my former journey, in my childhood, had not
been so sad and woful as the present; I wished to be as I was then.
"I had sold some jewels; and now, after wandering on for several days, I
reached a village. At the very entrance I was struck with something
strange; I felt terrified and knew not why; but I soon bethought myself,
for it was the village where I was born! How amazed was I! How the tears
ran down my cheeks for gladness, for a thousand singular remembrances!
Many things were changed: new houses had been built, some just raised
when I went away, were now fallen, and had marks of fire on them;
everything was far smaller and more confined than I had fancied. It
rejoiced my very heart that I should see my parents once more after such
an absence. I found their little cottage, the well-known threshold; the
door-latch was standing as of old; it seemed to me as if I had shut it
only yesternight. My heart beat violently, I hastily lifted that latch;
but faces I had never seen before looked up and gazed at me. I asked for
the shepherd Martin; they told me that his wife and he were dead three
years ago. I drew back quickly, and left the village weeping aloud.
"I had figured out so beautifully how I would surprise them with my
riches: by the strangest chance, what I had only dreamed in childhood
was become reality; and now it was all in vain, they could not rejoice
with me, and that which had been my first hope in life was lost forever.
"In a pleasant town I hired a small house and garden, and took to myself
a maid. The world, in truth, proved not so wonderful as I had painted
it: but I forgot the old woman and my former way of life rather more,
and, on the whole, I was contented.
"For a long while the bird had ceased to sing; I was therefore not a
little frightened, when one night he suddenly began again, and with a
different rhyme. He sang:
Alone in wood so gay,
Ah, far away!
But thou wilt say
Some other day,
'Twere best to stay
Alone in wood so gay.
"Throughout the night I could not close an eye; all things again
occurred to my remembrance; and I felt, more than ever, that I had not
acted rightly. When I rose, the aspect of the bird distressed me
greatly; he looked at me continually, and his presence did me ill. There
was now no end to his song; he sang it louder and more shrilly than he
had been wont. The more I looked at him, the more he pained and
frightened me; at last I opened the cage, put in my hand, and grasped
his neck; I squeezed my fingers hard together, he looked at me, I
slackened them; but he was dead. I buried him in the garden.
"After this, there often came a fear over me for my maid; I looked back
upon myself, and fancied she might rob me or murder me. For a long while
I had been acquainted with a young knight, whom I altogether liked: I
bestowed on him my hand; and with this, Sir Walther, ends my story."
"Ay, you should have seen her then," said Eckbert warmly; "seen her
youth, her loveliness, and what a charm her lonely way of life had given
her. I had no fortune; it was through her love these riches came to me;
we moved hither, and our marriage has at no time brought us anything but
good."
"But with our tattling," added Bertha, "it is growing very late; we must
go to sleep."
She rose, and proceeded to her chamber; Walther, with a kiss of her
hand, wished her good-night, saying: "Many thanks, noble lady; I can
well figure you beside your singing bird, and how you fed poor little
_Strohmian_."
Walther likewise went to sleep; Eckbert alone still walked in a restless
humour up and down the room. "Are not men fools?" said he at last: "I
myself occasioned this recital of my wife's history, and now such
confidence appears to me improper! Will he not abuse it? Will he not
communicate the secret to others? Will he not, for such is human nature,
cast unblessed thoughts on our jewels, and form pretexts and lay plans
to get possession of them?"
It now occurred to his mind that Walther had not taken leave of him so
cordially as might have been expected after such a mark of trust: the
soul once set upon suspicion finds in every trifle something to confirm
it. Eckbert, on the other hand, reproached himself for such ignoble
feelings to his worthy friend; yet still he could not cast them out. All
night he plagued himself with such uneasy thoughts, and got very little
sleep.
Bertha was unwell next day, and could not come to breakfast; Walther did
not seem to trouble himself much about her illness, but left her husband
also rather coolly. Eckbert could not comprehend such conduct; he went
to see his wife, and found her in a feverish state; she said her last
night's story must have agitated her.
From that day, Walther visited the castle of his friend but seldom; and
when he did appear, it was but to say a few unmeaning words and then
depart. Eckbert was exceedingly distressed by this demeanour: to Bertha
or Walther he indeed said nothing of it; but to any person his internal
disquietude was visible enough.
Bertha's sickness wore an aspect more and more serious; the Doctor grew
alarmed; the red had vanished from his patient's cheeks, and her eyes
were becoming more and more inflamed. One morning she sent for her
husband to her bedside; the nurses were ordered to withdraw.
"Dear Eckbert," she began, "I must disclose a secret to thee, which has
almost taken away my senses, which is ruining my health, unimportant
trifle as it may appear. Thou mayest remember, often as I talked of my
childhood, I could never call to mind the name of the dog that was so
long beside me: now, that night on taking leave, Walther all at once
said to me: 'I can well figure you, and how you fed poor little
_Strohmian_.' Is it chance? Did he guess the name; did he know it, and
speak it on purpose? If so, how stands this man connected with my
destiny? At times I struggle with myself, as if I but imagined this
mysterious business; but, alas! it is certain, too certain. I felt a
shudder that a stranger should help me to recall the memory of my
secrets. What sayest thou, Eckbert?"
Eckbert looked at his sick and agitated wife with deep emotion; he stood
silent and thoughtful; then spoke some words of comfort to her, and went
out. In a distant chamber, he walked to and fro in indescribable
disquiet. Walther, for many years, had been his sole companion; and now
this person was the only mortal in the world whose existence pained and
oppressed him. It seemed as if he should be gay and light of heart, were
that one thing but removed. He took his bow, to dissipate these
thoughts; and went to hunt.
It was a rough stormy winter-day; the snow was lying deep on the hills,
and bending down the branches of the trees. He roved about; the sweat
was standing on his brow; he found no game, and this embittered his
ill-humour. All at once he saw an object moving in the distance; it was
Walther gathering moss from the trunks of trees. Scarce knowing what he
did, he bent his bow; Walther looked round, and gave a threatening
gesture, but the arrow was already flying, and he sank transfixed by it.
Eckbert felt relieved and calmed, yet a certain horror drove him home to
his castle. It was a good way distant; he had wandered far into the
woods. On arriving, he found Bertha dead: before her death, she had
spoken much of Walther and the old woman.
For a great while after this occurrence, Eckbert lived in the deepest
solitude: he had all along been melancholy, for the strange history of
his wife disturbed him, and he dreaded some unlucky incident or other;
but at present he was utterly at variance with himself. The murder of
his friend arose incessantly before his mind; he lived in the anguish of
continual remorse.
To dissipate his feelings, he occasionally moved to the neighbouring
town, where he mingled in society and its amusements. He longed for a
friend to fill the void in his soul; and yet, when he remembered
Walther, he would shudder at the thought of meeting with a friend; for
he felt convinced that, with any friend, he must be unhappy. He had
lived so long with his Bertha in lovely calmness; the friendship of
Walther had cheered him through so many years; and now both of them were
suddenly swept away. As he thought of these things, there were many
moments when his life appeared to him some fabulous tale, rather than
the actual history of a living man.
A young knight, named Hugo, made advances to the silent melancholy
Eckbert, and appeared to have a true affection for him. Eckbert felt
himself exceedingly surprised; he met the knight's friendship with the
greater readiness, the less he had anticipated it. The two were now
frequently together; Hugo showed his friend all possible attentions; one
scarcely ever went to ride without the other; in all companies they got
together. In a word, they seemed inseparable.