LOST IN THE FOREST.
In the meanwhile Schilder-David's house seemed to be no longer a small
house, belonging to a small family. Every one went in and out, and many
left the door standing open, which Schilder-David's wife invariably
gently closed without saying one word; indeed she did not even object
to the neighbours for forgetting to knock off the snow from their feet,
and the floor of the room was like a small lake; she only placed fresh
cloths on the place and wrung them out into a pail, which she emptied
at the door.
Leegart drew the footstool, on which she placed her feet, closer to
her, to prevent any of the women seated round the table having any
share of it; for Leegart was not at all accustomed to sit in a damp
room, more especially in such a thoroughfare as Schilder-David's room
was turned into on this particular day.
David's wife always kept a fierce fire in the stove--the heat was
positively stifling; but Leegart had the art of keeping a whole
audience awake, and herself into the bargain.
While all the community were rushing about in the night and in the
snow, on rocks and in ravines, and the whole village in a state of
excitement, there were only two objects that remained steady and
stationary and kept time together--these were the clock on the church
tower, and Leegart beside her huge pincushion.
Martina had left the room along with the men, but several women
remained there. They complained loudly that their husbands were so rash
as to expose their lives to danger, for the sake of one single child,
perhaps only to cause their own children to suffer want and misery.
Leegart, however, while waxing her thread, said, "Indeed it is very
dreadful to lose your way in the forest. I can well tell you about it,
for it happened to me once in my life, but I found that once quite
enough. For God's sake, never, never be tempted to take a near cut
through the wood, unless you are thoroughly acquainted with every
corner of it. A short cut is the Devil's cut. Am I right or not? It
takes a very short cut to go to the Devil. I remember it as if it were
only yesterday; and who knows whether poor Joseph may not have done the
very same thing. I went through that very forest, and the hatter met
the boy at the large beech tree, which I also passed. God forbid that
the child should have to go as far as I did, before I found my way
back! It was on the Sunday after All Saints--no, it was on a Monday; at
all events it was a holiday, St. Peters and St. Paul's. We don't keep
it holy, but the Catholics do. I left home on a fine bright day,
carrying nothing with me but a velvet cap in a handkerchief for
Holderstein's daughter, in Wenger. You know who I mean. She is now a
widow: they say she is going to marry a very young man, who lives near
Neustaedtle; for she went there two Sundays following, and he walked
back with her both times: it is not very wise in her to marry such a
boy. At the time I speak of, she was betrothed to her first husband, a
nephew of the Forest Miller--I mean of the old miller. So I set out and
went first along the valley. It was a very fine season; it is long
since we have had one like it--just the quantity of rain and sunshine
that we required. In the wood I met the beadle's children--the boy and
Maidli. The boy became a soldier, and was shot by the Freischaerfer.
Maidli lives in Elsass, where they say she is happily married. They
were herding an old and a young goat, beside the hedge where there are
so many hazel nuts. So I asked the children--I don't know why--if there
was not a nearer path to Wenger. 'Yes, indeed,' said the children. 'I
must not keep on the beaten track; but when I came to the group of
juniper trees, turn to the left through the wood.' I wanted one of the
children to show me the way, that I might be quite sure of the right
road. I can't tell the reason, but I somehow anticipated evil; but the
children were so stupid, that they would neither go alone nor together
with me. So I walked on, and when I arrived at the wood, where the
Roessleswirth has now his field--at the time it was still part of the
wood--I called out to the children below to know if I was on the right
path, and they shouted 'Yes;' at least I imagined I heard them say so.
So I went on, and it was very cool and pleasant in the forest I thought
it so fortunate that I was now in the shade of the wood, for the heat
was so great outside. It was about ten o'clock, and here it was quite a
cool fresh morning still. Such a walk is very beneficial to any one
obliged to be constantly sitting and working; and at that time I was
quite young, and I could run and jump about like a foal. I saw a
quantity of strawberries beside the hornbeam hedge; I gathered a few,
but did not stop long, and soon went forward. I climbed, and climbed I
don't know how long, and could see nothing; and the path went sometimes
up hill and sometimes down. What could be the reason? Had I got into a
labyrinth? The proverb says of those who are on a wrong path, that they
have got into a labyrinth, and indeed this was one, for it seemed to
lead nowhere. I did not know this when I entered it, but I soon found
it out, and to my cost too. Oh, nonsense! thought I, the time only
seems long to you, because you are so accustomed to sit still, that any
walk appears too much for you. I felt so tired, however, that I sat
down. Then I heard a slight rustling and something moving, and a dry
branch fell from the tree. And look, look! a squirrel, I declare. He
hangs on the trunk of the tree and peeps down at me with his quick
bright eyes and sharp muzzle. I watch him as he creeps up the tree; and
now there are two, and they frolic about and snap at each other. Whish!
quick as lightning!--now up, now down! I must say I have a particular
love for these little creatures; and I have my mother to thank for
that. She said to us a hundred times--'Children, look at all you see
attentively, for then you will be aroused wherever you go, and it costs
nothing; and you never can tell what use it may be of to you some day,
to observe closely what goes on round you.' But no one ought to allow
themselves to be detained on the way by anything, for it only tends to
perplex you still more. I went on and arrived at a fir-plantation: the
trees are so thick that it is quite dark there, but charmingly cool.
There is something lying on the ground--it is a stag asleep. I gave a
scream of terror, and the animal started up and fixed his great eyes on
me, as if to say--'You stupid thing, why do you come and disturb my
noonday's sleep?'
"I ran away as fast as I could; I fancied the stag was following me,
and then I fancied what I should do if he took me on his horns, and
threw me down the hill; and if a branch fell from a tree, I was so
terrified that I shook in every limb. God be praised! at last the wood
came to an end, and so many hundred butterflies I never saw in all my
life as there, and the meadow was quite red with flowers. I stood still
to enjoy the sight. A falcon was soaring high in the sky, screeching,
and I watched the bird as it flew along. A pretty sight, I must say; he
looked as if he were only swimming in the air--but now away! I must not
stop again; and surely it is all right at last, for I saw a small
footpath. Now, thought I, you are safe--now you can go on boldly, for
this must lead to where men are. I saw a bone button lying on the path,
I picked it up, and put it into my pocket; and it was lucky I did so,
for I had quite forgotten that I had still a piece of bread there. I
thought I never tasted anything better--no, not even at a wedding
feast. In an intricate wood like this, it seems as if you could no
longer imagine that men ever sow grain, and reap, and thresh, and
grind, and bake. The path was so narrow, that I was obliged to thrust
aside the branches before I could get through. And now I saw that the
path went straight down, as steep as the side of a house. Good heavens!
what if some wicked man were to come at this moment, and rob me, and
throw me down yonder; no one would ever find me again. No, no! was I
resolved to say to him; here, here is all I have; here is my silver
thimble, and fifteen kreuzers. You have it all now, so let me go, and I
will swear an oath never to betray you. Should I be forced to keep such
an oath? I think, for the sake of other people, I ought to tell what
has happened, that others may not be robbed as I have been. In my
terror I began to sing, but search in my head as I would, I could think
of no pious song except 'The grave is deep and still,' and that was
really too dismal. I therefore sang all sorts of gay, frolicsome songs,
although my heart was beating with fear. Thank Heaven! at last I got to
the top, and then a spacious, pretty level meadow lay before me; but by
this time I was much heated, so overheated that I did not know what to
do. My cheeks were burning, and if I had been dragged through water I
could not have been worse. I could not venture to sit down to rest, and
I could scarcely recover my breath sufficiently to proceed; and in the
meadow I heard the humming and buzzing of thousands and thousands of
bees. Gracious powers! suppose I were to put my foot on a bee's nest,
and they were all to fly out and settle on me, and I to become dizzy.
My mother told me how that is--you become quite dizzy, and the only
thing that can save you is to jump into the water; and there is no
water here. I wish there was some water, for I am frightfully thirsty.
What is the meaning of this? Does the path end here? And there is a
precipice; and there are the great wild rocks. Am I actually on the
rocks of the Rockenthal, where since the creation of the world no human
foot has ever trod? Here lie the forest trees decaying, and no man can
fetch them away. The birds alone know how things look up there. No,
surely I cannot have got so far as that, and yet my way home cannot lie
down in that direction. I called out--'Heavenly powers! where am I?'
And never did I hear an echo so distinct and beautiful as then, calling
out after me--'Where am I? where am I? where am I?' It sounded at least
seven times following, and just as if some one were dwelling on the
tones in the sky, loud and long; it proceeded from the rocky precipices
and the clefts like lovely music, as if something were singing the
words, but taking a longer breath than a man could do. I shouted out
the names of all those whom I loved, and all those who loved me. I
shouted, and shouted--I seemed to love all mankind. In such an
extremity as mine, all discord and strife are at an end. I called, and
called, but no one heard me--not a living soul. It is no good, I must
go on. I search about everywhere--famous! There is another path that
goes through the wood; but after pursuing it for a little way I found
that it again turned to the left. I thought, however, well! I will go
forward, and so I did; but once more I came to a wall of rock, with no
path whatever, so I crossed the meadow, and suddenly came on the edge
of a precipice going straight down into a fearful abyss. I started back
as far as I could, my head began to turn, and I felt as if the
precipice were dragging me thither to dash me over the rock. Then I
stood still, and thanked God that I was still on solid ground. A
yellowhammer sat on a tree above my head, singing so prettily, and when
I looked up at him he flew away to the opposite hill--yellowhammers
when they fly, raise their backs like a cat, and fly higher than the
spot on which they wish to alight, and then let themselves gently down.
A bird like that is very well off; he does not care either for hill or
valley. Oh! if I could only fly like him! I turned to the right. God be
thanked! I could see fields beyond the hills, and the valley looked
like a tray, or a flat pan. But, good heavens! am I on the famed Todten
Hof? I saw a lilac bush, and that is a proof that men either are, or
were here. Yes! the lilac in the ground, and the swallow in the air,
show that the dwellings of man are not far away. But no house is to be
seen, and all around there is a mysterious dim light, like that on the
day of the great eclipse; it is not day, and yet it is not night, and
the trees and hills seem trembling with fear. Alas, alas! I am actually
in the Todten Hof. Hundreds and hundreds of years ago a rich farmer
lived here, so rich and so godless that he and his wife and children
bathed every day in milk, and never gave a single drop to the
poor--they were even more wicked than the Roettmaennin. But in those days
our Lord thought fit to punish their sin, and one Sunday, when they
were playing at football in the meadow with cheeses, the earth suddenly
opened, and swallowed up the whole farm, men, and cattle. There is a
particular time, however, when they all wake up again, and show
themselves for, one single hour. It is not right to tell children such
histories, it only makes them superstitious. I am not at all
superstitious, besides it was still daylight; but there was no sun to
be seen in the sky, nothing but black clouds, and my hair really stood
on end. What terrified me most, was not the dread of the dead men
waking up again, but the dogs starting up out of the ground, and
beginning suddenly to bark--that would be very horrible. 'There's not a
word of truth in it,' I exclaimed, in a loud voice, far into the
valley, and this rather revived my courage. I thought, however, that my
best plan was to retrace my steps, and not to attempt to go to Wenger
that day; still going back was such a long journey, and I knew my way
back just as little as my way forward. I would have been quite ashamed
to show my face, if I had been obliged to go back, and say that I had
lost my way. I said to myself--'No, on I must go. If I do not reach
Wenger, at least I am sure to arrive at a house. Don't give way to
superstition, and it is still daylight, and tonight there is a full
moon; then you can go home when you have rested for a time, or you may
remain at Wenger. No one is expecting you.' Unluckily I live quite
alone; and it was a sad thought to me at that moment, that I was so
solitary and uncared-for. No one would inquire for me, or weep for me,
if I were lost I must say I could scarcely help crying; but no! said I
to myself, there are people who feel an interest in me, and how
frightened they will be, and yet how pleased, when I can relate to them
my adventures. Surely they will soon end now. I have quite enough to
tell them already, indeed more than enough; and tired, terribly tired I
was. Suddenly I heard a boy _jodeln_, on the hill above. In my fright I
never thought of _jodeln_, but I can _jodeln_, and right well too. In
my youth I could utter this peculiar cry louder than anyone. I could be
heard two miles off."
Leegart laid her hand on her cheek, and uttered a shrill, sharp cry,
rising like the sharp point of a mountain, and descending again into
the valley in scattered fragments. She could uplift her voice in the
most marvellous way for her years.
David's wife, who had not hitherto heard one word of the whole story,
started up from the bench beside the stove, and asked--"For Heaven's
sake! what is the matter?" The women present, and Leegart, had great
difficulty in pacifying her, and explaining why Leegart had uttered so
loud a cry. The old woman again sunk down on the bench, muttering--"I
am well rested now. I wish I could lend poor Martina my feet."
The women entreated Leegart to continue her story. She waxed her thread
afresh, and sewed the collar on over and over to the jacket, which had
in fact been finished for some time past; but she was resolved not to
leave off sewing, for nothing is more sure and certain, than that no
mortal man or child can die so long as any one is sewing for their
benefit. Moreover, Leegart's story kept them all awake, and they did
not wish to sleep till their husbands returned home, when they intended
all to go together to the midnight service in church.
After Leegart had quietly blown her nose, she resumed--"So I began to
_jodeln_, and the boy answered me, as if we were doing it for pleasure.
I called out--'Which is the right road?' but his only answer was to
_jodeln_ again. 'Go to the deuce with your _jodeln_,' said I. I felt
afraid when I had said this, but I cannot deny that I did say it. Come,
I see a fresh path leading through the wood. I truly hope and trust it
is not a labyrinth this time; it is wet enough, but among these thick
trees it probably is never dry all the year round. Here is a clear
spring. If I could only be able to drink some water; but all I contrive
to get is wet feet. I followed the path into the wood, and soon it was
as soft as a bed underfoot, and the moss so deep, that since the
beginning of the world I felt sure no single handful of it had ever
been plucked; indeed, who was likely to mount up here to get it? The
path is no longer wet, and down the hill it seems dry enough; but all
trace of a path has disappeared. In a fir wood you cannot see the
traces of footsteps, and my shoes were as slippery as if they had been
polished. Then I caught on a prickly thorn, and tore my feet till they
bled. No matter. God be thanked! here I saw a piece of brick lying on
the ground. I lifted it up, and found it really was a brick. So far
well, for it was a proof that human beings must have been here; bricks
don't grow of their own accord. The finest diamond could not have been
more welcome to me than this brick. I went on my way quite
tranquillized, and I did not even start on seeing an adder lying coiled
up in the sun; I threw my brick at him, and he slipped away in a hurry.
Oh! what a lot of strawberries here!--no one gathers them; for no one
is likely to be here who has not lost their way, and as for me, stupid,
silly creature, I dare not venture to pluck some to quench my thirst,
because I have an idea that the adder has poisoned all the
strawberries. Good! I saw a dry channel on the face of the bank where
the trees, when felled, are slid down to the valley beneath. It surely
must go down to the river, and I suddenly thought I heard the rushing
of a stream; no doubt it is our river, but perhaps it may only be the
tops of the trees rustling in the wind. When you have lost your way
your hearing is not acute.
"Be it what it may, I resolved to run down the dry channel into the
valley. I lifted up my gown, still holding fast the handkerchief with
the cap in it. That packet had given me no end of trouble. When you are
forced to go perpetually up and down hill, carrying something in your
hand, even though it may not be very heavy, you feel as if one hand was
tied fast, and quite useless. Hush! I thought I heard a carriage in the
valley, so there must be a good road there; probably a one horse chaise
from Bern, or perhaps with two horses, it trots along so rapidly. Soon
it turned the corner, and then I no longer heard it at all.
"Gracious goodness! I had again allowed myself to be misled: it was only
the leaves rustling in the forest that I had heard, and now the sound
was far above me. I resolved not to listen to any other sounds, but to
do my best for myself. I tried to climb up again, but the way was so
steep that I found it impossible to get any footing on the bank. The
ground, too was so hard, from the trees being shoved down it, that I
could no longer dig my heels into the ground to get a firmer footing,
and so I tore a pair of shoes that had cost me two gulden. I was not to
get half of that for making the velvet cap. What matter! if I only get
home safe, without damage to life or limb! I only fell once. No one
should trust to anything they grasp, unless they have first proved its
strength. Broom has a good hold, it stands very fast in the soil: once
I seized hold of the roots of a tree, but the roots came away in my
hand, and I slipped back a long way. I closed my eyes: now I must die,
it is all over with me! I was brought up, however, by a rock, in the
middle of a large anthill. I managed to get away from it at last. I
went close to the dry channel on the side of the hill, and kept it in
view, and jumped from tree to tree; but it could scarcely be called
jumping, it was as if I had been cast forwards; my progress was just
like sparrows flying and clapping their wings, and then tumbling topsy
turvy in the air. I felt almost inclined to laugh when this thought
struck me, but it was no laughing matter. I thought to myself, this
will be a story for you to tell all your life long; and then it
occurred to me again--if you could talk about it, you would by that
time be well out of the scrape. I plucked up courage, and hoped it
would soon be all right, and that there was no fear of dying; only I
must get on. And so by dint of first seizing one branch, and then
another, I got forward by degrees, and only slipped back once more, but
I had no more tumbles. Fragments of rock rolled down beside me, jumping
into the air, and rebounding as they went, till at last I seemed to
hear them splash into the river. And I thought to myself that if I
fell, I should fall, just like them, to the bottom and into the river.
I stuck my nails into the earth, and crept on and on, and then sideways
into the underwood, close to the dry channel, where a footing was to be
found. Slowly, slowly, I crawled along. But stop! one step further and
I must have been killed! A rock as steep and high as a house, as if cut
out with a knife, overhung the river. I stopped short, and could have
seized the tops of the larches with my hands, but there was no path. I
went back two steps, and leant on a tree, and now my mind was easier. I
saw running water. God be praised and blessed for all His mercies! this
is the valley, and to have reached the valley is to have reached home.
How pleasant was the rushing of water to my ears--so calm, so peaceful,
so homelike! even seeing and hearing it quenched my thirst. I now
accomplished the greatest feat of the whole, when, after a long round,
I at last contrived, after much scrambling, to land in the valley. And
when I actually found myself there, then, and not till then, I thought
myself safe.
"Big drops of heat were running down my cheeks. I seated myself on a
large log of wood, lying on the ground, close to the very beech tree
where the hatter met Joseph. I was so overheated that I would gladly
have got rid of some of my wraps; but there was a very cool breeze in
the valley. The sun was just sinking behind the hills, and it was not
yet noon when I left home. I saw swallows flying about. Oh! what a
pleasant sight that was to me! And then I heard a cock crow. No
nightingale's song could sound half so sweet as the crowing of a cock
to a person who has lost his way. Well! I felt that I was now in the
world again. I heard a hen cackling: wherever an egg is laid, there is
sure to be a woman near. I heard a dog barking: where a dog barks a man
is not far off. I am once more among my fellow-creatures. Presently I
heard the rushing of a mill. Where am I, then?
"So long as I was wandering about and lost, even in my anguish, I never
shed a tear; but now, when I was safe, I for the first time became
fully aware of the dangers I had undergone, and I began to cry so
dreadfully that I thought I must dissolve away, and yet I could not
stop myself. Then, luckily, I saw a woodcutter coming along. I asked
him where I was. 'Roettmannshof is close by up there,' said the man,
passing on. I called after him to ask what o'clock it was. 'Past five.'
So I had actually been running about for seven hours. I could scarcely
believe it--seven mortal hours! If I had been superstitious, I should
have certainly believed that some wood demon had purposely led me
astray, for after seven o'clock has struck their delight is to mislead
people, and there are day spirits as well as night spirits. By
following the river I was sure to reach the Forest Mill; so I set off
towards it. Scarcely, however, had I gone two hundred paces when I
discovered that I had left my small parcel lying on the trunk of the
tree; and it had caused me so much trouble, and I had taken such care
of it! Gracious me! this too! Perhaps the woodcutter stole it, and I
shall be obliged to pay for the velvet cap, instead of receiving a sum
for making it. I ran back. Men are very good and honest, especially
when they don't know the value of a thing. My parcel had slipped down
behind the tree, and there I found it. The Forest Miller's wife was an
excellent woman, and her daughter Tony takes after her. The good
creature gave me dry clothes, and took as much care of me as if I had
been her sister. But for three days I felt as if all my limbs had been
dislocated. I started for home at last.
"When any one has been lost in a wood, it is scarcely possible to
realise that they have a home of their own--a place where your bed
stands, your looking-glass, your table, your chest of drawers, your
Psalm Book. Oh! what good old friends these all seem, and how you love
them all when you come home, and would gladly thank the tables and
chairs for having stood steadily in the same place, and quietly waited
for your return. And do you know the worst part of losing your
way?--that you are so laughed at when you tell the story afterwards.
But I wish no one--not even the Roettmaennin herself--to have such a
thing happen to them.
"It was a lovely summer's day, the Sunday after All Saints--no, not
Sunday, the Monday of Peter and Paul. Oh! what must it be to wander
about in the snow at night, and such a child, too! what could it do but
lie down and die! Oh heavens! I see the child before me, fast in the
snow, or in the cleft of a rock, its hands struggling, and its feet
frozen, so that it cannot move; and crying out, 'Mother!' and
listening, and hoping that some one will come, and no one answers but
the raven on the tree. And a hare runs past him--whish!--over the snow.
It is afraid of the child, and the child looks after the hare, and
forgets his misery for the moment. 'Mother! mother!' he goes on
calling, and it is a blessing that he falls asleep at last, never to
wake again. Good heavens! what an unhappy creature I am to have such
thoughts pass through my mind; and come they will, I can't help it; but
it runs in our family, and my mother was right in saying, that she knew
more than that two and two made four. And you know what happened to the
poor child that lies buried up yonder in Wenger. He was found in the
wood on the third day, quite covered with snow, and only close to his
heart was the snow melted. All those who saw it could not help sobbing
their very hearts out; and the mother became an idiot. The Herr Pastor
wrote a beautiful epitaph on the tombstone: I knew it once by heart,
but I could not repeat it now. And what happened to the hatter, who was
carrying a bundle of newly dyed hats on New Year's Day to Knusling? He
arrived at the Schroeckenhalde, the very precipice where I was when I
lost myself, and went on through the meadow; and there was such a fog
that you could not see your hand before you. He went round and round
the village at least seven times, and could never find his way in. The
bells were ringing, but they always seemed to him to come from the
other side, and so he never got there. At last he heard geese cackling,
so he followed the cry, and soon got safe to the village. But if you
could but have seen him! he looked just as if he had been buried, and
dug up again. But one thing I forgot to tell you, which was that the
Forest Miller"--
Here Leegart was interrupted by loud cries in front of the house.