A CHILD SEEKING HIS FATHER.
Leegart was absolute mistress of Schilder-David's house, on the days
when she came in the morning to stay till night; and therefore it was
but natural that she should dismiss little Joseph at noon; for in his
presence, it was not possible to discuss the many points that were
absolutely necessary to be discussed.
The news that the Pastor intended to leave the village came first to
Leegart; and now she proved that she richly merited the name she had
earned of _The Privy Councillor_. She sent instantly for two of the
churchwardens, and dispatched them, along with Schilder-David, to the
Pastor, in order to persuade him, by their united eloquence, to give up
his intention.
A servant from the Forest Mill had gone to fetch wine from the
Roessleswirth, and sugar and all sorts of spices from the grocer. This
occurrence was, of course, very soon known in the village, and speedily
found its way to the house of Schilder-David, whom it naturally
concerned most, and to Leegart, who was there, and who always contrived
to have the earliest intelligence about everything. Every one in the
village took a pride in bringing her news, and they considered it only
their simple duty to tell her all reports, being well paid for it
beforehand.
There was now a perfect strife as to who should concoct the mulled
wine, preparing for the betrothal of Adam and the Forest Miller's Tony.
Leegart added her share of spice mentally, but very different from that
you buy at the grocer's. She kept wishing that she could drop poison
into it, and that all who drank it should die. Her only difficulty was
whether to wish most for the death of the Roettmaennin or that of the
Forest Miller, who was about to sacrifice his child in such a criminal
manner, in order to save her marriage portion.
Martina, however, was vexed that Joseph should be sent out of the house
on this particular day. Still it was quite right that he should not
hear what they were going to talk about; and though she did not join in
Leegart's denunciations, she could not help crying and lamenting. She
sent Joseph back to Haespele, but Joseph had talked enough already of
the dog he seemed doomed never to get. He went along the village, and a
woman who met him said in a compassionate tone, "Ah! poor child! this
is an evil day for you," Joseph thought so too, as he had been pushed
out of the house. Presently another, by way of cloaking the bad news
adroitly, said, "Joseph, what is your father doing? Is it long since
you saw him?" The boy perceived that something was going on in the
village, and that it concerned him; he, however, kept his promise to
his mother, and told no one that his father was to come this very day.
It never ceased snowing, and Joseph, being quite alone on the ice, kept
sliding backwards and forwards on the ground, and constantly looking at
the path where his father was likely to come. But he found himself at
last so solitary, that he went to his grandfather's. He remained
standing outside the door of the workshop, for he heard two men talking
there. He knew their voices: they were the two churchwardens Wagner and
Harzbauer. They were saying that the cook at the Parsonage had let out
that the Pastor intended to leave the village, and that she believed
Roettmann and the Forest Miller were the chief cause of this; and then
they abused Adam, saying that he well deserved his nickname of _The
Horse_, for he allowed himself to be bridled and driven about, just as
other people chose.
The men now came out, along with Schilder-David, who said, "So you are
there, Joseph? Go home, and I will soon come to you."
His grandfather did not take him by the hand, as usual, but went with
his two friends to the Parsonage. Joseph stood still. But suddenly, as
if some one had whistled to him, he turned round, and ran off through
the village into the fields, to meet his father. "He will be so glad to
see me! and he will put me before him on his horse." Away ran the boy,
jumping merrily along through the fields, and into the wood. Every now
and then he wiped off the snow from his face and breast with his hands,
and making small snowballs, he threw them at particular trees that he
fixed upon, and never failed to hit them. He went more slowly when he
was once fairly in the wood, and often looked round. Two bullfinches
were perched on a mountain ash close to the path, twittering
incessantly, but as if half asleep, and every now and then picking the
red berries; but many more than they ate, were scattered on the ground.
"You are silly, greedy fellows, and destroy more than you eat," said
Joseph, and, despising the simple creatures, went on his way. Below in
the valley a bird was singing charmingly, and with infinite tenderness:
it sounded something like the notes of a thrush. What could it be? And
the bird went on singing and flying--on and on, further and further!
Deep snow was lying where the path takes a sharp turn. At the very
first step Joseph sunk up to his knees. He was, however, quick enough
to clamber up an overhanging bank, and then to get down again into the
path beyond the snowdrift. It was lucky that this steep declivity was
planted with mountain ash, to show the way.
"Do the mountain ash berries belong to my father, too, I wonder?" said
Joseph aloud. The trees could not answer him, and there was no human
being near to give him any information. A fox appeared on the path in
the thicket, and stared at the boy. No doubt he was puzzled to make out
what such a singular apparition could be: he stood for some moments
immoveable, watching the boy, till the latter cried out, "Get along!"
And off trotted the fox, but in no hurry, and little Joseph again
exclaimed, "Yes, grandfather, it is just as you said, for now I saw it
myself,--the fox drags his tail after him on the ground, to brush away
the marks of his paws, that no one may know which way he is gone. How
clever of him!" Magpies chattered from the tops of the trees, and a
crossbill was perched on a projecting bit of rock, just above the
valley; and the boy nodded to it, and the bird nodded too: he did not
say a word, but he only opened and shut his beak, as if he wished to
say, "I am hungry." "There's something for you!" cried little Joseph,
flinging down the ravine the only bit of bread he had left. The bird,
no doubt, supposed that it was a stone thrown at him, for he flew away
timidly, and the piece of bread was buried in the snow, so no one got a
share of it.
Joseph went on quietly, resting sometimes under a tree, and sometimes
under a projecting rock, amusing himself by watching how the snow fell
in such thick showers, and yet so softly, covering everything more and
more. "My father must take me a drive in a sledge tomorrow," thought
Joseph; and, thinking of his father, he wandered further and further.
Twilight was beginning to fall, and the boy felt rather frightened, but
he still went straight on; and it was lucky for him that Schilder-David
had guarded him from all the prevalent superstitions of the country.
Still Haespele had told him that the souls of the dead danced in
churchyards at night, in the shape of lights, and often in the wood
besides; and the rider on the gallant grey, who rides through the air,
can crack his whip famously, for he has a fir tree as tall as the
church steeple for a whip. There is the stone cross at the side of the
road, where once a peasant with his cart and horse fell down the hill;
and there sits a raven on the cross. "You are nothing but a raven,"
said Joseph, throwing a snowball at the bird, who flew away with a
croak.
Joseph went on till he came to a group of wooden figures, the faces
almost covered with snow, and the figures, in summer attire, peeping
out of the hollow in which the group was placed. Joseph broke off a fir
branch, and rubbed off all the snow from the wooden faces, that seemed
to stare at him so strangely. They consisted of five men, in the
hollow, under green trees: they all wore white shirts, green breeches,
and short yellow leather gaiters. They stood in a row, each with an axe
in his hand. In front, however, of the others stood one man alone, with
uplifted axe, and beside him lay a man on the ground, bleeding and
crushed, close to a felled tree. Joseph read the inscription: it was,
"Vincent Roettmann was crushed by this tree on the 17th of August, and
died, after great suffering, on the 23rd of August. May God grant him
everlasting rest, and punish the guilty!"
Joseph shuddered. The figures kept staring at him as if he were guilty.
And what Roettmann could this be?
As a sign that he was innocent, Joseph placed the green fir branch on
the group, and went on his way, not quite easy in his mind, because the
figures stared after him so oddly.
What does he see coming, along the path? Is it a man?--he has at least
a hundred protuberances! He must be a spectre! He comes nearer and
nearer. Joseph goes up to him boldly, and says--"Good evening!" The man
with the hundred protuberances--it was the hatter with his bundles of
three-cornered hats hanging round him--tried to persuade Joseph, first
kindly and then by force, to go back with him; but he slipped through
his hands, and running on, cried loudly through the wood, "Father!
father!" and on he went. "He will soon come--he is sure to hear me."
Night now set in, and Joseph walked further and further, calling out
his father's name; and his cheeks were in such a glow that the snow
melted as it fell on his face. He knelt down and said his usual night
prayer at least thirty times over--"God, bless my father and mother!"
He always said this with peculiar piety; and again started up, thinking
that he heard something crackling and moving in the ravine. But no--all
was again still. "But where is the path?--there is now no path at all."
The boy began to cry bitterly as he ran along, stumbling first against
one tree and then against another. "Father! mother! father!--good Lord,
help me!" And God heard his cry. Three angels are coming hither with
lights: they have white garments and gold crowns on their heads, and
are singing such a strange song.
"Awake ye, awake ye,
Come hither to me;
For this is the home
Of the brave and the free."
They come nearer and nearer, and now they are close to Joseph, who
accosts them courageously, saying--"Good angels! take me with you to my
own home, and to my father and mother."
"Gracious powers!--a spirit!--the Holy Child!" cry out the three
angels, and scurry off with their torches at such a pace! but they have
wings, and can run or fly as quickly as they choose.
Joseph did not try to follow them: he stumbled and fell, but soon got
up again, when all had vanished, and he was once more alone. A little
way off he saw the glimmering of a torch. How to get near it! Joseph
had lost his cap, but he did not observe it; and, running as hard as
ever he could, he shouted, "Stay, stay! I am little Joseph!" But the
angels declined stopping, and were no longer to be seen. Their
footsteps, however, were distinct enough in the snow, and Joseph
followed the marks on, and on; and at last up a hill--Heaven be
praised!--a light at last, indeed many lights, and brightness all
round. The comforting feeling, that men are under shelter of a roof
close by, inspired fresh courage in the little wanderer; and, with
renewed strength, he ran down the hill to the lights, and reached the
Forest Mill below at the very moment when the three angels were
ascending the outside stair singing:
"Three Kaisers sang on high--the Heavenly Hosts among;
And glorious the melody, and glorious the song.
Awake ye, awake ye,
Come hither to me;
For this is the home
Of the brave and the free."
Joseph slipped quietly in behind the singers, scarcely daring to
breathe, far less to call out--above all not to call out, or the angels
would be sure to fly away again. He went with them into the room, and
the three angels sung the song of the "Three Holy Kings" to the end.
They were quietly listened to, and got plenty to eat and drink, and
presents into the bargain; and the angels ate, and drank, and spoke
their thanks very properly. Joseph soon found out that these were not
angels at all, but three boys dressed up as the Three Holy Kings. They
went away, and Joseph remained alone; and now, for the first time, he
was remarked by those present.
"Who are you?--where do you come from?--what are you doing here?" These
were the questions that quickly assailed him from the Roettmaennin, and
the miller's wife, and Tony.
"Eat something first to warm yourself; you are quite wet, and have no
cap," said Tony, kindly. "There, my boy, eat and drink, and we will
talk to you afterwards. Come, I will take off your jacket and hang it
near the stove. Don't sit so close to the stove--it is not good for
you."
"A handsome boy," said the miller's wife, while Joseph was drinking
some mulled wine.
"The angels guided me famously. This is what they drink in Heaven, I
suppose," said Joseph.
There was a strange flash in the eyes of the Roettmaennin when she heard
these words and that voice. She pushed aside the large jug, and stared
at the boy very much as the fox had done in the wood.
"Where are you from?" asked the bride.
"From Waldhausen."
"Who is your father?"
"He does not live with us."
"What's your mother's name?"
"Martina, and my grandfather is Schilder-David."
"So, I have got you at last!" cried the fierce old Roettmannin. "Good
Lord! this is Adam's son." So saying, she started up and grasped the
child with eagle's talons.
"Yes, my father's name is Adam. Do you know him?"
"Come along with me; I will take you to my room and put you to bed,"
said the Roettmannin.
"No, I won't go with you," said Joseph. "You will stew me in a kettle,
like the witches. Let me go, or I'll bite."
"Oh! I'll show you what stewing and boiling mean," cried the old woman
with a fierce laugh. "It is a blessing from Heaven direct, that the
child should have come here of his own accord. We will keep him hid,
and not give him up. Now we can force both Adam and the others to dance
to our piping."
"But I won't give you up the child," said the bride, coming forward.
"Don't be afraid, my boy--don't be afraid; come and sit in my lap. But
wait; I will first take off your shoes, and you shall put on mine, and
you will soon be quite warm. Now tell me, does your mother know that
you left home? and why did you come so far alone in such a night?"
"I went to meet my father, for they all abuse him in the village; and
they say my grandmother is the very devil, and I wanted to tell him all
this."
"I will be-devil you," cried the savage old Roettmaennin, furiously
struggling with the bride to get the child from her, who, however, used
all her strength to defend the boy; and at the moment when the women
were contending with each other, the two grandfathers came in.
"Oh! here is my grandfather," said little Joseph in ecstacy, running up
to him.
"Is that the lost grandchild?" asked Speidel-Roettmann. "Come here, my
boy. You have got another grandfather now. What a fine fellow he is! It
would have been a pity----"
"And I say, no! and no again! and a thousand times over, no, no, no!"
raged the Roettmaennin; "and I would rather let my tongue be cut out and
thrown to the dogs, than ever say yes, as long as I live."
"Quite right! Say no, if you like; but it's no use now. Is it not an
actual miracle from Heaven, that a child should be lost in such a way
and found again? In the wood yonder, all the people in the village are
running about in search of the child. We may well be proud of such a
grandson, and it is quite a privilege and an honour to have a child
belonging to us, who is such a favourite that the neighbours are
risking their lives for his sake. The good Lord has performed a
miracle, and I hope He will perform one on you also, wife. Be kind, and
give in. It is no sin to yield up your own will. Do you consent to it,
Tony?"
"So far as I am concerned, I would on no account deprive the child of
his father."
"But I say no, no! and with my last breath I will say no! and we shall
see whether you can get the better of this _no_ of mine."
During this discussion Schilder-David had remained perfectly silent: he
was holding Joseph in his arms, passing his hand over his face and his
limbs, as if to make sure that he really had him safe again. And now he
slipped out at the door along with the boy: he could not exactly tell
why: he wanted to be once more alone with Joseph at home; but when he
got outside the house he, for the first time, perceived that his knees
failed him--he was forced to sit down on the steps. Within the house he
heard a commotion, a window was opened and a pungent smell of smoke was
perceptible, for the lights on the Christmas tree were all blown out.
So sat Schilder-David. Who comes this way? Who can it be? It is
Haespele. He shouted with joy on seeing Joseph, who was, however,
shivering so much that Schilder-David was quite uneasy about him.
"Go back quickly into the wood and say that he is here, and prevent
them all running about in search of him," said David, his teeth
chattering.
Haespele hurried away, shouting out the good news. "He is found! he is
found!" cried he up the hill till he was hoarse.
A female figure now came out to David and said--
"Give me the child."
"No; I'll give him to no one here. What do you want with him?"
"I wish to carry him to my room, and to put him to bed. Come with us."
"Oh! you must be Tony, surely? Your mother was a good woman."
"And I hope I am, too. Come, quick; make haste!"
"I can't go up the steps; I find out now what I have gone through."
"Come into the stable, then; for you will be warmer there, at all
events."
Tony took the old man straight into the stable, where she prepared a
comfortable bed of dry hay, and laid the child on it, and covered him
up warmly.
Schilder-David placed his hand on the child's forehead, who soon fell
sound asleep; and his grandfather watched by him, scarcely daring to
breathe. Not till they were both quietly sleeping did Tony glide softly
out of the stable.