Waldfried Part 66

I was astounded to find the man so placid. But, as if guessing my thoughts, he said he had no more strength for complaints and tears, and that a fact must at last be accepted.

I thought of the handsome, spirited lad, that had one time come to me with Wolfgang. But I greatly desired to find a favorable opportunity for addressing the Jewish inhabitants of the village. They had an especial fear of the Germans, and were proud of French equality.

The advocate's son was buried with all the ceremonies of his church.

Two slightly wounded South German officers, who were lying in the village, acted as the escort. They recognized in me the Colonel's father-in-law, and had much to tell me in his praise.

"He shows that we are not inferior to the Prussians." Such appeared to be the highest compliment they could bestow upon him.

Upon our return from the cemetery, to which the Jews here in Alsace give the peculiar name of the "good place,"[6] the advocate leaned upon my arm, and, as I sat next to him in the little room, after quietly meditating for a long while, he exclaimed, "In my youth I had willingly died for the true Fatherland; now, my son has been permitted to die for it."

For years had I been in constant intercourse with this man; now, in his grief and in the hour of civil commotion, I first learned to know him; and to learn to know an upright man is to learn to love him.

I have, like suffering Odysseus, partic.i.p.ated in the experiences of many men; Rautenkron, the Colonel, and Arven have revealed to me their life-secrets. Now I was to hear still another's: the history of a step-child in his step-fatherland, who still longed for affection, for the closest friends.h.i.+p, and who, though repulsed and oppressed by the laws and his fellow-men, had not yet lost his love for them.

As Offenheimer recounted the grievances he had suffered in the schools, and the incivilities and insults of later years, it seemed to me that I should ask his forgiveness for all this suffering and uncharitableness, of which, because of what we had done to him, and of what our ancestors had done to his, we were to-day guilty. Those who style themselves believers in the religion of love, would be much astonished at the strength of this man's affections, who, though repulsed and scorned; still preserved them pure. We live a whole human life and know nothing of the inward emotions of many of our contemporaries. Offenheimer spoke with great severity concerning the attempt to obtain recognition by means of extravagant display, that caused many Jews to appear unpatriotic and presumptuous. He explained this, indeed, as arising from the necessity, imposed by the prejudice against his race, of proving its claim to respectability, and was frank enough to refer to the early conduct of his sister as an example.

Offenheimer then told me how happy it had made him to find his son growing up in comparative ignorance of such persecutions--he had thus developed naturally. He smiled sadly, as he added that he, though he had grown physically larger and more active, had acquired a lightness of heart which the man who is obliged to win his freedom before enjoying it, never acquires.

"I do not mourn for my son," were his words: "he had reached the most beautiful period of life, and it is all the same, whether a man lives seventeen years or seventy. No man liveth to himself, and no one dieth to himself, says the apostle; and that is true. I understand it to be true in another sense as well. Each of us dies only to his connections and his posterity."

It was a novelty to me to hear Holy Writ referred to as simply the teachings of wisdom. I have since then often found educated Israelites are not so much Jews, as simply not Christians.

Offenheimer thanked me with great tenderness for the wonders that we had accomplished with Annette. She had been proud and selfish; now she had become humble, and lived for others.

As I sat with him, the Rabbi of the place came and expressed his thanks for the generous subscription that had been made in memory of the fallen.

One word, which the priest then uttered, went straight to my heart. He said the bereaved father would find consolation; for the Talmud declared that the patriarch Jacob could not suppress his sufferings and his tears for his lost son Joseph, because he felt within himself that his son still lived. Grief for one who is dead vanishes when the corpse becomes clay; for a living lost one, the grief endures.

Oh! my lost son Ernst!

Upon my return home, I found, awaiting me in the village, a man in a blue blouse, with a short pipe in his mouth, and wearing his cap awry.

He approached me with a military salute, and said, "Yes, it is you."

"Who am I?"

"His father."

"Whose father?"

"Our sergeant's, Ernst Tannling."

"That is not my name."

"Of course! But he has confided to me--he took me, indeed, for a German--that his name was Waldfried. Do you remember that I met you in Paris during the World's Exposition. Your son deserted in 1866, and has a bride. Have I the correct signs now?"

Alas! he had them, and again I heard that Ernst had entered the service in Algiers, and now, probably, was in the onward movement against Germany.

The veteran allowed me no time for reflection. He confided to me, with great urgency and secrecy, that he could be of great service. He knew that I had great influence, and wanted me to conduct him to some officer of high rank; he could be of great service, but must receive liberal pay.

I had learned much in life, but for the first time there stood before me a man who offered me his services as a spy. He had seized my hand, and it seemed as if his touch had soiled it.

I sought further intelligence from him concerning Ernst, but he knew nothing more. I took him with me and handed him over to an officer that lay here. I considered it to be my duty not to discard the dirty, but perhaps useful, tool.

With thoughts of Ernst in my breast, with the consciousness that my only son was in arms against the Fatherland, I was not in the mood to unburden my heart to others; and besides, it was evidently too early.

Now, since force yet speaks, the good-will of the oppressed cannot be won.

I turned back to my sister's, and was much delighted to meet Hartriegel, the so-called forest professor, who had been sent by the administration to inspect the forests.

CHAPTER X.

With Hartriegel and my brother-in-law, who had again in a measure regained his composure, I roamed through the great forest district; and this refreshed my soul, though the terrible thoughts about Ernst accompanied me by day and by night like a restless ghost.

It was the night of the twenty-sixth of October. Hartriegel remained in the town. I had stayed with my sister; a storm was raging that seemed to portend the destruction of the world. Dogs howled, the cattle in the stalls bellowed unceasingly; there seemed a fearful wailing in the rattling of the thunder, and the turmoil and uproar of the elements. We heard sounds like the splitting of trees, continually nearer and nearer. We all sat together in the room, keeping watch, and my brother-in-law exclaimed, "It is just so! The trees even will clear out forthwith. They will not be German."

As he said this, a tree behind the house cracked and fell over on the roof: the slates rattled, the timbers bent, and the storm now raged through the house, which we could not forsake; for out of doors the tempest raged so wildly, that it seemed as if everything that stood upright would be stricken to the ground. We waited until daylight, and at early morning a messenger arrived who came to tell me that Julius must depart, and to ask whether I would not bring Martha home with me.

The messenger also showed us an "extra," that announced the capture of Metz, and the capitulation of 173,000 men.

When my brother-in-law heard this, he exclaimed, "We are betrayed!"

tore down the epaulettes, and the portrait of Bazaine, under whom he had served, from the wall, threw them on the floor, and trampled them under his feet.

The messenger told us the roads were impa.s.sable; every where there lay trunks of trees, and near the house a slain stag. He, a very credulous man, had spent the night at the Oak of Saint Arbogast, and with pious fervor praised the saint who had protected him.

After he had partaken of refreshments, he escorted my brother-in-law, who soon came back with the dead stag.

We were separated from the world, and my sister rejoiced that she still had something for us to eat.

At noon there came a neighboring forester with his men, and everybody was called upon, and worked through the entire night to make the roads again pa.s.sable. Soldiers were also ordered from Hagenau to a.s.sist, and soon I heard the singing of German songs in the woods.

The next morning Joseph arrived with his companion. He had been ordered by the chief forester to buy wood here, and had now decided, since it was so conveniently arranged, to purchase the greater portion of the windfall. What terrified us, awakened in him a speculation.

"In the forest of Hagenau," said he, "there's also oak wood for Ludwig's mill."

It was, and remained so; everything served as a stepping-stone to Joseph.

He gave us further particulars of the capture of Metz, and of the march towards Paris. At the name of Paris, my brother-in-law's face became flushed and excited. "That you will never get, never!" he said; "the world will go to pieces, first! But Metz, indeed! And 173,000 men!

believe in nothing after this!"

I told Joseph of Ernst; I must impart it to some one. But Joseph urgently implored me to eradicate every thought of the lost one from my breast.

I went to Strasburg, but the governor there had nothing to tell me. I was so weak that I longed for home again; there I hoped to regain my strength. I journeyed homewards with Martha.

At the last railway station I met a large force of Tyrolese woodsmen that, upon Joseph's order, had been sent to work for him in Alsace, and as I neared home, I saw, here and there, clearings in the woods. The tempest had also raged here, and the newspapers brought the intelligence that over the whole continent great devastation had been occasioned by it.