Black Forest Village Stories Part 57

"How is it, I wonder, When sweetheart I see, I want to be talking, But yet it won't gee?

'No, no,' and 'Yes, yes,'

And 'I s'pose,' and 'In course,'

Is often the whole of our loving discourse."

"Come, wake up!" said she, shaking the teacher's arm; "stir your stumps. 'I lost my stocking at Lauterbach:'" and she danced around the room, dragging him after her.

Thaddie now came in, and general hilarity with him. In a grand council the politic resolve was taken that, if the Constantine question should be still unadjusted when harvest-home came on, the teacher was to attend Agnes at the festival, while Thaddie was to figure as the nominal escort of Hedwig.

After a long conversation in antic.i.p.ation of what the future was expected to bring forth, Agnes called upon the teacher to reward her intervention by telling a story. The others joined their requests to hers. The teacher offered to go home to get a book; but this was not permitted: he had nothing to do but begin at once.

Collecting his thoughts with an effort, he launched into the story of the Beautiful Magelona. At first he spoke almost without intonation, hardly knowing what he said, and thinking more of Hedwig's hand, which rested in his, than of the tale. As the interest of the narrative increased, he closed his eyes, and resigned his imagination entirely to the world of wonders and witchery he was describing. His hearers hung upon his words with beaming eyes, and Hedwig's heart bounded within her.

When he had finished, Agnes took his head between her hands and shook it, saying, "He is a fine fellow, every inch of him. May I kiss him now, Hedwig?"

"Yes, with all my heart."

Availing himself of the permission, the teacher immediately turned to Thaddie and said, extending his hand, "Let us be friends too."

When he took his leave, Thaddie went with him to the door and said, on the steps, "Mr. Teacher, I want to ask a favor of you, and maybe I can do you another some day. I can read very well: won't you lend me one of your storybooks?"

"With the greatest pleasure," said the teacher, shaking hands warmly at parting.

Besides the happy change in his feelings which the love of Hedwig had effected, it was attended with a further consequence; for he was one of those sensitive natures in which the thirst for union and harmony brings all thoughts into very near juxtaposition and allows the electric spark of a.s.sociation to combine them with rare frequency.

The words that fell from Hedwig's lips were so sweet as to imbue with their charm even the harsh dialect in which they were spoken. He now determined to devote his particular study to this idiom, and, if possible, to make it the basis of the instruction of his pupils. He asked the old teacher to help him to some of the works written in the Upper Suabian dialect, and received that old gentleman's favorite work,--indeed, almost the only one he read,--Sebastian Sailer's poems.

With all his new predilections, it was some time before he could read these effusions with pleasure. The entire absence of what is ordinarily called refinement in the character of these people--that spirit which cannot deal even with the most sacred things save in a vein of blunt good-humor akin to burlesque--is here presented with overpowering truthfulness. The poet--a spiritual one, by-the-by--represents G.o.d the Father in the character of a village squire, and keeps up the _role_ for many pages.

The old teacher explained that all this had not in the least affected the sanct.i.ty of religion. "In those days," said he, "when people's piety was in their hearts and not on their tongues, they could crack a dozen jokes, and yet their hearts remained the same: nowadays they're afraid of the snuffers coming near the candle, for they know it will take very little to put it out, and they must trim it all the time to keep it alive. I used to play jigs on the organ whenever I had a mind to."

Our friend, while admitting the force of this argument, suspected that a little of the scoffing spirit of the last century had also found its way into the poet's rhymes, though, doubtless, not into the hearts of his public; but he kept this idea to himself, and drew from the schoolmaster a full account of the manner in which these extraordinary dramas used to be performed at Carnival-time. The old gentleman was particularly explicit in describing the costume he himself had worn in the character of Lucifer.

"Modern culture and refinement have taken many things from the people.

What substantial joys have they received in return? Can they be compensated? and how?"

These words, taken from his note-book, appear to have been written about that time. A movement was going on within him.

One day Buchmaier urged him to apply for the right of citizens.h.i.+p in the village, as he might calculate upon receiving the office of town-clerk. Seizing the broad hand of his friend, he replied, joyfully, "Now you have it in your power to make peace in the whole village, if you will only get my broth--I mean the College Chap, this office: he is amply competent."

Buchmaier smiled, but would not consent. At the teacher's earnest entreaties, however, he agreed to abstain from all opposition.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The procession pa.s.sed up the street.]

The teacher hastened to broach the matter to the College Chap. The latter received the suggestion with some _hauteur_, and said he did not know whether he could take the office. Nevertheless, he thanked the teacher for his good-will, and the preliminaries of a peace were concluded between the parties.

Harvest-home came, and the two couples went to the dance, as they had arranged.

No longer did the teacher loiter in the fields while the village was alive with dance and song: he was himself a partic.i.p.ator in the revel; but even yet he was not entirely absorbed in it.

For two days he did not leave the dancing-floor, except once, to take a short walk with Hedwig and Agnes in the fields and refresh his powers for new exertions. At times a pang would strike him when an impure song was heard: he would fain have stopped his ears and Hedwig's against it.

The idea of endeavoring to exert an influence upon this spontaneous product of the popular mind and heart recurred to him with more force than ever. He had acquired some popularity among the young fellows by his partic.i.p.ation in their amus.e.m.e.nts; and upon this foundation he built a portion of his hopes.

For two whole nights he had kept it up; but when, on the third day, the harvest-home was buried with pomp and funeral solemnities, he could not induce himself to join in this extravaganza also. Standing before his door, he watched the procession as it pa.s.sed up the street, preceded by the band playing a dead march, sometimes interrupted by a whining chant or dirge. A trestle, covered with broken bottles, gla.s.ses, and legs of chairs, was borne solemnly to the height and there cast into a grave and covered with earth, while the wit of the village expended itself in funeral orations.

Joy and sadness came and went by turns in Johnnie's house, after the harvest-home. Constantine was elected town-clerk, the teacher having electioneered for him in public. Peace was thus restored between the contending parties, and the College Chap made friendly advances to the teacher. The latter, in the gladness of his heart, addressed him, according to the German custom, with "thee" and "thou." Such an excuse for drinking a "smollis" was not to be neglected. The new town-clerk took the teacher's arm and dragged him by force to the inn, where the toasts were drunk in the most approved forms, the "brothers hail"

standing arm in arm and clinking their gla.s.ses as they sang.

After these preliminary operations, the College Chap entered the family council at home, and advocated the teacher's suit of Hedwig with his usual eagerness and impetuosity.

The betrothal of the two lovers was solemnized with the accustomed ceremonies. They plighted their troth to each other in the presence of her father and brother, of the old squire, and of Buchmaier, whom the teacher had invited in lieu of kindred or other friends.

When the transaction was over, Hedwig left her room with the bridegroom--for to that name, in German parlance, he was now ent.i.tled--and embraced him for the first time, saying, "I do love you dearly,--dearly!"

They repaired to her grandmother's room, who was lying ill in bed, and knelt down at her bedside.

"He is mine now, forever," said Hedwig. She could not say more. The grandmother laid her hands upon them and muttered a prayer; after which she said, "Get up, and don't kneel here: you mustn't kneel anywhere but before G.o.d. Don't I tell you? I am the messenger who is to give them notice in heaven that you have found each other. Teacher, what's your mother's name? I'm going to her the minute I get there, and to your father too; and then I mean to take my Jack Adam, and my brothers and sisters, and my parents with me, and my three grandchildren that are gone, and we'll all sit down together and talk about you and pray for you; and then you must be happy. Hedwig, I leave you my necklace, you'll find it in the closet there. And there's a wreath beside it, from my wedding: take good care of it: it will bring blessings down on you. Let your children smell at it after the christening. And, though you should get married soon after I go, you must have music at your wedding. Do you hear? You sha'n't be grieving for me, and the seven-league dance you must dance for me: I will look down on you with joy, and the whole family up there shall celebrate the wedding too."

The lovers tried to dispel her antic.i.p.ations of death; but she replied, "I feel just as if somebody was pulling my arm all the time, and saying, 'Make haste: it's time.' But it isn't hard enough yet: it must come harder. You mustn't cry now: don't. I am going into good hands, a'n't I? I thank the Lord for having let me live long enough to see Hedwig get a good husband. Love each other, and honor each other.

"Hedwig, he's a studied man, and they often get kinks into their heads: I know that from my sister. You must have patience with him. These studied men have very different notions from other folks, sometimes, and then they let them out the wrong way and to the wrong person. And you, teacher, when you get my Hedwig, my dear Hedwig----" She could not speak further: the girl lay on her neck, weeping.

The old woman had spoken quite fluently, her cough having disappeared entirely; now, however, she sank upon her pillow exhausted. The lovers stood looking upon her sadly. At last she raised herself again, and said, "Hedwig, go and ask Valentine's Christina to stay with me: I sha'n't die to-day yet. You mustn't come to me again all day. Go, now, both of you, and be in good spirits: promise me to be in good spirits."

The teacher executed the commission she had given to Hedwig, and then both were dismissed from the bedside. Their hearts continued to quiver with sadness until they had seen Buchmaier's Agnes, who managed to enliven them with her usual chat and raillery.

Then they walked in the fields, followed by the white hen. The seed was not yet in the ground,--so that there was no objection to her being at large. The breath of Nature recalled their souls to the full gladness of the occasion. Around them autumn was at work among the yellow leaves; but in their hearts it was all spring.

Next day Hedwig's grandmother called for the Eucharist. The teacher did duty for the s.e.xton, and carried the lantern for the parson: a considerable portion of the congregation a.s.sembled at the door and prayed while Maurita was being "served" within. The only reflection occupying the teacher's thoughts during the ceremony was, "Would that all freethinkers could meet death with equal confidence!" Maurita received the sacrament with open, beaming eyes, then turned to the wall and spoke no more. When they looked at her after a time, she was dead.

Maurita was buried with silent and devout sadness, unaccompanied by loud weeping or wailing. The whole village mourned. Even old George the blacksmith said, with a seriousness unusual to him, "I am so sorry she is dead! My turn comes next."

When the teacher returned from the burial, Hedwig embraced him, and said, weeping, "I want you more than ever now: I have no grandmother any more."

The teacher had found another tie to attach him to the village: the corpse of a friend rested in its soil.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The corpse of a friend rested in its soil.]

Thus we have accompanied the good Maurita to the entrance of the life beyond, and the teacher to the opening of a new life on earth. We cannot follow the good old grandmother to heaven: let us see, a little longer, what happened to the teacher.

His betrothal had given great satisfaction throughout the village. Even the children playing on the site of the fire were sometimes involved in excited discussions, as they endeavored to explain their relations.h.i.+p to Hedwig, and therefore to the teacher. Johnnie had not a great many friends in the village; but this event gave pleasure to all. Everyone whom the teacher met shook hands and wished him much joy and happiness.

Every one had something good to tell of Hedwig. Men and women who would otherwise never have thought of conversing with the teacher now chatted like old acquaintances. Mat came to his house, shook his hands warmly, and said, "Ah, I was the one that told you it must come so: don't you remember? You might have given me a farm and you wouldn't have pleased me more. When the old teacher dies you shall have the two fields he farms now: it's good land, and, if you'll let me know, I'll work two or three days for you with pleasure."

The teacher was doubly pleased at this friendly spirit. He saw the good hearts of the villagers; and he also saw how firm a footing he had gained in their affections, and how much he had bettered the prospect of exerting a beneficent influence over them.

Mankind are no longer accustomed to receive benefits emanating from no other motive than the general desire to do them good. They have been betrayed and disappointed so often that now they meet the philanthropist with intuitive suspicion. They think so very general an aspiration must cloak some very particular design. They will permit no one to love them unreservedly but those who are related to them by some special bond of kindred or other relations.h.i.+p.

Winter stalked into the village with rapid strides. The villagers remained at home and enjoyed what their toil had gathered. Thres.h.i.+ng, and a little manuring, was the only kind of labor that could be performed. When the grain was threshed, all was silent. Here and there a travelling peddler might be heard crying "Spindles! wives' spindles!"

The snow drifted about the street, and all cuddled around the genial tile stove. At such times an evil spirit would walk in the village in broad daylight,--the spirit of idleness. Whomsoever the spirit looked at was doomed to yawn and gossip and quarrel. The time of rest was not a time of recreation, because there had been no exertion to rest from.

Young men sat for whole days in the tavern, playing cards; and, though so sorely burdened with excess of time, they never thought of going home till the last stroke of the "police-hour" of eleven had brought in the beadle and the landlord's inevitable notice to quit. Others went to bed early and drowned their time in sleep; while still others soiled it with wickedness.