Berthold Auerbach - Joseph in the Snow, and The Clockmaker. In Three Volumes. Vol. I.

"The wife of Schilder-David is one of those persons whose nature it is to sleep away the greater part of their lives; who walk about and regularly finish their work, but not a single word is ever said about them, either for good or evil. We have here an unusual number of such persons. Moreover, the wife of Schilder-David has been for some years almost stone-deaf. They had five daughters, all straight, tall girls, and even when they were children, stout and active. Schilder-David always said, 'they are for the sea,' which meant emigrating to America; and, indeed, four of his daughters are gone to America, two with their husbands, and two unmarried, but they married there soon after their arrival; one, died lately, but the other is well to do in the world, and yet Schilder-David is constantly longing to see his children, and often says – 'That America is a new species of dragon that robs us of our children.' The best thing he could do, would be to emigrate himself, for his lot here is hard enough, but formerly he could not make up his mind, and now it is impossible for him to go.

"His youngest daughter, Martina, was the especial pride of her father, for she was always at the head of the school. You have no idea what a character that gives a child in a village; a girl, especially, acquires a certain degree of pride in consequence, and is respected by others, and looked up to, even when her school years are over. She was a good, clever child. When she came here to be prepared for her confirmation, she always rubbed her shoes carefully on the mat, and persuaded the other children to do the same, in order not to soil the stairs or the rooms, and she and her companions insisted on sweeping out the church themselves, before the day of Confirmation. When she stood before the altar, she looked much older than her years; I never saw a prettier creature, and piety encircled her head like a halo. She often came to the parsonage to see us. My husband was particularly fond of the child, and he told me that on the day after the confirmation he met Martina in the fields, and she said that she felt now as if she had left her home; and indeed, shortly afterwards she was sent away from her parents' house. She was just sixteen when she entered into the service of the Röttmanns. They give good wages, and must do so, because no one can stay more than a year with that ill-tempered, fierce woman. Martina, however, remained with them for two years, – "

The pastor's wife was interrupted in her narrative by a strange echo of tinkling of bells in the village.

"What is that?" asked Edward.

"It is the troop of donkeys from the forest mill. The public road to the mill is very broad, but the donkeys are conveying corn and flour along the narrow footpaths, up and down the hills. I should like to have sent a message to Tony by the miller's man, but now it is too late."

Not till after repeated entreaties on the part of her brother, did his sister recommence her story.

"On the Saturday afternoon of a midsummer's day a woman was crouching behind a rock, overhanging that part of the stream where there is a black whirlpool. The sempstress Leegart chanced to be passing by on her way home from the forest mill, wishing to see the spot where she once lost her way.

"Leegart is full of superstition, though no one says more against it than she does. When on that Saturday she arrived at the rock and saw the figure cowering down behind it, she gave a loud scream. 'What can that be crouching in the bright light like a spectre? It is Martina!' She rose, and looking piteously at Leegart, told her that she had intended to drown herself, but that she must live for her child's sake; but when it was born she resolved to die. Leegart quickly promised to be godmother, for the belief hereabouts is, that a child for whom a godmother is promised before its birth, comes happily into the world, and even if it dies it is sure to be happy. Leegart never ceased talking to Martina, and striving to console her, till at last she persuaded her to go with her to the village.

"This took place in the afternoon; I was sitting with my husband in the garden, when suddenly we heard from the opposite side of the river, a shrill scream of agony that seemed to pierce our ears; and scarcely had we hurried out of the arbour than Leegart rushed up to us as pale as death, and said: 'Herr Pastor, for God's sake lose not a moment in going to Schilder-David's, for he will murder Martina, I fear.'

"I wished to go with my husband, but he told me to stay where I was, and went himself as quickly as possible. Leegart nearly swooned away, but luckily there was still a cup of coffee to spare, and when it had revived her she told me that Martina had come home in shame and disgrace. When David, who was cutting, wood before his door, saw her, and heard the sad truth, he raised his axe with the intention of splitting his daughter's skull. The neighbours, however, rushed up to him in time to snatch the axe from him, but he was still standing on the threshold of his door, threatening to strangle Martina if she attempted to come under his roof. Martina fell down on the doorstep; some women carried her into the house, and when she revived and saw her confirmation certificate hanging on the wall of the room framed under glass, she uttered such a loud, piercing scream, that we had heard it even at this distance; and she again relapsed into a dead faint. At last she was restored, but David called out, 'Don't bring her to life again, for out she shall go as soon as she can move. Oh Lord, strike me blind! accursed be my eyes! America deprived me of my other children, and now! now!' … He made a rush at Martina; the neighbours, however, held him back, and Leegart hurried away to call my husband. We waited long before my husband came back. He brought David with him, supporting him on his arm, for David was groping like a blind man; he had pressed down his hat over his eyes, and kept saying, 'Herr Pastor, shut me up – do! for I am no longer master of myself – my child, my best, my only child. She was a crown to me, as her confirmation said, and now – Oh, Heavenly Father, why is it Thy will thus to try me? It was not to be. I was not to reach the grave without this severe burden. Oh, Herr Pastor, to see a child even enjoy its food seems more pleasant than to do so yourself. Oh! how long do we tend our little child, and care for it, and rejoice in its health and strength, and hearing it say good and pleasant words; and glad when it comes from school and has learnt something useful; glad when it gathers wood, and sings and is merry – and then comes a man, and lays waste all this happiness! My other children live, but they are emigrants, and are no good to me; my Martina stayed at home, she is still before my eyes, but is worse than dead. When a child is virtuous we are doubly happy, but a wicked child can make a father not only doubly, but a thousandfold miserable. I keep racking my brain and I cannot, cannot find out where my fault has been, and yet I must be to blame, and now my good name – 'Here he saw me, and almost sinking down he exclaimed with a burst of convulsive sobs, 'Frau Pastorin, you always loved her well; she has given me my death blow – I feel it.'

"He could evidently scarcely sustain himself, we brought him into the house, and there he remained nearly unconscious for more than an hour; he covered his face with his hands, and large tears were seen trickling down through his fingers.

"At last he rose, and standing erect by a strong effort, he said:

"'May God reward you, Herr Pastor. Here is my hand; may I die an evil death if I harm my Martina – 'here he was interrupted by his tears, which flowed afresh at this name – 'if my Martina suffers through me either by word or deed. God has punished me through her; I must, indeed, be a miserable sinner. I was too proud of my children, and more especially of her, and she is now wretched enough; I will sin against fatherly love no more.'