The Forest Farm: Tales of the Austrian Tyrol

by Peter Rosegger

  XIV

  A Forgotten Land

  I always say that the world is becoming too small. There is no roomleft for hermits.

  I frequently receive enquiries, from correspondents abroad, for coolsummer resorts,--for nature resorts. Would I please--so runs therequest--suggest a corner in the Alps where they will find clean roomsand good food in a farm-house kept by simple, kindly people. Addedconditions: no railway, no telegraph, no post, no newspapers. A placewhere they can feel safe from meeting English people or people fromBerlin and--forgive the imputation--Vienna. They want to have nothingbut woods and fields around them, and, oblivious of all town luxuriesand refinements, at least for a few weeks to bathe body and soul in thedew of a primitive life. This is the wish which--O curious sign of thetimes!--grows ever louder and louder. Is the return to nature, yearnedfor by the poets, at last beginning in earnest?

  If only the company-promoters do not seize upon this need and found acolony for hermits! It is not so easy to recover nature once wantonlydeserted. Our alps contain no valley, however secluded, into whichartificial wines and brandy and American meat-extracts and cigars havenot by this time made their way, in which the fences are bare ofrailway timetables and mineral-water posters and upon which some _Newsof the Day_ or other does not force its huge weekly doses of "culture"and information.

  This is the case by now even in those districts whose "unfavourable"situation has hitherto for the most part spared them the two well-known"blessings" of civilisation. The floodgates are opened; and even thoseparts cannot be spared the deluge....

  My forgotten land! He who would still bathe for a little in "the dew ofa primitive life" may do so! I hasten to draw a fleeting picture of theland and its people before the floods of the world come and inundateit.

  The region is locally and colloquially known as Sanct-Jakobs-Land, or"the Jackelland." It lies in Styria, between the M?rzthal and theWechsel mountain-chain. Its river is the clear-running Feistritz, richin trout, with its countless tributaries. When one crosses the top ofthe watershed over the Wechsel, or the Pfaffen, or from the M?rzthal,everything at once wears a different look. The mountains are lower, theforests more scattered, because they are broken up on every hand bycornfields. The farms lie isolated in the fields, on the skirts of theforests, often very high in the mountains. In the valley are the brightgreen pastures, with running brooks and corn-mills. The air is calm andpeaceful, disturbed by the whistle of no locomotive, the chimney of nofactory. The old farm-houses are humbly built; and the kitchen,living-room, hen-house and so on often form but one general room. Thismakes the new sort of houses, which are springing up on every side,look all the grander, with their sundry apartments and numerouswindows,--from which many a pretty, fair-haired face peeps out at us,for it is an event when a stranger comes that way.

  The farm premises are, for the most part, extensive, built of wood,straw-thatched and enclosed within a plank fence. Every farm has itsopen-air crucifix, often artistically carved, sometimes, I admit,adorned with a figure of Christ which faith alone can save fromridicule. On the spreading mountain-heights lie wide forests, such asTeufelstein, Fischbacherwald, Vorauerwald, Feistritzwald, Rabenwald.There are no work-houses, except the few on the Wechsel. For the rest,the region is well-populated and rich in compact villages and beautifulchurches. The mountain-village of St. Jakob im Walde, which gives theJakobsland its name, lies on a spur of the Wechsel, some four thousandfeet above the level of the sea.

  The inhabitants do not call themselves Jacklers: they are onlyso-called by the people in the districts round about; for the name doesnot stand for anything very fine, though it has grown old in honour.They simply call themselves after their parishes: the Rattners, the St.Jakobers, the Miesenbachers and so on. Almost every village has its ownpeculiarity. The Kathreiner goes in for finery, the Rattner fordisputes and litigation; the Wenigzeller is a great man for backbitingand quarrelling; the Fischbacher is a notorious brawler.

  The people are powerfully built and have tall and slender figures; theyare mostly fair-haired. The men wear clothes of dark stuff, in thesummer, and, in winter, the so-called _Wilfling_, a mixture of threadand sheep's wool; on workdays they tie on long blue aprons, a practicewhich prevails even among the schoolboys. The women favour a bunchystyle of dress; and when one of them wants to look particularly smart(and this applies to many), she puts on three, or five, or morepetticoats, one over the other. Many villages are already infected withthe fashion of dress introduced from the M?rzthal.

  A peculiarity of the Jackler is his love for flax, which he cultivatesin great quantities; and the hackling, in autumn, gives rise to regularpopular festivals. _During the winter, both men and women occupythemselves in spinning, and do so until late at night, passing thetime as they work in telling stories, asking and guessing conundrums,and singing._ Only there is no spinning after supper on Thursdays: fromflax spun at such a time the weaver weaves shrouds.

  Their food is simple and consists mainly of milk, flour, pulse,potatoes and linseed-oil. The everyday beverage is new cider. In someplaces they grind dried pears, and from the flour thus produced, whichis mixed into a pulp with milk, they make the so-called _Dalken_.Apples are also dried; and so are plums and cherries: these are allmade into soup in the winter. The cattle are reared, fattened and sold;sheep or pigs are slaughtered for holiday needs. The fare is very richon feast-days; and there is a tradition that, on Twelfth Night, ninedifferent kinds of stews should be consumed in every house: formerlythe Jacklers used to eat no fewer than three meals on that night, sothat "Three Kings' Night"[16] is known as "Three Meal Night" to thisday.

  The population, which reminds one, in its habits and customs, of theinhabitants of the B?hmerwald, is descended from Bajuvar stock andimmigrated in the sixth and seventh centuries. It is German by originand German by nature. Settled here for over a thousand years, theindividual members of this race have become so rooted to the soil thatthey never leave it, and only with difficulty admit anything foreign tothe land. The cell of the first German monk who began to convert theheathen is said to have stood in the desert where the little village ofM?nichwald now stands. The mission was afterwards continued by themonasteries of Vorau and P?llau. The living is in the possession of thepopulation to this day; in many places, the parish-priest fills at thesame time the offices of parish-councillor, guardian of the poor anddistrict school-inspector.

  One can easily, therefore, picture the peace that reigns betweenchurch, school and municipality. Generally speaking, the clergy--in theabsence of any defiant antagonism--are more liberal-minded here than inthose outlying districts where they feel called upon to defend theircompromised rule by the exercise of intolerance and severity.

  The Jackler is favourably distinguished in one particular from theagricultural population of some other parts: he is not neutral. In thesurrounding districts the peasant is apt to be indifferent towardsmatters of religious practice and equally indifferent towards otherideals and spiritual things. The Jackler is not like that. Gorgeousfestivals, which he loves to celebrate in his stately village-churches,festivals which remind one of the Tyrol in their splendour, their oftendramatic form, their medi?val love of God and veneration of the saints,delight him, stimulate him, give sustenance and substance to hisspiritual life. A priest who is not prepared to celebrate theanniversaries of the church's patrons with due pomp and ceremony and toinvite half a dozen neighbouring priests to read Mass and preach (andhe must provide them with a good dinner into the bargain) would soonfind himself at loggerheads with his flock.

  The district is often visited by fanatical missionaries, who promptlyarouse excitement for miles around. The parish-priest is not alwaysfilled with the friendliest feelings towards these hunters of souls,but he has to invite them for fear of offending his superiors. Thecosts of the mission are more than gladly covered by the parishioners.

  The Jackler is notable not only for his pious tendencies, but also forhis business subtlety; and he will swindle his parish-priest over ad
eal in oxen, to-day, after being moved to tears by his sermonyesterday--and this without the least prejudice to his own religioussentiments.

  "If I can't cheat my best friend," says the Wenigzeller, "whom _can_ Icheat? My enemy doesn't trust me!"

  The so-called lesser "holidays," of which there are over thirty in theyear, are also conscientiously kept: in the morning, by a sung Mass inchurch; in the afternoon, in the tavern or on the bowling-green. Manyservants work on those days on their own account; and, if theiremployer needs their services, he must pay them a special wage.

  The Jackler is quick in his work and moderate and discreet in hispleasures. There are rich and poor in this region as in others, but notin the ordinary sense. The householder is "rich" who is not in debt inrespect of his real or movable estate; "rich" is applied to the carrierwho has saved a little silver, to a farm-girl who has flax and linen inher trunk and perhaps hides a savings-bank book beneath it, with theamount of her reaping pay. "Poor" are the debt-ridden cottager, thelandlord whose property is mortgaged up to the hilt, the incompetentsalter or pickler. No one is ruined by privation: people, it is true,are often harsh to the poor man, but they help him.

  Nearly everything that the peasant needs is produced by his industry;there is little ready-money in the district; but, for that reason, ithas two or three times the value as compared with the prices ruling inthe railway districts.

  "A thousand gulden!"

  That expresses their utmost conception of wealth. The occasionalstranger who happens to have strayed into this region is surprised whenhe finds himself charged no more than eighty kreuzer for a good night'slodging and an excellent supper and breakfast. On the other hand, whena Jackler, for once in a way, travels on the railway, his wonder neverceases at the high fares which he is called upon to pay; and heconsiders that the shorter time the train takes to cover a distance,the less the charge should be.

  The inhabitants of the Feistritz district supply the M?rzthal withpoultry, eggs and fruit at a very cheap rate; and the women who carryand deliver them earn barely twenty kreuzer a day. Wood and coal alsofind their way into that ravenous and industrious valley; and theJackler artisans make their bit of money there. They have the making ofgood masons, carpenters, shoemakers, tailors, smiths, watchmakers,gunsmiths and so on. These workmen from the Jackelland are greatlyappreciated in the M?rzthal and round about; they work hard, well andcheaply, and are not particular in the matter of board and lodging.

  Many maid-servants, who enter a farmer's service for a year atChristmas, do so for a trifling annual wage of fifteen or twentygulden. On the other hand, they stipulate with their employers that, insummer, when there is hardly any pressing work to be done at home, theyshall be allowed to follow their own business for a few weeks. Thelasses then go reaping. In the month of June they wander away, withbundle and sickle, to the lowlands or the M?rzthal, where the corn isripe early; and they find plenty of work and amaze everybody by theireager and indefatigable diligence. This done, they cheerfully come homeagain with their reaping wages and once more apply themselves brisklyto the needs of field and garden. It is very seldom that one of them,lured by love or other worldly advantages, remains away; they like homebest, where they form part, so to speak, of the family of theiremployer, with whom maid and man alike live on fraternal terms.

  A fine characteristic of this little land is the cohesion that reignsamong neighbours. If one of them is visited with misfortune, the othersstand by him fairly and squarely; do his urgent work for him, if he beill; come to his aid with building materials, carpenters and masons, iffire or water have destroyed his house; send in food as well; andgenerally put the sorely-tried one on his legs once more. Again, incertain forms of labour, such as copse-cutting, flax-scutching,corn-mowing, they gladly work for the common cause--on this farmto-day, on that to-morrow--with the result that everything goessociably and cheerfully. One for all and all for one!

  The young lads stick together for their particular objects. They formclubs--each district according to its own requirements--through whichthey mutually support one another in their feuds and love-adventures.They help and protect one another in "window-haunting" and"street-strolling," as the nocturnal love-walks are called; they humbugthe father, when one of them is after the pretty daughter; they help todefeat the rivals; and, in addition, they play all sorts of practicaljokes, which their brains are very quick at inventing. The youth of oneparish will often hatch deliberate plots against that of another; andbloody fights take place on many a Sunday and holiday.

  Amorous relations between unengaged couples do not, as yet, occur tothe same extent in the Jackelland as elsewhere; morals are stricter,opportunities fewer and frivolity less marked. Manners, upon the whole,are more serious and sober, a fact which is in no way detrimental tothe pleasure of living, but, on the contrary, increases it and keeps itfresh and clean.

  The lover of a healthy and intelligent people must needs feel himselfat home and stimulated in the Jackelland. When, on a Sunday, he sitsamong the peasants in the Taf?s, or inns run by the church, he will notbe bored; he will rather be soon inclined to join in the conversation.But the stranger--if he think for a moment that he is ruling thetalk--must be on his guard lest he be made a butt of! They have attheir command an exceedingly witty and subtle form of ridicule, whichoften is understood only by the natives themselves. Many a townsman whohas tried to preach wisdom to the Jacklers has been delightfullyhoaxed by them and ultimately laughed out of court.

  Place-hunting, party-hatred, pessimism and such-like flowers of ourtime have not yet blossomed in the Jackelland. The people there arepeople in whom hard bodily labour rouses no complaint, in whom pleasureis not marred by a subsequent reaction, people whose life, usually along one, is spent peacefully, rich in great toils and small sins.Thanks to their moderation and contentment, they are free lords, whocan easily make fun of others who have fettered themselves in thechains of worldly advancement.

  The only sinister inhabitants are the civil engineers, who for yearshave been exploring the length and breadth of the little land, in thehope of sooner or later turning the iron horse to graze in those greenpastures.

  FOOTNOTE:

  [16] _Dreik?nigsnacht_, the German name for TwelfthNight.--_Translator's Note._