"As you go from Motiers-Navers to Boudry, on your way to Neufchatel," saidthe young professor of botany, "you follow a road between two walls ofrocks of immense height; they reach a perpendicular elevation of five orsix hundred feet, and are hung with wild plants, the mountain basil(thymus alpinus), ferus (polypodium), the whortleberry (vitis idoea),ground ivy, and other climbing plants producing a wonderful effect.
"The road winds along this defile; it rises, falls, turns, sometimestolerably level, sometimes broken and abrupt, according to the thousandirregularities of the ground. Grey rocks almost meet in an arch overhead,others stand wide apart, leaving the distant blue visible, anddiscovering sombre and melancholy-looking depths, and rows of firsas far as the eye could reach.
"The Reuss flows along the bottom, sometimes leaping along in waterfalls,then creeping through thickets, or steaming, foaming, and thundering overprecipices, while the echoes prolong the tumult and roar of its torrentsin one immense endless hum. Since I left Tubingen the weather hadcontinued fine; but when I reached the summit of this gigantic staircase,about two leagues distant from the little hamlet of Novisaigne, Isuddenly noticed great grey clouds begin passing overhead, which soonfilled up the defile entirely; this vapour was so dense that it soonpenetrated my clothes as a heavy dew would have done.
"Although it was only two in the afternoon, the sky became clouded overas if darkness was coming on; and I foresaw a heavy storm was about tobreak over my head.
"I consequently began looking about for shelter, and I saw through oneof those wide openings which afford you a perspective view of the Alps,about two or three hundred yards distant on the slope leading down tothe lake, an ancient-looking grey chalet, moss-covered, with its smallround windows and sloping roof loaded with large stones, its stairsoutside the house, with a carved rail, and its basket-shaped balcony,on which the Swiss maidens generally hang their snowy linen andscarlet petticoats to dry.
"Precisely as I was looking down, a tall woman in a black cap was foldingand collecting the linen which was blowing about in the wind.
"To the left of this building a very large apiary supported on beams,arranged like a balcony, formed a projection above the valley.
"You may easily believe that without the loss of a moment I set offbounding through the heather to seek for shelter from the coming storm,and well it was I lost no time, for I had hardly laid my hand on thehandle of the door before the hurricane burst furiously overhead; everygust of wind seemed about to carry the cottage bodily away; but itsfoundations were strong, and the security of the good people within,by the warmth of their reception, completely reassured me about theprobability of any accident.
"The cottage was inhabited by Walter Young, his wife Catherine, andlittle Raesel, their only daughter.
"I remained three days with them; for the wind, which went down aboutmidnight, had so filled the valley of Neufchatel with mist, that themountain where I had taken refuge was completely enveloped in it; it wasimpossible to walk twenty yards from the door without experiencing greatdifficulty in finding it again.
"Every morning these good people would say, when they saw me buckle on myknapsack--
"'What are you about, Mr. Hennetius? You cannot mean to go yet; you willnever arrive anywhere. In the name of Heaven stay here a little longer!'
"And Young would open the door and exclaim--
"'Look there, sir; you must be tired of your life to risk it among theserocks. Why, the dove itself would be troubled to find the ark again insuch a mist as this.'
"One glance at the mountain side was enough for me to make up my mind toput my stick back again in the corner.
"Walter Young was a man of the old times. He was nearly sixty; his grandhead wore a calm and benevolent expression--a real Apostle's head. Hiswife, who always wore a black silk cap, pale and thoughtful, resembledhim much in disposition. Their two profiles, as I looked at them definedsharply against the little panes of glass in the chalet's windows,recalled to my mind those drawings of Albert Durer the sight of whichcarried me back to the age of faith and the patriarchal manners of thefifteenth century. The long brown rafters of the ceiling, the deal table,the ashen chairs with the carved backs, the tin drinking-cups, thesideboard with its old-fashioned painted plates and dishes, the crucifixwith the Saviour carved in box on an ebony cross, and the worm-eatenclock-case with its many weights and its porcelain dial, completed theillusion.
"But the face of their little daughter Raesel was still more touching.I think I can see her now, with her flat horsehair cap and watered blacksilk ribbons, her trim bodice and broad blue sash down to her knees,her little white hands crossed in the attitude of a dreamer, her longfair curls--all that was graceful, slender, and ethereal in nature. Yes,I can see Raesel now, sitting in a large leathern arm-chair, close to theblue curtain of the recess at the end of the room, smiling as shelistened and meditated.
"Her sweet face had charmed me from the first moment I saw her and I wascontinually on the point of inquiring why she wore such an habituallymelancholy air, why did she hold her pale face down so invariably, andwhy did she never raise her eyes when spoken to?
"Alas! the poor child had been blind from her birth.
"She had never seen the lake's vast expanse, nor its blue sheetblending so harmoniously with the sky, the fishermen's boats whichploughed its surface, the wooded heights which crowned it and casttheir quivering reflection on its waters, the rocks covered with moss,the green Alpine plants in their vivid and brilliant colouring; nor hadshe ever watched the sun set behind the glaciers, nor the long shades ofevening draw across the valleys, nor the golden broom, nor the endlessheather--nothing. None of these things had she ever seen; nothing of whatwe saw every day from the windows of the chalet.
"'What an ironical commentary on the gifts of Fortune!' thought I, as Isat looking out of the window at the mist, in expectation of the sun'sappearing once more, 'to be blind in this place! here in presence ofNature in its sublimest form, of such limitless grandeur! To be blind!Oh, Almighty God, who shall dare to dispute Thy impenetrable decrees, orwho shall venture to murmur at the severity of Thy justice, even when itsweight falls on an innocent child? But to be thus blind in the presenceof Thy grandest creations, of creations which ceaselessly renew ourenthusiasm, our love, and our adoration for Thy genius, Thy power, andThy goodness; of what crime can this poor child have been guilty thusto deserve Thy chastisement?'
"And my reflections continually reverted to this topic.
"I asked myself, too, what compensation Divine pity could make itscreature for the deprival of its greatest blessing, and, finding none, Ibegan to doubt its power.
"'Man, in his presumption,' said the royal poet, 'dares to glorifyhimself in his knowledge, and judge the Eternal. But his wisdom is butfolly, and his light darkness.'
"Oh that day one of Nature's great mysteries was revealed to me,doubtless with the purpose of humbling my vanity, and of teaching methat nothing is impossible to God, and that it is in His power onlyto multiply our senses, and by so doing gratify those who please Him."
Here the young professor took a pinch from his tortoiseshell snuff-box,raised his eyes to the ceiling with a contemplative air, and then, aftera short pause, continued in these terms:--
"Does it not often happen to you, ladies, when you are in the country infine weather in summer, especially after a brief storm, when the air iswarm, and the exhalations from the ground filling it with the perfume ofthousands of plants, and their sweet scent penetrates and warms you; whenthe foliage from the trees in the solitary avenues, as well as from thebushes, seems to lean over you as if it sought to take you in its armsand embrace you; when the minutest flowers, the humble daisy, the blueforget-me-not, the convolvulus in the hedgerows raise their heads andfollow you with a longing look--does it not happen to you to experiencean inexpressible sensation of languor, to sigh for no apparent reason,and even to feel inclined to shed tears, and to ask yourselves, 'Why doesthis feeling of love oppress me? why do my kn
ees bend under me? whencethese tears?'
"Whence indeed, ladies? Why from life, and the thousands of living thingswhich surround you, lean to you, and call to you to stay with them, whilethey gently murmur, 'We love you; love us, and do not leave us.'
"You can easily imagine, then, the deep enthusiastic feeling and thereligious sentiment of a person always in a similar state of ecstasy.Even if blind, abandoned by his friends, do you think there is nothing toenvy in his lot? or that his destiny is not infinitely happier than ourown? For my own part I have not the slightest doubt of it.
"But you will, doubtless, say such a condition is impossible--the mindof man would break down under such a load of happiness. And, moreover,whence could such happiness be derived? What organs could transmit,and where could it find, such a sensation of universal life?
"This, ladies, is a question to which I can give you no answer; but I askyou to listen and then judge.
"The very day I arrived at the chalet I had made a singular remark--theblind girl was especially uneasy about the bees.
"While the wind was roaring without Raesel sat with her head on her handslistening attentively.
"'Father,' said she, 'I think at the end of the apiary the third hive onthe right is still open. Go and see. The wind blows from the north; allthe bees are home; you can shut the hive.'
"And her father having gone out by a side door, when he returned hesaid--
"'It is all right, my child; I have closed the hive.'
"Half an hour afterwards the girl, rousing herself once more from herreverie, murmured--
"'There are no more bees about, but under the roof of the apiary thereare some waiting; they are in the sixth hive near the door; please go andlet them in, father.'
"The old man left the house at once. He was away more than a quarter ofan hour; then he came back and told his daughter that everything was asshe wished it--the bees had just gone into their hive.
"The child nodded, and replied--
"'Thank you, father.'
"Then she seemed to doze again.
"I was standing by the stove, lost in a labyrinth of reflections; howcould that poor blind girl know that from such or such a hive there werestill some bees absent, or that such a hive had been left open? Thisseemed inexplicable to me; but having been in the house hardly one hour,I did not feel justified in asking my hosts any questions with regard totheir daughter, for it is sometimes painful to talk to people on subjectswhich interest them very nearly. I concluded that Young gave way to hisdaughter's fancies in order to induce her to believe she was of someservice in the family, and that her forethought protected the bees fromseveral accidents. That seemed the simplest explanation I could imagine,and I thought no more about it.
"About seven we supped on milk and cheese, and when it was time to retireYoung led me into a goodsized room on the first floor, with a bed and afew chairs in it, panelled in fir, as is generally the case in thegreater number of Swiss chalets. You are only separated from yourneighbours by a deal partition, and you can hear every footstep andnearly every word.
"That night I was lulled to sleep by the whistling of the wind and thesound of the rain beating against the window-panes. The next day the windhad gone down and we were enveloped in mist. When I awoke I found mywindows quite white, quite padded with mist. When I opened my window thevalley looked like an immense stove; the tops of a few fir-trees aloneshowed their outlines against the sky; below, the clouds were in regularlayers down to the surface of the lake; everything was calm, motionless,and silent.
"When I went down to the sitting-room I found my hosts seated at table,about to begin breakfast.
"'We have been waiting for you,' cried Young gaily.
"'You must excuse us,' said the mother; 'this is our regular breakfasthour.'
"'Of course, of course; I am obliged to you for not noticing mylaziness.'
"Raesel was much more lively than the preceding evening; she had a freshcolour in her cheeks.
"'The wind has gone down,' said she; 'the storm has passed away withoutdoing any harm.'
"'Shall I open the apiary?' asked Young.
"'No, not yet; the bees would lose themselves in this mist. Besides,everything is drenched with rain; the brambles and mosses are full ofwater; the least puff of wind would drown many of them. We must wait alittle while. I know what is the matter: they feel dull, they want towork; they are tormented at the idea of devouring their honey insteadof making it. But I cannot afford to lose them. Many of the hives areweak--they would starve in winter. We will see what the weather is liketo-morrow.'
"The two old people sat and listened without making any observations.
"About nine the blind girl proposed to go and visit her bees; Young andCatherine followed her, and I did the same, from a very natural feelingof curiosity.
"We passed through the kitchen by a door which opened on to a terrace.Above us was the roof of the apiary; it was of thatch, and from its ledgehoneysuckle and wild grapes hung in magnificent festoons. The hives werearranged on three shelves.
"Raesel went from one to the other, patting them, and murmuring--
"'Have a little patience; there is too much mist this morning. Ah! thegreedy ones, how they grumble!'
"And we could hear a vague humming inside the hive, which increased inintensity until she had passed.
"That awoke all my curiosity once more. I felt there was some strangemystery which I could not fathom, but what was my surprise, when, as Iwent into the sitting-room, I heard the blind girl say in a melancholytone of voice--
"'No, father, I would rather not see at all to-day than lose my eyes. Iwill sing, I will do something or other to pass the time, never mindwhat; but I will not let the bees out.'
"While she was speaking in this strange manner I looked at Walter Young,who glanced out of the window and then quietly replied--
"'You are right, child; I think you are right. Besides, there is nothingto see; the valley is quite white. It is not worth looking at.'
"And while I sat astounded at what I heard, the child continued--
"'What lovely weather we had the day before yesterday! Who would havethought that a storm on the lake would have caused all this mist? Now onemust fold up its wings and crawl about like a wretched caterpillar.'
"Then again, after a few moments' silence--
"'How I enjoyed myself under the lofty pines on the Grinderwald! How thehoney-dew dropped from the sky! It fell from every branch. What a harvestwe made, and how sweet the air was on the shores of the lake, and in therich Tannemath pastures--the green moss, and the sweet-smelling herbs! Isang, I laughed, and we filled our cells with wax and honey. Howdelightful to be everywhere, see everything, to fly humming about thewoods, the mountains, and the valleys!'
"There was a fresh silence, while I sat, with mouth and eyes open,listening with the greatest attention, not knowing what to think or whatto say.
"'And when the shower came,' she went on, 'how frightened we were! Agreat humble-bee, sheltered under the same fern as myself, shut his eyesat every flash; a grasshopper had sheltered itself under its great greenbranches, and some poor little crickets had scrambled up a poppy to savethemselves from drowning. But what was most frightful was a nest ofwarblers quite close to us in a bush. The mother hovered round about us,and the little ones opened their beaks, yellow as far as their windpipes.How frightened we were! Good Lord, we were frightened indeed! Thanks beto Heaven, a puff of wind carried us off to the mountain side; and nowthe vintage is over we must not expect to get out again so soon.'
"On hearing these descriptions of Nature so true, at this worship of dayand light, I could no longer entertain the least doubt on the subject.
"'The blind girl sees,' said I to myself; 'she sees through thousands ofeyes; the apiary is her life, her soul. Every bee carries a part of heraway into space, and then returns drawn to her by thousands of invisiblethreads. The blind girl penetrates the flowers and the mosses; she revelsin their perfume; when the sun shin
es she is everywhere; in the mountainside, in the valleys, in the forests, as far as her sphere of attractionextends.'
"I sat confounded at this strange magnetic influence, and felt tempted toexclaim--
"'Honour, glory, honour to the power, the wisdom, and the infinitegoodness of the Eternal God! For Him nothing is impossible. Every day,every instant of our lives reveals to us His magnificence.'
"While I was lost in these enthusiastic reflections, Raesel addressed mewith a quiet smile.
"'Sir,' said she.
"'What, my child?'
"'You are very much surprised at me, and you are not the first person whohas been so. The rector Hegel, of Neufchatel, and other travellers havebeen here on purpose to see me: they thought I was blind. You thought sotoo, did you not?'
"'I did indeed, my dear child, and I thank the Lord that I was mistaken.'
"'Yes,' said she, 'I know you are a good man--I can tell it by yourvoice. When the sun shines I shall open my eyes to look at you, and whenyou leave here I will accompany you to the foot of the mountain.'
"Then she began to laugh most artlessly.
"'Yes,' said she, 'you shall have music in your ears, and I will seatmyself on your cheek; but you must take care--take care. You must nottouch me, or I should sting you. You must promise not to be angry.'
"'I promise you, Raesel, I promise you I will not,' I said with tears inmy eyes, 'and, moreover, I promise you never to kill a bee or any otherinsect except those which do harm.'
"'They are the eyes of the Lord,' she murmured. 'I can only see by my ownpoor bees, but He has every hive, every ant's nest, every leaf, everyblade of grass. He lives, He feels, He loves, He suffers, He does goodby means of all these. Oh, Monsieur Hennetius, you are right not to painthe Lord, who loves us so much!'
"Never in my life had I been so moved and affected, and it was a fullminute before I could ask her--
"'So, my dear child, you see by your bees; will you explain to me howthat is?'
"'I cannot tell, Monsieur Hennetius; it may be because I am so fond ofthem. When I was quite a little child they adopted me, and they havenever once hurt me. At first I liked to sit for hours in the apiary allalone and listen to their humming for hours together. I could see nothingthen, everything was dark to me; but insensibly light came upon me. Atfirst I could see the sun a little, when it was very hot, then a littlemore, with the wild vine and the honeysuckle like a shade over me, thenthe full light of day. I began to emerge from myself; my spirit wentforth with the bees. I could see the mountains, the rocks, the lake, theflowers and mosses, and in the evening, when quite alone, I reflected onthese things. I thought how beautiful they were, and when people talkedof this and that, of whortleberries, and mulberries, and heaths, I saidto myself, "I know what all these things are like--they are black, orbrown, or green." I could see them in my mind, and every day I becamebetter acquainted with them, thanks to my dear bees; and therefore I lovethem dearly, Monsieur Hennetius. If you knew how it grieves me when thetime comes for robbing them of their wax and their honey!'
"'I believe you, my child--I believe it does.'
"My delight at this wonderful discovery was boundless.
"Two days longer Raesel entertained me with a description of herimpressions. She was acquainted with every flower, every Alpine plant,and gave me an account of a great number which have as yet receivedno botanical names, and which are probably only to be found ininaccessible situations.
"The poor girl was often much affected when she spoke of her dearfriends, some little flowers.
"'Often and often,' said she, 'I have talked for hours with the goldenbroom or the tender blue-eyed forget-me-not, and shared in theirtroubles. They all wished to quit the earth and fly about; they allcomplained of their being condemned to dry up in the ground, and of beingexposed to wait for days and weeks ere a drop of dew came to refreshthem.'
"And so Raesel used to repeat to me endless conversations of this sort.It was marvellous! If you only heard her you would be capable of fallingin love with a dogrose, or of feeling a lively sympathy and a profoundsentiment of compassion for a violet, its misfortunes and its silentsufferings.
"What more can I tell you, ladies? It is painful to leave a subject wherethe soul has so many mysterious emanations; there is such a field forconjecture; but as everything in this world must have an end, so musteven the pleasantest dreams.
"Early in the morning of the third day of my stay a gentle breeze beganto roll away the mist from off the lake. I could see its folds becomelarger every second as the wind drove them along, leaving one blue cornerin the sky, and then another; then the tower of a village church, somegreen pinnacles on the tops of the mountains, then a row of firs, avalley, all the time the immense mass of vapour slowly floated past us;by ten it had left us behind it, and the great cloud on the dry peaks ofthe Chasseron still wore a threatening aspect; but a last effort of thewind gave it a different direction, and it disappeared at last in thegorges of Saint-Croix.
"Then the mighty nature of the Alps seemed to me to have grown youngagain; the heather, the tall pines, the old chestnut-trees dripping withdew, shone with vigorous health; there was something in the view of themjoyous, smiling, and serious all at once. One felt the hand of God was init all--His eternity.
"I went downstairs lost in thought; Raesel was already in the apiary.Young opened the door and pointed her out to me sitting in the shade ofthe wild vine, with her forehead resting on her hands, as if in a doze.
"'Be careful,' said he to me, 'not to awake her; her mind is elsewhere;she sleeps; she is wandering about; she is happy.'
"The bees were swarming about by thousands, like a flood of gold over aprecipice.
"I looked on at this wonderful sight for some seconds, praying the Lordwould continue His love for the poor child.
"Then turning round--
"'Master Young,' said I, 'it is time to go.'
"He buckled my knapsack on for me himself, and put my stick into my hand.
"Mistress Catherine looked on kindly, and they both accompanied me to thethreshold of the chalet.
"'Farewell!' said Walter, grasping my hand; 'a pleasant journey; andthink of us sometimes!'
"'I can never forget you,' I replied, quite melancholy; 'may your beesflourish, and may Heaven grant you are as happy as you deserve to be!'
"'So be it, M. Hennetius,' said good Dame Catherine; 'amen; a happyjourney, and good health to you.'
"I moved off.
"They remained on the terrace until I reached the road.
"Thrice I turned round and waved my cap, and they responded by wavingtheir hands.
"Good people; why cannot we meet with such every day?'
"Little Raesel accompanied me to the foot of the mountain, as she hadpromised. For a long time her musical hum lightened the fatigue of myjourney; I seemed to recognise her in every bee which came buzzing aboutmy ears, and I fancied I could hear her say in a small shrill tone ofvoice--
"'Courage, M. Hennetius, courage; it is very hot, is it not? Come, let megive you a kiss; don't be afraid; you know we are very good friends.'
"It was only at the end of the valley that she took leave of me, when thesound of the lake drowned her gentle voice; but her idea followed me allthrough my journey, nor do I think it will ever leave me."
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