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XVIII
The Sacred Cornfield
(The translation of a chapter from “Jakob der Letzte,” in which tragic
story Rosegger tells how a rich man comes to a poor upland community, and
gradually bribes and tricks all the peasants except Jacob—who after a
dignified and then desperate effort to save the place, breaks his heart and
goes mad—to part with their homes and holdings to him for deer-forest.)
AGAIN and again Jacob sought refuge in his work. It was a good thing for him
that it was pressing, and left little time for his heartache. The field must be
tilled, the garden manured, and the meadows watered. In the early part of the
year the melted snow rushes wildly down, often tearing up the earth as it
goes; then comes the hot sunshine on the slopes: so that to-day there is too
much moisture and to-morrow too little. Hardly had the first blades sprouted
when the cattle were driven to the higher pastures, for the winter’s supply of
fodder was nearly all devoured before the spring gave its new green. Living
through the winter on moss and brushwood, the beasts were in such poor
condition when at last they came out into the open that they could hardly
climb the slopes, and many a one would slip and break a leg.
And yet there was a new motto in Altenmoos: up with cattle-breeding and
down with agriculture! Jacob could not make up his mind to alter his method
of farming: he loved his fields, all his heart was in them, and their tending
was a ritual to him.
When, as sower, he trod the long furrows, casting the seed abroad in the
earth, it was in an earnest, almost solemn manner, as if he were about some
sacred business; and then before his eyes the miracle of the divine love began
to fulfil itself. This man, with all his anxiety, his hope, his silent grief, knew
nothing better than to watch the resurrection of the buried grain. In the
peaceful time, after his working day was over and he sat alone, utterly alone
on his stone-heap, he would give himself up to blessed contemplation. Before
him the brown fields stretch away, the larks blow trumpets, and in tender,
reddish blades the dead arise and look up to heaven. Then gradually
everything begins to grow green, the tiny leaves curl and bend earthwards
The Forest Farm
Tales of the Austrian Tyrol
- Titel
- The Forest Farm
- Untertitel
- Tales of the Austrian Tyrol
- Autor
- Peter Rosegger
- Verlag
- The Vineyard Press
- Ort
- London
- Datum
- 1912
- Sprache
- englisch
- Lizenz
- PD
- Abmessungen
- 21.0 x 29.7 cm
- Seiten
- 169
- Kategorien
- Geographie, Land und Leute
- International