The Poor Man of Toggenburg - Autobiography of Ulrich Bräker

willingly sell them both or even give them away. The confounded sparrow-hawks not only plague my ears from mid-April till late in the autumn with their hideous cries, but - which is much worse - drive away the little songbirds, so that hardly a single one now dares to nest in the neighbourhood.

My neighbours are right good honest people whom I sincerely value and love. It's true that from time to time one of another kind comes into their midst, as happens everywhere. Of intimate friends, with whom one can exchange one's thoughts and open one's heart, I have none in nearby. Their place is taken by my Platonic loves in my little study.

The snow, too, lies a little too long on my garden in the spring. But I make war upon him, hack him into small pieces and throw ashes and dirt on his nose, so that he creeps away into the earth, and I can begin gardening as early as any. And this little piece of ground always brings me much pleasure. The soil is somewhat coarse and heavy, it's true, though I have been labouring over it for nearly five-and-twenty years, yet nevertheless it gives me herbs, cabbages, peas, and whatever serves my table, as much as I need, and also flowers and roses in plenty. In short I am as much pleased with it as many a prince with all his Babylonian gardens

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Say then, my boy! Is not our dwelling-place as agreeable as any in the world? Solitary and yet so near to neighbours, in the midst of a valley yet set a little above it. Or come with me, in the month of May, to the little grassy hill before our cottage. Look down through the valley so rich with colour, see how the Thur winds serpent-like through the finest meadows, rolling its waters still dark with snow right by your feet. See how countless full-uddered cows wade in the grass on both its banks. Listen to the jubilant chorus of the small and great singers of the hedgerow. A road passes our windows, but that is nothing; only look beyond the Thur to the highroad in the midst of the valley, it is never empty. See the row of houses that links Lichtensteig with Wattwil. There you have all at once the best of the town and of the countryside.

Ah, (perhaps you are saying) but these meadows and the cattle are not ours! Foolish child! They are ours indeed - and the whole world is ours. For who will hinder you from looking at them and feeling joy and pleasure at the sight? Moreover, I may have butter and milk from the beasts that graze there, as much as I please, their owners have only the care of them as their share. What need to call these mountain pastures my own? Or those fruit-trees so bravely decked in blossom? Their finest fruits are brought into our house nevertheless! Or those great gardens there? We can smell their flowers from afar! And even our own small garden, does not everything that we plant there, tend and care for, grow apace?

So, dear boy, I wish that you, beholding all these things, may feel only that which I have felt in my time and feel still every day, that you, with the same joy and gladness, may find and perceive the Giver of all things, as I have found and felt Him, so near to me, around me and within me, as He has opened this heart of mine that He created so soft and tender. Dear, dear boy! I cannot describe it to you, but it has often seemed to me that I entered into ecstasy as I surveyed all these wonders. Perhaps when deep in thought, under the full moon, I walked up and down in the fields, or on a fine summer evening climbed the hill yonder, and saw the sun sink and the shadows grow, my little house already standing in the blue twilight, as the rustling western breezes whispered around me, and the birds began their quiet evening song, then I at last formed the thought: All this for you, you poor sinful man? And a divine voice seemed to answer me: "Son, thy sins are forgiven thee!" O how my heart melted in sweet sorrow, how I gave free course to the stream of my joyful tears, and should have wished to embrace everything in heaven and earth around me, and then blessed dreams in the night would renew the happiness of the day.

See, my dear ones! That is my history to this day. In days to come, if the Lord wills and I live so long, there shall be more. It is all confusion - but then, so was my history.

The Hanging Gardens of Babylon were one of the seven wonders of the ancient world.