have seen
that entire flourishing lands which have been robbed of the protecting
forests have fallen prey to the devastating floods of the mountain
streams and the scorching breath of the storms. A large part of Italy,
the paradise of Europe, is a land which has, ceased to live, because its
soil no longer bears any forests under the protection of which it might
become rejuvenated. And not only is the land exhausted, but the people
are, likewise. A nation must die off when it can no longer have recourse
to the back-woodsmen in order to gather from them the fresh strength of
a natural, hardy, national life. A nation without considerable
forest-property is worthy of the same consideration as a nation without
requisite sea-coast. We must preserve our forests not only so that our
stoves shall not be cold in winter, but also that the pulse of the
nation's life shall continue to throb on warmly and cheerfully--in
short, so that Germany shall remain German.

The inhabitants of the German woodland villages have almost always a far
fresher, more individual, mental stamp than the inhabitants of the
villages of the plain. In the latter we find more sleek prosperity side
by side with greater degeneracy of morals, than in the former. The
inhabitant of the woodland villages is often very poor, but the
discontented proletarian dwells far more frequently in the villages of
the plain. The latter is more important in an economic sense, the former
in a social-political one. The forest peasant is rougher, more
quarrelsome, but also merrier than the peasant of the field; the former
often turns out a genial rascal, when the dull peasant of the field in
like case would have turned into a heartless miser. The preservation or
the extinction of ancient popular customs and costumes does not depend
so much on the contrast between mountainous-country and flat-country as
on that between the woodland and the field, if one includes in the
former the heaths, moors, and other wild regions. The forest is the home
of national art; the forest peasant still continues through many
generations to sing his peculiar song along with the birds of the woods,
when the neighboring villager of the plain has long ago entirely
forgotten the folk-song. A village without woods is like a city without
historical buildings, without monuments, without art-collections,
without theatres and music--in short, without emotional or artistic
stimulation. The forest is the gymnasium