UDEN HORIZO.
On the first of May of the following year, which happened to fall on a
Sunday, a long procession of carriages drove along the road from
Harburg to Friesenmoor. They stopped at the entrance to the estate.
Before them rose a triumphal arch composed of branches of fir garlanded
with flowers, and adorned with flags and ribbons, and a gold
inscription on a blue ground, which ran as follows:
"A gracious Sovereign's due Reward
To fruitful Labour, honest Work."
A "Verein" with its banner was posted beside the arch. There was a roar
of cannon, the banner waved, the Verein gave three "Hochs!" and its
chief, or spokesman, stepped up to the first carriage, in which sat a
youngish gentleman with spectacles, and an officer in the gorgeous
uniform of a Landwehr dragoon, his breast covered with stars and
crosses. The spectacled gentleman was the Landrath of the circuit, and
the cavalry officer was no other than Paul Haber, now Herr Paul von
Haber. For he had been raised to the nobility, and celebrated his
auspicious event to-day in the midst of his retainers and a host of
invited guests, whom he had fetched in a dozen carriages from the
station at Harburg, supported by his distinguished young pupils.
The spokesman of the Verein, a man of some fifty years of age, with a
grizzled beard, addressed the proprietor in a glowing speech, in which,
among other things, he assured him--the man of thirty-seven--that "We
all look upon you as our father, and honor and love you as if we were
your children." Paul smiled, and returned thanks in a few warm words,
then renewed "Hochs!" more waving of banners and firing of cannon, and
the procession set itself in motion again.
At the entrance to Kaiser Wilhelm's Dorf there ensued a second and more
elaborate welcome. Here too there was a triumphal arch and cannons, and
instead of one there were three Vereins with flags and banners, also
the schoolchildren, headed by the pastor and the schoolmaster, and the
whole female portion of the community lining the roadway on either
side, or massed round the base of the arch. The pastor made a speech, a
fair-haired schoolgirl recited a long piece of poetry composed by the
master in the sweat of his brow, the Choral Verein sang, the Young
Men's Verein--who were given to instrumental music--piped and blew a
chorale, and not till the all-prevading joy and enthusiasm had found
sufficient vent in the firing of cannon, in speeches, poetry, and
music, did the carriages move on, and finally reach the steps of
Friesenmoor House, where the guests were received by Frau von Haber,
assisted by Frau Brohl and Frau Marker. At the moment of leaving the
carriages three flags were run up the flagstaff on the tower--the
black, white, and red flag of the empire, then the white and black
Prussian one, and finally a green, white, and red banner with a large
coat-of-arms in the center. This third flag, somewhat enigmatical to
the guests, was the new family banner of the House of von Haber, with
the coat-of-arms of that noble race, now displayed for the first time
to the admiring gaze of the beholders.
The designing of a coat-of-arms had been no light task to Paul. From
the moment--now five months ago--that he knew his promotion to the
nobility was a settled affair, he had devoted the best part of his
thoughts to this weighty question. He hesitated long between medieval
simplicity and modern symbolism. An illustrative crest that should be a
play upon his name was out of the question; for of course it was only
another of Mayboom, the farce-writer's, jokes--he had taken him into
his confidence on one of his visits to Berlin--to suggest a sack of
oats, gules on a field, vert. After devising a dozen crests, each of
which he thought charming, only to reject it a day or two afterward as
inappropriate, he finally fixed on the one which now adorned his proud
banner. It displayed on a field, vert, three waving transverse bars
argent, and in a free quarter-purpure-dexter a medal of the
Franco-Prussian War in natural colors. The waving bars were in allusion
to the drainage canals on his marsh estate, and the medal to his career
in the war. He did not forget that he owed the realization of his
life's scheme to his wife's marriage-portion, and wished to show his
appreciation of the fact in a delicate manner by crossing the
transverse bars with a marshmallow in natural colors. However, he
abandoned this design when they pointed out to him at the Herald's
office that the crest would be rather overladen thereby, and at the
same time would betray too plainly the "newly-baked" aristocrat. Paul
left nothing undone. He provided himself with a motto. The incorrigible
Mayboom recommended, "The Moor has done his duty." Paul decided on
"Meinem Konige treu"--True to my king. Somebody at the Herald's office
suggested putting it "Minem Kunege treu," but he had not the courage.
But though his promotion had occupied him almost exclusively during the
last few months, necessitating frequent journeys to Berlin, he did not
cease to think of poor Wilhelm. For a whole year he, as well as Malvine
and Willy, wore deep mourning for the friend who had sacrificed himself
for them, and Paul erected a magnificent monument over him in the St.
Georg Cemetery in Hamburg, on which neither marble nor gilt nor verses
were spared. The monument is one of the sights of the churchyard, and
pointed out to visitors with great pride by the sexton. Old Frau Brohl,
too, kept green the memory of the departed friend. Her speciality now
was the manufacturing of flags and banners since Paul had founded quite
a number of Vereins among the settlers on his estate--latterly a
Military Verein, and one for Conservative electors. She was hard at
work from morning till night on these objects of art, which she
constructed out of heavy silk, and covered so thickly with symbolical
devices, and embroidered mottoes and inscriptions, that they were as
stiff as boards, and would neither flutter nor roll up. But when
Wilhelm's funeral monument was to be dedicated, she put aside Paul's
banner and coat-of-arms, upon which she was engaged, and wove a wreath
of wire and black and white and lilac beads, a yard and a half in
diameter, on which, between laurel leaves, were Wilhelm's name and the
date of his death, and the words: "Eternal gratitude." Nothing the
least like it had ever been seen in Hamburg before, and it was much
admired on the occasion of the ceremony.
Paul showed himself throughout as a man of feeling and character. When
his patent of nobility was signed, and he came to Berlin to be admitted
to the emperor, to thank him for the honor accorded to him, he went to
Schrotter, and begged him, as a personal favor, to accept his
invitation to the festivity which should take place on his estate on
the first of May. "I look upon you as Wilhelm's substitute here on
earth," he said, "and our friend must not be absent from my side on
this joyful occasion. I owe everything to him. He laid the foundation
of my prosperity, and preserved my heir to me, for whom alone I am
working and striving. If Wilhelm were with us now, he would not refuse
my request, and with that thought before you, Herr Doctor, you will not
pain me by refusing." The words came from Paul's heart, and showed that
he felt keenly the desire to do homage, in his way, to Wilhelm's
memory. Schrotter could not but accept.
To all outward appearances he had recovered from the terrible shock of
his friend's death, in reality, however, he was all the less likely to
have got over his loss, owing to the circumstance that he was often
busied with the management of Wilhelm's affairs, and thus the wound was
inevitably kept open.
Wilhelm left no will. After much inquiry, it was discovered that he had
a very distant relative living at Lowenhagen, near Konigsberg, married
to a poor village smith, and lavishly endowed with children. The house
in the Kochstrasse went to her--a very windfall, for which the honest
wife and mother was too thankful to be able to simulate grief at the
death of the relative she had never known. She generously handed over
all Wilhelm's papers to Schrotter, after having assured herself by
inquiries in various quarters that they would only fetch the value of
their weight. Schrotter gave them to the young man whom he and Wilhelm
had supported in his studies out of the Dorfling legacy. The recipient
was clever and shrewd, and justified the confidences his patrons had
placed in his future. He found that the first volume of the "History of
Human Ignorance," testing of the early ideas of mankind and their
psychological reasons, was completely ready for the press; and all the
notes and literary sources for the two following volumes only needed
putting together to bring the work up to the end of the eighteenth
century, and the experiments of Lavoisier, from which the
indestructibility of matter was deduced.
The first volume appeared in the autumn. On the title page he gave his
own name as the author, but did not omit, as a man of honor, to mention
in the preface that in compiling the work he had availed himself of
"the preparatory notes of the late Dr. Wilhelm Eynhardt, an eminent
scholar, lost all too early to the scientific word by a tragic death."
In the ensuing editions which followed rapidly upon the first, the book
meeting with great success, this preface was omitted as unnecessary.
The second volume appeared in the following year; the third--very
prudently--not till two years later. There were no more. In the two
last volumes there was no more mention of Eynhardt. After the
publication of the first volume, the young man whose name adorned the
title-page received a call to a public school, of which he now forms
one of the chief ornaments. To various inquiries with regard to a
concluding volume which should treat of the nineteenth century, he
replied by pointing out the doubtful wisdom of a history or criticism
of hypotheses and opinions which were as yet incomplete and still under
discussion, and put them off with vague promises for the future.
Schrotter only shrugged his shoulders. He knew Wilhelm's views on the
subject of posthumous fame, and the immortality of the individual, and
considered it inexpedient to punish the clever young professor for
being a man like the rest.
About three months after Wilhelm's death Schrotter received one more
letter from Auguste. He observed curtly and dryly that Monsieur le
Docteur evidently did not wish to have anything more to do with him; he
wrote, however, once more, and for the last time, in order to give him
his new address in case he might desire to answer. He had been obliged
to look for another place, the game was up at the Boulevard Pereire. In
spite of all their watchfulness, madame had managed to obtain morphine,
and one night in July, when the sister who shared her room was asleep,
she had given herself so many "pricks" that they had been unable to
bring her round again. Anne declared that it was on the anniversary of
the day on which Madame la Comtesse had made the acquaintance of
monsieur. At the breaking up of the household, Monsieur le Docteur's
things had been handed over to him, Auguste, and he held them at
monsieur's disposal. Schrotter wrote in answer that he might keep them,
and sent him a small sum of money as a bequest from Wilhelm.
Pilar's suicide made somewhat of an impression on him. So there were
women, after all, who could die of love, and that not in the first
moments of a mad and passionate grief, but after months, when the
nerves have had time to cool down. "She was hysterical," Schrotter said
to himself, endeavoring thereby to dispel various uncomfortable
suggestions. He did not wholly succeed.
As Paul begged him so earnestly to come to his festival, he accepted
the invitation, and found himself, on the first of May, among the
guests whom Malvine received on the steps of Friesenmoor House.
In the great oak-paneled dining room, with its windows looking to the
west, a banquet was laid for twenty-four guests. Following the country
custom, they sat down to table at twelve o'clock. Malvine, handsomely
dressed and richly adorned, sat enthroned in the middle of the long
side of the table, and had Chamberlain von Swerte (of the House of
Hellebrand) and the Landrath, to right and left of her. Paul, who sat
opposite, insisted against all the rules of etiquette on having
Schrotter beside him as his left-hand neighbor. On his right, Frau
Brohl, in rustling silk, sat in rapt silence. The ever-modest Frau
Marker was content to take a lower place.
The pastor said grace before the dinner began, which seemed to surprise
the Landrath, but the Chamberlain was much edified. The Young Men's
Verein played dance-music and marches in front of the open windows.
Paul proposed the health of the emperor, whereupon the Landrath, in a
carefully worded speech, drank to the host and the ladies. They all
clinked glasses with an enthusiasm which was in no way feigned, but
perfectly accountable after so splendid a dinner and such well-assorted
wines. In the midst of the gayety and noise, and while the clarionets
and trumpets blared away outside, Paul turned to his neighbor, and
tapping the foot of his glass against the edge of Schrotter's, he
whispered to him, unheard by the others: "To HIS memory!" He turned his
head away abruptly, bent over his glass, and was busily engaged in
furtively passing his table-napkin across his face and eyes. Schrotter
put his lips to his glass and closed his eyes. One could positively
trace upon his broad brow how a thought passed over it like a shadow.
The dinner lasted fully two hours, and brought Malvine in many a fiery
compliment, especially from the chamberlain, which she could accept
with a good conscience, knowing well how much she would have to pay to
the great Hamburg pastry-cook who had provided it. At dessert the heir
was handed round. Willy, who was really beginning to grow a little, was
unquestionably a well-bred child. He went with much dignity and
propriety from guest to guest, closely followed by Fido, who had grown
far too stout, offered his cheek politely to each one, shook hands
prettily, and was permitted to withdraw, accompanied by his
short-winded dog, after they had all sufficiently admired him.
After dinner the guests amused themselves according to their several
tastes. Some went to enjoy Paul's excellent cigars in the smoking room,
others went down to the village to look on at the rural festival
arranged by the master for his people, and where, between singing,
music, dancing, and drinking, the fun ran high; others again took a
walk through the fields of the estate where the young crops were just
coming up, spreading a green haze over the yellow coating of sand. It
was altogether a radiant picture of joy and prosperity; and the
happiest of all, whether of the guests flushed with the good dinner or
the villagers stamping on the green, seemed to be the master of the
house. He was rich, respected, full of health and spirits, his family
life unclouded; he had a high position, possessed numberless
decorations, was a captain of the Landwehr, had been promoted to the
cavalry, and now was even raised to the nobility. What more could he
desire?
Well then, if he seemed happy appearances were deceptive. A worm gnawed
at his heart. He had hoped to be created Freiherr--baron--and here he
was a simple "Herr von." How rarely is happiness perfect here below.
Pleading important business next morning in Berlin, Schrotter left soon
after four o'clock. He would not hear of Paul's deserting his guests to
accompany him to the station, as he was most anxious to do, but drove
alone to Harburg, and took the train that left at five o'clock,
bringing him to Berlin by way of Uelzen.
It was nearly two in the morning when he reached home. He stole on
tiptoe into his room, but Bhani, whose sleep was light and restless
when he was not there, heard him directly. She stretched out her arms
to him with a low exclamation of joy, pressed him to her bosom while he
kissed her on the brow, and was for jumping up and attending to his
wants. He would not suffer it, and declared that he wanted nothing. So
she remained where she was, only following him with her eyes while he
unpacked his bag and put everything in order. He then went into his
study adjoining and locked the door behind him. Bhani heard him walking
up and down for awhile, and then caught the sound of a creaking as of a
drawer being opened. She knew what that meant and heaved a deep sigh.
He was taking out the great leather book with metal-bound corners; his
diary, which had become his sole confidant now that Wilhelm was dead.
Guided by the delicate tact of the Oriental, the poor simple creature
divined easily enough that her sahib had cares which she could not
understand and sorrows which she might not share, and yet how happy she
would be if he would but deign to enlighten her ignorance, to explain
it all to her and disclose his heart to her fully. But, proud and
reserved, he scorned to acknowledge his troubles to any but himself,
and it was only in his diary that he unburdened himself of all that
weighed upon his heart and mind.
And now he sat at his study table and wrote in the big book.
"My poor Eynhardt! Only a year since he departed, and already it is as
if he had never been. What remains of him? A book that bears a
stranger's name upon the title-page; a little dog that is perhaps
happier now than when it belonged to him; a child like a dozen others,
who will presumably grow up to be a man like a dozen other men; and a
memory in my heart which will cease with the day, not far hence, when
this heart shall cease to beat. Now if Haber were to die to-day, a
flourishing tract of land and a hundred people whose existence he has
improved would testify aloud that his term on earth had not been in
vain.
"And for all that, Eynhardt was a rare and noble character, and Haber
the personification of all that is commonplace and work-a-day.
Eynhardt's gaze was on the stars, Haber's eyes fixed on the ground at
his feet. Wilhelm plucked that supremest fruit of the Tree of
Knowledge, the consciousness of our ignorance; Paul has the conceit to
think himself a discoverer, to have solved enigmas. But the noble,
soaring spirit leaves no trace behind, and the dull, mediocre person
plows his name in deep and enduring characters in the soil of his
native land. What was wanting in Eynhardt to make him not only a
harmonious but a useful being? Obviously only the will. But was this
want an organic one? I do not think so, for his lofty moral beauty was
perfect in proportion and balance, and this noble nature could not
possibly have been born incomplete, impossible that in a being so
perfectly formed in all other respects such an important organ as the
will should be missing. His absence of volition was but the result of
his perception of the vanity of all earthly ambitions, and his absence
of desire the outcome of his contempt for all that was worthless and
transitory, his aversion to the ways of the world a tragic foregoing of
the hope of ever getting behind it, and reaching the eternal root and
significance of the thing itself.
"Why was this German Buddhist not endowed with Haber's cheerful
activity? What an ideal and crowning flower of manhood would he not
have been if he had not only thought but acted! But am I not desiring
the impossible? Does not the one nature preclude the other? I fear so.
In order to attack unconcernedly that which lies nearest to us, we must
be unable to see beyond, like the bull charging at the red cloak. He
would not do it, if behind the red rag, he saw the man with the sword,
and behind the man with the sword the thousand spectators who will not
leave the arena till the sharp steel has pierced his heart. He who sees
or divines behind the nearest objects their distant causes, paralyzed
by the vision of the endless chain of cause and effect, loses the
courage to act. And inversely, to retain that courage, to strive with
pleasure and zeal after earthly things, one must make use of the world
and its ordinances, must move the pieces on the chess-board of life
with patience, and, according to its puerile rules, attach importance
to much that is narrow and paltry, and that is what, in his superior
wisdom, the sage will not stoop to do.
"I always come back to this thought. If the world consisted entirely of
Habers the earth would flourish and blossom, there would be abundance
of food and money, but our life would be like that of the beasts of the
field that graze and are happy when they chew the cud. If, on the other
hand, there were only Eynhardts, our existence would be passed in
wandering delightfully, our souls full of perfect peace, through the
gardens of the Academos in company with Plato; but the world would
starve and die out with this wise and lofty-minded race; unless,
indeed, the sun took pity on them, and brought forth grains and fruits
without their assistance, and unless a few flighty little women,
particularly inaccessible to the higher philosophy, should surprise
these transcendental and passionless thinkers in an unguarded moment,
and beguile them into committing some slight act of folly.
"To combine in one intelligence Haber's circumscribed vision, naive
self confidence, and enterprising activity with Enyhardt's sublime
idealism and knowledge of good and evil is outside the range of
possibility. And which of the two is of the greater benefit to the
world? Which of them raises mankind to a higher level of development?
Which of them best fulfills his purpose as a human being? Whose point
of view of the world and of life is the more correct? Which of the two
would I set up as a model before the child whom Eynhardt snatched from
death at the price of his own body, and in whom his life as it were
finds its continuation? My old friend Pyrrhon, thou who hearkened, two
thousand two hundred years before my day, to the profound wisdom of the
Brahmins, I can but answer in thy words, 'Uden horizo,'--I do not
decide."
THE END.