SONNLEIN TAKETH THE ORDEAL
There are more things in heaven and earth than are
dreamt of in your philosophy, Horatio.
--Shakespeare.
Over a month had passed away since the death of our Brother Alburtus and
his lonely burial far up in the mountain. My brethren, though at first
of a mind to bring him to our little graveyard in the meadow, at last
reluctantly came to my way of thinking that he should be left to rest
undisturbed where I had laid him.
Often as the days came and went I wondered what Sonnlein would say when
he returned, to find his dear Brother Alburtus gone. Oftener still in
those dreary days I would ponder and puzzle over the dying words of our
brother. I could understand how by the great shock of his fall he did
not know me, for I had seen more than once what a misty veil cometh over
the sight of the dying so that they know not at all even their most
beloved ones. But what I could not solve was why he called himself by a
name I had never heard before. Was David Seymour his own, right name or
the name of some friend of earlier days, and did our brother in his last
moments imagine himself that other one? And 'Lisbeth and the baby, were
these wife and child, or merely long-buried memories of acquaintances
revived in the very shadow of death? With all my pondering and puzzling
I could not solve the matter, and gradually it left me, though never
wholly cast aside.
Indeed, with the wandering away of our Brother Alburtus and his dying up
in those lonely mountains, and the loss of our Genoveva and my boy, my
cup of woe was well-nigh running over. The winter was now on the wane,
almost three months having elapsed since Sister Genoveva and Sonnlein
had gone, and still we knew no more than when they left us; for though
our justice kept me and our little Kloster in most affectionate
remembrance, I receiving many letters from him in all his great work and
responsibility, yet he had nothing to tell us other than not to lose
faith and courage; and for this we loved him, even though he gave us no
knowledge of our lost ones.
But surely it is cowardly and ungrateful in man or woman to complain
because the infinite Father doth not always explain to our narrow,
little minds why and wherefore he doeth this or that, for I have ever
found that if one will but possess his soul in patience and cease
repining and keep on doing his work all will come out right in the end.
So on a beautiful moonlight night, after I had retired to my _Kammer_,
shortly after the midnight services and had fallen into my usual sound
sleep, I felt, or at first dreamt I felt, a shaking of my arm; but as I
was about to turn over in my drowsy state, I received another shake of
the arm, this time so decided I no longer doubted I was awake. As I sat
up more frightened than I care to tell, I saw bending over me a
form--surely it could not be! but then as I heard my boy call me,
"_Vaterchen_," with such sadness and despair and weariness in his voice
as I thought would make my heart burst with very pity for him, I clasped
him in my arms and kissed him and wept over him as some mother over a
long-lost child. Such a simpleton was I, as all will agree, and yet I
doubt not I should do the same thing over again were there similar
occasion for it.
I know not to this day whether or not my boy wept, but his voice was
soft and gentle as a woman's as he said to me, "I could not wait till
morning."
"If thou hadst let me sleep till morning and not know of thy coming I
would never have forgiven thee," I assured him joyfully, holding him by
the arms. And then I turned toward the door of my _Kammer_, and was
opening it when he said, "Where art going? Surely thou'rt not tired of
me so soon?"
"Nay, to tell our leader and the Brothers and Sisters of thy return. It
were selfish to keep all this great joy to myself," and again I turned
toward the door, first lighting my fat lamp; but then as the flame grew
up I saw my boy was so faint and weak he would have fallen to the floor
had I not caught him to me and helped him to my bench, making him as
easy as our hard life would allow.
And surely I was well repaid for what I had suffered in all these
months; for as I lay down on the floor of my cell--not finding it to my
liking to let him go to his own--he whispered tenderly before he dropped
off to sleep, "Thou'rt the same old _Vaterchen_;" and this praise, with
my poor weakness for kind words, I held snug and warm in my heart for
many a year.
Thus we both slept long into the morning, only for once in my life I
slept not so soundly; for I could hear that Sonnlein was tossing and
murmuring in his sleep, contrary to his former habit, for like me he had
always been good at sleeping.
With the bright light of the morning I saw plainly now what his voice
and bearing had told me but faintly in the night; for as he lay asleep,
stirring often uneasily I could see that he was but a mere skeleton, his
face gaunt and haggard, with great hollows under the deep set eyes, and
the beard he had let grow was tangled and unkempt. A sudden fear
clutched my heart that he had come home but to die.
But truly the healing powers God hath placed in these bodies of ours are
wonderful things to set us straight if they be given a chance to work in
peace and quiet; for though I must spread the joyful news of Sonnlein's
return to our leader and all the Brethren, not forgetting the Sisters,
who were of a mind to make a great hero of my boy, and though the
Brethren passed my cell more quietly than ever often during the day, not
one with all the desire to give him greeting would disturb his rest; for
he slept on until evening, not even waking ere then to take the lamb's
broth our prioress had prepared for him.
But early in the night he sat up, and said, "Such a sleep have I not had
for many a day."
"Art not hungry?" I asked anxiously, "shall I not warm this lamb's broth
Mutter Maria hath made for thee?"
"Blessings on our good Mutter Maria!" he cried out with some return of
his old, fun-loving spirit, "but if thou lovest me," he said, as he
gulped down greedily the broth--and I dislike hasty feeding--"bring me
the lamb itself, for I am hungry as a wolf."
And, indeed, when I did coax our good prioress to give me such a load of
things as she declared was not safe to give him, it did seem to me as
though I had food enough for ten men; but he merely smiled when I
cautioned him against eating all this stuff, and in less time than I can
tell it he had actually eaten up everything so clean not a crumb was
left, so that I had not been surprised had he lifted the dishes to his
face and licked them off, as he had often done in his childhood.
Thus for a few days I made him take abundance of rest and sleep, and
between the Sisters and me he suffered not for food, but I refrained
from asking anything of his absence, thinking it better to wait until he
were more himself again.
But one evening, as we were sitting in my _Kammer_, about a week after
his return, neither of us saying a word for a long while--for with all
his lively nature he was never so garrulous as I--not being able to curb
my curiosity longer, I finally asked him, "What hast thou learned of our
Sister Genoveva?"
"Nothing," he replied sadly, "though I have sought everywhere for her."
"Hast been among the Indians?"
"Yea, and more than one of the French devils hath gone to his long
home," he replied savagely.
"Hast been among the Conestogas?" these being a peaceful Indian tribe
living in a little town or village not many miles beyond Lancaster,
toward the Susquehanna.
"I went there straight on leaving thee, for that way pointed the
footprints."
"Could the Conestogas tell thee nothing?"
"Nay, could not or would not--I know not which--though a half-witted one
whispered to me when he thought none could hear, that he knew where the
white sister was; but on pressing him for fuller knowledge he merely
pointed back toward the northeast, whence I had come, saying, 'Up, high,
with old woman,' but I paid no great heed to him, for he was not right
in his head."
"That night what didst thou make of the footprints?"
"One was Genoveva's, that was plain to be seen; the largest, an Indian
warrior's; the third, a squaw's or young Indian lad's, I have never made
up my mind which," and then he said nothing more for a long while, but
at last he looked at me suddenly, saying as though much puzzled, "Would
that I knew what the half-witted one meant; it hath been with me day and
night lately, so that I had no other will in me than to come back, for
it is in my mind that Genoveva, if she be still alive, is not far away."
After a bit he looked up at me as though he were ashamed to ask, "Dost
believe, _Vaterchen_, that if she be nigh her spirit hath called me
back?"
To which I could only say, "I know not, though there be among us who
claim they have had such communication, both with the living and the
dead."
And then in all the simpleness of a boy he asked, "Dost think our sister
was caught up into the heavens like Elijah?"
Ere I knew what I was saying I replied with some heat, for his question
seemed like blasphemy to me, "Nay, nay, Elijah was a saint!"
"Dost mean Genoveva was not good enough to be taken up like old Elijah?"
he cried out angrily at me, as he had never yet spoken to me.
"Quietly, my Sonnlein, quietly; my reply meant not that I think not
highly of our sister; but though we have holy writ that Elijah was
translated, yet there have been, as thou knowest, many good men and
women since that time who have had to go to heaven by way of the gates
of death. I do not think our Genoveva was taken up to heaven, and in
this I mean no disrespect."
But he heeded not the gentle reproof in my voice, and after a while he
asked, "Dost believe in the state of innocence taught by Brother
Onesimus and his brethren while they were with us, and of whom thou hast
told me so often?"
"Nay, I ne'er had much faith in their heathenish practices," I replied
shortly.
Still he persisted, "They who pass through the ordeal of purification
come forth with limitless vision and with mental powers unbounded."
"Who hath infected thee with this disease?" I asked crossly.
"I remember now that the day before Genoveva was taken from us Brother
Benno, who was one of the thirteen that took the ordeal--and thou hast
said thyself he was of the number--told me that since he had been
purified he had often spoken to the spirit of his dead mother, and hath
from here even seen his brother, who liveth in the _Vaterland_."
"Brother Benno is an exceedingly pious man," was all I could say.
"Dost not believe he speaketh the truth?"
"To the contrary I should be the last to doubt his word; but in my short
stay on earth I have heard pious men and women tell of things which to
my thick understanding were not possible. It never seemed to me that man
or woman could in the short space of forty days attain to physical and
spiritual perfection. What I have seen of my fellow-man compelleth me to
hold that even the longest lifetime is much too short for the making of
ourselves in any wise so much as near perfect."
But he only replied slowly, as if not convinced, "Still Brother Benno
may be right; at least it can do no harm to try."
"Try what?" I said very quietly to hide my dread his remark had put in
me.
"The ordeal. I have tried everything else. This one thing remains for me
to do."
To which I made stern answer, "All this nonsense cometh from the Evil
One; thou art tired, discouraged, worn out in body and spirit. Rest for
a few days, and with new strength and courage thou wilt have no
inclination for such foolishness."
To which he made no reply, but I could see his mind was, with all his
love for me, set on going through this pernicious thing. And that it may
be known why I dreaded this ordeal, which I hoped after the Eckerlings
left us would never be undergone again by any of us, I shall set forth
the manner in which the neophyte sought first physical regeneration, in
order that he might be properly prepared for moral regeneration, and
thus attain perfection.
This was the way of it: the seeker for perfection must with a single
attendant retire to a hut or cave in the forest on the night of the full
moon in the month of May, and for forty days live thus secluded in
fasting and prayer. No drink was allowed other than rain water which had
fallen during the month of May. This and dry bread crusts were all the
nourishment the neophyte could have. After being weakened by such rigid
fasting for sixteen days, on the following day the recluse, that his
physical nature might be further subjugated, had several ounces of blood
taken from him, after which certain white drops were administered,
though what their composition I never cared to know, only it was not
poisonous, and for this remnant of good sense I give cheerfully to the
originators of this iniquitous ordeal their proper dues.
Six drops of this elixir, which was prepared only by adepts, were taken
at night and a like quantity mornings, the dose being increased by two
drops a day until the thirty-second day when some more blood was drawn
upon the rising of the sun, the seeker for perfection then retiring to
his couch to remain there until the completion of the forty days.
At sunrise of the following day, being the thirty-third, the first grain
of _materia prima_ was to be taken, this being the universal and
invisible principle out of which God made all things and which he had
created to confer immortality upon man when first made in paradise, but
which substance, by reason of man's fall, was lost to the race, only to
be thereafter obtained by favor of such adepts as were within the
highest circles of the Rosicrucian brotherhood.
My hope is that they who may care to read this tale will have more
patience in the reading of this Rosicrucian folly than I have had in the
writing of it; for surely, whenever I think of this worst of all
wickedness inflicted on us by the Eckerlings, it requireth all the
Kloster restraint and moderation to keep me from strong and strange
words.
But spiteful words seldom cure things, so I shall tell of this _materia
prima_; for such was its power that the moment the neophyte took it he
lost all speech and recollection. Three hours later convulsions and
heavy transudation set in. After these subsided, the serving Brother
changed the couch and a broth made from lean beef and sundry herbs was
given. On the next day another grain of the _materia prima_ was taken,
in a cup of this broth, after which in addition to the convulsions and
transudations a delirious fever would set in, which ended with a
complete loss or shedding of the skin, hair, and teeth of the subject.
On the thirty-fifth day a bath of a certain temperature was given the
neophyte and on the following day the third and last grain of the
_materia prima_ was taken in a cup of precious wine, after which the
seeker fell into a gentle, undisturbed sleep, during which a new skin
appeared, and also the hair and teeth shed two days before were
miraculously renewed. On his awakening he was placed in an aromatic herb
bath.
On the thirty-eighth day of the ordeal an ordinary water bath in which
saltpeter had been dissolved was taken, the votary then resuming his
habit and exercising his limbs, and on the following day ten drops of
the elixir of life, or "grandmaster's elixir" or "balsam" were
administered in two large spoonfuls of red wine.
The fortieth day ended the period of perfection, and the votary being
now restored to the state of innocence man had before the fall, left his
hut or cell with the power to lengthen his earthly existence to the
limit of five thousand five hundred and fifty-seven years, in perfect
health and contentment.
After this came the forty days moral regeneration, which if successfully
passed, gave the seeker power to communicate with the spirit world.
Small wonder that I was strongly set against this perilous and utterly
foolish thing. But I found the next day Sonnlein was stubbornly resolved
he would undergo it; and though I had great comfort in the thought that
it wanted some months ere May were here, yet, even this solace was
quickly denied me, as he declared his intention of suffering the
purification at once. To this even our poor, benighted Brother Benno
objected, for he held that the slightest deviation from the prescribed
particulars of the process would render the whole without avail.
But as Sonnlein declared he would go off in the woods and take the
ordeal himself--and I knew in his sicklied state he would do so--Brother
Benno and I finally compromised with the stubborn youth by going to
"Ararat," the second floor of Zion, where Sonnlein took one of the
thirteen cells for himself while Brother Benno and I each took an
adjoining cell.
Here in this deserted old chapter house, relic of the pride and folly of
the poor Eckerlings, we lived all alone for almost a week, and never in
my life was week longer; for though Brother Benno and I attended all the
services, yet the solicitude of the Brothers and Sisters was such--they
believing that we had moved Sonnlein to the hill for purer air in his
illness--that Brother Benno and I were not permitted to do any of our
usual work.
This, indeed, suited our purpose most opportunely, for Brother Benno
desired to keep constant watch over the treatment, while I was resolved
to keep strict watch over my boy's safety.
Thus the first day, the second, and the third and even the fourth, and
the fifth day passed, during all of which I was not permitted once to
see my boy. Nor did I even hear anything, for Brother Benno and Sonnlein
dared not so much as exchange a word. Only that on every opportunity I
would seek Brother Benno and in a whisper, so my boy could not hear,
would I get report of him, Brother Benno invariably saying Sonnlein was
a most obedient votary and that he was in good health, though weak. Thus
I allowed myself to become a sharer in this wicked thing.
But on the night of the fifth day, after coming from our midnight
devotions, Brother Benno having given me his usual favorable report, I
sought repose in my cell, though it seemed as I lay awake for a long
time I could hear Sonnlein turning uneasily in his cell and murmuring
continually in a great fever. Then for a long while all was quiet only
that I thought I could hear him breathing heavily in his sleep.
Reassured by this I dropped off into a heavy sleep, for in my anxiety I
had kept vigil in my _Kammer_ almost every night. It seemed to me I had
not slept long, but I know now I slept almost until daybreak, when in my
sleeping I heard a rumbling like thunder and then as a flash of
lightning illumined my narrow cell, followed closely by a crash of
thunder--for such storms have we at times even in winter--I jumped up
fully awake and shaking like a leaf, though I never feared much the
noise of thunder. And then without knowing what I was doing and heedless
of Brother Benno's injunctions, I rushed into Sonnlein's cell, my heart
almost standing still as I noted in all the darkness that he was gone!
I rushed madly for Brother Benno's cell, but my agitated steps had
roused him from his slumber, and as I met him in the corrider I clutched
him so that he shrank from me in fear as I howled at him, "Sonnlein, my
boy, where is he?" and then ere my startled brother could reply I heard
from down the meadows, mingling with the crashing and rumbling of the
thunder Sonnlein's voice crying out again and again, "Genoveva!
Genoveva!"
I know not how I got out of Zion or whether or not Brother Benno was
following as I darted down the hill for the Cocalico, once in a flash of
lightning imagining I saw my boy plunge into the creek for the other
side. But though I ran to the spot in all the darkness and the storm and
though I rushed wildly through the stream, and into the woods on the
farther side, all the while crying out his name, I had no reply, and at
last feeling now as though I had indeed more than I could bear, I
returned half-dazed to my cell in Bethania, not wishing ever again to
set foot in that house of evil on the hill.
Brother Benno informed all the Brothers and the Sisters that Sonnlein
had wandered away in his sickness and though everybody in the Kloster
and also the good neighbors sought most earnestly and lovingly, even
wading the icy creek for him, thinking most likely he had been drowned,
naught of anything was found of my boy.