UNDER THE PEAR TREE.
Kuhl was no friend of betrothal and marriage feasts; he thought such
customs should be left to the savage races of people. For educated
human beings it was most unseemly to announce such quiet secret
happiness to towns and villages as if with the beating of drums. That
eccentric man, therefore, experienced deep dissatisfaction at the
festive mood in which all Neukuhren rejoiced on his friend's betrothal
day, and sought the most lonely paths on the strand in order to escape
the noise of preparations and arrangements. This was not easy; for the
great kettle-drum having once been called into requisition, it shook
the atmospherical waves on every side at the incessant musical
rehearsals, and strove to out-do the roaring of the billows.
That Cäcilie should also take part in these rehearsals, and probably
practise her vocal solo with Wegen, did not conduce to improve his
humour. He had become more indifferent to Olga during those days; was
he not certain of her love. She was all devotion, and, as of old, had
an approving smile for his most daring flights of thought; but that
fugitive, smooth as an eel, occupied all his thoughts, and strengthened
the ill-temper to which he gave himself up so recklessly.
Wegen meanwhile was ubiquitous; now he sat at the piano and accompanied
Cäcilie, then he stood by the carts full of evergreens and overlooked
the decorations of the room. The Chief Forester, who was a friend of
Blanden's, and who was expected on that evening, had proved himself
particularly helpful in supplying garlands of leaves and flowers. Then
again Wegen, with a powerful telling tenor, gave decision and firmness
to the choruses, and during the pauses he might be seen outside under
the pear tree where he had the nature's carpet of the dancing ground
swept by the fair sex of the village. The entire programme of the
entertainment lay in his hands, he was assisted in the arrangements by
the future diplomatist, who, as Wegen's aide-de-camp, sped hither and
thither in equally feverish activity.
The physician declared himself to be perfectly satisfied with the
weather; steady, immovable sunshine was extended over land and sea, and
similar excellent intentions might be expected of the full moon. And
like the sky, Müller von Stallupönen displayed a contented smile the
livelong day. The orchestra surpassed all anticipation, and even the
second violins, whose notes were always dragging behind the rest, had
gradually settled down into correct time. The vocal choruses also
roused the master's satisfaction, but this had not been attained
without dogged interference with the rights of personal liberty. A
first lieutenant's widow and an unmarried young lady of noble birth in
the neighbourhood, whose love for the glorious art of song was an
unhappy one, had proved themselves impervious to the whole _crescendo_
of insults which had been rained upon them from the conductor's desk,
and continued with lamentable obstinacy to sow the tares of false notes
amongst the wheat of the otherwise superb choral singing. No other
means remained but to have recourse to violent measures, and to exclude
the two ladies positively from the body of musical members. They deemed
it impossible to survive this insult in Neukuhren, and on the same
afternoon they migrated to the neighbouring watering-place Rauschen,
and in such haste that the first lieutenant's widow actually forgot to
pay her bills.
Professor Baute's poodle had caused another disturbance; when
accompanied by his master, he had attended one of the rehearsals, at
the room door he suddenly began to bark, and indeed with all the
eagerness of an art-enthusiast. Baute pacified him for a time, but as
the dog again unbridled his enthusiasm, the director made a deferential
observation, which obliged the poodle and his master to leave the room
door. This was very disagreeable for the professor, as he was just
engaged in an examination as to which series of ideas were awakened by
music in an animal's soul, thus causing the dog to bark.
The excitement in Neukuhren, and the want of time were so great that on
this day even sea bathing was forgotten. The bathing-woman could record
that with the exception of Fräulein Olga von Dornau, who did not permit
herself to be disturbed in her habits of life, and would not be
deprived of such daily strengthening of her immaculate health for the
most important occurrences, not one woman plunged into the waves of the
East Sea on that day.
Evening drew on, the full moon's pale outlines in the sky gained a
clearer form as the sun went down, from a cloud it became a planet. The
room resembled a meadow, upon which had bloomed the gayest field and
woodland flowers mostly in light colours, the Baute family especially
appeared like a prismatic rainbow.
Light summer robes, and rigorous ball dresses floated about amongst one
another; Olga wore a ball dress that was cut out in Court style, and
displayed her voluptuous beauty; Cäcilie on the other hand a summer
dress close to the neck, but which, however, displayed her excessively
slight waist most daintily.
The Chief Forester created some sensation amongst the guests by his
giant form and abundant white moustache. Although he was well up in
years, he carried himself with military erectness, and the powerful
tone of his voice awoke the envy of all the basses in the chorus.
Blanden had greeted him with special cordiality, for the latter had
been his father's dearest friend. The young man looked with emotion at
the worthy forest official's grey head, he felt as though the former
represented his father to-day, and shook him congratulatorily by the
hand. Already during the afternoon Professor Baute had contemplated
with great interest the huge bull-dog which the Chief Forester brought
with him, and with his hero's assistance had made its acquaintance. He
had already noted several particular tokens of intelligence, for the
bull-dog clearly occupied a higher position in the scale of animal's
souls than his own poodle.
Wegen had caused a couple of garlanded chairs to be placed upon a small
daïs for the betrothed couple; the other guests sat beside it--elderly
gentlemen and ladies and all those who lacked the muse of the art of
sweet sounds.
Eva, accompanied by her adopted parents, appeared in a simple blue
dress, a wreath of wild flowers in her hair, and amongst them gleamed
the bells of the campanula. What a contrast between her dress and the
townish splendour with which Frau Kalzow had decked herself, even
several doubtful diamonds were not missing. The satin rustled around
her stalwart but bony form, as if in wondering amazement, and as though
it did not belong to her. The old Regierungsrath had brought out his
stiffest neckcloth at the same time as his most solemn demeanour; every
movement told how nearly this festivity concerned him, and what
reflected rays of importance it shed upon his poor self. But it was not
merely in her simple dress that Eva's beauty possessed such a touching
charm. Intense mournfulness that alternated with suddenly aroused
eagerness overspread her countenance. She had been expecting her
mother's arrival during the whole day, she had rushed in feverish haste
to the window as each carriage drove up to the Kursaal, and the
futility of this incessant agitation acted depressingly and
paralysingly at last, so that several times she burst into tears. Frau
Kalzow consoled her with saying her mother might still come; she was
written to punctually, and at the proper time, it was possible that the
letter by some mischance might not have arrived equally punctually. She
did not dare to think of any illness, they would surely have received
the intelligence by writing. Nevertheless, to the bride the whole
betrothal ceremony appeared upset and saddened by her mother's absence.
The good wishes of her women friends offered little compensation for
it, they were mostly but the friends of yesterday. Kanzleirath's Minna
spoke hers really most honestly; she liked Blanden, too, but she was
too phlegmatic to be jealous, and too good natured not to give her best
wishes to every bride upon her path through life.
The room had filled, the village inhabitants pressed around the open
doors, some of the village beauties were invited to the dance beneath
the pear tree. The orchestra commenced the overture to _Der
Freischütz_. While one portion of the householders and fishermen of the
place listened attentively to the music, the others were drawn away by
an unhoped for distraction, because in the garden outside, Doctor Kuhl
amused himself in making Nero and the Forester's bull-dog compete in
jumping over tables and benches, while he declined the delights of the
music in a defiant manner. Only when the spirit-like tremolo of the
"Waldschlucht" had died away and a voice began to sing the Erl-king to
a pianoforte accompaniment, did Kuhl push a table outside against the
window, spring on to it with both dogs, and between the poodle and
bull-dog listened devoutly to his Cäcilie's song, for it was she who,
accompanied by Wegen, executed Schubert's entrancing melody with more
passion than he had given her credit for. When the orchestra then
played Haydn's Symphony in C sharp, Kuhl sprang down again from his
improvised opera-box, and indulged in gymnastic amusements such as are
seen at fairs and annual markets, gradually drawing the interest of the
public standing outside completely away from the dream world of music.
Even the choruses of Mendelssohn's songs, "Come fly with me and be my
wife," and "There fell a frost at midnight's hour," could only rouse
the athletic doctor to momentary attention. "That Müller von
Stallupönen," he muttered to himself, "has already let a frost at
midnight fall upon the flowers of the betrothal-day; what icy cold will
reign later on at that hour!"
Eva sat, stirred with silent emotion, on the decorated chair. So often
as the door was opened, when a late comer arrived, she turned her
glance in that direction, and sprang up from her seat several times, as
if she expected to greet her mother in each lady who entered. Blanden
even perceived her agitation; he enquired its cause, but she did not
venture to confess to him that even on this day she still yearned for
another person, for her mother. Had he not listened very indifferently
to a conversation in which she mentioned her mother, and, as it
appeared, had intentionally broken it off; yes, a friend even told her
she had heard him say to Doctor Kuhl, when passing by, he had quite
enough with one mother-in-law.
At the conclusion, Müller von Stallupönen had arranged for an overture
of his own composition to be performed by his orchestra. What young
composer would allow such a rare opportunity to escape of calling his
musical conceptions into life with real instruments? Blanden and Eva
thanked him politely for that symphony which, from henceforth, he
christened the "Betrothal symphony," and intended to issue to the world
under that title. The audience of visitors had applauded briskly, it is
true, but had really found the deep thoughtfulness of the composition
very tedious. The unlearned lovers of music especially wondered at it;
they like to carry some tune home with them. For the abundant
counter-point and fugues which worked most artistically into and
amongst one another, debarred any one from reaching the enjoyment of
that transitory and despised foam which many half-cultivated people
designate as melody, and which they would gladly extract as easily
gained from the vast undulations of a musical genius penetrating into
the depths.
Now a brilliant entertainment commenced; Blanden and Wegen did the
honours. Eva sat beside Cäcilie, to whom she confidentially
communicated her hopes and fears; that astute Fräulein von Dornau was
not at a loss for reasons with which to pacify the betrothed.
Nevertheless, the latter could not attain a happy state of mind.
"Just look at Evchen," said Lori to her sister Euphrasia. "Does not the
poor child glance incessantly at the door, as if she expected a ghost,
or some former lover, who would put his veto upon this new betrothal?"
"Indeed, in this mixed company," said Euphrasia, "one might easily
imagine oneself transported to a Polish diet, where such 'vetoes' are
the order of the day."
"Cäcilie comforts the poor child," said Lori. "She reposes upon her
laurels. Did you not remark how, when performing the Erl-king, she
looked down upon Herr von Wegen's rather light-coloured head, and with
peculiar fervour, at the words: 'I love you; I'm charmed with your
beautiful form?'"
"Olga," said Emma, "meanwhile enjoys herself intensely at the
supper-table; she has drawn her chair as closely as possible to the
roasted capercailzie, and does her duty by the sweets."
"I believe," said Lori, "that girl has really no soul; she is an
Undine, but of that vigorous species which is only to be found
splashing about at sea-side watering-places. Her body is a dense veil
that hangs around her soul."
"This is a very democratic affair," said the Regierungsrath, as he
pledged the Kreisgerichtsrath in a glass of Madeira. "My son-in-law
enjoys that; I do not like losing myself thus amongst subordinates."
"My old friend," replied the other, "what harm have those two innocent
Secretaries, who enjoy their life here, done to you? You can never take
the cap-button, of which Herr von Blanden told us so amusingly, with
you into the bath below."
"You are an incorrigible democrat," replied Kalzow, annoyed.
Spirits still rose; the attornies begged the young ladies for dances
under the pear tree. One of them had invited the seven Fräuleins von
Baute, one after another, and had their names written down upon his
dancing-card; his friends designated him the possessor of the seven
evil spirits.
Father Baute, meanwhile, had forced young Doctor Reising into a corner,
and declared to him, with elevated champagne glass, that he now boldly
challenged the latter to any discussion, as his ideas stepped more
briskly than ever across the threshold of consciousness, while Reising,
on the contrary, also excited by wine, protested in permitting himself
the daring utterance that consciousness has no threshold, because it
has not been made by any carpenter, and indeed that mode of
philosophising always caused him to imagine himself transported to some
mental timber yard, as, for example, when the formation of ideas was
talked of.
But the Professor became beside himself; with a wide sweeping movement,
he dashed the champagne glass into pieces against the wall.
"You say that to a disciple of Herbart; incredible!"
Reising, who had long since been shocked at his own daring, hardly knew
how to shield himself from the Professor's furious wrath.
Euphrasia, whose entire future threatened to fall into broken
potsherds, approached the opponents, wringing her hands.
Doctor Kuhl's interposition was more powerful; he thrust his Herculean
form between them.
"Peace, sirs! '_In vino veritas_? said one Roman; but 'what is truth!'
said another Roman. Here there is certainly no time to fathom it. Look,
Fräulein Euphrasia appears as an angel of peace; true womanliness was
even able to redeem a thinker like Faust. Let the flag of peace be
waved! We will drink to an alliance between Hegel and Herbart. Neither
Napoleon nor German philosophy ever recognised anything to be
impossible."
The Kursaal, like Westminster Abbey, possessed a Poet's Corner in which
the admired poet, Schöner, was obliged to permit himself to be
instructed by the school-boy, Salomon, on several important questions
concerning the art of poesy. Salomon had strengthened the consciousness
of his intellectual superiority with several glasses of champagne, and
could not resist pointing out to Poet Schöner, despite all recognition
of his talents, that political lyrics were an unlawful hermaphrodite
species of poetry, inasmuch as one is always led away to subjects about
which leading articles appear in the newspapers. What a totally
different influence a song of Heine or Eichendorff possesses: "_In
einem kühlen Grunde, da geht ein Mühlenrad_."
"The mill wheel in the cool valley, my friend," said Schöner, as he
patted the young connoisseur upon his shoulders with the air of a
protector, "goes round in our heads too long already, and the German
people become so stupid with all that folly, so stupid--let us drink to
your well-being, young poet!"
The glasses clinked. Immediately afterwards both poets relapsed into
deep silence, for each mutely recited the verses which he intended to
declaim under the pear tree. There the betrothal should be proclaimed
before all the assembly, and then only Schöner and Salomon proposed
bringing their Pegasus into action in the arena.
Wegen announced to the hero of the day that all was in readiness
outside. Indeed, merry sounds of village music soon made themselves
heard, which several amateurs and the big kettle drum had joined in the
highest spirits.
The village population moved merrily about. Beside the flags of the
village school, others fluttered, which the watering-place visitors had
hastily improvised. Yes, Doctor Kuhl had even requisitioned the large
one which was hoisted in order to prohibit bathing when the sea was
tempestuous, and this flag, which he never respected, he now bore with
Herculean strength before the procession. The latter had soon been got
into order. Behind Kuhl came the musicians, who had been joined by
numerous girls from the village, with wreaths and garlands. Then
followed the betrothed couple, behind them the parents, then Wegen with
Cäcilie, Reising with Euphrasia, and other pairs, just as they chanced
to find themselves together, or according to previous agreement had
joined one another. Singing merry popular songs, the sailors and
fishermen, with wives and daughters, followed in a noisy throng.
Thus the procession moved towards the big pear tree. The light of the
full moon lay upon the sea and the shore, the sky was glittering with
stars, the sounds of music awoke the distant echoes.
Eva leaned against Blanden in a feeling of silent beatitude, such as
she had not known during the whole day; now she thought only of her
beloved one and the future; in that moment she forgot her mother! Was
not all the rejoicing of these jubilant beings meant for her alone; in
honour of her happiness the music rang, the flags waved--all was
festively adorned.
"Oh, my beloved," she said to Blanden, "to you I owe all this bliss! We
will be happy, as happy for ever, as at this moment."
"My sweet girl!" replied Blanden, pressing her to his heart, "I, too,
feel now as if there were no discords upon earth--despite the village
music," added he, with that variable humour, the play of whose thoughts
he could never control. "But, indeed, nothing is so touching as the
people's pleasure, however it may express itself. So much sadness lies
concealed behind this joy; all the labour of dull, dreary days, all the
struggle to make life bearable for themselves, so much external want,
and many an internal grief, which affects them doubly painfully in that
want. What, in comparison, is the delusive happiness of a joyous
moment? And because this happiness is short and delusive, it disposes
one to sadness."
"Why these melancholy thoughts?" said Eva, "why think of others to-day?
We will care for them all our life, mitigate every want, whenever we
encounter them--this I have vowed to myself; but, on this one day, we
have the right to think only of ourselves, to give ourselves up alone
to the feeling of blissful enjoyment."
"That will we; you are right! Do I not hear, amidst the loud music, the
quiet blue forest bells ring harmoniously, fairy-like, my lovely
campanula! It is a wedding-march of the elves, that only my ear
perceives, for what does the world comprehend of the midsummer night's
dream that we dream together?"
Meanwhile, the procession had arrived at the pear tree, and merry tunes
were played upon the dancing ground above which the moon's rays
flickered.
Village beauties and lady visitors whirled round in gay confusion; even
father Baute joined the dances, while Reising, uninitiated in that art,
leaned somewhat annoyedly against the old tree's stem. In vain
Euphrasia and her six sisters invited him to dance, and Lori and the
little ones could not suppress a few ill-natured remarks, which were
pointed at the young philosopher's awkwardness.
Blanden perceived, with supreme satisfaction, that the old Chief
Forester opened the dance with Eva; that worthy man, with silvery beard
and the iron cross upon his breast, gave to Blanden's young love the
blessing of the older generation, which, in his own house had become
extinct.
But for his present struggles, this venerable man was a beautiful
example. Even if he could not attain the fearlessness of such a
sterling nature after spending his life in such wild storms, he could
strive to follow it in steady labour and work, and, like the Forester
in his calling, stand firmly in doing active good.
The music made a pause. Kalzow cleared his throat; he felt that the
moment for the announcement of the betrothal had arrived. Arm in arm,
Blanden and Eva were still resting from the last dance. Then the gentle
roll of wheels upon the soft grass roused their attention. A carriage
drew up; a lady descended and approached the dancing ground through the
opening rows of people.
A white veil, which intercepted the moonlight in a spectre-like manner,
still concealed her features.
Eva's heart beat violently, she released herself from her future
bridegroom's arms, and extended her own to the strange figure.
There could be no doubt; she it was, who was expected so ardently. Then
the stranger threw back her veil; the moon lay full upon refined but
ghastly pale features. Two large eyes, dimmed with tears, rested with
intense pain, like two stars of evil boding, upon the youthful,
beautiful form that hastened to meet her with all the eagerness of
love.
Soon Eva lay upon her mother's heart; in intense rapture, both forgot
the staring crowd.
"How beautiful you have become!" whispered the mother, as she stroked
her daughter's hair and cheeks, buried herself in those gazelle-like
eyes, encircled that slender waist with her arms, "and taller than I!"
"And you still look so young, dear mother, you might be my sister."
"I am rather late. An accident befell the carriage; it broke a wheel. I
still do not know whether I come to you with a blessing or a curse."
"A curse, mother?" Eva asked fearfully.
"And yet--that one went away, far away into the world," said she, as if
speaking to herself. "The family is large; they are the same names."
Meanwhile, Kalzow had drawn near, and received his sister with a solemn
embrace, while Miranda contented herself with offering the tips of her
right hand fingers in sisterly welcome.
Blanden had vouchsafed less attention to this meeting than might have
been expected.
He had once entertained unorthodox views about mothers-in-law; would
neither disturb the daughter's nor the relatives' greeting, and,
remaining averted, he conversed with Doctor Kuhl, who had just emptied
a glass of punch, upon the strengthening properties of that beverage.
Thereupon, Eva went towards him, leading her mother by the hand.
"Max, my mother," said she, as she now left her mother and stood beside
her lover.
She was about to utter his name, when the word died upon her lips.
Pale as death, with an expression of infinite pain, the mother swooned.
Dr. Kuhl caught her in his arms, for Blanden stood as if motionless,
staring at what seemed incredible to him. For a moment it appeared to
him as if the sky, with all its stars, danced above him; as if this
assembly adorned with flags, ribbons and garlands, was but a mirage,
gliding down from out the clouds, and this strange, veiled, unconscious
figure a ghost, that filled his soul with a shudder from the grave.
But though it all came over him with thoughts following quickly as
lightning, like boundless pain, as though a yawning cleft went through
his whole life--as though a ghost-like hand were thrusting him back
when he hoped to attain peaceful bliss, and like the pressure of an
ever-tightening rack, the thought suffused his whole soul that his
betrothal was impossible.
And it was that, which the weak woman now raising herself, seemed to
whisper into her brother's ear, who started back as if stung by an
adder.
Tortured with unutterable fear, Eva hastened to and fro. Was that still
the same glittering starlit sky, and the same moon-illumined world,
still the same joyfully-excited crowd? The only sad secret of her life
had risen up in all its magnitude, darkening everything, and casting
unholy shadows upon the happiness of her love. The festive music, the
merry circling dance, seemed to her like mockery. With ready presence
of mind, Dr. Kuhl had given the signal for it to re-commence, so as not
to interrupt the entertainment, and to conceal behind the enjoyment of
the many, that mysterious, crushing occurrence.
"To-morrow, my daughter, to-morrow," said her mother, "to-day, I am
ill, and will seek my room."
Eva looked round, as if imploring aid; all were silent on every side,
and looked upon the ground; Blanden, too, was mute; not one comforting
word that the betrothal should still be promulgated.
Was it then possible? Was it she herself--she--Eva Kalzow, the heroine
of that day, the object of the congratulations, the fêted one, who must
shrink away from this feast like a criminal, into whose face was cast
the bridal wreath which had been snatched from her? What dishonourable
deed had she committed? Did she not stand there as if in a pillory?
Did they not smile scornfully, maliciously--the seven Fräuleins
Baute--at the interrupted feast? Did not her other female friends
whisper mysteriously with speaking glances?
Impossible--it was a fevered dream, an agonising fevered dream--it
could not be so.
What then has happened? With convulsive terror she thought of
possibility after possibility--nothing remained for her but the dull
weight of dismal, fearful foreboding.
Inquiringly she looked up at Kalzow; he shrugged his shoulders.
It was true, then, she was disgraced before everybody. With a
heartrending cry she sank into her mother's arms.
"I shall follow you, mother!" cried she, in a tone of despairing
resignation.
She turned towards Blanden; he came up to her, pressed her hands--she
saw a tear in his eye.
"Good-night, Eva," said he, with overflowing emotion, in a suffocating
voice.
"Good-night"--she felt as in a dream, where, wandering through
subterranean passages, one door is shut noisily after another, and the
sneck closes clatteringly--ever farther on into the deep abyss of
night.
And no word of elucidation--all shared that secret--all kept silence,
even he--was that his love?
Pressing her hand upon her heart, she followed her mother; she looked
round once more.
There he stood, his tall figure drawn up erectly, his pale face seemed
to quiver with some internal struggle. She forgot her own anguish in
his. It was indeed impossible--he could not be lost to her.
The Kalzows and Blanden remained behind, so as not to interrupt the
entertainment by a general departure. Kuhl had declared upon his honour
that sudden indisposition on the part of the bride's mother had called
the former away. Thus people did not allow themselves to be disturbed
in their enjoyment, the bride was soon forgotten, as she was merely the
chance cause of the gay evening dance. Only the two poets went about in
a melancholy frame of mind; the unspoken verses of their _carmina_
passed in pieces through their minds, and bitter regret for the laurels
which the people of Neukuhren had turned for them, and of which they
had been deprived, eat into their souls.
"What does all this mean?" Kuhl asked his friend.
"Follow me to my room, afterwards," replied Blanden.
Early morning which, on the summer's night, dawned with its first
streaks of red on the horizon, only put an end to the enjoyment of the
dancers.
In the deep silence of that early hour, which brings something
sanctifying with it, after refreshing sleep, something gloomy after a
watchful night, the two friends sat together in a comfortable room,
looking over the wide ocean, whose waves seemed to thrill with kindling
rapture at the first greeting of the young day's orb.
Kuhl had lighted a cigar, and with a cup of Mocca before him, he
listened with unshaken equanimity to the disclosures of his nervously
agitated friend.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 1: A common or moorland covered with heather, merely
so-called in East Prussia.--_Translator's Note_.]
[Footnote 2: The art designation of the Nankin Academy. _Wald_
signifies forest or grove; _Pinsel_ paint-brushes and simpletons: hence
the joke is lost in translation.--_Translator's note_.]
[Footnote 3:
The lark it was, not the nightingale,
Come arise from your quiet-laden slumber,--
The fires are ready on every side,
The sacred fires, without number.]
[Footnote 4: The quotations from Heine are borrowed from E. A.
Bowring's, those from Schiller from Lord Lytton's
translations.--_Translator's Note_.]
END OF VOL. I.
* * * * *
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