THE OUTLINES OF A GREAT PLAN
The next day Franka asked Dr. Fixstern what had become of the ring that
her grandfather had left to Herr Helmer ... whether it had been as yet
delivered. Dr. Fixstern replied that the jewel was still in his
possession.
“Then please give it to me and write Mr. Helmer to come here; I should
like to hand him his legacy myself.”
A few days later, Franka chanced to be alone, Frau Eleonore having gone
out to make some purchases, and was again engaged in turning over the
leaves of her father’s notebooks, when Chlodwig Helmer was announced.
“Miss Garlett, you sent for me?”
“Yes, Mr. Helmer. I wanted to see you.... Will you not come nearer?... I
have something to put into your hands.”
She went to her writing-table where the box with the ring was lying.
“You see, my grandfather intended this for you as a remembrance, and I
felt it important to deliver it to you myself.”
Franka spoke with a rather unsteady voice, for she was conscious that
she was not speaking the absolute truth. She did not regard the personal
transfer of the ring as so important, and what had been the motive of
her summoning the young man had been the wish—it was almost a
longing—for his presence, as if she might find in him a refuge, a
support, a defense! He who cherished ideas very similar to those that
were expressed in those notebooks—he who had, so to speak, uttered his
command to do the “something great” for which her inmost being
yearned—he might be able to show her the way....
Helmer took the ring and put it on his finger. “This will always be a
doubly cherished remembrance—I had a very high regard for Count Sielen.
He was a dear man, a noble mind ... and that you, yourself, Fräulein
Franka...” he hesitated.
“Come, let us sit down and talk about my grandfather. You knew him much
longer than I did.”
The conversation stretched out for half an hour without Franka’s being
able to muster courage to direct it to the subject which was uppermost
in her mind. They talked about the late count, about the life at the
Sielenburg, about what had happened since that time, but not a word was
said about what both were thinking. Each was regarding and studying the
other as they talked, and each might have observed that their thoughts
were not on what they were saying.
Franka’s eyes rested inquisitively on Chlodwig—had he written the
letters or not? His exterior appearance seemed changed; was he
unprepossessing? Had she ever really thought him so? And yet certainly
no one could call him handsome; his clean-shaven face was too lean, his
chin too long, his lips too thin; but if he was decidedly not handsome,
his features were certainly interesting. Franka also noticed something
which she had not observed at Sielenburg: Chlodwig had particularly
expressive hands—narrow, white, well cared for, not at all effeminately
soft—on the contrary, quite powerful; and everything which their
possessor said was emphasized by these hands with quick and peculiarly
vivacious gestures; these were aristocratic hands, full of character.
Chlodwig also contemplated his companion. Franka seemed to him slightly
altered. The somewhat childlike expression which had formerly
characterized her features, and which even now came evanescently into
them when she smiled, had given way to a more serious and energetic
expression—she seemed to him more womanly, more mature.
After half an hour Chlodwig got up: “I fear that I have stayed too long.
Accept my thanks again, Fräulein Franka, and permit me to say good-bye.”
“No, no, sit down again; I have something else that I want to talk with
you about.”
Helmer obeyed. A short pause ensued.
Franka was trying to find the right words to begin with. Then with
sudden resolution: “Did you write me two letters?”
Chlodwig’s cheeks grew red as fire. “Yes,” he answered.
“I knew it.”
“Forgive the form which....”
“Never mind the form; the substance is important to me. You gave me some
advice—you almost laid down the law, and I should like to do what you
demand of me; only you must say what ... how! I must become great, at
least, attempt to do something great. What do you consider me capable of
doing? What do you consider great? Instead of vague words, I desire to
hear from you some definite, tangible, feasible scheme.”
Chlodwig’s eyes beamed with delight. “Really, you will....”
“Yes. An enormous property has fallen into my possession ... that
pledges me ... what ought I to do, what can I do, apart from so-called
charity?”
“What can you do? In order to answer that, I must know you better, Miss
Franka; I must measure the flying capacity of your soul. The young girl
to whom I wrote was more a vision of my fancy than of my experience.
What do I know of your real nature, of your views, of your ideals, your
powers?”
“I believe I have the same ideals as you have, Mr. Helmer; otherwise
your letters would not have awakened an echo in my soul—and as to my
views?” She took up from the table the notebooks in which she had just
been reading and handed them to Helmer. “Glance over these notes ...
they are extracts from the thoughts of my father and instructor, who
tried to form me after his own model. You will find ideas and
expressions like those in your own letters. And, look, these are my
favorite books.” She directed his attention to a book-rack which hung on
the wall behind her writing-table. “They came from my father’s library,
and they are the fountains from which he nourished my mind. My father’s
ideas and yours are in accordance—so, Chlodwig Helmer, in spirit we are
brother and sister....”
At this moment Frau Eleonore entered the room without knocking. She had
several packages in her hands: “Here I am, dear Franka. Forgive me if I
was gone too long....”
The two others both thought simultaneously, “Not long enough!”
Franka introduced her caller. Frau Eleonore shook hands with him and
then began to undo her packages. “Please look, dear Franka, and see if
these are the right kind.”
Helmer in the mean time was doing as he had been bidden: he glanced
through the notebooks and examined the volumes. Then he came back to
Franka and said:—
“May I go now? As soon as you send me word, I will be at your service
again.”
“And will you give me the answer which I desired just now? I mean that
concrete plan....”
“Will you permit me, in the mean time to lay before you in writing, not
the whole plan, but only the sketch of it, in broad lines?”
“As you please ... that will make the third letter in my collection.
Very good, then, I will expect the broad lines. The details afterwards,
by word of mouth. _Auf wiedersehen_, Herr Helmer!”
“Who is that young man?” asked Frau Eleonore, after the door had closed
behind Chlodwig.
“A signpost at the crossing of the ways.”
“What? I did not understand you.”
“It is not necessary.”
“Not a suitor—I hope?”
“No, God forfend!”
Franka was not kept waiting long for Chlodwig’s letter. She opened it
with eagerness and read:—
The third letter in the collection. So, then, it must be written in
the same tone as the first and the second—from soul to soul. I will
not begin with the formal “Gnädiges Fräulein” ... that expression we
will leave for verbal intercourse, but with “Franka” again, and the
confidential “Du.” We are brother and sister in spirit—you said so,
yourself.
Now, then,—the plan in broad outline: you ought to be the proclaimer
of a women’s gospel—the field-marshal of a feminine crusade of
conquest. Mankind from now on is facing mighty tasks which it can
accomplish only when its two halves grasp and fulfill these tasks.
“All hands on deck” is the cry at sea at critical moments, and when
the ship “Mankind” is staggering on mountainous billows, then all
hands must be at their posts. My conviction that we are now, at this
very moment, at the beginning of a fateful revolution is founded on
the unheard-of marvel: a man can fly! His artificial wings have
conquered the tempest! His war-cry must henceforth be “Up and away!”
in all fields of activity. Active service in the heights devolves upon
him, and woman is not exempted from this duty of service. The
awakening call must rouse her also, and I look upon you as the one to
give the alarm.
Perhaps you imagine that I am asking you to become a militant
feminist, to form a new Women’s Union and join your forces with the
already widespread, and to a certain extent successful, endeavors to
gain for women the right to play the same part in the academic and
political arena as men do. As a goal the doctor’s cap, public offices,
“Votes for Women.” This movement may go its own way. I have no notion
of putting any limit to it. But what I have in mind is something quite
different—the new woman is not to strive for the masculine positions
and functions in the State which we men have created for ourselves;
not the appropriation of those masculine qualities which are required
for the political game as we men play it; least of all, the attainment
of the privilege of libertinism, in accordance with which we men live;
but she is to help in the construction of a State, of a political
machine, of a manner of life, worthy of noble women sharing in it.
To this end, in the first place, it behooves women not to stand aloof;
not to remain in ignorance of the machinery of the State, of the
complicated intrigues and hidden wires of politics, of the laws which
rule economic and social life. Secondly, they must cultivate to their
richest flowering the virtues that are regarded as specifically
feminine,—kindness, purity, tenderness,—so that when they enter public
life, this also may be permeated with those qualities. They will serve
an ethical State—they will practice ethical politics. They will then
be the most devoted colleagues to those men who even now are setting
up an ethical ideal for State and politics, and who are attacking the
firmly intrenched error, that State and politics stand on the other
side of morals,—a fatal error—for it is responsible for the condition
of ignorance, of enmity, and of barbarism from which poor humanity has
up to the present been suffering. To be sure, it has already made
considerable progress—though slowly—from that aboriginal barbarism;
the domain of security and solidarity has gradually been enlarged. But
this “gradually” can no longer satisfy us to-day, when the electric
spark can be flashed from the Eiffel Tower to the Statue of Liberty.
To crawl forward, to climb up—that no longer belongs to our age, now
that we have learned to mount on wings. Up yonder we need no winged
devils to scatter melinite on our habitations; our greatest haste is
to become human:—therefore, “All hands on deck!” Therefore, whoever
feels himself under a pledge to accomplish something great must
trumpet forth the alarm to awaken all the powers of reason and good
will that are still slumbering.
And in what way, Franka, do I feel sure you are bound to summon your
sisters? By taking part in the Woman Movement? That I have already
answered in the negative. By means of a book? Alas! how few read
books! No, through the living word, through the magic, the magnetism,
of personality, the might of individual enthusiasm. I see you standing
on the platform, your “Walküren” fire under control of maidenly
dignity, worshipful as a priestess, glorified like a seeress....
Let me tell you: I was still a very young boy when I received a deep
and overpowering impression from such a priestly speaker, but who was
not a priest,—he was a soldier,—Moritz von Egidy, a Prussian colonel
of hussars. He had begun by writing a book, called “Earnest Thoughts,”
and at the same time they were free thoughts. That was not regarded as
compatible with discipline and he was obliged to resign from the army.
His leading motive was: “Religion not as a part of our life, but our
life as religion.” What he meant by religion was nothing dogmatic,
only ethical. He had attained that idea by earnest thoughts, and he
proposed to bring his contemporaries to a similar view by earnest
willing! In almost all the German cities he gave public addresses with
unexampled success. The largest halls in which he spoke were packed to
suffocation and thundered with sympathetic applause.
The effect was tremendous. Soon Egidy congregations began to be
formed. But all too quickly he was struck down by death. What he
thought, what he preached,—never in an unctuous, clerical tone, but
with the military voice of command,—I need not tell you here. I only
wished to bring him up as an example—for such is the kind of work
which it seems to me you ought to undertake: teacher, leader,
prophetess, you must be! Unendingly rich can be the blessing flowing
from your activity.
I imagine this influence as simply overpowering. You would be the
first and only person who ever came forward in such a way. Never
before was there a young maiden who attempted such a thing, and the
magic of youth and beauty will magnify tenfold the might of personal
magnetism. Your great property and your position in the world will
give you the opportunity of carrying out your scheme without any
material difficulty—you can engage the largest hall in every
city—entrance free to every one ... off the stage you will appear the
great lady that you are.
Independent, beyond criticism, famous (you would be famous in the very
shortest time),—admired and honored, you would be able everywhere to
gather around you the heads of society and there use your influence.
You yourself would grow by your own work—the higher you try to fly,
the greater will be your ability to use your wings, and the traces of
your spirit will be visible in the moral progress of this generation
and of those to come. I do not say this to stimulate your ambition,
but to strengthen your spirit of sacrifice, for I know already that
your desire is to accomplish something noble, and to do that, you must
be prepared for many troubles and must renounce much. Like the Maid of
Orleans, you must crush your own impulses and desires under your coat
of mail. For if you should give your heart and hand to any man, it
would be all up with your independence. And, moreover, even if your
chosen one should admit of your independence, it would be all up with
the magic influence. For at least a decade you ought to devote
yourself entirely to your task.
You cannot begin immediately, not to-morrow. You must have some time
for preparation, for growth, for study. A quiet novitiate before the
dedication; and because your position conditions your prestige, you
must first make your position solid. You must win the respect of high
society; you must win general admiration and consideration. At your
very first appearance on the platform, it must be known, to all the
city and to the world, that the person who is going to deliver the
lecture is the celebrated and beautiful young heiress of the Count
Sielen’s estates, honored because of her generous expenditures and
reputed to have refused many advantageous offers;—then the hall for
the very first time will be taken by storm. And in order that the
technical side be not neglected, you must have taken instruction in
the art of elocution, in the modulating of your voice.
I have finished. I have really done more than lay down the outlines of
the plan—I have also indicated some of the details.
Now you can test yourself; you can demand of your desires, of your
conscience, whether a way has been indicated and whether you will
follow it.