"All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts."
--AS YOU LIKE IT.
It was now Winter in Berlin; but the season was much less severe than
on the sea-coast. Did the many closely crowded houses restrain its
power, or did the smoke which curled up from so many thousand
chimneys frighten the wind back to its home-country? Whatever it
was, Wulf had never experienced such warm, mild weather at this
period of the year. From without and within he was so comfortable.
Did he realize that much of this warmth was due to the pleasant
intercourse which had banished his feeling of solitude?
He was standing before a table in his room. Two letters had just
been received. One read: "Herr and Frau Professor Ferri beg the
pleasure of Herr Student Ericksen's presence at an afternoon tea,
with dancing, at eight o'clock, Thursday evening."
The other note was simply: "Frau and Major Von Eckluhn would be
delighted to have you take tea with them to-morrow evening."
At both places Wulf had scarcely made his first call--and already
invitations came! He would not have been human had he felt no
agreeable sensations over so much attention. Besides, he was by far
too well pleased with "society" not to be attracted thither again and
again. At first it had appeared to him only a kind of chaos, veiled
in light and splendor. Gradually emerging out of the confusion of
names and faces, Wulf began to be much attracted and interested in
the distinguished people around him. He began already to speculate
in his own mind whether he should accept this or that invitation;
where he should meet this or that person; and to calculate
accordingly the most favorable outlook for merely an agreeable or a
very delightful evening. Meanwhile invitations multiplied. Wulf
often wondered and asked himself what key had opened to him, an
apparent stranger, the doors of so many distinguished residences. He
never dreamed that rumor had falsely imputed great wealth to him; and
Lady Von Kahring did not contradict it. If she had introduced Wulf,
for her son's sake, she preferred to patronize a rich youth rather
than a poor one. Besides, Wulf's presence was very attractive--only
twenty-one, but exercise, wind, waves, and self-reliance having
externally matured an early manhood, he was really an ornament to any
assemblage. It is said that in England stately-looking military men
are sometimes hired for funerals, christenings, weddings, etc., in
order to give additional _éclat_ to the occasion by their imposing
presence. Is it, after all, very different in so-called society when
a person without merit becomes fashionable for a little while, only
to be cast aside without reason, like the hat of a former season?
Accordingly, here at Berlin, every body in the highest social circles
became duly excited to see and seek after any new-comer who was
ingenuous and entertaining; and Wulf was correspondingly happy over
the attentions received while every thing he did was accepted and
admired, which fact was very pleasing to his _amour propre_. It also
engendered great self-possession of manner; for it is easy to be
amiable when every body is agreeable and kind around us.
Let us accompany Wulf this evening, in order to learn something about
the people with whom he associates.
He has been invited to a reception at the privy counselor's from
Wurzel. His toilet had demanded more care than usual, but it is
fortunate for him that no variety is required in this regard among
gentlemen.
The servants are no longer embarrassing to him by their imposing
behavior; in fact, he scarcely observes them. His first greetings
being over, with quick, eager glance Wulf seeks Fraulein Sibylla Von
Herbig, who, above all others, has made more than a fleeting
impression upon him. His keen eye fails to discover her, and he
stations himself as near as possible to the entrance, to note her
coming. Meanwhile he revolves in his mind the comparative beauty of
all the lively, friendly young ladies present, and continues to
wonder over their luxuriant tresses and stylish, rich costumes. Just
now Fraulein Von Kahring bows to him as to an old acquaintance, and
he hastens toward her as gracefully and securely over the polished
inlaid floor of the drawing-room as if he had always been accustomed
to its smooth surface, and would rather stumble over the rough boards
of a sailor's dwelling. Near Fraulein Von Kahring stands a blonde
young gentleman, who is always to be found beside her or some other
lady at every church, every theater, every fair, every concert, every
party.
"Allow me to present Herr Von Lenkseuring," says Eugenie to Wulf, who
finally learns the name of the gentleman whom he has so often seen
invariably attired in brown pantaloons.
Then Sibylla Von Herbig enters. She is a daughter of the widow Frau
Colonel Von Herbig, and she is always surrounded by a bevy of
admirers. Why are so many attracted to her? Is it her indescribably
beautiful oval face with its southern tint, her raven hair and
brilliant dark eyes, or the animated conversation which she carries
on?
Every one acknowledges her intellectual superiority, and although her
words are often sharp and sarcastic, and at times seem merciless, her
influence is fascinating, for she is never tiresome.
Wulf hastens toward her, but the "greyhound," as Herr Von Lenkseuring
is called, is there before him and says:
"Fraulein Von Herbig, you were not on the ice yesterday. I looked
for you in vain."
"No, I was not there; but the skating was fine?"
"I do not know; I only looked for you."
"I am sorry," replied Sibylla, curtly; "to me the ice is the
principal thing."
Herr Doctor Uhlhart, a young man, thin and ugly as Mephistopheles,
besides being feared on account of his sharp wit, stands near Eugenie
also, and can not forebear addressing a remark to her.
"Fraulein Eugenie, how do you do? How are you enjoying this season?"
"O, I am delighted," replies the young _débutante_. "We are out
constantly; during the past nine days we have attended twelve
parties."
"A multitude of parties, therefore, constitutes the degree of your
happiness," pursues the young doctor, with a bitter laugh.
Eugenie looks up ingenuously.
"And do you not enjoy parties? You are always to be seen everywhere.
Why do you attend them?"
"O, my dear Fraulein, you forget what Goethe says:
'The world is a salmagundi;
We eat it every day and Sunday."
Whether we relish it or not is another question. And, then, I come
here because it amuses me to see how people satisfy themselves with
empty baubles."
Eugenie looked up inquiringly, and was relieved when a lady
approached her, and interrupted the conversation. She did not
understand this young scoffer, whose penetrating eyes pierced her
like a knife; but his quick perception divined her thoughts, and he
withdrew to join Sibylla, whom he had known for a long time, and who,
by virtue of this long acquaintance, permitted him to use with her a
somewhat familiar tone of address.
"Finally," he said with a sigh of relief, as he sank into a chair
beside her, "finally by a human being. For one hour I have aimlessly
floated around in my tub like Diogenes:
'Here it is serious, there it is gay;
Hatred to-morrow where love is to-day;
and still, like Diogenes, I roll around my tub incessantly. O, no
answer? I thought the great Goethe would reply for you."
"You still carry about with you that terrible blade," says Sibylla,
rising; "but listen to what Goethe says in such a case: 'What
satisfies the heart and mind in conversation so much as the noble
soul which speaks through the eyes? Comes to me that one yonder with
spectacles, I am still! still! for I can not talk common sense with
any one through glasses.'"
While Dr. Uhlhart's countenance grows more and more sinister, Sibylla
suddenly observes Wulf standing near. He has overheard her last
expressions and can not forbear laughing heartily. As every natural
laugh is contagious to her, she immediately turns to Wulf, and
Uhlhart walks away, piqued. He is perfectly aware that Sibylla will
tolerate no innuendoes in her presence.
"You are astonished at our book pedantry and quotations?" said
Sibylla. "Ah, well, Dr. Uhlhart and I are somewhat notorious for our
Goethe-ism, which, by the by, is the only thing we do agree in.
During long, tiresome intermissions we amuse ourselves quoting Goethe
to each other. Do you also share in our Goethe worship?"
"Yes, indeed," assented Wulf zealously, inwardly vowing to study the
great poet hence forth more than ever.
"And are you familiar with our current literature--I mean,
especially, the latest?"
"I regret that I am not," confessed Wulf. "My studies, together with
Berlin's innumerable attractions, leave me little time for such
things."
He determined, however, to subscribe at once to the nearest library,
in order to acquaint himself with this field.
"Pity," laughed Sibylla, "great pity! I should like to guess with
you what novel Herr Von Lenkseuring has just read."
"How should we be able to fathom it?" responded Wulf.
"O, very easily. You see, he always deports himself like the hero of
the last book he has read. Now, he is the quiet, thoughtful
observer; then, again, the prude; now enthusiastic from top to toe;
then an especially embittered, misanthropic hypochondriac. He was
most lovely when he had read Freitag's 'Debit and Credit.' Then he
personated Fink--Fink thoroughly--only it was a pity the nature was
wanting to him. But now he must have been reading a romance of
chivalry, where the cavalier hero was perfectly _comme il faut_; for
only see him: he consumes himself in amiability. If he would only
read something else soon! for I am sure he can not hold out very long
in this way."
Wulf laughed so heartily that Sibylla contemplated him with genuine
pleasure.
"But suppose he had no particular favorite, what _rôle_ would he
assume?" inquired Wulf eagerly.
"O, I shall rejoice in the day when he will simply play the
fool--himself," exclaimed Sibylla. "It is all enigmatical to me,"
she continued in playful seriousness, "whether, indeed, all his
heroes invariably wear brown escarpins; for of Herr Von Lenkseuring
it may justly be said: 'Changeable in mind, but true in color.'"
They go to supper. Wulf is happy to escort the beautiful Fraulein
Von Herbig. At her left is seated a wealthy gentleman from the
provinces, Herr Bolton; _vis-á-vis_ Dr. Uhlhart has stationed
himself, with the sword always in his eyes. His neighbor is a rosy
young, bashful, but pretty _ingènue_, Olga Von Steinfels, who has
just made her _entrée_ into society this season.
But the richly laden table, nevertheless, represents a veritable
famine. Nothing there will stimulate any worthy conversation. It is
approached as the _table d'hôte_ of a public inn. People sit beside
one another as strangers. There is no deep tone of interest, no sign
of the true inner life, no pulse-beat of sincere regard. There may
be deep spiritual natures among many of those present, but there is
no outward manifestation of the same. One is beautifully nourished
here upon the superficiality of society's higher grade; one presents
a pleased expression of countenance, is immeasurably friendly toward
others; but not one single golden word will be uttered: all will be
false coinage continually.
Host and hostess are amiability and kindness personified; but while
they are able to entertain a company which has no immediate
connection with the family, comprising for the most part strangers
bound together by no ties of sympathy, they can not impart to it any
warm, intimate domestic tone; and they have no desire to do so. The
guests are received inwardly and outwardly in the parlor. Family
rooms are not shown. Perhaps, indeed, there are none; they are all
empty and bare, to serve the purposes of "society."
Lady Von Kahring is an admirable person to revive a drooping
conversation.
It has occurred to her at this time to project a splendid bazaar for
the benefit of the poor. She, herself, will direct every thing. The
young ladies shall paint and embroider; influential wealthy people
have already promised their assistance. The court-decorator shall
have charge of the decorations; gentlemen will buy; there will be a
raffle, a lottery; and other attractions can be added, which will
fill the treasury.
Every body is in ecstasy over it. Lady Von Kahring has acquired for
herself the reputation of having the interests of the poor at heart;
but the need has risen to such an oppressive height during this
Winter, she argues, that the work must be taken up more thoroughly
and systematically by all the noble ladies, as an example that they
shun no duty or sacrifice.
A playful expression of incredulity may be seen in Sibylla's face;
but she bites her lips in order to conceal the tell-tale smile.
Wulf is a novice concerning bazaars. They appear wholly commendable
to him. He can not, therefore, understand Sibylla's want of
interest, and quietly asks the reason.
"It is wicked, but I can not help it. I see, in my mind's eye, Herr
Von Lenkseuring, as its good genius, capering around every booth. O,
if he had only wings to bear up such a praiseworthy enterprise
wholly! And then I think how charming we shall all be as importunate
sales-ladies in white or heavenly-blue costumes. Please, Herr
Ericksen, do not fail to buy something from me. When we bring to the
good deed so much self-sacrifice, you must not hold back!"
Wulf is bewildered. What kind of a girl is this Fraulein Sibylla?
But Lady Von Kahring and other elderly ladies deliberate long and
earnestly over the affair. It has so many sides, and has already
reached a culminating point. Many of the managers rejoice when they
see in their mirrors that night persons who belong to the noblest and
most magnanimous of their kind. Indeed, a maiden lady who is
distinguished for her spirituality, already expresses herself with
holy unction concerning the "work in the Lord's vineyard," which no
one dares to evade.
"I am also a worker in the vineyard," exclaims Herr Bolton, as he
empties a glass of wine as fast as Sibylla refills it.
Wulf hears the shameful blasphemy with burning heart and head. He
would resent it, but even more shocking is it to him when Sibylla
looks upon the man with smiles.
"Fraulein Sibylla, how can you suffer such audacity?" he says
reproachfully, adding: "He addressed that remark to you."
"What would you? With wolves one must howl or----" and Sibylla grew
serious as she continued: "Do you imagine this Philistine, so near to
me and yet so remote, knows that he has uttered any thing unbecoming?
He thinks he had made a _bon mot_. No; I should hesitate to begin a
contest here. The fundamental rule of society is never to disagree
with any one."
Wulf pressed his hand to his forehead, thankful that he had escaped
committing an unpardonable offense.
"When I contend," continued Sibylla, "it must be worth the while.
Besides, with such a one as that--the spirit has flown, the dregs
remain!"
Dr. Uhlhart had followed the lively conversation between Sibylla and
Wulf with the closest attention. Unfortunately he has not been able
to catch much of it, as he is obliged to give a share of interest to
his fair neighbor, who timidly offers an occasional remark. He has
become accustomed to regard Sibylla as his especial companion at
these evening parties, because she was the only one sympathetic,
gifted person on intellectual equality with him. He was far too
clever to feel satisfied with society's beaten track; its hollow
intercourse, inward deceptions, etc., disgusted him, although he was
a participant in them. His disagreeable manner repulsed most people,
and he revenged himself by keeping every body at arm's length as far
as possible. He was, indeed, unusually talented, but his
immeasurable self-conceit caused him to make the most imperious
pretensions. A premature knowledge of the world, together with a
good share of self-indulgence, had not tended to make him very
amiable. The world, therefore, either ignored or avoided him. This
galled him, and laid an encrusted hate upon his heart, out of which
stone the water of human love and kindness seldom sprang.
Sibylla was the only one who could perform this miracle. So
beautiful an objector, and one with so keen an intellect, was rarely
found among women. These qualities, added to a long acquaintance,
enabled her to comprehend this hard and yet weak heart. But her
pride towered high over the domination which Uhlhart at times
endeavored to exert, and she had an especial delight in showing him
that she was free from his influence. She realized her power over
him and his dependence upon her--weaknesses which no true woman will
suffer; and she inwardly detested the man whom she could twine around
her finger, and who trembled before her. But she enjoyed Wulf's
fresh personality. It amused her to see with what undisguised
pleasure he enjoyed things which had grown wearisome and insipid to
her; and Wulf not only delighted in her lively conversation, but
every thing he experienced was heightened in attractiveness and
interest by her assistance, she seemed to have such a true, clear
view of people and their surroundings.
But to return to our company. Dr. Uhlhart had made the unwelcome
discovery that Sibylla was not troubling herself about his dark,
disapproving glances. He therefore decided to begin an interesting
conversation with his little neighbor, Olga Von Steinfels. He was
confident he could talk well; but what was the trouble? She is quite
taciturn now, and he can not fail to observe that she only turns to
him occasionally, while heart and ear are fixed upon Wulf, who,
having once addressed her, is rewarded with a blush and sustained
attention. Dr. Uhlhart bites his lips. What does he care for such
an upstart? But he will not permit any one to detect his
discomfiture.
Herr Bolton is now conversing animatedly with Sibylla upon
sheep's-wool. He seems to think that war and peace, Winter and
Summer, exist solely for his wool. "I and my wool," "My wool and I,"
are the two poles around which the earth revolves. Sibylla is
politely attentive, although she is scarcely aware of what he is
saying. But he is interesting to her as an example of the race of
genuine Philistines, who, in every thing that happens, find only
material for the aggrandizement of their own little selves, and in
this instance whose highest interest culminates in the rocking risks
of a wool-dealer's cradle.
Wulf listens to the conversation devoutly for some time, until it
becomes apparent that Sibylla is only carrying on a lively banter
with the self-important wool-merchant, and he can scarcely refrain
from laughter.
Arnold Von Kahring has been sitting at the extreme end of the table.
The cloth having been removed, he hastens to Sibylla. Wulf is
somewhat surprised to find that the young baron does not appear to
observe him.
"You seem to be enjoying yourself very much, Fraulein Sibylla."
"Why should I not?" she replies.
"There is such a charming simpleton here, and therefore, as usual,
plenty of laughter," interjects Dr. Uhlhart sarcastically.
"And would you condescend to observe such a one?" retorts Sibylla
pertly.
At this juncture the clock is observed, and the discovery made that
it is high time for the company to disperse--a fact that had been
ignored too long on account of the agreeable intercourse. The host
and hostess beg every one to remain; but, difficult as it may be to
separate, this is impossible; so they exchange compliments and
depart, as they came, strangers to one another. They sought nothing,
and found it.
But has no one lost any thing?
Host and hostess have made their final courtesies at the door. The
latter sinks exhausted into an arm-chair, while the former draws a
profound breath of relief and exclaims:
"Thank God, the drudgery is over. I thought they would stay forever!"
"Wurtzel, I entreat you," whispers the wife, shuddering, "do be
still. They will hear you; they are not out of the hall yet."
With a gesture of horror Herr Wurtzel checks himself.
Let us accompany to their homes some of the well-known guests.
Wulf has not been able to recover himself altogether in his small
apartment. He is still in the glittering salon, and finds it
difficult to rid himself of its gay impressions. But when his
solitary life at the beach recurs to him, he can not refrain from
instituting a comparison between his mother's humble cottage and this
elegant mansion. What a contrast! The one so poor, the other so
rich! How happy he is to have learned to know all these great
people. It is true he had not witnessed their deeds; but had he not
heard their conversation, their plans and resolutions, which inspired
him with enthusiasm? Wulf reflects upon all this, and then rejoices
that Sibylla has been invited on the morrow to the Kahrings. No one
else has interested him so much.
But Arnold Von Kahring is wondering how he can give Wulf a
sleep-potion, to render him unfit for society during the coming
twenty-four hours. There was a time when he preferred him to all
others, but to-day Wulf is not only intolerable, but very much in his
way.
Herr Bolton, the merchant, is soon fast asleep, resting as sweetly on
his downy bed as if he lay upon his darling wool-sacks. He dreams of
the latter, and then the sack is transformed into a head, which bears
the resemblance of Fraulein Sibylla Von Herbig.
Olga Von Steinfels can not find rest. She sits by an open window,
thinking of all the romances of princes, cavaliers and heroes that
she has read. The best and handsomest to her mind is Herr Ericksen.
How pleasantly he had spoken to her, more pleasantly than any one
else--or had any one else spoken to her at all?
Lady Von Kahring is considering the preparations for her
entertainment on the morrow. So many bottles of champagne must be
ordered, and so much fire-wood for the open hearth. When she reckons
the number of guests and the amount of gas to be consumed, both of
these orders must be increased. With such thoughts she falls asleep,
and in her dreams the wood has been ignited, and her house can not be
saved with the precious bottles of champagne.
Dr. Uhlhart is still sitting in a drinking-saloon. He seldoms
returns home before morning. He can not sleep until then. He is
angry with all the world--O no! he is too _blasé_ for that; he
despises it. The voice of his soul echoes his favorite blasphemous
verse:
"In the ocean of my life,
Rocks and whirlpools I defy;
My own _self's_ the guiding star;
My own _self's_ the God on high."
And Sibylla? Well, she is just Sibylla.