"He that leaves out of this brief life eternal blessedness, deceives
himself and builds upon the 'Rainbow.'"--FREIDANK.
Wulf has returned to Berlin. His heart beats high, and it seems to
him as though he had just arrived home--his real home--to visit. He
greets his books as old friends, and is delighted to be with them
again. As he steps to the window and looks down on the variegated,
active life-picture below, he feels himself a part of it. And all
the dwellings around about, in which thousands of lives pulsate--how
much joy and happiness they may conceal for him! They are both
there, and it only remains for him to knock at the doors to find them.
But first he will seek happiness in work. Without being fully aware
of it, he has learned much during the past few weeks. His mother's
and sister's faithful discharge of duties has not been without its
influence upon him. He is almost ashamed of himself when he compares
his efforts with theirs. The world Wulf has indeed inhaled; but
there is a good kernel in the boy, for he is his mother's son.
His work renewed, Wulf seeks his old friends, and before he is
conscious of it he is again swimming in the current of society's
tempestuous waters.
It is all just as of old--so attractive, so brilliant! People greet
Wulf as one they had seen but yesterday. They inquire indifferently
of his travels; in fact, they have not missed him. Has he become any
more unworthy by having visited his home friends? Why is he cut with
such cool recognition? A loadstone lies upon him to-day, and he
feels himself a stranger among those he well knows. Conversation is
carried on concerning the news of the day, what such a noted tenor
sings, or such a celebrated actor plays. Wulf is not yet _en
rapport_ with the times, and can not therefore join in it.
Interesting matters are stirring in which he has no share. Has every
body changed, or has he become different?
Yet there are several persons to whom Wulf's _entrée_ is especially
interesting. Olga Von Steinfels is only too much gratified to see
him again, and the place suddenly becomes attractive to her because
he is present. How long her eyes have sought in vain for his manly
form and bronzed face! What a sensation thrills her to think how
this young man might influence her poor little life!
But he is seeking Sibylla, the undisputed queen, as usual, of all
assemblies.
It is said of the rainbow that if it remained stationary a quarter of
an hour we should never care to look upon it. Sibylla can not,
therefore, be a rainbow, but rather a star, which one loves the more,
the longer one beholds it. And yet, outwardly, she resembles the
rainbow, with its continued changes of form and color, more than the
quiet star.
Finally Wulf has an opportunity to approach her; but she greets him
as curtly and lightly as ever; and the fact that she immediately
begins a lively conversation with him is for the purpose of ridding
herself of a disagreeable chatterer whom she will not permit to lead
his prey so easily as he solicits.
"May I be allowed to escort Fraulein Sibylla to supper?"
"Thank you, I am engaged," she replies, coldly.
Dr. Uhlhart is standing near. He knows Sibylla well enough to be
assured that she is not telling the truth. And now supper is
announced, and the couples begin to form. He approaches her with,
"May I be permitted?" offering his arm.
Sibylla is exasperated. Is she then so bound to him that he is able
to wield her as he wishes? Proudly and haughtily she replies:
"Has not Dr. Uhlhart been standing near enough to hear that I am
already engaged?"
The doctor bit his lips and stepped back, as Sibylla looked him
steadily in the eye.
Wulf has heard nothing of all this, having been engaged in
conversation with a professor. As the couples begin to pass out to
the supper-room, Sibylla looks anxiously around for a rescuer. If
only some old gentleman would come, with whom she could go
informally. Uhlhart stood with sneering smile, enjoying her
discomfiture. Wulf has just observed her; has she no escort? The
next instant he is at her side, and she has taken his arm, the two
bringing up the rear of the procession. Wulf's act had been so quick
in perception that Sibylla made a remark she would have done to no
one else. Her face beaming with pleasure, she exclaimed, "O, you
have saved me!" and thereupon related her embarrassment. Wulf was
happy--yes, delighted; and Sibylla permitted him to escort her when
it pleased her.
Dr. Uhlhart observed the two with disapproving glance, and his heart
nursed bitter thoughts.
Arnold Von Kahring also observed how happy Sibylla seemed to be with
Wulf, and over his countenance flashed an ugly expression; but Arnold
was an enemy no one need fear.
At table, chance placed Olga Von Steinfels and Herr Von Lenkseuring
_vis-à-vis_ to Sibylla and Wulf. The latter chafed inwardly to hear
the exaggerated compliments which Lenkseuring paid to the poor child
beside him, who appeared to lend a too willing ear. He well knew it
was Olga's fortune, not herself, that the flatterer loved, and he
pitied the poor girl. But why should he care?
At this moment Lady Von Kahring, who was always an authority in
spiritual matters, turned the conversation to a young clergyman who
had been attracting general attention. He had introduced high
liturgical views, and now the question was whether this kind of
divine service would be acceptable to the Berlin Churchmen. While
the different _pros_ and _cons_ were being advanced, Sibylla suddenly
turned to Wulf and asked if he did not wish to defend the absent
clergyman. He excused himself, and Sibylla continued: "You have
surely admired our beautiful church from without?"
"Both from without and within. I have attended service there several
times," replied Wulf.
"Ah, indeed!" she said somewhat satirically, and without waiting for
further explanation she added with animation: "I am no friend of the
Roman Catholics, but their custom of keeping their churches open
daily is one I envy, especially if they be beautiful ones. With us
no one can enjoy a beautiful church without taking with it a tiresome
preacher."
Wulf looked up approvingly. He had often indulged the same
sentiment; but he asked:
"Are all preachers, then, tiresome?"
"Naturally."
He was obliged to laugh at her frankness; but he inquired whether she
ignored all the pleasure of divine service. Sibylla was silent a
moment, then said:
"No, largely, and I may say on the whole, there is a certain churchly
festivity there. The number of people assembled, the strangeness of
the place, the organ music, and the singing, all these contain
elements calculated to elevate; but the services should be shorter
and more beautiful and artistic."
"For the ordinary person, the common people, this would be of little
value," ventured Wulf.
"Do you think so? O, I am sure that art is not without its influence
upon every body."
"But, I ask, how many people there are who have lost all sentiment
for the beautiful? Do you not observe how every workman, every
tradesman, undervalues it in his anxiety to make money in these
realistic times?" interjected Wulf.
"When a child has heard and seen nothing of his mother for years, he
may forget her for a time," said Sibylla, deeply moved; "but bring
the child back to her, do you not think his natural love will be
reawakened, and he will fare nowhere so well as in his mother's arms?"
"Nowhere so well?" reiterated Wulf. "Shall not, then, religion
satisfy the ordinary man or woman best?"
"Try it," replied Sibylla, curtly; "and as certainly as we prefer joy
to pain, just so surely will art make life joyous, and religion
render life gloomy. I hesitated a long time to which I should give
the preference," she added in a subdued voice, "art or Christianity;
but I hesitate no longer. I feel that I am formed for happiness and
I intend to enjoy life."
"You are in error," responded Wulf earnestly, "and you do not
understand the essence of true art. Art and religion are intimately
connected."
"I thought so once," interrupted Sibylla, "and for a long time sought
to unite the two; but the fundamental ideas of religion contradict
the essence of art."
"Both bring to greater perfection; both strive for harmony,"
persisted Wulf.
"O, I think," continued Sibylla, "art will do more than make people
merely virtuous. That she can not and does not do; but she permits
people to be happy, and this Christianity never allows. Where does
the Bible exhort to pleasure and enjoyment? 'Deny thyself,' 'Thou
shalt deny thyself,' is the everlasting precept. Our minister
preaches nothing but self-denial, conflict, and sin, while art
encourages happiness at all times."
How beautiful the young woman looked as she uttered these daring
words! Wulf was not convinced by the latter, but he was continually
attracted toward the fair speaker. Now he said:
"Still in every art lies a struggle for some principle, in order to
establish a lofty thought or a spiritual ideal."
"Yes, indeed," responded Sibylla. "When I was at school a pedantic
instructor declared to us his conception of the beautiful was
'spiritual substance in a more complete form!' But the thought is
still a human thought, and the form not of the life of this world,
which, according to the teaching of Christianity is destructive and
sinful. Greek art makes the human body its ideal; but what says
Christianity? Perishable dust, perishable and corruptible. Beneath
a picture of life is the hateful form of death with the moral:
Despise the beauty and good of this world; resign them for an
uncertain hope in a nebulous future; torment yourself, destroy your
dearest wishes--and all for what? For a faith which no one is sure
whether it be true or not. We have the gods of the Greeks; their
myths and sayings we must throw aside for a new light. Who shall
assure us that just such a fate shall not await religion in later
times? Every thing changes; one opinion controverts another. Where
is truth?"
With increasing astonishment Wulf listened to the excited girl. Then
he said:
"But how do you reconcile the thought of the end with happiness?
There comes a time when life ceases."
"Is a short happiness then no happiness? Just because life flies so
quickly I shall enjoy it. Besides it increases gratitude and praise
to the Creator to rejoice in a world he has made so beautiful. I
fulfill his will when I am happy."
A pause ensued. The views were new to Wulf; he felt that they were
superficial, but he bade them welcome. There still lay in his heart
a remnant of godly fear; but he decided to investigate both sides of
the question. His studies had often said to him, "God's Word is not
true," and life everywhere around cried, "We do not need it." He
listened to these voices, but they had not mastered him. Something
drew him away from them; but to-day this something was silent.
Sibylla had spoken. What to think he scarcely yet knew. She
continued:
"Narrow fetters and barriers, rigorous injunctions and commandments,
are the methods to torture and embitter men. Art leads to freedom.
She is the guiding-star of our intellect and our endeavors; she fills
our hearts with her beauty, and remains our consolation in the
misfortunes of our greatest calamities."
The supper-table had become deserted. Soon after, the guests
separated to their homes. Who carried any thing with him from this
company? Whose heart was richer, whose strivings nobler, whose love
had grown warmer? Who had found refreshment from business cares?
Who had gained one true friend? No one went away richer than he
came; but did no one return to his home poorer?
When Wulf entered his chamber, his first glance fell upon a skull
which lay on his writing-table. "So will you look in time," said
something within loudly. "Then I shall enjoy life, if it be so
short," he replied; "for enjoyment is life."