LEARN THE EVIL THAT IS IN MAN.
Villa Eden had hitherto been surrounded by a mysterious magic. Fear and
envy had given rise to the report that there was something wrong about
the inmates; about Herr Sonnenkamp, whom everybody saw, and Frau Ceres,
whom scarcely anybody saw. The threats of spring-guns and man-traps
posted upon the walls imbued the ignorant people in the neighborhood
with an almost superstitious fear. It was even said that Herr
Sonnenkamp had smeared the trap with a poison for which there was no
antidote. The servants of the house affected somewhat the reserve of
their superiors; they had little intercourse with others, and were
hardly saluted by them. But the mysterious dragon, which, no one knew
how or where, kept secret watch over the villa, seemed nothing but a
scarecrow after this robbery; the beautiful white house was stripped of
its charm; it was as if all the bolts were thrown back. Quickly the
report gained ground that the house-servants had committed the robbery.
The people on the roads and in the villages through which the carriage
passed looked up and nodded to Eric, Roland, and Pranken, as they drove
swiftly by. The few who raised their caps did it hesitatingly, as if
they, like the rest, would say, It is all up now with your master; the
officers will soon find out what has been going on among you.
The three men found everything in confusion at the villa when they
arrived.
The porter at once expressed conviction that the robbery had been
committed by persons belonging to the house, because all the doors had
been closely fastened, and not a dog had barked; showing that the
thieves must have been familiar with the house, and well known to the
dogs.
The officers were already on the spot. Sonnenkamp's work-room had been
entered, and treasures stolen whose value could not be estimated, among
them a dagger with a jewelled handle. The thieves had even tried to
force the fire-proof safe, but in vain. Great goblets of gold and
silver which stood upon the sideboard in the dressing-room had
disappeared, as well as Roland's gold watch, which, when he went to
Wolfsgarten, he had left on the table beside his bed. His pillow had
also been taken, but was afterwards found on the wall, where it had
served to make a smooth and easy passage over the broken glass which
had been intended to make the wall insurmountable.
Two footprints were discovered in the park and behind the hot-house.
The thieves must have stumbled among the heaps of garden mould, for on
one of these was plainly visible the impression of a human body; one of
the thieves had evidently fallen there. Here was also found a pair of
the dwarfs old boots, which, on being compared with the footprints in
the garden, were found exactly to correspond. Thus a clue was gained,
though a very uncertain one. The dwarf just then came by, on his way to
his accustomed work, and listened in astonishment to an account of what
had happened. He was allowed to work on undisturbed.
The officer who had charge of the investigation, and his assistants,
the burgomaster of the village, and some of the chief men, were
assembled in the balcony-room, examining the various servants. Roland
stood apart, his eyes fixed upon the pillow which had been stolen and
made use of by the thieves in climbing the wall. He grew very pale, as
he stood there listening to the questions that were asked of one man
after another, in the hope of extorting something from each.
The dwarf appeared, and said that a pair of boots had been stolen from
him.
"Yes," replied the officer at once, "the theft was committed in your
boots."
The dwarfs face wore a simple expression, as if he had not understood
what was meant.
The officer ordered his instant arrest. He complained piteously that
the innocent were always the ones to be suspected, and Roland begged
that the poor creature might be allowed to go free.
"I will throttle any one who touches me," cried the dwarf, his
excitement seeming to make a different being of him.
At a sign from the officer, two men quietly bound the poor creature's
hands behind his back.
Eric led Roland away. Why should he see this night-side of human
nature?
Happily the Major appeared at this moment, and Eric delivered Roland to
him.
"Here is a lesson for you, young man," said the Major. "Everything can
be stolen from you, except your heart, when in the right place, and
except what you have in your head; they can never be stolen from you.
Mark that."
The officer had the servants brought before him, and questioned them as
to the persons who had lately visited the villa. They mentioned the
names of many, but the porter said,--
"The Herr Captain took the huntsman by himself over the whole house,
and when he left he said to me, 'You guard the rich man's money and
treasures, when it would be better to throw the doors wide open, and to
scatter it abroad in the world.'"
Eric could not deny that the huntsman had observed everything very
closely, and had talked in a confused way about the distinction of rich
and poor; yet he thought he could answer for the man's honesty.
The officer made no answer, but despatched two of his men to search the
house of Claus.
The huntsman smiled and shrugged his shoulders, when he saw what their
intention was. Nothing was found, but in a kennel was chained a dog
that barked incessantly.
"Unfasten the dog's chain," said one of the men to Claus, who had
followed them through all the rooms and into the court, saying nothing,
but keeping his lips moving all the time.
"What for?"
"Because I bid you; if you don't do it at once, I shall shoot the dog
through the head."
Upon the dog being set free, the kennel was searched, and in it, under
the straw, were found Roland's watch and the jewel-hilted dagger. Claus
was immediately bound and put under arrest, in spite of his earnest
protestations of innocence. On the way from his house to the villa he
kept raising his chains, as if to show them appealingly to the fields,
the vineyards, and the heavens.
A list was made out of the stolen articles as far as they could be
described, and Roland was summoned to sign his name for the first time
to an official document.
"There is no calculating the effect such a thing must produce on the
boy," said Eric to the Major, who was standing by.
"It will do him no harm," replied the Major; "his heart is sound, and
Fraeulein Milch says, 'A young heart and a young stomach are quick
digesters.'"
Fraeulein Milch was mistaken this time, for at sight of Clans brought in
in chains, Roland uttered a cry of distress.
A new scent was presently started. The groom, who had been in Pranken's
pay as a spy, and afterwards dismissed by Sonnenkamp, had, within the
last few days, been seen and recognized in the neighborhood, though he
had taken great pains to disguise himself. Telegrams were immediately
despatched in all directions for the arrest of the supposed thief, and
also to Sonnenkamp.
The priest came, lamented what had happened, using a noble charity in
speaking of the disaster, and begged Eric not to lay it too much to
heart, because, devoted as he had been to learning and science, he
could naturally have no proper knowledge of the wickedness of his
fellow-men, and had naturally allowed himself to be taken unawares by
it.
Eric was more humbled in spirit than the priest thought reasonable. He
remembered having once said, that the man who consecrates himself to an
idea must renounce all else; and now he was humiliated by standing in
the presence of one who, in his way, acted up to this sentiment, while
he himself had allowed the excitement of mental dissipation to drag him
down from his high standard.
The priest repeated, that is all our plans we should take into account
the wickedness of mankind; and Eric, who hardly knew what answer to
make, assured him that he was well aware of the necessity, having
voluntarily passed some time in a House of Correction, for the sake of
restoring guilty men to their better selves. Neither Eric nor the
priest, who praised him, noticed the effect which this confession
produced upon Roland. He was, then, in the hands of a man who had tried
to counsel criminals, who had lived in a House of Correction! A fear
and repugnance took possession of the boy's soul. Eric's motive was
forgotten; Roland seemed to himself humiliated. He sat a long time
silently buried in thought, his face covered with his hands.
The priest approached him at last, and admonished him not to let this
accident dishearten him, but only let it teach him not to place his
trust in the treasures of this world, particularly in his own
possessions; neither to have that so-called faith in humanity, which is
a deceitful faith, exposed to daily shocks; for there was but one sure
and abiding faith, that in God, the supreme being, eternal and
unchanging, who never deceives.
Roland remained silent and absorbed for some time after he and Eric
were left alone; finally he asked:--
"Does my father know what you once were?"
"Yes."
"Why did you not tell me?"
"Why? I had no reason for concealing it from you, or for telling you."
The boy again covered his face with his hands, and Eric, feeling that
the course he was here called upon to defend was one undertaken from
the purest motives, while within him he was conscious of a guilt which
none but himself could upbraid him with, explained to Roland how he had
felt it his duty to devote himself to the most unhappy. He spoke so
touchingly that the boy suddenly raised his head, and, holding out his
hand to him, exclaimed in a tone of the deepest feeling:--
"Forgive me! Ah, you are better than all."
The words smote Eric to the soul.
The officers of the law had left the villa, and even Pranken had ridden
away. Roland went about the house, looking fearfully behind him, as if
he had seen a ghost, an evil spirit. The stairs had been trodden by
wicked men, the doors had been tried by their instruments; the house
and all its treasures had been desecrated; he had lost pleasure not
only in the things which had been plundered, but still more in those
which could not be taken, which the thieves had been obliged to leave.
He begged Eric not to leave him for a moment, so great was his fear. At
night he was unwilling to go to bed; rest seemed impossible to him in a
place where the hands of robbers had taken the pillows from his bed.
Eric yielded to his entreaties that he would remain by him, and said,
after Roland had finally gone to bed,--
"I owe you an answer to your question,--What would Franklin have said
to this robbery? I think I know. He would have had no compassion on the
thieves; he would have given them up to the full penalty of the law;
but at the same time he would have maintained, that the wickedness of
individuals should not be allowed to rob us of our faith in humanity;
for if thieves could inflict that loss upon us, they would be robbing
us of more than hands can touch."
Roland nodded assent. Long after he had fallen asleep, Eric stood by
the bedside, thoughtfully watching the boy, who had had to learn this
lesson thus early,--Of what use is all this subtle study; of what
advantage any conscious training? An invisible, irresistible power, the
great current of life's experience, educates a man far more than a
single human teacher can do, and in a different way.
Long did Eric stand at the window, gazing out upon the river and the
vine-covered hills. We all work according to the strength that is in
us; the result of our labors lies not in our hands, but in the control
of that invisible, all-embracing power whose origin we know not, and
which we can only call God.
Eric was deeply moved. This event could not afflict his young charge so
deeply as it did him, for he was conscious of a power mightier than any
effort of his own thoughts, drawing him back from the edge of an abyss.
He looked into the future, and a fixed resolve was formed within him.
He was summoned away by a messenger from the officer who had conducted
the examination, bringing a telegram from Sonnenkamp. It ran thus:--
"Journey to sea-shore given up; coming home; shall find thieves, under
whatever title."
BOOK VI.
CHAPTER I.
THE MASTER AT HOME AGAIN.
Herr Sonnenkamp returned to his villa like a ruler to his castle where
a mutiny has lately broken out. Every step in his house, every glance
at a servant, said, I am here again, and with me authority and order.
Eric did not lay upon Pranken the blame of what had happened, but
confessed that he himself had been guilty of neglect of duty.
Sonnenkamp seemed to take pleasure in seeing Eric humbled. He was one
of those who love to rule others. With enough humanity in him to make
him prefer a willing obedience, he yet had no rest, when that proved
impossible, till his man was subdued and brought to his feet; then, and
not till then, was he willing to raise him up, for not till then was he
sure of the mastery. This self-reliant Captain-doctor had assumed a
demeanor that was unbecoming in him; now he was humbled, and would have
to be grateful for every act of kindness and friendliness done him.
Sonnenkamp had no suspicion of the satisfaction Eric took in his
humiliation, or of his motives for it; he regarded this humble
submission as a triumph of his authority, while to Eric himself it was
a confession of weakness in having been tempted by the magic of Bella's
charms to forget the strict watchfulness which was his duty.
Sonnenkamp soon perceived that the amount of the robbery was
insignificant. He said, with a certain malicious pleasure:--
"The knaves stole my jewelled dagger; it has a poisoned point, which is
death to whomsoever it scratches."
Eric had hardly power left to tell that the dagger was already in
possession of the officers of justice, so great a horror thrilled him.
Why should this man keep a poisoned dagger?
Pranken and the Major soon appeared, and Pranken was honest enough to
take the whole responsibility upon himself. He could not refrain from
saying, however, that Eric had previously left the villa to go to a
musical festival, and had won a surprising reputation there. Sonnenkamp
said, with a smile:--
"You kept Roland at home instead of letting him go to the Baths, in
order to keep him free from excitement; have you preserved him from
it?"
Eric was prevented from answering by the arrival of the priest, to whom
Sonnenkamp, who had never made any gift to the church, announced his
intention of presenting to it the gold and silver vessels which had
been taken from the sideboard. As if involuntarily, he added:--
"I don't want them any more in my house. You, reverend sir, will give
them a fresh consecration."
Eric expressed in a whisper to the Major, who stood by him, his
pleasure at this arrangement, and his belief that it would exert a
salutary influence on Roland, whose peace of mind had been in a great
measure destroyed by the robbery. Sonnenkamp heard his words, though
spoken in so low a tone, and said:--
"My highly honored Herr Captain, let me tell you honestly that I have
nothing to do with sentimentalities, and that I desire Roland should
early acquire a knowledge of these so-called well-disposed lower
classes, and learn that they are nothing but a mass of conspiracy
against the holders of property, awaiting the first favorable
opportunity to break out, or rather to break in."
Sonnenkamp was in the highest degree animated and cheerful. His only
cause of regret was, that there should have been so much talk made
about the affair in the neighborhood, and that so much valuable time
had to be lost in the processes of law. Frau Ceres said not a word
about the robbery; it almost seemed as if she had not heard of it. She
only rejoiced that Roland had grown so much during her absence. She
told Eric that she had met at the Baths a most aristocratic and amiable
lady, a relation of his mother, who had spoken of her with great
enthusiasm.
The very first evening after the return of Sonnenkamp and his family, a
carriage drove up in which were Bella and Clodwig. Eric was delighted
to greet his friends, but was somewhat shy of Bella.
"We have come to protect you from this savage," she whispered to him
behind her fan; "we will show him that you belong to us. And now you
will leave everything and come to us, will you not?"
The words thrilled Eric; he could only bow his thanks.
Bella observed her husband's embarrassment as he stood with Sonnenkamp.
His fine and sensitive nature could never overcome a feeling of
timidity, of terror, whenever he found himself confronted with this
herculean shape. Bella helped him out of the difficulty by saying
jestingly, "Herr Sonnenkamp, you must have seen many strange things in
your life; did you ever happen to fall in with thieves who openly
confessed they had stolen, or were proposing to steal?"
Sonnenkamp looked at her in amazement.
"We are such thieves, in broad daylight," she cried, laughing, and
turning to her husband she continued:--
"Now do you speak, dear Clodwig."
Clodwig hesitatingly expressed his wish to have Eric live with him.
Sonnenkamp's sharp glance fell upon Bella. The forefinger of his left
hand was already raised in playful menace against her, and he was on
the point of saying, "I understand you," when he checked himself, and,
laying his finger on his lips, said:--
"I am glad to see that our Herr Eric"--with a peculiar emphasis on the
word "our"--"that our Herr Eric stands so high in your good graces."
Eric was struck by the peculiar stress laid upon the word "our." He
seemed to have become a piece of property. Still more surprised was he
at Sonnenkamp's offering him his hand the next moment and saying:--
"You remain ours, do you not?"
Eric bowed.
Bella dwelt, with intentional emphasis, upon the particulars of her
visit to Eric's mother in the University-town. She evidently desired to
let Herr Sonnenkamp know that a man of Eric's rank and position was not
to be crushed on account of a trifling act of neglect. Sonnenkamp
whistled to himself inaudibly, as if some plan were ripening in him.
Bella contrived again to be alone with Eric, and expressed to him her
satisfaction at the success of her little plot. She knew, she said,
that Sonnenkamp would not let him go, but she also knew that he would
humble him on account of the neglect he had been guilty of, and
therefore persuaded Clodwig to drive over at once. Eric was full of
gratitude.
"Did you notice," she asked in a low voice, "what a look Herr
Sonnenkamp gave me, and how he raised his finger at me? This man
imagines that our friendship is something more than friendship; to the
impure nothing is pure. I think you will not misunderstand me, if I
sometimes intentionally slight you in the presence of this spying
knave."
She gave Eric her hand, and held his long and tightly pressed. Neither
suspected that from behind a bush two eyes were fixed upon them, and a
sharp ear heard their every word. When they had passed on, Sonnenkamp
drew a deep breath as a relief from the long constraint he had put upon
himself.
CHAPTER II.
AN INALIENABLE POSSESSION.
The next morning came the tidings that the groom whom Sonnenkamp had
dismissed shortly before his journey, suspecting him of being a spy of
Pranken's, had been arrested in the capital in the very act of offering
for sale a large silver goblet. Roland brought the news to Eric, and
this was only one of the many interruptions liable at any moment to
break in upon the hours of study and thought, in consequence of this
robbery. Of what use were lessons when the mind was thus excited? What
lasting impression could be made? At one time Eric thought of going
hunting more frequently with Roland, in order to amuse him and let him
gain fresh elasticity and powers of observation by the pursuit of new
objects. But he finally decided on the opposite course, that of helping
his pupil not by amusement, but by closer application to his studies.
Great was his satisfaction, therefore, at having Roland say to him,--
"Let us forget all else and quietly go on with our work."
The boy's love of study had received an impulse which made every
interruption distasteful to him, and led him to look for his best
pleasures in his books.
Roland soon became conscious of a fresh energy in Eric, without being
able to conjecture its cause; it was the exaltation that follows a
danger escaped, escaped by one's own effort. Whenever Eric thought of
the days at Wolfsgarten, and his trifling with those feelings which
should be the finest of the human heart, he seemed to himself a thief.
He had recklessly staked the entire capital which he had so laboriously
won; he had allowed himself, under a pretended interchange of noble
thoughts, to toy with Bella: to flirt, as he called it in plain
language, with Clodwig's wife. To his mind, he had violated a
sanctuary; how small, how infinitely small in comparison, seemed the
offence of these poor people! He felt deeply humbled in his own eyes.
How gladly would he have made a pilgrimage with Roland to some temple
where he could purify himself, and where Roland could gain new
strength! Whither should he turn?
It is easier for one wearied in the exciting race of life, and burdened
in conscience, to enter into the invisible temple built with hands than
into the visible temple of science; yet Eric succeeded in doing this.
What he would with difficulty have accomplished for himself, perhaps
would have failed to accomplish, he did from duty to another. He lost
himself in the love of knowledge, and everything became clearer and
more intelligible. As an experienced swimmer delights in the onward
rush of the waves, dives below the surface to rise again to the light,
and with vigorous arms divides the waters; so Eric plunged into
science, and felt his heart swell with joy when the mighty waves roared
towards him. Gone were all petty fears and anxieties, all self-contest.
In Roland, too, deep currents were stirred. He often went about as in a
dream. The ground beneath him, which he now knew to be in constant
motion, swam before his eyes: the heavens were no longer there; the old
world was dissolved and a new one revealed; while mingling with all
this new life within him was the thought that all private property
would be abolished, and poverty and riches divided equally among men.
Eric observed this excitement in the mind of his pupil. Roland said to
him one day timidly,--
"Tell me, Eric, if there will ever come to be no more private property
in the world, and consequently no more thieves."
Eric was startled to see how this strange idea had taken hold of the
boy. He explained that he had only brought that up as an illustration;
the thing itself was an impossibility; he had only meant to show what a
radical change might be worked in the minds and lives of men.
Fresh evidences of this unaccountable tendency of the boy's thoughts
were constantly appearing. One day he asked Eric to go with him to the
huntsman's, to see how his wife and children were faring. He said he
had met the man's son, a cooper in the service of the Wine-count, a
little while ago, and had offered to shake hands with him, telling him
the son was not to blame for what the father had done, even if he had
done anything wrong, which he certainly had not; but that the cooper
had stared at him, and instead of taking his offered hand, had drawn
his hammer from his leather apron, swung it back and forth for a while,
and finally walked off.
When Eric and Roland approached the huntsman's house, the birds in the
cages were singing, busiest among them the blackbird, with his
incessant chirp of thanksgiving, and the dogs were bounding merrily.
The wife looked ill and slatternly, and was full of complaints. She
told how she had wanted to let all the birds out after her husband was
taken to prison, but her son, the cooper, insisted on everything being
left as it was till his father came back, which was sure to be very
soon; Sevenpiper had in the mean while undertaken to do part of her
husband's work, and the cooper attended to the night duties, though he
had to work so hard through the day. Everything should be done
properly, that the place might be kept open for her husband.
Eric offered her a sum of money, which she refused, saying that her
son, the cooper, had forbidden her to accept anything from Sonnenkamp's
family.
"If this man is innocent, as I believe he is," said Roland, when they
were in the villa again, "what can make up to him for all the anxiety
and distress he has had to suffer?"
Eric had no satisfactory answer to give; he could only say that this
was another proof of the fact that the best things in life could not be
supplied by money.
CHAPTER III.
THE NEW ALLIES, AND A SUMMER FETE.
Hardly two weeks had gone by before the lessons were interrupted again.
Frau Ceres, who was generally very quiet and took no interest in
anything, often referred to a promise she had made to take Roland to
see the Cabinetsraethin, (wife of the _cabinet-minister_), whose
acquaintance she had formed at the Baths.
A grand excursion to the capital was decided upon, which Eric alone was
not invited to join. The party set out in two carriages. Frau Ceres,
Fraeulein Perini, and Roland in one, and Sonnenkamp and Pranken in the
other.
Pranken began at once to express his satisfaction at the friendly
interest Sonnenkamp had shown in the Church; he had on his side already
put things in such a train that they could count upon the co-operation
of the higher clergy, who were very influential at Court, in carrying
out their plan. He felt some compunctions at profiting by his frequent
and intimate intercourse with the Prince-cardinal, as a piece of
diplomacy; but he was vain enough to wish to pass off upon the world in
general and Sonnenkamp in particular, as a stroke of worldly wisdom,
the inward illumination which he secretly gloried in. He rejoiced at
the relation thus easily established with the Cabinetsraethin, upon whom
outside pressure could be brought to bear in a way hardly possible with
her husband.
As they drove by a handsome villa, whose shutters were all barred,
Pranken suggested that Herr Sonnenkamp should buy it in order to sell
it again at a low price to the Cabinetsraethin, who, as he knew, had
long cherished a strong desire for such a residence. Sonnenkamp
consented, on the condition that it would accomplish his object. It
would be one of the levers, Pranken assured him, though not the only
one.
Although the two were alone together, neither of them, singularly
enough, mentioned their plan by name, till Sonnenkamp said that the
Cabinetsraethin had told him a title of nobility was to be conferred on
the wine-merchant, and that he wished he might get one first; for he
thought he had a better right to the distinction, though he was not
going to marry his daughter to a dying man, but rather to the freshest
and liveliest of noblemen.
Pranken smiled his thanks, but replied that this priority of the
Wine-count,--it could hardly be called precedence--was rather
advantageous than otherwise, as it made the conferring of titles appear
not so much a matter of private negotiation.
"Your difficulties are greater than those of the Wine-count," he added:
"for the Prince-cardinal stayed in his house on his last circuit, so
that the Wine-count has on his side the church party, which is as
discreet as it is powerful, while you, I would say we, have no party.
So much the better; the victory will be all our own."
They reached the capital.
The Cabinetsraethin was delighted, and expressed to Pranken, whom she
constantly treated as the head, in fact the president of the party, her
great pleasure that a watering-place acquaintance should have ripened
into a new friendship.
Pranken insinuatingly remarked that they might become neighbors too.
The country-house was glowingly described, and the fact cautiously yet
emphatically stated, that Sonnenkamp had already bought the place for
the sake of inducing some noble friends to settle there by letting them
have it at a moderate sum.
The lady was delighted; she knew the house very well, it having once
belonged to friends of hers whom she had been in the habit of visiting
there. She quite envied the people who should live in such a home and
have such noble neighbors. She had told her husband, she said, that it
was a disgrace to the State that such a man as Herr Sonnenkamp should
have no title.
Having thus prepared the way, Pranken disclosed his plan to the
Cabinetsraethin, who assured him it could not but be a most desirable
thing for society, to have a man of Herr Sonnenkamp's importance
admitted to a higher rank. Sonnenkamp assumed an air of great shyness
and modesty. A maiden receiving her first offer, which she was quite
prepared for, could not have looked more bashfully on the ground; he
actually blushed.
They drew their chairs nearer together, as if now for the first time a
right friendly and confidential intercourse was established among them.
The lady begged that nothing might be said to her husband upon the
matter at present; she would manage that part herself; but it would be
a good plan to set some other influence at work; if Count Wolfsgarten,
for instance, would start the subject at court, it would be easy to
play into his hands.
Pranken laid great stress upon the cordial friendship that existed
between Clodwig and Sonnenkamp, but urged that a matter of this kind
needed to be handled with the greatest delicacy, such as only a lady of
the Cabinetsraethin's acknowledged tact was capable of.
Sonnenkamp declared that he did not ask for a title; it must be offered
him; his friends must see to that. He rejoiced in the delicacy with
which the Cabinetsraethin handled the matter, and he handled it in like
manner; his whole demeanor said, This is something quite out of the
common course.
He moved his hand quietly, as if he were stroking the back of a very
soft cat.
"Are there vineyards attached to this country-house?" suddenly asked
the lady.
"To the best of my knowledge," answered Pranken, "there are three acres
most favorably situated."
He winked at Sonnenkamp, as much as to say that these must of course be
purchased also.
Sonnenkamp at once lost his character of modesty and bashfulness; here
was a question of money; here he was master. He wanted to tell the lady
that he could not deal in any other than a business-like manner; when
he had fairly got his patent of nobility she should take possession of
the country-house and vineyards besides; but he was afraid to say it
before Pranken, and besides it seemed hardly necessary to come out with
it just yet. When it came to the point, he would be man enough not to
allow himself to be cheated. There was a triumphant smile upon his
face.
The Cabinetsrath entered, saluted Sonnenkamp with formal politeness,
and expressed his thanks for the courtesies shown his wife at Vichy.
The party went into the hall, where were Roland and the son of the
house, a cadet. Roland's beauty immediately attracted all eyes, and
made him the centre of the group. The Cabinetsrath congratulated him on
having for a tutor such a finished scholar as Eric, although he was
somewhat eccentric in his theories, and as Roland answered some
question that were addressed to him by saying he should like to be an
officer, advised him to enter the school of cadets as soon as possible.
Pranken said in an aside to the Cabinetsraethin that he entirely
approved of Herr Sonnenkamp's plan not to let Roland enter the school
till he had received a title, thus sparing him many embarrassments; for
if the boy were suddenly admitted to the nobility while in the school,
there would be no end to the jokes he would have to endure from his
companions.
The Cabinetsrath spoke of the rebuilding of the ruins, of Sonnenkamp's
well-known skill in horticulture, and of the complimentary manner in
which he had often heard them spoken of in the highest circles.
Sonnenkamp craved permission to send some of his products occasionally
to the royal table, especially his beautiful bananas, which were now
particularly fine. Pranken thought Herr Sonnenkamp's success in grape
culture the most remarkable, for he managed to have fresh grapes upon
his table every month in the year.
The Cabinetsrath replied that this courtesy would no doubt be very
acceptable, but he had no authority to speak in the matter. The
Marshal, who was a cousin of Herr von Pranken, would unquestionably
accept the offer.
Pranken at once took Herr Sonnenkamp to see the Marshal, while Roland
rode out with the cadet. Frau Ceres remained with the Cabinetsraethin,
and apparently caused that lady great surprise by urging her to accept
the coral necklace which she wore upon her neck, and which her friend
had so much admired.
The lady was obliged to accept it, but begged Frau Ceres to consider it
as a token of the intimacy of their private friendship, and not to
mention the gift to any one else. She repeatedly declared that she used
her interest for her friends without the least motive of selfishness.
She laid great stress upon this point, being convinced that Frau Ceres
was a party in the plan for gaining her by presents.
Frau Ceres looked at her in amazement, and thought herself again
horribly stupid; the woman was speaking of things of which she knew
nothing.
The party had not proposed to spend the night in the capital, but on
the minister's wife proposing an excursion to some pleasure-grounds,
Pranken insisted on their remaining till the next day. It would be a
great advantage to have the two open carriages, with Frau Ceres and the
Cabinetsraethin in one, and Sonnenkamp, Pranken, and the Cabinetsrath
in the other, drive through the streets of the capital to these
pleasure-grounds, where the best and most select society would be
assembled. The best society should see that Sonnenkamp was already
admitted to close intimacy with Count Pranken and the Cabinetsrath.
On the way the Cabinetsraethin was seized with an idea as amiable as
it was wise. Both these merits delighted her, and not less her own
good-nature. She should win an ally and help a poor woman. With great
condescension and pity, she spoke of Eric's mother, who had with a
foolish enthusiasm sacrificed her position to a so-called ideal love.
Here the Cabinetsraethin looked towards Pranken, between whom and
herself so close a league was already established that she did nothing
without his approval. A scarcely perceptible nod from him showing her
that she might continue, she appealed to Herr Sonnenkamp to do
something for Eric's mother; if possible, even to receive her into his
house. Aunt Claudine also was spoken of in terms of the highest praise.
The Cabinetsraethin imagined that her relations with the Sonnenkamp
household would be much more easily maintained, if the Professor's
widow and the aunt formed a part of it; then her intercourse would be
in a manner with them, and not with this man. In fact it would be her
duty to see as much as possible of these noble women, in order to
soften their position of dependence; and that advantage, with many
others, would be easily secured when she had established herself in
that country-house, which of course had several acres of vineyard
attached to it.
Thus there was a mingling of motives, with a good and animating result.
Sonnenkamp smiled blandly, but all the while was saying to
himself,--These nobles hold together more closely than a band of
thieves; in fact they are thieves, for all this impoverished nobility
wants to bolster itself up by me.
He acceded politely to the lady's proposition, with the inward
reservation, You have not that estate yet, and the Professor's widow
may sit for a while longer at her sewing-machine.
They drove by the country-seat of the Prince, who had lately returned
from America. Here everything was in perfect order, and a table, with
servants in attendance, was spread in a long, narrow pavilion erected
in a grove by the roadside. The sound of military music came from a
public garden, and the trees were hung with bright-colored lamps. The
officers of the Guard were holding a summer-fete here. Bands of music
followed each other in quick succession, one beginning to play the
moment the other ceased. The officers were already seated at a table
spread under a great tent in the middle of the public garden; while at
smaller tables near by sat the dignitaries of the capital, with their
wives and daughters, in gay summer dresses.
The two carriages drawn by Sonnenkamp's noble horses' attracted great
attention. Pranken quickly gave the necessary directions, and
established his party at one of the best tables, towards which many
eye-glasses were instantly directed. Pranken, after speaking with his
comrades and shaking hands with one and another, soon returned to
Sonnenkamp and his party.
The Cabinetsraethin leaned in the most friendly way on Sonnenkamp's arm;
Pranken escorted Frau Ceres; Roland and the cadet shot arrows at a
target, Roland always hitting the bull's eye.
Sonnenkamp was introduced to the General, and received from him a
promise soon to visit Villa Eden. Pranken was glad to be able to show a
new recruit in the person of Roland.
As evening came on, the bright-colored lamps were lighted. Suddenly
there was a firing of cannon, a beating of drums, and a shouting of
huzzas, in honor of the arrival of the Prince from his estate to grace
the banquet of the officers. Both bands struck up, "Hail to the Chief,"
and all was rejoicing. Happiest of the whole company, perhaps, was
Sonnenkamp, who had been presented to the Prince and received a few
commonplace words from him. Though the words were nothing, the world
had seen the Prince speak with him and give him a friendly greeting.
They drove back to the capital in a high state of delight. The colored
lamps kept shining and the music sounding.
The next morning it was announced in the papers:--
"Yesterday evening the cuirassiers of the guard celebrated their annual
festival on Rudolph's Hill. His Highness, Prince Leonhard, graced the
entertainment with his presence. Among the guests was Herr Sonnenkamp,
of Villa Eden, with his highly-respected family."
CHAPTER IV.
THE PLACE IS TAKEN.
While the Sonnenkamp family was at the capital, Eric rode to
Wolfsgarten. He had fought down every traitorous, unholy thought within
him, or rather had prevented such from rising, and thought only of the
obligation that rested on him to show his appreciation of the noble
friendship which Bella had certainly manifested towards him, by
speaking to her of the excellence and truly admirable elevation of her
husband's character. That was his sole purpose, and with a clear and
happy spirit he rode on his way.
He found Clodwig alone, Bella having driven out to make a visit.
Clodwig was glad to have Eric for once all to himself; in former visits
he had too often had to amuse himself with the boy, while Eric walked
with Bella. Clodwig told of the son of a friend of his, the Russian
Ambassador at Naples, who had come to pursue under his guidance the
study of husbandry in Germany. The fact of the abolition of serfdom by
the Emperor of Russia was producing a great moral and economic effect.
The landowners would have to increase their own resources, as well as
those of the soil; from mere landowners they must become husbandmen.
The young Prince, like most other princes, had been a little wild in
Paris, but there were the germs of good in him, and a power of will
which encouraged the most favorable hopes. A sort of sacred zeal for
self-sacrifice and devotion to the lower classes was not uncommon among
the Russians, and often took such strong possession of the gay and
dissipated as to recall the conversion of those saints we are told of,
who, from the wildest debauchees, have suddenly been made conscious of
their moral responsibilities.
"But be on your guard," he said, as if instructing Eric. "No
aristocracy in the world is so eager for knowledge as that of Russia;
but unhappily their zeal and aspirations run themselves out in a year
or two, and they easily fall back into lazy indifference. They have a
great talent for imitation, but how persevering it will be, or whether
they can produce anything new, remains to be proved. Perhaps this
freeing of the serfs is a great moral turning-point."
Eric thought it a glorious proof of the free spirit of the age, that
this enfranchisement was the work not of the clergy, whose office it
might seem peculiarly to be, but of pure and simple humanity, having no
ecclesiastical stamp.
"That idea had not occurred to me," answered Clodwig, expressing his
gratitude in word and tone.
The two men were still engaged in far-reaching discussions concerning
the power of the spirit, and Clodwig was just expressing his pain at
the power which brute force exercises over the spirit, so much greater
than man is willing to acknowledge to himself, when Bella entered. Her
face glowed as she greeted Eric; and her companion, an elegant but
rather blase-looking young man, gave him a gracious salutation. He was
glad, he said, that Eric spoke French so fluently, for his own German
was very clumsy; and he added that Eric's French descent was apparent
in his accent, which was such as only a French tongue was capable of.
After separating for a short time, the party reassembled for a second
breakfast in the room opening on the garden.
Clodwig must have strongly impressed upon the Russian the advantages he
would derive from intercourse with Eric, for the young man addressed
him at once by saying, "I should be very glad if you would let me learn
something from you."
He said it so confidingly, and with so much of a child's submission,
that Eric gave him his hand, saying,--
"I am sure I shall be able to learn something from you too."
"Except whist, which every one says I play exceedingly well, I am
afraid there is nothing to be learned from me," laughed the Russian.
Then, as a man who at once looks to the producers for a knowledge of
the products of a country, he said,--
"I hear that philosophy has gone out of fashion in Germany; can you
tell me any reason for the fact?"
Clodwig nodded; the topic was well chosen, and the question modestly
put.
Eric suggested as his opinion, without having any definite information
to give on the subject, that perhaps philosophy was regarded less as a
separate science, and had become the groundwork of all the sciences.
"Are you of opinion," asked the Prince, "that the categorical
imperative of Kant, and the French Revolution, have tended to the same
results?"
Bella laid back her head, and looked up into the blue sky. The men were
entering upon themes which, in deference to her, ought to be postponed
to another time, but she would be patient and listen.
Eric explained that the principle of Kant, "So act that you can wish
the rule of your actions to be the rule of all human actions,"
established the same ideal as the French Revolution, with its equality
before the law; there are to be no more privileged classes.
"But does not this equality destroy all greatness, all genius?" asked
the Russian.
Bella thought this a good opportunity for breaking her silence, and
quickly choosing her side, she added:--.
"I would go further, and ask if richly endowed natures do not make new
laws in the intellectual and political world, as well as the aesthetic."
Clodwig smiled to hear his wife thus trotting out her hobby-horse, but
Eric answered, smilingly,--"That is the miserable mistake for which
Jesuitism in the Church, and frivolity in the world, are equally
answerable. Peculiar natures have been granted by the world, and have
come to claim for themselves, certain exceptional privileges and
immunities, which, if generally allowed, would be subversive of human
society. What are called superior natures have greater responsibilities
than others, but no exceptional rights. Before God and the moral sense
of humanity, we are all equal, as Christianity exhaustively expresses
in the words, 'we are all children of God.' Children are equal before
their father. But the Church grants indulgences; the State, rights of
primogeniture; sophistry, moral exemptions. No single man of iron will
come to establish the new kingdom of equality; the kingdom is at hand;
its road is the iron rail, its horse is the steam."
"You speak well; it is a great pleasure to me to have made your
acquaintance," said the Prince to Eric. "I pray you to come often to
see me; or will you let me come to you?"
Eric, who, in his excitement, had said more than he intended, expressed
his thanks, saying at the same time that he must consecrate his time
and strength to his pupil. He was angry with himself at thus speaking
out his whole heart on every occasion, instead of adopting the light
conversational tone of society. He thought he knew what the young noble
meant by his compliment. A beautiful way of speaking, indeed! A new
dish, a new sauce, new music, charming capriccios! None but a fool
would expose the treasures of his heart to them.
Eric was struck with the expression of Bella's face; it was set and
hard. What have I done, she thought, that he should read me such a
lesson about no one claiming exemption from the rule of morality? She
was thoroughly angry, and with difficulty forced a smile to her face.
She soon controlled herself, however, and managed to make the two young
men enter upon a little passage of arms before her.
The Prince had the advantage of Eric in a knowledge of current events,
and in practical experience of the world. Eric readily granted the
victory to be on his opponent's side in many instances.
As they were walking in the garden, the Prince leaning familiarly on
Eric's arm, he asked if Eric was acquainted with Herr Weidmann, to whom
Clodwig intended to send him.
Eric replied that he had only seen him once or twice, but that he was
universally esteemed.
"If you should happen to have any friend like yourself," said the
Prince, pressing Eric's arm as he spoke, "if you should know any one
whom you could recommend to be my guide and instructor, I could make
provision for him for life, or--excuse the question--would you yourself
perhaps--?"
Eric declined the honor, but promised to bear the subject of an
instructor in mind.
Bella joined them, and Eric walked by the side of the other two, his
mind agitated by a variety of emotions. He had pondered so carefully on
the best way of drawing himself and Bella back from that dangerous
boundary line of friendship, and here his pains had been thrown away,
for another already occupied his place. His vanity was secretly wounded
that this man of the world, with his prettily-dressed nothings, should
at once have become a greater favorite than he with his tiresome
solidities and all his historical luggage. At heart he was indignant at
Bella's familiarity with the Russian, and a strange confusion of
feeling arose within him. Should he be glad to think this woman nothing
but a coquette, trifling now with one man and now with another? or did,
Bella thus act only to make less marked her intimacy with himself,
which she desired not to display before others?
His mind was harassed by opposite emotions; one moment he was glad of
the lesson he had received, for now he could go back to his work with
an unburdened mind; the next he was again angry with himself for his
ignorance of the ways of polite society.
The Doctor's arrival changed as usual the current of the conversation.
One sharp glance embraced Bella, Eric, and the Russian, and seemed to
reveal to him their respective positions. Bella and the Doctor always
had a little private warfare going on between them.
CHAPTER V.
A HARSH JUDGMENT.
The Doctor desired Eric to tie his horse to the back of the carriage,
and drive with him part way to the villa.
When the two were seated together, the Doctor began, after first
puffing out a long breath:--
"A beautiful woman is Countess Bella, and a clever. She loves her
parrot, which, apparently, is allowed to fly at liberty in the forest,
but must return obediently to his mistress's shoulder."
"Permit me one observation," interrupted Eric. "I have noticed that
here in the country, and wherever the society is limited, the
conversation is apt to turn upon a third person, and generally--not in
your case, perhaps, but in the case of most persons whom I have heard
talk--in a not very charitable way. Do you not consider this a proof of
narrowness, or whatever else of that nature you may choose to call it?"
The Doctor perceived that Eric was disinclined to pursue this subject,
but he nevertheless replied:--
"The human race affords the most abundant material for conversation,
and of that race the most inexhaustible matter is furnished by the
variety woman. I am not meaning now to speak of Bella, but of myself. I
have discovered in this woman an entirely new variety."
"With your permission, honored Herr Doctor, the Countess seems to be in
perfect health."
"Did you never know Frau Bella before?"
"But slightly," said Eric reluctantly.
"I, however, knew her well. She made a marriage of convenience, as many
others have done, and I think none the worse of her for it. My opinion
on such matters differs from that of most men. The Countess is modest
as far as her talents are concerned, but is proud of her morality. I
happen to know that she told the Count before the betrothal, that she
was too insignificant for him, was, in fact, not worthy of him. In
regard to intellect, her modesty was sincere, though somewhat
exaggeratedly expressed. She has talent, but no soul; she is all
seasoning, no solid food. But morally this confession was perfectly
true; morality with her is only propriety."
"I must beg you--" interposed Eric.
"And I must beg you," broke in the Doctor, "to let me finish my
sentence. Her morality I mean is that of the world, which considers
only the outward marriage essential, and knows no relation of marriage
save a relation of the outward tie. To Count Clodwig, purity and beauty
are a law; every sin against them offends his nature; he could not be
guilty of the smallest violation of them, even if no mortal eye should
detect it."
In the pause which ensued, Eric's heart beat hard. Was the man
describing Clodwig's purity, in order to show him how base would be the
slightest approach to injuring or betraying such a friend?
The Doctor continued:--
"A man can receive no higher honor than that of being Clodwig's friend.
I do not love the aristocracy; nay, I may even say I hate them; but in
this Count Clodwig there is a nobleness which perhaps can only come to
perfection through the fostering care of generations, and cannot be
fully developed among us commoners, where everything is a fresh
conquest smelling of the new varnish, which is always likely to crack
away. There is a steady, even temperature about Clodwig, never
amounting to a hot blaze, but always a beneficent warmth. You see I
have learned from you to make illustrations," he said playfully, then
continued, more seriously:--
"His one passion is for rest, which makes it the more remarkable that
he should have sacrificed so much of it for your sake. I do not agree
with the wicked world in pronouncing Countess Bella to be a very dragon
of virtue. On the contrary, she must have every week, or every month at
farthest, some fair name to destroy, or, better, some guilty person to
use her cat's claws upon; like a well-trained hound, she likes best to
attack a poor hare in the eyes; then she is satisfied, perfectly polite
and obliging, harming nobody, for she is not really cruel and pitiless.
She speaks very kindly of any one so long as he is unfortunate; when
people are humbled she readily pardons them; as soon as a man is sick
she is most kindly disposed towards him, but as long as he keeps well
he need expect nothing but severity from her. She has beautiful and
abundant hair, but that does not please her so much as the being able
to tell of this woman or that, how many pounds of false hair she wears.
If she can say that any woman is scrofulous, she is quite happy; for
she would have only the Prankens perfectly sound. Once let her make an
assertion, and she never retreats from it; better that her husband,
Pranken, the whole world, should be illogical, than that she should be
mistaken. Bella von Wolfsgarten never allows herself to be mistaken.
She has never worn an unbecoming dress, has never said a word which
might not be engraved upon stone. That she calls character; that she
calls strength,--never to confess to a mistake. Let the logic of the
whole world go to the devil first! She can make the eggs dance nicely
in conversation. Did you ever receive one of her dainty little notes?
She can dance even upon paper with the most supple grace."
Eric passed his hand across his brow; he no longer knew where he was.
The Doctor threw away a half-smoked cigar, and continued:--
"The wicked world hopes, and, alas! its hopes cannot be fulfilled
without stabbing our noble Clodwig to the heart,--it hopes that this
dragon of virtue will one day find its unsaintly George. But that would
have to be a man whose ambition is, as we say, to be successful with
the women; not one to whom the words love, magnanimity, aspiration, are
realities, and who could not use them as a cloak for other ends."
Eric knew not what to answer. He clenched his fist to keep himself
still, for he felt himself trembling.
The Doctor pulled a string which brought the drag against the wheel;
the wagon went creaking and scraping down the hill; they looked over
the precipice, at the bottom of which a little brook was babbling over
rocks. Such an abyss had opened before Eric. When they were driving
again comfortably through the valley, the Doctor resumed:--
"When I say the wicked world, I am not using merely a figure of speech.
I must explain to you what this new variety is that I have discovered
in Frau Bella. It is this. There have been, and there exist still, many
women who are, or who imagine themselves to be, no matter which, very
unhappy, or consider themselves very unfortunate because they have such
inferior husbands,--men who love horses, dogs, and such like, while
they themselves are lofty, unappreciated, ethereal souls. This new
variety, however, which Frau Bella represents, is different. She is
unhappy because of the greatness of her husband. Had she one of those
well-trained puppets which are in the world for the purpose of wearing
a court-dress, she might be unhappy, but loftily so; she could look
upon herself as a fair flower-crowned victim, suffer with patience,
bewail her fate, be on a pinnacle in fact, a being ever debarred from
the noblest emotions of the heart. But by the side of the husband she
has, she grows constantly more odious, more insignificant. He
humiliates her by casting her into the shade; nay, more: by condemning
her immature ideas only by a raising of his eyebrows. In fact,--she
does not, I think, acknowledge it to herself,--she hates her husband
for making solemn earnest of her light trifling with intellectual and
moral things; he compels her to acknowledge mistakes and follies, and
severely enough is he punished for doing so. I understand now the fable
of the Harpies. The modern harpies besmear every noble thought till it
becomes unpalatable and nauseous; and thus must Clodwig wrestle and
fight for the common daily bread of the spirit. With all this, she is
not without nobleness; she likes to help the sick, only is somewhat
despotic in recommending her remedies. But do you know what the most
dangerous thing about Frau Bella is?"
"Indeed I do not; I cannot imagine what climax you have yet to reach."
"A very simple one. We hear the devil talked about in the churches,
but in these days he appears as a very complaisant, very noble and
self-sacrificing demon, who comes to us and says,--Here, you are the
friend of this woman; avail yourself of her esteem for you, her
confidence in you, to put her in the right frame of mind; you must
teach her to appreciate her husband, to honor him as he desires to be
honored. This sophistical demon seems to be very subtle, but is really
the clumsiest of all; for never did one human being learn to value
another, least of all, a wife her husband, through a third person's
influence. There is a final impulse of life, and a final impulse of
love, which must come from the person himself; and where that does not
exist, the tongues of angels would be employed in vain. Have you seen
the head of Medusa? The ancients esteemed the victory over Medusa to be
the greatest achievement of Theseus; she is poisonous beauty. In
ancient times she hardened men to stone, in modern, she softens them
into effeminacy. I have a special hatred against this Frau Bella; do
you know why? Because she makes a hypocrite of me every time I go to
Wolfsgarten. I have no business to be so polite as I am to her; and the
fact that I am so, out of regard to Clodwig, is no excuse. No one has
such a bad effect upon me as this Frau Bella; she makes a hypocrite of
me, and she kindles in me such a passion for destruction as I had not
thought myself capable of. She is a quack doctress. If I prescribe a
medicine, she always knows beforehand what I am going to prescribe.
Medicinally I have pretty much broken down her pretensions, but
intellectually she has more than ever. She has family medicines and
figures of speech at her tongue's end, as if she had been a deep
student, whereas the root of her whole nature is want of reverence, an
impertinent meddling with every subject; for everything is a vain show
to her mind; she has no respect even for herself, knowing that she is
herself nothing but a vain show. One deep-rooted trait in her is
ingratitude. Come what may to her, she will still be ungrateful. If you
want to see the exact opposite to Bella, look at the Major, who is
grateful for everything, even for the very air he breathes. That old
child of a Major is seventy years old, and has not yet lost faith in
human goodness. If the devil incarnate were to appear, he would find
something good in him; but this Bella is without principle. A man may
be evil-minded, and yet have strength and active powers left for the
world's service; but an evil-minded woman is wholly evil and only evil.
Do you know who would be a fit mate for Frau Bella?"
"I know nothing about it," cried Eric in despair; he felt as if he must
jump out of the wagon.
"The only man who would do for her, the only man capable of subduing
and governing this whole menagerie which bears the name of Bella, is
Herr Sonnenkamp; in fact, there is a secret sympathy between them."
Eric was glad he could laugh; but the Doctor continued:--
"I am a heretic, my young friend; I believe that woman is an inferior
variety in the human race. A man can never be so bad as a woman, can
never be so hypocritical. For the latter quality, to be sure, women are
not responsible, having been taught from childhood that the world cares
only for appearances. But the main defect is, that they have no broad
humanity; they, do not go down to the first principles from which all
things start; they regard everything as being sewed and colored, in the
same way that their hats and mantillas are by the mantuamakers. On the
other hand, they stand under the curse of the beasts: they cannot
heartily rejoice with another; slander is a peculiar symptom of
blood-thirstiness. Throughout all nature, the female is the crudest."
Eric sat still and heard all this talked at him. When they arrived at
the place where the Doctor was to get out, the good man puffed out
another long breath, and said, his face glowing with his earnestness,--
"Now I, feel better. I have been choking with this for a long while.
Thank you for having listened so patiently. Young friend," he
continued, laying his hand kindly on Eric's shoulder, "I am angry with
the poets, who, from fear of giving offence to women, have dressed up
this clever show-woman. If I have said too much of Frau Bella, as is
possible, I yet pray you to keep in mind the truths I have told of her,
which I have not exaggerated, and which I am ready any moment to
maintain."
Eric took his horse by the bridle, but did not mount; he travelled on,
lost in thought. That he should have heard such things against Bella,
and should have so poorly defended her, pained him. With a look almost
of devotion he gazed upward to the cloudless heaven above him; he would
keep himself free from the guilt of palliating his own faults. His
heart turned to Roland, and something within him said, I hope from this
time to be worthy to educate a human being; for never again shall any
criminal trifling with thoughts and feelings have place in me. I was
vain; I was pleased at appearing brilliant, at being praised by a
handsome woman, at feeling the light touch of her warm glove upon my
hand. No such man should dare to say, I will in all purity educate a
human being. I hope now I am a man who can.
With a feeling of inward happiness he pursued his way and reached the
villa.
A telegram was awaiting him, saying that the family would spend the
night in the capital.
Eric was alone.
CHAPTER VI.
A RECEIPT FOR THE FIRST INSTALMENT OF SALARY.
Frau Ceres expressed herself in the morning strongly disinclined to
return to the villa. The fete on Rudolph's hill still floated before
her fancy, and she wanted to have another just like it to-day. She
urged the Cabinetsraethin at least to go back with her to the villa and
make her a visit. The invitation was declined, but a visit promised at
an early date.
Frau Ceres was so much out of spirits, that to cheer her up Sonnenkamp
made Pranken sit in the carriage with her, while he drove with Roland.
When he was alone with his son, he questioned him on all kinds of
subjects; he even went so far as to ask him how often Eric visited the
Countess Bella, and whether they often took walks alone together.
Roland was perplexed.
On the road they overtook the saddle-horses, which had been sent
homewards in advance of the party. The horses were wholly enveloped in
coverings, so that only their eyes and feet were visible. Sonnenkamp
ordered a halt to be made; the creatures' great eyes were fixed with a
singular expression on their master from under their close coverings.
He severely reprimanded one of the grooms, whom he had seen at a
distance sitting on one of the horses instead of walking by the
animal's side. The next act of disobedience should lose the man his
place. As they drove on, Roland made the remark that these horses were
better clothed than many men.
Sonnenkamp threw a sidelong glance of surprise at his son, but made no
answer.
All at once Roland beckoned to the driver to stop. He had noticed by
the road-side the teamster, employed in carting the stone bottles to
the mineral-spring, whom he had walked with on that eventful night.
Alighting, Roland held out his hand to the man and requested him to
tell the hostler, when he met him, that he was innocent; whereupon he
resumed his seat in the carriage, the teamster all the while staring
after him, while his father desired him to tell him more about the
strange rencontre.
Roland related all he knew, not omitting the legend of the laughing
sprite; but the story about this sprite seemed to have no effect upon
Sonnenkamp's risibles; and when Roland remarked, that he liked to
familiarize himself with the life of poor people battling with abject
misery, Sonnenkamp whistled the inaudible tune to himself. At the same
time, the more Roland talked, the more surprised did his father appear
at the mental activity of the lad; and the conversation in the old
castle, after Claus had questioned him, was brought back to his mind
with strange associations and connections.
Sonnenkamp was inwardly debating what to do. To dismiss Eric on the
spot would not answer, on Roland's account; such peremptory dismissal
might only make him cling all the more obstinately to his erroneous
views and tendencies. Besides, it would be ill-advised to bring about a
rupture with Eric, on account of the Cabinetsraethin, especially since
she had expressed herself strongly on the point of procuring the
assistance of Eric's mother; above all else, however, Clodwig had to be
considered, for the connection with Clodwig was not Pranken's, but
Eric's work, and Clodwig was the most powerful ally in the execution of
the plan.
Sonnenkamp was actuated by a twofold jealousy: the clergy had taken one
child from him; this time, a man of the world was on the point of
taking away the other. He did not disapprove in direct terms of Eric's
ideas, he merely cautioned his son as to there being no need of such
utter submission to a paid person, adding that he saw no necessity of
his fretting too much about his studies, which might do well enough for
people who had to fight their way in life, but certainly not for a
young man who required just about knowledge enough to be able to
express an opinion of his own. He admonished his son not to allow his
life to be disturbed by fantasies; and found it an easy task once more
to make the glitter of a soldier's life in the capital appear very
attractive to him.
Soon after the first salutations were exchanged, Sonnenkamp enquired of
Eric where he had been the day before; putting this question very much
like a master, whose servant's time is by right his own, and who is
therefore justified in demanding a proper account thereof.
Eric told him of his visit to Wolfsgarten, dwelling more particularly
on a description of the Russian prince.
Sonnenkamp smiled; he was pleased to see, that this proud virtue knew
so well how to hide his deviations from the straight path.
Roland was evidently inclined to break through the strict discipline
which Eric had introduced, and which he himself had re-established;
whenever he stayed through a lesson he looked sullen, the instigations
of his father beginning to show their effect. A glance at Eric
frequently would show the latter, that Roland almost looked upon him as
his jailor. Hitherto Roland had only seen things with Eric's eyes, and
regarded whatever happened to him as if he were expected to accept it
for Eric's sake, all this was now at an end. In the dim distance still
resounded, the notes of martial music and the laughter of military
officers conversing gaily.
Eric could not but notice this change in his pupil; it made him feel
sad. He could devote all his energy to Roland. Roland received it much
against his will; and since he no longer hesitated to manifest his
displeasure, his ill-humor of old returned and revived. Again and again
the hardship of a tutor's profession presented itself to Eric's mind.
He lived the past over again. In his garrison, when off duty, he had
lived quietly by himself; at the parental home he was allowed to
indulge in his own fancies, his mother having been habituated by his
father to the belief that she ought to wait quietly to be spoken to,
inasmuch as learned men ought not to be disturbed in their reflections;
and Eric had been treated in the same way: he was never disturbed, and
was left entirely to his own thoughts. Now, however, at table, or while
out driving, he had to answer the numerous queries of both pupil and
father, who were fond of asking questions, and having intricate ones
solved for them. For a long, long time, he had been accustomed to an
independent life, devoted to his own mental improvement; now, however,
it seemed to him as if, together with his state of servitude, he were
losing himself, as if he were but the shadow of his former past, and
nothing new nor fresh was stirring in him, while all his former
thoughts and feelings appeared to require a forcible awakening. Eric
mourned over his mental decline. Formerly he had hardly dared to
confess to himself, that he had derived new animation and pleasure from
being near Bella--and that was to cease henceforth. What then remained
for him?
He stood aghast at perceiving, that the whole sanctity of his inner
self had been staked on another being, and a new revelation came to
him, which made Sonnenkamp's dissatisfaction, as well as that of his
pupil, appear as a just penalty. He redoubled his zeal, but in vain.
An event, seemingly trifling, and of a surprising nature, brought the
disturbing elements to a crisis. Sonnenkamp paid Eric the first
instalment of his salary in Roland's presence, looking all the while
triumphantly at his son. Eric trembled, but quickly recovered his
self-control. He took the gold and advanced a step or two towards the
window at which Roland was standing. Sonnenkamp supposed, for a moment,
that he was going to throw the gold out of the window, but Eric said,
in a tone of forced composure:--
"Roland, take my pay and carry the money to my room. There you may wait
for me."
Roland took the gold, looking confusedly at his father and Eric.
"Do me the favor of carrying that gold to my room," repeated Eric. "And
now go." Roland went. He carried the money as if it were a heavy
burden, and repaired to Eric's room, where he deposited it on the
table. He then turned to go, when the thought suddenly occurred to him,
that he ought also to watch it; he was on the point of locking the
room, when he remembered, that Eric had ordered him to wait for his
coming. He stood there, while everything seemed to be whirling around.
What had happened?
Suddenly Pranken came in to bid him good-bye. He congratulated Roland
upon his speedy deliverance from Eric. Then only did he realize what
had happened, and what was to follow. Pranken referred slightingly to
Eric, as to a man to whom he might make certain concessions from sheer
pity. Merrily he bade Roland farewell. After he had gone. Roland felt
that he could no longer have any love for Pranken, and realized a sense
of loss; he quietly remained standing at the table, looking down upon
the money before him. In a childlike way he began to count the sum
Eric had received. For what length of time had he received it? He could
not make it out, and turned angrily aside to look out of the window.
Behind him on the table lay the money; he felt as if somebody near him
were whispering all the time: Forget me not!
Meanwhile Eric was still in the room with Sonnenkamp, who, with an air
of great astonishment, said,--
"You are wantonly destroying all attachment between us."
Eric replied, that he might perhaps have chosen a more appropriate
time, and that nothing but the manner in which he had been paid had
compelled him to act as he had done.
"Have I hurt your feelings?"
"I am not very sensitive. I appreciate money as far as it deserves to
appreciated and am always pleased at receiving my honest wages. I am
inclined to think that I love your son more than--no matter! there is
no standard to measure love by,--it can only be measured by itself."
"I am obliged to you."
"I beg your pardon, sir; allow me to finish my sentence. Just because I
love your son, I prefer to have the blame fall upon me rather than upon
his father."
"Upon me?"
"Yes, sir. I might have paid you back for the way in which you paid me
off in my pupil's presence; I might have told you that free labor--I
abstain from using the word love, and simply confine myself to refer to
such work as one man will do freely for another--can never be paid. I
suppressed my feelings, because I wished that your son should love and
respect you more than he does other people, than even myself."
Sonnenkamp clenched his fists. He stared at Eric for awhile, but soon
looked down; he had to exert great self-control in order not to betray
that he trembled.
At last he said,--
"I don't know what you mean by some expressions you have used, and I
don't want to know. But I am the man to put a bullet through the
forehead of him who attempts----"
"I very readily comprehend your excitement," said Eric, quietly
straightening himself up and looking Sonnenkamp coolly in the face.
"Who are you? Who am I?" asked Sonnenkamp, while his features were
strangely distorted.
"I am your son's tutor, and I know the accountableness of my position;
I am in your service; this is your house, you can turn me out of it at
once."
"I will not do that--not that! Have I said that I would? I must only
explain myself to you, and you must explain yourself to me. Have you
not said to Roland that the time will come, or has already come, when
there would no longer be any private property?"
Eric assured him that he had not the remotest purpose of doing anything
of the kind; he was sorry that he made use of the illustration, and
regretted Roland's misconception.
"Let us sit down," said Sonnenkamp, his knees trembling. "Let us talk
calmly, like reasonable men, like friends, if I may be allowed to say
so."
He whistled to himself, and then said, in a wholly different tone,--
"I must tell you, that irrespective of this mistake, your whole tone of
thought seems to me dangerous to my son. You seem to me, in fact, a
philanthropist, and I honor that; you are one of those persons who
would like to thank every common laborer in the road for his toil, and
pay him also as much as possible. You see I believe your philanthropy
is genuine, and not taken up merely for the sake of popularity. But
this philanthropy--I speak without any disguise--is not the thing for
my son. My son will have, at some time, a princely income; and if a
rich man must go through life in this way, always looking around to see
where there is poverty, where there is not adequate compensation, he
would be condemned to greater wretchedness than the beggar in the
ditch. The worst thing that could be done to my son would be to make
him sentimental, or even pitiful and compassionate. I am not one of
those men, and I would not have my son to be one, who are eternally
longing after the ineffable, and, as I believe, unattainable; I want
for myself and for my son a practical enjoyment of existence. Believe
me, a contraband-trade will be driven in feelings, if one persuades
himself that men in lower conditions have the same susceptibilities
that we have."
"I thank you," replied Eric, "for this straightforward plainness of
speech, and I am glad that you have given me the opportunity to tell
you that I have endeavored to make Roland good-hearted, but not
weak-hearted. He is to comprehend the goodly advantages of his life, so
that he may receive and make his own the noblest and the highest; he is
to be a noble administrator of the grand power that is to be put into
his hands."
Eric unfolded this more in detail, and Sonnenkamp, extending his hand
to him, said,--
"You are--you are--a noble man, you have also to be my educator. Forget
what has happened. I trust you now, unconditionally. I confide in you,
that you will not alienate from me the heart of my child, that you will
not make him a soft-hearted helper of everybody, and everything."
Sonnenkamp jerked these words out forcibly, for he inwardly chafed,
that this man, whom he wanted to humble, had humbled him, so that he
was compelled to stand before him like a beggar, entreating a stranger
not to alienate from him the heart of his child.
"Why,"--he at last began again, "I pray you, I only ask for
information, for I am convinced that you have good grounds for every
such step,"--a spiteful glance, notwithstanding all his guarded
discretion, gleamed forth at this question--"I only ask for
information, why you have restrained Roland from making a free use of
his purse, as, since my return, I have been informed is the case."
"I cannot give definite reasons for all my doings, but I have a valid
one for this. Roland lavishes and squanders money, and he does it
ignorantly and wantonly, while I consider the control of money a part
of self-control."
And now Eric informed Sonnenkamp what an impression the robbery had
made upon Roland. Exultantly Sonnenkamp cried out:--
"I am rejoiced that he has found out so early how completely one is
surrounded in the world by knaves; he will be cautious whenever he
comes to manage his own affairs. Yes, Herr Philosopher, write down in
your books: The one trait in which man surpasses the brutes is, that
man is the only animal who can dissemble and can lie. And the sooner
and the more perfectly my son can know that fact, so much the better am
I pleased. I should be very glad if Roland had been through the second
grade of schools."
"The second grade?"
"Yes; the first is, to bestow benefits upon people, and then to get an
insight into their rascality; the second is, to play games of chance,
believing that one can make any gain thereby. Debts of beneficence and
debts of the gaming-table are not very willingly paid."
There was a certain fatherly tone in Sonnenkamp's voice, as he praised
Eric's transcendental benevolent intents, at the same time warning him
of the baseness of the whole brood of human creatures. His fundamental
maxim was, that man is a wolf to his fellow-man.
When Eric came to Roland, the latter stretched out both his hands to
him.
"I thank you," cried the boy, "for treating me as my father treated
you; yes, I will have nothing more to do with money. I beseech you,
forgive my father for paying you like a servant."
Eric had great difficulty in making an explanation to the boy, so as
not to disturb and bewilder his natural feelings and perceptions. The
son must preserve love and respect for his father.
"Put away the gold," Roland entreated. Eric immediately put it away out
of sight, for he saw how it annoyed the youth.
"Give me something," he then besought,
"I have nothing to give," answered Eric. "But you will know henceforth,
that one human being can give something to another which is of more
value than all the gold in the world; we will both hold fast the
proverb: A friend who can desert you was never your friend."
Roland kissed the hand which had received the gold. Eric was opposed to
all sentimentality, but here he had witnessed the opening of a flower,
and had inhaled its earliest fragrance, and this flower was a youth's
heart.
"We will go and see the Major," said Roland at last; it was evident
that he wanted to be with some person who had nothing to do with all
this perplexity, and simply lived his own quiet life.
They went to the Major's, but did not find him in. They walked for a
long time together, until after dark, without speaking a word.
Sonnenkamp also walked about the park in the silent night, inwardly
chafing at the thought that there was always something to conceal, for
a single expression of Eric's that day had awakened a powerful struggle
within him. That expression was, free labor. And then he began to
wonder how it had happened that he had allowed himself to do anything
to wound Eric, while it was still his intention to send for his mother.
It produced a thrill of satisfaction in him, when he thought how
infinitely charitable people would consider that. If he himself could
only have believed that it was true charity! But he knew what his own
object really was. No matter! If the world believes in the noble and
kindly, that is enough. She who is rouged, knows that she has not red
cheeks, but she takes pleasure in the thought that the world believes
she has, and she is gay and girlish.
Sonnenkamp had desired that Pranken should purchase the neighboring
villa which they wished to sell to the Cabinetsraethin. Pranken had
declined to do it in a friendly manner, and for good reasons, that it
would seem a natural measure for Sonnenkamp to take, in order to secure
a good neighbor. Sonnenkamp did not know whether to hope or fear that
Pranken had already taken measures beforehand, and thereby made a
profit for himself. Was he to be over-reached? But it would be fine if
his son-in-law had such a prudent eye to his own advantage.
Sonnenkamp did not concern himself much the next few days with house or
garden, with Roland or Eric; he visited the country-house, offered to
purchase the vineyards appertaining to it, and became completely
convinced that Pranken had taken no steps in the matter. He was well
satisfied to acknowledge to himself that he had not been thoroughly
acquainted with the nature of the nobility; Pranken was a man who would
have nothing to do with any clandestine methods of gaining a pecuniary
profit.
The Wine-count was his principal competitor for the country-house
offered for sale; it was said he wanted to purchase it for his
son-in-law, the son of the Marshal of the Prince's household.
Sonnenkamp closed the bargain immediately.
CHAPTER VII.
NOT EASILY DIGESTED BY ONE OF THE GUESTS.
If Claus had heard in prison that Sonnenkamp had bought another
country-house, he would certainly have exclaimed,--
"Yes, indeed. Of course he'll buy up the whole Rhineland yet." But he
learned nothing of it.
The legal inquiry was protracted, and the Judge was sufficiently well
disposed to draw up new papers for the interrogation of Eric and Roland
at the villa; yet this unpleasant occurrence interrupted the course of
instruction more than one could have believed.
Entertainments also were not wanting, for Roland one day announced to
Eric:--
"Count Wolfsgarten is to give a grand fete; father and mother are
rejoiced; and you and I are also invited."
Sonnenkamp was very well satisfied with Pranken for having brought this
about; Eric's cooperation was no longer of any account. It was settled
with Pranken, that Clodwig, who was the most influential member of the
Committee for conferring nobility, should be gained over to favor the
object now exclusively occupying their attention, and induced to take
actively the initiative.
Sonnenkamp stood before his armory, and before the large money-safe
built into the walls; here were many potent agencies, but they were of
no help in this matter, where personal influence alone availed. He was
despondent for a short time; then he proudly drew himself up, thinking
that he had already succeeded in other undertakings, and here also
there would not be wanting to him the requisite means.
He had a severe contest with Frau Ceres on the day they were to go to
the fete; she wanted to wear all her jewelry to dinner, and even
Fraeulein Perini could not divert her from her purpose, by representing
how irrefragably settled it was that no diamonds should be worn by
daylight. Frau Ceres wept like a little child, and she preferred to
remain at home if this pleasure was begrudged her.
Sonnenkamp entreated her to dress plainly, and not annoy the Countess
by wearing jewels worth twenty times what she herself possessed; and it
was promised her, that at the next fete given at the house, she might
appear in full costume.
But Frau Cores persisted in saying that she would not accompany them if
she could not wear her jewels.
"Well, then," said Sonnenkamp, "I will send a messenger to Wolfsgarten
immediately, to inform them that you will remain at home."
He had a groom sent for at once, and gave him orders to saddle a horse,
in order to ride immediately to Wolfsgarten. He went off. Frau Ceres'
look followed him with a very angry glance; she was then the miserable
child who must remain at home, when all the rest were going to the
fete. After a time, she hastened to Sonnenkamp's room, and announced
that she would go with them in the way they desired.
Sonnenkamp regretted that he had already sent the messenger off, and
now Frau Ceres besought him, with tears, to send a second messenger
announcing her coming. Sonnenkamp asserted that this was no longer
possible, but finally yielded. He went himself to the stables, and had
nothing further to do than to say to the groom,--
"Take off the saddle!" for he had not sent him away, knowing that Frau
Ceres would, after a while, beseech him like a child.
They drove to Wolfsgarten. Frau Bella was extremely glad to be able to
welcome the Cabinetsraethin; she was very amiable, and looked to-day
lovelier than ever. She had a friendly word for everybody, and she was
especially gracious to Eric. She thought that, at his last visit, he
seemed to be a little out of tune, and she wished now to dissipate any
such feeling by exhibiting a decided preference.
Eric received the friendly attention gratefully, but very coldly, as
the sharp-eyed woman did not fail to perceive.
Sonnenkamp, who had quick perception, held his breath as a hunter does,
when the game comes within range of his shot. Indeed, thought he, they
know how to play a good game! The reputation of this house for virtue
had hitherto weighed upon him somewhat, but now he moved about with a
sort of home feeling.
It was a little court assembled here, and the etiquette, though
savoring of rural freedom, was not the less precise. A large number of
prominent personages were collected, and the fact was the more
striking, because they were brought together from scattered points of
country life; it was a group of separate and independent individuals
drawn hither from their retirement. The larger portion were officers
who had retired on pensions, or been honorably discharged from the
service; there were red, yellow, and blue ribbons of different orders
modestly tied in the button-holes; the old gentlemen had their hair
carefully dressed, and their beards freshly colored; the ladies showed
that they had sojourned at Paris some weeks in the year to some
purpose.
The conversation was carried on in French, out of regard to a French
lady.
A celebrated musician had also been invited, now staying at the
country-house of a brother-artist, who had married a former
music-pupil, a rich heiress, and had gained a highly respectable
standing in the neighborhood.
Except Eric, Herr Sonnenkamp and the musical-artist were the only
untitled personages in the company; his genius raised the artist, and
his millions the rich man, into the new atmosphere. The Wine-cavalier
might already be considered as one of the nobility, for it was known
that his whole family were to be ennobled very soon. The newly
betrothed couple had also been invited, but on the day of the fete, a
letter was received which contained the information, couched in
courteous terms of regret, that the bridegroom, having been taken
slightly ill, was unable to be present, and the bride had therefore
remained at home. No one of the Wine-count's family made his
appearance, except the Wine-cavalier, who expressed in renewed terms
regret for the indisposition of his future brother-in-law.
A famous portrait-painter was also present, who had been for several
weeks at the country-house of the Wine-count in order to paint
life-size portraits of the betrothed couple. He was very much the
fashion, and was very successful in pearls, lace, and gray satin, and
also in faces, except that they all had a strong tinge of blue; but he
was very popular with the court, and there could be no question but
that he was the only man to paint the distinguished bride.
The Russian Prince was, of course, a star of the first magnitude.
Sonnenkamp occupied the place of honor next to Frau Bella, and on the
other side sat the Prince. Clodwig had Frau Ceres by his side, and the
Major was very naturally seated next, as an efficient ally. Clodwig
entertained Frau Ceres in a very friendly way, and she ate freely
to-day, out of embarrassment, without Sonnenkamp's intervention.
Sonnenkamp had brought into play his old weapons of gallantry, but he
seemed to have no success, for Bella did not half listen to him, giving
much of her attention to the conversation of Eric with the Russian.
All at once the conversation between different individuals ceased, as
the Prince asked Herr Sonnenkamp,--
"Do they also designate the slaves in America as souls?"
"I do not understand your meaning."
"I mean that in Russia we designate the serfs as souls: a man is said
to have so many hundred or thousand souls; and do they call them so in
America too?"
"No."
"It is questioned indeed," interposed Clodwig, "whether the niggers
really have souls. Humboldt relates that the savages have the notion
that apes also can speak, but that they purposely refrain from doing
so, because they are afraid that they also shall be compelled to work
if it is known that they can speak."
A general laugh proceeded from the company at table, and Clodwig
added,--
"If we dig up the smallest vessel belonging to the Greek and Roman age,
we discover always some sort of beauty; but, so far as I am acquainted,
the niggers have never embodied a single new beautiful form."
"Neither have they," interposed the Prince, "as has been said, ever
invented even a mouse-trap!"
"Not even that," replied Clodwig. "The question comes up, whether the
negroes can be inheritors of civilization, for they are not inheritors
of the beautiful human form as it has been handed down to us from
Egypt, Greece, and Rome, and so cannot become cultivators of the
plastic arts; and art alone is the ennobler of humanity. They cannot
create the beautiful after their likeness; and as it is said, 'God made
man after his image,' so man fashions his gods after his own likeness,
which the negroes cannot do. Perhaps in the coming time they will
create something for themselves, but not for others; and they are
therefore not partakers of the inheritance, for they are not included
in the great human brotherhood, which is not to be entered by force."
Sonnenkamp looked up; his whole countenance expanded. This is the
utterance of a man whose love of humanity is not to be questioned.
"That is a fact!" he interposed. "There is no sentimentalism in
America: our plain common-sense views are declared heterodox indeed by
pedantic wisdom, and branded as inhumanity, but there is a priesthood
of so-called humanity; and it has its inquisition as well as the other
priesthood."
Sonnenkamp spoke with a concentrated scorn, with a repelling violence,
which clearly showed how unsuitable he considered the topic introduced
by the Prince, although he had done it in a most civil manner. Clodwig
thought that he ought to come to his assistance, and he began in a low
tone but became more animated as he went on.
"Whoever considers historical facts with coolness and impartiality sees
that the Idea is continually unfolding, working long in stillness, but
without cessation; and this silent working goes on, until some
unexpected fact which has nothing in common with the Idea brings it
into clear light and perfect development. The Idea only prepares the
way by setting the tune; the fact is irrefragable, and performs an
actual part."
Bella said something in a low tone to the Prince on her right, but
Clodwig was well aware that it was meant for an apology for his
somewhat heavy and abstract statement; with a hardly perceptible twinge
of his face, and his lips drawn somewhat pointedly together, he
resumed:--
"I am of the conviction, that without Sebastopol the emancipation of
the peasants would not have been brought about, and in the way it has
been; and who knows when and how it could have been accomplished in any
other way? Saul goes forth to-day, as of old, to look for an ass, and
finds a kingdom,--the kingdom of a regal, all-powerful Idea. The
Crimean war was undertaken for the purpose of humiliating Russia, and
it brought Russia to the measure of establishing a free peasantry, and
renewing herself in her inner life. These are the great facts of
history, and they are not our doing."
"That is new to me, surprisingly new," interposed the Prince, while
Clodwig continued:--
"The Russian ambassador informed me that during the Crimean war the
rumor was spread--no one knew its origin, and yet it was in all
mouths--that every one who had fought at Sebastopol, or who had
volunteered for the war to deliver the Emperor from the Allies, should
have land given him as a free present at its conclusion. This was a
fixed notion in all brains, and where did it come from? The idea of the
emancipation of the serfs, which had been mooted for a long time in
books and journals and among the higher classes of the community, now
took deep hold of the imagination, and assumed a definite form in the
consciousness of the people, becoming a fact plain as day, that
required only the imperial decree to set its seal upon it."
Clodwig stopped, as if wearied, but he summoned up his strength afresh
and cried:
"This is the old grand saying: 'the swords shall be turned into
ploughshares.'"
The entire company looked at each other with surprise, not
understanding why and how Clodwig had fallen into such a strain; Eric
alone gazed at Clodwig with a beaming countenance. As a hand was placed
upon his shoulder, he looked round, startled. Roland, standing behind
him, said,--
"That is exactly what you once said to me."
"Sit down, and be quiet," said Eric. Roland went to his seat, but he
waited until he caught Eric's eye, and then drank to him.
Bella looked around, as if wanting help to start some subject more
befitting table-talk: she looked at Eric, and nodded to him, as if
beseeching him to divert the conversation from these detestable
matters.
Just then the servants poured out some Johannisberg in delicate pretty
glasses, and Eric said, holding the glass up before him,--
"Herr Count, such wine as this the old nations never drank out of those
stone jars which we have dug up from the ground."
Bella nodded to him cheeringly, but as he said nothing further, she
asked,--
"Have we any precise information about the ancient method of
cultivating the vine?"
"Very little," replied Eric. "The ancients probably had no notion of
this bouquet, this spirit of the wine, for they drank it only
unfermented."
"I am very far," interposed Sonnenkamp, "from laying any claim to
classical lore, but it is very easily seen, that without the cutting of
the vines there can be no maturing and full concentration of the sap in
the clusters; and without the cask there can be no mellow and perfectly
ripe wine."
"Without the cask? Why the cask?" asked the Russian. "Does the wood of
the cask serve to clarify the wine?"
"I think not," answered Sonnenkamp, "but the wooden cask allows the air
to penetrate, allows the wine to become ripe in the vaults, allows it
to work itself pure,--in a word, to come to perfection. In vessels of
clay the wine is suffocated, or, at best, experiences no change."
With great address, Bella added,--"That delights me; now I see that a
progressive culture contributes to higher enjoyment even of the
products of nature."
Sonnenkamp was highly pleased; he was here able to add something
interesting, and he appeared in a very favorable light. Then the
conversation was carried on between different individuals.
There was general cheerfulness and hilarity, and every painful
impression seemed to have passed away: their faces glowed, and their
eyes shone brightly, as the company arose from the table.
CHAPTER VIII.
HELP YOURSELF.
The gentlemen sat by themselves in the garden, taking coffee after the
ladies had withdrawn.
The Prince, who wanted to show manifest friendliness towards
Sonnenkamp, spoke of his intention to travel in America, and Clodwig
encouraged it, regretting that he had not done so in his youth.
"I think that he who has not been in America does not know what man is
when he gives himself the reins: life there awakens entirely new
energies in the soul, and in the midst of the struggle for worldly
possessions, each one becomes a sort of Robinson Crusoe, who must
develop in himself new resources. I should say that America has some
points of comparison with Greece: in Greece the body was exhibited
naked, and in America the soul. This is by no means the most attractive
sight, but a renewal of humanity may yet be the result."
The Musician, who was about to make a professional journey to America,
remarked,--
"I don't see how they live in a land whose soil grows no wine, and in
whose air sings no lark."
"Allow me one question, Herr Count," Eric now said. "It is striking
that they have been able to invent no new names in America, but have
taken from the aboriginal inhabitants, and from the immigrants out of
the old world, their names for rivers, mountains, towns, and men; and I
would here like to ask,--has the new world succeeded in adding a new
ethical principle to those already established?"
"Certainly," interposed Sonnenkamp, "the best that there is going."
"The best! What is it?"
"The two significant words,--'Help yourself.'"
Shaking his head, Clodwig said,--
"Strictly speaking, 'Help yourself' is not a human, but an animal
principle; for every beast helps himself with all his powers. This
maxim was only justifiable as a protest against a polished and hollow
conventionalism, or against that utter abandonment of individual effort
in demanding every thing from the State. 'Help yourself' is a good
motto for an immigrant, but as soon as he becomes a settler, he stands
in relations of rights and duties as regards others. In the far west of
America, 'Help yourself' does not apply, for there the neighbors help
each other a great deal. 'Help yourself' is of avail, at farthest, for
individuals by themselves, and not for those assembled in a community:
the serfs could not help themselves, and the slaves have not been able
to help themselves. The moral law of solidarity is,--'Help thy
neighbor, as thy neighbor is to help thee; and when thou helpest
thyself, thou helpest also others.'"
Here they came upon the subject so happily turned aside at table, but
as no one seemed disposed to resume it, Clodwig continued,--
"It would seem that every people must become adopted as a citizen in
the great realm of history, through some idea. I believe that the grand
calling of America is, to annihilate slavery from the face of the
earth. But as I said before, this is the carrying out of an idea that
has been for a long time maturing. I should like to ask if America has
any new moral principle?"
"Perhaps the sewing-machine is a now moral principle," said Pranken, in
his free, joking manner.
They laughed.
"But there _is_ a moral principle involved in 'Help yourself,'"
interposed Eric. "Among us Europeans, a man becomes something through
inheritance, or through royal favor, while the American looks for
nothing from others, and seeks to become what he can be through his own
efforts, and not through any foreign help. And in respect to that
belief which regards man as a pack of merchandise, to be forwarded by
some agent to its heavenly destination, this maxim, 'Help yourself,' is
very significant. Thou, man, art no coffer, well corded with legal
prescriptions, and sealed by the spiritual officers of customs as
having paid the duty and passed inspection, but thou art a living
passenger on this earth, and must look out for thyself. Help yourself!
Nobody forwards thee to thy destination; and we Germans have a proverb
that comes near it in meaning: 'Each one must carry his own hide to
market.'"
"May I ask a question?" said Roland, entering into the conversation.
All were surprised, especially Eric and Sonnenkamp.
"Ask it if you wish," Eric said encouragingly.
"When I heard the Herr Count speaking of the heritage of civilization,
I felt as if I must ask: how do we know that we are civilized?"
The youth spoke with timidity, and Eric encouraged him.
"Explain more fully what you mean by that."
"Perhaps the Turks or the Chinese consider _us_ barbarous."
"You would have, then," Eric said, to help him on, "some unmistakable
token whereby a people, an age, a religion, a man, can perceive whether
they are in the great current of universal, historical civilization?"
"Yes, that is what I mean."
"Well, then, consider wherein does a cultivated man differ from an
uncultivated?"
"He differs from him in having good thoughts and clear views."
"Where does he get these?"
"Out of himself."
"And how does he learn to sharpen them, and to round them off?"
"By comparing them."
"With what?"
"With the thoughts of great men."
"And does he perceive truth in agreement with others, or in opposition
to them?"
"In agreement with them."
"And where do those live with whom he is in agreement?"
"All around him."
"Have not others lived before him?"
"Certainly."
"And can we compare our thoughts and views with those men who have
lived before us, or learn directly from the past?"
"Certainly; that is what writings are for."
"Good! And if now a man, or a people, has a system or a culture which
has no connection with the past, with no man and no people who have
gone before, what is he?"
"No inheritor."
"I did not expect that answer, but I accept it; good! Then is a people,
that invents no culture, in connection with humanity, or in a condition
of isolation?"
"Of isolation."
"This is the way it stands, then. We know that we are in the centre, or
rather in the advancing front, of a progressive civilization, because
we have received an inheritance from the Past, from Persians, Jews,
Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans, and we transmit it. The Turks and
Chinese, who are not able to do this, stand by themselves and so
decline. It is not pride which causes us Germans to consider ourselves
in the front rank of civilization, for there is no nation that takes up
more fully into itself, and carries on farther, the work of humanity
than the German, or, we will say, the Germanic, for your father-land is
also included."
"Bravo! bravo!" cried Clodwig, as they all rose. Clodwig went to
Sonnenkamp and said,--
"Never was a recommendation better justified than mine of the Captain
to you; and you are in the right, Herr Sonnenkamp. I have learned
something,--'Help yourself' _is_ a grand new principle: it is not a
moral principle, but a preceptive formula. See how our friend teaches
your son pre-eminently to help himself: this is the new Socratic
method."
Eric and Roland had become now the central objects of the company; and
the Prince, coming up to Eric and shaking hands with him, said,--
"You are really a teacher!"
A messenger came from the ladies to say that they would repair to the
saloon, and the gentlemen went there in cheerful mood. The jovial
Austrian officer, who had elevated to the nobility the daughter of a
merchant in the neighboring commercial city, sang some comic songs;
Pranken was prevailed upon to exhibit some sleight-of-hand tricks which
he had learned from a juggler, and he did it in capital style; and
finally, the musician played some tunes upon Clodwig's old violin.
Sonnenkamp embraced the favorable opportunity of speaking to Clodwig,
as they were sitting together in a retired nook of the large saloon; he
began with speaking of the interest which Roland was so fortunate as to
excite in Clodwig, and he very readily acknowledged how great his
interest was. Sonnenkamp felt his way along very cautiously, and there
was an affecting, paternal tone in the manner in which he said that he
had nothing more to desire in life for himself, and that his only wish
was to have Roland established securely in an honorable position.
Clodwig said he had no doubt that he had gained, and would continue to
gain still further, by intercourse with Eric and by his instruction, a
knowledge of life, and an introduction into it which would make him
strong in himself, and insure at some time admittance into the society
of the nobility.
Sonnenkamp fastened upon this expression, "the society of the
nobility;" he had not studied in vain the natural history of bribery,
and Clodwig must be won over by being made one of the nominating
committee, and be bribed by the payment of shares in the new
fancy-stock; but Clodwig conducted himself as if he had no idea what
Sonnenkamp was aiming at. Sonnenkamp was so confused by this, that
instead of requesting directly Clodwig's aid in accomplishing his
purpose, he asked his advice; Clodwig discouraged him very decidedly,
even saying plainly that it was not expedient to unite one's self with
a dying institution, in which one would not feel at home. Sonnenkamp
expressed gratefully his sense of obligation. Clodwig seized a
favorable opportunity to mingle among the guests, and Sonnenkamp could
not again get possession of him.
They drove home in the bright daylight, the host and hostess
accompanying them a part of the way. Sonnenkamp let Roland take a seat
with his mother and Fraeulein Perini, for he did not want to encounter
the displeasure of his wife, who had stared frequently at Bella's
splendid pearl necklace; he took Eric and the Major with him into the
carriage.
"This, then, is German society! In our worthy host there is a good deal
of the professor," said Sonnenkamp. No one made any reply.
He then said in English to Eric, that he deserved great praise for his
tact, that in the presence of Roland, who was still so young, he put so
reserved a face on his friendship for Clodwig and his beautiful wife.
And he said, placing his hand on Eric's shoulder,--
"Young man, I could envy you; I know very well that you will deny all,
but I congratulate you. The old gentleman is right; 'Help yourself' is
no moral principle."
Eric could not positively assert the groundlessness of this
insinuation, and he felt himself severely punished, by this inward
condemnation, for having been guilty even in the slightest passing
thought; and it was consolatory to him to be able to say: I can apply
it to myself, I have tested the worth of 'Help yourself.'
Sonnenkamp also had his reflections upon the words, 'Help yourself,'
and he was vexed at them. He was now seeking to attain something, and
self-help could avail nothing in his efforts, but he must accept the
help of others. He wished now to acquire an elevated position, and this
is a very different thing from the acquisition of money, land,
property, and goods; honor proceeds only from persons united by a
social bond, and therefore others must help; and the noblest and most
influential one, whose aid was essential, was reserved, and disinclined
to render him assistance. It did not seem as if Clodwig could be won
over to take his part.
CHAPTER IX.
THE WREATH.
Repeated distractions broke in at short intervals on the course of
study; but Frau Ceres was made happy by an opportunity to wear all her
ornaments, and Fraeulein Perini was happy in opening the trunk which
arrived from Paris; there could not be more than two such dresses in
the world, of which the Empress had one, and Frau Ceres the other.
The old and highly respected family of the Wine-count had until now
held back with unmistakable reserve from any intimate acquaintance with
the family at Villa Eden, but now, after the dinner-party at
Wolfsgarten, Sonnenkamp received an invitation to the wedding festival
of their daughter and the son of the Court Marshal.
Eric had great difficulty in restraining his pupil from talking
constantly about this great fete, for Roland had heard of the fireworks
which were to be sent up from the Rhine and the wooded hills around,
and every morning he said, "I do hope the weather will continue
pleasant; it will be such a pity if it doesn't." He was often away with
Pranken for several hours at a time, and returned very much excited,
evidently keeping some secret from Eric, who did not ask any questions.
On the day of the fete, the General with whom the family had become
acquainted in the capital arrived.
It was mid-day when they started, in three carriages, for the house of
the Wine-count. Frau Ceres occupied one carriage with the General. She
seemed to swim in a stream of drapery, so full and spreading were the
folds of her dress. In the second and open carriage rode Sonnenkamp
with Fraeulein Perini and Pranken, in full uniform and wearing two
orders. He accompanied them in order to make his appearance as a member
of Sonnenkamp's family. Sonnenkamp said nothing, but his face showed
how grateful he was to the young man, who had not only brought him the
General as a guest, but was taking upon himself his introduction to the
assemblage. In the third carriage sat Roland with Eric, who did very
wrong, Roland thought, not to wear his uniform also.
A long line of carriages waited before the door of the Wine-count's
villa, which stood broad and stately, on the high road, with
well-arranged, shady grounds on each side. The General gave Frau Ceres
his arm, and they were shown, by servants in rich livery, to the
garden, through paths bordered with carefully-tended, fragrant flowers.
At the foot of the garden steps the Wine-count met them, and begged the
General to resign Frau Ceres to his care. Various groups were walking
about the garden, or sitting on the pleasant grass-plots.
The Wine-count's wife, a tall, stout woman, had not heard in vain that
she looked like the Empress Maria Theresa. She was dressed to-day quite
in her imperial style, and wore a splendid diadem of brilliants.
Sonnenkamp was presented to the bridal pair. The bridegroom looked very
weary, but the bride, with her wreath of roses, very animated; much
regret was expressed that Manna was not with the family at the fete.
The Court Marshal expressed his pleasure at meeting Herr Sonnenkamp
again, and at making the acquaintance of his wife and of his handsome
son, of whom he had heard so much. A glow was thrown over the whole
evening, when he said rather loudly, with evident intention, that
Sonnenkamp had been most honorably mentioned at the Prince's table, on
the preceding day. Frau Ceres, still wearing her white cape over her
richly ornamented dress, was seated next the Court marshal.
The Wine-chevalier, wearing several orders, was moving about among the
company. He was a man of good manners, having been in constant
intercourse with all the aristocracy of Europe. In the time of
Napoleon, when he was a jovial travelling agent for his father's firm,
he had been employed by the wary Metternich on several missions, which
he had carried through with much skill. There was scarcely a French
General whom he had not known, and he had even conversed twice with
Napoleon himself.
The Wine-count had three sons and three daughters; the oldest daughter
was already married to an officer of noble family. Of the three sons,
one had disappeared in America, after having squandered large sums of
money for his father; the second was a member of a theatre orchestra in
a capital of middle Germany, and it was said he had written to his
father that, for his part, he would not be ennobled. The third and
oldest son was the Wine-chevalier, who had striven very eagerly for the
honor of nobility, and was very happy in his success.
The Wine-count was most cordial in his manner; there was a remarkable
elasticity in the movements of the slender, white-haired old man. He
went from guest to guest, with an appropriate friendly word for each,
and on all sides received double congratulations, for on this very day
the Prince had ennobled him. He expressed his thanks very modestly, for
he could assure himself that he might have attained this honor two
years before, but at that time there was a certain patriotic vertigo
abroad which had seized even a wine-grower. He answered all the
congratulations by saying that the Prince's great kindness made him
extremely happy.
Sonnenkamp kept smiling to himself, looking forward to the time when he
would thus be courted also, and he prepared to receive the homage with
modest thankfulness.
Frau Ceres sat in much discomfort next the Court Marshal, who left her
to her own thoughts when he found that no conversation could be kept
up. At last a pleasure came to her when the Cabinet minister's lady
arrived, and expressed great pleasure at meeting her, as the Court
Marshal gave his seat to her.
Still greater was Frau Ceres' happiness when Frau Bella also came up;
even in this circle, where there were many of her equals, she seemed to
take a leading position. She was very gracious to Frau Ceres, and
begged her to take her arm to go into the garden-saloon, where the rich
outfit of the bride was exhibited; there was a universal expression of
admiration, and some glances of envy from those who returned from its
examination.
Frau Ceres managed her long train very awkwardly, while Bella held hers
up gracefully, and moved as if she were sailing through light clouds.
Sonnenkamp was greeted by the Russian Prince in a most friendly manner,
and delighted at his shaking hands with him; but his pleasure was soon
strewn with ashes, as the Prince said,--
"I forgot that you were to tell me some particulars of the treatment of
the slaves; I'm afraid I shall not find any of them left, when I make
up my mind to visit America."
He soon turned away, as the General was introduced to him. Sonnenkamp
began to feel somewhat strange and neglected in the circle, but his
countenance brightened as he saw Bella and Frau Ceres walking together
so confidentially.
"You have hardly spoken to the Countess," he said to Eric.
"Ah, I'm thinking of something quite different," answered Eric. "I
should like to hear our new Baron tell his servants: John, Peter,
Michael, from this day you must address me as Gracious Herr, or Herr
Baron. He must appear ridiculous to himself."
"Perhaps Doctor is a finer title," replied Sonnenkamp sharply; "or is
that born with a person?"
Eric's remark irritated him, and he would have been glad to send him
out of the company. But he suddenly became more amiable, as Bella
approached and said to him,
"Do you know, Herr Sonnenkamp, what we are all really here for, and
what this whole fete means? It is a christening feast, and our gracious
Prince has played off a good joke. The Wine-dealer has striven for
nobility so long, at last offering up his daughter as a sacrificial
lamb, that the Prince could not help granting it to him at last. And
isn't it good that he has given him the name Herr von Endlich? (At
Last.)"
Then in a very amusing way she went on to describe how fine it would be
if so old a candidate for baptism suddenly cried, I don't want that
name, I want another.
Turning to Eric, she sketched the whole assemblage for him with apt,
though somewhat malicious strokes. She ridiculed with most sarcasm a
knot of young girls, who evidently could not forget the heavy weight of
hair upon their heads, for the hair-dressers from the Baths and the
Fortress had been hurrying, since early morning, from house to house,
to deck out the girls' heads in proper company style. Bella mimicked
the girls as they said to each other, "Please tell me if my chignon is
still on."
With much merriment she pointed out a tall, lank Englishman, coming in
sight with his stout wife and three slim daughters, who wore long curls
and extraordinarily brilliant dresses. He lived in winter at the
capital, in the summer at a country-seat, passing the time in angling,
while his daughters were constantly drawing. He was considered very
rich, and his wealth had a singular source; many years before, a
brother of his wife had been sent to Botany Bay, and, being an
experienced trader, had there succeeded in establishing a large export
business, and laid the foundation of the family wealth.
Bella was full of charming humor, and Eric felt as if he had done her
injustice. He had listened to the sharp judgment, the mental
dissection, of Bella from the physician, when he ought to have
contested it decidedly. He looked at her as if asking pardon for
something, and she, well satisfied, showed a fresh cheerfulness, which
was not wanting in magic power. She treated Eric with marked attention
before the whole company.
Count Clodwig joined the group, and remarked that he was always
surprised anew to see how many odd characters settled here on the banks
of the Rhine. The Major stood apart and looked at Herr Sonnenkamp, as
if he would say: I beg you, don't do this too; stay with us. It would
be pleasanter to me than to give her the prettiest bon-bons which I
shall carry home, to be able to say to Fraeulein Milch, What they say
about Herr Sonnenkamp isn't true! For again had Fraeulein Milch
penetrated the well-guarded mystery.
Eric pitied the Major, who looked unusually dull, and he succeeded in
getting at the cause of his low spirits, for the Major said,
"It's just as if a Christian were to turn Turk! Ah, you may laugh, but
Fraeulein Milch is right. All that beautiful money, which has been
earned with so much trouble, is now to be thrown away on the nobles,
and we commoners may stand aside, and never have any more notice taken
of us."
Eric silently pressed the Major's hand, and the latter asked:--
"But where's Roland?"
Indeed, where was Roland? He had vanished soon after their arrival, and
was nowhere to be seen. The evening came on gradually, and wonderfully
beautiful music from wind instruments was heard in the thick shrubbery;
for a while, the guests in the garden were silent, and then it seemed
as if the music made them only the more talkative. Eric looked for
Roland, but no one could tell him anything of him.
The music ceased, and darkness gathered. On the balcony of the house
appeared a trumpeter, in a costume of the middle ages, and sounded a
call; the company repaired to the house, up the steps to the great hall
and the adjoining rooms. Here a few seats were placed; in the
foreground, two great arm-chairs, dressed with flowers, for the bride
and bridegroom; behind them, a line of chairs for the oldest and most
distinguished guests.
Frau Ceres was conducted to a seat near Bella; Fraeulein Perini had
managed very adroitly to get near her and pull gently at her cloak.
Frau Ceres understood, and all eyes, which had been resting on the
bridal pair, now turned to her. Such ornaments, imitating a wreath of
wheat-ears of which each grain was a great diamond, such a dress,
sown thick with pearls and diamonds, were never before seen; a
long-continued murmur of applause ran through the assembly.
Frau Ceres stood by her chair, as if rooted to the spot, till Bella
begged her to sit down; she looked smilingly at the splendid jewels: it
was all very well for the American woman to put those on, but she
couldn't put on such a neck and arms as her own.
Now it appeared that one of the walls of the room was only a curtain,
which was presently drawn up. Vine-dressers were discovered, who sang
and spoke praises of the family, and finally presented a myrtle crown.
The curtain fell, amidst the expressions of delight of the whole
company, and as they were about to rise, a voice behind the curtain
cried:--
"Remain seated!"
The curtain rose again, and, behind a thin gauze, Apollo was seen among
shepherds and vine-dressers, and Apollo was Roland; the curtain had to
be twice raised again, for all were enraptured with the tableau, and
especially with Roland's god-like appearance. Bella nodded exultantly
to Eric, who was standing apart; but he felt as if benumbed, as he
asked himself what effect all this would have on Roland, and how Roland
could have concealed it from him. It was not long before Roland joined
the company in his ordinary dress; he was admired and praised on all
sides, and nearly taken off his feet.
Frau Ceres was congratulated almost more than Roland, on her happiness
in having a son of such divine beauty; repeated regrets were expressed
that her daughter was not at the fete. Frau Ceres received all this
most amiably, saying constantly: "I thank you most sincerely, you are
very kind." Fraeulein Perini had taught her her lesson.
New rooms were opened, where tables were spread, and the guests
seated themselves.
Roland went to Eric.
"Are you the only one to say nothing to me?" he asked.
Eric was silent.
"Ah," Roland continued, "it has cost me much trouble to conceal
anything from you, and still more to be attentive for these last few
days, but I wanted to surprise you."
Eric recovered himself, and decided that it would be best not to lay
much stress on the matter, so that it might be less likely to have any
hurtful effect; he only warned Roland to be careful not to take too
much wine. The boy was so full of happiness that he preferred to sit
near Eric, to show him that he was moderate, rather than to take a seat
which was reserved for him at the table of the bride.
Pranken, who, with the portrait painter's aid, had arranged the
tableau, was in a state of singular excitement this evening, for
the idea kept ringing in his head that he might have married the
Wine-count's beautiful daughter; here was new-varnished nobility, to be
sure, but everything was made sure of; here would be now an attractive
widow, or, better still, an attractive unhappy wife. He drove the
thoughts away, however, saying to himself that he loved Manna.
As a former comrade of the bridegroom, and as friend of the family,
Pranken proposed the toast to the bridal pair; he spoke well, and in a
humorous tone, as was best, and the company were well pleased.
The discharge of a cannon gave notice that the fireworks were
beginning, and the guests betook themselves to the veranda and the
garden.
CHAPTER X.
FIREWORKS AND THEN DARKNESS.
Bella suddenly stood by Eric's side, without his noticing her approach.
"You are unusually grave to-day," she said in a low voice.
"I am not used to the confusion of such a fete."
"I always feel as if you would have something to say to me," she
murmured lower.
Eric was silent, and Bella continued:--
"Does it seem to you as it does to me, when you see your nearest friend
in a great assembly, as if you met in a strange land, or as if
struggling in a river, in which you are drowning?"
"Ah! Bravo!" many voices cried suddenly. A flight of rockets was sent
off, while music was heard, and a trumpet across the river took up the
strain, and echoed it. Far away they saw the people from the towns and
villages about, standing on the river-banks, their faces lighted by the
glare.
"Ah," exclaimed Bella, as all was dark again, "we are all nothing but
slaves! If we could live like that, that would be life indeed! to burn
like that rocket in the free air, then come, darkness and death; ye are
welcome!"
Eric trembled; he did not know how it happened, but he was holding
Bella's hand fast in his.
Again bright fires rose from river and hills. It seemed as if all those
people who were looking on from the distant shore must have seen Eric's
hand in Bella's. Eric drew back with a start. The Prince came up, and
Bella immediately took his arm. Eric was left alone, and as he saw
Bella walking up and down the road before the house, leaning on the
Prince's arm, he tried to recollect whether he had not said to her, I
love you. It seemed to him that he had spoken aloud, and yet it could
not be. Fire-wheels, the monogram of the bridal-pair, Roman-candles,
were exhibited, and at last from a boat on the Rhine rose a great
golden wine-flask, which burst in the air, and scattered a shower of
sparkling drops of light. Music resounded, and from the shore a shout
was heard, as if all the waves had found a voice.
Eric's brain reeled; he knew not where he was, nor who he was. Suddenly
he felt an arm laid on his own: it was Clodwig. Eric would have liked
to kneel before him, but he felt unworthy to utter a word, and he could
only make an inward vow: I will send a bullet through my heart, rather
than allow it ever again to thrill with this excitement.
Clodwig spoke of Roland, saying that he could not think it right or
wise that he should be thrust into a sphere strange to him. Eric
answered at random; Clodwig believed that he must know of the project,
while Eric thought he was alluding to the military profession; and he
seemed so distracted and inwardly excited, that Clodwig admonished his
young friend to exert himself less strenuously, and not to torment
himself needlessly.
Eric avoided saying good-night to Bella.
It was late when they drove back, in the same manner as they had come,
except that the Cabinetsrath and his wife accompanied them, to spend
the night at Villa Eden.
The Minister rode with Sonnenkamp, and the conversation naturally fell
on the fete, and on the dissolution of the old and respected firm of
wine dealers, since the Wine-count was now about to sell at auction his
whole stock. The Minister's lady said that Bella had told her that she
intended to write Eric's mother and aunt for a visit; Pranken pretended
to know of this plan, but was inwardly very much surprised. Now that
they were alone and need not be reserved with each other, the
Minister's lady said emphatically, that no one could bring about the
conferring of the new dignity on Herr Sonnenkamp more easily and simply
than the Professor's widow. It was not exactly decided upon, but it was
hinted to Herr Sonnenkamp, that he might establish the first claim of
hospitality by inviting the ladies to Villa Eden.
Sonnenkamp smiled to himself, for he had a further plan of making Frau
Dournay useful: the General had said several times that she was a
trusted friend of his sister, the Superior of the island convent; here
were the wires to be pulled.
In the third carriage Eric rode again with Roland; they sat silent for
a long time, as the carriage rolled slowly on. At last a voice called
out:--
"Good evening, Herr Captain!"
Eric ordered the driver to stop; it was Claus's son, the cooper, who
was walking along the wood. He brought Eric a greeting from Master
Knopf at Mattenheim, and said that he had been there with a message
from his father, asking Knopf to appear before the jury the next day,
as a witness in his defence. Roland rubbed his eyes, and looked about
him as if he were in a strange world. He asked the cooper to get into
the carriage with them. The cooper thanked him, but declined, and went
on to say how wonderful it had been, as he came over the hills from
Mattenheim, to see, just as he left the woods, the strange fires
mounting to heaven from the Rhine far below, and he had stood just
where the rocks echoed the cannon. He held out his hand to Eric, but
not to Roland.
As the two drove on again, Roland said:
"Then Claus has heard the cannon in his prison, and perhaps he saw the
fireworks too. Ah, he has not a single dog to speak to near him. I've
often been sorry that he had to wander about so constantly through the
fields by day and night, but now he must long for that old weariness.
And while he sits there in prison, everything is growing outside, and
the thieves of hares and foxes know, that no one knows their burrows so
well as he: and I do believe he is innocent. Ah, why must there be
poor, unhappy men; why can't the whole world be happy?" For the first
time, Eric saw that he must advise Roland not to say anything to his
father of these thoughts, about the huntsman, and about the poor and
unfortunate.
Eric felt quite satisfied that all the praise Roland had received for
his appearance as Apollo had done no harm.
CHAPTER XI.
A REPRESSED HEART.
"What are we, when judged by our most secret thoughts?"
So had Eric written in answer to a dainty note which Bella had written
to him. She had requested him to send the coat in which she had painted
him, as something peculiar in its cut had yet to be introduced, in
order to give the finishing touch to the portrait. The way in which she
had signed her name startled Eric; there was her name, Bella, but
instead of her surname, an interrogation point between two brackets.
She had scratched this out, as if thinking better of it, but it was
still to be perceived.
She put the coat upon the lay-figure in her studio; it affected her
strangely, and she stood there now, with her hand placed upon the
shoulder of the figure.
"What are we, judged by our most secret thoughts?" had Eric written,
and it seemed now as if the words came from the mouth of the model
before her.
Bella shuddered, and was seized with a deadly trembling, for as she
stood there with her gaze fastened upon the floor, and her hand laid
upon the garment of the man not her husband, it seemed to her as if she
should sink to the earth. At this instant, her whole life unfolded
itself to her view.
The days of childhood--there was no definite image of these. The
teachers praised her quick comprehension; a French bonne was dismissed,
and a strict English governess received into the family; Bella learned
languages easily, and good manners seemed natural to her. Her smart
repartees, when she was very young, were repeated admiringly, and this
flattered her vanity, and extinguished all childish ingenuousness.
Ladies and gentlemen visiting the house, or meeting her casually in
different places, praised her beauty in her hearing. She was confirmed,
but the holy ceremony appeared to her only as the sign of her
deliverance from the nursery, when she must lay aside her short dresses
and put on long ones; and when going up to the altar, the thought which
predominated in her was, Thou art the fairest one. As the bishop had
taken tea the evening before with her parents, he was not to her a
supernatural being as to the rest, for he had spoken familiarly with
her, and she appeared to herself to be, in the church, the central
point of all observation.