"Fritzchen, have mercy!"
"I say drink! _Donnerwetter_!"
And again the superb glasses made reproachful music as they met at
being turned to such abominable uses.
Leo uncorked the second bottle, and offered the pastor a cigar.
"I beg pardon, Fritzchen, but are these also--so to say--penitence
cigars?"
"What a pity!" thought Leo. "I didn't think of that;" and he shook his
head, smiling.
The pastor kindled the excellent weed forthwith, and revelled in the
fragrant clouds.
"There you sit, stretching your legs in your splendour," said he, "and
split with laughter at the old fat fellow you love to make a fool of.
But do you imagine that it makes what you have done one hair's breadth
better?"
"Humph!" said Leo, curling his moustache.
"You may deluge it with rose-water, but it still stinks."
"Humph!" came a second time from Leo.
"That day in the church I gave you a scorcher, to the best of my
ability. And now you resent it. That's not pretty of you, Fritzchen."
"What I resent," replied Leo, "is that, instead of coming to me and
having it out fair and straight, you preferred to let a woman lead you
by the nose in the matter, and tried, according to her receipt, to
scourge me into creeping to the foot of the cross, howling and whining
my penitence. That's not a manly course to take, and I believe that the
old God of our fathers Himself wouldn't be pleased at it."
"Do you mean by this woman your sister?"
"Yes, I mean my sister."
"Very well. You must know, Fritzchen, that your sister came to me a
couple of years or so before that, and said---- It doesn't matter what
she said, except that I tell you it is no subject for joking, and you
should lay it to heart that the unhappy story threatened to prove fatal
to your sister's peace."
"What do you know about my sister's peace?"
"Simply this. She knew her bit, and I knew mine. So there was no
beating about the bush between us. And when I saw that the story preyed
on her mind, I administered consolation, as was my duty, and as I could
not procure her exactly the solatium that she required...."
"You would say the _man_ she requires?"
"Quite right. That is what I do mean. Failing that, I directed her to
Heaven. Don't laugh in such a godless fashion, Fritzchen. It is my
vocation. And what is Heaven there for, unless it is to help us on our
way through this vale of tears?"
"But it is not there to turn our brains."
The old man frowned in deep thought, and muttered, "For that purpose it
is not there I agree."
There was a silence. Leo, who was no longer in the mood for jesting,
called Christian, and ordered a wine that was drinkable.
"God reward you, Fritzchen," said the pastor. "Now, perhaps, a few
sensible ideas will dawn in my addled brain."
Christian, eager to repair his master's sins against the clergy,
brought up a fiery "Ranenthaler" brand, that hadn't seen the sun for
many a long year.
Brenckenberg slowly damped his lips. His little swollen eyes became
mere slits, while with a shudder of delight he emptied the glass. Then
once more he was gloomy and silent.
"Aren't you satisfied yet?" Leo asked.
"It's a sin and a shame," he answered, "that one should enjoy one's
self while talking of such terrible things. But it is the old Adam in
us, Fritzchen--the old Adam."
"You are in a hurry to repent," said Leo. "Let your lips dry first,
before you curse with them."
The old man pressed his fists to his forehead.
"The fact of the matter is, Fritzchen, I am no priest after God's
heart," he said, as the wine began to bedew his inside. "Quite the
contrary, my body is a perfect receptacle for the seven deadly sins.
Chambering and wantoning, to use Biblical language, I have outgrown, of
course, but gorging and carousing, Fritzchen, and naughty words ..."
"_A propos_, perhaps you would like a salmon sandwich with your wine,"
broke in Leo.
"Later ... Fritzchen ... later.... Our dear Lord and Saviour will have
to be patient with me for these things till the end of my days. It's a
waste of labour to struggle against nature. When I watch the elders as
they slink into the Conference, lisping and mincing with a 'dear
brother in Christ' here, and an 'in God's infinite mercy' there; how
they cast up their eyes and fold their hands on their stomachs for
sheer self-righteousness and humility ... Fritzchen, it turns my
bile.... And yet I envy them. To give the lean their due, they live at
least according to Scripture. The fat, on the contrary, are mostly
sinners, and don't deserve the grace of God.--Amen."
"What do you want to prove by that argument?"
"That our flesh is the stumbling-block; that from time immemorial the
flesh has seduced us into sinful acts, and that it is our flesh that
must be crucified."
"If the thin are the saints, and the fat the sinners," interposed Leo,
laughing, "then a course of baths at Schweringen must be the best moral
cleanser."
"Don't be flippant," remonstrated the pastor. "I am one of the fat. I
am a sinner. Many a time I feel my flesh begin to ferment for pure
sinfulness. On warm summer evenings, or in winter, by the fire with a
glass of grog, thousands of little devils prick you under the skin like
pins, and from every button-hole a desire or an indulgence winks at
you. Yes, yes, Fritzchen, I know what bulk is. There is no mist before
my eyes. We have too good a time of it, and then we go the pace and
break our legs."
Leo smilingly asked to have the parable expounded.
"What do I mean by it? I mean this.... Don't presume to come to me with
such excuses as so-called passion, fate, destiny, and all that
nonsense. You have had too good a time, and now the devil has got hold
of you by the lappet. I am sorry, Fritzchen, but it can't be helped."
"What do you mean by the devil? Who is the devil?"
"The devil, Fritzchen, goeth about like a roaring lion----"
"Yes, yes; you taught me that in my infancy."
"Very well. And you want to know more? Would you like to see ... see
with your own eyes what the devil is like?"
"I should esteem it an honour and pleasure."
"You shall have your wish."
He seized the under pocket of his long voluminous coat, and produced,
with puffs and groans, first an apple, then another apple, then three
ears of corn, then an end of wax-candle.... "Altar candle," he
explained; "a charm against small-pox. Confiscated it yesterday from a
lout who stole it from the vestry." Then a reserve pocket-handkerchief,
sticky with bread-crumbs, then a taper, and last of all a leather case,
about the size of a man's fist, of three-cornered shape. The case he
left on the table, while he slowly stuffed the other miscellaneous
articles back into his pocket.
"He is in there."
"The devil?"
"Yes, undoubtedly."
"Dear me!"
"Take care. I am going to open it."
The cover snapped back. Something that resembled a cigar-holder, and
the greater part of which was wrapped in red wool, came to light.
"Here he is," said the pastor.
"Exactly as I have always supposed him to be," scoffed Leo.
"Shouldn't have credited you with so much acumen," replied the old man
with imperturbable calmness, as he untied the strings which fastened
the covering, "for of the many thousand shapes he likes to appear in,
this is his favourite."
The woollen wrapper fell off, and what actually revealed itself was a
cleanly carved meerschaum point in the form of a woman's leg. Above the
amber shoe, which served as the mouthpiece, the part which extended to
the knee had been smoked as black as ebony, but the rest, through the
protection of the wrapper, had preserved its natural yellowish, white
tint.
Leo laughed heartily, but the old man maintained his gravity.
"This is the method that I have discovered of hanging the devil up in
the chimney," he said; "and I assure you it affords me holy joy when I
do it."
He stuck the half-smoked cigar in the holder, and smoked with all the
strength of his lungs.
"There's one thing that I don't understand," said Leo, who now tried to
enter into the joke in earnest. "If you have got the devil so entirely
in your power, why haven't you made him black all over?"
The old man laid his finger on his nose with a worldly-wise air.
"You speak like an ignorant sinner. Think what a poor creature the
devil would be if he couldn't get some concessions from me and you!
Just as I am hard at it, robbing him of all his power, he understands
how to awaken my pity. This is the devil's peculiarity. He attacks us
through our soft places. This, you see, was so smooth and fair and
white. Well, I simply felt as if I couldn't. So, you see, I entered
into a compact with him, which was just to smoke a stocking on to him,
and to leave the rest as it was by wrapping it up in wool. And now do
you see, Fritzchen, that is our whole art. We can't render him
powerless, but we can put socks on him, and hide the rest." And as
carefully as he had taken off the wrappings, he began to adjust them
again on the part that was not discoloured.
"Good gracious!" ejaculated Leo. "This is symbolism with a vengeance.
It reminds me of the second part of 'Faust.'"
"Don't talk of 'Faust' to me, Fritzchen. Goethe lived like an old
heathen, and wrote like an old heathen. When he scanned his verse, he
played with his five fingers on the piano and wasn't a bit inspired.
Francke and Pusckin composed some fine and stirring verse; but they
didn't do it in that fashion. And it is to be hoped the time is long
passed when Schleiermacher and the whole lot of liberal divines were
allowed to quote Goethe in the pulpit, as if he were one of the fathers
of the Church. Besides, he was generally wrong. The eternal feminine
draws us upwards, he says somewhere. A very fine noble sentiment, but
there is another kind of feminine, equally eternal, that drags us down,
Fritzchen, till we don't know at last whether there can be another
slough for us to sink into. Many have the genius that helps them to get
out of it, but many a one sticks fast and the bog closes over him."
Leo felt his blood rise hotly to his cheeks, for the eyes opposite were
hurling at him their most ominous darts. He refilled the glasses. The
old man gulped down his wine hastily, and the bushy brows began to
twitch. It was a sign that he had reached the stage when his original
tirades were at their height. The late baron's "round table," at which
he had sat as jester, had always greeted this signal with roars of
laughter.
Leo expected to find out now his old friend's most private and true
opinion of his own position.
"Forget the priest for once," said he, "and speak to your Fritz as one
man and sinner speaks to another. What do you think about my guilt, and
what do you advise me to do?"
The pastor shot another shower of lightning darts from beneath his
shaggy brows. The billows of his chin champed up and down as if he
would crack the difficult nut between his ivory grinders.
"Look here, Fritzchen," he began, "on bright days, that is to say on
days when this old brain is bright, I imagine myself to be God, or I
put myself in His place. I try to understand what passes in His head
when He looks down out of heaven on us miserable scum. He made us what
we are. I say to myself, 'Why should He punish us for sins which are
His work also?' (If you write all this to my consistory, Fritzchen, in
spite of your patronage, I shall have to go begging for bread and
office, so keep it to yourself, please.) And just to demonstrate the
matter, I go into the fir wood near Wengern and find an ant-hill. I
station myself straddle-legged above it--an exalted attitude,
Fritzchen--and I imagine that I am God of this ant-heap. Why should it
not be so when besides the German Emperor there is a Prince of
Schleiz-Greiz-Lobenstein? There under me they crawl and work, quarrel
and bite each other dead. I look on and--grin. Underneath they are
certainly sinning, but I the Lord God look on and--grin. 'It is all
right,' I say to myself, 'because they sin according to method.
Otherwise my beautiful ant-heap would go to pieces.' And I say to
myself further, 'So the Lord God is amused at the sins of men, because
they are nothing more than the evidence of His laws. He wants sin as
well as virtue, otherwise He would not have created it.'"
Leo gave a sigh of relief. He had not hoped for such conciliatory views
from this hard old fanatic.
But the latter immediately proceeded to add a damping rider. "Don't
make merry too soon," said he; "we haven't come to the end yet. _Why_
this is so we cannot know, our poor understanding is too feeble.
But that good may come of sin, as good comes of virtue, that the
sinner as well as the just man shall be answerable to the same
laws. He has established His system of salvation. According to it
every man is apportioned a certain measure of sin; he may not
transgress the limits, or the whole structure would fall in
ruins. Therefore God has ordained for him the following circular route:
_Sin_--_repent_--penance--absolution--and afterwards with renewed zest
start afresh, as a pure man, sinning again because every one else does.
So all is done in order, and each is allowed the amount of sin that he
needs to bring his old Adam into harmony with the Christian
commandments. In short, sin means life, but sin without repentance is
death."
Leo sprang up and began to pace the room with long strides. "And
because of this bogey you are stoking the fires of hell for me," he
cried.
"The salvation ordinance is no bogey," replied the old man. "That
morning your sister came and said to me, 'He is back, lighthearted and
gay, while I am crushed to the earth under the weight of his sin. Is
that right?' I made answer, 'Certainly not. The fellow must be got hold
of somehow. Repentance must be.'"
"You lie!" said Leo, and banged his fist on the table till the glasses
danced. "It mustn't be. At least, not in my case.... The strong have
their own code of morals as well as the weak.... Yours is 'sin, repent,
sin again;' mine 'sin, don't repent, _do better_.'"
"As if that could ever work!"
"It would have worked. I had planned it all. And after long thought I
was quite clear about its being practical. Would it, do you think, have
been no penance to live near my dearest friend as if he did not exist?
For that is what I had decided to do. But then you meddled, you and the
women, and have hunted me along a crooked path to which I see no end,
and from which there is no turning back. Every step forward is a lie;
every prospect ahead fills me with new dismay. When I didn't repent, I
was glad and strong and full of courage, but now there is some alien
germ in my blood that spreads and spreads and is slowly poisoning my
whole being.... I see it, and yet can't do anything. I shudder to think
what may be coming. And this is what you have done with your cursed
preaching of penitence."
"Must repent, Fritzchen," drawled the old man, and emptied his glass.
"Then if it must be"--he came behind the old pastor and seized him by
the shoulders--"why haven't you let me bear the brunt of my sin alone?
Why did you throw me with that woman again? I have sinned more against
her than she against me, so I don't reproach her. Why have you kneaded
me into such a pulpy condition that when she came and prayed for my
society, I had no weapon of resistance left? She had no further part to
play in my life, nor I in hers, and yet here I am, coupled, as it were,
with her again. Does that belong to the course of repentance that you
have prescribed for me?"
"That is the first step, called 'contritio,' or prostration," said the
old man, sagely.
"Stop your drivel," roared Leo. "Again I ask you, why you have hounded
me and that woman into each other's arms?"
The old man wiped his forehead. His head was beginning to grow heavy.
"Collect your thoughts," demanded Leo. "Wasn't it my sister's idea?"
"Sister--which sister?" was the dreamy answer. Then suddenly waking up
he exclaimed, "Yes, you are right--quite right. She was the first to
think of it. A brilliant idea; a blessed idea. Then the souls of two
people have to be saved, Fritzchen, and that is no trifle."
"Save them, then, by all means; but separately, and each on its own
account."
"Ah, you don't understand, Fritzchen. _Similia, similibus_ is an old
doctrine. Jesus Christ became man in order that he might save men. The
sinner can only be saved through the sinner. You cast that soul into
the abyss, you alone can lift it out, and yourself with her. Then it is
written in Romans, or is it Corinthians, Fritzchen----?"
He emptied his glass, and forgot the passage he was going to quote. The
more difficult he found it to think rationally, the easier seemed the
solution of the problem under discussion.
"The matter is quite simple," he said. "As simple as A B C. Either you
don't repent, and the devil gets you; or, you repent and the devil
leaves you alone. If you can't remember it, I'll write it out for you.
Give me some more to drink, Fritzchen. This wine is first-rate. And
perhaps now if there's a salmon sandwich going----"
Leo rang and ordered provisions.
Christian, who grasped the situation, respectfully made the
announcement that the Herr Kandidat wanted to know when the Herr Pastor
would be likely to think of going. He considered that this little ruse
was permissible.
"Is your son here, too?" asked Leo, in quickly rising displeasure, for
he remembered the song of "The Smiling Stars."
"Yes, he is there, the spark," laughed the old man, radiant with
paternal pride. "Tell him he may trundle home alone. I don't want him."
Christian made his obeisance and retired, casting reproachful eyes up
to heaven. That even the clergy should drink too much seemed to him a
flaw in the divine dispensation of the world.
"That boy is a good-for-nothing!" exclaimed the pastor,
enthusiastically. "You can have no conception, Fritzchen, what a
good-for-nothing the boy is!"
"Why don't you whip him and send him back to school?" asked Leo.
"You are always ready with your tongue, Fritzchen. But I'll tell you
this." He leaned over to Leo, lowering his voice into a mysterious
whisper. "You can have no notion what a good-for-nothing he is." Then,
running his fingers through his scant, grey locks, he went on with
renewed enthusiasm, "He can drink, he has whiskers, and can write
verses. Ah, Fritzchen, when he sings his student-songs--oh, the grand
old days of youth where are they, tral-la-la?"
"Hush!" admonished Leo, for Christian was bringing in the tea-tray
loaded with cold viands, which had been ready waiting in the kitchen
for some time.
He vanished directly.
"And the duels, Fritzchen! Fire! ready! and there he stands on the
measure, as I used to do when I belonged to the Westphalian. Yes,
Fritzchen, this old world is a fair place, and it is worth enjoying
yourself in it--that is to say, when you are a full-blooded chap. In
the end, of course, the devil fetches us all. Look, Fritzchen, this is
the wing of a partridge in jelly.... Now, that reminds me of a story. I
took my scoundrel of a son once on a visit to Berlin. Pretty town,
Fritzchen, only a little too cultivated. As for the preachers and their
sermons, no force there; every sentence a piece of cooked veal in
raisin sauce. Where, I should like to know, does the Christian
scourging come in in such discourses, Fritzchen? Well, I said to my boy
Fritz--I mean Kurt--I said let us go and swell it for once. I vegetate
amidst the bullocks of Wengern, but before I die I should just like to
see and taste the proper thing.... Very good. So we went to a
restaurant--all gold, and mirrors, and chandeliers, and waiters in
tail-coats. One, as we came in, looked so curiously at us that I said
to myself, 'What's he staring at?' But he wanted us to order.... And
Kurt was not behindhand; he _did_ order. Fritzchen, there came
first oysters and truffles in pastry and sherry, then hare soup,
salmon-trout, Bayonne ham, with sauer-kraat in champagne.... Fritzchen,
mere common, homely sauer-kraat, but in _champagne_. Ha, ha, ha!
And--and artichokes, and so on. The fellow with the white cravat and
the cursed grin hovered in the background the whole blessed time. So I
said to my boy, 'Look out! That's the devil,' and right enough----"
"It was?"
"Yes; it was. For when we got up to go, what do you think the fellow
did? He brought a piece of paper with a long list of items on it, and
at the foot a total of seventy-eight marks! Do you see, Fritzchen, thus
it is with human life? We may be as bad as we like, always convivial,
but the devil stands at the door of our grave and presents the bill.
That's why we'll--we'll----Huzzah!"
The voice of thunder reverberated through the house.
"For God's sake stop singing," cried Leo, "or you'll completely ruin
your reputation with the women-folk."
"I don't care! I don't care! ... Oh, the women! Ah, if I was you,
Fritzchen! In your place I would be unrepentant. I'd just whistle
through life in junketing and tra-ra-la. For to you it is all the same.
You have gambled away your chances of eternal bliss. The devil will
fetch you for certain."
"Children, fools, and drunkards are supposed to speak the truth,"
thought Leo, "and here is all three rolled into one." Then he inquired,
"You don't think there is any deliverance for me?"
"Pshaw! Deliverance!" cried the old man, growing furious. "Deliverance
belongs to the dictionary of those philosopher dogs.... Schleiermacher,
the rascal, would have talked of 'deliverance.' But amongst honest
Christians we say 'salvation' and 'forgiveness of sins.' Yes,
Fritzchen, but they are not for you. It is all up. Truly one can never
tell the infinite depth of Christ's compassion; but if hell really does
exist, you belong there. Do you know how I came to this knowledge? It's
nearly five years ago, Fritzchen. I'll tell you how it was, Fritzchen.
But it is a terrible secret. You must close the door."
Leo, who was listening with keen attention, reassured him. "Only speak
low," said he; "that is the only precaution necessary."
"Very well, then," began the old man, spitting and spluttering as he
lowered his voice, and thrusting out his lips like the spout of a
steam-kettle. "One evening I sat with my brats, reading the Bible. My
wife, however, was out in the kitchen, baking apple turnovers. I
remember that quite well. Some one came to the door whom I didn't know,
and I asked him with apostolic gentleness, 'Fellow, what do you want
with me?' 'You are to come at once and administer the sacrament,' said
he. 'Pure cussedness,' thought I. 'Here has a man arranged to die on
this day of all others, just because I was going to sit down to
something good for supper. The ties of our profession, Fritzchen! But
when he let fall the words Fichtkampen and Rhaden----"
Leo sprang up. He felt that he paled.
"I see, my son," triumphed the old man, "that such names fill us with
disgust. But I can't help it. Now the affair took another aspect. I
forgot my apple turnover. I tore my gown and bands from the pegs,
packed the church plate, jumped into the carriage, and was off like the
wind. 'Fellow, tell me exactly what has happened,' I asked. He didn't
know; All he knew was that the master had been carried into the house,
covered with blood, at six o'clock that morning, and now it had come to
the last rites.... 'When did the doctor arrive, fellow?' 'The doctor
was there,' said he. 'What, at six o'clock in the morning?' 'Yes, your
reverence.' ... Fritzchen, that seemed to me suspicious. I get there.
House and yard as still as the grave. No one even to open the door to
me. At last a servant-girl came.... Corridor, parlour, salon--all quiet
and empty.... 'Does he still live?' 'Yes.' ... 'What happened?' 'He
fought a duel.' ... 'Ah! indeed.' ... I enter the bedroom.... You know
that room, Fritzchen? A lamp hangs there from the ceiling with a blue
shade. Fritzchen, a blue shade. Wasn't it blue, Fritzchen?... Emptiness
here too.... 'Where is he, in God's name?' ... 'There,' some one
says.... And I hear death-rattles coming from the canopied bed....
'Where is the doctor?' 'They have fetched him away to a confinement.
He'll soon be back.' 'And where is the lady of the house?' 'She has
shut herself upstairs in the spare room,' says my informant.... I draw
the curtains aside.... There he lies, swimming in blood.... The stream
flows from his nose and mouth.... And he looks at me with eyes glazing,
and makes a sign to me to wipe it away, so that he may speak."
"Stop!" groaned Leo.
"Yes.... I don't doubt it would suit your ticket if I stopped. Health,
Fritzchen!"
"I implore you not to go on."
"I dare say you are right, Fritzchen. It's hardly the subject for a
convivial entertainment, eh? How did I hap on it? Through the devil, of
course. You see, Fritzchen, that evening when _he_ told me the story of
you and her, I could hear her running about overhead I cried tears of
blood for your soul, Fritzchen. For you were dearer to me than my own
flesh and blood. But to-day I can't cry, Fritzchen, because I have
drunk too much wine. You must forgive me, Fritzchen."
He tried to raise his fat fingers deprecatingly to Leo, but the great
bulldog jowl dropped on his breast with a dull wheezing sound in his
throat. He had fallen asleep.
Leo bowed his head in his hands, and stared across at him with burning,
starting eyes.
"Thus grimly does the joke end," thought he, "that I permitted myself
to play off on my conscience."
He shuddered. He fancied he too saw the glazing eyes of the dying man
fixed on him, and heard the rattles in his throat--the man whose last
curse had been for him. And the woman who had raved and ramped about in
the locked guest-chamber above, who left her husband to die alone and
forsaken like a dog, because she dared not approach him with her
guilt-stained body. He could almost hear her sobs and whimperings
coming through the ceiling.... And all that--all was his--_his_ doing.
"It will drive me mad!" he cried, jumping to his feet.
He longed for the sound of a human voice, but only the snores of the
drunken old man fell on his ear. He would have given anything to have
some one to whom he could go to shriek out the torments in his breast;
but he had no one--no one but that woman who had sinned with him.
"Now I understand why she clings to me," he thought; "and perhaps soon
she will be as necessary to me as I to her."
He remembered the Leo Sellenthin of scarcely four weeks earlier. And he
came before him as a complete stranger. What had happened in the
meanwhile? He didn't know.
Restlessly, with his folded hands pressed against his brow, he ran up
and down the room, while the old pastor slept the sleep of the just.