CHAPTER VII.
AN ILLUMINATING FLASH
After the crisis of a storm has passed, a company of persons become very lively, and have an additional feeling of home. They had withdrawn into the inner music saloon, whose vaulted ceiling, brilliantly lighted up, had even a festive appearance. Half way up the walls of the room four balconies projected, and in the centre was the grand piano. On one side was a circular seat, upon an elevated platform, where Bella was sitting with the happy Justice's wife on the right, and the forester's wife on the left.
The young girls were promenading arm in arm through the saloon, and Pranken, full of his jokes, accompanied them; he carried in his hand a rose out of Lina's wreath; when Clodwig and Eric joined the circle, with the major, the young people came up to them.
Bella asked the major whether the work upon the castle, which Herr Sonnenkamp had begun to rebuild, was still continued. The major nodded; he always nodded several times before he spoke, as if carefully arranging beforehand what he should say.
He asserted very confidently that they would find a spring in the castle court-yard. Clodwig begged him to preserve carefully every relic of the middle ages and the Roman period, and promised soon to go himself, and superintend the excavations. The head-forester jestingly observed, "Herr Sonnenkamp," – everybody called him Herr, but with a peculiar accent, as if they wished no further acquaintance with him, – "Herr Sonnenkamp will probably now give his name to the restored castle."
When Herr Sonnenkamp's name was mentioned, it seemed as if a dam had been carried away, and the conversation rushed in headlong from all quarters.
"Herr Sonnenkamp has a deal of understanding," said the school-director, "but Molière maliciously observes, that the rich man's understanding is in his pocket."
The apothecary added, "Herr Sonnenkamp loves to represent himself as an incorrigible sinner, in the hope that nobody will believe him; but people do believe him."
Eric caught the names Herr Sonnenkamp, Frau Ceres, Manna, Roland, Frau Perini; it was like the chirping of birds in the woods, all sounds mingled together, and no one melody distinctly heard. The wife of the Justice, with a significant glance towards Pranken, said, "Men like the major and Herr von Pranken can take up at once such mysterious, interloping people from abroad, but ladies must be more reserved." Then she gave it to be understood that the old established families could not be too strict in receiving foreign intruders.
In a somewhat forced humor, Bella joked about the long nails of Frau Ceres; but her lips trembled when Clodwig said very sharply, "Among the Indians long nails take the place of family descent, and the one perhaps is as good as the other."
All were amazed when Clodwig spoke so disparagingly of the nobility. He seemed displeased at the detracting remarks upon the Sonnenkamp family; he was above all meanness, and everything small and invidious was as offensive to him as a disagreeable odor. Turning to Eric, he said, – "Herr Sonnenkamp, the present subject of the conversation, is the owner of many millions. To acquire such immense wealth is an evidence of strength; or, I should rather say, to acquire great wealth shows great vigor; to keep it requires great wisdom; and to use it well is a virtue and an art."
He paused, and as no one spoke, he continued, – "Riches have a certain title to respect; riches, especially one's own acquisition, are an evidence of activity and service. Far easier does it appear to me to be a prince, than to be a man of such excessive wealth. Such an accumulation of power is apt to make men arbitrary; a very wealthy man lives in an atmosphere saturated, as it were, with the consciousness of supreme power, and ceases to be an individual personality, and the whole world assumes to him the aspect of a price-current list. Have you ever met such a man?"
Before Eric could reply, Pranken roughly broke in, "Captain Dournay wishes to become the tutor of the young Sonnenkamp." All eyes were directed towards Eric; he was regarded as if he had been suddenly transformed, and clad in a beggar's garment. The men nodded to each other and shrugged their shoulders; a man engaging in a private employment, and such an employment too, had lost all title to consideration. The ladies looked at him compassionately. Eric saw nothing of all this. He did not know what Pranken meant by this surprising revelation; he felt that he must make some reply, but knew not what to say.
A painful pause followed Pranken's communication. Clodwig had placed his hands upon his lips, that had become very pale. At last he said, "Such an appointment will contribute to your honor, and to the honor and good fortune of Herr Sonnenkamp."
Eric felt a broad hand laid upon his shoulder, and on looking round he gazed into the smiling countenance of the major, who, pointing several times with his left hand to his heart, said at last, "The count has expressed what I wished to say, but it is better for him to have said it, and he has done it much better than I could. Carry out your purpose, comrade."
Pranken now came up, and said, in a very affable tone, that it was he who had advised and recommended Eric. Lina had opened a window, and called out in a clear voice, "The storm is over."
A fresh, fragrant air streaming into the saloon gave relief to their constraint, and every one breathed freely again. A gentle rain still pattered down, but the nightingales were again singing in the woods. They now urged the forester's wife to sing. She declined, but could not withstand the request of Bella, who very seldom played, that she would sing to her accompaniment.
The forester's wife sang some songs with so fresh and youthful a voice, so clear and simple, that the hearts of all the hearers were touched. Lina also was urged to sing. She insisted that she could not to-day, but, on receiving a reproving glance from her mother, she seated herself at the piano, sang some notes, and then gave up. Without embarrassment, as if nothing had happened, she said, "I have now proved to you that I can't sing to-day."
The wife of the Justice bit her lips, and breathed hard with quivering nostrils, at the foolish girl acting as if nothing was the matter. The forester's wife sang another song; and now Lina, placing herself at her side, said that she would sing a duet, but she could not sing alone. And she did sing, in a fresh soprano voice, somewhat timidly, but with clear and pure tone.
With unconscious simplicity, as if he were an old acquaintance, she now asked Eric to sing. The whole company united in the request, but Eric positively declined, and looked up surprised when Pranken joined in with the remark, "The captain is right in not exhibiting at once all his varied talents." It was said in the gentlest tone, but the sarcastic point was unmistakable.
"I thank you for standing by me like a good comrade," said Eric, looking round.
The sky was clear, only it still lightened over the Taunus mountains. The company took their leave, with many thanks for the delightful day they had spent, and the charming evening. Even the perpetually silent "Mrs. Lay-figure" now spoke, appearing in her fashionable new hood, which she had put on very becomingly. Just as they were departing, the physician made his appearance. He had been detained by the storm while visiting a patient in a neighboring village. He drove off with the rest, having scarcely had time to say good-evening to the Count Clodwig and Bella.
Bella drew a long breath when the reception was all over. There was much conversation in the different carriages, but in one there was weeping, for Lina received a sharp scolding for her behavior, in acting as if she were nothing but a stupid, simple country girl. Instead of being sprightly and making the most of herself, she behaved as if she had come, only an hour before, from keeping geese. Lina had for a long time been accustomed to these violent reproofs, but she seemed today to take them more feelingly to heart. She had been so happy, that now the severe lecture came doubly hard. She silently wept.
The Justice, who was no justice of the peace in his own family, took no part in this feminine outbreak. Not until he was ready to take a fresh cigar did he say, "This loquacious Dournay seems to me a dangerous man."
"I think him very agreeable."
"Woman's logic! as if the amiability, instead of excluding, did not rather include, the dangerous element. Don't you see through this very transparent intrigue?"
"No."
"Then put together these facts: we come across him at the convent, where the daughter of this exceedingly wealthy Herr Sonnenkamp is living, and he acts as if he knew no one, and had no special end in view. Now he wants to be the tutor of young Sonnenkamp. Ha! what a flash!"
A bright flash of lightning illumined not only the landscape, but the relation in which several people stood to each other. Especially the Eden villa was as clearly defined in every part as if it were only a few paces off.
"Just see," continued the Justice, "how this great pile of buildings and the park are lighted up, and no one knows what is brewing up here. Amazing world! Baron Pranken introduces this Dournay to his sister-in-law and his father-in-law as a friend, and yet these two men are sworn enemies."
The wife of the Justice was vexed with her husband. He was so animated, and made such keen observations, alone with her and at home, while in society he had hardly a word to say, and let others bear away all the honors.
"Who is the father-in-law you speak of?" she asked, for the sake of saying something.
"Why, Herr Sonnenkamp, of course; at least, he is to be. That inexhaustible wealth of his is guano for the Baron Pranken; he needs it, and why should he trouble himself about where it comes from?" Lina threw her veil over her face, and shut her eyes. The Justice now explained the special reasons why neither he, nor his wife, should become mixed up in these affairs.
"This captain-doctor is a dangerous man, dangerous in many respects." This was his last remark, and they were silent until they reached home.
CHAPTER VIII.
CONFESSION OF TWO KINDS
Otto von Pranken walked with his sister Bella up and down the garden. Otto informed her that he had recommended Eric to Herr Sonnenkamp, but that he was already very sorry for it.
Bella, who was always out of humor after she had made herself a victim to the collation, turned now her ill humor against her brother, who had introduced to her as a fitting guest one who was, or wished to be, a menial, and above all, a menial of that Herr Sonnenkamp. With mischievous satisfaction she added thereto, that Otto must take delight in boldly leaping over difficulties, since he had recommended into the family such an attractive person as this doctor – she made use of that title as being inferior to that of captain. The natural consequence would be that the daughter of the house would fall in love with her brother's tutor.
"This Herr Dournay," she ended by saying, "is a very attractive person, not merely because he is extraordinarily handsome, but yet more because he possesses a romantic open-heartedness and honesty. Whether it is genuine or assumed, at any rate, it tells, and particularly with a girl of seventeen just out of a convent."
Otto answered good naturedly, that he had given his sister credit for a less commonplace imagination; moreover, that Eric was an acknowledged woman-hater, who would never love a real woman of flesh and blood. Yet Pranken declared his intention of calling the next morning at the villa, and telling Herr Sonnenkamp in confidence how very reluctant he was to give the recommendation; that he should beseech him to dismiss the applicant politely, for he might with propriety and justice say that Eric would inoculate the boy with radical ideas; yes, that it might further be said to Herr Sonnenkamp, that to receive Eric would be displeasing at court. This last reason, he thought, would carry all before it. Pranken had worked himself into the belief that to have a secure position in the court-circle was the highest that Herr Sonnenkamp could aim at.
Bella rejected this plan; she took pleasure in inciting her brother to gain the victory over such an opponent; that would inspire him with fresh animation. Moreover, that it might be well to offset the Lady Perini, whose ecclesiastical tendencies no one had thoroughly fathomed, by a man who was a representative of the world, and under obligations of gratitude to them. And further it was not to be doubted that a perpetual, secret war would exist between Donna Perini and this over-confident Dournay, so that, whatever might happen, they would have the regulation and disposal of matters in their own hands.
Bella forgot all her vexation, for a whole web of intrigue unfolded itself clearly to her sight, agreeable in the prosecution, and tending to one result. She was the confidante of Fräulein Perini, but she herself did not wholly trust her, and Otto must remain intimate with Eric; and in this way, they would hold the Sonnenkamp family in their hands, for Eric would undoubtedly acquire great influence.
Otto strenuously resisted the carrying out of the part assigned to him, but he was not let off. A cat sitting quiet and breathless before a mouse-hole will not be enticed away, for she knows that the mouse will come out; it is nibbling already; and then there is a successful spring. Bella had one means of inducing her brother to do as she wished; she need only repeat to him how irresistible he was, and how necessary it was for him to gain that self-confidence which had hitherto stood him in such good part. Otto was not fully convinced, but he was persuaded that he soon would be. And, moreover, this Dournay was a poor man whom one must help; he had taken today the sudden revelation of his position in life with a good grace, and behaved very well.
Whilst brother and sister promenaded in the garden, Eric sat in the study of Count Clodwig, that was lighted by a branching lamp. They sat opposite, in arm-chairs, at the long writing-table. "I regret," Clodwig began, "that the physician came so late; he has a rough rind, but a sound heart. I think that you and he will be good friends."
Eric said nothing, and Clodwig continued: "I cannot understand why my brother-in-law, in his peculiar manner, informed the company so suddenly of your intention. Now it is a common topic of conversation, and your excellent project loses its first naïve charm."
Eric replied with great decision, that we must allow the deed resolved upon in meditation to come into the cold sharp air of the critical understanding.
Clodwig again gazed at him fixedly, apparently surprised that this man should be so well armed at all points; and placing his small hand upon a portfolio before him as if he were writing down something new, he resumed: —
"I have, to-day, been confirmed anew in an old opinion. People generally regard private employment as a degradation, regardless of the consideration that the important thing is, in what spirit one serves, and not whom he serves. 'I serve,' is the motto of my maternal ancestors."
The old man paused, and Eric did not know whether he was going on, or waited for a reply; but Clodwig continued: "It is regarded as highly honorable when a general officer, or a state official undertakes the education of a prince; but is it any the less honorable to engage in the work of educating thirty peasant lads, or to devote one's self, as you do, to the bringing up of this wealthy youth? And now I have one request to make of you."
"My only desire is to grant it."
"Will you tell me as exactly as possible how, you have so – I mean, how you have become what you are?"
"Most willingly; and I will deserve the honor of being allowed to speak so unreservedly, by not being too modest. I will speak to you as to myself."
Clodwig rang a bell that stood upon the table, and a servant entered. "Robert, what room is assigned to the doctor?" "The brown one directly over the count's chamber." "Let the captain have the balcony chamber." "If the count will pardon me, the luggage of Leonhard, Prince of Saxony, is still in that room." "No matter; and, one thing more, I desire not to be interrupted until I ring."
The servant departed, and Clodwig settled himself in the arm-chair, drawing a plush sofa-blanket over his knees; then he said, "If I shut my eyes, do not think that I am asleep."
In the manner with which Clodwig now bade Eric speak out frankly, there was a trustful kindness, very far removed from all patronizing condescension; it expressed, rather, an intimate sympathy and a most hearty confidence. Eric began.
CHAPTER IX.
A SEEKER
"I am twenty-eight years old, and when I review my life, it seems to me so far to have been only a search. One occupation leaves so many faculties dormant, and yet the torture of making a choice must come to an end; and in every calling of life the entire manhood may be maintained and called forth into action.
"I am the child of a perfectly happy marriage, and you know what that means. I shared, from my third year, the education of the Prince Leonhard. There was a perpetual opposition between us, the reason of which I did not discover until later, when an open breach occurred. I then saw for the first time, that a sort of dissimulation, which does not agree with good comradeship, had made me outwardly deferential, and inwardly uneasy and irritated. Perhaps nothing is more opposed to the very nature of a child than a perpetual deference and compliant acquiescence.
"I entered the military school, where I received marked respect, because I had been the comrade of the prince. My father was there my special instructor, and there I lived two years with your brother-in-law. I was not distinguished as a scholar.
"One of the happiest days of my life was the one on which I wore my epaulets for the first time; and though the day on which I laid aside my uniform was not less happy, I am not yet free from inconsistency. I cannot to this day, see a battery of artillery pass by without feeling my heart beat quicker.
"I travel backwards and forwards, and I pray you to excuse disconnected narration. I have, to-day, been through such a various experience; but I will now endeavor to tell my story more directly and concisely.
"Soon after I became lieutenant, my parents removed to the university city; I was how left alone. I was, for a whole year, contented with myself and happy, like every one around me. I can remember now the very hour of a beautiful autumn afternoon, – I still see the tree, and hear the magpie in its branches, – when I suddenly reined in my horse, and something within me asked, 'What art thou doing in the world? training thyself and thy recruits to kill thy fellow-men in the most scientific manner?'"
"Allow me to ask one question," Clodwig mildly interrupted. "Did the military school never seem to you a school of men, and part of your profession?"
Eric was confused, and replied in the negative; then collecting his thoughts, he resumed: "I sought to drive away oppressive thoughts, but they would not leave me. I had fallen out with myself and my occupation. I cannot tell you how useless to myself and to the world I seemed to be, – all was empty, bare, desolate. There were days when I was ashamed of my dress, that I, a sound; strong man, should be loafing about so well dressed, my horse perhaps consuming the oats of some poor man."
"That is morbid," Clodwig struck in with vehemence.
"I see it is now; but then it was different in the first stress of feeling. The Crimean war broke out, and I asked for a furlough, in order to become acquainted with actual war. My commander, Prince Leonhard, at the rifle-practice, casually asked me which army I meant to join; and before I could reply, he added, in a caustic tone, 'Would you prefer to enlist with the light French or the heavy Englishman?' My tongue was tied, and I perceived clearly my own want of a clear understanding of my position. How mere a cipher was I, standing there without any knowledge of myself or the world! My outer relations shared in the total ruin of my inner being. Must I relate to you all these petty annoyances? I deserved to have them, for there was in me nothing but contradiction, and my whole life was one single great lie. A uniform had been given me; I was not myself, and I was a poor soldier, for I abandoned myself to the study of philosophy, and wished to solve the riddle of life. I am of a peculiarly companionable, sympathetic nature, and yet the continued life among my fellow-soldiers had become an impossibility.
"I bore it two years, then asked for my discharge; which I received, with the rank of Captain, out of respect to my parents, I think. I was free, at last, and yet, as I said before, it saddened me to break away from my life.
"I was free! It was strange to look out into the world and say. World, what do you want of me? What must I do for you? Here are a thousand employments; which shall I take? I was ready for anything. I had a fine voice, and many people thought that I might become a professional singer, and I received overtures to that effect. But my own inclination led in a very different direction. An earnest longing possessed me to make some sacrifice for my fellow-men. Had I been a devout believer, I think I should have become a monk."
Clodwig opened his eyes and met Eric's beaming glance. After a short pause, Clodwig nodded to Eric, then folded his arms again on his breast, laid his head back, nodded again, and closed his eyes. Eric continued: —
"When I first went through the streets in a civilian's dress, I felt as if I were walking naked before the eyes of men, as one sometimes seems to be in troubled dreams. In such a helpless, forlorn state of feeling, one grows superstitious, and is easily governed by the merest accidents; The first person who met me, and stared at me, as if doubting who I was, was my former captain, who had left the service, and was superintendent of a House of Correction for men. He had seen the notice of my discharge, and remembering some of my former attempts in that direction, asked whether I meant to devote myself entirely to poetry. I answered in the negative, and he told me that he was looking for an assistant. My decision was soon made; I would consecrate myself to the care and elevation of my fallen fellow-men. After entering on my new occupation I wrote to my parents. My father replied to me, that he appreciated my efforts, but foresaw with certainty that my natural love of beauty would make a life among criminals unbearable to me; he was right. I tried with all my might to keep in subjection a longing for the higher luxuries of life, but in vain. I was without that peculiar natural vein, or perhaps had not reached that elevated standpoint, which enables one to look upon and to treat all the aspects of life as so many natural phenomena. In my captain's uniform, I received more respect from the prisoners than in my citizen's dress. This experience was a sort of nightmare to me. Life among the convicts, who were either hardened brutes or cunning hypocrites, became a hell to me, and this hell had one peculiar torment. I fell into a mood of morbid self-criticism, because I could not forget the world, but was constantly trying to guess the thoughts of others. I tormented myself by imagining what men said of my course. In their eyes I seemed to myself now an idealistic vagabond, if you will allow the expression. This I was not, and would not be, and above all, I was determined that my enemies and deriders should not have the triumph of seeing me the wreck of a fickle and purposeless existence.
"Ah, I vexed myself unnecessarily; for who has time or inclination to look for a man who has disappeared! Men bury the dead, and go back to their every-day work, and so they bury the living too. I do not reproach them for it, it must be so.
"It became clear to me that I was not fitted for the calling I had chosen. I lived too much within myself, and tried in every event to study the foundation and growth of character of those around me, not willing to acknowledge that the nature and actions of men do not develope themselves so logically as I had thought. Besides, I was too impassioned, and possessed by a constant longing for the beautiful.
"I thought of emigrating to the New World, but what should I do there? Was it worth while to have borne such varied experiences and struggles in order to turn a bit of the primeval forest into a cornfield? Still, one consideration drew me toward America. My father's only brother, the proprietor of a manufactory of jewelry, lived there, but was quite lost to us. He had loved my mother's sister, but his suit was somewhat harshly rejected, and he left Europe for the New World. He cast off all connection with his home and family, and turned out of his house in New York a friend of my father's who guardedly mentioned us to him. He would hear nothing of us, nor even of Europe. I imagined that I could reconcile my uncle, and you know that a man in desperate circumstances looks for salvation to the most adventurous undertakings.
"My good father helped me. What he had always recognized as my true vocation, from which I had turned blinded by the attractions of army life, I now saw plainly. A thirst for loneliness arose within me; I felt that I must find some spot of earth where no disturbing tone could penetrate the inner life, where I could immerse myself in solitude. This solitude which is inclusive of all true life, study, the world of letters, now offered to me. My father helped me, while showing me that my past life was not wasted, but must give me a new direction and a peculiar success. He brought me a birth-day gift which I had received in my cradle; the senate of the University; in which he had lectured before his appointment as tutor of the prince, had bestowed upon me soon after my birth its certificate of matriculation, as a new-born prince receives a military commission."
Clodwig laughed heartily, rubbed his eyes, leaned forward with both hands on his knees, looked kindly at Eric, and begged him to go on.
"I have little more to tell you. I soon schooled myself, or rather my father schooled me, to live for universal ends, and to put aside all personal aims as much as possible. I devoted myself to the study of ancient literature, and every aspiration for the beautiful, which had idealized the poet's vocation for me, found satisfaction in my introduction to the classic world. 'Every man may glory in his industry,' says the poet. I worked faithfully, and felt only in my father's house the happiness of a child, and in my youth the joy of mental growth. My father hoped that success would be granted me where he had failed; he made me heir of those ideas which he could neither establish as scientific truth, nor impart from his professor's chair, if there ever were a happy home, made holy by lofty aspiration, it was my parents' house. There my younger brother died, now very nearly a year ago; my father, who already was sorely sick at heart, with all his stoic fortitude could not bear this blow. It is two months since he also died. I kept down the anguish of my bereavement, finished my studies, and received my doctor's degree a few days ago. My mother and I formed various plans, but have not yet decided upon any. I made this excursion to the Rhine in compliance with my mother's advice, for I have been working very hard; on my return we meant to come to some decision. I met your brother-in-law, and I feel it my duty not to turn away from the opening which has offered. I am ready to enter into private service, knowing what I undertake, and believing that I am thoroughly equipped for it. There was a time when I thought I could find satisfaction only in working for some great public interest; now I should be content to educate a single human being, still more to co-operate in training to a fitness for his great duties one, who, by his future lordship over vast possessions, represents in himself manifold human interests.
"I have come to the end of my story. I do not wish that any one should think better of me than I deserve, but I also wish to pass for what I believe I am. I am neither modest nor conceited; I may be in dangerous ignorance, for I do not in the least know how I am regarded by others; I have shown only what I find in myself by honest self-examination. I mean to be a teacher. He who would live in the spirit, and has not the artist's creative power, must be a teacher; for the teacher is, so to speak, the artisan of the higher being, and, like every artisan, is so much the better workman, or teacher, the more of the artist spirit he has and uses. A thought is the best gift which man can bestow upon man, and what I give my pupil is no longer my own. But pardon me for having fallen into this vein of preaching. I have shown you my whole life, as well as I can; where I have left any gaps, pray question me."
"Nothing further is needed," said Clodwig, rising, and quietly laying aside the sofa-blanket. "Only one question. Have you never had the desire to marry, or has that not entered into your plans?"
"No, I shall not marry. I have heard so many men say, 'Yes, ideals, I had them too, but now I live in and for my family.' I will not sacrifice everything higher to the caprice of a pretty woman. I know that I am at variance with the world; I cannot dissemble, nor can I change my own way of thinking, nor bring others over to mine. I have set myself a difficult life-task, which can be best carried out alone."
Clodwig stepped quickly towards Eric and said: —
"I give you my hand again. This hand shall never be withdrawn from you, so long as it has life. I had something else in view for you, but now I cannot and need not speak of it; I will subdue my own wishes. Enough; press on quietly and firmly towards your goal; whatever I can do to help you reach it, you have a right to demand. Remember you have a claim upon me in every situation and condition of your life. You cannot yet estimate what you have given, and are still giving me. Good night, my dear young friend."