Das landhaus am Rhein. English

by Berthold Auerbach

  CHAPTER XIII.

  DEVIL GETTING WONTED.

  Pranken's horse stood saddled in the court, and Pranken himself waswalking up and down, snapping his riding-whip. In exceedingly goodspirits, and in a very amiable mood, he hastened to meet Sonnenkamp,saying that he must take leave of him. There was a tone of banteringpoliteness in their manner towards each other. When Sonnenkamp remarkedthat Pranken was always surprising one, never saying that he was goingaway until the very moment of starting, Pranken answered, with mockmodesty, that he was sure that he must in that way meet the approval ofhis friend Sonnenkamp, for nothing was more disagreeable, and made lifemore insipid and dull, than a constant talking over and discussion andcooking up of plans; he shot the hare, and left it to be dressed by theartists of the kitchen.

  Pranken said all that with his usual rattling manner, as he twisted theend of his light moustache. He took a cool leave of Eric, saying thathe hoped to find him still there on his return from a short journey.

  "Should you, however, leave before I come back, have the kindness topresent my respects to the gracious--" he paused a moment, then added,"to the Professor's lady, your mother."

  He had taken off his glove when he said good-bye to Sonnenkamp, butdrew it on again before he held out his hand to Eric, and it wasevident that he did so intentionally. This coldness was ratheragreeable to Eric; a part of his debt of gratitude was removed asPranken treated him more distantly, and they could perhaps be moreharmonious and independent when they were thrown together.

  Pranken called Sonnenkamp aside, and said, though he certainlyhad recommended the young scholar--haughtily emphasizing thisexpression--he would beg him not to conclude any hasty engagementwithout making a strict examination himself.

  "Herr Baron," replied Sonnenkamp, "I am a merchant--" he made awatchful pause before continuing,--"and I know what recommendationsare, and how often one is forced to give them. I assure you that youare free from all responsibility, and as to the examination myself--Iam a merchant, Herr Baron--" again the wary pause,--"the young man isthe seller, and a seller always has to lay himself open, and to showwhat he is, more fully than the buyer, especially here, where theseller is offering himself for sale."

  Pranken smiled, and said that was the deepest diplomacy. He went to hishorse, vaulted nimbly into the saddle, and set off at a gallop.Sonnenkamp called after him that he must see whether the magnolia inthe convent yard was thriving; he waved his hat to show that heunderstood, and rode away at full speed.

  "A charming, agreeable young man! always bright and merry," Sonnenkampsaid, as he looked after Pranken; and he went on to remark, at somelength, on his constant light-heartedness.

  Eric was silent. There seemed to prevail in this circle into which hewas introduced, a perpetual commenting and remarking upon others. Heknew Pranken, he knew tins everlasting galloping style of utterance,which is always so extremely animated, and even becomes enthusiasticwhen the conversation can be turned into an emulous contest ofraillery. But this galloping genius had a deep foundation ofinsincerity, for it was not possible to be strained up every moment tothis pitch: it could only be the result of violent tension, which mustperpetually make a show of energy, and in this constant effort the soulmust, consciously or unconsciously, put on a false appearance.

  Eric quietly listened to his remaining statements, and only whenSonnenkamp asked him whether he did not think that the man, who hadfrom his youth been conscious of a superior rank, could alone attain tothis regal and sportive mastery over life, only then did he answer,that no fair province of life was shut out from the middle class.

  Sonnenkamp nodded very acquiescingly. His saddle-horse was now broughtto him, and he immediately mounted and rode off.

  Eric went in search of Roland, and found him with his dogs. The boydesired that Eric should at once select one of them for himself. "Andonly think," he added, "a day-laborer just informs me that the dwarfhas received a bite from Devil. Served the stupid fellow exactly right,for trying to do what he wasn't fit to do."

  Eric was shocked. Was it possible that a young heart could already beso stony? He laid down to Roland at length how inhuman it was to regarda human being as a mere puppet, and to have no further concern abouthim, after one has had his sport out of him. His whole heart was movedwith feeling as he spoke. Roland disdainfully threw back his head.

  "Why do you make no reply to me?" Eric asked.

  "Ah! I had no idea that you would preach to me like all the rest."

  Attracted by the beauty of the boy, and his bold spirit, Eric had cometo the determination to devote himself to him, and now, for an instant,he experienced a revulsion of feeling, but only to devote himself withfresh earnestness to his resolve. He would soften and thaw out thissoul, naturally hard, or made so by the training it had received.

  Roland went up quietly to Eric, and requested him to ride out with him.They rode together to the village. But Roland could not be induced tovisit the dwarf, whom Eric found lying on the bed, moaning andgroaning. When he arrived at the house of the huntsman, he did not findRoland, who had gone with Devil into the woods upon the height.

  The huntsman greeted Eric less submissively; he lifted his cap, indeed,but only to cock it a little one side; he approached him in thatfamiliar way so common on the upper Rhine, where it always seems as ifone would touch glasses, and make himself friendly with you.

  "Captain," he asked, "have you settled matters?"

  "No."

  "May I be permitted to say something to you?"

  "If it is something good, why not?"

  "That's just as one takes it. That one, down there"--he pointedwith his thumb back to the villa--"that one is buying up the wholeRhine-land. But see you, that fox-hound there--"

  "Stop," at once exclaimed Eric, proceeding to point out, in a verydecisive manner, that he had no right to speak so to him, and aboutanother person.

  Eric was aware that he had not properly preserved his own dignity, orthis man would not have been able to approach him so familiarly; and hewas now more severe in repelling this forwardness than he intended. Thehuntsman only puffed the more vigorously at his pipe, and then said,--

  "Yes, yes, you are the one to seize the man down there by the throat,and I see that you are too smart for me. You wish to get off fromthanking me; I want no thanks, and no pay."

  He muttered to himself, that everything which came near the rich manwas always spoilt.

  Eric must undo somewhat the impression he had made, for the huntsmanwas the only one who could rival him in his influence over Roland. Thehuntsman took, in very good part, Eric's expressions of friendliness,but he remained silent. When Roland came back, Eric asked him nothingabout his excursion to the woods, and told him nothing about the dwarf.It was Roland's place to ask him, but the boy said nothing, and theyboth rode back in silence.

  Eric immediately caused himself to be announced to Herr Sonnenkamp, andinformed him that he now felt compelled to assume a definite relationwith Roland.

  "You find Roland, then, an excellent youth?"

  "He has great boldness, determination, and--I know that a father canonly hear it with unwilling ears, but after your searching inquiriesyesterday, I may be permitted to hope that you are sufficiently freeto--"

  "Certainly, certainly; only speak out."

  "I find a degree of hard-heartedness, and a want of sympathy with thepurely human, surprising at such an age;" and Eric related how Rolandhad deported himself in regard to the dwarf.

  A peculiar smile darted over Sonnenkamp's features, as he asked,--

  "And do you feel confident that you can make a corrupted nature noble?"

  "Pardon me, I said nothing about a corrupted nature; I should say,rather, that Roland is just now changing his voice, in a spiritualsense, and one cannot judge what tone it will take; but so much themore necessity is there for care in the kind of influence exerted."

  "And what is your opinion of Roland's talents?"
/>
  "I think that he is not superior to the average. He has a good naturalunderstanding, and a quick comprehension, but persistency,--_that_ isindeed very questionable, and I have already observed that he goesalong well enough a certain distance, then comes to a standstill, andwill pursue the thought no farther. I am not yet very clear in regardto this mental characteristic; if it cannot be changed for the better,I should fear that Roland would be unhappy, for he would experience noabiding satisfaction, nor would he feel the delight, nor theobligation, of perseverance. Yet this is, perhaps, drawing too fine athread."

  "No, no, you are right. I place no reliance upon my son's stability ofcharacter; he only lives from hand to mouth. It is a bore to him to doanything of which he cannot see the direct result.

  "That is the way with children. But such children never make sterlingmen; therefore I wanted Roland to love plants, as he would then beobliged to learn that there was something which can at no time beneglected or forgotten."

  "I am rejoiced," Eric replied, "that you here remind me of the mostvital points. First of all, the rich man, and the son of a rich man,like the prince and the son of a prince, have only subservient friends.Against my will I have become Roland's play-fellow, and so thesubsequent serious work will be interfered with."

  "Is it impossible then, to combine work and play?"

  "I hope to do so. But the necessity of work must be recognized." Ericcontinued silent, and Sonnenkamp asked,--

  "You have still another point?"

  "Most certainly, and it is this. As I have already suggested, Rolandmust acquire a steadfast relation to external things, an intimate bondof union with them, as then only will he be at home in the world. Hewho has no recollections of childhood, no deep attachment to that whichhas transpired around him, is cut off from the very fountain-head ofgenial and hearty affection. Question yourself, and you will find--yourreturn to Germany fully proves it--that the heartfelt, endearingrecollections of childhood were the very sustenance, what one mayperhaps call the spiritual mother's milk, of your deepest soul."

  Sonnenkamp winced at these words, and Eric added,--

  "Homelessness is hurting the soul of your son."

  "Homelessness?" Sonnenkamp exclaimed in astonishment.

  His face quivered for an instant, and his athletic strength seemedeager to make some outward demonstration, but he restrained it withinthe bounds of forced composure, asking,--

  "Do I rightly apprehend you? Homelessness?"

  "That is what I think. The inner life of the child needs training, thatit may cling to something; a journey is, perhaps, not harmful to thesoul of a child; at the best, it has little effect upon him. A child intravelling has no distinct impression from all the changes of thelandscape; he takes delight in the locomotive at the station, and inthe wind-mill on the hill. One fixed point in the soul anchors itfirmly. I said that the human being ought to have an object to strivefor, but permit me to add to that, that he must also have a fixed pointof departure, and that is the home. You said, and I see it myself, thatRoland takes no real delight in anything; and is not that owing to thefact that the boy is homeless, a child of hotels, with no tap-root inany place, and still more, no deep-seated impressions, no pictures inhis memory which have become a portion of his very life, and to whichhe returns from all his wayward fancies? He told me that he had playedin the Coliseum at Rome, in the Louvre at Paris, in Hyde-park atLondon, and on the lake of Geneva,--and now, living in Europe, yetalways proudly conscious of being an American,--this causes--pardon me,I only ask the question--does this not cause a restlessness of spirit,which may be fatal to any growth?"

  "I see," Sonnenkamp answered, leaning back his head, "you are anincarnate, or one might rather say, an insouled German, who runs overthe whole world, in reality and in thought, and cajoles himself alwayswith the self-complacent notion, 'I am so whole-souled, and that ismore than the rest of you are.' Pah! I tell you that if I bestowanything of worth upon my child, I believe it will be just this, thathe will be free from that sentimentality of a so-called settled home.The whistle of the locomotive scares away all the homesickness sotenderly pampered of old. We are in fact cosmopolites, and that is justthe greatness of American civilization, that, not being rooted in thepast, national limitations and rights of citizenship have no narrowinginfluence upon the soul. The home-attachment is an old nuisance and aprejudice. Roland is to become an untramelled man."

  Eric was silent. After a considerable time, he said:--

  "It is, perhaps, not beneficial, but tiresome, both to you and to me,to deal in generalities. I would only say, that however littlecalculated travelling may be to create an inner satisfaction, whenthere is no definite object to be attained that one can all along holdin view, much less can a life that has no special aim of action,thought, or enjoyment, confer any central peace. If Roland now had somespecial talent--"

  "Do you find none at all in him?"

  "I have discovered none as yet; and still it seems to me, that if hehad been born under different circumstances, he would have made aserviceable lock-smith, or a good groom. I hope you do notmisunderstand that--I consider it a guaranty for human equality, thatwhat a man becomes, wholly or chiefly depends upon circumstances.Hundreds of judges would have become, under different circumstances,common laborers, and hundreds of common laborers would have becomejudges. As I said before, it is to me a direct proof of the universallydiffused capacities of human beings, that only the few have the geniusthat absolutely demands a special work."

  "I understand, I understand. And do you think that you can train a boy,of whom you have formed so low an opinion?"

  "I have not a low opinion of Roland, neither of his head nor his heart.He seems to me not unsusceptible of love, but it is to him anenjoyment, not also a duty; he has the qualities belonging to theaverage of men not marked by any special characteristic, and those areentirely sufficient to form him, under judicious and proper direction,into a good and honorable man, happy himself, and able to make othershappy. And I shall be very glad, in the meanwhile, if I am mistaken inattributing to Roland no special genius."

  "I honor and value highly your great earnestness," Sonnenkampinterposed, "but I am just now in great haste. Inform Roland of yourposition."

  He seemed out of humor, as he rolled his cigar from one corner of hismouth to the other, and busied himself with his papers, just as if Ericwere no longer present.

  Eric left the work-room of Sonnenkamp, and betook himself to Roland. Hefound the boy busily employed in chewing a piece of half-raw meat, andgiving the chewed morsels to the lately broken-in dog; the huntsmanaffirmed that that would attach the dog to him inseparably. Eric lookedon a while, and then requested Roland to send the dog away, as he hadsomething to say to him.

  "Can't the dog stay with us?"

  Eric made no reply, for he saw that he must first settle whether he orthe dog had the deepest hold. On his casting a sharp look again uponRoland, the boy said, "Come, Devil, wait here at the door," andreturning, he exclaimed, "There, now go on."

  Eric took Roland's hand, and informed him that he had come to be histutor. Roland leaned his handsome head upon his partly closed hand,gazing at the speaker fixedly with his large, restless, glowing eyes.

  "I knew it," he said at last.

  "And who told you?"

  "The huntsman and Joseph."

  "And why did you say nothing to me about it?"

  Roland made no answer to this, only looking at the speaker, as if hewould say, "I can wait." He only once removed his gaze, when Ericadded, that he had wished to try first whether he was adapted to thefamily. Roland still remained silent. The dog scratched at the door;Roland looked towards it, but did not venture to open it. Eric openedit. The dog sprang in, crouched down before Roland, and then went toEric and licked his hands; he seemed to be a mysterious messenger, asilent yet eloquent interpreter between them.

  "He likes you too!" Roland cried out in childish delight.

  These were the only words spoken by the b
oy. Suddenly springing up, hethrew himself upon Eric's breast, where he was held in a firm embrace;the dog barked as if he must express himself.

  "We will be true to each other," Eric exclaimed, unclasping his arms;"I had a brother of your age, and you are to be my younger brother."

  Roland, without speaking, held Eric's right hand between both of his.

  "Now let us at once begin our life, fresh and bright."

  "Yes," replied Roland, "we'll make Devil fetch something out of thewater; he does it splendidly."

  "No, my dear brother, we will go to work. Let us see what you havelearned."

  Eric had noticed particularly, that Roland, who was deficient in everyother branch of knowledge, had a pretty good acquaintance withgeography. He tested him in this, and Roland was highly pleased to beable to give him accurate answers. They gradually passed to theconsideration of other studies, and then Roland appeared confused, andfor Latin he had a hatred amounting to a personal hostility.

  "We will quietly study what is necessary," Eric said consolingly, "andthen we will ride, drive, shoot, fish, and row."

  This prospect cheered the boy very much, and when the clock struck inthe tower, he suddenly observed,--

  "In one hour Herr von Pranken will be with Manna. I can learn to ride,fence, and shoot, as well as Herr von Pranken, don't you think I can?"

  "Certainly you can."

  "I sent a letter, too, to Manna by Herr von Pranken."

  "What language did you write it in?"

  "English, of course. Ah! it just occurs to me,--all speak so highly ofyour mother, let your mother come too; she might live out therein oursmall, vine-covered house."

  The boy could say no more, for Eric lifted him up, pressed him to hisbreast, and kissed him. The boy had uttered what at first sight hadflashed through his own soul, and now it was evident that he bestowedgladly, loved to confer benefits, and to contrive pleasure for others;his hard-heartedness towards the dwarf disappeared as a meresuperficial blemish.

  A servant came and announced that dinner was served. Holding each otherby the hand, Roland and Eric went to the dining-room.