Das landhaus am Rhein. English

by Berthold Auerbach

  CHAPTER X.

  ENTICEMENTS ABROAD.

  Eric and Roland lived together in the castle, for so the rooms in theturret were called, as if they had taken possession of a new abode, andwere all alone; no sound from the human world penetrated here, nothingbut the song of birds, and the ringing of the bells of the villagechurch on the mountain.

  A regular employment of the time was instituted; until noon they knewnothing of what was going on in the house, and Roland lived almostexclusively in the thought of Benjamin Franklin.

  New analogies were continually presenting themselves, and it wasespecially productive of them that an American youth, a rich youthbesides, who had never been deprived of anything, should lay out forhimself a life full of deprivations. Roland lived and moved wholly inFranklin; he spoke, at the table, of Benjamin Franklin, as if he were aman who had just appeared, and was invisibly present and speaking withthem. Roland wished to keep a regular record of what he thought anddid, exactly as Franklin had done, but Eric restrained him, knowingthat he would not persevere in it, being as yet too fickle. And thiscalling one's self to account was peculiarly adapted to one who stoodalone, or was seeking the way by himself. But Roland was with Eric frommorning till night. They repeated Franklin's physical experiments, theyentered into his various little narratives, and Roland would often askon some occurrence:--

  "What would Franklin say to that?" Eric had been in doubt whether heshould say anything to Roland of the interview with Herr Knopf. He waswaiting for a more suitable time; he felt that the fixed order ofRoland's method of life should not now be disturbed.

  There was a great commotion at the villa, for the entire contents ofthe hothouse were brought out into the park, and a new garden was madein the garden. Roland and Eric did not see it until everything wasarranged.

  Pranken made a brief visit almost every day, and when he remained todinner, he spoke a great deal of the princes of the church; he alwayscalled the bishop the church-prince. A second court-life seemed to havebeen opened to him, and this court had a consecrating element, wasself-ordering, and needed no Court-marshals.

  Herr Sonnenkamp enquired with much interest about all the arrangementsat the Episcopal court; but Frau Ceres was wholly indifferent, for shehad discovered that there was no court ball given, and no ladies werevisible, except some very worthy and respectable nuns. Frau Ceresentertained a great dislike to all nuns, principally because they hadsuch great feet, and wore such clumsy shoes and cotton gloves. FrauCeres hated cotton gloves; and whenever she thought of them, sheaffirmed that she experienced a nervous _shiver_.

  The days were still; the trees from the South grew green and fragrant,with those that were native to the soil; but the quiet days came to anend, for they were packing up and making other preparations in thehouse. Lootz was the director, and huge trunks had already been sentoff.

  It was a rainy morning: Eric and Roland were sitting together withFranklin's life again before them. Eric perceived that Roland wasinattentive, for he often looked towards the door.

  At last there was a knock, and Sonnenkamp, who had never beforedisturbed their morning's occupation, now entered the room. Heexpressed his satisfaction that the course of instruction had been soregularly arranged, and he hoped that it would suffer only a temporaryderangement from the journey, as they could immediately resume it onarriving at Vichy.

  Eric asked in amazement what this reference to Vichy meant, and wastold that the family, with the whole corps of servants, male andfemale, as well as Roland and Eric, were going to the mineral baths ofVichy, and from there to the sea-baths at Biarritz.

  Eric composed himself with great effort; the struggle had come soonerthan he anticipated, and he said that he did not know what Rolandthought about it, but that, for his own part, he had made up his mind,that he could not take the journey to the Baths.

  "You cannot go with us? Why not?"

  "It is unpleasant to me to make this declaration in Roland's presence,but I think that he is sufficiently mature to comprehend this matter. Ithink, I am firmly convinced, that a serious course of study cannot beresumed at a fashionable watering-place, and then continued atBiarritz. I cannot begin the instruction after my pupil has beenhearing, in the morning, all kinds of music at the fountains. No humanbeing can be confined there to earnest and fixed thought. As I said, Iconsider Roland mature enough to decide for himself. I will remain hereat the villa, if you desire it, until your return."

  Sonnenkamp looked at Eric in astonishment, and Roland, supplicatingly.Sonnenkamp did not appear to rely upon his self-command sufficiently tomeet the family tutor in the requisite manner, and he therefore said ina careless tone that the matter could be discussed in the evening. In ahalf-contemptuous manner, he begged pardon for not having informed Ericof his plans for the summer at the University-town.

  Eric now sat alone with Roland, who, in silence, looked down at thefloor. Eric let him alone for awhile, saying to himself. Now is thecritical time, now is the trial to be made.

  "Do you understand the reasons," he at length asked, "why I cannot andwill not continue our life of study, this life that we pursue together,in a place of amusement?"

  "I do not understand them," said the boy, perversely.

  "Shall I explain them?"

  "It is not necessary," replied the boy, sullenly.

  Eric said nothing, and the silence enabled the boy to realize how hewas behaving; but there was something in the soul of the youth thatrebelled against anything like subjection. Taking up a different topic,Roland asked:--

  "Have I not been diligent and obedient?"

  "As it is proper that you should be."

  "Do I not deserve now some amusement?"

  "No. The performance of duty is not paid for, and certainly not byamusement."

  Again there was a long silence, the boy turning up and down the cornersof the biography of Franklin, which he had just been reading. Withoutsaying anything, Eric took the book out of his hand and laid it down.With his hand upon the cover, he asked,--

  "What do you think that Franklin would now say to you?"

  "I can't tell what he would say."

  "You can, but you do not choose to."

  "No, I cannot," said the boy. He stamped insolently with his foot, andhis voice was choked with tears.

  "I have a better opinion of you than you have of yourself," said Eric,taking hold of the boy's chin. "Look at me, don't look down to theearth, don't be out of humor."

  Roland's countenance was unmoved, and the tears stood motionless in hiseyes. Eric continued,--

  "Is there any good thing in the world that I would not like to giveyou?"

  "No; but----"

  "Well, but what? Go on."

  "Ah, I don't know any. And yet--yet--do go for my sake, go with us; Icould not take pleasure if you were not with us--I there, and you herealone."

  "Would you like to journey then without me?"

  "I will not do it, you are to go too!" said the boy, springing up andthrowing himself upon Eric's neck.

  "I declare to you most decidedly, I do not go with you."

  Roland let his hands fall, when Eric grasped them, saying,--

  "I could also say in my turn, Do stay here for my sake; but I will not.Look up brightly, and think how it would be if we remain together here.Your parents travel to the Baths; we stay here and learn somethingregularly, and are happier than we should be on the promenade, with themusic of the saloon, happier than by the sea-shore. See, Roland, I havenever been to France, nor seen the sea. I renounce the pleasure, Iprefer the duty; and do you know where my duty lies?"

  "Ah, the duty can go with us wherever we go," cried the boy, smilingamidst his tears. Eric was obliged to laugh too; at last he said,--

  "This duty cannot travel abroad. You have had distractions enough allyour life. Come, be my dear comrade, my good fellow. Have confidence inme, that I can see reasons which you cannot."

  "Yes, I do have c
onfidence, but it is so splendid, you can't imagineit, and I will show everything to you."

  A whirlwind seemed to have seized Roland, so that he turned round andround. It came over him with a rush, that he had forced Eric to remainwith him, that he had forced his father to give Eric to him, and now hewas about to desert him! But there was the enticement of the music, thepleasant journeys, the protecting ladies, and the roguish girls whoplayed with him. Suddenly he cried,--"Eric! thy mother!" for she hadsaid to him on taking leave, Be so worthy, that Eric will never leaveyou! This thought was now aroused within him, and on the other hand,there were the carriages driving, and the merry troop riding onhorseback, and he among them. How could this old, grave lady, clad inmourning, who stood in the path, detain him? It was like a feverishwaking dream.

  "Eric! thy mother!" cried he again, and then he said, embracing him,--

  "Eric! I remain with you! now help me, so that they shall not take meaway without you."

  "You are not to be obstinate with your parents, but you have now also aduty to me; you must not leave me, as I must not leave you."

  It was a hard struggle to gain the consent of the parents to Roland'sremaining at the villa with Eric. Frau Ceres was brought over thesoonest, but Sonnenkamp held out, and Roland looked on in perplexity.The desire arose in him that his father would withhold his consent, andEric be prevailed on to go with them.

  Eric took the father aside, and told him that he considered it would bethe ruin of Roland, if now when he had voluntarily pledged himself, andwas constrained to do what was best, the whole should be upset; theyouth had never, on account of various distractions, come to anyknowledge of himself. He declared that, grievous as it would be to him,he should be obliged to leave the family, if Roland went with them. Hehad not said this to Roland, for Roland should not be permitted tothink upon the possibility of the tie being severed. He besoughtSonnenkamp to employ now a little policy; it would not be wrong. He wasto say to Roland, that he wanted to test his constancy, and he was gladthat he had stood the trial; that he had hoped Roland would make theproposal to stay with Eric, and he gave his consent.

  Inwardly chafing, Sonnenkamp complied with this proposition, and Rolandsaw himself released on the one side, and bound on the other.

  On. the next day, the parents set out on the journey.

  Eric and Roland drove with them to the railroad station, and when theapproaching train was signalized to be near, Sonnenkamp took his sonaside, and said to him,--

  "My boy, if it is too hard for you, jump into the car, and leave theDoctor to himself. Believe me, he won't run away from you; there is agolden whistle by which every one can be called. Be bold, youngfellow."

  "Father, is this also a part of the test you have put me to?"

  "You are a plucky youth," answered Sonnenkamp, with emotion.

  The train rumbled in. A great number of black trunks, studded withyellow nails, were put on board, Joseph and Lootz showing themselvesexpert travelling-marshals. Boxes, bags, portmanteaus, bottles, andpackages were placed in the first-class car which Sonnenkamp, FrauCeres and Fraeulein Perini occupied. Roland was kissed once more,Sonnenkamp whispering at the same time something in his ear. The trainrolled away, and Eric and Roland stood alone on the station-steps.

  They went silently back to the villa. Roland looked pale; every drop ofblood seemed to have left his face. They reached the villa, where allwas so silent and desolate.

  After they had got out of the carriage, Roland grasped Eric's hand,saying,--

  "Now we two are alone in the world. What can one undertake at such atime?"

  The wind roared in gusts through the park, and shook the trees, whoseblossoms went whirling into the air, while the river tossed up itswaves; a thunder-storm was coming on.

  Eric ordered the horses to be put again to the carriage, and entered itwith Roland, who asked,--

  "Where are we going?"

  Eric quieted him with the assurance that he was about to show him amiracle. They drove down the road, where the wind was dashing about thebranches of the nut-trees, while the lightning flashed and the thunderrolled overhead.

  "Where are we driving?" Roland asked again.

  "We are now going to school to Franklin. I can now show you how thelightning is tamed." And they drove on to the railroad station.

  The telegraphist gave Eric a very friendly reception. Eric showed hispupil, in the office of the telegraph, the electrical current in apretty little glass box, where a blue spark darted rapidly hither andthither, and then vanished over the connecting wires. At every flash asharp click came from the connecting rods, and, at the same instant,the little blue flame appeared and then vanished.

  Eric was glad to be able to exhibit this to his pupil, and thetelegraphist added many important and interesting details. He relatedhow they were inexpressibly troubled in their communications during athunderstorm, for incomprehensible words came over the wires, and hewas once hurled by a shock of electricity against the stove yonder. Heshowed the metal plates to draw off the lightning, which often struckand cut off the conducting rods as nicely as if done with a sharp file.

  They had removed the lights, and saw only the little blue flame, whichRoland watched with childish delight. It was easy to explain theoperation of the electro-magnetic telegraph, and Roland said,--

  "Even if Franklin was not acquainted with this, he yet first caught thelightning."

  "Do you think that he could know what would be the results?"

  Eric endeavored to explain to Roland, that in all discovery, invention,creation and action, there is a great bond of unity, a continualprocess of development. And here in this dark room, while the littleblue flame was dancing, and the three persons hardly venturing to speakaloud soon became utterly speechless, the soul of the youth was touchedwith a feeling of devotion, and raised far above the range of ordinaryexperience. The separation from his parents, the pleasure that hadallured him, all had vanished, had sunk out of sight, as if he wereliving on some star remote from the earth.

  The storm had ceased, and a copious rain was falling; when the windowwas re-opened, Roland said, gently taking Eric's hand, and looking outinto the night,--

  "Can one not imagine, that the soul in the bodies of human beings moveslike the electrical spark on the wire?"

  Eric made no reply. He saw that the boy was beginning to see somethingof the enigma of life; he must work it out for himself, and could notand must not be helped at present. And this trifling question gaveassurance that the higher life could be preserved in the youth; he hadovercome the desire of dissipation, and had given himself up to whatcould not be made slavishly subject to his will.

  The telegraphist gave an account of Sonnenkamp's frightful appearanceand conduct on the night that Roland was missing. He said in alow tone to Eric, that he himself was afraid of the man, and thatnotwithstanding the considerable sum of money which he offered him toremain there through the night, he had pleaded as an excuse the want ofofficial orders, because he would not remain alone with Sonnenkamp forall the gold in the world.

  Eric perceived that Roland had heard the last remark notwithstandingthe low tone, and said in a jesting way, that a man who has to dealwith the nervous filaments extended over the earth might very readilybecome nervous himself.

  The telegraphist assented, and had many wonderful stories to tell. WhenEric went with Roland into the passenger's room, he was surprised tosee Roland's quick eye for the laughable characteristics of people. Hehad observed very shrewdly the peculiarities of the telegraphist, andimitated him very exactly. Without a direct rebuff, Eric endeavored toexplain to his pupil, that those persons who are partly engaged inwork, and partly in science, in that middle region of the vocations oflife, such as apothecaries, surgical operators, lithographists,photographists, and telegraphists, are easily carried from one extremeto the other. Telegraphy created a certain excitability, andsusceptibility, on account of the direct arousing of the faculties andthe operation at great distances, which give to the
soul a certaintension and excitation.

  Eric sought to explain all this to his pupil; he would have liked togive him the just views which are embraced in the knowledge ofpsychological principles, but he led him back to the wonderful in whatthey had seen, and he succeeded in his purpose of deeply impressingthis upon the soul.

  The stars were glittering in the heavens, when they returned home fromtheir glance into the mysterious primitive force of earth's being.

  Eric could not restrain the impulse to picture to his scholar what hadbeen probably the feelings of that people of the desert, on the eveningof that day when Jehovah had revealed himself to them in thunder andlightning upon Mount Sinai; how it must have been with them when theywent to rest, and how it must have seemed to the souls of thousands, asif the world were created anew.

  Eric hardly knew what he was saying, as he drove through the refreshedand glistening starry night. But the feelings of the boy and the manwere devotional. And after they reached home neither wished to speakone word, and they quietly bade each other good-night. But Eric couldnot go to sleep for a long time. Is the light in the soul of a humanbeing an incomprehensible electric spark that cannot be laid hold of,and which flashes up in resolve and act? So long as there is no stormin the sky we send at will the spark over the extended wire; but whenthe great, eternally unsubdued, primitive forces of nature manifestthemselves, the human message is no longer transmitted, and the sparksspontaneously play upon the conducting wires. Chaos sends forth anunintelligible message.

  A time will come when thou shalt no longer be master of the living soulof thy pupil, in which, with all thy heedful precaution, rude,uncontrolled elements are at work. What then?

  There is no security given for the whole future, and in the meantime,what concerns us is to fulfil quietly and faithfully the duty of theday.