CHAPTER VI.
THE FORBIDDEN FRUIT IN EDEN.
A strange spirit, meanwhile, made its appearance at Villa Eden. It waskept in concealment, and yet had nothing spectral; it was bright andluminous, and yet produced a great hurly-burly.
The morning after the departure of Eric's mother, Roland had gone tothe vine-covered cottage, to get a book out of the library for Eric.With the simple desire of seeing how it looked now the Mother was away,he had entered the open door of her room. An open book was lying uponthe table, and on the fly-leaf there was written in English: To myfriend Dournay--Theodore Parker.
Roland was startled. This is the man, then, whom the Mother had spokenof as a saint a few days ago, and whom he was to get acquainted with byand by. He took the book and secreted it.
At noon, he asked permission to go and see Claus, and it was given.Eric remained at home, for he wanted to finish a letter to ProfessorEinsiedel that he had begun some time ago. But Roland did not go to seeClaus; he sat down under the lofty willows by the river-bank, steadilyreading, with occasional glances at the stream.
What does this mean? Here is a champion, an inspired one, aGod-revering champion, fighting for civilization and against slavery.He read of a man, whose name was John Brown, who was hanged on thegallows at Harper's Ferry for his attempts to abolish slavery. He readand learned how Parker had prophesied a mighty struggle; and thesewords fell into the youth's soul like a spark of fire: "All the greatcharters of humanity are written in blood."
He read on and on, until he could see no longer for the darkness. Andnow it occurred to him that he had meant to call upon Claus, and hehurried towards the village.
Eric met him as he was going, and was very angry at being deceived.
"Where have you been?" asked Eric.
"With this man;" handing Eric the book.
Roland had eaten forbidden fruit from the tree of knowledge, and Ericwas surprised to see how deep an impression had been made upon theyouth. A new and difficult task was before him, to keep the youth fromsaying anything in his father's presence.
"Who is Brown?" inquired Roland. "Can you tell me about him?" Eric toldhim. He narrated the martyr's history, and dwelt with emphasis on thefact, that even in our day life is offered as a sacrifice, and that apure self-surrender raises to the sublime even the man wearing acaptain's gay uniform of the present day. He wanted to show,incidentally, that the costume of every age and every condition in lifecould be the symbolic expression of the highest greatness; but Rolanddid not go along with him, and he had the apparently difficult task ofjustifying, or, at least, of explaining the position of Sonnenkamp, whohad incontrovertibly taken the opposite side.
"Yes, yes," exclaimed Roland; "now I remember you said, when we werewith the Russian at Wolfsgarten, 'You could not imagine that a whiteboy and a negro boy could be comrades.' Are you, too, a friend ofslavery?"
Eric tried to explain his meaning; and, while striving to reconcile thedifference, he was pleased to notice how open the youth's soul was toevery impression, and how tenaciously it clung to things spoken of onlyin a cursory and incidental way.
Eric sat with Roland until it was very late; he was obliged to satisfyhis ingenuous mind, and this was almost the hardest task that had everbeen laid upon him. The youth was to be made to perceive that there wasanother way of considering the question, one that regarded slavery asjustifiable and a righteous necessity; he was never to let his fatherknow that he considered him in the wrong, and that he had happened tobecome acquainted, through the Professorin, with a spirit that oughtnot to have been conjured up in this house. Eric called to mind hismother, who had admonished him, with reason, that he was to adopt thatcourse of instruction for Roland which was necessary, and not thatwhich the youth himself preferred. Circumstances now rendered itnecessary to follow only that track which the youth had entered uponfor himself. It was a matter of rejoicing that he had of himself struckout the path; it was just what all education proposed: and now was heto turn aside from this track, and to shatter in pieces the abidingfundamental principle. Thou shalt, and thou shalt not?
"It seems to me like a dream," Roland went on to say; "a great negroonce held me in his arms; I remember distinctly all about him; Iremember his woolly hair, and how I pulled him by it; his face wassmooth, without any beard at all."
"The negroes have no growth of beard," added Eric, and the youthcontinued, dreamily:--
"I have been carried by negroes--by negroes."
He continued to repeat the word in a lower and lower tone, and thenbecame silent. Suddenly he passed his hand over his brow, and asked,--
"Are the people who are slaves fond of their children? Do you know anysong they sing?"
Eric had very little to say in reply. Roland wanted to know how all theancient nations regarded slavery. Eric could give him only asuperficial statement; he proceeded to open his letter to ProfessorEinsiedel, and requested that he would tell him what books treated uponthe subject of slavery among the Jews, Greeks, Romans, and especiallythe ancient Germans.
When Roland was at last ready to go to bed, he produced Thomas aKempis, and placed it beside Theodore Parker.
"I would like to imagine," he said, "how they would regard one another,if they stood side by side. I fancy Thomas a Kempis to be an extremelydevout, refined monk; and when I imagine Theodore Parker, I think ofhim as a grandson or great grandson of Benjamin Franklin."
Eric was more and more amazed, for he saw how deeply Roland had thoughtabout them both.
Thomas a Kempis makes men recluses, leads them continually intothemselves, and then above the human world; Parker also leads men intothemselves, but afterwards out of themselves and into the world aroundthem.
When Roland and Eric went, the next day, to post the letter toProfessor Einsiedel, they saw the boat coming up the river, on whichwere the Mother and Sonnenkamp. They made a signal, and repaired to thelanding. Roland was astonished that Manna had not come with them, forhis father had promised to bring her. Sonnenkamp went on in advancewith Eric, and asked after the household. He seemed in a very badhumor.
Roland detained the Mother, and when the others were out of hearing, heasked her:--
"Did Manna tell you too that she was an Iphigenia?"
"No. What did she mean by that?"
"I don't know."
The Mother pressed her lips together; she had some idea of what shemeant; she understood her lamentation, and her thankfulness to God, forhaving called her to endure the extreme of woe. She inquired about theconnection in which the expression had been used, but Rolandinterrupted her by telling her that he had read the book which she hadforgotten.
The Mother was startled, but felt more at ease when Roland related toher that Eric had set him right in the matter, and that he himselfwould be sure to keep the secret.
Nevertheless, she was deeply troubled, on reaching the villa, at havingbrought hither a spirit which could not dwell under the roof. Thefreedom of her soul was taken away, for that which she had kept inconcealment had now begun to exert an influence openly. It was nolonger subject to her control, and it might suddenly appear in afrightful and perplexing form.
Frau Ceres was sick again. Fraeulein Perini could not be spared amoment, and sent her thanks for the kindly greeting of the Professorinand Sonnenkamp.
Like a child who is always bright and cheerful, always living in thepresent moment, disturbed by no confusion, and no subtleties ofthought,--so appeared the Major, and every one took delight in hissteadfast and natural equability. He thought it was well that Manna hadnot returned now; when the castle was completed, it would be just thenicest thing: out of the convent into the castle. He should be gladwhen they were all together again; he couldn't stand this everlastingstarting off and bursting away from each other like a bomb-shell; therewasn't a better and finer place than right here in the country, andthey couldn't get anywhere more than sky, and water, and mountains, andtrees.
The Major cheered up the company, who were sitting at the tea-table ina strangely absent mood. The Professorin afterwards accompanied himhome. She sat talking with Fraeulein Milch until it was quite late, andappointed her as first assistant in the charitable organization. Sheseemed exactly fitted for it, as she knew everybody and everybody'scircumstances. She desired that, for the first thing, a dozen sewingmachines should be distributed in the surrounding villages; she wouldherself teach the women and girls how to use them.
The Major and Fraeulein Milch accompanied the Mother back to the villaby starlight. She was refreshed and strengthened. Her soul waspeaceful, and a saying of Goethe's seemed to be sounding withinher:--"Thou canst not perceive what thou art by reflection, but only byseeking to perform thy duty."
She had a work before her that would uplift her and the wholeneighborhood.
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