Das landhaus am Rhein. English

by Berthold Auerbach

  CHAPTER II.

  ONE'S OWN PART IN THE WORLD.

  Manna walked dreamily along, but became roused to full consciousnesswhen the dogs Rose and Thistle sprang up to her, rejoiced to have theirmistress with them again.

  "So our wild doe has got home?" cried a voice from a distance; it wasthat of the field-guard, Claus, who had the dogs with him. "I mustn'tspeak to you now as I used to," he exclaimed. "Hi! how tall you are!But what are you so sad for? Cheer up! Just see, Fraeulein, all round,as far down as the rocks there, your father has bought it all."

  "Can one buy the earth?" asked Manna, as if waking from a dream.

  Claus replied:--

  "What do you say? I don't understand you."

  "It was of no consequence," answered Manna. Can one buy then theimmovable ground? From whom? Who has a right to it? This questionpresented itself to Manna as an enigma; she gazed intently into theempty air, and hardly heard the huntsman's narrative of his recentexperiences. When he said:--"Yes, Fraeulein, I've been a simpleton, andam very sorry for it," she asked him:--

  "What have you been doing?"

  "Zounds! I repeat that I've been doing nothing; that all my life I'vebeen a simple, honest fellow, and not a bad one at all. The biggerrascal one is, so much the better off. What now does the world give me?People can make you bad, but good--who can make you that? The onlycomfort grows there on the hillside--there's where the drop of comfortcomes from, but I can get only a beggar's sup. I should just like toknow whether Herr Dournay is a true man; I think there's no true mengoing now except Herr Weidmann. You've been in the convent, and is't afact that you want to be a nun?"

  Manna had not time to answer, for Claus continued, laughing:--

  "I've many a time thought that I'd like to go into a convent, too.Everybody ought to be able to go into a convent when he's sixty yearsold; nothing to do there but drink and drink, until death claps hiswarrant upon you. But I don't want to make death's acquaintance yetawhile; I say, like the constable of Mattenheim: Lord, take your owntime, I'm in no hurry."

  Although so early in the morning, the field-guard was a little excitedand talked a little thick. Manna was afraid of him, but now gave himher hand and went off with the dogs.

  "I'd like to ask one favor of you!" he called after her.

  She stopped.

  He came up, and stated to her that the gauger had given him a ticket inthe Cathedral lottery, and he had sold it to Sevenpiper, and if thenumber drew the first prize, he should tear all the hair out of hishead, and never have a minute's comfort with his children the rest ofhis life. If Manna would give him a dollar, he could buy the ticketback again.

  As Manna hesitated, he added:--

  "It's a pious matter, and just suits you."

  Manna did not comprehend what he meant, and she learned now, for thefirst time, that a lottery had been set up to raise money for thecompletion of the Cathedral. She gave the dollar, and walked quicklyaway.

  She went along the Rhine. The smooth surface was broken only by thecircling ripples, and the fishes could be seen sporting beneath; thewillows on the banks quivered in the morning breeze, and were mirroredin the stream. Manna entered the park. The fragrance of flowers waswafted on the fresh, sparkling air, and a divine peace was diffusedeverywhere around. The flowers glistened with a lustrous brightness,and each color was heightened and glorified by the other; the whiteadded to the splendor of the blue, and the red was softened in itsburning glow, making a holy, peaceful harmony.

  Each flower, each tree in blossom, helps to make fragrant the air whichthe daughter of the house inhales; and around her is a human atmospherewhose elements are hard to analyze. The father, harsh, and violent,wanted to force his will upon his child either by kindness or severity;the mother, wrapped up in her own feelings, wholly taken up withherself and her ardent longings for worldly show.

  The Professorin thought much of Manna, and would willingly have givenher rest; would have helped her over the first days and imparted whatshe could, but she knew very well that it was not best to offeranything before it was asked for.

  The Aunt's look and manner seemed always to be saying: I am all ready,if there is anything you want of me. There was no particular thing thatshe desired to proffer Manna, but she would have held back nothing.

  Eric was very deeply interested; he smiled to himself as the comparisonoccurred to him: This child out of the convent must feel as you did,when you left the regiment and doffed your uniform; formerly kept understrict discipline, she must now be under self-discipline altogether,and must feel the want of commands, of comrades.

  Manna took the single seat under the weeping ash, that had been put inorder for her again, and now she wondered why she had been so rudeyesterday to Eric.

  She wanted to say the first time she saw him: Do not believe that Ipresumed in this way because you are dependent and in service.

  And at this same moment Eric was walking alone in the park, andproposing to say when he should meet with Manna: I would not have ourintercourse begin with ill-humor or a misunderstanding.

  Manna, hearing approaching footsteps, now looked up and saw Eric comingalong the path. She remained seated. As he came nearer, he greeted her,but neither of them uttered the contemplated speech.

  Eric began:--

  "I should like to give you a proof that I hold sacred the interiorsanctuary of your thought--and if yesterday I--it was a day of greatexcitement. I beg you would also remember that my employment tends tomake me interest myself even in the thoughts of those with whom I haveno concern."

  His tone was subdued. Manna was at a loss what to reply. Both weresilent, and there was nothing heard but the singing of the birds. Atlast Manna said:--

  "Tell me about Roland. What is his character?"

  "My father used to say, dear Fraeulein, that no one could describe toanother the characteristics of his fellow; that each one sees thetraits in an entirely different light."

  "You are evading my question."

  "No. I wanted to say to you that I do not consider it feasible tocharacterize any person justly. If I praise Roland, it seems to me asif I were praising a portion of myself; and if I point out hisdeficiencies, then perhaps I am too severe, because I feel as if theywere my own. One thing, however, a human being may be allowed to say inhis own commendation; and so I may be allowed to say of Roland, that hehas industry, perseverance, and truthfulness; this is the solid rock onwhich the moral superstructure can be erected."

  Manna involuntarily held up her prayer-book with both hands, as if itwere a shield.

  Eric, thinking he understood the meaning of this motion, said:--

  "It has been, and is, a leading object with me, that Roland should gainan eye of his own, and trust to his own eye."

  "An eye of his own?" Manna asked in wonderment.

  "Yes, you will readily perceive what I mean by that. And now I have onefavor to ask for myself."

  "For yourself?"

  "Yes Simply believe that I hold in high respect your ideal of life,because I regard it as sincere in you; and the favor I have to ask is,that you will do the same with me."

  "I was not aware--" Manna answered, blushing deeply.

  A sort of pain darted through her soul; on her face there was anexpression of perplexity and conflict, for she was haunted by whatPranken had said. Is this demand of Eric's what Pranken had calledsetting up as a pattern of honesty, and did Eric, who might know ofthat view, exhort her to judge impartially, whilst he laid a specialemphasis on having an eye of one's own? She could not complete hersentence, for Roland came up, saying,--

  "Indeed! Have you found each other out so soon?"

  Manna rose hastily, and went to the villa, holding Roland by the hand.

  Pranken came out with Sonnenkamp to meet them, and immediately saidthat he had been to church too; but he considered it a duty not todistract Manna by speaking to her in the morning.

  Manna expressed her thanks.
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br />   At breakfast, Pranken had many anecdotes to relate, and he did it well,of the royal hunting-lodge, and particularly of events at Court. And hesucceeded in giving a new and humorous setting out to many worn-outgarrison stories, that were fresh to this circle.

  "Dear child," Sonnenkamp broke in, "you have not congratulated Herr vonPranken on his appointment as chamberlain."

  Manna bowed in congratulation, and Pranken referred in a cheerful wayto the contrast there would be between his summer life as a husbandman,and his winter as chamberlain. He said, further, that the happiest dayof his life had been the one he had spent on the island ploughing; anda single rose was the only thing that he envied, upon which glancesfell that he would have liked to turn towards himself.

  Manna blushed.

  Pranken went on to say that the Prince would drink the waters, thissummer, at Carlsbad.

  Sonnenkamp immediately added, that Doctor Richard some time ago hadprescribed these waters to him as better suited to his case than thoseof Vichy.

  All the links seemed supplied for a complete chain when Prankennarrated, in continuation, that his brother-in-law Clodwig, and hissister Bella, would visit Carlsbad this summer.

  "And you must accompany us," Sonnenkamp said, nodding to Pranken.

  Before she was fairly settled at home. Manna saw herself withdrawn fromthence into the whirlpool of a watering-place life. Mention wasmade of Lina's non-acceptance of the invitation, and Pranken spokevery cleverly of the pleasant impression that her half-childlike,half-matronly appearance made upon him. He wanted to obviate any illeffects from Manna's hearing that he had for a while paid court to herfriend. He then declared that he would take the snow-white pony toWolfsgarten with him, in order to have it perfectly trained for Manna.Her remark, that she now took no pleasure on horseback, was set asidein an almost authoritative way by her father, who said the physicianhad directed only the day before, that Manna should keep as much aspossible in the open air, and take a great deal of exercise.

  Manna must now give a name to the snow-white little horse. Prankenwanted to have this done in due form, but Manna declined. When theyrose from breakfast, she went to the stable, and gave to the snow-whitepony three lumps of sugar.

  "Now for the name--the name!" cried Sonnenkamp.

  "She has given him his name," replied Pranken laughing; "she has givenit to him bodily. Sugar is the pony's name, is it not?"

  A smile passed over Manna's countenance for the first time, as shereplied,--

  "No, we will call him 'Snowdrop.'"

  Pranken bade her good-bye with much feeling, and rode away in a smarttrot down the road, making the sparks fly under his horse's hoofs.Manna saw the groom leading behind him the snow-white pony by thehalter; she would not be perverse, but be moderate in all things. Itseemed to her emblematic, to ride on horseback again, before sherenounced all worldly trifles, and lived wholly in herself and foreternal realities.

  Manna accompanied her father through the park and garden, and throughthe conservatories, and thanked him heartily for promising to send tothe convent beautiful flowers, which could thrive well there in theenclosed courtyard. Sonnenkamp had it in his mind to confide to her theexpected elevation to the rank of the nobility, but he wanted to waitfor a suitable opportunity. The child must not be too suddenlyintroduced into the distracting whirl. He observed with satisfactionthe large southern trees and plants, which were soon to be brought outinto the open air. At first they only opened the doors in order to letin the outside air, and then the plants were brought out into shelteredsituations out-of-doors. So would he do with his child.

  Manna had soon made a fixed arrangement for the day's occupations,which she adhered to as an established rule; and this methodicalstrictness soon exerted an influence over the whole family. She foundit difficult to deal with her mother, and chiefly in the matter ofdress; for Frau Ceres, who changed her dress several times a day,wished Manna to do the same. But she was in the habit of putting on inthe morning the dress which she was to wear all day, and was evenreluctant to accept any service from her own dressing-maid. She kept onthe morning dress, and it seemed to her as the only suitable thing, andalone worthy of the higher human life, that the nuns never varied theirdress. By this means all distraction and waste of thought on outwardappearance were saved.

  She took no part in the beneficent activity of the Professorin. She hadbriefly given as a reason, that she had still too much to do forherself, and was not prepared to do for others.

  She had, moreover, a decided antipathy to the assistant, FraeuleinMilch.

  She did not express this in words, but in her whole conduct; sheavoided speaking with Fraeulein Milch; and never gave her hand to her.

  This was the effect of Fraeulein Perini's teachings, who had withdrawnher from all connection with Fraeulein Milch before Manna had enteredthe convent, as if the modest housekeeper had been a witch who could doher harm. She used to say to the child:

  "The whole life and character of this person are an impropriety."

  Manna took regular lessons of the Aunt in harp-playing, and AuntClaudine was the only one who seemed to possess her confidence. Sheshowed her copy-books to her, and particularly the astronomical oneswith the alternate blue leaves and the golden pictures of the stars.

  During the clear evenings, she spent several hours with the Aunt uponthe flat roof of the villa, looking at the stars through a telescope.It was evident that Manna had been thoroughly taught; for theconvent-school made a special point of surpassing the worldly schoolsin scientific instruction. Of course, all science was confined withinthe bounds which faith prescribes.

  With all the dignified loftiness of her demeanor, there was somethingcharmingly attractive in Aunt Claudine; she seemed to have lost orrenounced something in life, and so there was a gentleness which morecompletely won Manna's affection.

  In the Professorin, with all her friendliness, there was somethingcommanding; she was self-contained, and gave without ever receiving.

  Aunt Claudine, on the other hand, in spite of the difference of years,could be a young person's friend, and Manna felt the tranquillizingeffect of this friendship.

  Manna's maturity of thought often excited more surprise than even heractual knowledge. Her emotional nature had been widely developed; herreligious earnestness and her settled religious convictions gave herserene composure and elevation, which might be mistaken for pride. Shealways felt as if she were placed on an invisible height, far abovethose who had no living faith. But this was not a boastful feeling ofsuperiority; it was a sense of being supported, every moment, by allthe great influences and views through whose aid so many holy men andwomen had won the battle of life.

  Manna took especial delight in the lessons upon the harp; she said tothe Aunt, that it seemed to her as if she had never heard herselfbefore.

  The Aunt explained that this was the first step of progress; thatimprovement really begins when one hears and sees himself.

  Manna's eyes beamed softly, and she asked Aunt Claudine if thisstanding up alone by one's self in the world had not often been veryhard for her.

  "Certainly, my child. When one in youth makes a decision that affectsthe whole life, he does not know the real meaning of it."

  Manna grasped convulsively the cross upon her bosom, and the Auntcontinued:--

  "Yes, my child, it requires courage and energy to be an old maid; atthe time this resolution is taken, one is not fully conscious of howmuch it will require. Now, when I am alone, I am contented andpeaceful; but in society and the world, I seem to myself often sosuperfluous, and as if only tolerated out of pity. Yes, my child, andone must take care not to be compassionate and sentimental towardsone's self, or bitter; for the pitying of one's self often leads tobitterness and resentfulness."

  "I can comprehend that," returned Manna. "Did you never have a longingto be able to enter a convent?"

  "My child, I would not like to mislead and disturb you."

  "No, say what you please, I can hear it all."<
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  "Well, then, there are some institutions productive of so much harm,that they have forfeited the right of being perpetuated, at least, aswe regard it. And, dear child, I could not, myself, live without art,without secular music, without the sight of what the plastic arts haveproduced and are still producing; herein I agree fully with mybrother."

  Manna looked in amazement at the Aunt; and she had the impression thata new view of life was unfolded to her, that was like the religious,and yet wholly peculiar in itself.

  Towards Eric's mother. Manna was respectful but reserved. She treatedher brother's teacher as a member of the family, but as a piece ofproperty, an object, of utility, to which one could have recoursewhenever there was need. There were hours and days when she had no moreto do with him than if he had been a chair or a table. She often put aquestion to him directly and naturally, if she wanted any particularthing elucidated; and as soon as Eric began to expatiate beyond thespecial topic under consideration, she would say with great decision:--

  "I did not want to know about that. I thank you for the information youhave given."

  She never received any instruction for which she did not immediatelythank him, just as she would a servant for anything handed to her.

  The whole family had the feeling that here was a strength adequate toattain its own end.

  Manna did not visit in the neighborhood; she insisted upon it that shehad come only to be with her parents and her brother, and no one else.

  Sonnenkamp was alarmed at this determined and uncompliant bearing.