[Knopf to the Major and Fraeulein Milch.]
DEAR BROTHER AND SISTER,
Oh, how delightful it is that I, who have never been able to call anyone by these names, can now apply them to you!
In the red blank-book which you, dear sister, gave me, are many notesof travel, which I hope to be able, some time, to write out: now Icannot. Out with the best thing: I am betrothed!!! It occurs to me,while making these three exclamation marks, that their form has ameaning. They seem to me like the image of a comet. Do ask ProfessorEinsiedel if I have not made a great scientific discovery.
Do you remember, dear sister, my telling you of my meeting a girl withtwo boys in the forest, that time when I was coming to find our friendHerr Dournay? That girl is my betrothed. Her name is Rosalie, likeyours. She looks enough like you to be your sister. Yes, she is yoursister. She has brown eyes, like you.
"But who is she, then?" I hear you ask, laying aside your sewing andlooking at me with both eyes--I had almost said, with both hands.
Well, just let me tell you quietly.
Now, then, the maiden whom I met in the green-wood, my wood-maiden,is the daughter of a teacher, and--I beg you to hear thisrespectfully--she has passed her own examination as a teacher, and herbrothers are splendid fellows. I did not venture to approach the girl,although I recognized her at the first glance. I tried to ingratiatemyself with the brothers and said one day to the smaller one, who tookto me at once--"Tell your sister I met her in the forest, last May, onher way to chapel with you; she had on a brown dress."
"Why don't you tell her so yourself?" asked the little fellow.
I had no time to answer him; for just then my wood-maiden came along,and began reproving her brother for annoying the strange gentleman,when the little one shouted, "Why, it's the gentleman you imitate, whenyou show how he looked over his spectacles at you."
Now it was out. She had made fun of me? She too? I took off my glasses,and must confess, I should have liked to throw them into the sea, andmyself after them.
"What did she say?" you ask.
She spoke kindly and heartily: she said she had not ridiculed me--Oh, Idon't remember the rest--she gave me her hand, and----
I cannot write it; you shall hear all about it sometime, and, even if Idon't describe it, you know just the same: I, Emil Knopf, girls' tutorthrough so many generations, am engaged to an angel. That is ahackneyed phrase. Who knows whether angels could stand the teachers'examination?
I say with Herr Weidmann: I should just like to know how men can managenot to believe in God. Could only human understanding devise such astory as this? I had not the slightest idea where she came from, or whoshe was; and now she is put aboard the same ship for me, or you maysay, I am put on board, and now the war breaks out, and she has anuncle in America--It is a fine thing that there is an uncle in America.I think I have met my father-in-law. And do you know what is the bestthing?
To have a beloved one to live through a storm.
In the midst of the storm, and it was no ordinary one, I thought, Howwould it have been, if you had been obliged to sink into the sea alone,and had never known what it is to kiss a maiden's lips, and how itfeels to have a soft hand stroke your face, and even to be told, "Youare handsome,"--just think of it! I, Emil Knopf, famous as the leastdangerous of men, I am handsome! Oh, how blind were all mothers anddaughters in the blessed land of Uniformingen! Rosalie has a littlemirror, and when I look into it, I am really handsome--I am pleasedwith myself. But do not think I have gone mad; I am in full possessionof my mental powers. Herr Major, I pledge myself to explain to you thelaw of the centre of gravity and of the line of gravitation. I retainmy understanding intact.
One thing, however, is hard for me. I find that I am no poet. If Iwere, I should now, of necessity, compose such poems that the wholeworld would hear of nothing else. The sailors could not refrain fromsinging them, nor the soldiers, coming away from the parade ground, northe white-handed young lady at the piano, nor the journeyman by theroadside, when he takes off his oil-cloth hat and lays his head on hispack. Oh, I feel as if I must have something which should appease thehunger of the whole world, crying to all men, "Do you not see howbeautiful the world is?"
But now I beg for a wedding gift. You and Fraeulein Milch must have yourphotographs taken, for my sake. Oh, excuse my writing Fraeulein Milch--Imean the Majorin. I see that I have kept writing Fraeulein Milchthroughout the whole letter. Do not be vexed if I do not alter it.
In the New World I shall write again; but now not another word. I havewritten enough, my whole life long, and now I wish to do nothing butfrolic and kiss. Oh! that beautiful air from Don Giovanni occurs to me.
I will say but this one thing more: Manna behaves sweetly and kindly tomy Rosalie, and so do Adams and our three doctors and young Fassbender.Every one rejoices in our happiness, and my young brothers-in-law arejolly fellows. We are all practising English, but we mean to remaintrue Germans.
In sight of land.
In three days we shall be in New York.
I don't know what I may have to encounter there. Rosalie, says too thatI must write now: she is sitting beside me. But I really cannot writemy inmost thoughts, when any one is in the same room with me, andespecially when such dear eyes are looking at me. I will try, though:Rosalie thinks I have spoken so beautifully that it ought not to belost. She makes me vain, she thinks so much of everything I say.
You know that we had a frightful storm, and that we were formallybetrothed the" day after. It was only a little betrothal feast; but inspirit we invited the best people to it, and I summoned and addressedyou all; you first, dear Major--or, rather, pardon me, dear brother,and then you, dear sister. Your cap with the blue ribbon was a goodcentre for my thoughts.
I spoke as follows:--
Oh, you good people, I cannot. They all say, I spoke as if I hadreceived the gift of tongues. It may be so, but write it I cannot. Imust give my Rosalie a kiss. Major, give yours to the Majorin.
There, that's enough.
P. S. I have given Rosalie what I have written to read. She is takingnotes of a severe criticism for me. Yes, that is the way with teachersthat have passed their examination.
NEW YORK.
To put into a letter what one has experienced in New York in threedays, nay, in one, would be like holding fast in our hands thechangeful images in the clouds. I have given up writing in my diary;there is too much to say.
When we landed, the Uncle was waiting for us, but did not accept me asa nephew very willingly. I wish I had you here, dear Brother Major, toexplain to him who I really am, and how circumstanced. Now I must waittill he finds it out for himself; perhaps that will never happen. Idon't blame the Uncle, he had already picked out a husband for Rosalie.When I introduced Captain Dournay to him, he said:--
"Dournay--Dournay?" but nothing more. He must have had to do with oneof the family, some time or other.
The Uncle is very reserved; but great as his reticence is the opennessof every one in Dr. Fritz's house. Ah, dear brother and sister, now Iknow what Herr Weidmann's home must have been when he was young, onlyHerr Weidmann has more sons, and here there are daughters. And whatsplendid creatures they are! And such a wife! I can only say, when shelooks at you with her great eyes you are satisfied.
Oh, what glorious people we Germans are! Wherever we are transplanted,here in the air of freedom especially, we shoot up, and show, for thefirst time, what we really are.
I stood by when Roland and Lilian met; they must have some secret signof recognition, for their first word was "Pebble." Yes, in love affairssome secret understanding is always formed. They merely held each otherby the hand, and then went out together. Children live here in greatindependence.
Things go on beautifully at Dr. Fritz's, only nobody has any time.
I now understand the American saying, 'Time is money.' There is anextraordinary restlessness e
verywhere.
Here is war--war! Most people think it will soon be over, but Dr. Fritzsays that the obstinacy of the Southern States is great, and that theyare the better armed.
What is to become of me? you ask. Dr. Fritz thinks it strange that Istill wish, in earnest, to become a teacher of negroes, especially as Ido not yet speak the language with ease. He gives me hope, however, ofbeing able to carry out my plan, by-and-by. And my thoughts go evenfurther. A Normal School must be founded for negro youths; I shall keepthis in view. Meantime I am giving music lessons here, and it seems sostrange, when I come out of a house where we have been practising, tohear in the street the noisy roll of the drum.
Adams is in despair; the President will not yet permit any blacks toenlist. Adams has been told to work on the fortifications, but this hewill not do.
Young Fassbender will have nothing to do with the bird-trade whichClaus wanted to draw him into with his brother; he has undertaken tofurnish supplies for the army. I hope he will behave honorably, for,sad to say, I hear that a great deal of cheating and embezzlement iscarried on even in this Republic.
[Knopf to Fassbender.]
.... and tell me, did I ever meet at your house a teacher by the nameof Runzler? It is very important to me to know, this, for he was myfather-in-law.
I think he was at your house, and took snuff out of a large box.
Yes, it is so. I have just, asked my Rosalie. Her father used to takesnuff from a big beech-wood box. So my idea was correct. Memory is awhimsical thing. We ought, professionally, to take it intoconsideration far more than we do. I remember actually nothing but thebeech-wood snuff-box; but I beg you to tell me what we talked about atthat time. You recollect, or rather I remind you, that I was at thattime much saddened by the childish prank which Roland had played offupon me. I was so troubled, that I cannot remember any thing thatpassed. So write me all about it, and you will be doing me a greatfavor. You will soon receive a card inscribed thus:
EMIL KNOPF,
ROSALIE KNOPF, _nee_ RUNZLER,
Married.
I tell you the world is full of romances; the whole of life is but aromance.
The philosopher Schelling is right; poetry, art, government, religion,everything, had their origin in myths.
My good Roland has described to me his visit to Abraham Lincoln, and Ihave a good poem about it in my head. Unfortunately I have as yet onlythe title; but it is a beautiful one, for the piece is to be called:'In Abraham's bosom.' Think how much can be included under such aheading!
Your son is an extremely practical man, you will have much satisfactionin him.
If your under-master chooses to come here, I can procure him muchemployment in piano lessons. We have teachers enough in Germany toexport some.
[Roland to the Professorin.]
Pardon me if I no longer venture to call you mother. It seems to melike an injustice to my dead mother that I ever did so. I entreat youto have her grave carefully attended to, and to keep it strewn with herfavorite flowers, ericas and pinks.
Now that is off my mind, I will write of other things.
When I think of the green cottage, it always seems to me as if it werefloating on the sea, and must come hither to us.
Eric and Manna have, of course, described our voyage to you. While atsea, I learned tolerably well how the ship was managed, and I shouldhave liked best to enlist in the navy; but Eric would not hear of it.
It is probable that my father is fighting against us by sea, so it isbetter for me to be in the army.
I have seen Lilian again. I can say to you alone that we are engaged.Do not say that I am but seventeen, and she but fourteen years old.Events have made us older. Why, Franklin wanted to marry Miss Read,when he was only eighteen. We have vowed to belong to one another whenthe war is over.
Please let these lines be seen by no eyes but yours.
We have been at Washington; I have seen the Acropolis of the New World.I wished first to make a pilgrimage to Franklin's grave, but it wasbetter for me that I could first see one of his greatest successors,Abraham Lincoln.
I have seen, for the first time, a man of immortal glory. Face to facewith him, I have uttered the name which will be handed down toposterity. Those lips, whose words now resound throughout the world ofto-day, and shall be reechoed by future ages, have pronounced my name.I have looked on greatness, and how simple it is!
It was at Carlsbad, in the course of that memorable conversation,--I donot remember much of it, but this struck me,--that some one, theCabinetsrath, I think, said: "He who has walked through a portraitgallery of his ancestors, traverses the whole of life accompanied, asit were, by those eyes." Oh, from Lincoln's eyes the spirit of Socratesand Aristides, the spirit of Moses, of Washington, of Franklin, gazedupon me. And then I felt those to be the forefathers whom every one canearn for himself by honorable labor, by loyalty and self-sacrifice. Ihave the loftiest ancestry, and I will be worthy of it.
I enclose a photograph of Lincoln. He resembles Weidmann, not inappearance, but in the impression he makes on one. I told him aboutAdams, and how unhappy the negro was that he could not enter the army,but could only be employed on fortifications. Lincoln told me to trustmature discretion, and not to forget, in the exuberance of youth, thatwe must use all means in our power to bring about an understanding, inorder to be justified before our own conscience and before God, ifobliged to go further, saying that this was a fraternal strife, a war,not of annihilation, but of reconciliation.
I should like to enter a negro regiment, and told him so. He wassilent, and only laid his broad, powerful hand on my head. Mannaremains at Dr. Fritz's. Eric has probably already told you of hisentering the army with the rank of Major. I have a comrade, Hermann;Lilian's brother, who bears a strong resemblance to Rudolph Weidmann,and is of the same age, but much older in character. Here, one is mucholder at eighteen than with us. He talks very little; but what he says,is so sensible and decided! Ah, he has had a beautiful youth!--but Iwill say no more of that. I left Griffin behind, in Lilian's care. Weare in the cavalry. If we only had our Villa Eden horses here! Tell theMajor to write me word who has bought them. My heart aches if I thinkof Villa Eden.
Just now, having written that word, I was obliged to stop. Havepatience with me: you shall see that your great goodness to me has notbeen thrown away. You shall hear of manly behaviour on the part of Your ROLAND DOURNAY.
I have taken the name of Dournay here. You will understand why.
[Manna to the Professorin.]
.... I long to throw myself upon your breast, and there to say,"Mother!" and nothing more. The pen trembles in my hand, but I hear yousay, "Be strong." I will. I dare not think how it will be when we areagain with you. You are our home. We must wait, who knows how long? Whoknows with what sacrifices? I dare, not think that Eric may be takenfrom me--from us.
It seemed like a dream to me, when we trod the soil of thiscontinent--of my native land. I would gladly have floated on with theship forever. I am living in the house of Dr. Fritz. Eric and Rolandhave to-day gone to Washington to see Lincoln. I do not realize thatEric is not with me, and yet I must soon let him go, how differently!We will not be afraid, will we, mother? A wonderful destiny has broughtus together and preserved us together; it will remain true to us.
I should like to tell you much of the home where I dwell, and of allthe good, intellectually wide-awake people, and often, when I hear thewife and children talking and see them acting, I want to say, "That youget from Eric's mother, from my mother." There exists, over the wholeearth, a common fund of noble thought, as every one finds who bears aportion of it within himself. This is, to me, the meaning of the words,"Seek and ye shall find, knock and it shall be opened unto you." Youhave given me the power of seeking, of knocking, and I find that it isopened unto me. Oh,
mother! Why must it be by means of such tremendousevents, poised so narrowly between life and death, that the greatnessand goodness, the readiness for martyrdom of the human heart, must bedeveloped? Why not in peace, in love, in quiet cares?
That will be the millennium, you have often said, when the bestqualities will no longer unfold in struggle, but in beauty andpeacefulness. You, my mother, are a messenger and a witness from theparadise-world beyond the strife. Rejoice, as we rejoice, that you arethis messenger, this witness. I will become like you, I am and will beyour daughter, and will grow ever more truly so.
It is well that I was interrupted in this. Lilian has a fresh voice,and our friend Knopf's betrothed sings beautifully. We have practisedpieces in which I accompany Lilian's singing on the harp. Oh, if wecould send some of those tones over the sea! In the midst of the uproarof life around us, here we sit and sing by the hour together. Now Iunderstand anew that saying, that art is a redeemer;--that saying offather's.
Why is the word father so harrowing to my soul? How happy it was for mymother to be snatched away as she was! When I fall into this train ofthought, I always feel as if entering a desert, far, far away; nowhereanything cheering to the eye or refreshing to the soul. We must bearit.
I see with sorrow that I am writing confusedly; but you know andbelieve me, when I say that I am really calm, and, above all, you areto know that I never burden our Eric with these heavy thoughts. It isless from intention than--no, as soon as he comes, all dread and griefvanish; everything is light, sunshine, day.
Three days later.
Eric has returned with Roland from Washington. They have much to tell,and Roland is in a state of enthusiasm which you can easily picture toyourself.
Have I already told you that our friend Knopf has found a charminglittle wife? She is full of intelligence, modesty, and energy. She,too, has had religious conflicts to undergo, as I have, not so severe;but then she has had a hard fight with herself. Lilian, too, young asshe is, is far riper than her years, on account of her zeal for makingconverts.
She was sent to Germany, and our friend Knopf there accomplished a goodwork. Lillian has become a sister to me, and we talk much of how sheshall go with us to the Rhine. She thinks, however, that Eric and Iwill remain here; but that will never be. Our home is there. You areour home. I kiss your eyes, cheeks, mouth, hands. Ah, let me kiss youonce more, once more! You are my--ah! you do not know at all what youare; but you know that I am Your daughter, MANNA DOURNAY.
P.S. Dear Aunt Claudine, send me a great deal more good music, somesoprano songs with harp accompaniment, and send them soon. At everytone I will think of you, and my naughty little finger, which you tookso much trouble to train, is now perfectly obedient.
[Eric to Weidmann.]
When I stood before Abraham Lincoln, I thought of you, my reveredfriend. And because I have known, in my short life, what purely noblemen breathe the same air with me, I was unembarrassed and at my ease.My lot is an exalted one: I can look in the faces of the best men of myage. And if wiseacres ever again tell me, condescendingly, that I am anidealist, I can reply to them, "I must be one, for I have met some ofthe noblest of men on my life-road; I not only believe in the elevationof pure humanity--I know it."
I will only give one incident of our interview.
We heard the opinion expressed, among those who surrounded Lincoln,that the negroes ought not to be set free, because they would do nowork unless forced.
Roland said to me in a low voice:--
"Do the slaveholders work without being forced?"
Lincoln noticed that the boy was saying something to me, and encouragedhim to speak without reserve. Roland repeated his question quietly butearnestly. You, who have helped me to awaken this young spirit, willsympathize in my pleasure.
And now I will tell you about your nephew.
Oh, our blessed German life! In old times travellers took with theminto foreign countries the images of their saints. We Germans carry ourpoets, our philosophers and musicians over the face of the whole globe;and your nephew's pleasant, comfortable, free home is the abode of trueculture. Here, in the midst of the tumult of political and privatelife, reign immortal spirits, who bring a devotion, a serenity, a holyquiet, of a peculiar sort.
Your nephew has done well in always telling me not to believe, withmost people here, that this war will be over in a few months. I nowthink not of the end, but only of the next day.
And, in the midst of this growth and change of historic movement, Ifeel that the individual is like the single cell in a tree, or elsethat we are like boys on the school-bench. We do not know the entireeducational plan. We do not know the end to which all this leads. Wemust learn our lessons; and cell is built upon cell, knowledge is addedto knowledge, until--who knows the end?
In the first great struggle, in the New World's war of independence,there were Germans sold by German princes, to fight for the Englishagainst the Americans, and but few of our countrymen, towering up amongthem like Steuben and Kalb, did battle for the Republic. At that periodthe French--Lafayette's name rings out clear among them--stood foremostamong the New World's champions of freedom. To-day the Union armycontains thousands of Germans, witnesses who have emigrated or beenexiled. Why are there no Frenchmen? I know the reason, and so do you.
I see the poet of the future draw near. The great drama of our epoch,the strife between Caesarism and self-government, is presented to hisgaze in dimensions such as no past age could know; he will compress thestruggle within narrow limits.
The Republic of the United States has not yet existed a century. Oh,how different is the aspect of things here from what we had pictured toourselves! I have found many who doubt the continuance of the Union;cultivated clergymen even told me that there was certainly more powerof endurance in the monarchical form of government. That is the feelingof dejection and despair: but it is, I believe, only to be met with insingle instances.
How often I am obliged to hear myself called a philosophical idealist!And they tell me I shall soon be converted. Your nephew, whosecomprehensive glance sees all sides of a subject, has solved thisenigma for me. The people here have lived so long for their own easealone, feeling their claims of the State only occasionally, as voters.They must now pass through the school of military discipline, ofstaking their lives for the life of the nation--only as an education,of course, to be free again afterwards.
The so-called slavery question is not so nearly decided, by a greatdeal, as we supposed.
Your nephew thinks the complete abolition of slavery will become anecessary war measure of vital importance to the continued existence ofthe nation; that patriotism must be wedded to humanity--that the pureideal must give place to utilitarianism and necessity--that the logicof events will bring about a decision not to be effected by the logicof thought. There is still a strong party here in the North who do notwish to proceed to the one extreme measure, as they call the absoluteabolition of slavery; but hope to subdue the South by war instead.
We hope they will not succeed. The words "necessity of State," so oftenmisused by tyrants, will now, we trust lead to Liberty.
How much one is obliged to hear against the negroes in this country!
That the four million slaves represent twenty hundred million dollars,is, of course, the point first mentioned; then that the blacks havemany vices, as though a perfect model of virtue were to be expectedfrom a down-trodden race. Any nation, so long held in bondage,tortured, martyred, condemned to ignorance, would have been just whatthey are. Moreover, tyranny has, in all ages, proclaimed the oppressedto be low beings, ignoring, of course, the fact that if they have somebase tendencies, it is the oppression that has prepared the soil andimplanted them.
I have made the acquaintance here of a distinguished negro, whoseoration on the present situation and the future of his race I hadheard. There was a touch of Demosthen
es in it. He was a slavetwenty-two years, and has acquired a complete scientific education.
Sometimes there is in his voice a quivering tone of lament, as of onedrooping under a weight of sorrow, and I admire him for suppressing anavengeful anger. If a single man can do much for his race, this man, orone like him, might become an historic character.
But the heroic age is past, entirely and forever; now we must depend oncommunity of action.
We are transported into the midst of an historical or logical unfoldingof events. The attempts at peaceful reconciliation have been of noavail. In spite of the cry "No coercion!" an army had to be raised, andnow the cry is, "No confiscation of property!" That means, no abolitionof slavery, and yet this must be the second result, since it could notbe the first.
The moral debt, neither noted down nor paid interest on, nor cancelledon change, is now becoming a great national debt of the Union, whichthe country will be obliged to liquidate with money and blood.
[Manna to the Mother.]
.... What a small matter was that night-riot made by men with blackenedfaces! I have lived through a pro-slavery riot. Doctor Fritz says itarose from the bitter opposition to the conscription. Many blacks weremurdered, our friend Knopf's school was laid in ruins, and the negroorphan asylum burned to the ground, the poor black children rollingcrying on the pavement. We have much to do. The world has much to makeamends for.
[Eric to the Banker.]
.... I perfectly understand your sorrow over the fact that there aresome Jews among the Secessionists. General Twiggs, commanding in Texas,who went over to the rebels with his army, fortress, and munitions ofwar, was a Jew.
And that speculators on change also lend assistance to the defenders ofslavery! Why should they less than the professedly pious English?
Why do you require all the Jews, collectively and individually, tostand on the side of moral principle? They have the right of equality,even in ill-doing. They are, if one may be permitted to say so, equallyjustified in crime with other men. It must be shown, it is now beingshown, that no religion has the monopoly of morality.
You complain that the passion for enjoyment has invaded even yourinnermost circle of friends.
That belongs under the heading above indicated. The more I think overyour letter, the more surely I arrive at this conclusion; the Jews, solong and so cruelly excluded from participation in national affairs,and condemned to a sad cosmopolitism, will now, in their days ofliberation, behave like natives of the different communities in whichit is their lot to be, and will, above all, remain patriotic.
Moreover, I can assure you that many Jews are here among us, fightingwith valor and self-sacrifice.
The young physician equipped by you is exceedingly able.
The money which you sent over is being conscientiously expended.
I hope yet to sing with your daughter-in-law, to whom please present mykind regards.
My wife joins me in cordial remembrances of you.
[The Professorin to Eric and Manna.]
All is well. Would that I, could send you some of the spring fragranceand beauty which surround us here. No tree bears blossoms as countlessas the blessings which go out from my heart to you. Here we sit inpeace, and you are out there in the battle. We can do nothing for you,only I say to you, my son, and to you, my daughter: whatever may come,abide quietly in the assurance, that having followed the leadings ofthe spirit, we must silently recognize and bear our part. I have beenin the next village; it must be like a recent settlement in America.
It is a beautiful and great thing to be able to help so many humanbeings to a cheerful and active existence.
My son, why do you not write whether you have inquired for UncleAlphonso? Do not delay doing so. If he is yet living, tell him that Ihave never judged him unkindly, though he has been so hard upon us; andtell him that your father always preserved a brotherly feeling for him.But ah, I do not know whether he is still alive. Do not delay to getsome positive information.
Our friend Einsiedel is busy in arranging your father's papers.
Our good Major wants to have a room built in the hot-house, and, nextwinter, live there all day long among the plants, breathing in theirfragrance; then, he asserts, he should live to be a hundred years old.
[Claudine to Manna.]
If you feel overwhelmed by the hard experiences which you must bear, donot forget to keep up your study of astronomy; it takes us out of allour small troubles.
You will have to make new applications of your astronomical knowledgeto new conditions in America.
[Lina to Manna.]
To-morrow I give my first large coffee-party; look upon me withrespect. I spread fine damask table-cloths, and have my own gilt-edgedcups. Ah, why can you not be here? People say that my voice is muchstronger now that I am a mother. O Manna, the most beautiful song isthat which one sings to her child. I hope it won't be long before youknow it.
Pranken and his wife have come back, but they are not to remain withus. He is to be ambassador somewhere on the Lower Danube, near Turkey;I don't know the name of the country.
I have thought of a beautiful plan for you. When you come home, youmust establish a special singing-club of all the matrons and maidensin the neighborhood, and we'll sing in your garden, and in thebeautiful music-room, and in the pretty boats on the river, and on theflat-roofs, and everywhere. Ah, that will be life! If to-morrow wereonly here!
[Einsiedel to Eric.]
Elevating thoughts are in these papers which your father left behindhim. It is much to be regretted that one of them has not been given tothe world before this. He foresaw this war in America quite clearly.Connected and logical thought is a kind of prophecy. I shall publishthe sheets with my positive assurance that they were written by a noblerecluse many years before the events foretold.
[Weidmann to Eric.]
We are in the midst of all sorts of work. You wanderers took much ofour peace away with you, but now all is in its habitual order again.
Thank you, dear Dournay, for your letter. My nephew always sends me thenewspapers regularly. Do not allow yourself to be distracted bythoughts of Europe, and by too great a variety of interests; you arestationed at a post where you must keep only the next duty before youreyes. Forgive me for permitting myself to admonish you thus. It washigh time that this disgrace should be wiped out from the consciousnessof our age, for it had begun to appear that long habit was weakeningthe keen and bitter sense of its sin and shame.
I am finding surprising confirmation of this opinion. Herr Sonnenkampcorrupted our district more than he knew; people now speak well of him."Ah, only a slave-trader!" "Nothing worse!" may be heard on all sides.
There is always something commanding in heroism; the bold scoundrel ismore attractive than the unobtrusively virtuous man. Not only thefrivolous, but quite sober-minded men think that the Prince wasunnecessarily scrupulous in refusing to ennoble Herr Sonnenkamp.
A plant has become common in Europe which is called the water-pest: youmay have read of it; it came from Canada, probably attached to somevessel, and has almost choked the Thames with its roots and entangledstems; it has crept far into the continent, and has now reached us, butwe will conquer it. Such a water-pest spreads too in spiritual matters.
[Doctor Richard to Eric.]
All the others have no doubt written most edifying and sentimentalletters; I have something better for you. First, let me tell you torejoice that you have something to do, and have done with speculating.
And now for a fine story:--
Otto von Pranken--for whom I always had a sympathy, like all the restof the profane world; he is no paragon of virtue, but there's a gooddeal in him--has beaten the black-coats in shrewdness; he got himselfrecommended to Rome by them and there he has played a smart trick. Heentered the Papal army wit
h the rank of Major, but got into somedifficulty, on purpose, as I believe. He wrote a letter full ofdissatisfaction over the organization of the army, and this gave him anexcuse for resigning, and marrying the young widow, the daughter ofHerr von Endlich. When you come home you will have some new neighbors.They say, though, that Pranken is to enter on a diplomatic career, andI think he has talent for it.
Have you seen or heard nothing of Frau Bella?
[The Majorin Grassler late Fraeulein Milch, to Knopf.]
You can fancy how your letter rejoiced us. My good husband was cheeredup by it into better spirits than he has had for a long time. I amsorry to say that since you all went off, he has been full of trouble.For months he has not been able to get rid of the thought why he wasnot younger, so that he could have gone with you. And then, don't laughat us, we have a real family trial, for our Laadi has grown blind, andno physician can help her. People laughed at us for tending the dog socarefully: they want us to have her shot, but that we can't do, and sowe take care of poor Laadi. My husband sits for hours by her, talkingto her, and even takes her out for a little walk every day. Why mustthe dog grow blind? Ah, but I'm asking stupid questions; one has to becareful not to grow sentimental; Mother Nature is a hard mother.
I knew the father of your Rosalie; he was once at our house with theschool-master Fassbender.
[Eric to Weidmann.]
Adams was ordered to work in the trenches, and a great number ofnegroes with him, but he would not take the pick in his hand; thenRoland did what I once dissuaded him from doing, when he wanted tolabor among the workmen at the castle. I think I told you about it. Nowhe joined the negroes and used his pick with them, and when I went tohim once, as he wiped the perspiration from his forehead, I saw a lightin the youth's eye, which said that the crown of human honor rests onthe brow from which runs the sweat of toil.
Beginning this letter to you composes me, in the midst of the constantexcitement of camp-life.
There is much discontent in the army; men are blaming Lincoln formaintaining a vacillating, uncertain policy, or, to say the least, forhis extreme slowness.
I must leave it to Dr. Fritz, or rather to time, to prove the truth ofhis words when he says, Lincoln is not a genius, an individual toweringabove the mass; he is an average man, the exact exponent of the spiritof the people at its present stage of progress. He is not remarkablydistinguished, but a man of just the right stamp.
Perhaps that is true, and it is much to say. This is not greatness inthe old sense of the word, and we may have entered upon an age whichhas outgrown the heroic, and those representatives of heroism aroundwhom all others seemed grouped as minor figures.
Opposed to the Monarchic, the Aristocratic, and the Monotheistic, standthe Republican, the Democratic, and the Pantheistic: they are onlythree different names for three unfoldings of the same principle.
[Roland to the Professorin.]
My first lines from camp shall be to you, dear Frau Professorin. Ithank you for the motto which you once gave me; I feel as if I were notthe same person to whom all that happened. I promise you, and this is anew oath of allegiance, to be true to your motto.
Ah, why do you not know Lilian? she deserves that you should know her.
I have told her a great deal about you; she thinks she should stand inawe of any one so wise and learned, but I tell her she need not.
And oh, Dr. Fritz is such a noble man. He told me that he was a pupilof your husband, and it must make you happy that your husband's spiritlives on in such a man, here in the New World.
I must try not to think too much of you and of the past: I ought now togive my thoughts only to what we have before us; and I am tired out. Ihave had a very fatiguing drill.
Eric is held in great respect here. All is still; in camp it is saidthat to-morrow we shall come under fire for the first time.
Morning.
The battle is beginning; I hope to do my duty.
Evening.
I have been promoted on the field.
[Eric to Weidmann.]
In Camp.
We have fought a battle; we have been defeated. Roland hasdistinguished himself, and been promoted. I have to use all myinfluence to restrain his daring.
The coolness and deliberation of your grand-nephew Hermann are a greathelp to me.
The hardest thing in this war is, that thousands must necessarily besacrificed in order to teach the officers the art of war. There is adeficiency of experienced and tried leaders; and it is no small thingthat the army, wholly without any confidence in the military skill ofits generals, maintains itself so bravely. They must learn how to fightby fighting; and in this particular the Southern States have theadvantage.
I have very great doubts whether our opponents fight with the hope oftriumph; I mean, whether they honestly believe, that if they conquer,their principle can be permanently established.
Their very bitterness, which exceeds all bounds of a common humanity,the very vindictiveness with which they carry on the contest, shows methat they believe in a victory by war, but not by peace. And here thequestion presents itself to me: Why must an acknowledged idealprinciple always and forever be attained through blood?
This is the great enigma of history. But it is the same as it is in asmaller sphere and in individual life; humanity is rational, but itspredominating characteristic is passion, impulsive affection, whichurges forward and renovates the life of humanity as it does that of theindividual. I am reminded of an expression of yours, that nothing is soconducive to the growth of vegetation as a thunder-storm. It is perhapsthe same in the history of man and of humanity. Schiller's dream, thatthe highest form of poetry would be the peaceful idyl of an equilibriumof opposite forces without any great sacrifice, is but a dream. It isnot found in the sphere of pure thought or poesy, because it is nowherefound in actual life.
As Goethe said, this America has no middle ages to conquer, but he wasmistaken in saying that it had no basaltic strata, for it is now justcoming out of its own peculiar condition of feudalism. Its history,like that of a dramatic poem, is condensed into a briefer period oftime, and brought more directly under our view.
This America has been engaged in no war for dynasty or religion, and itmust now fight for an idea. Independence was the first great question,and that may be also an egoistic question. The emancipation of othersis the second and purely ideal one; and to be taken entirely out of thestrife for wealth and material goods where external well-being is thesole interest, the final and supreme concern, and to be placed in aperiod of history where life must be imperilled for an idea, this givesideal power. America now for the first time brings her new element, hersacrificial gift, into the Pantheon of humanity. Until now, it might besaid that the historical greatness of America bore no comparison withits natural greatness.
America has had, compressed into a single epoch of existence, itsmigration of the nations, its crusades, and its thirty years' war; andthere is something of the rapidity and the instantaneousness of theelectric telegraph in its history.
Here I am, sitting in camp, and writing like a schoolmaster. But it hasdone me good. I feel collected, refreshed, and strengthened whileturning my thoughts to you.
[Roland to the Professorin.]
We have been beaten! Mother, we have been beaten! Eric consoles me andconsoles us all; he says that it is good for us, we must learn to standthe brunt. Well, I will learn.
(Eric's Postscript.) Mother! I found these lines which Roland leftbehind, and I send them to you. Roland is missing, and has eitherfallen or been taken prisoner; he has borne himself bravely, and hadbeen promoted to be an officer. O my Roland!
[Eric to Weidmann.]
In Camp.
The great, the necessary step has been taken; the negroes have beencalled to serve in the army, and we have enlisted in a negroregiment,--Roland, Hermann, and I. Now the contest is for the firsttime complete. The negroes show themselves willing and docile, and arealways merry. This discipline of the army is an excellent preparatoryschool for life.
We have learned from one of our spies that a man who calls himselfBanfield, but who from the description I think is Sonnenkamp, is in thearmy in front of us, and with him there is a woman in man's dress, agreat beauty, who receives the homage of all. I had hoped that he wouldenter the Navy; it is horrible to me that he and his son are nowfighting in hostile ranks, so directly face to face with each other. Itrust that Roland will hear nothing of it.
But it is very pleasant to see the beautiful comradeship of Roland andyour grand-nephew, Hermann; they are inseparable.
[Roland to the Professorin.]
The final step has been taken. Eric, Hermann, and I have enlisted in ablack regiment. This, is just what I wanted. I may be allowed to say itto you, these bondmen now struggling for a manhood which would not havebeen accorded to them in peace, they love me. I think of Parker's word.Oh, what a day that was when I heard his name from you for the firsttime, there going out of church, and then----
Forward! this is now our watchword; there must be no looking back now.One thing more. I have found a friend, and a better one you could nothave wished for me out of your own full loving heart; and my Hermann isLilian's brother. I dare not dwell upon the thought that he is fightingfrom his own voluntary choice, and I--No, I, too, stake all freely.
[Eric to Weidmann.]
In Camp.
O my friend! Roland is missing. We have gained a victory. I havesearched the battle-field with our surgeon, Adams, and Hermann. O whata sight! We did not find Roland. Our hope is that he has been takenprisoner.
What a hope!
I am obliged to console myself while consoling Hermann. The youth feelsto the very depth of his true soul sorrow for the lost one, but he isfar from exhibiting any weakness; the good training of a freeCommonwealth, and of the German parental home, has now its effect.Hermann is now my tent companion; he is entirely different from Roland.Here in America every one has room for development, and all thebranches live and spread forth on the tree; and besides, Hermann has nosorrowful conflict with fate in his soul, such as my poor Roland had.
I beg you, if any news comes from Sonnenkamp addressed to me, that youwould write to him that his son is a prisoner.
I am tired to death. The images of the wounded, the dead, the trampledunder foot, will never fade from my memory.
I don't know when I shall write you again, but I entreat you to letSonnenkamp know about Roland immediately; perhaps you could insert itin some English newspaper which circulates in the Southern States.
Confer with Professor Einsiedel about everything, but I beg you not tosay anything about it to my mother.
[Lilian to the Professorin.]
"Write at once to Eric's mother," says Roland to me.
So you see, honored lady, that I have found him.
The terrible tidings reached us that Roland had either been killed ortaken prisoner, and I could no longer endure it. I went down into theenemy's country. Oh, how much I have gone through! I have been on thebattle-field, and looked into the faces of hundreds of the mangled andthe dead. I have been in hospitals, and heard the moans and the groansof the sick and the wounded, but nowhere Roland, nowhere any trace ofhim.
I still travelled onward, and they had compassion for me, thoseterrible people; they pitied the lonely maiden who was seeking herbeloved.
I found him at last--no, not I. Griffin found him, for the faithfulanimal was with me. We found him in a barn. He is wounded. Oh, helooked so emaciated, so changed, that I scarcely knew him! But now allis well.
Roland relates that a woman in man's clothing had him taken into thebarn, and he asserts that it was the Countess Bella. I saw heronce when I was at Mattenheim, I have seen her now. I think it wasshe--rushing past on horseback, and dressed like a man. She looked atme, and must have recognized me.
On, mother! it is very wonderful. Perhaps Roland has told you that hegave me a pebble, and I gave one to him, when we saw each other atMattenheim. This pebble he kept and wore over his heart, and the pebblesaved his life.
I have sent an account of everything to New York, but I do not knowwhether the letter will get there. Letters will reach Europe, and I begyou to forward the tidings to my father and to Eric. Say, besides, thatRoland is wholly out of danger; a German physician in the army heregives me this assurance.
Send the news also to Mattenheim, to uncle and aunt and all therelatives.
Roland has just waked, having had a good sleep.
He wants me to request you to take the deaf mute to the Villa, and givehim something to do in the garden; he talks a great deal about him.
[Eric to Weidmann.]
Now the worst is over! I don't know how to put it into words.
It was a hot day, and the battle was a severely contested one on bothsides. We have gained the victory, and our loss is great. Adams came tome; he was bleeding, and foaming at the mouth. I wanted to bind up hiswounds, but he pushed me away, crying,--
"Come! come! I did not kill him, he gave the masonic sign--I dared notkill him--he's lying outside there."
"Who?"
"The man--the man."
I had great difficulty in getting him to speak the name. It wasSonnenkamp.
I took a physician with me, and we hurried past the wounded calling forhelp.
We came to a hill; there he lay. I could hardly get my breath as Istood there before him, but at last I cried,--
"Father!"
"Father!" screamed he. "Away! leave me!"
He stared at me with glassy eyes. He tore up the grass, and digging outthe earth, he buried his face in the fresh mould, trying to inhale thatpeculiar odor which had always refreshed him; but he shook his head,appearing unable to perceive the earthy smell.
He now turned round and stared at me.
The physician made preparations to dress his wounds, from several ofwhich the blood was flowing. He thrust the physician away withviolence.
"I will not be bound! Off with the whole of you!"
I kneeled down, and said that he had not been fighting against his son;that Roland had, been missing for three months, and had evidently beentaken prisoner.
"A prisoner! woe! woe! woe!" he shrieked. "A prisoner! Oh, she is toblame--she! she! I did not want to! I had to--she wanted to ride onhorseback--she sits splendidly--to play the amazon."
He burst into a scornful laugh. "On the sea--on the ocean--" continuedhe, "there I wanted to be--I had to follow--I saw her fall--she wasbeautiful even in death--an enchantress--an enchantress!"
The physician beckoned to me; I knew what he meant. I asked him if hedesired anything.
He stared at me.
"Yonder--give me that--give!"
He pointed to a beautiful heath-plant not far off. Adams had observedour look and the words. He tore up a whole bunch of ericas, and gavethem into the hand of the dying man, who gazed at him with eyes almoststarting out of his head. Then a smile came over his face; drawinghimself up with a mighty energy, he fell back uttering one terribleshriek, and his limbs were straightened in death. He died with theheath-plants in his clenched hand.
Oh, how much I have gone through, how much I have been forced tosuffer! Nothing harder can ever befall me.
As we buried him in the earth, and covered him over with heaths, I weptover a man whose vast powers had led him astray. What would have beenhis fate, if----
Here I was interrupted in the midst of my writing. Since those lineswere penned, I have buried another corpse.
I was called to Adams, who had neglected having his wounds at
tended to,and now it was too late. He asked after me. I stood at his bed-side,and with a last exertion of strength, he asked me;--
"Herr Major, can any one steal a thing like that?"
"What do you mean?"
"Can a man like that belong to our order, and have the sign?"
"You see that he can."
"What do the brethren have swords for then? Why did I not--" cried he,gnashing his teeth.
He clenched his fists, raised himself up, and then sank back. Hissavage nature, which had been only repressed and held in constraint,broke out in the last death-struggle.
Oh, I can write nothing more. I have been deceived in myself. Ibelieved myself fortified against everything, but I am not. I beg you,dear Herr Weidmann, to inform my mother of the death of Manna's andRoland's father.
If I could only go to sleep, if I could only rest!
[Postscript in Manna's hand-writing.]
This letter, written thus far, was found in my Eric's pocket when hewas drawn from under his horse's hoofs. In his excited, and, in fact,delirious state, he had mounted his horse, thinking he was going intobattle. He was thrown. I send the letter. He does not yet recognize anyone, and is still delirious, but the physician gives me some hope.
I shall keep the letter until I can give some more favorable tidings.
Three days later.
My husband says that he finds invigoration in thinking of you. I havealso to-day written to the Mother.
[Manna to the Professorin.]
Mother, he is saved! All anxiety has fled. He is saved! He was downwith a fever days and nights, and did not recognize me; he knew mydogs, Rose and Thistle, but not me. But once he exclaimed:--
"Oh, the harp-tones!"
I telegraphed at once to New York for my harp to be sent to me; thetelegraphist told me of a woman in the place who had a harp; she livedalone, and her lot had been a hard one, as she had learned after hermarriage that her husband had another wife living. I went to see thewoman, and this woman is the mother of my Heimchen. The Superior hadwritten to her of the love of her child for me, and I had to relatemany things to the mother. And now--yes, we are always living in themidst of wonders! Heimchen gave to me the harp from which the tones areto come that will give my husband rest.
I stationed myself in the next room, and with the physician's consent,I played upon the harp. Eric went to sleep, and when he waked, said:--
"Why does not Manna come?"
The physician forbade my entering the room, as it was important heshould receive no violent shock. And so I could see him only when hiseyes were closed, until at last the surgeon gave his permission.
In the wanderings of fever he always saw me as I was in the conventwhen I had on the wings, and he spoke French and laughed at sisterSeraphine. The shock of my father's death had affected Eric so deeply,that, as the physician told me, he had been for a long time without anhour's sleep.
Sedatives were given to Eric, but they seemed to be attended with somerisk, and had to be discontinued. Then there was another battle. Allbesought him to keep quiet, as he had already distinguished himself sohighly; but he mounted his horse and rode off. The horse stumbled andthrew him headlong, and he was taken up for dead and carried into thehospital. I received the news and hastened hither. Everything is goingon well now, but he is still very weak.
But he begged me, and it is just like him, to confer the pleasure uponthe rest of the wounded, so I have to play the harp for hours together.It is an unspeakable refreshment to the patients, and the surgeonsassert that the wounds heal more rapidly, on account of the cheerfulstate of mind thereby induced. And when I come back to Eric, and thesurgeon tells him how beneficial the music is to the sick, hiscountenance lights up. He speaks but little; he holds my hand silently,and only says that he has, during his life, talked too much. But,mother, you may feel easy.
Eric wants to be allowed to write a word to you.
(In a trembling hand was written as follows:)
Thy living, loving, beloved son Eric.
(Then in Manna's hand-writing:)
Don't be alarmed at these unsteady strokes. The physician says that alldanger is over, and nothing is needed but absolute rest.
Oh, mother! How can I adequately thank the Eternal Spirit that my Ericlives; that I am not a widow, and that a life is not made fatherlessfrom its very birth? Be easy; I remain strong, and I have a threefoldduty in living.
[Manna to Professor Einsiedel.]
I was called in the hospital to a prisoner from the Southern army,severely wounded, who had heard my harp-playing. He asked about me, andwas told that I was a German. The man related to me that he had anuncle in Germany, who had been a book-keeper in a large bankingestablishment. One evening when his uncle was at the theatre, he robbedhim and fled. I told him that I had become acquainted with such a manthrough you at Carlsbad, that is to say, I had seen him; I gave as gooda description of him as I could. The wounded man asserted that it washis uncle, and begged me to write to him that he repented of what hehad done. He had always hoped that he should become wealthy some day,so as to return and make full restitution; this could not be realizednow, as he must die poor; but he desired that his uncle should know ofhis repentance.
You will impart all this to the man.
[Eric to his mother.]
In the midst of the wanderings of my fever, I kept saying to myself:Thou hast promised thy mother to return home safe and sound. Thou mustnot be ill, must not die. Thou must keep thy word. And this thought wasever by me, sometimes making me quiet, sometimes restless. I wasforever thinking that I could certainly do something to force nature toremove the shadows, the heaviness, the dullness which weighed me down.There were two souls in me. And once I very plainly heard you saying tome: Keep perfectly quiet; you are undermining your life with yourperpetual thinking; for once let thinking alone. And then I wasstanding on the stage at the music festival to sing, but I could notbring out a solitary note. I have gone through a great deal ofsuffering, but I am now in perfectly good spirits.
[Doctor Fritz to Weidmann.]
A strange riddle has been solved by means of Eric's being wounded, anaccount of which was given in the newspapers in connection with thevictory. A small, delicate-looking old man came to me, who addressed mein German, but with difficulty, showing that he had probably not madeuse of the language for many years. He asked me if I was acquaintedwith a Major Dournay. I said yes, and after a great deal of trouble, Isucceeded in finding out that this was Eric's uncle, a man of verygreat wealth. He wanted to know all about the family, and especiallywhether, his sister Claudine was yet living. Luckily, Knopf could tellhim all the particulars.
[Eric to his mother.]
Mother! My uncle has been found! Through my fall from the horse, butyet more through Manna's playing on the harp, that was spoken of in thenewspapers as some marvellous tale, my uncle came to see Dr. Fritz. Myuncle visited me while I was very ill, and I thought that I had seen myfather. They tell me that I became so excited that my life was againendangered, and they had to withhold the news until I had whollyrecovered. I showed your letter to my uncle, and the old man, who hasheard nothing from Europe for ten years, wept bitterly. He will go backto Europe with us.
[Knopf to Fassbender.]
The classic age had great, noble, heroic forms, but it had no uncle inAmerica. And how did the world before Columbus' day get on without anyuncles in America? I think that our good Lord, as he rested on theseventh day, dreamed, in his mid-day sleep, of the uncle in America,meditated, and created him.
My friend, Major Dournay, has now found his uncle with a fortune; Idon't know how much it is, but a large one, and all honorably earned.Now he is himself put in a position to solve the riddle of what shouldbe done with so much money. He will not build my music hall, but hewill do something el
se that's great.
[Doctor Fritz to Weidmann.]
Two children are born to us. Manna has a son, and Frau Knopf adaughter. I was with Knopf when his daughter was born, and when he sawher face the first time, he exclaimed aloud:--
"Pure Caucasian race!"
Then he acknowledged to me, that in spite of his liking for thenegroes, he had always feared that his Rosalie's child would be black,because she had black children so constantly around her, since she hadbeen their teacher with him. And now he is delighted that his daughter,who is to be named Manna Erica, is a pure Caucasian, and he merrilyextols the late which has decreed that the first-born of the girls'teacher shall be a girl.
Manna's child has received the name of Benjamin Alphonso. UncleAlphonso is god-father; he has, in his will, divided his propertyequally between his sister Claudine and his brother's son, and alreadytransferred one-half of it. He means to go to Europe with his nephew,but I do not think the good little man will live long. I have alreadytold you that my daughter Lilian sought out our young Roland in theenemy's country, and rescued him. Roland is still very weak, but hisyouthful vigor will restore him.
The great war is drawing to a close, and with the rejoicings overvictory we shall celebrate Roland's and Lilian's wedding. They are toremain here with us.
Roland has borne himself bravely. We are to use the greater part of hisproperty to buy land for the negroes, furnish them with all necessarysupplies, and establish schools for them.
[Eric to his mother.]
Mother! Grandmother! all is well. Ah, what more is there to say? Afterall our suffering we are happy. And, mother, I am coming, coming homewith my wife and child, and Uncle Alphonso. The waves will bear us up,the ship will carry us, the land will stand firm, and, mother, I shallhold you in my arms again, and lay my child in your arms; we shall liveand work.
[Eric to Weidmann.]
We have entered Richmond with our black regiment.
The noblest experience has been mine: I have been allowed to take partin the greatest struggle of our country.
Slavery is no more.
Now let the gentlemen in gowns and bands come, and show us heretics adeed which shall bear such mighty consequences as this.
Later.
Read this! A murder, an assassination! Why was it not to be? Why cannothing be carried out purely to perfection? Lincoln assassinated!
Does it not often seem as if a malicious demon ruled the world?
This deed is a standing proof of how far the supporters of anaristocracy, the defenders of a privileged class, the deniers of humanrights, have sunk into barbarism. In future days such wickedness willnot be believed; but now it stands plainly before us as assassination,and not the deed of a single individual; it is the work of a sworn bandof conspirators.
The fanaticism of the Southern States had burst forth in war, now ithas its seal of blood.
[Knopf to Weidmann.]
Our friend Dournay's uncle is dead; he was ill, and the news of theassassination of President Lincoln killed him.
Eric, Manna, and their child are going home.
[Eric to Professor Einsiedel.]
What I am now interested in arranging is not the filling out of my ownlife, the new calling into which I have entered. It is the tormentattendant on the self-renovation of the modern mind, that doubts andquestions immediately set themselves in opposition to action.
I want to establish a refuge for laborers in the intellectual field,but the question comes up to me:--
Is not this a direct contradiction to the spirit of this modern age?
Is not the desire for solitude a necessary part of that free individuallife which is our noblest characteristic?
Could I imagine a Lessing, in his old age, in this house of refugewhich I would found?
Is not the quiet communion with one's self, which is our most precioustreasure, destroyed or banished by living in such close relations withothers?
I think that it is not, and only those who pine for rest shall enterthe home.
I beg you not to consider this as the roof of my life-building; it isto be only a merry green bough which I would set up.
[Eric to Weidmann.]
This letter goes only three days before us to Europe, to the Rhine.
I am coming home.
Deliver the enclosed legal document to the proper authorities.
I herein declare that only a life interest is retained in Villa Edenfor myself and Manna, my wife. I herein declare the house, the garden,the park, as described in the Registry office, and a sufficient sum,hereafter to be determined, irrevocably assigned for the maintenance ofdeserving scientific men and artists.
My friend and teacher, Professor Einsiedel, is commissioned to draw upthe rules regulating the admission and the mode of life of those whoare to be inmates of Villa Eden.
My wish is, that there should be a peaceful refuge for deservingintellectual labor, a home for voluntary work, in VILLA EDEN, THECOUNTRY HOUSE ON THE RHINE.
(P.S.) I have promised Roland, if I live until the year 1887, to comeback here to celebrate the hundredth birthday of the American Republic.Then will we see and compare what each of us has accomplished in hisfather-land and for his fellow-men.
Das landhaus am Rhein. English Page 214