Villa Eden: The Country-House on the Rhine

"Pray tell me," she asked, "did you ever pass through a phase in which you admired men of force, like Ezzelin von Romano? There is, after all, something great in such violent natures, especially when contrasted with men of petty interests and weak dilettanteism" – ,

Eric could not understand what this meant. It did not occur to him that Bella, screened by the presence of a stranger, was discharging arrows, none of which missed their mark.

Clodwig gently closed his eyes, nodded, and then opened them again.

"Oh, yes," she continued, more calmly, "I am glad that I remember a question which I wished to put to you. Tell me, what would Cicero or Socrates have said, on reading Lord Byron's 'Cain'?" Eric looked at her with a puzzled air. This question was so extravagantly odd, that he did not know whether it was intended as a sneer, or whether she was insane. Bella, however, went on: —

"Has Roland ever yet read Byron's 'Cain'?"

"I believe not."

"Give him the book now. It must have an effect upon him. He, too, is a son, who has a right to revolt at his father's banishment from Eden. It is wonderful, the correspondence between the two stories, – is it not? Do you know that we are all, strictly speaking, children of Cain? Abel was childless; yes, the pious Abel had no children: we are all descended from Cain. A grand pedigree! One more question, dear Herr Doctor, Have you never got out of the savants the form and color of the mark branded on Cain's brow by God the Father?"

"I do not understand you," Eric answered,

"Neither do I understand myself," laughed Bella, It was a dismal laugh.

She then continued: —

"I began to read Cicero, 'De Summo Bono,' with the help of a translation, of course; but I did not get far, and took up Byron's 'Cain,' instead: that is the finest thing the modern world has produced."

Eric still know not what to reply, and only gazed into the faces of Bella and Clodwig. "What is going on here?" he said to himself.

Bella began again, —

"Were not the female slaves who served the Roman ladies obliged to puff out their cheeks, when a noble matron wished to strike them in the face? A propos, how is Fräulein Sonnenkamp?"

"She has gone to the convent," replied Eric with downcast eyes.

It oppressed him to be obliged to answer Bella's questions with regard to Manna.

"That seems to me very sensible," was the rejoinder.

"Such a cloister is a shelter where the sensitive child will best find repose until the storm is past. What will Roland now do? What are your intentions, and those of your mother?"

These questions were put in a manner so superficial, so distant, and so conventional, that Eric was able to reply with a certain degree of cheerfulness, —

"In the interim, we have recourse to the great deed which is so universal."

"The great deed?"

"Yes: in the mean time, we are doing nothing."

In the midst of this conversation, Eric's thoughts were in the convent with Manna. There she, too, was now confronting people who had once been such near friends to her. How did they now appear in their new character of enemies and antagonists? Surely they had not assumed this cold, indifferent tone. He felt as though he must stretch out his hand protectingly over Manna, who was now bearing crushing reproaches, and, perhaps, even allowing a penance to be laid upon herself. He grieved that he had let her travel alone with Roland and Fräulein Perini. He felt that he ought not to have left her.

Such was his absorbing thought; and so he absently took leave, saying that he must go on to Weidmann's. Again he rode through the wood which he had traversed on Clodwig's horse the first time that he went to Villa Eden. How utterly different was the Villa to-day! And here at Wolfsgarten, – here he felt that there was some mystery which he could not unravel. How extremely happy had Bella and Clodwig then seemed to him! and now, what were they? Bella's strange, wandering talk, jumbling together Cicero and Byron's 'Cain,' showed that she must have passed hours in dragging herself restlessly through all sorts of things. Then Clodwig seemed overwhelmed by melancholy from which even his universal kindness could only temporarily rouse him.

Eric felt that he must forget all this, since he had in view an end which he must pursue for others and himself, – more than for himself, for Manna. Only he who is personally free from care can devote himself fully and freely to the service of others.

CHAPTER V.

ACQUIESCENCE AND RELUCTANCE

It was already night when Eric reached Mattenheim. The Weidmann family had entered their winter residence, as they called the beautiful, bright rooms on the upper story of their house, with pictures on the walls, and open fires burning on the tasteful hearths.

Frau Weidmann was sitting with her daughter-in-law behind the table on which stood the lamp, while her son was reading aloud. Herr Weidmann was in his study.

Eric begged leave to seek him there, and found him among the alembics and retorts of his laboratory.

"I cannot shake hands," cried he gayly; "but, first of all, turn your mind from the weight which oppresses you. That will help matters. You see you find me in a cheerful mood. We are trying to profit by a new discovery. We have found that a new sort of printer's ink can be prepared from the skins and grounds of grapes. The matter promises well, and our friend Knopf is probably already writing a poem on this subject. He wishes, that, in future, all lyrics, but especially drinking songs, should be printed only with ink prepared in this manner. Look, here is the new stuff boiling. But you had better wait in the next room, where you will find some very interesting newspapers. Wait a little while, and I will be with you."

Eric, going into the adjoining apartment, found the table strewn with American newspapers, containing accounts of violent election struggles between the Republicans and the Democrats. The latter name had been assumed by those who wished to enforce State rights so far as to be incompatible with the existing Union; their true and chief object being the preservation of slavery. On the other hand, the Republican party was united in the name and spirit of Abraham Lincoln.

"In these days in which we live," thought Eric, "the great cause is being decided in the New World. In what state of mind is Sonnenkamp awaiting the result of this struggle?" He read on without knowing what he read.

Weidmann came in, saying that he had expected Eric, and asked how Sonnenkamp's children had endured the publicity of this affair. He declared his readiness to serve, as soon as Eric had explained to him the plan of the jury. He added, that he could not as yet foresee any permanent result that could come from it, but that at least a clearer insight into the matter would be obtained by this means, and, perhaps, the power of putting the children in the position due to them.

Weidmann was the first person out of the family, with the exception of the Major, to whom Eric communicated his connection with Manna. He was not in the least surprised, having looked upon this relationship as inevitable, from all that he had heard of Manna, in connection with what he knew of Eric. He even added, that it was on Eric's account that he had instantly acquiesced in the plan proposed, knowing how nearly the restoration of the honor of the house, in such measure as was possible, must concern him, and feeling that it was the duty of his friends to stand by him.

"Oh, I was so proud of my integrity!" lamented Eric; "and now" —

"You may remain so," interrupted Weidmann; "and I can put your mind at ease on one point. It is certain that the greater part of the wealth of this man at Villa Eden was not gained through the slave-trade. That I know from my nephew."

"Pray, assure our Roland of that, first of all."

"I will. Send him to me as soon as possible."

He asked how it happened that Herr von Pranken continued to consider himself as the son of the house, clinging to this connection with inexplicable tenacity.

Eric could only say that he and Manna, in order not to cause more confusion at this juncture, had kept their affection a secret with the greatest care.

Weidmann urged that it should be made known before the trial; and Eric gave him his word that it should.

His friend then returned at once to the preparations for the jury, saying, —

"One other thing will be hard to arrange. I think that we ought to include the negro Adams."

Eric doubted whether Sonnenkamp would consent to this; but Weidmann repeated that the blacks had precisely the same right to judge the whites, as the latter had to judge them. Eric promised to propose this, but begged Weidmann, meanwhile, not to make his participation in the business dependent on this.

While they were sitting cheerfully at the table, came a new guest, the Doctor. He had been attending a patient in the neighborhood, and was in high spirits, having just performed a successful operation. Soon turning to Eric, he said, —

"There you have an example. Oh, if we could only prescribe a sedative that would quiet for weeks or months!"

He told them about the man whom he had just left, adding, —

"See how much the fine doings of nobility and virtue signify. The man from whose estate I came is an illegitimate Royal son, and his children are already allied by marriage with the clan of high society. So, in twenty years, no one will ask whence came the wealth of our Roland."

When he had heard of the jury, and how his assistance was taken for granted, and as a fixed fact, he cried, —

"Yes! That is the way with the old tyrants! They love a mock burial. But you won't see me in the funeral-procession. Do you really believe that he will submit to your decree? His only object is to compromise other men. He is deceiving you all; and you, dear Dournay, have interfered enough on this man's behalf. I advise you to leave matters as they are. You are trying to help a negro, no, a negro-dealer, to wash himself white."

The Doctor, as he proclaimed his opinion, gave his jolly laugh, which no one could hear without laughing too.

"The fellow would be quite to my taste," he went on; "he would have been a good, healthy scoundrel of the old sort, only that rascals nowadays, alas! are all so reflective, so self-conscious. They are not satisfied to act as one of Nature's elementary forces, but they are constantly making outrageous attempts at logical self-justification. If this Herr Sonnenkamp really wished to change himself, it would be despicable cowardice."

"Cowardice?" interrupted Weidmann. "He who has not a good conscience can easily be overthrown, and has no persevering fortitude. He can be bold, he can be foolhardy; but temerity is not courage."

"Ho, ho!" interrupted the Doctor. "Have I not already told you that I have an aversion to all this sentimental fuss on behalf of the negroes? I have a natural repugnance for negroes. I don't see why my reason should brand such an innate physiological antipathy as a prejudice. It shows prejudice, moreover, to say that all prejudices are groundless. I could wish that we had more of such inborn dislikes, and that we did not permit so-called civilization to rob us of those which we have. The slave-trade is not a fine thing, it is true. If I had been a prince, I should, after all, have ennobled the man. I should have said, 'Good friend, take a bath; but then be merry, and the Devil take orthodoxy!' The thing which vexes me most is, that this Professor Crutius has obliged the nobles by firing off his article beforehand. Could he not have waited a day longer? Then Sonnenkamp would have been one of the nobility, and they would have been obliged to swallow it as they could. Would not that have been much better?"

The Doctor seemed determined not to regard the matter in a serious light. When they were leaving, however, and he had insisted on Eric's sitting beside him in the carriage, and tying his horse on behind, he said, —

"As for the rest of it, I acquiesce, and, to tell you the truth, on account of your faith. You believe that the past can be atoned for by an effort of the will; and do you really believe this man will repent? Well, your faith shall remove me, the mountain of unbelief. We will see."

Eric told him that he had been at Wolfsgarten, and was not a little astonished when the Doctor said that the incongruity and want of harmony between Clodwig and Bella had reached a crisis.

"Bella," he said, "seeks a narcotic. She studies Latin, and, while smaller natures intoxicate themselves with brandy, she strives to stun herself with Lord Byron's poetry. I ought not to speak of Byron. I was once too much inspired by him, and now go to the other extreme. I consider this sort of writing to be not wine, but – But then, as I said, I am a heretic, and, indeed, a renegade heretic."

Seeing that Eric shrank back, he added, —

"You are horrified by my heresy; but then, it is only my individual opinion."

The Doctor was going on to abuse Bella again in his old way. Eric said involuntarily, how strange it seemed to him that the Doctor should be so imbittered against her, for whom he had once shown a preference.

"Ah, bravo!" cried the Doctor in a loud voice. "My respects! I admire that woman. So, then, she told you that I had once paid her my addresses? Excellent! A stroke of genius! I admire the adroitness with which she would fain have deprived my opinion of all weight in your eyes. What bunglers we men are! Shall I make you a solemn protestation? No. Do you believe me capable of the villany of speaking so of a woman whom I had loved, even for a minute, or liked even for a second? But I thank you. I am enriched by a goodly addition to my knowledge of humanity. I thank you. My conscience is soothed, for I have not judged this woman too harshly. Recall this day's ride to my mind at, some future time. I tell you, that woman will yet earn some notoriety. How – what? That I cannot tell you; but such a wealth of inventive power will yet bring, something to pass."

All this jarred on Eric's mood. Why must it come at such a time? Was there not a sufficient weight on his spirits? He scarcely heard the Doctor, as he went on to relate how hard a struggle Pranken had had with his noble connections, and to keep his place at court, owing to his refusal to renounce Sonnenkamp.

When they had reached the valley, Eric took leave of the Doctor, unfastened his horse, and rode back to the Villa.

In Sonnenkamp's room there was still a light. He sent for Eric, who informed him that all had agreed to the plan. He said not a word about Adams being proposed as a juryman.

"I thank you, I thank you heartily," said Sonnenkamp, who was seated in his armchair. His voice sounded like an old man's. "One thing more," he said, sitting upright. "Does the Countess Bella know of this?"

"I cannot say; but I do not doubt that the Count will inform her of it.

"Did she say nothing about me?"

"No."

"Nothing at all? Did she speak of no member of this household?"

"Oh! yes. Of the children."

"Indeed! Of the children? Well, I thank you. Pleasant dreams."

Eric went to his chamber. He stood long at the window, gazing out upon the landscape.

The reign of Nature continues through all human revolutions; and happy is he, who, in contemplation of this, can forget himself.

It was a dark night. A black, wide-spreading cloud hung over the mountains. Then a bright streak of light appeared on the edge of the ridge, and stood between the mountains and the cloud, which grew lighter. The moon rose, the black cloud ingulfed it, and now the light shone out on both sides, above and below; but the dark mass was darker than before, while detached masses of a leaden color floated on the right and left.

Eric closed his eyes, and lost himself in thought. When he looked up again, the moon was standing above the dark cloud, and the landscape was bathed in its light, which quivered on the stream. And again, after a time, the moon was hidden by another cloud. Eric looked out long and fixedly, till the cloud had vanished. The whole sky was as clear and bright as steel undimmed by a breath; and peacefully shone the mild sphere of light, high in heaven.

Nature, fixed on firm foundations, works on according to eternal laws. Must it not be so too with human life?

Eric thought of Manna, and with the thought a soft light was spread over every thing, like the radiance now diffused from on high.

CHAPTER VI.

THE BROKEN-OFF TWIG

While Sonnenkamp was carrying on the arrangements for the trial by jury, Pranken returned looking ill; and, on Sonnenkamp's urging him to tell him what was the matter, he drew forth the letters from his pocket.

He first laid before him the one in which he had been notified by the marshal of the Prince's household, that it was impossible for him, as chamberlain to his Highness, to retain any connection with a man who had not only forfeited his honor, but had behaved so wrongly towards the Prince, that the question was still being agitated whether he should not be openly arraigned on a charge of high treason.

Sonnenkamp trembled, but laughed at the same time, in a way peculiar to himself.

"Let me see the letter again," said he.

He read it; then, giving it back in silence, asked what the other letter contained.

Pranken said it was yet more decided; and handed him the document of the military court of honor, calling upon him to give up all intercourse with Sonnenkamp.

"And what do you intend to do?" asked Sonnenkamp. "I release you."

"I shall stand by you," replied Pranken.

Sonnenkamp embraced him. There was a pause, a strange silence between these two men.

"I defy them all," exclaimed Pranken; "but here is another letter. It is for you," giving him the letter of the Cabinetsrath.

Sonnenkamp read it.

The document was drawn up in very polite terms, and contained the request that he would travel for a time, until an opportunity should offer for putting down the party which was now urging his indictment before a court on a charge of treason.

"Do you know the purport of this letter?" he asked.

"Certainly. The Heir Cabinetsrath chose to give it to me unsealed."

"And what do you advise?"

"I second his request."

A convulsive twitching passed over Sonnenkamp's face.

"Prudent, very prudent," he said to himself. "You wish to banish me, and retain my estate."

A horror began "to creep over him as he saw a vision of himself seated in prison; but he drove it off.

"So you are of the same opinion?"

"Yes. But, before you leave for any length of time, allow me to point out a means by which you may earn new honors for us both."

"Is there such a means?"

"Yes. I have already told you that there is another faction, quiet but powerful, which is ours, and we, or, rather, you, have the means of binding it to you yet more closely."

And now Pranken told how he had promised to be present, almost immediately, at a council held by the nobles of this ecclesiastical province (which extended beyond the limits of the principality), in the archiepiscopal palace. The proceedings of this convocation were to be strictly confidential. Its object was to confer on the ways and means of rendering the Pope military assistance.

"You do not intend entering the papal army?" asked Sonnenkamp.

"I would, if I were not bound by the ties of duty, of honor, of love, to remain here at my post."

"That is fine, very fine. Excuse my interruption. And why do you impart this to me? I am not of the nobility, and have no place in this council."

"You belong to them, and will be present."

"I belong to them? I shall be present?"

"I will be brief. You will give a sum sufficient for the formation of a regiment, and I can assure you, I have security for your being not only unmolested, but crowned with honors."

"And, having given the money, can I remain here in honor?" Sonnenkamp said with a smile.

"It would be better, if you were absent for a time."

A look of exultation passed over the face of the questioner. This was better still, he thought. They wished to deprive him at once of a portion of his property, and to get rid of him, into the bargain. He looked at Pranken with an expression of great friendliness, and said, —

"Excellent! Does the priest of this parish know of this?"

"No. I have won over the Dean of the cathedral, though?"

"Will you allow me to send for the Priest?"

"Certainly, I will bring him myself."

"No! Remain here."

He gave through the speaking-tube an order that the Priest should be requested to come to him; then, turning again to Pranken, said, —

"And so you second the request? Most excellent! They sell blacks, buying whites instead, and the whites become snow-white. They even become saints."

"I do not understand you."

"Very likely. I am only pleased at the excellent arrangement of this world. My young friend, I believe that the thing called virtue is taught by means of a system in the Universities: they have a system of morality. We, my young friend, will work out a system of criminality. We will establish a chair in the University: Thousands of auditors will come flocking around us, whom we alone can instruct in the Truth, the real Truth. The world is magnificent! It must nominate me for the professorship of worldly wisdom, which is a science differing widely from the idea hitherto entertained of it. It is time that this moral rouge should be rubbed off. I know, thus far, but one human being whom I shall admit as my colleague into this faculty, and that one, alas! is a woman; but we must overcome this prejudice also. Magnificent!"

"You have not yet told me whether you accede to the plan" —

"Have I not? My young friend, you cannot yet become a professor. You are still a school-boy, learning the elements, the rudiments. I would fain found a new Rome, and, as once the Rome of Antiquity was peopled with a community of mere vagabonds, so I would fill my city from the houses of correction. No nation can equal their inhabitants. They are the really vigorous men."

"I do not understand you."

"You are right," said Sonnenkamp at last in a gentle tone. "We will be very upright and discreet, very moral and delicate. My young friend, I have something very different in view. The mouse-trap of your cathedral dean is too clumsy for me. I shall not snap at this bait cooked in lard."

Pranken was full of wrath. Sonnenkamp's manner of treating him like a boy still in his school-jacket roused his indignation.

He stood up very straight, and looked down at himself from head to foot, to see whether he were indeed a little boy. At last he said, throwing back his head, —

"Respected father, I beg you to desist from this pleasantry."

"Pleasantry?"

"Yes. I have united myself to you – you cannot deny it – with a loyalty that – I have wished to make you my equal in – no, I did not mean to say that at such a time – only I must beseech you not to withhold your concurrence from this project. We have obligations. We, have great obligations; and I demand that you should" —

"Why do you hesitate? Obey! Pray say the word. Yes, my noble young friend, I will obey you. It is fine, very fine. What uniform have you chosen? Shall we raise a regiment of cavalry or of infantry? Of course, we will make Roland an officer at once. Better say cavalry: he sits well on horseback. Look here, revered fanatic, I, too, have my fancy. We will ride over the Campagna. Ha! That is jolly! And we will have the best arms of the newest sort. I understand a little of that sort of thing. I have shipped many to America, – more than any of you know. What do you think of my raising the whole regiment in America?"

"That would be so much the better."

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Sonnenkamp. "A morning dream! They are said to be the sweetest. Haven't you slept almost enough? Haven't you dreamed out your dream?"

Pranken felt as though chains were being wound around and around him. His sensations were those of a man confined in a lion's cave. He must be gentle, yielding, conciliatory. He dares not rouse the lion. He must allow the brute to play with him, expecting every instant to be torn to pieces by his claws. Oh for some means of escape!

Pranken put his hand to his head. What manner of man was this? What did he want of him?