The Quest

A silence, full of dread, oppressed the whole dreary land.

The waste of waters only, could not so suddenly subside, and still pounded in heavy rollers upon the shore.

But it also grew still and calm – so calm that the sun and the moon were reflected in it, as perfectly as in a mirror.

The thunder was silenced about the volcano, and everything was waiting. But the bells pealed on, loud and clear:

"Pan is dead! Pan is dead!"

And now the clouds formed a dark, fleecy layer above the mountains – soft and black, like mourning crepe. From it there fell perpendicularly a fine rain, as if the heavens were shedding silent tears.

The air was clearer above the sea, and moon and evening star stood bright against a pale, greenish sky. Glowing in a cloudless space, the red sun was nearing the horizon. When Johannes turned away and looked toward the mountains, now veiled in leaden mists, a marvelous double rainbow, with its brilliant colors, was spanning the ashen land.

Out of a deep valley that cleft the mountains like the gash of a sword, and upon whose sides Johannes thought to have seen dark forests, approached a long, slow-moving procession.

Strange, shadowy figures like large night-moths hovered and floated before it, and flew silently like phantoms beside it.

Then came gigantic animals with heavy, cautious tread – elephants with swaying trunks and shuffling hide, their bony heads rolling up and down; rhinoceri, with heads held low, and glittering, ill-natured eyes; snuffling, snorting hippopotami, with their watery, cruel glances; indolent, sullen monsters with flabby-fleshed bodies supported by slim little legs; serpents, large and small, gliding and zig-zagging over the ground like an oncoming flood; herds of deer and antelopes and gazelles – all of them distressed and frightened, and jostling one another; troops of buffaloes and cattle, pushing and thrusting; lions and tigers, now creeping stealthily, then bounding lightly up over the turbulent throng, as fishes, chased from below, spring out of the undulating water; and round about the procession, thousands of birds – some of them with slow, heavy wing-strokes – alighting at times upon the rocks by the wayside; others, incessantly on the wing, circling and swaying, back and forth and up and down; finally, myriads of insects – bees and beetles, flies and moths – like great clouds, grey and white and varicolored, all in ceaseless motion.

And every creature in the throng which could make a sound made lamentation after its own fashion. The loudest was the worried, smothered lowing of the cattle, the howling and barking of the wolves and hyenas, and the shrill, quivering "oolooloo" of the owls.

The whole was one volume of voiced sorrow – an overwhelming cry of woe and lamentation, rising above a continual, sombre humming; and buzzing.

"This is only the vanguard," said Wistik, whose despair had calmed a little at the sight of this lively spectacle. "These are only the animals yet. Now the animal-spirits are coming."

Then, in a great open space respectfully avoided by all the animals, came a group of wonderful figures. All had the shapes of animals, only they were larger and more perfectly formed. They seemed also to be much more proud and sagacious, and they moved not by means of feet and wings, but floated like shadows, while their eyes and heads seemed to emit rays of light, like the sea on a dark night.

"Come up nearer," said Wistik. "They know us."

And it really seemed to Johannes as if the ghosts of the animals greeted them, sadly and solemnly; but only those of the animals known to him in his native land. And what most impressed him was that the largest and most beautiful were not those esteemed most highly by human beings.

"Oh, look! Wistik, are those the butterfly-spirits? How big and handsome they are!"

They were splendid creatures – large as a house – with radiant eyes, and their bodies and wings were clearly marked in brilliant colors. But the wings of all of them were drooping as though with weariness, and they looked at Johannes seriously, silently.

"Are there plant-spirits, too, Wistik?"

"Oh, yes, Johannes, but they are very large and vague and elusive. Look! There they come – floating along."

And Wistik pointed out to him the hurrying, hazy figures that Johannes had first seen in front of the procession.

"Now he is coming! Now he is coming! Oh! Oh! Oh!" wailed Wistik, taking off his cap and beginning to cry again.

Surrounded by throngs of weeping nymphs who were singing a soft and sorrowful dirge – their arms intertwined about one anothers' shoulders – their faded wreaths and long hair dripping with the rain – came the great bier of rude boughs whereon lay Father Pan, hidden beneath ivy and poppies and violets. He was borne by young, brawny-muscled fauns, whose ruddy faces, bowed at their task, were distorted with suppressed sobs. In the rear was a throng of grave centaurs, shuffling mutely along, their heads upon their chests, now and then striking their trunks and flanks with their rough fists, making them sound like drums.

Curled up, as if he intended to stay there, a little squirrel was lying on the hairy breast of Pan. A robin redbreast sat beside his ear, mournfully and patiently coaxing, coaxing incessantly, in the vague hope that he might still hear. But the broad, good-natured face with its kindly smile never stirred.

When Johannes saw that, and recognized his good Father Pan, he burst into tears which he made no effort to restrain.

"Now the monsters are coming," whispered Wistik. "The monsters of the primal world."

Ugh! That was a spectacle to turn one into ice! Dragons, and horrid shapes bigger than ten elephants, with frightful horns and teeth, and armor of spikes; long, powerful necks, having upon them small heads with large, dull eyes and sharp teeth; and pale, grey-green and black, sometimes dark-red or emerald-green, spots on the deeply wrinkled, knotty or shiny skin. All these now went past with awkward jump or trailing body; most of the time mute, but sometimes making a gruff, quickly uttered, far-sounding howl. And then odd creatures like reddish bats, having hooked beaks and curved claws, flashed through the air with their black and yellow wings, chattering and clumsily floundering in their flight.

At last, when the entire multitude had come to the broad, rocky strand, thousands upon thousands of little and big rings were circling over the mirror-like surface of the water, as far as eye could see; swift dolphins sprang in and out of the water, in graceful curves; pointed, dorsal fins of sharks and brown-fish cut the smooth surface swiftly, in straight lines, leaving behind them widely diverging furrows. The mighty heads of shining black whales pushed the water from in front of them, spouting out white streams of vapor with a sound like that of escaping steam.

The sun neared the horizon, the rain ceased falling, and the mists melted away, disclosing other stars. Above the crater of the mountain stretched a dark plume of smoke, and beneath it the fire now glowed calmly, at white heat.

Then all that din of turbulent life grew fainter and fainter, until nothing was audible save a faint sighing and wailing. At last – utter silence.

The bier of Pan was resting upon the seashore, encircled by all the living.

The red rays of the sun lighted up the great corpse, the tree-trunks upon which it rested, and the dark heaps of withered leaves and flowers. But also they shot up the mountain heights, sparkling and flaming in glory there – over the rigid, basaltic rocks.

Wistik stared at the red-reflecting mountain-top, with great, wide-open eyes, and a pale, startled little face, and then cried in a smothered voice:

"Kneel, Johannes, Kneel! She comes! Our holy Mother comes!"

Trembling with awe, Johannes waited expectantly.

He could not begin to comprehend that which he saw. Was it a cloud? a blue-white cloud? But why was it not red, in the glow of that sunset? Was it a glacier? But look! The blue-and-white came falling down like an avalanche of snow. Steel-blue lightning flashed in sharp lines upon the red mountain-side.

Then it seemed to him that the descending vapor was divided. The larger part, and darker – that at the left – was blue, and blue-green; that at the right, a brilliant white.

He saw distinctly now. Two figures were there, in shining, luminous garments; and the light of them was not dimmed by the splendor of that setting sun. Rays of green shone from the garment of the larger, but around the head was an aureole of heavenly blue. The other was clothed in lustrous white.

They were so great – so awful! And they swept from the mountain in an instant of time, as a dove drops from out a tree-top down upon the field!

When they stood beside the bier, Johannes looked into the face of the larger figure, and he felt that it was as near and dear to him as a mother. It was indeed his mother – Mother Earth.

She looked upon the dead, and blessed him. She looked at all the living ones, and mused upon them. Then she looked into the face of the sun ere it disappeared, and smiled.

Turning toward the volcano, she beckoned. The side of the crater burst open with a report like thunder, and a seething stream of lava shot down like lightning.

After that everything was night, and gloom, and darkness to Johannes. He saw the bier on fire – consumed to a pile of burning coals – and the thick, black smoke enveloped him.

But also he saw, last of all, the shining white figure moving beside Mother Earth, irradiating the night and the smoke. He saw Him coming – bending down to him His radiant face until it embraced the entire heavens.

Then he recognized his Guide.

PART III

I

The warm tears for Father Pan were still flowing down his cheeks, when Johannes lifted up his eyes with the consciousness of being awake. That which met his gaze was exactly what he had last seen – the comforting face of his exalted Brother enveloped by a dun swirl of smoke. But now it looked different, or else it was perceived through another sense – like the same story told in another tongue – like the same music played upon an instrument of different timbre: neither finer nor more effective, but simpler and more sober.

He found himself sitting on the slope of a mountain, and saw Markus bending over him. The sun had set, and the valley lay in twilight, yet in the dusk one could see the glow of fiery furnaces – could see tall factory-chimneys out of whose huge throats there rolled great billows of murky smoke, like dirty wool. The whole valley and everything that grew on the mountain-side was smirched with black. A constant humming and buzzing, pounding and resounding, rose up from that city of bare, blackened buildings. At intervals there flared up from the furnace bluish yellow and violet flames, like glowing, streaming pennants. The land looked gloomy and desolate, as if laid waste by lava; yet now and then, as a rotary oven belched out a flood of brilliant sparks, the grey air was lighted up for miles beyond.

"Markus," said Johannes, his heart still heavy with sorrow, "Pan is dead!"

"Pan is dead!" said Markus in return. "But your Brother lives."

"Thank God for that. What brought you here?"

"I am among the miners, Johannes, and the factory operatives. They need me."

"Oh, my Brother! I too need you. I do not know where in the world to go … and Pan is dead!"

Johannes embraced the right arm of Markus, and rested his head against his Brother's shoulder. Thus sitting, he was a long time silent.

He gazed at the clouded valley with its colossal mine-wheel, the black chimneys and ovens, the black, yellow, and blue-white wreaths of vapor, the great iron sheds, and the many-windowed buildings devoid of ornament and color.

All about him he could see the sides of the mountains severed as by great, gaping wounds; the trees prostrate; all nature, with its beautiful verdure, burned to cinders; and the rocks cleft and crushed. Upon the top of the mountain, at the very edge of the chasm – an excavation resembling the hole made by fruit-devouring wasps – several pine-trees were still standing. But these last children of the forest were also soon to fall. And in the distance the echo of explosions reverberated through the mountains, followed by the loud sounds of falling stones, as the rocks were shattered with dynamite.

"Pan is dead!" His beautiful wonderland was being destroyed; and in the new life which was to be founded upon the ruins of the old one, Johannes knew not where to go. He was frightened and bewildered.

But had he not found his Brother again, and for the second time beheld him in a glorified form, clothed in shining raiment? And was he not, even now, in his warm, comforting presence?

The thought of this composed and strengthened Johannes.

"My Brother," he asked, "who killed Pan?"

"No one. His time had come."

"But why, then, was he so sad when I asked him about you?"

"The flower must perish if the fruit is to ripen. A child cries when night comes and it is time to sleep, because he wants to play longer and does not know that rest is better for him. All people who continue to be like children cry about death, which is only a birth and full of joyful anticipations."

"Have Pan and Windekind known you, Brother?"

"No, but they have feared me, as the lesser fears the greater."

"Will your kingdom, then, be more beautiful than theirs?"

"As much more beautiful as the sun is brighter than the moon. But the weak, the frail and timid ones who live in the night-time, will not perceive this, and will fear the glorious sun."

For a long time Johannes thought this over. In the far, smoky valley with its mines and factories, a clock struck – farther away another – in the distance still another. Thereupon followed the shrill screaming of steam-whistles, and the loud clanging of bells, and people could be seen pouring out of the workshops.

"How gloomy!" exclaimed Johannes.

Markus smiled. "The black seed also, in the dark ground, is gloomy, yet it grows to be a glad sunflower."

"Brother," said Johannes, imploringly, "advise me what to do now. The beautiful is of the Father, is it not?"

"Yes, Johannes."

"Then must I not follow after that which is the most beautiful of all I have found in this human world? Do tell me!"

"I only tell you to follow the Father's voice where it seems to call you most clearly."

"And what if I am in doubt?"

"Then you must question, fervently, and, still as a flower, listen with all your heart."

"But if I must act?"

"Then do not for an instant hesitate, but venture in the name of the Father, trusting in your own and His love, which is one and the same."

"Then suppose I make a mistake?"

"You might do that; but if the error is for His sake, He will open your understanding. Only when you fear for your own sake, and forget Him, can you be lost."

"Show me then, Brother, what your way is!"

"Very well, Johannes. Come with me."

Together they descended to the valley. The ground was everywhere black – black with coal and slag and ashes, and the puddles of water were like ink.

From all sides came the sound of heavy footfalls. It seemed as if the black town would empty itself of all its people. Hundreds of men ran hither and thither, all of them with heavy, weary, yet hurried steps. Apparently, they were all running over one another – each one in the others' way – but yet there was no disorder, for each seemed to know where he wished to go.

Most of them looked black – completely begrimed with coal and smoke. Their hats and blouses were shiny with blackish water. Usually they were silent; but now and then they called to one another roughly and to the point, as men do who have spent all their strength, and have none left for talking or jesting.

Several were already leaving the wash-houses, cleansed and in their customary sober garments. Their freshly washed faces looked conspicuously pale in the twilight, amid those of their unwashed comrades; but their eyes bore dark rims that could not be cleaned.

Johannes and Markus went past the mines, the coal pits, and the smelting works, until they came to long rows of little houses where the families of the laborers lived. Thitherward also the people were now streaming. Behind the small windows where wives were waiting with supper, little lights began to twinkle everywhere.

Markus and Johannes entered a large, dreary hall having a low wooden ceiling. In the front part of it two lighted gas-jets were flickering. The rest of the place was in semi-darkness. There were a good many benches, but no one had yet arrived. The walls were bare and besmirched, and upon them were several mottoes and placards.

For a half-hour the two sat there without speaking. A dismal impression of the gloom and ugliness of this abode took possession of Johannes. It was worse than the tedium of the schoolhouse. It seemed more frightful to have to live here than in the wildest and most desolate spot in Pan's dominion. There it was always beautiful and grandiose, though often also terrible. Here all was cramped, uninteresting, bare, and ugly – the horrors of a nightmare, the most frightful Johannes had ever known.

This lasted an hour, and then the great hall gradually filled with laborers. They came sauntering in, somewhat embarrassed, pipes in their mouths, hat or cap on head. At first they remained in the dark background; then, seating themselves here and there upon the benches, they glanced to right and left and backward, occasionally expectorating upon the floor. Their faces looked dull and tired, and the hands of most of them – rough and broad, with black-rimmed nails – hung down open. They talked in an undertone, at times laughing a little. Women also came in with children in their arms. Some were still fresh and young, with a bit of color about their apparel; some, delicate little mothers in a decline, with deformed bodies, sharp noses, pale cheeks, and hollow eyes. Others were coarse vixens, with hard, selfish looks and ways.

The hall filled, and the rows of faces peered through the tobacco smoke, watching and waiting for what was to take place.

A laborer – a large, robust red-bearded man – came forward under the gaslight, and began to speak. He stammered at first, and pushed his right arm through the air as if he were pumping out the words. But gradually he grew more fluent; and the hundreds of faces in the hall followed his attitudes and gestures with breathless interest, until one could see his anger and his laughter reflected as if in a mirror. And when he broke off a sentence with a sharp, explosive inquiry, then the feet began to shuffle and stamp with a noise which sometimes swelled to thunder, in the midst of which could be heard cries of "Yes! Yes!" while laughing faces, and looks full of meaning, were turned hither and thither as if searching for, and evincing, approval.

Johannes did not very well understand what was said. He had, indeed, learned German; but that did not avail him much here, on account of the volubility of the speaker and his use of popular idioms. His attention, too, was given as much to the listeners as to the speaker.

Nevertheless, the great cause which was being agitated grew more and more clear to him.

The speaker's enthusiasm was communicated to his audience, becoming intensified a hundred-fold, until a great wave of emotion swept over all present, Johannes included.

He saw faces grow paler, and observed signs of heightened interest. Eyes began to glisten more and more brightly, and lips were moving involuntarily. Now and then a child began to whimper. But it disturbed no one. On the contrary, the orator appeared to utilize the occurrence for his own purposes. Two tears rolling down the ruddy moustache riveted Johannes' attention, and he heard a quiver in the rough voice as the speaker pointed with both hands toward the wailing infant, in such a way as to remove from the incident all that was comic or annoying.

It was apparent to Johannes that these people suffered an injustice; that they were about to resist; and that this resistance was perilous – yes, very perilous – to the point of involving their lives and their subsistence, and also that of their wives and children.

He could see the evidences of long-suffered injustice, in their passionate looks and eager gestures. He saw breathless fear at the thought of the danger which menaced them and their dear ones if they should offer resistance. He saw the proud glitter in their eyes, and the high-spirited lifting of their heads as the inner struggle was decided, and heroism triumphed over fear. They would fight – they knew it now. The great rising wave of courage and ardor left no irresolute one unmoved. Johannes looked the faces over very carefully, but there was not one upon which he could still read the traces of anxiety and hesitation. One kindled soul illuminated them all, like a mighty fire.

Then Johannes' soul grew ardent, and he too waxed strong at heart; for there began to touch him the first rays of the beauty which lay slumbering beneath that sombre veil of ugliness.

After this speaker there were others, who rose in their places without coming forward. Not one of them hazarded the quenching of the sacred fire. They all spoke of the coming struggle as of an inevitable event. But Johannes, with a sensation that made him clench his fists as if the enemy's hand were already at his throat, now saw a heavy, burly fellow stop, stammering, in the middle of his speech, and begin to sob; not from fear – no! – but from keen anger, on account of suffered scorn and humiliation, and because of the insupportable suspicion that he had been disloyal to his comrades. Johannes guessed the details of that story, even although he did not understand the words. The man had been deceived; and, in a time of deep misery, when his wife was ill, he had been seduced, by promises, from joining his comrades in this struggle.

Johannes was glad to see actions, fine in themselves, proceed from a burst of pure emotion, when the whole earnest assemblage, in one unanimous spirit of generosity, forgave the seeming traitor, and reinstated him in their regard.

And as the workmen were about to take their leave, with the stern yet cheerful earnestness of those who are committed to a righteous struggle, Johannes saw, with great pleasure, that Markus was going to speak. They knew him, and instantly there was absolute silence. There was something in the pleased readiness with which these German miners took their places again to listen – a childlike trust, and a good-natured seriousness – that Johannes had never seen among the Fair-people; no, nor anywhere in his own country.

As Markus spoke German with the careful slowness and the purity of one who did not belong to the land, Johannes understood it all.

"My friends," said Markus, "you have been taught in your schools and churches of a Spirit of Truth, which was to come as the Comforter of mankind.

"Well, then, this which has now taken possession of you, and which has strengthened all your hearts and brightened all your eyes – even this is the Comforter, the Spirit of Truth, the Holy Ghost.

"For Truth and Righteousness are one, and proceed from One. From your cheerful and courageous eyes I see that you know surely, with a full conscience, that it is the truth which has stirred you, and that you are to risk your lives in the cause of justice.

"And that this spirit is a Comforter you will find by experience; that is, if you are loyal.

"But this I now say to you, because you do not know as I know, that truth is like a mountain-path between, two abysses, and that it is more difficult to maintain than the tone of a violin.

"You have suffered injustice; but you have also committed injustice. For the act of oppression is injustice, and it is also injustice to permit oppression.

"You have been taught otherwise, and have been told it is written that injustice will be permitted. But even if this were written, the Spirit of Truth would cause it to be erased. I say to you that whoever practices injustice is an evil-doer, and whoever permits injustice is his accomplice.

"There is a pride which in God's eyes is an honor to a man, and there is also an arrogance which will cause him to stumble and to be crushed.