Villa Eden
Chapter 230 : Oh, what glorious people we Germans are! Wherever we are transplanted, here in the air

Oh, what glorious people we Germans are! Wherever we are transplanted, here in the air of freedom especially, we shoot up, and show, for the first time, what we really are.

I stood by when Roland and Lilian met; they must have some secret sign of recognition, for their first word was "Pebble." Yes, in love affairs some secret understanding is always formed. They merely held each other by the hand, and then went out together. Children live here in great independence.

Things go on beautifully at Dr. Fritz's, only n.o.body has any time.

I now understand the American saying, 'Time is money.' There is an extraordinary restlessness everywhere.

Here is war--war! Most people think it will soon be over, but Dr. Fritz says that the obstinacy of the Southern States is great, and that they are the better armed.

What is to become of me? you ask. Dr. Fritz thinks it strange that I still wish, in earnest, to become a teacher of negroes, especially as I do not yet speak the language with ease. He gives me hope, however, of being able to carry out my plan, by-and-by. And my thoughts go even further. A Normal School must be founded for negro youths; I shall keep this in view. Meantime I am giving music lessons here, and it seems so strange, when I come out of a house where we have been practising, to hear in the street the noisy roll of the drum.

Adams is in despair; the President will not yet permit any blacks to enlist. Adams has been told to work on the fortifications, but this he will not do.

Young Fa.s.sbender will have nothing to do with the bird-trade which Claus wanted to draw him into with his brother; he has undertaken to furnish supplies for the army. I hope he will behave honorably, for, sad to say, I hear that a great deal of cheating and embezzlement is carried on even in this Republic.

[Knopf to Fa.s.sbender.]

.... and tell me, did I ever meet at your house a teacher by the name of Runzler? It is very important to me to know, this, for he was my father-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 take snuff from a big beech-wood box. So my idea was correct. Memory is a whimsical thing. We ought, professionally, to take it into consideration far more than we do. I remember actually nothing but the beech-wood snuff-box; but I beg you to tell me what we talked about at that time. You recollect, or rather I remind you, that I was at that time much saddened by the childish prank which Roland had played off upon me. I was so troubled, that I cannot remember any thing that pa.s.sed. So write me all about it, and you will be doing me a great favor. 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 a romance.

The philosopher Sch.e.l.ling 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 I have a good poem about it in my head. Unfortunately I have as yet only the t.i.tle; 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 a heading!

Your son is an extremely practical man, you will have much satisfaction in him.

If your under-master chooses to come here, I can procure him much employment in piano lessons. We have teachers enough in Germany to export some.

[Roland to the Professorin.]

Pardon me if I no longer venture to call you mother. It seems to me like an injustice to my dead mother that I ever did so. I entreat you to have her grave carefully attended to, and to keep it strewn with her favorite 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 were floating on the sea, and must come hither to us.

Eric and Manna have, of course, described our voyage to you. While at sea, I learned tolerably well how the s.h.i.+p was managed, and I should have 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 is better 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 when the war is over.

Please let these lines be seen by no eyes but yours.

We have been at Was.h.i.+ngton; I have seen the Acropolis of the New World.

I wished first to make a pilgrimage to Franklin's grave, but it was better 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 face with him, I have uttered the name which will be handed down to posterity. Those lips, whose words now resound throughout the world of to-day, and shall be reechoed by future ages, have p.r.o.nounced my name.

I have looked on greatness, and how simple it is!

It was at Carlsbad, in the course of that memorable conversation,--I do not remember much of it, but this struck me,--that some one, the Cabinetsrath, I think, said: "He who has walked through a portrait gallery of his ancestors, traverses the whole of life accompanied, as it were, by those eyes." Oh, from Lincoln's eyes the spirit of Socrates and Aristides, the spirit of Moses, of Was.h.i.+ngton, of Franklin, gazed upon me. And then I felt those to be the forefathers whom every one can earn for himself by honorable labor, by loyalty and self-sacrifice. I have the loftiest ancestry, and I will be worthy of it.

I enclose a photograph of Lincoln. He resembles Weidmann, not in appearance, but in the impression he makes on one. I told him about Adams, and how unhappy the negro was that he could not enter the army, but could only be employed on fortifications. Lincoln told me to trust mature discretion, and not to forget, in the exuberance of youth, that we must use all means in our power to bring about an understanding, in order to be justified before our own conscience and before G.o.d, if obliged 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 was silent, and only laid his broad, powerful hand on my head. Manna remains at Dr. Fritz's. Eric has probably already told you of his entering 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 much older 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 I will say no more of that. I left Griffin behind, in Lilian's care. We are in the cavalry. If we only had our Villa Eden horses here! Tell the Major to write me word who has bought them. My heart aches if I think of Villa Eden.

Just now, having written that word, I was obliged to stop. Have patience with me: you shall see that your great goodness to me has not been 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 you say, "Be strong." I will. I dare not think how it will be when we are again with you. You are our home. We must wait, who knows how long? Who knows with what sacrifices? I dare, not think that Eric may be taken from me--from us.

It seemed like a dream to me, when we trod the soil of this continent--of my native land. I would gladly have floated on with the s.h.i.+p forever. I am living in the house of Dr. Fritz. Eric and Roland have to-day gone to Was.h.i.+ngton to see Lincoln. I do not realize that Eric 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 brought us 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 all the good, intellectually wide-awake people, and often, when I hear the wife and children talking and see them acting, I want to say, "That you get from Eric's mother, from my mother." There exists, over the whole earth, a common fund of n.o.ble thought, as every one finds who bears a portion 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." You have given me the power of seeking, of knocking, and I find that it is opened unto me. Oh, mother! Why must it be by means of such tremendous events, poised so narrowly between life and death, that the greatness and goodness, the readiness for martyrdom of the human heart, must be developed? Why not in peace, in love, in quiet cares?

That will be the millennium, you have often said, when the best qualities will no longer unfold in struggle, but in beauty and peacefulness. You, my mother, are a messenger and a witness from the paradise-world beyond the strife. Rejoice, as we rejoice, that you are this messenger, this witness. I will become like you, I am and will be your 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 practised pieces in which I accompany Lilian's singing on the harp. Oh, if we could send some of those tones over the sea! In the midst of the uproar of life around us, here we sit and sing by the hour together. Now I understand anew that saying, that art is a redeemer;--that saying of father's.

Why is the word father so harrowing to my soul? How happy it was for my mother to be s.n.a.t.c.hed away as she was! When I fall into this train of thought, I always feel as if entering a desert, far, far away; nowhere anything cheering to the eye or refres.h.i.+ng to the soul. We must bear it.

I see with sorrow that I am writing confusedly; but you know and believe me, when I say that I am really calm, and, above all, you are to know that I never burden our Eric with these heavy thoughts. It is less from intention than--no, as soon as he comes, all dread and grief vanish; everything is light, suns.h.i.+ne, day.

Three days later.

Eric has returned with Roland from Was.h.i.+ngton. They have much to tell, and Roland is in a state of enthusiasm which you can easily picture to yourself.