Villa Eden
Chapter 229 : I have not written for five days, and now, mother, the man who is writing to you has b

I have not written for five days, and now, mother, the man who is writing to you has been, with his nearest and dearest, in the jaws of death.

We have lived through a storm such as our captain, a seaman of three-and-twenty years experience, has never seen before.

I must confess, I was not among the brave. And, in the midst of the tempest,--such is the double-action of the soul,--I could not help often thinking of the everlasting "Extraordinary," at the long table in the Post, speaking of my death, and lamenting his having abandoned poetical composition: our end would have made a fine subject. The coolest in the midst of the storm were Roland and Knopf. The latter, however, was not with us, but on the forward deck with his betrothed.

Manna held me clasped in her arms. We wished to die together.

Oh, why should I recount our dangers? They are past. Now that we are safe, we talk of them no more.

On the next morning, when the sky was so clear, and the sea so calm, we celebrated a betrothal on board. It was friend Knopf who was betrothed; he will write you a more detailed account of it all. The cask of virgin wine, which had been given to us, was shared among the crew on that day. The Rhine poured joy into the veins of us all.

There was singing, dancing, jubilation. All the flags were hoisted, and at table friend Knopf made an address no less amusing than touching. I believe he is going to send Fraulein Milch his speech. We had music, too; Knopf played the flute, and persuaded Manna to bring her harp on deck. All the pa.s.sengers and the sailors stood around her with suspended breath, and, when she had ended, shouted and huzzaed.

In three days we shall each land; I do not know whether I shall write again till then; my first step on the soil of the New World will be to send you this letter, unless we should meet, on the way, some vessel which will take it to Europe.

To Europe!

I feel raised so high above the world, that it seems as if I could play with whole continents.

Be joyful in thinking of your happy son,

ERIC.

[Knopf to the Major and Fraulein Milch.]

DEAR BROTHER AND SISTER,

Oh, how delightful it is that I, who have never been able to call any one by these names, can now apply them to you!

In the red blank-book which you, dear sister, gave me, are many notes of travel, which I hope to be able, some time, to write out: now I cannot. Out with the best thing: I am betrothed!!! It occurs to me, while making these three exclamation marks, that their form has a meaning. They seem to me like the image of a comet. Do ask Professor Einsiedel if I have not made a great scientific discovery.

Do you remember, dear sister, my telling you of my meeting a girl with two boys in the forest, that time when I was coming to find our friend Herr Dournay? That girl is my betrothed. Her name is Rosalie, like yours. She looks enough like you to be your sister. Yes, she is your sister. She has brown eyes, like you.

"But who is she, then?" I hear you ask, laying aside your sewing and looking 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 this respectfully--she has pa.s.sed her own examination as a teacher, and her brothers are splendid fellows. I did not venture to approach the girl, although I recognized her at the first glance. I tried to ingratiate myself with the brothers and said one day to the smaller one, who took to me at once--"Tell your sister I met her in the forest, last May, on her 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, when you 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 gla.s.ses, and must confess, I should have liked to throw them into the sea, and myself after them.

"What did she say?" you ask.

She spoke kindly and heartily: she said she had not ridiculed me--Oh, I don't remember the rest--she gave me her hand, and----

I cannot write it; you shall hear all about it sometime, and, even if I don't describe it, you know just the same: I, Emil Knopf, girls' tutor through so many generations, am engaged to an angel. That is a hackneyed phrase. Who knows whether angels could stand the teachers'

examination?

I say with Herr Weidmann: I should just like to know how men can manage not to believe in G.o.d. Could only human understanding devise such a story as this? I had not the slightest idea where she came from, or who she was; and now she is put aboard the same s.h.i.+p for me, or you may say, I am put on board, and now the war breaks out, and she has an uncle 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 best thing?

To have a beloved one to live through a storm.

In the midst of the storm, and it was no ordinary one, I thought, How would 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 it feels to have a soft hand stroke your face, and even to be told, "You are handsome,"--just think of it! I, Emil Knopf, famous as the least dangerous of men, I am handsome! Oh, how blind were all mothers and daughters in the blessed land of Uniformingen! Rosalie has a little mirror, and when I look into it, I am really handsome--I am pleased with myself. But do not think I have gone mad; I am in full possession of my mental powers. Herr Major, I pledge myself to explain to you the law of the centre of gravity and of the line of gravitation. I retain my understanding intact.

One thing, however, is hard for me. I find that I am no poet. If I were, I should now, of necessity, compose such poems that the whole world would hear of nothing else. The sailors could not refrain from singing them, nor the soldiers, coming away from the parade ground, nor the white-handed young lady at the piano, nor the journeyman by the roadside, when he takes off his oil-cloth hat and lays his head on his pack. Oh, I feel as if I must have something which should appease the hunger of the whole world, crying to all men, "Do you not see how beautiful the world is?"

But now I beg for a wedding gift. You and Fraulein Milch must have your photographs taken, for my sake. Oh, excuse my writing Fraulein Milch--I mean the Majorin. I see that I have kept writing Fraulein Milch throughout 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 have written enough, my whole life long, and now I wish to do nothing but frolic 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 to my Rosalie, and so do Adams and our three doctors and young Fa.s.sbender.

Every one rejoices in our happiness, and my young brothers-in-law are jolly fellows. We are all practising English, but we mean to remain true 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 that I must write now: she is sitting beside me. But I really cannot write my inmost thoughts, when any one is in the same room with me, and especially when such dear eyes are looking at me. I will try, though: Rosalie thinks I have spoken so beautifully that it ought not to be lost. She makes me vain, she thinks so much of everything I say.

You know that we had a frightful storm, and that we were formally betrothed the day after. It was only a little betrothal feast; but in spirit we invited the best people to it, and I summoned and addressed you all; you first, dear Major--or, rather, pardon me, dear brother, and then you, dear sister. Your cap with the blue ribbon was a good centre for my thoughts.

I spoke as follows:--

Oh, you good people, I cannot. They all say, I spoke as if I had received the gift of tongues. It may be so, but write it I cannot. I must 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 taking notes of a severe criticism for me. Yes, that is the way with teachers that have pa.s.sed their examination.

NEW YORK.

To put into a letter what one has experienced in New York in three days, nay, in one, would be like holding fast in our hands the changeful 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 as a nephew very willingly. I wish I had you here, dear Brother Major, to explain to him who I really am, and how circ.u.mstanced. Now I must wait till he finds it out for himself; perhaps that will never happen. I don'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 one of the family, some time or other.

The Uncle is very reserved; but great as his reticence is the openness of every one in Dr. Fritz's house. Ah, dear brother and sister, now I know what Herr Weidmann's home must have been when he was young, only Herr Weidmann has more sons, and here there are daughters. And what splendid creatures they are! And such a wife! I can only say, when she looks at you with her great eyes you are satisfied.