CHAPTER X.
THE GUARDIAN AND HELPER.
Early in the morning, a carriage from Wolfsgarten came for AuntClaudine and the parrot.
For the thirty years since her marriage with the Professor, FrauDournay had not passed a day without her sister-in-law; now, for thefirst time, she was letting her go from her. It seemed to both of themhardly conceivable that they could live apart from each other, but ithad been decided upon, and must be.
Sonnenkamp was most politely attentive; he charged the Aunt to considerhis house her home, and not to remain more than a few days as a guestat Wolfsgarten. He gave a basket full of carefully-covered grapes andbananas into the coachman's charge; the parrot's cage was on the seatnear Aunt Claudine.
The parrot screamed and scolded as they drove off, and kept it up allthe way, not liking, apparently, to leave Villa Sonnenkamp.
Herr Sonnenkamp proposed a drive to the Professorin, to help her forgetthe parting, but she answered, that not by diversion but by quietreflection, can we compose and reconcile ourselves to the inevitable.Roland looked at her in surprise; these wore Eric's thoughts, almosthis very words.
Several days passed quietly at the villa, which was hardly quitted evenfor visits to the vine-covered cottage. Bella's visit had brought adisquiet to the house, which still hung over them all, and theyrealized it afresh as they constantly missed the Aunt; Bella had takensomething which seemed an essential part of their life. And besides,the house was again without any sound of music.
Eric and Roland were more industrious than ever, for the Mother hadasked if she might not be with them in the study-hours, saying that shehad never heard any of Eric's teaching. Eric knew that she wished tohelp him to keep a strict guard over himself; for though not a word hadbeen said, she felt that something must have passed between him andBella. And she not only wanted to watch over her son at every hour, butto inspire him by her presence to keep true to his duty to Roland.
So she sat with them from early morning through much of the day,breathing low, and not even allowing herself any needlework; and Ericand Roland felt a peculiar of a calm mind, of deep insight, and wideincitement in the presence of a third person, views. At first Rolandoften looked up at her, but she always shook her head, to remind himthat he must give his whole mind to what he was about, and take nonotice of her. Eric was completely free from the first hour, when hehad caught himself giving such a turn to the lesson that his mothermight learn something new, and had met her gaze, which said,--That'snot the thing to be considered. He returned to his simple plan, withoutregard to his mother's presence. She was pleased with the methodicalway in which Eric gave his instruction, and knew how to keep hispupil's attention. She listened with pleasure, one day, when he saidthat Indolence liked to say:--Nothing depends on me, a singleindividual; but, a nation and humanity consist of individuals; ascholar learns through single hours and days; a fruit ripens by singlesunbeams; everything is individual, but the collected individuals makeup the great whole. Eric had prepared himself, and read appositepassages from Cicero, and from Xenophon's Memorabilia. Roland must feelthat he had the fellowship of the noblest spirits. But when they werealone, his mother said,--"I think that in illustrating everything andtrying to give your pupil knowledge, you weaken and loosen his firmhold on fundamental principles."
Eric felt a shock of disappointment; he had hoped that his mother wouldexpress entire pleasure, and she was finding fault instead; but hecontrolled himself, and she continued, smiling:--
"I cannot help laughing, because my two points of criticism are reallyone and the same, looked at on two sides. The one view is this, that itseems to me dangerous to give your pupil, as you do, just what hedesires: you follow the devious path of a young discursive mind, andjust there lies the danger of private instruction. I mean, in this wayit pampers the youthful mind by giving it only what it wishes for, notwhat it ought to have. The discipline of a definite course of studylies in the necessity of taking up and carrying forward what theconnected plan requires, and not what may suit the fancy; this fits onefor life too, for life does not always bring what we long for, but whatwe need and must have."
"And what is your second point?" asked Eric, as his mother paused.
"My second point is only a repetition of the first. I remember yourfather's saying once, that the first and only true support, or ratherthe very foundation of education, must be:--'Thou shalt, and thou shaltnot; straight forward without comment, without explanation, withoutillustration.' Now ask yourself whether you are not weakening hischaracter. When our Roland is brought into a conflict, I don't knowwhether knowledge will help him, rather than the ancient command: 'Thoushalt and thou shalt not.' I only say this to you that you may think itover; others may praise you, I must warn you. I can say, though, thatyou have attained one important point; the boy has a holy reverence forthe spirit of the Past."
Eric grasped his mother's hand, and walked on sometime in silence. Thenhe explained to her how he wished to give Roland not only knowledge,but a firm foundation of self-reliance, on which his life might rest.
"My son," replied his mother, "you have set yourself a difficult task;you want to accomplish a three-fold work at once; that is not possible.Listen to me patiently. You want to complete and perfect a neglectededucation; you want to lead to higher aims, gaining at the same time amoral foothold and moral elevation, without using the means handed downto you; and, finally, you want to train a youth, who knows his ownwealth, to be a useful, unselfish, even self-sacrificing man. Now whydo you laugh, pray? I will stop, though I might add, that you want tomake a boy without a family affectionate, and a boy without a countrypatriotic. Now tell me why you laugh."
"Forgive me, mother; there's reason in your being called Professorin;you have discoursed like a Professor from his desk. But let me tell youthat the two-fold or the five-fold task is only a simple one in theend. I confess I have often said to myself that I might make it easier,but then I would ask myself whether this was not an attempt to excusemy own desire of comfort. I must make the experiment of placing a youthupon the platform of acting freely from----"
"Reason?" responded the mother. "Reason may give composure, but nothappiness nor blessedness; reason may not be the nourishment whichsuits the young spirit. Remember, my son, that meat is good food, butwe do not feed a new-born child on meat instead of milk. Do youunderstand what I mean?"
"Yes; you mean that religion is the mother's milk of the spirit."
"Exactly," said the Mother, in triumph. "Your father always said thatno man had ever produced any great work, or accomplished any greatdeed, who did not believe in God; God is the highest object ofimaginative thought. So long as philosophy cannot show a moral lawwhich can be written, concisely and with perfect clearness, upon twotables of stone, education must make its progress through religion."
"Mother," answered Eric, "we believe in God more truly than those whowould confine him within the limits of a book, of a church, or of aspecial form of worship."
"Ah," said his mother, "let us drop the subject. Do you see thatbutterfly, flitting in great circles against the window pane? Thebutterfly takes the glass, from its transparency, to be the open air,and thinks that he can pass through it, but dashes his head at lastagainst the glass wall that seemed to be nothing but air. But enough, Iam not strong enough for you. If your father still lived, he could helpyou as no one else can."
The conversation, now turning on the father's death, wandered away fromthe previous subject.