CHAPTER IX.
CONSULTATION OF THE MEN, AND A WOMAN'S VERDICT.
Who could describe the various changes of expression in the features ofthe judges during Sonnenkamp's speech!
After he had retired, they sat together in silence.
Weidmann looked bright and unmoved: his clear blue eye was calm, andhe seemed surprised by nothing he had heard.
The Major was busy with an internal struggle, passing, in review beforehim, his neglected youth. He often struck his breast with his clenchedhand, thinking to himself,--
"Yes, who knows but that you might have become just like this!"
And he was overpowered by the emotion caused by considering his owncase, and that of the man who had spoken so defiantly. He wanted tokeep from shedding tears, but did not succeed. He wiped off theperspiration from his face with his handkerchief, and at the same timegot rid of the tears. He longed to go to the poor rich man, embracehim, and call out to him, "Brother, brother, you have been a very badbrother; but now you are going to be a good brother: you will be?" Buthe did not venture to give way to the impulse of his heart. He lookedround, to see whether any one would begin; but no glance was directedtowards him, except the kindly one of Professor Einsiedel, to whom theMajor nodded, as if he would say,--
"Yes, in all your books, you have never seen any thing like this. It ishorrible, that a man can think and do all this; but I pity him from thebottom of my heart, and you pity him too: I see you do."
The Doctor was the first to speak aloud, and he said to Clodwig,--
"We have been, without meaning it, the listeners to a comicperformance. A simple-minded transgressor, a transgressor from theimpulse of passion, can, perhaps, be converted; a cunning and hardenedone, never."
"With all my detestation," replied Clodwig, "I admire this power, whichcan so lay bare the hypocrisy of the world. Oh,"--
His mouth seemed parched; and he moved his tongue frequently, this sideand that, appearing unable to say any thing further. He looked at theexpressive countenance of the Banker, and, nodding to him, said,--
"I see you have a word to say. Pray say it."
The Banker, coloring very red, responded,--
"Certainly. I will not speak of the emotion this life-history hasexcited in me. It is--I know not what to call it; but I think it is ahistory of humiliation: and perhaps a Jew ought to be inclined to judgerighteously, I will say mercifully, of all sins and transgressionswhich proceed from being slighted and contemned. Humiliation, placingthe matter in a social point of view, awakens bitterness, hardness,recklessness; and it must be a peculiar nature, which becomes, underits influence, mild, even to faint-heartedness and weakness."
The Doctor respected the man's point of view; but he did not seemdisposed to accede to it. He urged a decision, asking,--
"Have you any method of punishment or reparation to propose?"
"First of all," replied the Banker, "I don't know any thing else,except to take away from this man all parental power over his children;and we must devise some delicate way of doing this, in order not toinflict suffering upon them."
"We Germans," cried the Doctor briskly, "are for ever and everschoolmasters. This hard, seared villain of a Sonnenkamp wants to teachthat his villany is pure wisdom and logic; and he contemptuouslygarnishes his cynicism with ideas."
"Exile," began Professor Einsiedel,--"exile would be the only sentencewe, like the ancients, could pronounce upon him who has desecrated andinsulted all the blessings of civilization; but there is no land towhich we could banish him, where, stripped of all the conquests won bycivilization, he could atone for his past life."
Professor Einsiedel seemed not to take it amiss that he had anopportunity to put to a practical use the studies he had made of thehistory of slavery, and to show how the Greeks had no perception of itsiniquity; but the Doctor laid his hand upon the professor's shoulder,as much as to say,--
"Some other time, I pray."
The Professor gave him a nod.
"Every punishment we suspend over him," said Prince Valerian, "is apunishment of his children: he is protected by an invulnerable shield."
There was now a longer pause. "And yet we shall and must find one,"cried Weidmann. "I beg you to come together here, a week from to-day,at the opening of the sealed opinions; and then we will come to adecision. It is our duty to find some punishment that will makeatonement without striking the guiltless."
In a faltering voice, the Major entreated the friends not to separate:they had, as yet, come to no proper decision; and he could not helphimself out of the difficulty. He would have been very glad to ask thathe might be allowed to take Fraeulein Milch into counsel, for he wassure that she could help him; but in a jury one must make up an opinionfor himself.
The heavy head of the Major swayed this side and that, and seemed to bealmost too heavy for him to hold up.
Those assembled seemed to desire to be freed from the painfulsituation; and Weidmann exclaimed,--
"I pronounce the meeting adjourned."
They all rose as if they must escape from imprisonment, or from aninfected atmosphere. They would have liked to go out into the freshair; but it rained steadily, and there were puddles and small rillsin the garden walks. They went into a spacious apartment, and Claussaid,--
"How would it answer--allow me, gentlemen, to ask--how would it answer,if we sentenced Herr Sonnenkamp to go back home, and sell himself for aslave?"
As no one replied, he went on timidly,--
"I don't know whether that would be just the thing; but 'twould besomething, anyhow."
Weidmann told him that no white man could be made a slave.
"This Herr Sonnenkamp," said Clodwig with quivering lips to Eric, "isnothing but a victim of the distracted condition of our age. The wholeof humanity at the present time has a troubled conscience; it knowsthat it is not in harmony with, itself, and this creates a universalunrest. This individual man, driving hither and thither, prosecutinginiquity by night, and extremely respectable by day, this is theoutbirth of our life. Ah! excuse me, I feel quite sick."
Clodwig requested the Doctor to accompany him to Wolfsgarten, as hefelt very unwell; but, just as the Doctor was getting into the carriagewith him, he was called to Frau Ceres.
Joseph came, in a short time, and informed Clodwig that the Doctorcould not leave his patient.
The Doctor remained with Frau Ceres, who had strangled the parrot in aparoxysm of madness, and smashed every thing in the room.
He opened a vein, from which the blood flowed very dark; and she becamemore quiet.
Sonnenkamp did not leave his room when the account of his wife'sillness was brought to him.
The doctor again sent word to Clodwig, that he had better remain here,especially as it was raining very hard, and the Rhine was beginning torise; but Clodwig insisted on returning home.
Now the Doctor came himself, and begged the banker to drive withClodwig to Wolfsgarten, and Clodwig himself entreated this favor of hisold friend. The latter agreed at once, only saying that he would firstdrive speedily to the town to send a telegram, that they need notexpect him at home until some further notice. He drove away.
Bella had gone to the green cottage to see Aunt Claudine, and behavedthere very amiably towards her and Lina; but she could not help lettingfall some severe expressions in reference to the Professorin and Manna,who had so selfishly taken themselves out of the way whilst such aterrible transaction was taking place in the house.
When a servant came and informed her that Clodwig wanted to set outimmediately, she exclaimed, stamping with her foot,--
"I will not!"
And then she added:--
"Very well, let him take me up here."
The carriage drove up; and Bella seated herself by Clodwig's sidewithout his getting out: he sat shivering in one corner.
"Why do you not ask how I am?" said he, in a feeble, trembling voice.
Bella made no re
ply. She was internally struggling; but suddenly sheexclaimed,--
"Foh! You ought all to be ashamed of yourselves! What are the whole ofyou in comparison with this man? He alone is a man, he alone. Here issomething grand and strong among this lint-scraping, humanitary set.You are all imbeciles, cowards! This Sonnenkamp is the only great man,a strong man, a real man. Oh! if such a man"--
"Well? If such a man"--
"Ask me no more questions. I will drive home with you, home,--you havethe right to command,--what more do you want? Not another word,not a word, or I shall not mind the pouring rain, not the least:I shall jump out of the carriage, I shall go off, I don't knowwhere; but I won't be imprisoned any longer; I won't be banishedto your miserable, old, pot-digging, pretty-spoken, vaporing,freedom-vaunting, humanity-gouged, world!"
"Wife, what are you saying? Are good and evil then"--
"Pooh! Good and evil, these are the crutches on which you lean, becauseyou have nothing to lean on in yourselves. A man must be strong, andhave good grit: whether he is good or bad is a matter of indifference.Any thing but weak and sentimental; any thing but hiding behind yourhumanity with its blissful tears. A man who is not made of iron oughtto be a woman--no, he ought to be a nun. You are nothing but a set ofsoft-hearted nuns. Yes, it must be so; it is so. A Jew to sit injudgment on such a man, and an atheist like this Herr Dournay! Yes, theatheists are the only consistent democrats. All are equal: there's nolonger any higher being, no longer any God; then there's equality, andyou are everybody's equal. Dastards, loafers! May you find goodlyfellowship together! He is the only man. He has done you too much honorin wanting to belong to you, you are not worthy of him. You are all ofyou afraid of Jean Jacques Rousseau, of the fool of equal rights. It isstill to be seen whether the world smothers itself in this mixed massof equality, or whether there are heights for it to climb. You ought togo across the ocean; there's the last decisive battle-field; you arenothing but a nobility in a holiday uniform. The Southern States standerect, and if they fall, there's no more aristocracy; then you'll allbe clipped by the shears of equal rights. Just call the coachman inhere, your brother-man! Don't let him be out there in the rain, heought to be sitting with us in the carriage. Or shall I call him foryou?"
She seized the cord, and the coachman reined in. After letting Clodwigwait in torture for a while, she cried,--
"Drive on, it's nothing."
She turned her head restlessly, this way and that. Her eyes wildlyrolling, and grinding her teeth, she exclaimed in a loud tone:
"Fie upon all the cowards! Oh! if I were only a man!"
Clodwig sat in the corner, shivering. At this moment something clinkedin Bella's mouth, and she put her hand up to it. What is that? Yes, shetook it out--it is so. In her angry gnashing of her teeth, she hadbroken a front tooth, which had been tender for a long time, andrequired careful treatment. Bella clinched the hand in which she heldthe tooth, and pressed her lips together. What has happened to her? Thethought rapidly shot through her, How vexatious it was that she couldno longer ridicule those who wear false teeth; but yet she can, fornobody will believe that she, Bella, has a false tooth.
They met the Banker waiting for them in the town: he said that he hadsent the message to his house, and was ready.
Bella got out of the carriage, and holding a handkerchief before hermouth, and speaking in muffled tones, requested the Banker to accompanyher husband, and a servant to stay with her. She hurried towards therailroad. Arrived at the station, she was perplexed; and without takingthe handkerchief from her mouth, she told the servant to take ticketsfor the Fortress. Then she sat still in a corner of the passenger-room,with two thicknesses of veil over her face. She rode to theFortress-City. No one was to know that she wore a false tooth, no onewas to see her with a gap in her teeth.
Clodwig drove homewards, and often wiped his eyes. Above all, his pridewas wounded; he, Clodwig, was scorned, and by whom? By his wife. And onwhose account? On account of this hollow-hearted adventurer. She hasnever loved me one single instant: that was a stab to his very heart,and this stab never ceased to be felt; for what he suffered bodily wastransmuted into a suffering of the soul. Who is there that can measurethis action and re-action of body and soul?
The rain had ceased; but a mist seemed before Clodwig's eyes, and aheavy gloom. He reached Wolfsgarten; but all the apartments seemed fullof smoke, full of haze. He seated himself in his chair.
"I am lonely, lonely," he said to himself continually.
The Banker spoke to him in gentle words; but Clodwig shook his head; heknew that Bella had never loved him, that she hated him. He felthimself humiliated, scourged. Bella's words had wounded him to theheart's core, wounded him to the death.
They drew off his coat: he looked for a long time at the coat, andnodded with a sad smile.
Did he forebode that he would never put it on again?
When Bella returned home early the next morning, he looked at her witha ghostlike countenance: he perceived the coldness and hardness of herface.
"Medusa, Medusa!" shrieked Clodwig.
Without knowing he had uttered the words, he fell back on the pillows.
They restored him to consciousness. Hours of the severest pain elapsedbefore the Doctor came. Clodwig had also desired Eric to be sent for.
The Doctor came, and declared Clodwig to be dangerously sick; the jurytrial had excited him too violently, and the drive home through therain--"and perhaps something else," he added to Bella, who gazed at himwithout changing a muscle of her face.
Bella sent for her brother; but no one knew precisely where he was.
"I am lonely," said she, too.
She was terrified when she said this; for she felt that she would soonbe really alone.