CHAPTER XIII.
FRESH WINE, FRESH SONG, AND FRESH FAME.
The Doctor had called, in the meanwhile, but only for a brief quarterof an hour at a time; he commended Eric for so taking upon himself theentire direction of Roland, and devoting himself to him so exclusively;he desired that no intervention of his should interrupt the inflowingof the moral and spiritual influence.
Eric now detained him, speaking of Roland's paleness, which he thoughtan indication of sickness.
"Indeed?" cried the Doctor. "Has it taken so soon? I am glad that ithas made its appearance on the surface so early and so decidedly."
"What is it? What is it, then?"
"It's all right and normal; symptoms all good. My dear young friend, Icall it usually the May-cold. Just consider a moment! Roland wasborn for a huntsman, and I was afraid you would turn him into apebble-gatherer or a beetle-sticker. I see very plainly, that you wouldlike to give him a deeper apprehension of life, but there lies thedanger that he will take it too seriously; now the best prescriptionfor life is, to take life easily."
Eric chimed in with this, acknowledging that he was far from desiringto make Roland a pattern youth, perfect in every particular. The Doctorcontinued:--
"As I said before, our lad is troubled with the May-cold. Wheneverthere is a change in the relations of life, as change of occupation, ormarriage, where the previous independence is given up, after the firstweeks of bloom, notwithstanding all the happiness enjoyed, comes in theMay-cold, just as we see in nature. They say that it comes from theAlps, from the melting of the icebergs there; perhaps icebergs ofegotism melt within, and at any rate, it is like a renewed struggle ofwinter with summer, like a struggle of solitariness with sociality.Don't be despairing! Let the days of chilly convalescence pass over thelad, and all will be well. Don't press him hard in these days; he isalready beginning to feel as if he had come under a yoke. Moreover, Iwill give him some medicine, so that he shall think he is not well;this will be an advantage to him, and to you too, for you can then giveway to him, as an invalid is expected to be perverse, and to behumored, as a matter of course."
The Doctor now came more frequently. He proposed to Eric to make alonger visit at Mattenheim, in accordance with Weidmann's invitation,as the contemplation of a life full of a many-sided activity wouldrefresh both teacher and pupil. Eric replied that he did not considerit right to leave, for any length of time, the house that had beenentrusted to his care. The Doctor assented, thinking it better thatRoland should first become thoroughly familiar with the Rhine-home.
Eric and Roland now often accompanied the Doctor some distance on hisrounds, and both acquired together a deeper acquaintance with the lifeof the Rhineland. The Doctor explained that he had an object in this,holding that it was a very important thing in a man's life to make apoint of getting the best wines that could be had, and carrying out hispoint. Roland could and should do that. It was no less important toprocure the good wine of the world, than its beautiful works of art.And if a sense of his dependence upon the Rhineland were instilled intoRoland, much that was noble would result, especially if he could bebrought into connection with the family of Weidmann.
The Doctor was the best of directories, knowing every house and itsinmates very intimately, and speaking of everybody with discriminatingjustice, showing the dark as well as the bright side with equalimpartiality. House after house furnished them with a refreshing sketchof life, and cellar after cellar with a refreshing draught.
"They talk about the deterioration of the race," said the Doctoredifyingly, "and there seems to be a chronic ailment, but it is notdangerous. People use themselves as filters and pour in wine; so it hasalways been; and so it will be. If the sun shines very hot, they thinkthey are entitled to drink; and if the weather is disagreeable and wet,they must strengthen themselves with a good draught."
They alighted at a house, which had in front a statue of the HolyMother with a lantern in her hand.
"Up-stairs here," said the Doctor, "pure genuine wine is sold; the manhere supplies the church and the church dignitaries with the communionwine, which must be unadulterated. This man's father is a famousembroiderer of church-cloths, and his brother an illustrious painter ofsaints; and when people can turn their religion to any profit, they ithold it in sacred earnest. The main point is, not to impugn theuprightness of believers, and then they are inclined not to questionthe uprightness of us unbelievers."
They went on farther to another house, and the Doctor said:--
"Here dwelt a merry rogue, who has actually made the house haunted; hewas an old screech-owl, a mason by trade. It's known that he had alittle chest made by a carpenter, with a lock by a lock-smith; and thischest he walled into the cellar, which he built alone by himself. It isnow believed that there must have been a considerable sum of moneyconcealed therein; and yet he may have been rogue enough to hide therean empty box, in order to play a joke upon those who should come afterhim. And now the people are undecided whether to pull down the house ornot, in order to find the box. It's possible they may find an emptyone, and have a demolished house for their pains."
The Doctor gave such a turn to his information about men and things,that Roland could derive advantage from it.
The Doctor greeted in a very friendly way an old man with a craftycountenance, who was sitting in front of his house. The man asked thephysician if he would not take another drop of "the black cat," andthey went with Eric and Roland into the cellar, where they drank afiery wine from a cask on which, in fact, a black cat was sitting,though it was an artificial one with shining glass eyes. The old manwas excessively merry; and clinking glasses with Roland, he said:--
"Yes, yes, we are all bunglers compared with your father."
Then, with great gusto, he praised the shrewdness and craft ofSonnenkamp, and Eric looked timidly at Roland, who appeared to be butlittle affected by what was said; when they went away the Doctorsaid:--
"This is the genuine peasant, for the genuine peasant is really thegreatest egotist, thinking only of his own profit, though the wholeworld beside should fall to pieces. This is the old burgomaster wholent money to people needing it, and when a bad season came, he made animmediate demand for it, with unrelenting harshness, so that theirvineyards were sold at public auction; and now he possesses a largelanded property, yielding the best wines. Yes; he is a cunning rascal."
This narrative produced a wholly different impression upon Eric fromwhat it did upon Roland, for the latter considered that the rascalitywas a matter of course. Eric looked askance at the Doctor, for he couldnot conceive how he could be on such friendly terms with theburgomaster; and when he further asked whether the man was respected,he received an emphatic response in the affirmative, inasmuch asproperty secured respect in the country.
They also stopped at the gauger's, the good-humored brother of thewhole country around, and were led by him through the wine-vaults, andsupplied with many a good drop to drink. The gauger always liked totell stories that were not always fit for a boy to hear, but the Doctorsoon led him to a different subject.
The gauger always carried with him some flour bread, which he calledhis "little sponge." "With straw," he said, "they tie up the wines, andwith this little piece of bread, that has been grown from the straw, Ifasten in the wine." They had calculated that the gauger had drunk,during his life-time, seventy butts of wine; but he asserted that theyhad been very tender to him, for he had drunk a great deal more thanthat.
It was a merry, exhilarating life into which Eric and Roland wereinducted, and when they returned to their strict method of study, therewas a deep realization of the fact that they were living in the midstof a merry region, where existence can be easily wasted in play.
It was midsummer, and there came cold, windy, disagreeable days, whenit seemed that summer had departed, and yet it could not be, it mustbecome hot again. The nightingale was voiceless; it had not ceased tosing all at once, but seemed to utter
occasionally single notes frommemory, while there were heard more frequently the thin voices of thelinnets, or the full, short call of the blackbirds. The summer shootson the leafy trees showed that the summer had reached its height, andwas declining; the forest-trees had attained their season's growth, andthe song of birds had ceased, except that the unwearied black-cap stilltwittered, and the magpies chattered among the branches.
Eric and Roland often, sailed upon the Rhine, and Eric sang; he wasrejoiced to hear Roland say:--
"Yes, it is so. A person can sing at all seasons of the year, if he hasa mind to."
Eric nodded, feeling that the consciousness of art and of a freehumanity had been awakened in Roland; and he now said that they wouldabsent themselves for a few days from the house, and proposed to Rolandtwo plans: either they would go to Herr Weidmann's, of whom there hadbeen so much said, or to the great musical festival that was to takeplace at the Fortress. Boats ornamented with parti-colored streamers,having singers on board, went up the river and were greeted at all thelandings with the firing of cannon. Roland requested to go to thefestival, and he wanted to walk a part of the way, desiring to seeagain, and this time in company with Eric, the road over which he hadwandered by night.
They set out in good spirits, and Roland was very talkative, relatingto Eric all his adventures. They came to the wood, and Roland gave anaccount of his falling asleep, and of his wonderful dream. He blushedwhile telling it, and Eric did not ask what his dream was. Roland wentsilently into the wood.
"Here it is; here it is!" he suddenly exclaimed. "Here is myporte-monnaie! God be praised and thanked, I have not been robbed.Come, let us go to the village, where the hostler lives whom Isuspected, and I will give him all the money."
They proceeded to the village, but the hostler was not there, havingbeen drafted into the military service.
Roland was very sorry at that, and wrote down the man's name in hismemorandum-book.
The two went on through the country clothed in the green of summer, andwhen they reached the railroad, took the cars for the Fortress. All washere decked with flags, and the whole town appeared in holiday attire.Men and women streamed in from all quarters, some on boats and some inthe cars, singing in clear tones, and were received with a heartywelcome. Eric was happy to be able to say to his pupil:--
"Remember that this belongs to us. Neither the Greeks nor the Romanshad such celebrations, nor any other nation but us Germans."
They spent the night at the Fortress, and the next morning allassembled, the hundreds of male and female singers, and a great crowdof listeners, in the festival hall now properly ornamented, but atother times used as a fruit-market. A gloomy rumor was spread throughthe assembly; the singers shook their heads, and clapped together theirhands, while among the audience there was a commotion and a rustling.
A man of fine voice, an experienced singer, had been suddenly takenill.
"Look yonder," said Roland; "there sit nuns, and there are pupils, inthe school-dress that they wear at Manna's convent. Ah, if Manna shouldbe here too!"
Eric said to Roland:--
"Stay here; I will see if I can be of any assistance. I depend uponyour not quitting this seat."
He went up to the singers on the platform, and spoke earnestly to theleader, by whose side he stood. Men came up to them while they weretalking together, and went away again. Suddenly all eyes were turnedtowards Eric, and a whispering and a buzzing went through the assembly.Master Ferdinand, the conductor, tapped with his baton, and his look,which directed and inspired all, was smiling. There was silence, and ina tone that won all hearts he said:--
"Our baritone has unfortunately been taken ill, and this gentleman bymy side, who does not wish his name to be mentioned, has kindly offeredto undertake the solos for our absent friend. You, as well as we, willbe grateful to him, and willingly extend to him the requestedindulgence, as he has made no rehearsals with us."
A universal applause was the reply.
The choruses began, and their tones, like the voice of many waters,moved Roland's soul. Now Eric rose. All hearts were beating. But at thefirst tone he uttered, each one of the singers, and each one of thelisteners, looked to his neighbor and nodded. It was a voice, so full,so deep, so penetrating the heart, that all held their breath as theylistened. And when he had ended, a storm of applause broke forth whichseemed almost to shake the hall.
Eric sat down, and the choruses and then other solo performers sang;again he rose, and yet again, and his voice seemed to grow still morepowerful, and to penetrate more deeply into the hearts of all.
But how was it with Roland, one of the thousands who listened, and whowere thrilled by the sound of this voice, in the depths of their souls?
The choruses rolled in like billows of the resounding sea, but whenEric sang, it was as if he stood upon the deck of a noble ship, andruled over all; and this voice was so near to Roland in itsfriendliness, and yet so nobly exalted! The youth was possessed by thatfeeling of blissful, dreamy gladness which music awakes in us,transplanting it into the depths of our own life, and causing us toforget our own dreams, and merging our own individual self in the sadand blissful element of being.
Roland wept; Eric's voice seemed to waft him upwards into an invisibleworld, and then the choruses began again, and he seemed to betransported into a heavenly state of existence.
Roland wanted to tell his neighbor who the man was, for he heard on allsides questions and conjectures; but he said to himself:--
"No one else knows who he is, except me."
His eye now swept again over the collection of girls dressed in blue,and one of them nodded to him. Yes, it is she! it is Manna! Herequested those sitting near him to let him pass through them; hewanted to go to his sister and to tell her who it was that had justbrought such blessedness into the hearts of all. But he was repelledwith vehemence, and his neighbors scolded about the saucy youth, whowas so restless and out of humor, and wanted to create a disturbance.
Roland remained quiet, and by that means let slip the suitableopportunity of the intermission, for pressing through the crowd toManna.
The Oratorio was ended, but the applause of the assembly, did not seemlikely to end. There was a universal call for the stranger's name.
"Name! Name!" resounded from a thousand lips, with noisy demonstrationsand shouts.
Then Master Ferdinand tapped with his baton again upon his desk,nodding in a friendly manner to Eric, who held back, and all cried:--
"Silence!"
Eric rose, saying in a composed voice,--
"My sincere thanks. That I have been able to take part here, has beento me a divine service, a service to divine art; and because I do notdesire by any unfamiliar name to lessen the feeling of devotionawakened within you, and for this reason only, have I been reluctant togive you my name."
"Name! Name!" was again called out by the assembly.
"My name is Doctor Dournay."
"Huzza! Huzza!" burst out the whole assembly, and the orchestra playeda threefold flourish, all shouting:--
"Huzza, Doctor Dournay."
Eric was almost crushed, and his shoulders ached with thecongratulatory strokes upon them.
He saw himself surrounded by those who were already acquainted withhim, and those who desired to make his acquaintance. The assemblydispersed.
Eric looked around for Roland, but he was nowhere to be seen. He walkedabout the square in front of the music-hall, and then returned to it;here he found everything in confusion, for they were rushing in everydirection; setting the tables for the festival-dinner. He waited a longtime, for he felt convinced that Roland had got lost in the crowd, andwould come back here.
At last Roland came, with glowing cheeks.
"If was she!" he exclaimed. "I went with her and her schoolmates to theboat, and they have now set off.
"O Eric, how splendid it is, how splendid, that you sang, for the firsttime, to her! And she said you could not be so godless, for you sang sodevoutly. She said
that I was not to tell you this, but she is a rogue,she meant that I should tell you. O Eric! and the Justice's Lina, andthe Architect; too, are among the singers; they are walking arm in arm,and they recognised you, but they did not betray you. O Eric, how youdid sing! it seemed to me that you could fly too; I was every momentafraid that you would spread your wings and fly away."
The youth was in a state of feverish excitement.
An usher came to invite Eric and his brother--such he supposed Rolandto be--to be present at the dinner and to sit near the director.
Others came who knew him, and strangers who wished to be introduced.
A photographer, who was one of the solo singers, besought Eric to allowhim to take his photograph, while he was waiting for dinner, ashundreds and hundreds of the singers wanted to have a picture of him.
Eric declined, with thanks, these manifestations of friendliness, andtook, with Roland the first boat to return to the villa.
Roland went into the cabin, and he was soon sound asleep; Eric satalone upon the deck, and he was troubled with the thought of havingbeen brought so prominently before the public. But he considered, onthe other hand, that there are times when our powers do not belong toourselves alone, and when we cannot ourselves determine what we willdo: I did what I was obliged to do, he thought.
When they came to the stopping-place, Roland had to be waked up. He wasalmost dragged into the row-boat, and he was so confused andbewildered, that he did not seem to know what was going on around him.
After they had disembarked, he said:--
"Eric, your name is now repeated by thousands and thousands of people,and you are now very famous."
Roland, who had never sung before, now sang, the whole way home, astrain of the chorus.
They found at the villa letters from Eric's mother and from HerrSonnenkamp. His mother wrote, that he must not mind it if he werereproached with having sold so cheaply, and so speedily his _ideal_views, for people were angry, and were partially right in being so, athis abrupt departure without saying good-bye.
Eric smiled, for he knew right well how they would have their fill ofjesting about him around the so-called black table at the Club-house,where, year after year, the shining oil-cloth was spread over theuntidy table-cloth. It appeared incomprehensible to him how he couldever have fancied spending there a day of his life, or a brightevening.
Sonnenkamp's letter made a wholly different impression; he authorized,Eric, in case he thought it worth while, to take the journey toBiarritz with Roland.
"My father will like it, too, that you have received so much honor; thenun, indeed, who accompanied Manna, said that he would not take itwell, that you had made yourself so notorious."
Eric looked disturbed. The feeling of servitude and dependence cameover him. He had pledged his whole personal being to Sonnenkamp'sservice, and in all his actions he must first ask himself the question,how they may perhaps be taken by his master.
The whole day was now strewed over with ashes, and in place of thelofty feelings that had animated him, he now experienced a degree ofdepression of spirit.