A Tale of the Kloster Part 14

On a bright day in August the Solitary Brethren arranged in a circle about a heap of burning brush fed by most willing hands, we consigned to the glowing embers all the books and writings of Onesimus, among them being his polemic against the Moravians; and three days later the Sisterhood of Saron repeated a similar ceremony, upon which occasion two of his German broadsides and a pillar against the Moravians as well as his hymns were consumed by the fire. And to make sure naught of contamination remained with us, on the sixth day the brethren of the Secular Congregation gathered all the writings and mementos of Onesimus and committed them also to the flames.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "We consigned to the glowing embers all the books and writings of Onesimus." Page 198.]

Not many weeks later the prior and his brother, Jephune, with Timotheus and several other followers, fled about four hundred miles toward the setting of the sun, until beyond all Christian government they reached a stream which runs toward the Mississippi, New River by name, where they were joined soon after by the rest of the Eckerlings.

With their exit an immediate change took place. The mills were immediately closed, and word sent abroad that all our agreements were cancelled--only we would fulfill our standing orders--but that hereafter no grain or seed or logs or rags would be purchased by us, excepting such as would be absolutely necessary for our own use. Our horses and wagons and oxen were sold, and the different helpers who were not of our belief discharged, for we were determined that, as we had come here to serve G.o.d and not Mammon, G.o.d we would serve. But in spite of our resolution such was the excellence of the flour and the wheat and the oil, and the quality of the paper and cardboard we had made, that for many years demands were made upon us repeatedly; but I rejoice to say no effort was made in all the long after years again to reinstate these things for anything except our own uses, and when two years later three of our mills were lost by fire, which certain malicious ones attributed to our superintendent, and which could not be extinguished either by our wooden fire charms or our incantations, not one of us greatly regretted the event, so far as the loss of the mills themselves were concerned, only that we felt the loss of the large stores of wheat and other grain.

Thus as Brother Lamech hath well said, "Did the fire, with G.o.d's permission, make an end to all the mammon which the Eckerlings, by their flaying, sc.r.a.ping, miserly conduct had gathered in the former household."

And now I feel I must turn again to my Sonnlein, who by this time was a st.u.r.dy boy of about thirteen, and that it may be known from his actions, instead of my great love for him what manner of boy he was, I shall tell of his first fight, that is, the first one I knew of; and this I can say of him, even though he was not a perfect example of the doctrine of non-resistance, he cared naught for fighting, but suffered in silence many a taunt and vile insult that made the blood rush to his cheeks; for not only did the neighbors' children--learning this from their idle-tongued parents--call him a "n.o.body's child"--for as he grew older he soon found there were ever ready ones to poison his happiness by telling him of his unknown parentage--but the elders themselves oft nicknamed him "Brother Jabez' chicken," for that he was always under my wing.

But one hot day in summer--and I take an unholy pleasure in writing this--Sonnlein and a lot of other boys and girls, were paddling bare-legged in the cool waters of the Cocalico, nigh the turnpike ford, filling the air with their thoughtless shrieks and laughter, so that the quiet-loving Brothers and Sisters were sorely tried in patience.

Suddenly the harmless shrieks and laughter rose into a tremendous uproar, and so unusual was this tumult to mine ears I started hurriedly for the ford, fearing some awful calamity had befallen the children. As I came nigh I saw a lot of boys of all ages and sizes--so I wondered where they all came from--gathered in a struggling, yelling ma.s.s in the meadow along the creek, a fringe of frightened, white-faced little girls in the background--each boy, large and small, with might and main pressing forward toward the center of the howling little maniacs as if something of great moment were proceeding there. And indeed there was, for I was almost on them before they saw me or heard me call out sternly, "What meaneth all this noise?" When they did hear me and see my form hanging over them like some great thunder cloud they fled quickly, only that some from a distance in derision of my tonsure cried out at me, "_Alter_ _Blatkopf_" (old baldhead), so that like Elisha I wished the bears to eat them up.

All but two had fled, and they were rolling about in the gra.s.s, now one on top and then the other, then to their feet, striking, clawing, and scratching like nothing so much as two angry cats; but suddenly the smaller but more active one, who seemed to me strangely like Sonnlein, delivered a marvelously directed blow full upon the upturned nose of the other, bringing forth a goodly stream of rich, red blood, whereupon the bleeding one put across the meadows, his hand to his face, bawling at the top of his lungs, the victorious gladiator following a short distance and crying after the vanquished, "Dost want some more of 'Brother Jabez' chicken'?" and then horrors upon horrors, I saw through all the mud and dirt and disordered hair, and the fierce, distorted features, 'twas my boy Sonnlein!

He saw me about the same time, and then the angry face fell into one of shame as I called to him, "Come hither!" He came obediently enough, saying nothing; but the wild pa.s.sion of conflict could not die out at once, and as he stood there, digging his toes into the earth and casting sullen, rebellious glances at me, such as I had never received from him, and sorely they wounded me, he blurted out, "He began 't."

"Have I not often told thee," I demanded, as much in sorrow as in anger, "thou must not fight? Would couldst see thyself now to know how much like the beasts we become when we stoop to fight and tear each other asunder."

Still he said, but less defiantly, "He began 't, I tell thee."

"Art thou not sorry for breaking his nose?" I asked.

"Nay, he began 't; I had to fight. He hath been calling me names and trying to stir up a quarrel. Now he hath what he looked for."

"Couldst thou not have left him? Thou hast legs to carry thee," I reminded him.

But he only replied more firmly, "I'm glad I beat him, and that right well. He will trouble me no more."

And then as I took him by the hand and we were about to go to our cells I noticed within a few steps one of the little girls who had formed part of the frightened group in the background. She seemed about my boy's age, perhaps a trifle younger, with such deep blue eyes and long yellow hair, I thought of our Sister Bernice, only that our poor sister was never so rosy-cheeked and strong looking as this pretty little maid standing timidly nigh, and finally bursting into a plaintive appeal, "Don't whip him, Brother Jabez, it was Johann's own fault." Johann I suppose being the name of the still fleeing one.

"And why should I not punish Sonnlein for fighting, my little sister?" I asked gently.

"Because," she replied falteringly, and I could see her face was red as fire.

"'Because' may be reason sufficient for little girls, but not for big men," I replied still gently.

"Johann called him names," she rejoined.

"But surely hard names break no bones. If we fought whenever we heard ill of ourselves we should have little time for else than fighting. Now tell me truly why did they fight?"

And then I felt Sonnlein tugging at my hand and looking up at me more shamefaced than ever as he cried out, "Let us go, _Vaterchen_, I told thee why we fought," all the while frowning at our little sister as though warning her not to say anything.

I am not overly inquisitive, but now I was resolved to know all, so I said to her sternly, "My little sister, tell me the truth," and then more tenderly I said, "thou knowest Brother Jabez would not hurt thee or Sonnlein--not overmuch." Upon which great a.s.surance she spake up as bravely as she could between the sobs that would not keep back, "Johann said I must be his wife when I was grown up, and Sonnlein said I was to be his wife, and--and--I--I--said so too."

"Well, what then?" I asked between stern surprise and tenderness as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Why, then we will keep house together," she replied innocently.

"I meant not what ye were going to do. I meant what did Johann do after thou didst promise thyself to Sonnlein?"

"Why Johann called Sonnlein bad names and struck me in the face and Sonnlein hit him." And then she said with such proud defiance I was greatly shocked, "Sonnlein licked him."

"And so ye two are to be man and wife when ye are grown up? What is thy name?" I asked turning to the little shrew.

"Mary."

"Well," and I spake out strongly, "let me not hear of this again, else will I tell thy parents, Mary; and as for thee, Sonnlein, if I hear aught of this man and wife wickedness again thou shalt have opportunity to celebrate thy first whipping." Thus did I threaten in my unwisdom these poor, innocent children.

"Ye do promise ye will never again speak to each other such nonsense?"

Whereat they both promised so willingly they would not that I greatly doubted the promise would stand any great strain.

As Sonnlein and I turned back again to the Kloster, leaving Mary to find her way home without the protection of her young knight, he looked up at me innocently and asked as sweetly as though he had never known such fierce feeling as fighting, "Wast never in love, _Vaterchen_?"

I was about to reply with unwonted crossness, "What is't to thee," but just then I caught a glimpse of the mound, not more than a stone's throw to our right, beneath which lay our Bernice, so I merely remained quiet and answered not at all, only I could not help thinking that even Ecclesiastes sayeth there is a time for love and a time for war, and though Sonnlein was rather young for me to predict what his manhood would be, it will be seen that my fond hopes were none of the brightest for making him a gentle, peaceful celibate.

CHAPTER XIX

WHEN HEARTS ARE YOUNG

Come, Corinna, let me kiss thee!

Come, my dearest, to me here!

I would know why joy should miss thee, I would have thine answer clear.

Smiling sweetly said she, "No,"

Then demurely yielded so.

--Francis Daniel Pastorius (of Germantown).

How the years slipped by! Twenty years ago my Sonnlein had come to me a little toddler. Now he was a tall youth--even taller than I--strong and straight as the pine under which I found him; full of healthful animal spirits that sometimes in their exuberance give me vague fears as to what his active, enthusiastic nature might lead him to. Thus far he had done naught to shake my confidence in him. He was a constant solace to me. Brother Obed, with unwearying patience for Sonnlein's lively ways, was exceedingly proud of his acquirements, for between Brother Obed and me Sonnlein had not only learned to speak our mother tongue like one of us, but even in Latin and Greek he was no indifferent scholar. We had also taught him the arts of rhetoric and logic and mathematics, and had versed him in literature and history, poetry and music.

But above all mathematics, history, language, and literature, Brother Obed and I had taught Sonnlein what we knew and what we could teach him to find out for himself about this world of ours, this delightful book of nature our Creator gave us to read and search with no less diligence than his written word, and so the moon and the stars by night, the sun by day, the ever-recurring seasons, calm and tempest, the sparkling streams, waving trees, the sweet and lovely flowers, the creatures that fill G.o.d's earth, man, bird, and beast--all these were taught so that our boy understood them as so many manifestations of his power and beauty and love and tenderness for us who were created in his image. And that our boy might have the best of all guides for the interpretation of this visible life and the unseen world beyond the gates of death, we taught him gently but persistently G.o.d's holy word, for in our simple view of life it seemed a great shame that one should know all about the kings and princes of this fleeting earth but know naught of the Prince of princes and the King of kings. Thus our boy, we fondly trusted, was prepared to fill any place in this world according to his gifts, happily for himself and others.

But I dare not pretend that he was a youthful saint, for frequently to my poorly concealed amus.e.m.e.nt and the evident chagrin of our superintendent, Sonnlein often put the former to utter rout in the discussion of some of his finespun interpretations of holy writ. Indeed, I fear there was no love lost between our estimable leader and my boy, for Sonnlein had that inexorable logic, that sure keenness of mind that pierces a sophistry as a skillful archer wings his arrow to the center of the mark. At times Sonnlein's apparent want of reverence, his seeming irreligion, his lack of deference for Brother Beissel's peculiar views, threatened to disrupt the brotherly relations that ever existed between our superintendent and me, his a.s.sociate; for with all his sternness, his austerity, his unbending will and ambition, I recognized that our leader was no ordinary man, and while not a scholar he was a man of great and many talents--all in all, just the one to hold together our little community.

The trouble was that while Sonnlein had much of the sweet reasonableness and charity that comes from the study and contemplation of the humanities, he added to his poetic, philosophical temperament the energy and will that mark the man of action. An ardent, impetuous, positive nature like his was bound to clash with one like the superintendent's, and more than once it called forth all my wits to prevent actual rupture between the two, which would have scandalized us sorely. Thus it was that while I frequently reproached Sonnlein for his irreverence for Brother Beissel, I just as often placated the latter by pleading Sonnlein's youth and inexperience.

I recall especially one occasion when our leader had delivered a long discourse on one of his pet theories, that in heaven we should have the same occupations we had followed here. Sonnlein's brief comment, so it was brought to mine ears, was he pitied grave-diggers and the like if that was all the reward they were to receive. In our Kloster there were tattlers and talebearers, just as in more worldly places, and our leader hearing of the thing, which I knew Sonnlein had said more in jest than in disrespect, came to me in high dudgeon and demanded Sonnlein make open apology before all the Brotherhood. This I knew full well Sonnlein would not do and I besought our worthy leader to overlook the matter and forgive him. I shall never forget how he almost yelled at me, his small frame quivering with righteous indignation beneath my towering stature.

"Forgive him! So sayest thou ever. I verily believe thou couldst forgive the devil!"

"In truth, dear brother, I oft have done so," I replied, smiling quietly and looking down into his angry eyes meaningly.

He straightened up and, as he walked savagely away, delivered this parting shot: "No doubt; thou hast had abundant opportunity in thy precious Sonnlein!"

It was my turn to flush now, but happily I controlled myself and said nothing, consoling myself with the reflection that our superintendent's witty retort would go far to appease his indignation and that by the morrow he would greet me with his accustomed affection and good-will, for in order to make others love us it is only necessary to make them love themselves, and many a rascal by this knowledge hath overcome many a wise man.