Villa Eden Part 221

Weidmann, on the other hand, revealed them in their simple, natural aspect. He introduced method into Roland's thought, life, and work; for, thus far, the latter had been too unstable, even in spiritual things. He gave Roland a course of lessons in agricultural chemistry, which, at the same time, served Prince Valerian as a review of the teaching he had already received.

Eric, too, came in for a share of this instruction, and became Roland's fellow-pupil.

Very seldom did Weidmann pa.s.s from positive facts to spiritual interpretations; but he was all the more impressive when he did. He led Roland to a comprehension of human life, to patience, and wisdom. He showed him, that, despite the stress laid on the equality of mankind, men differed as widely in their power of grasping thoughts, as different substances in their ability to conduct heat. Earth warms quicker than water; but it cools more rapidly also. Thus, by a.n.a.logies from Nature, did Weidmann endeavor to teach his pupil justice, and humanity, and was not unfrequently surprised to discover in Roland a kind of previous preparation, which enabled him to receive new ideas readily, and to develop them; for ideas having an a.n.a.logy to each other must needs suggest and flow into one another, giving rise to new combinations of thought, as we see in mechanics, and conspicuously in chemistry.

Weidmann often expressed briefly to Eric his pleasure at Roland's zeal in work and study, and his interest in the labor of others in the manufactories.

But, if a great and noticeable change was taking place in Roland, a still greater transformation was being effected in Eric. Here, where a man wrought always with reference to his neighbor, where no one dreamed of grasping the entire system, but each throve quietly by himself; here Eric's lips were often sealed for days together. He no longer felt it his duty to be always imparting. He not only found a deep joy in his love for Manna, but he preferred listening to talking, and seeing to showing. He felt as if he were on some peaceful island, where yet he could hear a friendly voice at any hour. Pranken might now have watched him from morning till night in vain: he would have had to retract that bitter speech of his about Eric's zeal for imparting knowledge.

Roland and Knopf often regarded him with surprise. He would accompany them on long walks without uttering a single word.

The evening of each day was devoted to festivity. Great stress was here laid upon that evening recreation, which, unfortunately, has become obsolete in the world. Frau Weidmann, who dressed neatly but plainly during the day, appeared regularly each evening in holiday attire. They did not have prayers at Mattenheim; but Weidmann held private worship in his soul.

When Roland expressed his peculiar pleasure in the fine and efficient system of horse-breeding at Mattenheim, Weidmann would say,--

"I have a story to tell about that. Everybody has heard, and possibly seen with his own eyes, how the old lord of the manor used to drive through the village with his span of dock-tailed bays, to the admiration of all beholders. And it is customary to say that we have no such horses now-a-days, so large, so fat, so handsome! Well, that may be. But no more are there such miserable nags to be seen as in old times. All horses are moderately strong and handsome, and of tolerably good blood. The breed generally has improved. And there you have the present age. The horse is a fine emblem to my mind; the lilac is another. They used to bring this flowering shrub from Persia, and set it only in the parks of great people; but now it grows everywhere, and is none the less beautiful for being common. And so the beautiful enlarges its circ.u.mference perpetually."

Roland's eyes sought Eric's at such words; and their flash said, "How new, how glorious, how wide, the world is!"

On another evening, Weidmann made the casual remark,--

"If the last century deserves to be called the age of enlightenment, ours should be called the age of free labor; for self-imposed labor is alone genuine and productive."

Roland did not look at Eric after this, but sat with downcast eyes. He knew what the expression signified, having heard it used before now in contradistinction to slave-labor.

Prince Valerian, too, created much amus.e.m.e.nt. He had always retained that insatiable desire for knowledge, which he had displayed on his first day at Wolfsgarten; but Weidmann was as indefatigable in his answers as the Prince in his questions.

Teaching had acquired a new impressiveness for Roland. He was a member of society. He heard questions answered which he himself had not proposed, and, when he subsequently asked these same questions of himself, the replies sank into his heart more deeply than the answers to his own inquiries used to do. Weidmann's teachings were always clear and definite. They fixed attention on the subject exclusively, never on the teacher, insomuch, that Weidmann's own worth was often quite overlooked.

A stream so clear that its bed is plainly visible frequently appears shallower than it really is; and so it was with Weidmann. He was not brilliant; but he had genuine common sense.

There was always unusual excitement at Mattenheim when a letter arrived from Dr. Fritz; and Weidmann said openly, that, since storms were abroad in the world, he trusted that the tempest which had broken over America might clear the air in Europe.

Encouraged by this remark, Knopf related how it had been represented to Louis XIII. that he could never convert savage nations, and bring them into the church, without first enslaving them: now, however, he said, the heathen were brought into the church, but the little matter of freeing them afterwards was forgotten.

Frau Weidmann deprecated this sort of discussion before Roland, but comforted herself with the thought that her husband must have some deliberate purpose in it all.

And, in fact, it was Weidmann's design to lead Roland to a full consideration of this question. He knew the sophistry of the world, and how accessible to such sophistry is a heavy heart. He had often in the commercial town heard intelligent and philanthropic people discuss the question of the slave-trade, and offer all manner of palliations for it. Roland must feel to the full the anguish of having to work out the solution of this problem as best he could. With a vehemence altogether unusual, Weidmann expressed his indignation that any one should ever justify the trading in human beings endowed with speech and reason, as if they were inanimate things.

It was, however, impossible to brood long over any one thought amid the far-reaching and many-sided activity of the place. Moreover, the laying-out of a new village upon the lately-purchased domain afforded manifold occupation.

Weidmann particularly enjoyed the carrying out of this plan. He admonished the younger men that it was a misfortune not to have arable land connected with a vineyard, not only because crops sometimes fail, but because the smaller vine-dresser, who must sell in the autumn, is underpaid for his petty crop. A peasant who has wheat or potatoes to sell receives the same fixed price for a given amount of produce as others do whose crops are large; but it was not so with grape-culture.

Knopf was very urgent that the village should not be one of those tiresome colonial settlements built exactly in a straight line: and the architect consoled him by pointing out that the meandering brook, and the church upon the hill hard by, gave an effect of grouping by no means geometrical.

Knopf won Roland over to his plan of building a music-hall forthwith.

So there was perpetual interest and variety about the life at Mattenheim.

When they came home from the fields, the manufactories, the mines, or the domain, they could see it at once in Frau Weidmann's face, if she had had a letter from America.

Doctor Fritz wrote often; but their greatest pleasure was when Lilian wrote also.

Roland's interest in Lilian was stimulated and enhanced in two ways.

Prince Valerian liked particularly to congratulate Roland on cherishing an early love without losing his manly energies. Knopf had a poet's deep delight in being the secret confidant of so romantic a love.

CHAPTER X.

THE LOST ORGAN-TONES.

Mattenheim was the seat of a hearty Rhenish hospitality. There were almost always visitors in the house. The Banker came, and was rejoiced to find Roland so busy and cheerful. Professor Crutius came, and made friendly overtures to Roland; but the latter said,--

"You cannot want my friendship."

The information brought by Crutius concerning the state of affairs in the New World gave rise to many an animated discussion on the great, decisive, protracted struggle between freedom and slavery apparently impending there. Crutius could corroborate from his own observation the statement, that the Southern States were abundantly provided with disciplined officers; for in the military school at West Point, where he had formerly been a teacher, there were many more Southern than Northern students. If the Union succ.u.mbed, if, as was very possible, the slaveholders should conquer, the cause of freedom was wounded to the core. Not only would men lose their faith, but the cause itself would be injured; who knew how deeply or for how long a time?

Soon after Professor Crutius departure, a kind of dulness and dejection was observable in Roland. He did what was required of him; but he wore, for hours together, a fixed and hard expression. Neither to Weidmann nor to Eric did he reveal what was pa.s.sing in his mind. To Knopf alone he confessed his anxieties, making the latter promise that he would tell no one else.

Roland had learned that Dr. Fritz was his father's bitterest foe; he had also accidentally heard Crutius tell Weidmann, that he had no doubt Sonnenkamp was one of the most zealous of the Southern leaders, and would take an active part in the war.

Like a smothered fire which suddenly sends up countless tongues of flame, so did all Roland's anguish revive. Anguish for his father's deeds, for his flight and the elopement of Bella while his mother yet lived, for his mother's death and his own inheritance of sorrow--all these several pains were blended confusedly within him, and his one hope of deliverance seemed annihilated. Lilian is the child of one of his father's most determined enemies, and, if forced to decide, can he take the field against his father?

Roland became desperate. Is there any thing like a righteous moral order in the affairs of this world? No: all is chaos and barbarism.

Knopf knew not how to comfort him, and found it hard to keep his own promise of secrecy.

One day, a bright, cold, bracing winter day, Weidmann crossed the river to close a contract for the supply of railway sleepers, and took Roland with him.

On their return, they found the Rhine full of floating ice. The bells were ringing in the valley and on the hills; the sunset-glow in the heavens, spread in strange waves of light over a background of pale green sky. Griffin stood in the prow of the boat, looking out upon the landscape; and as they made their way, the boatmen pushing aside the blocks of ice, Roland said suddenly,--

"It was just such a day, just such an evening, when Washington crossed the Delaware."

He said no more. Weidmann divined that Roland was wondering why Washington had not abolished slavery immediately on the close of the war; but he turned the subject aside, saying that he thought it one of the finest traits in the great Washington's character, that he was so ready to be convinced of an error.

Roland was startled. What might that mean?

Weidmann continued, "I have left you to yourself, Roland; but now I will tell you the state of your mind. You are involved in doubt and despair; but you are no strong man unless you rise above them."

The young man's eyes dilated, and Weidmann continued,--

"Two things are to be noted. In the first place, you have ceased to believe that the world is under the dominion of moral law, you have lost your faith in that Supreme Being whom we, as well as the Priests, call G.o.d; and, secondly, you believe (and this is worse still),--you believe that you must take upon yourself the expiation of sins which you never committed. You dread the inevitable consequences entailed by every earthly event, and are confused by your fears."

Roland gazed wonderingly at the man who thus calmly and deliberately spoke out his own inmost thought.

Weidmann continued,--