Villa Eden: The Country-House on the Rhine

Oh, how much I have gone through, how much I have been forced to suffer! Nothing harder can ever befall me.

As we buried him in the earth, and covered him over with heaths, I wept over a man whose vast powers had led him astray. What would have been his fate, if-

Here I was interrupted in the midst of my writing. Since those lines were penned, I have buried another corpse.

I was called to Adams, who had neglected having his wounds attended to, and now it was too late. He asked after me. I stood at his bed-side, and with a last exertion of strength, he asked me; —

"Herr Major, can any one steal a thing like that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Can a man like that belong to our order, and have the sign?"

"You see that he can."

"What do the brethren have swords for then? Why did I not – " cried he, gnashing his teeth.

He clenched his fists, raised himself up, and then sank back. His savage nature, which had been only repressed and held in constraint, broke out in the last death-struggle.

Oh, I can write nothing more. I have been deceived in myself. I believed myself fortified against everything, but I am not. I beg you, dear Herr Weidmann, to inform my mother of the death of Manna's and Roland's father.

If I could only go to sleep, if I could only rest!

[Postscript in Manna's hand-writing.]

This letter, written thus far, was found in my Eric's pocket when he was drawn from under his horse's hoofs. In his excited, and, in fact, delirious state, he had mounted his horse, thinking he was going into battle. He was thrown. I send the letter. He does not yet recognize any one, and is still delirious, but the physician gives me some hope.

I shall keep the letter until I can give some more favorable tidings.

Three days later.

My husband says that he finds invigoration in thinking of you. I have also to-day written to the Mother.

[Manna to the Professorin.]

Mother, he is saved! All anxiety has fled. He is saved! He was down with a fever days and nights, and did not recognize me; he knew my dogs, Rose and Thistle, but not me. But once he exclaimed: —

"Oh, the harp-tones!"

I telegraphed at once to New York for my harp to be sent to me; the telegraphist told me of a woman in the place who had a harp; she lived alone, and her lot had been a hard one, as she had learned after her marriage that her husband had another wife living. I went to see the woman, and this woman is the mother of my Heimchen. The Superior had written to her of the love of her child for me, and I had to relate many things to the mother. And now – yes, we are always living in the midst of wonders! Heimchen gave to me the harp from which the tones are to come that will give my husband rest.

I stationed myself in the next room, and with the physician's consent, I played upon the harp. Eric went to sleep, and when he waked, said: —

"Why does not Manna come?"

The physician forbade my entering the room, as it was important he should receive no violent shock. And so I could see him only when his eyes were closed, until at last the surgeon gave his permission.

In the wanderings of fever he always saw me as I was in the convent when I had on the wings, and he spoke French and laughed at sister Seraphine. The shock of my father's death had affected Eric so deeply, that, as the physician told me, he had been for a long time without an hour's sleep.

Sedatives were given to Eric, but they seemed to be attended with some risk, and had to be discontinued. Then there was another battle. All besought him to keep quiet, as he had already distinguished himself so highly; but he mounted his horse and rode off. The horse stumbled and threw him headlong, and he was taken up for dead and carried into the hospital. I received the news and hastened hither. Everything is going on well now, but he is still very weak.

But he begged me, and it is just like him, to confer the pleasure upon the rest of the wounded, so I have to play the harp for hours together. It is an unspeakable refreshment to the patients, and the surgeons assert that the wounds heal more rapidly, on account of the cheerful state of mind thereby induced. And when I come back to Eric, and the surgeon tells him how beneficial the music is to the sick, his countenance lights up. He speaks but little; he holds my hand silently, and only says that he has, during his life, talked too much. But, mother, you may feel easy.

Eric wants to be allowed to write a word to you.

(In a trembling hand was written as follows:)

Thy living, loving, beloved son Eric.

(Then in Manna's hand-writing:)

Don't be alarmed at these unsteady strokes. The physician says that all danger is over, and nothing is needed but absolute rest.

Oh, mother! How can I adequately thank the Eternal Spirit that my Eric lives; that I am not a widow, and that a life is not made fatherless from its very birth? Be easy; I remain strong, and I have a threefold duty in living.

[Manna to Professor Einsiedel.]

I was called in the hospital to a prisoner from the Southern army, severely wounded, who had heard my harp-playing. He asked about me, and was told that I was a German. The man related to me that he had an uncle in Germany, who had been a book-keeper in a large banking establishment. One evening when his uncle was at the theatre, he robbed him and fled. I told him that I had become acquainted with such a man through you at Carlsbad, that is to say, I had seen him; I gave as good a description of him as I could. The wounded man asserted that it was his uncle, and begged me to write to him that he repented of what he had done. He had always hoped that he should become wealthy some day, so as to return and make full restitution; this could not be realized now, as he must die poor; but he desired that his uncle should know of his repentance.

You will impart all this to the man.

[Eric to his mother.]

In the midst of the wanderings of my fever, I kept saying to myself: Thou hast promised thy mother to return home safe and sound. Thou must not be ill, must not die. Thou must keep thy word. And this thought was ever by me, sometimes making me quiet, sometimes restless. I was forever thinking that I could certainly do something to force nature to remove the shadows, the heaviness, the dullness which weighed me down. There were two souls in me. And once I very plainly heard you saying to me: Keep perfectly quiet; you are undermining your life with your perpetual thinking; for once let thinking alone. And then I was standing on the stage at the music festival to sing, but I could not bring out a solitary note. I have gone through a great deal of suffering, but I am now in perfectly good spirits.

[Doctor Fritz to Weidmann.]

A strange riddle has been solved by means of Eric's being wounded, an account of which was given in the newspapers in connection with the victory. A small, delicate-looking old man came to me, who addressed me in German, but with difficulty, showing that he had probably not made use of the language for many years. He asked me if I was acquainted with a Major Dournay. I said yes, and after a great deal of trouble, I succeeded in finding out that this was Eric's uncle, a man of very great wealth. He wanted to know all about the family, and especially whether, his sister Claudine was yet living. Luckily, Knopf could tell him all the particulars.

[Eric to his mother.]

Mother! My uncle has been found! Through my fall from the horse, but yet more through Manna's playing on the harp, that was spoken of in the newspapers as some marvellous tale, my uncle came to see Dr. Fritz. My uncle visited me while I was very ill, and I thought that I had seen my father. They tell me that I became so excited that my life was again endangered, and they had to withhold the news until I had wholly recovered. I showed your letter to my uncle, and the old man, who has heard nothing from Europe for ten years, wept bitterly. He will go back to Europe with us.

[Knopf to Fassbender.]

The classic age had great, noble, heroic forms, but it had no uncle in America. And how did the world before Columbus' day get on without any uncles in America? I think that our good Lord, as he rested on the seventh day, dreamed, in his mid-day sleep, of the uncle in America, meditated, and created him.

My friend, Major Dournay, has now found his uncle with a fortune; I don't know how much it is, but a large one, and all honorably earned. Now he is himself put in a position to solve the riddle of what should be done with so much money. He will not build my music hall, but he will do something else that's great.

[Doctor Fritz to Weidmann.]

Two children are born to us. Manna has a son, and Frau Knopf a daughter. I was with Knopf when his daughter was born, and when he saw her face the first time, he exclaimed aloud: —

"Pure Caucasian race!"

Then he acknowledged to me, that in spite of his liking for the negroes, he had always feared that his Rosalie's child would be black, because she had black children so constantly around her, since she had been their teacher with him. And now he is delighted that his daughter, who is to be named Manna Erica, is a pure Caucasian, and he merrily extols the late which has decreed that the first-born of the girls' teacher shall be a girl.

Manna's child has received the name of Benjamin Alphonso. Uncle Alphonso is god-father; he has, in his will, divided his property equally between his sister Claudine and his brother's son, and already transferred one-half of it. He means to go to Europe with his nephew, but I do not think the good little man will live long. I have already told you that my daughter Lilian sought out our young Roland in the enemy's country, and rescued him. Roland is still very weak, but his youthful vigor will restore him.

The great war is drawing to a close, and with the rejoicings over victory we shall celebrate Roland's and Lilian's wedding. They are to remain here with us.

Roland has borne himself bravely. We are to use the greater part of his property to buy land for the negroes, furnish them with all necessary supplies, and establish schools for them.

[Eric to his mother.]

Mother! Grandmother! all is well. Ah, what more is there to say? After all our suffering we are happy. And, mother, I am coming, coming home with my wife and child, and Uncle Alphonso. The waves will bear us up, the ship will carry us, the land will stand firm, and, mother, I shall hold you in my arms again, and lay my child in your arms; we shall live and work.

[Eric to Weidmann.]

We have entered Richmond with our black regiment.

The noblest experience has been mine: I have been allowed to take part in the greatest struggle of our country.

Slavery is no more.

Now let the gentlemen in gowns and bands come, and show us heretics a deed which shall bear such mighty consequences as this.

Later.

Read this! A murder, an assassination! Why was it not to be? Why can nothing be carried out purely to perfection? Lincoln assassinated!

Does it not often seem as if a malicious demon ruled the world?

This deed is a standing proof of how far the supporters of an aristocracy, the defenders of a privileged class, the deniers of human rights, have sunk into barbarism. In future days such wickedness will not be believed; but now it stands plainly before us as assassination, and not the deed of a single individual; it is the work of a sworn band of conspirators.

The fanaticism of the Southern States had burst forth in war, now it has its seal of blood.

[Knopf to Weidmann.]

Our friend Dournay's uncle is dead; he was ill, and the news of the assassination of President Lincoln killed him.

Eric, Manna, and their child are going home.

[Eric to Professor Einsiedel.]

What I am now interested in arranging is not the filling out of my own life, the new calling into which I have entered. It is the torment attendant on the self-renovation of the modern mind, that doubts and questions immediately set themselves in opposition to action.

I want to establish a refuge for laborers in the intellectual field, but the question comes up to me: —

Is not this a direct contradiction to the spirit of this modern age?

Is not the desire for solitude a necessary part of that free individual life which is our noblest characteristic?

Could I imagine a Lessing, in his old age, in this house of refuge which I would found?

Is not the quiet communion with one's self, which is our most precious treasure, destroyed or banished by living in such close relations with others?

I think that it is not, and only those who pine for rest shall enter the home.

I beg you not to consider this as the roof of my life-building; it is to be only a merry green bough which I would set up.

[Eric to Weidmann.]

This letter goes only three days before us to Europe, to the Rhine.

I am coming home.

Deliver the enclosed legal document to the proper authorities.

I herein declare that only a life interest is retained in Villa Eden for myself and Manna, my wife. I herein declare the house, the garden, the park, as described in the Registry office, and a sufficient sum, hereafter to be determined, irrevocably assigned for the maintenance of deserving scientific men and artists.

My friend and teacher, Professor Einsiedel, is commissioned to draw up the rules regulating the admission and the mode of life of those who are to be inmates of Villa Eden.

My wish is, that there should be a peaceful refuge for deserving intellectual labor, a home for voluntary work, in VILLA EDEN, THE COUNTRY HOUSE ON THE RHINE.

(P.S.) I have promised Roland, if I live until the year 1887, to come back here to celebrate the hundredth birthday of the American Republic. Then will we see and compare what each of us has accomplished in his father-land and for his fellow-men.