Villa Eden: The Country-House on the Rhine

CHAPTER V.

THE CONFESSION OF A WORLDLING

At the very time that Sonnenkamp was entering the palace, Pranken was going into the deanery; he was detained a few minutes by the passing soldiery, he had to salute many a comrade covered with dust, on foot and on horseback. He was going to that quarter of the city wherein resounded no clang of military music; here all was still, as if everything were holding its breath, except that in the church the organ notes were still swelling. He went in, he saw the Dean, a large powerful man, just returning into the sacristy. Pranken sat awhile in a pew, until he felt sure that the Dean had reached his house; then he left the church. The servant was standing in the open door; he said that the reverend gentleman requested Pranken to walk in and wait a few moments. He was shown up the staircase; it was a fine large staircase of the old chapter house. At the top, a young priest who was just coming out was shutting the door very quietly, even reverently; the young priest came down the left staircase while Pranken went up the right.

Pranken had to wait awhile in the large room where an open book lay on the table. He looked into it; it was a scheme of ecclesiastical preferments; he smiled. Good, the priests, like the military, have a printed list, too. This simile gave him new courage.

The Dean entered; he had a book in his hand, between the leaves of which he had inserted his forefinger. He saluted Pranken, making a gesture with the book, and begged him to sit down; he offered him a seat on the sofa, and seated himself opposite him in a chair on casters.

"What do you bring, Herr Baron?"

With a peculiar smile, Pranken answered that he brought nothing, but on the other hand came to get something. The priest nodded, looked into the book once more at the place where he had his finger inserted, and laying it aside said: —

"I am ready."

Pranken began to explain, that he had chosen the Dean in preference to any one else, to be his confessor in an affair which only a man of noble birth could properly appreciate and give advice about. The Dean grasped his chin with his left hand, and said with great decision, that after ordination and the new birth there was no longer any nobility; he had no different power from that of the son of the poorest day-laborer.

Pranken felt that he had made a mistake at the outset, and went on to say in a very humble way, that above all things he regarded the priestly dignity as the highest, but that still it was well known that the very worthy Dean knew something about the circumstances of life which he wished to lay before him. Then he gave a concise account of his past life; it was that of a son of a noble family until his acquaintance with Sonnenkamp. At this point he went somewhat into detail, and confessed that his thinking of Manna as his wife. Manna the daughter of the millionaire, was at first nothing more than a jest, a pastime. He related how Manna had unexpectedly entered the convent; and with great earnestness he declared that it was Manna that had wakened in him the knowledge of the higher life. He dwelt particularly on his momentary determination to become a priest; but he was now of another way of thinking; he was still too worldly in his views, but he hoped, however, in union with Manna, to lead a life devoted to the highest of ail interests.

With quiet attention, frequently closing his eyes, and again opening them quickly, the Dean listened to the story.

At last Pranken paused, and the reverend father said: —

"That, I suppose, is the introduction. I must now tell you on my part that I know this Herr Sonnenkamp and his daughter. I was staying not long ago with a brother priest in the town which is part of the same parish with Villa Eden – is not the place so called? I have seen the maiden; it was then reported that she was going to become a nun. I have also seen the park and the house; everything is very stately, very beautiful. And now I beg of you, proceed and tell me, without any further digression, what you wish from me."

Pranken went on to say rapidly, that in conjunction with the Cabinetsrath he had brought matters to such a point that Sonnenkamp was at this very hour receiving a patent of nobility.

Again he paused, but the Reverend father asked no more questions, but simply looked at him inquiringly.

Fastening his gaze upon the table-cover, Pranken now went on to tell what he knew of Sonnenkamp's past life; he had, up to this moment, believed that he might regard it with indifference, but at the present time – just since yesterday – when Sonnenkamp and his family were to be made of equal rank with himself, it let him rest no longer.

"I don't understand you," said the Dean. "Do you find yourself overburdened in your conscience, because you, although you knew what the man is, still endeavored successfully to procure for him an honorable and distinguished preferment? in a word, his elevation to the rank of noble?"

"Yes and no," replied Pranken, "I am not clear on that point. I could say that I am innocent, for I have never been asked my opinion on the matter, and still-"

"Go on, I think you are on the right path; 'and still' – you were going to say."

Pranken resumed his speech like a pupil in examination, and collecting his thoughts said: —

"Thank Heaven that there are living beings sent into the world; to whom we can and must tell what we do not acknowledge to ourselves. I must still, however, confess that my open and undisguised relation to Herr Sonnenkamp is perhaps something more than an expression of an opinion."

"Right, quite right! You have come to me then, to learn, at the very last hour, what you ought to do?"

"To tell the honest truth, no. I simply wished to have you give me something, an injunction of some sort to ease this constant torment and fear of discovery."

"Wonderful world!" rejoined the Priest. "Wonderful world! You would like to live in sinful enjoyment, and still, at the same time receive an 'absolving benediction.'"

Pranken's thoughts wandered involuntarily to Nelly's house near by, but with a powerful effort he called back his thoughts.

Both men said nothing for a short time; then the Dean asked: —

"Does this Herr Sonnenkamp know that you are acquainted with his past life?"

"O no, and he must never know it."

Again there was a long pause.

From the cathedral near by came the stroke of noon; the bells rang out the Angelus, the Priest rose and said a low prayer; Pranken did the same. They seated themselves again, but neither spoke. Pranken was becoming indignant; he was angry with himself for having come here; however, there was no help for it now; with repressed anger he said at last: —

"Very Reverend sir, I have confessed everything to you now; I beg of you to advise me."

"Should I advise you to forsake Herr Sonnenkamp and your bride?"

Pranken shrank back.

The Dean proceeded, rising, and walking up and down the parlor: – "That is the way with you. You will have advice, you children of worldly pleasure, but only such advice as enjoins no privation upon you; you will have such counsel only as enables you to accomplish your purpose, whatever it may be, with a pacified conscience. You want mustard for the digestion of heavy dinners, do you not?" said he, turning round suddenly.

His eyes sparkled.

"Reverend sir," said Pranken, in a tremor, "bid me forsake Herr Sonnenkamp and Manna, and I promise you that I will do it forthwith. Only think what will become of the maiden, and shall not what has been so earned be used for higher-"

"Stop!" said the Dean, interrupting him, and extending his hand with a gesture of rebuke, knitting his brows and pressing his lips tight together. "You think that you can bribe us with these millions? You are another of those, who, with outward veneration, still believe within themselves the clergy want nothing but money, nothing but power. No, we want none of your money, so won by marriage or inheritance!"

The Priest was standing at the window, looking up at the sky, in which dark clouds were gathering; he seemed to have quite forgotten that Pranken was there, and the latter finally said to him, —

"Reverend sir, do you wish me to withdraw?"

The Priest turned round quickly and said, motioning with his left hand, —

"Sit down – sit down."

Pranken obeyed.

"Now I will tell you something. What you have done to the nobility, for you have done it, and not simply allowed it to happen, is your concern and that of the nobility; for us, your grades of honor are matters of no moment. Whether a man is a commoner or a noble, it is all the same to us. But I tell you this" – the Priest hesitated, and resting his elbow in the hollow of his right hand took hold of his chin with his left; he seemed to be arranging his words with quiet deliberation – "I tell you this: you must be true now, you must not forsake this man and his daughter. You must share everything with them, whatever the worldly honors may bring; you must consider yourself as linked to them, and thank God in humbleness of heart that you have an opportunity of devoting yourself, and leading your new family to the pure and noble sacrifice of self."

Pranken started up, kissed the Priest's hand, and exclaimed, —

"I will, I promise you. Keep your eye on me; you shall see that I will go through with whatever you enjoin upon me."

"Go then, and God be with you; you have a heavier burden to carry than you now think for. Go, and God be with you."

He laid his hand on the Baron's head; Pranken turned away, and full of humility descended the staircase; at the bottom he gave the soldier a brotherly shake of the hand.

After Pranken had gone, the soldier kept looking at his hand, and then, searching on the floor; he could not imagine that the free and easy Pranken had not given him a gold piece. No, that would have made a ringing; he must surely have given him paper money; but he could not find it on the clean stone-floor.

As if he had anticipated the soldier's thoughts, Pranken returned, and departed after putting a gold piece into his hand.

He came by Nelly's house, where yesterday – it seemed to him a dream – no, it cannot be! – he had waited an hour. He glanced up, and thought he saw some one leaning at the open window, whose eyes followed him; he fixed his look upon the ground, and passed on.

He came to the parade-ground, listened to the music, saw the officers standing in a group, and – who can calculate the sinuous course of thought? – he thought that the watchword was now being given out to the officers; and he had a watchword too, which no one else was to know, given to him by the man behind the cathedral, who had dashed him down as if he would break every one of his bones. A smile went over Pranken's features.

"Thou hast played well, but thou hast only played," he said, recalling to mind the Dean. "You shall see that I can play well too; I know my part, and I will yet show you a little of my skill in playing."

Pride again rose within him, and he could not comprehend that he, Otto von Pranken, had been such a mortified piece of humility. But it is very well to have been so once.

He came to the Hotel Victoria in a half-humble, half-conceited mood, and he now felt a real training-day hunger. Such mental emotions have this advantage, that they make one hungry.

Pranken anticipated with a feeling of satisfaction his dinner with the Baron, his father-in-law.

As he stood at Sonnenkamp's door and was about to ring, he heard some one inside saying in a loud tone: —

"But Where's Herr von Pranken?"

"Here!" cried he, as he went in.

CHAPTER VI.

HONOR LIES BLEEDING

Sonnenkamp's decoration was lying at Pranken's feet as he entered, and the first thing he did was to stoop down and pick it up. Joseph left the room. Pranken balanced the decoration as if it were a heavy weight. Sonnenkamp seemed to be waiting for Pranken to speak first, and when the latter said, "I congratulate you," broke in: —

"No, no – do not. I thank you for coming to me again. I thank you sincerely – very sincerely. You meant well by me."

"What's this? Meant well? I don't comprehend."

Sonnenkamp stared at him; the whole city, the coachmen on the streets knew it, and can this man be ignorant? Does he want to gull him?

"Have you read the Journal?" inquired Sonnenkamp.

"The Journal! No; what's in that?"

Sonnenkamp reached him the paper.

"Here – my diploma of nobility," he said, turning round and looking out of the window while Pranken was reading. He did not want to look at the man's countenance.

There was a long-continued silence in the room, and then Sonnenkamp felt a hand upon his shoulder. He turned round quickly. What's the meaning of this? will the haughty young nobleman have a personal struggle with him?

"Herr Sonnenkamp," said Pranken, "I am a nobleman-"

"I know – I know. Take your hand off of me, you'll soil it."

"And I am your friend," proceeded Pranken calmly. "I cannot approve of what you have done to provoke such a publication."

"Be brief, I've already heard sermonizing enough to-day."

"Herr Sonnenkamp, I always go counter to the public sentiment; I respect you, notwithstanding, and I love your daughter. I am almost glad that I can show you by a sacrifice how my intention-"

"Herr von Pranken, you do not know what you are doing. Your friends, your family-"

"I know the whole. Pooh! the virtuous people may let the stones alone which they would willingly throw at us. Whoever merely winks with the eye shall receive my challenge."

"I admire your courage, but I cannot take advantage of it."

"Not take advantage of it! You have no right to decline it. I am your son as well as Roland; I stand by you, and now it shall be shown who has genuine nobility and bravery. I admire you – but we'll drop this now. Has Roland got back yet?"

"No."

"Then he has gone with the Ensign to the dinner. I will go for him."

Sonnenkamp looked at him in amazement as he drove off; he could not comprehend it. He was now alone again. He mentally accompanied the messengers he had sent round the city, and out to the pleasure-grounds. His thought went out in search of Roland, but did not find him, any more than the messengers did. Roland had gone with the Cabinetsrath's son, as Pranken had conjectured, to the military club-house, where a number of the garrison officers, after the laborious review of the forenoon, had ordered a dinner. There was a great deal of merriment and drinking, and they drank the young American's health. Roland was one of the liveliest among them. There came in a straggling guest, and cried, out in the midst of the uproar, —

"Have you heard? The slave-trader has been caught with a paper lasso."

"What's to pay?" was, called out.

The new-comer read out of the paper: —

"A proposal, with all due deference, for a coat of arms and a device for the ennobled slave-trader and slave-murderer, James Henry Sonnenkamp, alias Banfield, of Louisiana.

"It would give us peculiar satisfaction to run a parallel between the young nobility in the two hemispheres; to live on the labor of others is their motto; 'thou art born to do nothing,' say the young nobility of the Old as well as of the New World. The Americans have also a superstitious belief that there is some peculiar honor in being ennobled. Not because we share in this belief, but rather in order to do something towards removing it, we have written to America for information about a certain Herr Sonnenkamp. We have hitherto been silent, and we should have been silent longer and forever, out of regard for the children of this outcast, for they do not deserve to bear the load of guilt. We are no friends of the nobility: we regard this institution as of the past and as dead; but the nobles are our German fellow-citizens, also, and a part of our nation. As citizens, merely, we have no power to thrust out a man from our community, and we should have felt obliged to let this man alone; but now, we are ready to furnish the evidence that the man who calls himself Sonnenkamp, and lives at Villa Eden, has been one of the most merciless slave-traders and slave-murderers. Then proceed, O German nobles, and ennoble him, – give him a coat-of-arms. The heralds of our editorial office recommend as a device-"

"Stop!" screamed out the Ensign, for Roland had fallen senseless from his chair.

He was carried out of the room, and restored to consciousness. Fortunately, a carriage now drove up, from which Pranken got out. Roland was lifted into it, and they drove to the hotel.

Shaking with a fever fit, and wrapped up in a soldier's cloak, Roland sat in one corner of the carriage. He would occasionally open his eyes, and then close them again.

Pranken told him that he ought to despise the world, but Roland was silent; once only he heaved a deep sigh and exclaimed, —

"O Eric!" They reached the hotel. Joseph was waiting before the door. The first word that Roland spoke was a request to be left alone. He went up the steps with Joseph.

"You are to go to your father," said Joseph.

Roland nodded, but when he had gone up-stairs he hastened to his room and locked the door.

Joseph went to Sonnenkamp and told him that Roland had returned.

"He is to come to me," he said.

"He has locked himself in."

"Has he his pistols with him?"

"No, I have them with me."

Sonnenkamp went to Roland's room and knocked; but there was no answer. He begged and entreated Roland to answer him, but Roland made no sound.

"If you do not open immediately, I will shoot myself before your door!" cried Sonnenkamp.

Pranken, who was with him, said: —

"Roland! Roland! will you be guilty of the death of your father?"

"Open! open!" moaned Sonnenkamp before the door.

The bolt was drawn back, and Roland stood rigid, looking at his father, who stretched out his arms toward him; but Roland remained motionless, with lips pressed together, and eyes glaring like one insane.

"My son!" cried Sonnenkamp. "My only son! my beloved son! my child! forgive me! forgive me!"

Roland rushed toward his father, grasped his hand, and wept over it.

"Oh, my child, your tears on my hand! Look, – this wound, this scar, – look, the tears of my child heal it, the tears of my child alone!"

Throwing himself upon Roland's breast, he exclaimed: —

"You, my son, you will not despise your father!"

While he spoke, his heart throbbed violently, and, for the first time in his life, Roland saw his father weep. He embraced him and wept with him.

Father and son then sat opposite each other speechless and motionless, until at last Roland said: —

"Father, there is one way of salvation – only one way of salvation!"

"I am ready, speak, my son."

"I know it, father – I know it! That sublimest One said to the youth, 'Go and give away all that thou hast, and follow me.' And Parker has said that this disgrace must be wiped out; and Benjamin Franklin would say: 'Thou art free, be not a slave to thyself!' Cast all away from you, father, let us be poor – poor! Will you?"

"I thank you, my son," replied Sonnenkamp; he was easier when he saw that Roland had relieved his feelings. "You have a stout heart, a bold spirit, you have noble courage; Herr Eric has taught you well – grand – brave – I thank him – I thank you – that is fine – that is right – the best!"

"Then you agree to it, father?"

"My son, I do not wish to make any pledges – not any; but I promise you, that you shall be satisfied with what I shall do; just in this moment I cannot determine anything."

"No, now; this very moment! it is the grandest, the only moment! It must be done now! After this moment is death, night, damnation, distraction, misery! Oh, father, you must be strong! I will work for you, for my mother, for Manna, for myself! And Eric will be with us! I know not what can be done, but it will-do cast everything away from you!"

"My son, whatever I have of unrighteous possessions, so called, those I will put away. I consider you, my son, no longer in your minority, you are more, you are my brother, you are a man, you are judge of my actions, you are to give your directions – everything with you, through you, out of your pure, your blessed heart, out of your unbroken – yes, your friend Eric, our friend Eric, shall also determine – but let us not come to the final determination at this moment."

And again father and son sat opposite to each other in silence, until Roland began: —

"Father, let us go home to-day."

"No, not to-day. We must both, first of all, get some strength."

Pranken had withdrawn into the adjoining room; he now sent Joseph to say that it was time for dinner. Roland was shocked at the idea of eating anything now; but Sonnenkamp swore that he would not put a morsel into his mouth, although he was almost famishing, if Roland did not sit with them at table, and eat at least a few mouthfuls. Roland yielded.

The Cabinetsrath's place was empty, showing what henceforth would be wanting to their table-enjoyment. Pranken beckoned to Joseph, who understood what he meant and quickly removed the plate.

Sonnenkamp now said that he expected the Cabinetsrath would probably give up the Villa he had received; and Roland now learned how bribery had been employed, and how corrupt and selfish men were. Sonnenkamp took particular notice what an impression this made upon Roland, and a triumphant expression passed over his countenance. It's well so! Roland is to become acquainted with the whole baseness of human beings, to find out that all people are more or less abject, and then what his father has done will gradually seem to him of less account, and be painted in fainter colors.