Das landhaus am Rhein. English by Berthold Auerbach
CHAPTER XI.
A REPRESSED HEART.
"What are we, when judged by our most secret thoughts?"
So had Eric written in answer to a dainty note which Bella had writtento him. She had requested him to send the coat in which she had paintedhim, as something peculiar in its cut had yet to be introduced, inorder to give the finishing touch to the portrait. The way in which shehad signed her name startled Eric; there was her name, Bella, butinstead of her surname, an interrogation point between two brackets.She had scratched this out, as if thinking better of it, but it wasstill to be perceived.
She put the coat upon the lay-figure in her studio; it affected herstrangely, and she stood there now, with her hand placed upon theshoulder of the figure.
"What are we, judged by our most secret thoughts?" had Eric written,and it seemed now as if the words came from the mouth of the modelbefore her.
Bella shuddered, and was seized with a deadly trembling, for as shestood there with her gaze fastened upon the floor, and her hand laidupon the garment of the man not her husband, it seemed to her as if sheshould sink to the earth. At this instant, her whole life unfoldeditself to her view.
The days of childhood--there was no definite image of these. Theteachers praised her quick comprehension; a French bonne was dismissed,and a strict English governess received into the family; Bella learnedlanguages easily, and good manners seemed natural to her. Her smartrepartees, when she was very young, were repeated admiringly, and thisflattered her vanity, and extinguished all childish ingenuousness.
Ladies and gentlemen visiting the house, or meeting her casually indifferent places, praised her beauty in her hearing. She was confirmed,but the holy ceremony appeared to her only as the sign of herdeliverance from the nursery, when she must lay aside her short dressesand put on long ones; and when going up to the altar, the thought whichpredominated in her was, Thou art the fairest one. As the bishop hadtaken tea the evening before with her parents, he was not to her asupernatural being as to the rest, for he had spoken familiarly withher, and she appeared to herself to be, in the church, the centralpoint of all observation.
Her father yielded to her wishes, and Bella, at fourteen years of age,was introduced the next winter into society. She made a brilliantappearance, and was much courted; everybody spoke with admiration ofthe air of fresh youth that hovered around her. But she early exhibiteda sort of coldness, so that she was nicknamed the mer-maiden, and inher eye there was what might be called a cold fire. Even the reigningPrince singled her out. She still kept the engagement-card of her firstcourt-ball as a sacred relic, and with it a withered bouquet.
Now followed an unbroken chain of homage and attention. Bella, with herready and apt replies, was the life of the circle in which she moved.While yet a child, her beauty had been praised in her own hearing, andnow that she was a woman, her remarkable mental powers were extolled,either directly or indirectly, so that she was sure to be informed ofit. Her striking remarks and keen criticisms were quoted, and herwitticisms passed around. In this way she had acquired the reputationof great knowledge, which, with her spirited piano playing, and aboveall, her skill in painting, caused her to be regarded as a socialwonder, and to be held up as a pattern to many a young girl who cameout after her in society.
Before she was sixteen, she had refused many offers of marriage, andshe smiled when she heard of the betrothal of one and another, for shecould say, You could have married this man, if you had wished to. Hermother would have been glad to have her married young, but her fatherwas not willing that his child should be separated from him so early;he hoped that some prince of the collateral branch would unite himselfwith her in marriage.
Her seventeenth birthday was ushered in by a morning serenade from theband of the Guards, and congratulations poured in from all sides; butif she could have been seen then, as the tones of the music awakenedher from sleep, and a new thought stirred within her, her large eyeswould have presented a look different from any ever seen in thembefore. The thought was, I have no belief in love. All this singing andtalking of the power of love is nonsensical romance! Her mother'steaching had contributed not a little to produce this conviction; shehad early uprooted the influences of love, perpetually representing toher daughter that the main thing was, to make a brilliant match; andBella, in fact, had never loved any one, for she insisted upon thesubmission of him towards whom she felt any preference. From one of hermother's cousins she heard suggestions of an opposite nature; shefrequently said, half satirically and half seriously, that the onlyright love was that directed towards a man of a lower condition. If youshould love the artist in whose studio you work, or your teacher ofmusic or of language, that would be genuine love. But it seemed toBella as if any special attachment to a teacher was like entertaining alove for a livery-servant, or even for a being of a different species,and choosing him for a husband.
On that seventeenth birthday, there was perceptible, for the firsttime, that cold, glassy, Medusa-look, which regarded men withindifference, as if they were nothing but shadows; but no one remarkedit, and it seemed as if on that day something was paralyzed within herwhich would never again feel the stirrings of life.
Before she was twenty, after the year of mourning for her father hadelapsed, with feelings already cold and benumbed, Bella withdrew fromsociety, entering it only occasionally, as if she were performing aburdensome duty. She studied, she painted, she practised music, sheoccupied herself with artists, scholars, and statesmen; and she wore aconstant rigidity of countenance and look, except when she was flingingaround her criticisms, which always produced a greater impression fromthe fact that her deep, masculine voice was in striking contrast withher feminine appearance.
It created considerable excitement, when it was understood that Bellahad removed the opposition of her parents to her younger sister'smarrying before her. Bella stood before the altar by the side of hersister, and through her sister's bridal veil she saw the dark brown eyeof the Adjutant General, who had been recently made a widower, fixedupon herself. She moved her lips slightly, saying to herself withself-rejoicing pride. You will woo me in vain. She took delight inwounding, disturbing, breaking hearts, by turns enticing and thenrepelling them. She had said to her father, I should be glad to marry,if one can like to do what one cannot bring his mind to do; but tostand up before the altar and say yes, for life and for death!----I wasfrightened when I heard my sister say that, and I thought that I mustcry out, "No! No! No!" And I do not answer for myself, that I shouldnot involuntarily say no.
She proffered herself as companion of an invalid princess, who wasordered to reside for a year at Madeira; on returning, after the deathof the princess at the island, Bella smiled when she was told of theAdjutant General's marriage. She could not complain that suitorsgradually grew fewer in number, but still she was vexed at it.
She took now a journey with two English ladies to Italy and Greece,with Lootz for her courier. She spent a whole winter at Constantinople,and the malicious tongues at the capital said, that she was after a manof exalted position, and that everything else was a matter ofindifference to her; that she would marry a gray-bearded Pacha. On herreturn Bella generally appeared dressed in satin.
Then came Clodwig's suit; and, to the great surprise of the wholecapital, the betrothal and the wedding took place within four weeks ofeach other. Bella retired with her husband to Wolfsgarten, notessentially changed by marriage, and without gaining that fulldevelopment of the nature it gives to woman. What was there still to bedeveloped? She was accomplished, and she was specially happy, so far ashappiness was possible to her, in perceiving--what she had not lookedfor, although she hoped to find it--Clodwig's nobility of soul.
For the first time, she felt humble and modest; her life was peacefuland retired, and the days flowed on in uniform round. Clodwig was asattentive, as sympathizing, and as full of devotion as at first; acomposure and a steadfastness, such as is assigned only t
Clodwig often reproached himself for the firm confidence that he hadentertained during his whole life, that the Idea would, of itself,become realized; and he now saw, when it was too late, that one mustplunge headlong into the current of cooperating influences. As soonas he went again among men, and especially when he entered thecourt-circle, he was always gentle and indulgent. He was full ofadmiration of his wife's talents, and if at any time he moderatelycriticized and set forth her superficial and external mode of lookingat things, she was for an instant inwardly disturbed; but when shelooked upon the noble, refined form of the old man, all frowardnessvanished. She was happy to see herself, and to make the world see, howshe could cherish a great and good man. She knew that she would bewatched; and the world should never have occasion to remark invidiouslyupon her conduct.
All at once there had now entered this peaceful circle a man whodisposed of her, her husband, and the whole house, without effort andwith irresistible power; and she had been opposed to him at first, hadexpressed that opposition to Clodwig, and had zealously labored againsthis becoming established in the neighborhood. But as Clodwig hadbrought into prominent notice, with an enthusiastic kindness of heart,the sterling traits of this man's character, had even drawn him towardsherself against her will, she resigned herself to the pleasure of thisenlivening intercourse.
Thus stood Bella before the portrait to which she still delayed to putthe finishing touch, inwardly chafing, and thoroughly vexed withherself. She, the mature in experience, to be the subject of such agirlish infatuation! "girlish infatuation," she called it, and yet shecould not free herself from it. Was it because her self-love waswounded; was it because, for the first time, she had stretched out herhand and it was not taken?
Her large eyes sparkled, and whoever had beheld her now would have seenthe Medusa-look.
She left the studio with all speed, and went to her dressing-room. Shestood there before the large mirror, and let down her luxuriant hair,staring into the mirror, while upon her closely pressed lips lay thequestion. Art thou then so old? She opened her lips, like one ill withfever, like one parched with thirst, panting to drink. Her eyes beamedwith a joyous brightness, as she said to herself: Thou art beautiful.Thou art able to judge of thyself as impartially as thou wouldest astranger. But what means this silly infatuation?
She took the long tresses of her hair in both hands, and held themcrossed under her chin; she was terrified as she now perceived, for thefirst time, how strong a likeness she bore to the bust of Medusa in theguest-chamber above.
"Yes, I will be Medusa! He shall be shattered, turned into stone,annihilated! He shall kneel to me, and then I will trample him under myfeet!" She raised her foot, but immediately covered her face with bothhands, while tears flowed from her eyes.
"Forgive, forgive my pride, my madness!" was the cry uttered withinher. Fierce irritation and passionate emotion, pride and humility,contended together within her breast, and it seemed as if the chill ofthat morning serenade had been all at once removed, and the heart hadunfolded itself, as some long-closed calyx unfolds its petals. Alonging sprang up within her--a longing for home, as in some waywardchild who has run away from its parents into the woods--a longing forsome place of shelter and rest,--a home: where is it? where?
She yearned for a soul to which she could lay open all her own soul.
"Forgive me! forgive!" was echoed and re-echoed within her. At first itwas directed to Clodwig, and now to Eric.
"Forgive! forgive my pride! But thou canst not know how proud I havebeen: and I sacrificed to thee more than a thousand others, more thanthe whole world, can even conceive and comprehend."
She shuddered at being alone, rang for her dressing-maid, and made anelaborate toilet.
"Tell me how old I am. Do you not know?" she suddenly asked.
The dressing-maid was startled at the question, and not returning animmediate answer, Bella continued:--
"I have never been young."
"O my gracious lady, you are still young, and you never looked betterthan you do now."
"Do you think so?" said Bella, throwing back her head, for a voicewithin her said: Why shouldest thou not be also young for once? Thouart! Thou art what thou canst not help being; and let the world be whatit must be too.
Leaving the house, she went around the garden, seeming to herself to bea captive. Unconsciously she went into the room on the ground-floor,and as she stood near the unearthed antiquities, a voice within hersaid:--
"What are all these? What are these vessels? Lava-ashes! all ashes!What is all this antiquarian rummaging? What is the use of this pickingup of old buried trash, this perpetual thinking and talking abouthumanity and progress? all foreign, dead, a conversation over adeath-bed; nothing but distraction, forgetfulness; no life, no hope, nofuture; never towards the day, always towards the night,--the night ofthe past, and the ideal of humanity. But I am not the past, I am not anideal of humanity. I am the to-day, I will be the today. Ah me, wheream I!" She went into the garden, and watched two butterflies hoveringhither and thither in the air, now alighting upon the flowers, nowcoming together, separating again, and again uniting.
"This is life!" was the cry within her. "This is life! they grub up noancient relics, they live with no antiquities."
Then came a swallow darting down, seized one of the butterflies, andvanished.
What is thy life to thee now, thou poor butterfly?
Below, over the Rhine, clouds of smoke from the steamboats werefloating in the air, and Bella thought:--
"If one could only thus fly away! What do we here? We heat with ourblood this dead earth, so that it may have some little life. Ourlife-breath is nothing but a puff of vapor that mingles with thousandsof other vaporous films; this we call life, and it vanishes like thethousands----"
The children of the laborers upon the estate, coming out of school,saluted the gracious lady.
Bella stared at them. What becomes of these children? What is the useof this fatuous renewing of humanity?
As if to conceal herself from herself, she buried her face in aflowering shrub. She left the park; she saw in the court outside thedove cooing about his mate. The beautiful mate was so coy, picked upits food so quietly, hardly paying any attention to the tendergurgling, and then flew away to the house-top, where she trimmed herfeathers. The dove flew after his mate, but she shook her head againand took flight.
Then as Bella was gazing with a fixed look, she saw a servant yokingsome oxen. He first placed a pad upon the head of the beast, and overthat a wooden yoke.
"This is the world! This is the world," said a voice within her. "A padbetween yoke and head, a pad of thoughts, of got-up feelings."
The servant was astounded to see the gracious lady staring so fixedly,and now she asked him:--
"Does it not hurt them?" He did not understand what she meant, and shewas obliged to repeat the question; he now replied:--
"The ox don't know anything different, he's made for just this. Sincethe gracious Herr has let the double yoke be taken off, and each ox hasnow his own yoke to himself, they're harder to manage, but they draw adeal easier than when they were double-yoked."
Bella shivered.
"Double yoke--single yoke," was sounding in her ears, and suddenly itseemed to her as if it were night, and she herself only a ghostwandering around. This house, these gardens, this world, all is but arealm of shadows that vanishes away.
It was terribly sultry, and Bella felt as if she should suffocate. Thena fresh current of air streamed over the
Bella stood at the window and stared out into the distance, and then upat an old ash-tree, whose branches were dashing about in everydirection, and whose trunk was bending from the gale. The tree inclineditself towards the house, as if it must there get help. Bella thoughtto herself,--For years and years this tree has been rooting itself hereand thriving, and no tempest can wrench it away and lop off its boughs.Does it know that this storm will pass over, and serve only to give itnew strength? I am such a tree also, and I stand firm. Come tempest,come lightning and thunder, come beating rain, neither shall you uprootme, nor lop off my boughs!
"Eric!" she suddenly exclaimed aloud to herself. Clodwig now entered,saying,--
"Dear wife, I have been looking for you."
Bella's soul was deeply moved when she heard him call her "dear wife."Clodwig showed her a letter that he had been writing to the Professor'swidow, inviting her, according to Bella's expressed desire, to make avisit of several weeks at Wolfsgarten.
"Don't send the letter," said she abruptly, "let us again be quietly byourselves; I would rather not be disturbed now by the Dournay family."
Clodwig expressed his opinion that the noble lady, so far frominterfering with their quiet, would be an additional element ofbeautiful companionship, and would be the means of their seeing Eric ina pleasant way.
The storm had ceased, and when Bella opened the window, a refreshingbreeze drew in. She held the letter in her hand; it had been tempest,lightning, rain, and thunder that raged to-day in her soul, and nowthere was refreshing life. She agreed with her husband; she said toherself, that intercourse with the noble woman would restore her toherself; and for a moment the thought occurred to her that she wouldconfess all to the mother, and be governed by her. Then came thethought that this was not necessary; it would be very natural for Ericto come to Wolfsgarten, and her intercourse with him would fall backinto the old peaceful channels.
Bella wrote a short postscript to the letter of her husband; and theDoctor also, who came in just as they were closing the letter, added afew words.