CHAPTER XIII.
IN THE BOND OF BROTHERHOOD.
"The bees we brought from Europe are flying out into the spring air," wrote Lilian from New York.
At Mattenheim, also, spring was close at hand. Out-door work became pressing; sunshine and hail followed one another in swift succession; but the buds were swelling, and verdure refreshed the eye. In the new shoots, or sleeping eyes, as they are called, choice grafts were set, that the tree henceforward might bear richer fruit. The same thing was to take place elsewhere.
One evening, when they were all together at Mattenheim, Weidmann read a letter from Doctor Fritz, in which he described the base league of the so-called Knights of the Golden Circle. A network of their societies extended over all the Southern States, and they had their accomplices even in the North.
They conducted a kind of criminal court by means of signs; and murders and secret executions without number were accomplished by their means.
He added that if one wanted to realize the entire range of man's capabilities, both for virtue and vice, he had but to offset against this band a character like Seward's.
While they were still pondering upon this intelligence, a letter with the royal seal arrived, containing expressions of high consideration for Weidmann, together with the Prince's request that he would inform young Sonnenkamp Banfield that no obstacle existed to his entering the military service, and that especial pains would be taken to show the young man, personally, all due regard.
"It cannot be," said Roland with a fixed look. "Too late!"
He expressed his gratitude, however, for the kindness of the Prince, and added with an accent of deep pain, that it was a comfort to know that the privilege of fellowship was restored to him.
"You shall have one of a different kind," said Weidmann. "You shall be received with your brother and friend, the Herr Captain, into our Order. Strictly speaking, you are too young; but we will show you how much we honor you."
In the evening, it rained steadily; and as Weidmann lay beside the window, gazing out upon the landscape, he called Roland to his side, and said,—
"These are pleasant hours, my son, in which we can look out of the window, and know that the rain is quickening and refreshing all things. A spirit who has awakened and refreshed the souls of many men, a benefactor who has renovated the being of numbers of his fellow-creatures, must experience in tranquil and elevated hours a similar joy. Rejoice that this happiness may be yours also. If I am not here to welcome you back from the war, know that I feel this on your behalf, and be thankful for it."
"Is the crisis, then, so near?"
"Yes. I have by me a letter from my nephew, and I tell you that the time has come."
Roland shuddered. He seized Weidmann's arm, and held it fast.
Weidmann continued,—
"My nephew writes, it is true, that they think the war will not last long; and that those who have enlisted hope to return to their homes in a few weeks. I think otherwise. You will be quite early enough for the great struggle. Rejoice that you are prepared for it beforehand."
Roland hastened to Eric; and the latter said,—
"Give me your hand, Roland: I go with you!"
Adams approached them with flashing eyes, and cried,—
"We will all go,—all."
They embraced one another, as though the world's deliverance had arrived.
They passed a sleepless night; and, on the morrow, Roland and Eric rode to the Villa. They made known their resolution, and Manna responded,—
"I shall go too."
But she gave Eric a look which was perfectly intelligible to him; for it said, "You approve, then, of the son's taking the field against the father."
Eric told her that he had sent by way of Paris a notice to the Confederate journal which Sonnenkamp had designated, couched in terms which he alone would understand, to the effect that Roland would join the land-forces of the Union, hoping that he should not encounter his father, who was probably in the naval service.
Eric found it difficult to restrain Roland, and to convince him that days must elapse before their departure. They went together to the Major, who said,—
"It is all right! Now you must join! Brother Weidmann told me long since that you were to be initiated before engaging in this philanthropic struggle. And now let me tell you that our bond is especially effective in war. You will receive a sign; and, if you make that sign, no enemy, even though his weapon were raised against you, can kill you face to face; and you cannot kill any one who gives you this sign. Yes, my dear brothers, I must begin to call you so, all the good in this world has been wrought by Freemasons; for those who have wrought it have all been Freemasons at heart, if not in reality. But I'll say no more. Brother Weidmann will tell you all. Now go! I must be off to the castle. It has come at last."
Once up at the castle, the Major wandered about, saying to himself, over and over again,—
"If the Builder of all the worlds will only suffer me to hold together! I want this and one thing more, and then I shall be satisfied!"
Men are coming and going; workmen are hammering; the Major's long cherished wish is fulfilled. There is to be a great Masonic celebration at the castle, and what a celebration! Eric, Roland, and Adams are to be received into the order.
From all the surrounding country, men came flocking to the castle. The Major went with Roland, the Architect with Adams, the Banker, who, with his daughter-in-law, was visiting at Villa Eden, accompanied Eric. At the castle, the three separated, and each was taken into a room by himself. Presently the Major came to Roland, and took away all the money and jewelry he had about him. Shortly after, men appeared who bandaged the eyes of each of the candidates. They were then conducted through long passages, up stairs and down, until they seemed to emerge into the open air. At last, they were told to stop, and sternly reproved for venturing to intrude here; but they remained firm.
Roland was comforted by the sound of Weidmann's voice, although it seemed to come from a great distance. The latter said that their being led blindfold by friends who saw, signified that they must learn to trust those who were pledged to afford them guidance and protection in life. Voices now called out, that it was time to removed the bandages.
"No," cried a powerful voice: "Roland, I cannot admit you."
Roland did not know this voice. What did it mean? What was required of him?
"Back, back! you stand on the brink of an abyss!" was shouted on all sides.
Roland's knees shook. The first voice continued,—
"Roland, are you ready to renounce all that you now possess, or will ever call your own, to become naked, poor, and helpless as you were by nature? Will you relinquish all your wealth, whether justly or unjustly acquired? Speak!"
"Speak, speak!" cried a chorus of voices. "Will you become poor?"
"Speak!" the voices repeated; and the question was asked for the third time, "Will you renounce all, and become naked, poor, and helpless?"
"No. I will not!"
A pause ensued: then Weidmann said in a re-assuring tone, "And why not?"
"Because it is not my duty, and I have no right to relinquish what was intrusted to me,—to transfer my responsibilities even to the highest and noblest. I am required myself to watch and work."
"Where is your obedience? Can you be a soldier, a fighter in the cause of humanity, and not obey? Do you know what obedience is?"
"I think I do. I am ordered, for my part of the great campaign, to hold a certain post, and I pledge my life that I will be faithful without knowing why I am stationed just there. This is a soldier's duty, as I understand it. But in life it seems to me different. What right have you, more than another, to say, 'Intrust your possessions to us, that we may dispose of them as we think fit'? Here I stand, with I know not whom about me: I only know the voice of my noble friend Weidmann, and him I trust: Wherever he is, I will take my place at his side, and stand there blindfold. My eyes are bandaged; but I can look within, and I know that I am in duty bound, according to my strength and my wisdom, with the free assistance of others, to make the best of my life and endowments; but I will not give myself and my life away blindfold. Take me back! Reject me if I am wrong; but I cannot do otherwise."
"Off with the bandages! Off with the bandages!" was now vociferated for the third time by the whole assembly.
The strains of an organ were heard in the distance. Roland's bandage was removed, and a veil thrown over his head, that he might not be dazzled by the light.
When the veil was removed, he stood with Eric on one side and Adams on the other.
Weidmann spoke the words of initiation; and Roland, kneeling, humbly took the oath, with Eric's hand resting on his right shoulder, and Adams's on his left. Swords clashed, and in the distance singing was heard with an organ accompaniment.
The powerful singer whom we heard at Herr Endlich's entertainment, and at Wolfsgarten, sang here in the arched hall a pathetic air in a rich bass voice; and all hearts were gently soothed.
Roland arose. Weidmann kissed him, and afterwards embraced his brother Eric on the right, and his brother Adams on the left. They received the signs; and the so-called sign of distress, in particular, moved Roland deeply.
Eric, Roland, and Adams were now led out of the hall, and received back their money and jewels, the Major remarking,—
"You did bravely, young—forgive me—my brother!"
On returning to the hall they all rose; and Weidmann, bidding Roland and Eric take Adams's hand, began as follows,—
"Here, while we clasp our dusky brother in our arms, you see what we are! Through the jubilations of our century, a sound pierces, which, in time to come, shall be heard no more: it is the sound of clashing chains, of the fetters wherewith our fellow-men have been bound. Henceforth, these chains shall be but an emblem, a melancholy symbol. We who are men, and who want to be men fully and entirely, we take one another by the hand, and form a living chain. My brothers, you will be told, and, perchance, will tell yourselves, that our Order is antiquated, without significance in these modern times; but I tell you it will never be antiquated, never insignificant, for they who are dedicated to the service of the free Spirit must ever hold one another in a living clasp.
"We know the deficiencies of our Order. It is a matter of great difficulty to found an association firmly upon a universal thought apart from any historical basis. This is our principal disadvantage as compared with the Church. Hence enthusiasts and hypocrites seek for an historical foundation; nevertheless, our Order is the stronghold of virtue; and its unity is doubly formidable in that it is a league of free men; for free men will not suffer themselves to be bound. Yet our league, were its name never mentioned, would have a most important bearing upon the solution of the social problem, as it is called, of which the slavery question is only a part. And it is the thing we want, not the name. No deliverance was ever wrought by mere calculation, and there can be no permanent effect produced without the co-operation of love. The lust of pleasure and the lust of gain would seem to be the essential characteristics of our time; yet I, and we all, proclaim aloud. Great is our century! Europe, with her ancient culture and her waning nobility, is endeavoring to lay all men under an obligation to labor: America and Russia, to render all labor free. Ever since I beheld the great millennial wave bearing down upon me, I have lived a new and happy life. I have been filled with holy confidence; and, all unseen, our league is working towards the same end.
"Two principles are contending in this world, egoism and humanity. We meet selfishness by benevolence. The more thou servest others in love, the freer art thou. The more thou givest of thyself, the richer art thou. To every man we say, 'First free thyself from servitude.' Great things in this world come from small beginnings. To every one of you and to myself I say, 'Begin by abolishing slavery in thyself!' We have all a slave within us, a slave to precedent, to inertia, to obsequiousness. Free this slave within, and then wilt thou be worthy to emancipate the slaves around thee. And now, my new brothers, consider this. As the signs of intelligence which you have received are not verbal, but visible, sensible motions, as our own mutual understanding supersedes and transcends speech, so is it with the idea of our Order. It is something older and broader than all single religious associations. We seek repose and peace in labor and trade. To our doctrine each may give his own private interpretation, as every man speaks in his own peculiar voice, which can never be exactly imitated. The deed alone, the free, righteous, noble deed, cannot be explained away, cannot be misunderstood, cannot be affected by any individual. Ours is a brotherhood of noble deeds."
Turning to Roland he said,—
"To you, my young brother, much has been given; and you must say with your brother here, so rich in intellectual gifts, and this your other brother, now armed for free labor, 'What I am, and what I have, I have not of myself, and so I have it not for myself.' Self-sacrifice is self-exaltation. Your own highest good is the good of the whole world. What you do, do not with the hope of reward from another; but be yourself your own reward. A revolution is now taking place in the minds of men, such as there must have been wrought when they first learned the fact of the motion of the planet on which we live. Mankind, who had always known slavery, and believed that its continuance was right, were long unable to conceive a different state of things; and it was thus with the authors of that great sacred book. I say, mankind could not conceive of labor as other than a disgrace, a curse pronounced upon the race. But now, not by any new and external revelation, but through a free and natural unfolding of knowledge, we are enabled to get beyond this view. A new age is beginning. Labor is no longer a disgrace, but an honor; no longer a curse, but a blessing. No formal religion can sanctify labor; for it belongs not to the other world, but eternally to this. Were a medal to be struck to commemorate our century, it should bear upon the face the symbol of free labor, and upon the reverse, that of the love of nature. Neither has yet been represented by art. Our idea has not yet attained to many-hued loveliness, and to a picturesque variety; for philanthropy is colorless like pure light. Walk therefore in the light, and die for the love of your kind. You have lived in the light; live ever so, and in the eternal ideas of self-sacrifice and brotherly love."
Deeply moved, Eric made a brief reply. Roland, too, was called upon, but could only say,—
"My brother and teacher has expressed all that I feel."
Adams also offered a few words. He would try to show himself worthy the honorable brotherhood which had been conferred upon him.
The three now seated themselves in the ranks of the brotherhood, and took part in the transaction of some urgent and existing business.
With ready and practised eloquence, the Major's host, the Grand Master, informed them that the Pope had condemned all Masonic leagues; and he read a protest to be adopted by the present lodge.
Weidmann asked if any brother desired to offer any comment, and the Doctor came forward, and said,—
"I move the rejection of this protest, and also the open acknowledgment of that notoriously false principle with which we are reproached in the bull of excommunication. I find Masonry as wordy at home as it is dastardly abroad; for dastardly it is, not to be perfectly open. It is all true! We recognize and acknowledge man to be morally complete, independent of any positive church; not necessarily hostile to the church, but independent of it. But this prevaricating, and ducking under ecclesiastical phrases, this spiritless sailing under false colors,"—
"A little less vehemently, if you please," observed Weidmann.
Quietly, but firmly, the Doctor continued:
"I move that the protest be rejected."
The Grand Master gazed helplessly about. He, with all his honors on his head, bring forward a proposition, and not have it accepted!—
The Doctor at length begged Eric, as one not yet bound by the traditions prevailing here, to explain his meaning more precisely.
Eric arose and said, that, though strongly inclined to agree with the Doctor, he was not quite sure where right lay. He could only permit himself to quote the words of a noble spirit now passed away. Clodwig had seen, as in a vision upon his death-bed, the combatants of the present day dividing into two hostile camps, one of which rallied around the Pope, the other around the standard of free thought. A third party, agreeing partly with the former, and partly with the latter, he thought impossible.
The protest was rejected; but the Doctor's proposition, openly to acknowledge the justice of the Papal animadversions, was also set aside. At the close of the celebration the brethren sat down to a banquet. Roland was once more welcomed by the Banker with peculiar heartiness.
The youth asked the Major in a low voice, why Professor Einsiedel and Knopf were not members of the order.
"They are natural members of the association," answered the Major.
As they left the castle by the light of the full moon, Roland said to the Major,—
"To have lived a day like this makes death seem easy."
"I say with Claus," answered the Major, "we won't look for death till the very last."
And so their high-strung mood passed over into merriment.
On the following morning, the Major begged for the Banker's advice on a matter bearing decisively upon his life; and in which the Banker could assist him more than any one else.
The Banker declared himself ready to render any assistance.