THE TWAIN ARE MADE ONE
Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing, and obtaineth favor of the Lord.
—The Bible.
What a bundle of contradictions is poor human flesh! Here have I been all my life preaching the beauty and sanctity of single life, and am I not the same man who once at the command of Brother Beissel printed an argument against the Moravians for that they practised not celibacy and being called to task by our leader for the moderation of my views, I added so much salt to my polemics that Brother Beissel was greatly pleased and I doubt not our spiritual enemies completely overwhelmed?
But here am I now in my old age delighting in telling of the day when my boy and our beloved Genoveva were made one, our dear sister having finally consented to give up her celestial Bridegroom for an earthly one.
Over a year had slipped by since the death of that poor woman, and how often I tried to solve the mystery of her life by the light of her last words, her strange devotion to Sonnlein in his illness, her clinging so to him in her last moments; and then the death of Brother Alburtus would come to me, and how he thought himself another person, calling himself David Seymour; but though my mind would continually hang over these two so that at times I thought I had caught the answer, yet I was often on further reflection compelled to confess I had not the solution of all this mystery, which I often feared would never be made clear.
And now sweet May had come again, to me ever one of the most pleasing months of the year, when the dandelions and the buttercups gleam in our meadows like stars, and the meek little violets nestle lovingly in the deep grass, while from the fields and the woods come the clear notes of the birds, mate calling unto mate with such delicious tenderness that I often wonder whether there be not a heaven for flowers and birds, and for everything He created. And yet I mean not the same heaven for all, for I like not snakes and bugs.
Indeed, 'twas either the enchanting spring days or else this getting my boy and our Genoveva wedded that seemed to go to my head like wine; for half the time I was flying about the Kloster grounds like a bee in a bottle, and yet if it ever be necessary for one to keep his wits from bumping against the other surely it is when there is intrusted to him the tremendous responsibility of tying together two young hearts in wedlock.
My Brothers and Sisters, though at first consistently opposing themselves to all this marrying, finally—for so great was their love for Sonnlein and Genoveva—took almost as great interest as I in the matter, especially the Sisters, notwithstanding their vows; for I have observed that the weaker sex can no more keep away from weddings than honey bees from the flowers.
After much talk with the Sisters—and even the Brethren deigned to give most grave and solemn suggestions which I gratefully accepted and wisely disregarded—it was decided the wedding, or Hochzeit, should be held in Peniel, which as will be recalled we built in the meadow during that dreadful winter just before the death of our poor Brother Agonius.
So great a delight did our little community find in the wedding to be, that not only were invitations sent out to all the housefathers, their good wives and sturdy sons and buxom daughters; but we even sent invitations to our English Brethren in Nantmill and Coventry and to our German Brethren on the Wissahickon; for we were not ashamed to let the world see that although we had high regard for our views of celibacy, yet we knew when it became us to bow gently to that which could not be helped, for surely when two be bent on marrying each other naught availeth to hinder them.
And now that we had decided upon such grave matters as the fixing of the day, the selection of the person to perform the ceremony, our justice, Conrad Weiser, having graciously accepted that honor, and the sending out of the invitations, the Sisters immediately set to work for the feeding of the great multitude we earnestly hoped would come, for on such a day we must feed our guests well and not subject them to the thinness of our Kloster fare.
Then too, though Sonnlein concerned himself not much about his wedding suit, the Sisters made great ado that their beloved Genoveva could in no wise be properly married unless she had most beautiful garments befitting such a wedding as this; so that between the baking and sewing and all the other endless things that women ever seem to regard necessary for weddings, I fear that at our midnight meetings Sisters and Brothers did not always have their thoughts turned toward the heavenly Bridegroom and the celestial Virgin, the hymns having more of love in them than ever before. Whether this was mere coincidence I know not, and I leave this for wiser men to determine, only that Brother Beissel the day before the wedding complained to me he verily believed it were next to useless to hold any more midnight services until we got through with this marrying business; that even so solemn and stern a Sister as the prioress seemed now to think only of one thing, which was that Genoveva should be married in proper state.
But even wedding days, like all other days, are bound to come around if only one waiteth patiently and hath found a mate, and so Sonnlein's came, a perfect spring day, neither hot nor cold, but just such a day of mild, pleasant air and cloudless sky as might make one content to live on this earth forever. I have heard it said the most solemn one on a wedding day is he who is to be married, some claiming this to be due because he feeleth that thereafter he hath lost his freedom as being subject more or less to the will and wishes of another. Whether this be true I know not, only I can set it forth that Sonnlein greeted the morn of his wedding day not at all as one going to a prison other than one walled and barred by the love of his Genoveva.
So, early in the forenoon of that wonderful day, a great multitude was gathered on the grassy plot between Saron and Bethania as we had not seen for many a year, so that even Brother Ezechial, with all his dread of womankind, came at Sonnlein's call to his cell and finally consented to peer out of the little window, but in great trepidation, seeing so many plump forms and rosy faces, the merry, tempting daughters of Eve laughing and talking—whenever their elders ceased to remind them we liked not such levity—like a lot of chattering birds.
"Art not sorry thy cell overlooks the Cocalico, good brother?" asked Sonnlein soberly.
"'Tis an awful sight!" whispered Brother Ezechial, shaking all over and turning his eyes from the gay medley below.
"Meanest thou the old one yonder who hath such fierce look?" said Sonnlein, pretending he missed our brother's meaning. "Thou needst not look at her. See, haste thee, that pretty maid is smiling to thee! Art not going to reply to such challenge?'"
"God forbid!" exclaimed Brother Ezechial fervently as he turned hastily from the window and in mortal fear shut himself in his cell, though I never have believed one should be this much afraid of woman.
Shortly after midday we all, that is, all of the great crowd that could possibly get in, were crowded into the large Saal. At the farther, or eastern end of the hall, in the middle of a small platform, sat our one-time Brother, now Justice Conrad Weiser, grave and impressive, as became the dignity of his high office, and yet not deeming it unworthy of the occasion to appear in such resplendent apparel as confirmed many a good Brother and Sister that our justice was, alas, beyond redemption; for from his long, black swallow-tail coat gleamed a row of gold buttons, his waistcoat being a color as I can liken only to the soft richness of a ripe plum; and more proudly sinful than all this were the silver buckles where the long black silk stockings met the dark knee breeches, and even on his black slippers were large silver buckles, the buckles and the buttons twinkling and glowing like little lamps, so that we all were quite dazed with the dignity and radiance shed upon us by our good justice.
To the front of our justice and a trifle to his right, being also on the little platform, sat our worthy Vorsteher, the lifetime apostle of celibacy, with such a look of humble resignation upon his face as would have softened the stoniest heart, even though he was clad in all the solemn grandeur of the sacred robes, which, in imitation of those worn by the Jewish high priests, the Eckerlings had wheedled him into wearing.
To the front and left of our justice sat our prioress in the robes of the priestess of the Roses of Saron, stiff, stern, and erect as ever, her tight, evenly pressed lips giving her the inscrutable look of a sphinx, though well I knew our dura mater's heart was beating warmly for our beloved young sister.
And now having disposed of the high dignitaries, I come to my boy and his Genoveva, he sitting directly behind our leader and not at all abashed, though I have ever understood it becometh a bridegroom so to appear, for he fairly shone with health and happiness, so that more than one wistful glance was shot slyly at him by the softhearted girls; but as to what he had on, bless me, even though he was my beloved Sonnlein, I cannot recall, only that he was clothed as was the custom of the young men of the secular congregation, some plain black cloth, so near as I can tell, forming the staple of his attire.
To Sonnlein's left and behind our prioress and beyond the splendor of our justice sat our Genoveva, and though I know little of cloths and fabrics, especially of woman's dress, if my memory faileth me not she was clothed somewhat after the manner of the Sisterhood, only instead of the plain, coarse black dress or grayish ones they sometimes wore, her snow-white gown was of some wonderful material such as I had not seen since my student days and which gleamed and shimmered much as I have seen the sunlight play on the ripples of the Cocalico.
And whereas the Sisters ever had their beauty enveloped in those hideous hoods, so completely hiding their virginal faces from the brothers, Genoveva, being already within the freedom that marriage brings to woman, had on no hood, not even a veil to hide that crown of golden hair waving so gracefully and simply from her brow and tied in the back with some beautiful band or ribbon formed into a cunning bow, among the folds of which were ensnared the sweet little violets Sonnlein had plucked for his bride, and these little violets she hath to this day, for thus is the heart of woman.
There were those, indeed, among the Sisters who had gravely asserted our sister could not be properly married without a veil, but Sonnlein and I being of one mind that everybody would desire to see how beautiful was our Genoveva, we stoutly held it were almost ungodly to hide her 'neath a hideous veil. And so as she sat there blushing modestly whenever Sonnlein glanced at her, which the rascal was doing most of the time, I know many a man's heart envied my boy, for surely never did I see anything to equal her simple, high-souled, woman's beauty.
Thus I write it down that when one hath the gift of loveliness one need not gorgeous raiment.
Directly in front of the low pulpit from behind which shone the majesty of the law was myself, on a short bench, feeling very big, as though all the glory of this wedding were mine. In front of us and facing our way sat the Brotherhood on the long benches running across the hall, cloaked and cowled, hands folded meekly across the breasts, tonsured heads bowed, and eyes looking neither to the right nor the left, though assuredly there was abundance of attractive provocation. Even our Brother Ezechial had been prevailed upon to leave the safety of his retirement for the awful perils of the crowded Saal. And our good Brother Gottleib, who ever maintained that all jewelry was made in the workshop of the Evil One, for once overcame his scruples sufficiently to wear the gold ring—containing a bit of holy writ inscribed in Greek—that proclaimed our brother a duly initiated member of the Holy Order of the Mustard Seed.
Back of the Brothers and under the galleries, along the north and the south sides of the hall, were the gray-bearded housefathers, and behind them, filling every vantage place within the sacred walls, were the sturdy sons of the housefathers and the male friends and guests who had flocked from all directions to see a Kloster wedding.
And lest it be thought that I, being a surly monk, lack the gallantry due the weaker vessels, I shall mention that in the broad, northern gallery of the hall were clustered the Roses of Saron, while the robust wives and rosy-cheeked daughters of the house elders and the female friends and guests were assembled in the southern gallery.
These galleries, or por-kirche, as they were called, were screened with lattice work, following the custom of the synagogues in Holland and Germany, wherein the women were relegated to the screened galleries, for, with Paulus, we held that women should keep silent in the churches and remain modestly in the background, and I rejoice that I can write in all truth that our Sisters in the northern gallery, like our Brethren on their benches below, maintained strict and decorous silence. I cannot say so much for the wives and daughters in the southern gallery who from behind their lattice kept up such a whispering and commotion and bustling and peering about as greatly offended our order-loving souls, even our leader, who had it ever in him to be all things to all men and who could be pleasant as well as stern, frowning most severely, so that half the time I was in a tremble lest he would burst forth into one of his scoldings.
But at last there was some semblance of order in the crowded Saal, and then, at the word from our leader, our Brothers and Sisters rose to their feet and sang a number of our hymns, and surely never was our soft Kloster music more heavenly sweet, a great hush falling upon all the rest in the hall, for such power hath pure music over the human heart.
And then, Brother Weiser having first read from the Bible, discreetly selecting a chapter that had naught of marrying in it, motioned Sonnlein and Genoveva to stand forth, whereupon they stood up, she in womanly grace and modesty and he as proud as any lord, my boy, by reason of his royal stature and his being on the platform, fairly towering over us as our justice called out whether any one had aught to say why these two should not be made husband and wife.
For a moment there was absolute silence and then from the rear of the hall came a loud, brutal voice from one not of our number, I rejoice to say, who in season and out of season had lost no opportunity ever since my baptism by Brother Beissel to heap upon me every foul insult and taunt and ridicule. And now with a hateful devil's smile on his face and a foul fiend's spiteful laugh, my persecutor cried out, "What name doth our good brother's Sonnlein give his wife?"
Had lightning fallen upon us from the clear sky I know we had not been more dazed, for though we had provided for everything else, it had never come to us that Sonnlein must have a name to give his bride! For a moment a great bewilderment held me fast, and then, as mine enemy laughed loudly again at our consternation, not heeding the angry looks of the more excitable of our housefathers and their sons, I could see that it required all of Sonnlein's will to keep him from this ungentle intruder who with his evil heart seemed to find most exquisite delight in our torment as he laughed more brutally than before, "Call thyself 'Müller,' Sonnlein, and thou goest not wrong, I swear."
At this vile insult I thought Sonnlein would fly from the platform and rend the villain limb from limb, for such passion was in my boy's face as I had rarely seen, but I gently pressed him back while I spake quietly but steadily so all could hear, "If Sonnlein careth for it and our sister will bear the burden of so humble a name as Müller I give it gladly," and then I cried out proudly, "For all that mine enemies and the enemies of our holy Order may think or say to the contrary, 'tis a name my boy need not be ashamed of!"
"And the only one that belongs to him, thou bald-pated hypocrite!" sneered mine enemy so all could hear, whereat I so forgot myself to cry out—for it is foolish to lose one's temper and bandy foul names—"Thou liest!" but I was beyond all endurance and had I said the word I could see by the lowering looks of our adherents it would have gone ill with this hate-poisoned man, but I controlled myself, though how I know not to this day, and again I spake softly, "I entreat you all to hold yourselves in patience but a few moments until my return," whereupon I left the Saal, some following me anxiously with their eyes, fearing my peace-loving spirit was making me run away from all this untimely quarrel.
In a few moments I was back again holding something under my cloak out of sight while I related how Sonnlein had come to me and about the dying words of Brother Alburtus and the last moments of that poor woman, and as Sonnlein and Genoveva and the Brothers and Sisters added their testimony so far as they knew I could see the great wonderment creeping over the faces of all present, even mine enemy, despite his hate and unbelief, remaining quiet for once.
And then, having brought the assemblage to this mood, I suddenly pulled out from beneath my cloak the little white baby garment I had found on Sonnlein that morning in the woods in the long ago hermit days. Holding up the stained and soiled cloak so all could see, I fairly shouted to mine enemy, "Come and see the pretty letters on this child's cloak, 'C. S.,'" and lifting mine hand on high, I declared solemnly, "Before the Great Searcher of Hearts I swear I know not how those letters came there or what they stand for!"
And then came a thrilling cry from the rear of the hall, "Praise the Lord, 'tis David's boy!" and then some one rushed forward through the crowd that fell back who for a moment I thought was our Brother Alburtus returned from the dead, some of the Brothers and Sisters and of the secular members actually whispering in their fright, "'Tis Brother Alburtus."
But the stranger heeded not the commotion only pressing forward the tears running down his face, and shaking in every limb, as he caught Sonnlein's hands in his, holding them as if he never would let go, saying over and over, "My brother David's son; my brother's only son!"
Finally as the stranger became more composed, he turned to me. "Didst ask the child its name when thou didst find him?"
"Yea, the first thing I sought was his name, but he only would say 'Tass,' and such name have I never heard. To this day I know not what he meant, though often have I thought on it."
"Oh, thou wise, simple monk! 'Tass' was naught more than baby for 'Charles,' which his unpractised lips could not frame into other than 'Tass.' We all called him 'Tass' for a pet name."
I could not doubt 'twas so, for I could see more than one of the housefathers and the housemothers exchange nods and smiles with the nighest one as much as to say, "How stupid our Brother Jabez hath been not to see this long ago!" But how was I to know, not having any great knowledge of the little ones?
Then turning to our justice I bowed humbly, and said, "Brother Weiser thou art a justice, and if I mistake not hast power and authority to administer an oath or an affirmation."
To which our justice gravely responded, "Such power reposeth in me by virtue of my commission as justice."
"I shall ask, then, good brother, that our friend who sayeth his name is Thomas Seymour be affirmed that he will speak the truth."
And then as the stranger faced about toward the pulpit, our justice with his full, round voice that ever sounded to me like some strong, deep toned bell, said to the stranger:
"Dost thou, Thomas Seymour, solemnly and truly declare and affirm that thou wilt tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, and so thou dost affirm?"
To which the stranger as solemnly replied, and yet distinctly in the breathless silence of the hall, "Yea!"
And now, after all these long years, my boy found his own, right name; and mine own reputation, often so bitterly assailed by those who held not with our mode of life, was cleansed from all stain and dishonor; for truly "a good name is better than great riches."
And thus our good brother, Thomas Seymour, whom many present with us this day vouched to be one of our most devout and influential English Sabbatarians, from Coventry, had come all this long journey merely to honor us with his presence; but in the providence of God destined to find his brother's son and to have all this dark mystery about Brother Alburtus and the witch and Sonnlein made as light as day.
Briefly, as our Brother Seymour related it to us, he and his brother David, known to us as Brother Alburtus, with his wife Elizabeth and their boy, Charles, our Brother Thomas being a bachelor, had lived together in Coventry. By the fall of a tree, which they were felling nigh their cabin, Brother Alburtus received the great gash across his brow, the hurt taking his mind from him so that one day he wandered away leaving no more trace of his departure than if he had been taken up into the sky, only that he had frequently after his hurt spoken ramblingly about joining the hermits on the Cocalico. Inquiry among the Solitary showed he was not with them; for it was not until some years after Sonnlein and I came to Ephrata that Brother Alburtus joined our community, and where and how he lived ere that no one ever knew. Some weeks after he had left his wife, she, unable longer to endure her suspense, left suddenly with the little boy, while our brother Thomas was absent from the cabin. She and the child also were swallowed up so completely by the wilderness that with all his long searching naught could he find of them, though he had visited the Conestogas, on a rumor that there was a white woman living with them, but they could not or would not tell him aught. At last, almost heartbroken and despairing of finding the lost ones, whom he now believed to be dead from the wild beasts, or starvation, or the Indians, he left Coventry, not returning again for over ten years after the loss of his brother David and his wife and child.
More we never learned, but it was clear to all that the fearsome witch was the wife of Brother Alburtus, that he was David Seymour, the brother of Thomas Seymour, and that Sonnlein was the baby. Many an eye was dimmed in the Saal at the plain, unadorned recital of our brother's tale, as we thought of all the long years of darkened mind that had held our Brother Alburtus, so that he knew not his own boy though so nigh; but most of all our hearts went out in a great sorrow for that poor woman who half crazed by unwearying search and ever-recurring disappointment had suffered all these years the bitter pangs of separation from husband and child; and I know many a silent prayer arose from our hearts for those two who at last were sleeping side by side in that rude, mountain grave.
Indeed, it was a relief to our strained feelings when Johann, who long ago had forgiven the beating Sonnlein had given him, turned toward mine enemy yelling at him, "If thou leavest not at once with thy devil's grin, thou wilt be hurled into the creek," whereat mine enemy, abashed for once, slunk out of the hall like a whipped beast.
Surely there is not much else to relate of this marriage, though I shall never forget how lost and lonesome I felt, like a father bereft of his son, when our justice asked Sonnlein—and ever hath he been Sonnlein to me—"Dost thou, Charles Seymour, take this woman, our Genoveva, to be thy lawful wedded wife," my boy responded proudly, "Yea." And then, as I remember it, our justice asked our lovely Genoveva a like question if she would take him to be her husband, and upon her low "Yea," our justice pronounced them husband and wife, and promptly saluted her with such a willing smack as made even the Sisters titter, while poor Brother Ezechial hung his head still lower, blushing to his very ears.
The next day Sonnlein and Genoveva left on their honeymoon with his uncle for Coventry, and though Coventry be not to the end of the world, it seemed to me as though all the world had left me, only that she kissed me ere she left, whereat I blushed so through all my long beard, that Sonnlein laughed so heartily I liked it not; but had he known how long I cherished the memory of that kiss, the only one for many a long year, ah me, my boy had not laughed so boisterously I know.