WHEN HEARTS ARE YOUNG
Come, Corinna, let me kiss thee!
Come, my dearest, to me here!
I would know why joy should miss thee,
I would have thine answer clear.
Smiling sweetly said she, "No,"
Then demurely yielded so.
—Francis Daniel Pastorius (of Germantown).
How the years slipped by! Twenty years ago my Sonnlein had come to me a little toddler. Now he was a tall youth—even taller than I—strong and straight as the pine under which I found him; full of healthful animal spirits that sometimes in their exuberance give me vague fears as to what his active, enthusiastic nature might lead him to. Thus far he had done naught to shake my confidence in him. He was a constant solace to me. Brother Obed, with unwearying patience for Sonnlein's lively ways, was exceedingly proud of his acquirements, for between Brother Obed and me Sonnlein had not only learned to speak our mother tongue like one of us, but even in Latin and Greek he was no indifferent scholar. We had also taught him the arts of rhetoric and logic and mathematics, and had versed him in literature and history, poetry and music.
But above all mathematics, history, language, and literature, Brother Obed and I had taught Sonnlein what we knew and what we could teach him to find out for himself about this world of ours, this delightful book of nature our Creator gave us to read and search with no less diligence than his written word, and so the moon and the stars by night, the sun by day, the ever-recurring seasons, calm and tempest, the sparkling streams, waving trees, the sweet and lovely flowers, the creatures that fill God's earth, man, bird, and beast—all these were taught so that our boy understood them as so many manifestations of his power and beauty and love and tenderness for us who were created in his image. And that our boy might have the best of all guides for the interpretation of this visible life and the unseen world beyond the gates of death, we taught him gently but persistently God's holy word, for in our simple view of life it seemed a great shame that one should know all about the kings and princes of this fleeting earth but know naught of the Prince of princes and the King of kings. Thus our boy, we fondly trusted, was prepared to fill any place in this world according to his gifts, happily for himself and others.
But I dare not pretend that he was a youthful saint, for frequently to my poorly concealed amusement and the evident chagrin of our superintendent, Sonnlein often put the former to utter rout in the discussion of some of his finespun interpretations of holy writ. Indeed, I fear there was no love lost between our estimable leader and my boy, for Sonnlein had that inexorable logic, that sure keenness of mind that pierces a sophistry as a skillful archer wings his arrow to the center of the mark. At times Sonnlein's apparent want of reverence, his seeming irreligion, his lack of deference for Brother Beissel's peculiar views, threatened to disrupt the brotherly relations that ever existed between our superintendent and me, his associate; for with all his sternness, his austerity, his unbending will and ambition, I recognized that our leader was no ordinary man, and while not a scholar he was a man of great and many talents—all in all, just the one to hold together our little community.
The trouble was that while Sonnlein had much of the sweet reasonableness and charity that comes from the study and contemplation of the humanities, he added to his poetic, philosophical temperament the energy and will that mark the man of action. An ardent, impetuous, positive nature like his was bound to clash with one like the superintendent's, and more than once it called forth all my wits to prevent actual rupture between the two, which would have scandalized us sorely. Thus it was that while I frequently reproached Sonnlein for his irreverence for Brother Beissel, I just as often placated the latter by pleading Sonnlein's youth and inexperience.
I recall especially one occasion when our leader had delivered a long discourse on one of his pet theories, that in heaven we should have the same occupations we had followed here. Sonnlein's brief comment, so it was brought to mine ears, was he pitied grave-diggers and the like if that was all the reward they were to receive. In our Kloster there were tattlers and talebearers, just as in more worldly places, and our leader hearing of the thing, which I knew Sonnlein had said more in jest than in disrespect, came to me in high dudgeon and demanded Sonnlein make open apology before all the Brotherhood. This I knew full well Sonnlein would not do and I besought our worthy leader to overlook the matter and forgive him. I shall never forget how he almost yelled at me, his small frame quivering with righteous indignation beneath my towering stature. "Forgive him! So sayest thou ever. I verily believe thou couldst forgive the devil!"
"In truth, dear brother, I oft have done so," I replied, smiling quietly and looking down into his angry eyes meaningly.
He straightened up and, as he walked savagely away, delivered this parting shot: "No doubt; thou hast had abundant opportunity in thy precious Sonnlein!"
It was my turn to flush now, but happily I controlled myself and said nothing, consoling myself with the reflection that our superintendent's witty retort would go far to appease his indignation and that by the morrow he would greet me with his accustomed affection and good-will, for in order to make others love us it is only necessary to make them love themselves, and many a rascal by this knowledge hath overcome many a wise man.
That night I spake to Sonnlein kindly but firmly, reminding him how poorly it accorded with his manhood's estate to indulge in such levity; that even if he could not always agree with the hair-splitting speculations of our worthy superintendent, it were surely wiser to hold one's tongue lest that unruly member poison all our peace.
"But," replied he gently, as was ever his way toward me, "Vaterchen, Brother Beissel hath something about him that everything he says and does irritates me. It passeth my understanding why he alone of all our Brothers and Sisters so affects me. I sometimes fear I hate him and that he returns the same feeling, yet I know not that he hath ever harmed me. I promise thee to curb this tongue of mine. Good night, Vaterchen; schlafen Sie wohl," and so saying he went meekly to his Kammer, from whence I could soon tell by his deep, regular breathing what I had said was not greatly disturbing his sleep.
Late in the afternoon of the following day, being now in the wane of what we have since learned to call the "Indian summer," I was wandering, somewhat aimlessly I confess, along the borders of the Sisters' close, when suddenly, on lifting mine eyes from the earth, I perceived one of the Sisterhood directly in my pathway, but a short distance ahead, sitting quietly on a projecting root, which, springing from the base of a towering chestnut tree, formed a comfortable seat.
She had not observed me, I felt sure, and thinking not to disturb her meditations, for I doubted not she was rapt in contemplation of the heavenly Bridegroom, I stepped quietly aside into the cover of a near-by thicket. I hardly had done so when, not far beyond the Sister, a rich, deep voice rang out in an old German hunting song:
"Out into the woods three hunters went,
On the white deer's chase their wishes bent."
From my hiding-place I saw the form at the foot of the tree sit more erect in listening posture, and as the face was uplifted, the fair features of Sister Genoveva met my gaze, such a pensive wistfulness and tenderness informing every feature of the lovely face turned unwittingly toward me, I somehow thought of my Bernice, who so soon was called to her celestial Bridegroom.
Again the fine, strong voice rang out, still nearer:
"Down under the fir-trees' shade they lay,
The same strange dream came to each that day.
"THE FIRST.
"'I dreamt I beat on a sheltering bush,
From out its fold sprang the deer, husch, husch!'"
And now I caught occasional glimpses of the gray fox-skin hunter's cap Sonnlein wore when on the chase, for I had recognized his voice full well. Some one else too seemed to know, for I could not help seeing, e'en though I never have known much of the signs and symptoms of love, that Sister Genoveva's pensiveness had given way to a gentle smile that brought an added charm to the wonderful loveliness of the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.
Still nearer came the trumpet tones:
"THE SECOND.
"'And as he sprang from the hound's hoarse laugh,
I branded him deep on the hide, piff, paff!'"
Where had the scamp learned to sing with such faithfulness to the sense? I heard plainly the "hound's hoarse laugh," the "piff, paff!" And again I wondered where he had learned to sing so true. Surely not from our leader; no Æolian harp about these manly, resounding notes:
"THE THIRD.
"'And as on the earth him slain I saw,
Lustily into the horn I blew, trara!'"
That "trara," like the blast of a hunting horn, transported me to my boyhood days in the Vaterland, where often I had heard the huntsmen call to each other in the thick forests and mountain glens.
And then mockingly came the stanza:
"So there they lay and bragged these three—
And there, ran by them the white deer—free!"
Surely the light-hearted boy, for boy he always has been to me, was meant for a minnesinger.
And now he was so nigh only a thin wall of brush separated him, all unconscious, from Sister Genoveva and me, as she sat in the little clearing at the foot of the tree. Her eyes were now sparkling with merriment; delicate dimples of mirthfulness played hide and seek over chin and cheeks, despite the dignified efforts to maintain a sober mien as became one of the holy Sisterhood. Surely she was thinking of the surprise in store for him when he should burst the bushy barriers—and see her. It seemed to me she might have left the spot, for certain it was there was no lack of opportunity. Once, in faith, I was about to call to her sternly, but I could not, for verily I believe we both were held by the witchery of his song.
Then came the last verse, still strong and clear, with its vein of mockery:
"But hardly was he within their sight
He was gone again over deep and height
Husch, husch! piff, paff! trara!"
The echoes of his stentorian tones had hardly died away when he was on us. Rather, I should say, he was in the presence of Sister Genoveva, for I was safely ensconced in the thicket, resolved now to see the meeting to its conclusion. And what a picture they made in that leaf-strewn clearing, all red and brown and gold with the jewels of the dying year, the chestnut stretching its arms out over the two forms as if in a blessing!
Not all the studied plainness and cloistral severity of the black dress could suppress the womanly grace and beauty of the full, rounded form of Sister Genoveva; nor could the hideous hood, which had fallen on her shoulders, have hidden from view those sweet features, so delicately strong and full of noble calmness and serenity—and yet no cold, marble, nun-like face, for the full red lips, the rosy flush of the rounded cheeks, the dimpled chin, and the warmth of those luminous, deep blue eyes betokened an affectionate and loving heart; and now that I saw her with such opportunity to scan her without myself being seen, I could understand the reports that had come to me of the wonderful influence she already exerted over the Sisterhood by reason of her clear vision, her piety, her strong will, her even temper, and above all that largeness of heart that made her sought even more than Mutter Maria in the troubles and fears and temptations that even our simple, secluded life could not wholly shut out from our little world.
But if she was the perfect Eve in this little paradise under the spreading chestnut, Sonnlein was no unworthy Adam. I knew not which of the two most satisfied my carnal eye with their fresh, young, healthful beauty. From beneath his gray cap his thick black hair hung in heavy, wavy masses about his neck and shoulders. His ruddy, sunburned face glowed with the spirit and animation of his song. At first, when he burst upon her, he started back in surprise, and then he called to her in gentle gayety, as he dropped on one knee, cap in hand, bowing gracefully (so that I wondered where he had caught those courtier-like airs which not at all pleased my plain ways), "Thou queen of the Roses of Saron, art thou holding court in thy temple of beauty?"
And then, for I could have sworn when he burst upon us she had been thinking of him in maidenly tenderness, she looked up indifferently, even coldly, and rebuked him, "Shame on thee to disturb these sacred grounds with thy worldly, boisterous song, thou noisy reveler. Thou idle, mighty Nimrod, where are the fruits of thy chase? Perchance" (and I saw a sly twinkle in her eyes that his abashed face did not observe) "thou didst dream too long under the fir tree and the white deer escaped thee? Gay garments torn from innocent beasts to add to vain adornment do not make one a great hunter."
"Nay, Sister Genoveva," he replied more earnestly, "no white deer ran through my dreams; no fir trees' shade soothed mine eyes to sleep. Wide awake was I, and yet I dreamed of a fair, sweet rose that I, even though it had thorns to prick me, would wear next my heart."
"Indeed, thou poet, thou speakest as though inspired with love. Surely it is time thou dost take the vow of loyalty to the celestial Virgin and join the consecrated Brotherhood; why delayest thou so long? In her love thou wilt find no thorns."
"But, dear sister, I want the rose with the thorns" (how delicately he emphasized the "with"). "Canst thou not see whom I mean, or dost thou not care to know?"
And then I saw the delicious mockery leave her face and voice as she said to him in solemn tones, "Nay, my brother Sonnlein, I dare not know; for thy sake as well as mine I must not know. Thou art possessed by some idle fancy the Evil One hath put into thee. Thou must not disrespect me by making my woman's heart struggle 'gainst my vows of celibacy."
He lifted his head and looking into her eyes that met his so fearlessly, his passionate heart burst forth into a very torrent of love, so I wondered she could withstand him. "I do love thee, sister," murmured tumultuously the low, warm voice, "with all my heart and mind and body and soul. I do not hold thee lightly in my respect or I had spoken of this long ago; but my respect for thee, for Vaterchen, for our Holy Order forbade; but I can no longer withhold myself." And then masterfully he stood erect and in strong, earnest tones declared, "I for one am not ashamed of human love. I should rather be ashamed of myself did I not love such as thou art to me." And then, the eloquent diplomat, "Brother Beissel, whom the Roses of Saron worship as little less than God himself, hath he not declared, is it not the very foundation of your vows of celibacy that man was first a spirit containing both the elements of man and woman; that this spiritual virgin, the Sophia, left him? Then was woman formed from a rib of his side, whereby man lost his woman's attributes and retained merely man's? Thou must not smile and shake thy head, my sister. Thou art, I care not if the wide world know it, my Sophia, my angel, my celestial virgin, that left me in my creating. Canst marvel and deem me mad or blasphemous because I long to come to mine own other self again, to have thee, mine own sweet rib, evermore at my side, beneath my heart, caressing it and content to hear it murmur its undying love for thee—my sister, mein Liebchen—tell me, dost thou not love me?"
How like one inspired he pleaded! Surely she would yield, for I saw the steady light in her eyes falter, and for a moment she clasped her hands meekly before her, like a humble captive before some proud conqueror, but just for a moment—strange is the heart of woman—and then I was most inconsistently displeased to see her lift her gaze all unabashed to his as she said lightly, "What an orator thou art; now know I what we oft have marveled at, how thou wheedlest our good Brother Jabez into so much forgiveness for thy indifference to our holy life."
"So our good brother is wheedled," thought I, indignantly at first, and then smiling in a superior manner at the impossibility of such a thing as my being wheedled.
But my boy was not one of those who could easily be laughed away from his purpose, for I had taught him—in season and out—never to let sarcasm or ridicule have the slightest effect on him when he had once chosen his ground and knew he was right. If he did feel Genoveva's gentle mockery he showed it not, but instead did what I never could have had the courage to do, unless upon modest invitation, and that was to step resolutely forward and take Sister Genoveva by the hands and hold her thus against her feeble striving to free herself while he said to her boldly, "Thou dost love me or else wouldst not tease me so!"
"Hast forgotten our promise to good Brother Jabez when thou didst fight Johann, that we would never again talk to each other of love?"
"That promise hath no life; we were but children, and secondly, 'twas drawn from us by fear. Such promises Vaterchen, who knoweth the law, himself sayeth are not binding."
"Oh, thou lawyer," thought I to myself; "thou'rt far too worldly-wise for a minnesinger."
"Thou dost love me," he again said strongly.
"Thou tyrant to hold me against my will. Loose thy hold or else I shall not doubt I dislike thee," she declared right vehemently, though it seemed to me she might have struggled more earnestly to loosen his grasp.
But like a true-hearted man he obeyed her request, dropping her hands and saying softly, "Thou dost not hate me, then, thou cold-hearted nun?"
"Nay, naught of reason have I to hate thee, Sonnlein"—and how sweetly she said his name—"but dost not know, thou mighty hunter, woman expects little less than perfection in him she would love," and then she said maliciously, so I could not fathom her, "surely thou dost not think thyself perfect?"
"As to thy last," he rejoined, "I shall make answer, I am human. I leave it to woman to be perfect"—the flatterer. "As to thy first I doubt not thy sex ever looks for perfection in our imperfect sex, and it strikes me this accounts more for our Sisterhood than does their love for their heavenly Bridegroom, whom they see not until after death."
"Thou irreverent scoundrel," thought I.
"And yet," continued he, "when I think of him for whom our Sister Eunice lately left the Roses of Saron, it seemeth as though some of thy sex at least look not for perfection."
"Still I say our foolish hearts yearn for the ideal, but when we love the attainable we forgive everything, and this is woman's weakness."
"Nay, sister, 'tis her most glorious strength that she, an angel, can stoop down and make him see heaven in her."
"That I had the gift to speak with such a golden tongue," thought I, and then fortunately for us all—for I liked not my spying, and yet I could not leave unnoticed—Sonnlein chanced to see Brother Alburtus approach. Suddenly that scamp of mine kissed her full on her sweet lips. How she blushed and said not a word, as he held her close to him for a moment whispering passionately, "Thou must love me as I love thee, forever!" and then as they both saw Brother Alburtus perilously nigh, she quietly sat down again at her former place, most demurely, while Sonnlein passed on toward his Kammer.
As Brother Alburtus came upon her he stopped for a moment, hand rubbing hand as usual, looked at her in grave absorption and passed on as though she were not there.
And then I could have sworn I saw peering at her, and next at the departing form of Brother Alburtus, the loathsome features of that awful woman whom I had not seen for over ten years, from the shelter of a tangled clump of vines and brush, which I solemnly promised myself should be cut down on the morrow, root and branch.
Stealthily I crept out of my hiding-place and proceeded to where it seemed I had seen the witch, but as I came near I saw naught, and yet as I walked slowly away there came faintly to mine ears as though receding from me, that horrible, cackling laugh I had reason to hold in so much dread.