The Undying Past

by Hermann Sudermann

X

At the same hour the Halewitz state-carriage drew up before the gateway of the farm at Wengern.

The party from the castle were coming to church to return thanks for the master's happy return.

The two young girls in their white muslins (grandmamma believed in simplicity of attire) walked in front, their arms round each other, and their faces grave. Leo followed with his mother leaning on his arm. He swung along, broad-shouldered and well-groomed, glorying in the full consciousness of having returned to a noble heritage. His white waistcoat gleamed like freshly fallen snow, and the seals which hung in festive array against the slender roundness of his figure made, as he walked, a slight jingle which was pleasing to his ear, and heightened his good-humour with himself and the world.

And what a Sunday morning it was! The fields that had been already cleared, glittered like gold-embroidered tapestry, and the meadows, where the grass was beginning to recover from the stroke of the scythe, were spangled with a thousand dewdrops. The village, wrapped in its sabbath calm, lay in the shade of its limes, still tinged with the lingering rosiness of dawn. Everywhere crooked sunbeams danced on the smooth roadway, and from the cottage chimneys curls of smoke rose gaily into the blue canopy, where they melted in shining wraiths, like the vapour from sacrificial altars. Sunflowers and hollyhocks bloomed in the villagers' gardens--the whole picture breathed forth a faint prescience of autumn, a promise of harvest and enjoyment of the fruits of the earth. The people who stood before their doors bared their heads, and the children, overcome with shy awe, crept away under the bean-stalks.

"Come along to church," he called to the men. "Those who are pious in the morning are welcome to a free beer-drinking in the afternoon."

He wanted every one to rejoice with him, and to be as thankful to the Almighty as he was. His mother felt a soft pressure on her arm. She was walking beside him in her black satin dress and silver embroidered lace shawl, full of a pride and joy too great for words.

Now she looked up at him and inquired gently, "What is it, my son?"

He bent down to her and kissed her through her veil on both cheeks.

Silently she choked back her tears. Almost at the same moment the two young girls in front yielded to the same impulse and gave each other a kiss, looking round afterwards as if it were a crime.

"See," Leo whispered in his mother's ear. "They imitate their elders."

"There is so much love in the world that doesn't know what to do to find an outlet," said she.

"Now, mummy," he laughed. "You speak as if you wore trousers."

"Why, dear boy?"

"Because that remark is almost too apt to come from any one in petticoats."

Grandmamma thought this an abominable insinuation, and passing on to speak of Hertha, she expressed her fear that the way in which he treated her was not the right one, that it had evidently damped her, and might alienate her from him altogether.

He was going to make some reply, but at that moment they came within the sacred boundary which surrounded the small unpretending village churchyard, where, under the shadow of the primeval limes, the Sellenthins for centuries had found their last resting-place. A row of ivy-covered mounds, each enclosed in its simple iron railings, ran along under the whitewashed church wall, only divided from it by a narrow gravel path. There was a soft rustling in the boughs of the limes, and the deep tones of the organ, subdued and indistinct, coming through the high round window, fell on Leo's ear.

Involuntarily he stood still and folded his hands.

His mother, who divined his feelings, withdrew her hand quietly from his arm, and fell back a few steps. The girls, who had hurried on, were now out of sight.

He felt his heart swell like a flood within him.

Since he was four years old he had trodden this path. Within the whitewashed fence, at the gate of which the village swains gathered, and where, as of old, the bread-woman with her basket of loaves, and the old soldier with the wooden-leg and forage-cap, crouched on the cobble-stones, he had been used to shake off the week-day dust and cobwebs that clogged his soul. The high spirits and troubles of the schoolboy; the youth's defiance, and war of the senses; the grown man's household cares and imperiousness; aye, and that wild sweet mysterious something which now was done with for ever,--all these had been left behind him as he entered the churchyard gates. The graves of his ancestors had ever sent a pure, soothing thrill through his being, so that he had come into God's House as one absolved and purified. And yet the feeling of holy reverence which awoke in him now was not comparable with anything that had ever before appealed to his careless heart with exhortation and blessing. He asked himself, in astonishment, how he could all these years have borne so carelessly the terrible dead weight on his mind, without doing violence to the world or going mad. Only now, when the burden had dropped off, did he know what he had been dragging about with him, and a sense of unutterable blissful relief took possession of him at the thought that he might in future hold up his head as a free man.

He caught his mother's hand in his. She had been busying herself with removing weeds from the foot of the railings, but now came and stood beside him before the last grave in the row, the grave of Leo's father.

Leo Eberhard von Sellenthin.

"Woe to him that coveteth an evil covetousness to his house, that he may set his nest on high."

Such was the inscription which, according to the desire of the deceased, was carved on the rugged marble tombstone. He had been a powerful man, irresistible when amiable, terrible in wrath. He had maintained a whole troop of mistresses, and had allowed two magnificent estates, Ellerthal and Rothwitz, to pass into a stranger's hands, to save, as he said, the honour of his house. Old Kletzingk, Ulrich's father, and Count Prachwitz, Johanna's husband, had been his cronies. It was current gossip amongst the country folk that in an hour of dissipation he had gambled away his young and blooming eldest daughter to the count, a daring steeple-chase rider, and a man given up to betting and horse-racing. Before he reached his seventieth year he had been laid in his grave, and his neglected wife, to whose share there had fallen from time to time only a few crumbs of love from the table of others, sighed and mourned for him still, and held his memory sacred.

Mother and son breathed a quiet prayer, and took stolen glances at each other the while. She would fain gather from his face whether he had forgiven his father for the sale of the land; he from hers whether she still cherished love and regret in her heart for the dead. And then they both smiled.

"I thank you so much," she said softly, caressing his arm. "I should still have loved him, even if he had left us naked to beg by the roadside."

"But why do you thank me?" he asked.

"Because I can read in your face that you no longer reproach him."

"Would it be fitting for me to reproach him," he answered, "when I began where he left off? But never mind, mummy, all is going to look up now. I have got such a nice motto of my own. It will help me a lot, even to contend with the devil himself! But I would rather keep it to myself, and not tell you what it is, for if you knew how much hangs on it, you would be sure to cry out and wring your hands. Five or even ten years hence we will talk of this again, and then I shall be able to tell you if it has answered."

They turned and walked to the vestry, where the two girls were waiting for them.

The squire's family enjoyed the privilege of entering the church by the vestry door. The first two rows of pews, which were cushioned and divided from the rest by a carved oak screen, were reserved for their use. The pastor must already have gone into the chancel, for the vestry was empty. Leo had wanted to greet him before service, and he was a little put out now that he had not first paid him a visit in his own house.

"Is Johanna there?" he asked Elly, who was peeping at the congregation through a crack in the door.

She started as if she had been caught committing a theft, for she had just at that moment seen the Herr Kandidat, who was by this time seated in the parsonage pew.

"What's the matter?" asked Leo.

Whereupon Hertha threw her arm round her waist protectingly, and gave him a hostile look.

"Allons," he said, smiling, and then set his face, for he knew that as he came into the church the gaze of all his tenants would be fastened upon him.

The first thing he saw was Johanna's dark eyes with a peculiar light in them. She fixed them on him unflinchingly. He gave her a careless, indifferent nod, but took care that the girls as well as his mother should fill the places in the pew between him and his eldest sister. He had no wish to be disturbed in his worship by the near proximity of the gloomy, inscrutable face.

The pastor had mounted the pulpit and thrown himself on his knees, with his head resting against the edge of the pulpit cushion. His face remained buried in his arms, and only the well-oiled dome of his skull flashed down on the congregation. Leo gave him a scrutinizing upward glance, and murmured to himself, with a sly smile, "He's feeling sick, I'll bet."

Just above the worthy man's crown a wisp of hair stood on end, and, like a reed in the wind, flopped hither and thither. Leo's father used to gauge the sabbatical alcoholic condition of the stout minister by this unmistakable sign. The knowledge had early descended from father to son, and when his old tutor was in a good humour Leo had many a time teased him about it.

"Wonder how he'll come through the ordeal," thought he. For of course the old fellow would have to refer to the home-coming of his high-born patron and send up a prayer of thanksgiving to Heaven. He leaned back comfortably in his seat, twirled his thumbs, and felt prepared to sit through cheerfully the service of praise which seemed especially ordained to glorify himself. The sunbeams danced everywhere, casting little shafts of red, green, and yellow light on the steps of the altar, the desks of the choir, and the tiles of the floor, illuminating the grey faces of the old, and making the bright colouring of the young more radiant. They climbed up the leaden organ-pipes and sat laughing on the brown-paper hymn-books. The branches of the limes swayed gently against the stained-glass windows, as if they too wished to greet the returned squire; and when the leaves swept the window-panes there was a rustling and murmuring, like children whispering to each other before falling asleep. A peaceful dreamy atmosphere of home reigned in the quiet little church.

Pastor Brenckenberg lifted his head. From his bloated countenance his eyes, full of gloom and bull-dog obstinacy, surveyed the congregation. They passed from one to the other as if they would have liked to devour one after the other. When they reached Leo they remained riveted.

"What have you taken into your old pate to-day?" the latter said to himself, and acknowledged the tyrant with a friendly wink; but it was not returned with any sign of recognition.

The prayers came to an end. The epistle followed uneventfully. But in the big man's voice there was a growling undertone which reminded Leo of his worst boyish scrapes in the days when that great red puffy hand wielded the birch over him.

"Beloved in the Lord," the pastor began his discourse, making his ten finger-tips meet as he spoke, "last night I had a curious and terrifying dream...."

"Yes, yes, I dare say," thought Leo. "Why drink so much beer on Saturday night, old boy?"

"I dreamt that I was Nathan, that prophet of the Old Testament who walked the earth in the days of the godly King David, and to whom it was granted to see the greatest glory of the people of Israel. Well, I was this prophet." He made a pause, and blew his nose. When he had straightened himself again, his eyes rolled so threateningly in their red sockets that Elly, who sat next to Leo, involuntarily edged nearer him. "There appeared to me the Lord, the Lord of Sabaoth, at the mention of whose very name we all shudder. He it was, and no other. His beard was of flames, His eyes were burning suns, a mantle of fire hung from his shoulders and nearly covered the whole horizon with its folds. I fell on my knees and trembled. Have any of you ever seen me tremble? Not one of you ... but, beloved brethren, at the sight of the Lord I trembled, for that was no small thing. One of you arch-sinners in Wengern, who idle all day under the hay-ricks and play the fool all night in the taverns, would simply be blown to the four winds of heaven if the Lord deigned to reveal Himself to any such beggarly hound."

"A good beginning," thought Leo, who knew this little joke of old; and he chuckled to himself, well-pleased; but the glances which the old man again cast on him seemed to promise him nothing pleasant.

"And the Lord spoke to me. His voice was like the roar of the sea when a storm is raging. He spake, 'Nathan, get thee gone to David thy king and My servant. He has done evil in My sight, and his deed stinks before heaven!' 'What has he done, dear God?' I asked. 'What has he done? Shame on you, you short-sighted priest, if your eyes have not seen. He has seduced Uriah's wife, and Uriah the Hittite he hath suffered to be put to death at the hands of his captain, Joab, before the gates of Thebez, so that she should tarry with him and live as his wedded wife.' 'Verily, dear God,' said I, 'that is an ugly story. But Thou knowest how here on earth every deadly sin is permitted to the great--robbery, murder, adultery, bearing false witness, and other crimes; but the poor and humble, the peasants, and in particular the peasants' sons, may not commit the smallest sin--not even play with their tobacco-pouches in church'--of which those sitting on the back benches may make a note."

A solemn silence followed; only from the bottom of the church came a rustling sound like some one hurriedly putting things away.

Leo's smile died. He let his folded hands drop from the white waistcoat and fidgeted uneasily.

The old man went on: "'And what is more, dear God,' said I to the Lord, 'how easily I might come to lose my office of prophet and have to go begging in the streets, for the kings of this world do not like to be told the truth.' But the Lord spake, 'Fear not, what thou doest is done in My name.' Therewith He disappeared. But I girded up my loins and set forth to journey to the palace of the king. There I expected to find King David weeping in sackcloth and ashes, such as he has described in the beautiful psalm of repentance, which of course you all would know, if you did not prefer spending Sunday afternoon shooting at the bull's-eye, instead of staying at home piously reading your Bibles.... But what do you think met my eyes? The king was seated at meat in splendid raiment, laughing and jocund, a bottle of sweet wine before him, and beside him on the right hand was his beloved Bathsheba--for that was the woman's name. He had grown stout, and he raised his glass to drink to me. Therewith he called out to me, 'Well, you priestling, what's brought you to me once more?' For like all the great ones of the earthy he delighted to mock at the servants of the Lord, although they can't do without them, if they want all their people to obey them, even such scum as have gone to sleep again to-day in this church. But I knew no fear, for the spirit of the Lord was within me. And I rent my garments and cried, 'Woe, woe, unto thee, my king, what hast thou done?'"

Leo could not be in doubt. While the pastor almost shrieked forth these last words till they echoed shrilly through the church, his small rolling eyes were fixed piercingly, and angrily, upon him.

What did it mean?

Was there another person in the world who knew? Could the secret have found its way from the grave where it lay buried, to pop out of this old man's brain?

"But I threw myself on the ground and tore my hair," he continued, with fresh zeal, and caught at his thin locks with both hands. "'Woe, woe,' I cried. 'Thou hast shamed and degraded thy kingly office, thou hast rebelled against the Lord's commands. A fire from Heaven shall consume thee. Thy memory shall be wiped from off the face of the earth which thou hast polluted with thy lusts.' Thus I cried, and a shudder shook the sinful body of the king."

At the same instant Leo felt a sensation of hot and cold water running down his neck.

"Too absurd," he thought, grasping the rough ledge of the pew. "Can an old sot like this give me qualms of conscience?"

"'What art thou raving about, stupid priest?' the king made reply. 'Do you think my conscience will suffer qualms through you?'"

Leo started. To the exact words the preacher seemed to have divined his thoughts.

"And he took hold of his bottle of wine to throw it at my head. But the majesty of the Lord fell on me, His poor servant, so that my aspect was terrible and filled him with fear. His pride fell away, and he stuttered forth, quite downcast, 'What shall I do to become once more the dear child of my dear Lord God?' 'It shall so come to pass,' said I, 'if thou repentest. Thou shalt moan and beat thy breast in sackcloth and ashes, because of thy fault, for it stinks before heaven. So speaketh the Lord thy God.'"

Leo looked down. The man above him was half prophet, half mountebank, but he was right. The deed stank before Heaven. No jesting could alter the fact.

"And the king grew angry, and called Bathsheba to him, who stood shaking in his presence. 'Get thee gone, thou temptress, for I am sick of thee. It was for thy sake that I went astray into the path of sin, and can no more be redeemed therefrom by Heavenly Grace. Thou canst marry another man, and no more come in my sight.' And Bathsheba, who was very beautiful, and from crown to heel a courtesan, began to weep and wail and cover her face. But I came between them and I said, 'Cast her not out, for she is the companion of thy sin. Thou shalt repent for her as thou repentest for thyself. Thou shalt not part from her, so that thy sin shall never be forgotten. Only in that way canst thou conciliate the Lord God who is eternally to be praised. Amen.'"

"When will this come to an end?" thought Leo, and cast a defiant glance of inquiry up at the pulpit to meet the pastor's eyes, which flamed like swords beneath his grizzled brows.

"Then a great longing came over the heart of the king. He sank on his knees and cried, 'Lord, Lord, hearken unto me in my wretchedness.' But the Lord heard him not, and His wrath was written on the heavens in letters of fire; and in a voice of thunder He cried down on the earth in His wrath, so that the mountains shook, and the water-floods dried up between their banks. And the king besought me, saying, 'Nathan, Nathan, help me pray to the Lord God of Sabaoth, so that He turneth His wrath away from me, and no more visiteth it on my head.' ... Thereupon I sank on my knees, and prayed also. 'Lord, Lord, I have ever loved him; as a little lad, he crouched between my knees to hear Thy Holy Word, for the first time, from my lips. He was truthful and frank--and his laugh was like a peal of bells. Thy sunshine lay on his curls, so that he was the heart's idol of all who looked on him. Lord, Lord, star-light was in his eyes, and innocence in his white soul---- He promised to be a great light as Thy appointed ruler of the people, when Thou didst anoint him, as Thy representative on earth, with the sacred oil of the kingdom of Israel.'"

Leo stared down at the ground. He could no longer endure his old tutor's fiery glance. The red tiles of the floor flashed before his eyes like lakes of blood.

Not a sound broke the stillness in the crowded little church. The grim power of this biblical eloquence stirred and affected all, even the most simple-minded. On the dull, weather-beaten faces of the peasants and labourers there was a look of intense and painful excitement. It was as if every one felt that God, through the mouth of His minister, was in this hour passing judgment on a sinner.

But no! how could they feel this? Why, even in the souls of those sitting nearest to the judged man no suspicion had dawned as to whom the thunderbolts were being hurled at. Grandmamma gazed up in uncomprehending calm at the foaming zealot; Hertha measured him, her head uplifted boldly, with disapproving eyes; Elly cast a gentle timid glance from time to time at the parsonage pew, whence Kurt Brenckenberg ogled her as much as the sacred place and the presence of the august preacher in the pulpit would permit.

Johanna had flung herself on the hassock, and kept her face hidden in her hands. She continued kneeling, or rather prostrating herself there, motionless, save for the convulsive tremour which now, and again shook her tall frame, as if she were suppressing a secret sob.

The old pastor, also, had thrown himself on his knees. In fervid wrestling he flung up his hands towards Heaven, and tears streamed over his swollen face. In a voice half strangled by weeping he continued:--

"'Hast Thou not seen him on horseback. Lord, Lord, my God, riding in magnificence at the head of Thy troops, as he went forth to fight the Amalekites, the helmet on his head flashing with gold and jewels, the sword that he wielded for the greatness of Thy kingdom like lightning in his hand---- Thou hast heard him playing on the harp, sweetly singing to Thy praise and glory. Thou hast heard how he sang and played on harp and psalter, to bring home the Ark of the Covenant, to build Thee a house of splendour, of ivory wrought about with precious stones. Hast Thou forgotten the good he hath done unto his tribe and the people he hath reigned over? How wisely he filled the offices of state, and rejoiced before Thee, O Lord. For the sake of the love Thou bore for him, for the sake of the love he bears towards us, I, in the dust, beseech Thee, O God, to pardon him. I will neither eat nor drink, and I will go bareheaded at midday, and will walk with my naked soles on red-hot bricks, till Thou hast bowed Thine ear to my petition, and renewed Thy covenant with David, Thy servant and my master.'"

He ceased, and wiped the tears which were rolling into his mouth. Here and there from the benches came a moan. One old woman whimpered, as if she were being pricked by spears. Sobbing was general throughout the congregation. Kurt Brenckenberg looked round on the display of emotion, smiling and shrugging his shoulders, then made eyes at Elly. Meanwhile, the moment had come for grandmamma to produce her smelling-bottle. Only five minutes afterwards she was fast asleep.

Leo sat cowering in his seat. He felt as if a heavy cold stone rested on his head, so that his neck involuntarily bent under the burden. His breast seemed to contract. He fumbled nervously with the white waistcoat which still gleamed as immaculately fresh as in the early morning sunshine, but to his distorted vision there were now daubs of yellow dirt upon it. He felt as if he must defend himself, or, at any rate, speak to some human being. So he bent down to Elly and whispered, with a faint smile--

"The old fellow makes it warm for us with his curses."

Elly looked at him for a moment with big, vacant eyes, and then turned to her hymn-book again.

The pastor resumed his petition. His exhortations became more and more fervid, his voice more and more broken with tears, and the whole time his eyes never left Leo's face.

Even if it had not been so perfectly natural on this occasion for the dependent parson to refer in his discourse to the powerful Church patron and landowner, there could have been no manner of doubt for whom his sermon of vengeance and penitence was intended. But outwardly, at least, Leo was on his guard against betraying the horrid suspicion which long since had become a certainty in his heart.

The words of the peasant orator, like waves of flame, rolled over him, rising and falling with deadening regularity, till at last they filled and oppressed his brain. Yet he still fought with all his might to master the tormenting thoughts rising within him, to trample them down with brutal scorn. But it was in vain. The pictures of his vanished youth, which his whilom tutor skilfully interwove with his scriptural phantasies, were too forcibly driven home for his relaxed soul to resist them.

And then suddenly he started, as if a whip had lashed him. The word "Jonathan" descended from overhead, uttered in a tone that was alike caressing and threatening.

He knew why the old pastor leaned his bulky form far over the edge of the pulpit, as if he would have delighted to fly at the unrepentant sinner's throat, knew well why his fat fingers pointed at him, why the plump, bull throat twisted and craned in demoniacal contortions.

The zealot had now played his last trump, and would have liked to strengthen the effect with the power of his fists. But this he dared not do.

Jonathan! The mere mention of that name had been sufficient to conjure up before Leo's mental eye the vision of his friend in the rôle of an accusing angel. He gazed at him with his luminous eyes--he, the betrayed and deceived--and, between the thunder claps of the Brenckenberg lungs, his voice, sad and low, asked perpetually--

"Why hast thou done this thing?"

Then was heard a cry from a woman's mouth, a half-stifled gurgle of fear.

Johanna had fainted. Enveloped in her heavy, black veil, she lay, a motionless heap, on the red tiles in the shadow of the pew.