Hammer and Anvil Part 28

And yet at this time I no longer felt the wrath and burning indignation which had filled my breast the whole time that I was in custody under examination. The two hours in the open air had done me inexpressible good. It had been raining for some time before, and I had held out my hands to catch the drops; I had inhaled with delight the fresh air that blew into the wagon. Now the sun had again broken through the clouds, and, as it was near its setting, cast long ruddy streaks over the green sprouting fields and the sparkling meadows. Birds sang and twittered in the trees by the wayside; just before us in the east stood a brilliant rainbow with one foot on the mainland, and the other on the island. All nature seemed so calm and gentle, so free from hate or anger; on the contrary all things wore so mild a beauty and breathed such sweet peace, that I who from a child had sympathized with every mood of nature, could not close my heart to her soft solicitations. My heart sang with the birds; it floated on the moist pinions of the gentle breeze that bore blessings over the fields and meadows; it bathed in the bright hues of the bow of hope, which sprang from earth to heaven and back to earth again. The feeling that I was, as it were, a part of all these, and yet was sitting a prisoner in the jail-van, begat in me such a sense of pity for myself as I had never before experienced. I covered my face with my hands and wept.

The sun had now set; the eastern and western skies were glowing with the most splendid hues as the van rolled through the town-gate, rattled up two or three narrow, badly-paved streets, and stopped at last at a gateway in a high dead-wall. The gate slowly opened, the van rolled across a wide yard shut in on all sides with lofty blank walls and tall, gloomy-looking buildings, to the gate of the tallest and most forbidding of these, and there stopped. I had reached the place where I was to spend seven years because I had endeavored to guard my friend and protector from the results of a crime which I myself abhorred.

Seven years! I was determined that it should not be so long. I had read the adventures of Baron Trenck, and knew that it was possible to pierce thick masonry and undermine great fortress-walls. What he had succeeded in doing, I thought I could not fail to accomplish.

So my first proceeding, when the door closed behind the surly warden, was to examine my cell as closely as the faint remains of daylight would allow. If all the prisoners were so well lodged, there were certainly many of them that fared much worse when at liberty. The walls of the small room were simply whitewashed, it is true; but so were those of my garret at home. There was an iron bedstead with what seemed a very comfortable bed, a clothes-press, at the solitary window a large table with a drawer, two wooden chairs, and, to my surprise, a great arm-chair covered with leather, which strongly reminded me of the one in my room at Castle Zehrendorf.

Yes, I was again the guest of a Zehren, though this time he was only the superintendent of a prison. It seemed as if the Zehrens were inextricably woven into my life. They had brought me but little good fortune; and the proud l.u.s.tre that had formerly seemed to me to illume the name, had greatly paled in my eyes. The steuerrath, in whom the boy had beheld the incarnation of the highest earthly authority, what was he in the eyes of the prisoner but a liar and hypocrite who had ten-fold and a hundred-fold deserved the misfortunes he had brought upon men who were better than he? And the man here, who, sprung from such a family, had been willing to undertake such an office as his, must be even worse than the hypocrite and liar. I would let him feel the full measure of my contempt when I met him; I would tell him that if he chose to be a jailor, he ought at least to renounce the name which his n.o.ble brother had borne, who preferred dying by his own hand to falling into the hands of those who would have brought him here, behind this triply-bolted door, and these windows with ma.s.sive bars of iron.

The window was by no means so high as those in the guard-house, and I looked with curiosity through the bars. The prospect might have been worse. True, a high and perfectly blank wall shut out the view to the left, but on the right I could see into a court planted with trees, in which at no great distance was a two-storyed house presenting a gable covered entirely with vines. Behind the house there seemed to be a garden: at least I could catch glimpses of fruit-trees in blossom. All this had a very lovely and peaceful appearance in the dim light of the spring evening; and the shrill twittering of the swallows that skimmed in flocks past my window, might have made me forget that I was a tenant of a prison, had I not been painfully reminded of it by the sharp angle of one of the bars against which I had pressed my forehead.

I seized the bar with both my hands, and shook it with my whole force.

Six months of confinement had not deprived my muscles of their strength, as I well perceived. I felt as if with one wrench I could bring away the whole grating. Did I deceive myself, or did it yield a little? I was not mistaken; either the screws were loose, or the wood-work decayed; I could not at the moment determine which; but this seemed no grating that could hold me. My heart beat with the exertion and the joyful surprise. I had vowed to myself that they should not keep me seven years! But caution! it was not the grating alone that made a prisoner of me. Were the grating away, there was a depth of at least thirty feet to the stone pavement of the court. And were I safely down, there were doubtless other difficulties to overcome, and a baffled attempt at escape might make my position incalculably worse.

I heard a rustling in the pa.s.sage. Footsteps drew near and came to my door. I sprang back from the window and stood in the centre of the room, when there was a rattling of keys on the outside, the door opened, and a man of tall stature entered, pa.s.sing the turnkey, and the door was closed after him. He stood for a moment at the threshold, and then approached me with a peculiar light step. From the ruddy evening clouds there still fell a pale rosy light into the room; in this rosy glow I always see him again when I think of him--and how often do I think of him, with the deepest emotions of grat.i.tude and love!

Over the table at which I am writing these words, hangs his portrait, painted by a beloved hand. It is a most perfect likeness. It would recall to my memory every feature, every line, were it possible that I could forget them. And now, did I close my eyes, he would stand before me again as he stood on that evening, in the rosy sunset light, and not less clearly would I hear his voice, whose soft, deep tone I then heard for the first time, and whose first word was one of pity and sympathy.

"Poor youth!"

How deeply must the prison air have poisoned my heart, that these words and the tone in which they were spoken did not move me! Alas, it is one of my most painful recollections that this was so; that I rudely repulsed the hand of the n.o.blest of men, and deliberately wounded the kindest heart on earth. But the narrative of my life would have no worth, if my faults were not honestly set down. And I have often thought that I might not have learned to love him so well had I been less obdurate at first, had I not given him the occasion to heap upon me all the wealth of his benevolence and love. And yet I err in this.

Jewels of the costliest price, of the purest water, need no dark foil.

"Poor youth!" he said again, and held out his white and almost transparent hand; but let it fall again, when, instead of taking it and pressing it with reverence to my lips, as I should have done had I known him, I folded my arms and stepped back.

"Yes," he said, and his voice sounded, if possible, still gentler than before, "it is very hard, very cruel, the fate which has befallen you for a crime which, whatever it may be in the eyes of the judge who must follow the stern letter of the law, in the eyes of others merits a milder name, for at least it does in mine. I am the brother of the man for whose fault you are suffering."

He seemed to expect an answer from me, or at least some word of acknowledgement, which I would not give. I would not do my jailor the favor to help him in his attempt to show himself in another light than that in which I saw him.

"It is a strange caprice of fortune," he continued, after a short pause, always in the same gentle manner, "that one brother should to a certain extent be the instrument of punis.h.i.+ng you for the injury which another has done you--a chance for which I am thankful, and which I think I shall rightly employ by--but of this another time. To-day the gloomy shadow of the first dreary impression a place like this must make upon a spirit like yours, lies too heavily upon you; though I could speak with the tongues of angels, I could find no entrance to your heart, which is closed by anger and hatred. I have merely come to perform a duty which my office and I may say my heart prescribes. And this also is my duty, so that you may freely answer me without feeling that your pride is making concessions. Have you any wish that it is in my power to grant?"

"No," I answered, "for you could hardly give me a day's shooting over the heaths of Zehrendorf."

A sad smile played around the superintendent's delicate lips.

"I have heard," he said, "that you used to hunt much with my brother, and that you are yourself a skilful hunter. The hunter's nature is a peculiar one. I think I understand it, for I was born with the hunter's instincts; but there is no room for its exercise in these court-yards and gardens. I seldom have a holiday, and still more rarely avail myself of it; and in this respect I enjoy, and indeed desire, but little advantage over my prisoners. So it would be a hard trial for me, if with the old pa.s.sion I still possessed my former vigor; and thus I may almost count it a piece of good fortune that at the Battle of Leipzig I was shot through the lungs, so that it would avail me nothing though I had the range of the boundless hunting-grounds of America. I have since learned to confine my activity within narrower limits. My favorite recreation is the turning-lathe. It is light work, and yet often proves too heavy for an invalid like myself I shall probably soon give it up, and must choose some still lighter work. But I should not like to find myself condemned to absolute inactivity. You do not now know, but you will soon learn, how great a blessing to a prisoner is a mechanical occupation which fixes his wandering thoughts upon some near and easily obtainable result which shapes itself under his hand. And now I will leave you. I have still two visits to make, besides my evening round through the building. One thing more: the old man who will wait upon you, is, despite his rough ways, a thoroughly good man, whom I have known for many years, and who has rendered me in my life the most important services. You can trust him absolutely. Now, good-night, and good sleep to you, and dream of the freedom which I hope you will sooner regain than you now think."

He gave me a friendly nod, and left the room with the slow, light step with which he had entered. I looked after him with fixed eyes, and pa.s.sed my hand over my brow; the silent cell seemed to have become suddenly darker.

CHAPTER II.

I was still standing on the same spot, endeavoring to collect my thoughts, when the door again opened, and the old turnkey who had first received me, entered with a lighted candle, which he placed upon the table. Then returning to the door, he took from some female whose form was barely perceptible, a waiter upon which was a collation, and even a bottle of wine. He laid a snow-white napkin over one corner of the great oak table, placed everything neatly and orderly, took a step back and cast a satisfied look at his work, then an angry one at me, and said with a voice which strikingly resembled the growl of a great mastiff: "There!"

"It seems this is for me," I remarked, indifferently.

"Don't see who else it could be for," growled the old man.

The roast meat on the dish had a very appetizing odor; for half a year I had not tasted a drop of wine; and what was more, I did not feel towards the surly turnkey the aversion that I felt towards the gently-speaking, courteous superintendent; but I was resolved to accept no favors from my jailor.

"I owe this to the kindness of the Herr Superintendent?" I asked, taking my seat at the table.

"This and more," said the old man.

"For instance?"

"For instance, that one has our best cell, with a look-out into the garden, and not one looking into the prison-yard, where neither sunlight nor moonlight ever comes."

"Thanks," said I, "anything else?"

"That one can wear his handsome town-clothes, instead of unbleached drilling; which is not such a bad rig, though, after all."

"Thanks," said I; "anything else?"

"And that one has Sergeant Sussmilch for warden."

"With whom I have the honor?"

"With whom one has the honor."

"Much obliged."

"Well you may be."

I looked up to get a better view of the man whose relation to me was so fraught with honor and advantage. He appeared to be above fifty years of age, of short, compact build, who seemed to stand remarkably firmly for his age upon his short bowed legs. From his broad shoulders hung a pair of quite disproportionately long arms, with great brown hairy hands, which evidently had not lost their strength of grasp. From his furrowed and wrinkled face, which might once have been good-looking, twinkled under gray bushy eyebrows a pair of clear, good-humored eyes, which in vain tried to look fierce and cruel. His smooth, close-cropped gray hair lay thick above his bronzed forehead; and beneath his great hooked nose, like an eagle's beak, a heavy moustache drooped on either side far below his firm chin. Sergeant Sussmilch was, in later years, long my true friend; in hours of trial he rendered me priceless services; he taught my eldest boys to ride; and when, five years ago, we carried him to his last resting-place, we all heartily sorrowed over him; but at this moment I was considering what amount of resistance he would be likely to offer in a contingency which I deemed very probable, and thought that I should be sorry to have to take the life of the old fellow who was so delightfully surly.

"If one has looked at Sergeant Sussmilch long enough, one will do well to fall to the supper, which is getting no better by standing," he said.

"It may stand there for me," I answered. "I have no appet.i.te for the Herr Superintendent's roast meat and wine."

"Might as well have said so at once," growled Herr Sussmilch, commencing to replace the things on the waiter.

"Who the deuce was to know what your custom here is," I said in a sulky tone.

"The custom here is that one has to work when he wants to eat."

"That is not true," I said. "I am not condemned to labor: I was sentenced to seven years' imprisonment, and should by rights have been sent to the fortress, where decent people go."

"Meaning one's self?" asked Herr Sussmilch.

"Meaning one's self."

"One is altogether mistaken," he replied, having by this time cleared away the things. "In the prison one is compelled to work, unless one has a father or some one who will pay for his keep. In this case one has a father, and gets from him ten _silbergroschen_ daily."

"Herr Sussmilch," I cried, stepping up to the old man, "I take for granted that you are telling me the truth; and now I give you my word that I will rather starve in the dungeon like a rat, than take a penny from my father."