Chapter 5
Grandmother was staring before her, with the ecstatic smile of madness.
Oh! I was so frightened that even now my mind wanders at the remembrance.
This smile of madness is so contagious! Slowly nodding with her gray head, she again fell all in a heap. It was apparent that some time must elapse before this recollection, once risen in her mind, could settle to rest again. After what seemed to us hours she slowly raised herself again and continued her tragic narrative.
"He was already the fourth dweller in this house of temptations.
"After his death his brother Kalman came to join our circle. To the end he remained single; very early in life he was deceived, and from that moment became a hater of mankind.
"His gloom grew year by year more incurable; he avoided every distraction, every gathering; his favorite haunt was this garden--this place here. He planted the beautiful juniper-trees before the door; such trees were in those days great rarities.
"He made no attempt to conceal from us--in fact, he often declared openly to us that his end could be none other than his brothers' had been.
"The pistol, with which akos had shot himself, he kept by him as a souvenir, and in sad jest declared it was his inheritance.
"Here he would wander for hours together in reverie, in melancholy, until the falling snow confined him to his room. He detested the winter greatly. When the first snowflake fell, his ill-humor turned to the agony of despair; he loathed the atmosphere of his rooms and everything to be found within the four walls. We so strongly advised him to winter in Italy, that he finally gave in to the proposal. We carefully packed his trunks; ordered his post-chaise. One morning, as everything stood ready for departure, he said that, before going for this long journey, he would once again take leave of his brothers. In his travelling-suit he came down here to the vault, and closed the iron door after him, enjoining that no one should disturb him. So we waited behind; and, as hour after hour pa.s.sed by and still he did not appear, we went after him. We forced open the closed door, and there found him lying in the middle of the tomb--he had gone to the country where there is no more winter.
"He had shot himself in the heart, with the same pistol as his brother, as he had foretold.
"Only two male members of the family remained: my son and the son of akos. Lorincz--that was the name of akos' son--was reared too kindly by his poor, good mother; she loved him excessively, and thereby spoiled him. The boy became very fastidious and sensitive. He was eleven years old when his mother noticed that she could not command his obedience.
Once the child played some prank, a mere trifle; how can a child of eleven years commit any great offence? His mother thought she must rebuke him. The boy laughed at the rebuke; he could not believe his mother was angry; then, in consequence, his mother boxed his ears. The boy left the room; behind the garden there was a fishpond; in that he drowned himself.
"Well, is it necessary to take one's life for such a thing? For one blow, given by the soft hand of a mother to a little child, to take such a terrible revenge! to cut the thread of life, which as yet he knew not; How many children are struck by a mother, and the next day received into her bosom, with mutual forgiveness and a renewal of reciprocal love?
Why, a blow from a mother is merely one proof of a mother's love. But it brought him to take his life."
The cold perspiration stood out in beads all over me.
That bitterness I, too, feel in myself. I also am a child, just as old as that other was; I have never yet been beaten. Once my parents were compelled to rebuke me for wanton petulance; and from head to foot I was pervaded through and through by one raving idea: "If they beat me I should take my own life." So I am also infected with the hereditary disease--the awful spirit is holding out his hand over me; captured, accursed, he is taking me with him. I am betrayed to him! Only instead of thras.h.i.+ng me, they had punished me with fasting fare; otherwise, I also should already be in this house.
Grandmother clasped her hands across her knees and continued her story.
"Your father was older at the time of this event--seventeen years of age. Ever since his birth the world has been rife with discord and revolutions; all the nations of the world pursued a bitter warfare one against another. I scarce expected my only son would live to be old enough to join the army. Thither, thither, where death with a scythe in both hands was cutting down the ranks of the armed warriors; thither, where the children of weeping mothers were being trampled on by horses'
hoofs; thither, thither, where they were casting into a common grave the mangled remains of darling first-borns; only not hither, not into this awful house, into these horrible ranks of
"No, it is not true; don't believe what I said,--'If only the news of his death had come instead!'
"No; surely I rejoiced, surely I wept in my joy and happiness, when I could clasp him anew in my arms, and I blessed G.o.d for not having taken him away. Yet, why did I rejoice? Why did I triumph before the world, saying, 'See, what a fine, handsome son I have! a dauntless warrior, fame and honor he has brought home with him. My pride--my gladness? Now they lie here! What did I gain with him--he, too, followed the rest! He, too! he, whom I loved best of all--he whose every Paradise was here on earth!"
My brother wept; I s.h.i.+vered with cold.
Then suddenly, like a lunatic, grandmother seized our hands, and leaped up from her sitting-place.
"Look yonder! there is still _one_ empty niche--room for _one_ coffin.
Look well at that place; then go forth into the world and think upon what the mouth of this dark hollow said.
"I had thought of making you swear here never to forsake G.o.d, never to continue the misfortunes of this family; but why this oath? That some one should take with him to the other world one sin more, in that in the hour of his death he forswore himself? What oath would bind him who says: 'The mercy of G.o.d I desire not'?
"But instead, I brought you here and related you the history of your family. Later you shall know still more therefrom, that is yet secret and obscure before you. Now look once more around you, and then--let us go out.
"Now you know what is the meaning of this melancholy house, whose door the ivy enters with the close of a man's life from time to time. You know that the family brings its suicides..h.i.ther to burial, because elsewhere they have no place. But you know also that in this awful sleeping-room there is s.p.a.ce for only _one_ person more, and the second will find no other resting-place than the grave-ditch!"
With these words grandmother pa.s.sionately thrust us both from her. In terror we fell into each other's arms before her frenzied gaze.
Then, with a shrill cry, she rushed toward us and embraced us both with all the might of a lunatic; wept and gasped, till finally she fainted utterly away.
CHAPTER II
THE GIRL SUBSt.i.tUTE[4]
[Footnote 4: In former days it was the custom for a Magyar and a German family to interchange children, with a view to their learning the two languages perfectly. So f.a.n.n.y Fromm is interchanged with Desiderius aronffy.]
A pleasant old custom was then in fas.h.i.+on in our town: the interchange of children,--perhaps it is in fas.h.i.+on still. In our many-tongued fatherland one town is German-speaking, the other Magyar-speaking, and, being brothers, after all to understand each other was a necessity.
Germans must learn Magyar and Magyars, German. And peace is restored.
So a method of temporarily exchanging children grew up: German parents wrote to Magyar towns, Magyar parents to German towns, to the respective school directors, to ask if there were any pupils who could be interchanged. In this manner one child was given for another, a kind, gentle, womanly thought!
The child left home, father, mother, brother, only to find another home among strangers: another mother, other brothers and sisters, and his absence did not leave a void at home; child replaced child; and if the adopted mother devoted a world of tenderness to the pilgrim, it was with the idea that her own was being thus treated in the far distance; for a mother's love cannot be bought at a price but only gained by love.
It was an inst.i.tution that only a woman's thought could found: so different from that frigid system invented by men which founded nunneries, convents, and closed colleges for the benefit of susceptible young hearts where all memory of family life was permanently wiped out of their minds.
After that unhappy day, which, like the unmovable star, could never go so far into the distance as to be out of sight, grandmother more than once said to us in the presence of mother, that it would not be good for us to remain in this town; we must be sent somewhere else.
Mother long opposed the idea. She did not wish to part from us. Yet the doctors advised the same course. When the spasms seized her, for days we were not allowed to visit her, as it made her condition far worse.
At last she gave her consent, and it was decided that we two should be sent to Pressburg. My brother, who was already too old to be exchanged, went to the home of a Privy Councillor, who was paid for taking him in, and my place was to be taken by a still younger child than myself, by a little German girl, f.a.n.n.y, the daughter of Henry Fromm, baker.
Grandmother was to take us in a carriage--in those days in Hungary we had only heard rumors of steamboats--and to bring the girl subst.i.tute back with her.
For a week the whole household sewed, washed, ironed and packed for us; we were supplied with winter and summer clothing: on the last day provisions were prepared for our journey, as if we had intended to make a voyage to the end of the world, and in the evening we took supper in good time, that we might rise early, as we had to start before daybreak.
That was my first departure from my home. Many a time since then have I had to say adieu to what was dearest to me; many sorrows, more than I could express, have afflicted me: but that first parting caused me the greatest pain of all, as is proved by the fact that after so long an interval I remember it so well. In the solitude of my own chamber, I bade farewell separately to all those little trifles that surrounded me: G.o.d bless the good old clock that hast so oft awakened me. Beautiful raven, whom I taught to speak and to say "Lorand," on whom wilt thou play thy sportive tricks? Poor old doggy, maybe thou wilt not be living when I return? Forsooth old Susie herself will say to me, "I shall never see you again Master Desi." And till now I always thought I was angry with Susie; but now I remark that it will be hard to leave her.
And my dear mother, the invalid, and grandmother, already so grey-haired!
Thus the bitter strains swept onward along the strings of my soul, from lifeless objects to living, from favorite animals to human acquaintances, and then to those with whom we were bound soul to soul, finally dragging one with them to the presence of the dead and buried. I was sorely troubled by the thought that we were not allowed to enter, even for one moment, that solitary house, round the door of which the ivy was entwining anew. We might have whispered "G.o.d be with thee! I have come to see thee!" I must leave the place without being able to say to him a single word of love. And perhaps he would know without words.
Perhaps the only joy of that poor soul, who could not lie in a consecrated chamber, who could not find the way to heaven because he had not waited till the guardian angel came for him, was when he saw that his sons love him still.
"Lorand, I cannot sleep, because I have not been able to take my leave of that house beside the stream."
My brother sighed and turned in his bed.
My whole life long I have been a sound sleeper (what child is not?) but never did it seem such a burden to rise as on the morning of our departure. Two days later a strange child would be sleeping in that bed.
Once more we met together at breakfast, which we had to eat by candle-light as the day had not yet dawned.
Dear mother often rose from her seat to kiss and embrace Lorand, overwhelmed him with caresses, and made him promise to write much; if anything happened to him, he must write and tell it at once, and must always consider that bad news would afflict two hearts at home. She only spoke to me to bid me drink my coffee warm, as the morning air would be chilly.
Grandmother, too, concerned herself entirely with Lorand: they enquired whether he had all he required for the journey, whether he had taken his certificates with him--and a thousand other matters. I was rather surprised than jealous at all this, for as a rule the youngest son gets all the petting.