CHAPTER VIII
THE OUTLINES OF A GREAT PLAN
The next day Franka asked Dr. Fixstern what had become of the ring that her grandfather had left to Herr Helmer ... whether it had been as yet delivered. Dr. Fixstern replied that the jewel was still in his possession.
“Then please give it to me and write Mr. Helmer to come here; I should like to hand him his legacy myself.”
A few days later, Franka chanced to be alone, Frau Eleonore having gone out to make some purchases, and was again engaged in turning over the leaves of her father’s notebooks, when Chlodwig Helmer was announced.
“Miss Garlett, you sent for me?”
“Yes, Mr. Helmer. I wanted to see you.... Will you not come nearer?... I have something to put into your hands.”
She went to her writing-table where the box with the ring was lying. “You see, my grandfather intended this for you as a remembrance, and I felt it important to deliver it to you myself.”
Franka spoke with a rather unsteady voice, for she was conscious that she was not speaking the absolute truth. She did not regard the personal transfer of the ring as so important, and what had been the motive of her summoning the young man had been the wish—it was almost a longing—for his presence, as if she might find in him a refuge, a support, a defense! He who cherished ideas very similar to those that were expressed in those notebooks—he who had, so to speak, uttered his command to do the “something great” for which her inmost being yearned—he might be able to show her the way....
Helmer took the ring and put it on his finger. “This will always be a doubly cherished remembrance—I had a very high regard for Count Sielen. He was a dear man, a noble mind ... and that you, yourself, Fräulein Franka...” he hesitated.
“Come, let us sit down and talk about my grandfather. You knew him much longer than I did.”
The conversation stretched out for half an hour without Franka’s being able to muster courage to direct it to the subject which was uppermost in her mind. They talked about the late count, about the life at the Sielenburg, about what had happened since that time, but not a word was said about what both were thinking. Each was regarding and studying the other as they talked, and each might have observed that their thoughts were not on what they were saying.
Franka’s eyes rested inquisitively on Chlodwig—had he written the letters or not? His exterior appearance seemed changed; was he unprepossessing? Had she ever really thought him so? And yet certainly no one could call him handsome; his clean-shaven face was too lean, his chin too long, his lips too thin; but if he was decidedly not handsome, his features were certainly interesting. Franka also noticed something which she had not observed at Sielenburg: Chlodwig had particularly expressive hands—narrow, white, well cared for, not at all effeminately soft—on the contrary, quite powerful; and everything which their possessor said was emphasized by these hands with quick and peculiarly vivacious gestures; these were aristocratic hands, full of character.
Chlodwig also contemplated his companion. Franka seemed to him slightly altered. The somewhat childlike expression which had formerly characterized her features, and which even now came evanescently into them when she smiled, had given way to a more serious and energetic expression—she seemed to him more womanly, more mature.
After half an hour Chlodwig got up: “I fear that I have stayed too long. Accept my thanks again, Fräulein Franka, and permit me to say good-bye.”
“No, no, sit down again; I have something else that I want to talk with you about.”
Helmer obeyed. A short pause ensued.
Franka was trying to find the right words to begin with. Then with sudden resolution: “Did you write me two letters?”
Chlodwig’s cheeks grew red as fire. “Yes,” he answered.
“I knew it.”
“Forgive the form which....”
“Never mind the form; the substance is important to me. You gave me some advice—you almost laid down the law, and I should like to do what you demand of me; only you must say what ... how! I must become great, at least, attempt to do something great. What do you consider me capable of doing? What do you consider great? Instead of vague words, I desire to hear from you some definite, tangible, feasible scheme.”
Chlodwig’s eyes beamed with delight. “Really, you will....”
“Yes. An enormous property has fallen into my possession ... that pledges me ... what ought I to do, what can I do, apart from so-called charity?”
“What can you do? In order to answer that, I must know you better, Miss Franka; I must measure the flying capacity of your soul. The young girl to whom I wrote was more a vision of my fancy than of my experience. What do I know of your real nature, of your views, of your ideals, your powers?”
“I believe I have the same ideals as you have, Mr. Helmer; otherwise your letters would not have awakened an echo in my soul—and as to my views?” She took up from the table the notebooks in which she had just been reading and handed them to Helmer. “Glance over these notes ... they are extracts from the thoughts of my father and instructor, who tried to form me after his own model. You will find ideas and expressions like those in your own letters. And, look, these are my favorite books.” She directed his attention to a book-rack which hung on the wall behind her writing-table. “They came from my father’s library, and they are the fountains from which he nourished my mind. My father’s ideas and yours are in accordance—so, Chlodwig Helmer, in spirit we are brother and sister....”
At this moment Frau Eleonore entered the room without knocking. She had several packages in her hands: “Here I am, dear Franka. Forgive me if I was gone too long....”
The two others both thought simultaneously, “Not long enough!”
Franka introduced her caller. Frau Eleonore shook hands with him and then began to undo her packages. “Please look, dear Franka, and see if these are the right kind.”
Helmer in the mean time was doing as he had been bidden: he glanced through the notebooks and examined the volumes. Then he came back to Franka and said:—
“May I go now? As soon as you send me word, I will be at your service again.”
“And will you give me the answer which I desired just now? I mean that concrete plan....”
“Will you permit me, in the mean time to lay before you in writing, not the whole plan, but only the sketch of it, in broad lines?”
“As you please ... that will make the third letter in my collection. Very good, then, I will expect the broad lines. The details afterwards, by word of mouth. Auf wiedersehen, Herr Helmer!”
“Who is that young man?” asked Frau Eleonore, after the door had closed behind Chlodwig.
“A signpost at the crossing of the ways.”
“What? I did not understand you.”
“It is not necessary.”
“Not a suitor—I hope?”
“No, God forfend!”
Franka was not kept waiting long for Chlodwig’s letter. She opened it with eagerness and read:—
The third letter in the collection. So, then, it must be written in the same tone as the first and the second—from soul to soul. I will not begin with the formal “Gnädiges Fräulein” ... that expression we will leave for verbal intercourse, but with “Franka” again, and the confidential “Du.” We are brother and sister in spirit—you said so, yourself.
Now, then,—the plan in broad outline: you ought to be the proclaimer of a women’s gospel—the field-marshal of a feminine crusade of conquest. Mankind from now on is facing mighty tasks which it can accomplish only when its two halves grasp and fulfill these tasks. “All hands on deck” is the cry at sea at critical moments, and when the ship “Mankind” is staggering on mountainous billows, then all hands must be at their posts. My conviction that we are now, at this very moment, at the beginning of a fateful revolution is founded on the unheard-of marvel: a man can fly! His artificial wings have conquered the tempest! His war-cry must henceforth be “Up and away!” in all fields of activity. Active service in the heights devolves upon him, and woman is not exempted from this duty of service. The awakening call must rouse her also, and I look upon you as the one to give the alarm.
Perhaps you imagine that I am asking you to become a militant feminist, to form a new Women’s Union and join your forces with the already widespread, and to a certain extent successful, endeavors to gain for women the right to play the same part in the academic and political arena as men do. As a goal the doctor’s cap, public offices, “Votes for Women.” This movement may go its own way. I have no notion of putting any limit to it. But what I have in mind is something quite different—the new woman is not to strive for the masculine positions and functions in the State which we men have created for ourselves; not the appropriation of those masculine qualities which are required for the political game as we men play it; least of all, the attainment of the privilege of libertinism, in accordance with which we men live; but she is to help in the construction of a State, of a political machine, of a manner of life, worthy of noble women sharing in it.
To this end, in the first place, it behooves women not to stand aloof; not to remain in ignorance of the machinery of the State, of the complicated intrigues and hidden wires of politics, of the laws which rule economic and social life. Secondly, they must cultivate to their richest flowering the virtues that are regarded as specifically feminine,—kindness, purity, tenderness,—so that when they enter public life, this also may be permeated with those qualities. They will serve an ethical State—they will practice ethical politics. They will then be the most devoted colleagues to those men who even now are setting up an ethical ideal for State and politics, and who are attacking the firmly intrenched error, that State and politics stand on the other side of morals,—a fatal error—for it is responsible for the condition of ignorance, of enmity, and of barbarism from which poor humanity has up to the present been suffering. To be sure, it has already made considerable progress—though slowly—from that aboriginal barbarism; the domain of security and solidarity has gradually been enlarged. But this “gradually” can no longer satisfy us to-day, when the electric spark can be flashed from the Eiffel Tower to the Statue of Liberty. To crawl forward, to climb up—that no longer belongs to our age, now that we have learned to mount on wings. Up yonder we need no winged devils to scatter melinite on our habitations; our greatest haste is to become human:—therefore, “All hands on deck!” Therefore, whoever feels himself under a pledge to accomplish something great must trumpet forth the alarm to awaken all the powers of reason and good will that are still slumbering.
And in what way, Franka, do I feel sure you are bound to summon your sisters? By taking part in the Woman Movement? That I have already answered in the negative. By means of a book? Alas! how few read books! No, through the living word, through the magic, the magnetism, of personality, the might of individual enthusiasm. I see you standing on the platform, your “Walküren” fire under control of maidenly dignity, worshipful as a priestess, glorified like a seeress....
Let me tell you: I was still a very young boy when I received a deep and overpowering impression from such a priestly speaker, but who was not a priest,—he was a soldier,—Moritz von Egidy, a Prussian colonel of hussars. He had begun by writing a book, called “Earnest Thoughts,” and at the same time they were free thoughts. That was not regarded as compatible with discipline and he was obliged to resign from the army. His leading motive was: “Religion not as a part of our life, but our life as religion.” What he meant by religion was nothing dogmatic, only ethical. He had attained that idea by earnest thoughts, and he proposed to bring his contemporaries to a similar view by earnest willing! In almost all the German cities he gave public addresses with unexampled success. The largest halls in which he spoke were packed to suffocation and thundered with sympathetic applause.
The effect was tremendous. Soon Egidy congregations began to be formed. But all too quickly he was struck down by death. What he thought, what he preached,—never in an unctuous, clerical tone, but with the military voice of command,—I need not tell you here. I only wished to bring him up as an example—for such is the kind of work which it seems to me you ought to undertake: teacher, leader, prophetess, you must be! Unendingly rich can be the blessing flowing from your activity.
I imagine this influence as simply overpowering. You would be the first and only person who ever came forward in such a way. Never before was there a young maiden who attempted such a thing, and the magic of youth and beauty will magnify tenfold the might of personal magnetism. Your great property and your position in the world will give you the opportunity of carrying out your scheme without any material difficulty—you can engage the largest hall in every city—entrance free to every one ... off the stage you will appear the great lady that you are.
Independent, beyond criticism, famous (you would be famous in the very shortest time),—admired and honored, you would be able everywhere to gather around you the heads of society and there use your influence. You yourself would grow by your own work—the higher you try to fly, the greater will be your ability to use your wings, and the traces of your spirit will be visible in the moral progress of this generation and of those to come. I do not say this to stimulate your ambition, but to strengthen your spirit of sacrifice, for I know already that your desire is to accomplish something noble, and to do that, you must be prepared for many troubles and must renounce much. Like the Maid of Orleans, you must crush your own impulses and desires under your coat of mail. For if you should give your heart and hand to any man, it would be all up with your independence. And, moreover, even if your chosen one should admit of your independence, it would be all up with the magic influence. For at least a decade you ought to devote yourself entirely to your task.
You cannot begin immediately, not to-morrow. You must have some time for preparation, for growth, for study. A quiet novitiate before the dedication; and because your position conditions your prestige, you must first make your position solid. You must win the respect of high society; you must win general admiration and consideration. At your very first appearance on the platform, it must be known, to all the city and to the world, that the person who is going to deliver the lecture is the celebrated and beautiful young heiress of the Count Sielen’s estates, honored because of her generous expenditures and reputed to have refused many advantageous offers;—then the hall for the very first time will be taken by storm. And in order that the technical side be not neglected, you must have taken instruction in the art of elocution, in the modulating of your voice.
I have finished. I have really done more than lay down the outlines of the plan—I have also indicated some of the details.
Now you can test yourself; you can demand of your desires, of your conscience, whether a way has been indicated and whether you will follow it.