Little Johannes

'You see, in this position the clouds seem to be the ground and the earth the top of the world. It is just as easy to maintain that as the converse. There is really no above or below. A very pretty place to walk on those clouds must be!'

Johannes looked up at the long stretches of cloud. They looked to him like a ploughed land, with red furrows, as though blood welled up from it. Just over the pool yawned the gate of the cloud-grotto.

'Can any one go there and enter in?' he asked.

'What nonsense!' said Pluizer, suddenly standing on his feet again, to Johannes's great relief, 'Nonsense! If you were there you would find it just the same as here, and it would look as beautiful as that further on again. But in those lovely clouds it is all foggy and grey and cold.'

'I do not believe you,' cried Johannes. 'Now I see you really are a man.'

'Come, come! You do not believe me, my little friend, because I am a man? And what sort of creature are you then, I should like to know?'

'O Pluizer! Am I, too, really a man?'

'What do you suppose? An elf? Elves are never in love.' And Pluizer unexpectedly sat down on the ground at Johannes's feet with his leg crossed under him, staring at him with a villainous grin. Johannes was unutterably embarrassed and uncomfortable under his gaze, and wished he could escape or become invisible. But he could not even take his eyes off him. 'Only men fall in love, Johannes, d'ye hear! And so much the better, or there would be none left by this time. And you are in love like the best of them, although you are but a little fellow. Of whom are you thinking at this moment?'

'Of Robinetta,' whispered Johannes, hardly above his breath.

'Whom do you most long for?'

'Robinetta.'

'Without whom do you think you could not live?' Johannes's lips moved silently: 'Robinetta.'

'Well then, youngster,' grinned Pluizer, 'what made you fancy that you could be an elf? Elves do not love the daughters of men.'

'But it was Windekind,' Johannes stammered out in his bewilderment. But Pluizer flew into a terrible rage and his bony fingers gripped Johannes by the ears.

'What folly is this? Would you try to frighten me with that whippersnapper thing? He is a greater simpleton than Wistik – much greater. He knows nothing at all. And what is worse, he does not exist in any sense, and never has existed. I only exist, do you understand? And if you do not believe me, I will let you feel what I am.' And he shook the hapless Johannes by the ears.

Johannes cried out —

'But I have known him such a long time, and have travelled such a long way with him!'

'You dreamed it, I tell you. Where are the rose bush and the little key, hey? But you are not dreaming now. Do you feel that?'

'Oh!' cried Johannes, for Pluizer nipped him.

It was by this time dark, and the bats flew close over their heads and piped shrilly. The air was black and heavy, not a leaf was stirring in the wood.

'May I go home?' asked Johannes, – 'home to my father?'

'To your father! What to do there?' said Pluizer. 'A warm reception you will get from him after staying away so long.'

'I want to get home,' said Johannes, and he thought of the snug room with the bright lamp light where he would sit so often by his father's side, listening to the scratching of his pen. It was quiet there, and not lonely.

'Well then, you would have done better not to come away, and stayed so long for the sake of that senseless jackanapes who has not even any existence. Now it is too late, but it does not matter in the least; I will take care of you. And whether I do it or your father, comes to precisely the same in the end. Such a father – it is a mere matter of education. Did you choose your own father? Do you suppose that there is no one so good or so clever as he? I am just as good, and cleverer – much cleverer.'

Johannes had no heart to answer; he shut his eyes and nodded feebly.

'And it would be of no use to look for anything from Robinetta,' the little man went on. He laid his hands on Johannes's shoulders and spoke close into his ear. That child thought you just as much a fool as the others did. Did you not observe that she sat in the corner and never spoke a word when they all laughed at you? She is no better than the rest. She thought you a nice little boy, and was ready to play with you – as she would have played with a cockchafer. She will not care that you are gone away. And she knows nothing of that Book. But I do; I know where it is, and I will help you to find it. I know almost everything.'

And Johannes was beginning to believe him.

'Now will you come with me? Will you seek it with me?'

'I am so tired,' said Johannes, 'let me sleep first.'

'I have no opinion of sleep,' replied Pluizer, 'I am too active for that. A man must always be wide awake and thinking. But I will grant you a little time for rest. Till to-morrow morning!' And he put on the friendliest expression of which he was capable.

Johannes looked hard into his little twinkling eyes till he could see nothing else. His head was heavy and he lay down on the mossy knoll. The little eyes seemed to go further and further from him till they were starry specks in the dark sky; he fancied he heard the sound of distant voices, as though the earth beneath him were going away and away – and then he ceased to think at all.

X

Even before he was fairly awake, he was vaguely conscious that something strange had happened to him while he slept. Still he was not anxious to know what, or to look about him. He would rather return to the dream which was slowly fading like a rising mist – Robinetta had come to be with him again, and had stroked his hair as she used to do – and he had seen his father once more, and Presto, in the garden with the pool.

'Oh! That hurt! Who did that?' Johannes opened his eyes, and in the grey morning light, he saw a little man standing at his side who had pulled his hair. He himself was in bed, and the light was dim and subdued, as in a room.

But the face which bent over him at once carried him back to all the misery and distress of the past evening. It was Pluizer's face, less boguey-like and more human, but as ugly and terrifying as ever.

'Oh, no! Let me dream!' cried Johannes.

But Pluizer shook him. 'Are you crazy, sluggard? Dreaming is folly; you will never get any further by that. A man must work and think and search; that is what you are a man for.'

'I do not want to be a man. I want to dream.'

'I cannot help that; you must. You are now in my charge, and you must work and seek with me. With me alone can you ever find the thing you want. And I will not give in till we have found it.'

Johannes felt a vague dismay; still, a stronger will coerced and drove him. He involuntarily submitted.

The sand-hills, trees, and flowers had vanished. He was in a small dimly-lighted room; outside, as far as he could see, there were houses, and more houses, dingy and grey, in long dull rows. Smoke rose from every one of them in thick wreaths, and made a sort of brown fog in the streets. And along those streets men were hurrying, like great black ants. A mingled, dull clamour came up from the throng without ceasing.

'Look, Johannes,' said Pluizer. 'Now is not that a fine sight? Those are men, and all the houses, whichever way you look, and as far as you can see – even beyond the blue towers there – are full of men – quite full from top to bottom. Is not that wonderful? That is rather different from a sand-hill!'

Johannes listened with alarmed curiosity, as though some huge and hideous monster had risen up before him. He felt as if he stood on the creature's back, and could see the black blood flowing through its great arteries, and the murky breath streaming from its hundred nostrils. And the portentous hum of that terrible voice filled him with fears.

'Look how fast the men walk,' Pluizer went on. 'You can see that they are in a hurry and are seeking something, cannot you? But the amusing thing is, that not one of them knows exactly what he is seeking. When they have been seeking for some little time, some one comes to meet them – his name is Hein.'

'Who is he?' asked Johannes.

'Oh, a very good friend of mine. I will introduce you to him some day. Then Hein says to them, "Are you looking for me?" To which most of them reply, "Oh no. I do not want you!" But then Hein says again, "But there is nothing to be found but me." So they have to be satisfied with Hein.'

Johannes understood that he meant death.

'And is it always, always so?'

'To be sure, always. And yet, day after day, a new crowd come on, who begin forthwith to seek they know not what, and they seek and seek till at last they find Hein. This has been going on for a good while already, and so it will continue for some time yet.'

'And shall I never find anything, Pluizer – nothing but – ?'

'Ay, you will find Hein some day, sure enough! but that does not matter; seek all the same – for ever be seeking.'

'But the Book, Pluizer, you were to make me find the Book.'

'Well who knows? I have not taken back my word. We must seek it diligently. At any rate we know where to look for it; Wistik taught us that. And there are folks who spend all their lives in the search without even knowing so much as that. Those are the men of science, Johannes. But then Hein comes and it is all over with their search.'

'That is horrible, Pluizer!'

'Oh no, not at all! Hein is a very kind creature; but he is misunderstood.'

Some one was heard on the staircase outside the bedroom door. Tramp, tramp, up the wooden steps – tramp, tramp, – nearer and nearer. Then some one tapped at the door, and it was as though iron rapped against the panel.

A tall man came in. He had deep-set eyes and long lean hands. A cold draught blew into the room.

'Good-day,' said Pluizer, 'so it is you! Sit down. We were just speaking of you. How are you getting on?'

'Busy, busy!' said the tall man, and he wiped the cold dews from his bald, bony forehead.

Without moving Johannes looked timidly into the deep-set eyes which were fixed on his. They were grave and gloomy, but not cruel, not angry. After a few minutes he breathed more freely and his heart beat less wildly.

'This is Johannes,' said Pluizer. 'He has heard of a certain book in which it is written why everything is as it is, and we are now going to seek it together, are we not?' And Pluizer laughed significantly.

'Ay, indeed? That is well!' said Death kindly, and he nodded to Johannes.

'He is afraid he will not find it, but I tell him first to seek it diligently.'

'To be sure,' said Death. 'Seek diligently, that is the best way.'

'He thought, too, that you were very dreadful. But you see, Johannes, that you were mistaken.'

'Oh yes,' said Death good-humouredly, 'men speak much evil of me. I am not attractive to look upon, but I mean well, nevertheless.'

He smiled faintly, as one who is occupied with more serious matters than those he is speaking of. Then he took his dark gaze from Johannes's face, and looked out thoughtfully over the great city.

For a long time Johannes dared not speak; but at last he said in a low voice —

'Are you going to take me with you?'

'What do you mean, my child?' said Death, roused from his meditations. 'No, not now. You must grow up and become a good man.'

'I will not grow to be a man like all the rest.'

'Come, come,' said Death, 'there is no help for it.'

And it was easy to hear that this was a frequent phrase with him. He went on —

'My friend Pluizer can teach you how to become a good man. There are various ways of being good, but Pluizer can teach you admirably. It is a very fine and noble thing to be a good man. You must never look down on a good man, my little fellow.'

'Seek, think, look about you,' said Pluizer.

'To be sure, to be sure,' said Death. And then he inquired of Pluizer: 'To whom will you take him?'

'To Doctor Cypher, my old pupil.'

'Ah yes, – a very good pupil. A very capital example of a man! Almost perfect in his own way.'

'Shall I see Robinetta again?' asked Johannes, trembling.

'What does the boy mean?' asked Death.

'Oh, he was in love, and fancied that he was an elf. Ha, ha, ha!' laughed Pluizer spitefully.

'No, no, my little man, that will never do,' said Death. 'You will soon forget all that when you are with Doctor Cypher. Those who seek what you seek must give up everything else. All or nothing.'

'I shall make a real man of him. I will let him see some day what being in love really means, and then he will cast it from him altogether.'

And Pluizer laughed heartily. Death again fixed his black eyes on poor Johannes, who had some difficulty in refraining from sobbing. But he was ashamed to cry in the presence of Death.

Death suddenly rose. 'I must be going,' said he. 'I am wasting my time in talk, and there is much to be done. Good-bye, Johannes! – We shall meet again. But you must not be afraid of me.'

'I am not afraid of you; I wish you would take me with you.'

But Death gently pushed him away; he was used to such entreaties.

'No, Johannes. – Go now to your work in life; seek and see! Ask me no more. I will ask you some day, and that will be quite soon enough.'

When he had disappeared Pluizer again began to behave in the wildest fashion. He leaped over the seats, turned somersaults, climbed up the cupboard and chimney-shelf, and played break-neck tricks at the open window.

'Well, that was Hein, my good friend Hein!' said he. 'Did you not like him greatly? A little unattractive and bony-looking, perhaps. But he can be very jolly too, when he takes pleasure in his work. Sometimes it bores him; it is rather monotonous.'

'Pluizer, who tells him where he is to go next?'

Pluizer stared at Johannes with a look of cunning inquiry.

'What makes you ask? – He goes where he pleases – He takes those he can catch.'

Later, Johannes came to see that it was not so. But as yet he knew no better, and thought that Pluizer was always right.

They went out and up the street, moving among the swarming throng. The men in their black clothes bustled about, laughing and talking so gaily that Johannes could not help wondering. He saw how Pluizer nodded to several, but no one returned the greeting; they all looked in front of them as if they did not even see him.

'They go by and laugh now,' said Pluizer, 'as if they none of them knew me. But that is only make-believe. When I am alone with one of them they cannot pretend not to know me, and then they are not so light-hearted.'

And as they went on Johannes was presently aware of some one following them. When he looked round he saw that the tall pale figure was striding on among the people, with long noiseless steps. He nodded to Johannes.

'Do the people see him too?' asked Johannes of Pluizer.

'Certainly, but they do not choose to know him. Well, I pardon them for their arrogance!'

The crowd and the turmoil produced a sort of bewilderment which made Johannes forget his woes. The narrow streets and the high houses, which cut the blue heavens above into straight strips, the people going up and down them, the shuffling of feet and the clatter of vehicles, ousted the visions and dreams of the night, as a storm dissipates the images in a pool of water. It seemed to him that there was nothing in the world but walls, and windows, and men. He felt as if he too must do the same, and rush and push in the seething, breathless whirl.

Presently they came to a quieter neighbourhood, where a large house stood, with plain grey windows. It looked stern and unkindly. Everything was silent within, and Johannes smelt a mixture of sour, unfamiliar odours, with a damp, cellar-like atmosphere for their background. In a room filled with strange-looking instruments sat a lonely man. He was surrounded by books, and glass and copper objects, all unknown to Johannes. A single ray of sunshine fell into the room above his head, and sparkled on flasks full of bright-coloured liquids. The man was gazing fixedly through a copper tube and did not look up.

As Johannes approached he could hear him murmuring, 'Wistik, Wistik!'

By the man's side, on a long black board, lay something white and furry which Johannes could not see very clearly.

'Good-morning, doctor,' said Pluizer; but the doctor did not move.

But Johannes was startled, for the white object which he was watching intently, suddenly began to move convulsively. What he had seen was the white fur of a rabbit lying on its back. The head, with the mobile nose, was fixed in an iron clamp, and its four little legs were firmly bound to its body. The hopeless effort to get free was soon over, then the little creature lay still again, and only the rapid movement of its bleeding throat showed that it was still alive. And Johannes saw its round, gentle eye staring wide in helpless terror, and he felt as if he recognised the poor little beast. Was not that the soft little body against which he had slept that first delightful night with the elves? Old memories crowded in his mind; he flew to the rabbit.

'Wait, wait! Poor rabbit! I will release you!' and he hastily tried to cut the cords which bound the tender little paws. But his hands were tightly clutched, and a sharp laugh sounded in his ear.

'What do you mean by this, Johannes? Are you still such a baby? What must the doctor think of you?'

'What does the boy want? What brings him here?' asked the doctor in surprise.

'He wants to become a man, so I have brought him to you. But he is still young and childish. That is not the way to find what you are seeking, Johannes.'

'No, that is not the way,' said the doctor. 'Doctor, set the rabbit free!'

But Pluizer held him by both hands till he hurt him.

'What did we agree on, little man?' he whispered in his ear. 'To seek diligently, was it not? We are not on the sand-hills now, with Windekind and the dumb brutes. We are to be men – men. Do you understand? If you mean to remain a child, if you are not strong enough to help me, I will send you about your business and you may seek by yourself.'

Johannes was silent, and believed him. He would be strong. He shut his eyes so that he might not see the rabbit.

'My dear boy,' said the doctor, 'you seem still too tender-hearted to begin. To be sure – the first time it is horrible to look on. I myself, for some time, was most averse to it, and avoided it as far as possible. But it is indispensable; and you must remember we are men and not brutes, and the advancement of mankind and of science is of more importance than a few rabbits.'

'Do you hear?' said Pluizer, – 'science and mankind.'

'The man of science,' the doctor went on, 'stands far above all other men. But he must make all the smaller feelings which are common to the vulgar give way to the one grand idea of science. Will you be such a man? Is that your vocation, my boy?'

Johannes hesitated; he did not know justly what a vocation might be – any more than the cockchafer.

'I want to find the book of which Wistik spoke,' said he.

The doctor looked surprised and asked, 'Wistik?'

Pluizer hastened to reply. 'He will, doctor; I know he really will. He desires to seek the highest wisdom and to understand the true nature of tilings.'

Johannes nodded, 'Yes!' So far as he understood the matter, that was what he meant.

'Very well; but then you must be strong, Johannes, and not timid and soft-hearted. Then I can help you. But remember: all or nothing.'

And with trembling fingers Johannes helped to tighten the relaxed cords round the rabbit's little paws.

XI

'Now we shall see,' said Pluizer, 'whether I cannot show you just as pretty things as Windekind did.'

And when they had taken leave of the doctor, promising to return soon, he led Johannes into every nook and corner of the great town; he showed him how the Monster lived, how he breathed and took in food, how he digested within and expanded without. But what he liked best were the gloomy back slums, where men sat closely packed, where everything was grey and grizzly, and the air black and heavy. He took him into one of the great buildings from which the smoke rose which Johannes had seen the first day. The place was filled with deafening noise – thumping, rattling, hammering and droning – great wheels were turning and long belts sliding endlessly onward; the walls and floors were black, the windows broken and murky. The towering chimneys rose high above the dingy structure, and poured forth thick wreaths of smoke. Amid the turmoil of wheels and axles, Johannes saw numbers of men with pale faces and blackened hands and clothes, working busily without a word.

'Who are they?' he asked.

'Wheels, wheels too,' said Pluizer with a laugh, 'or men, if you choose to call them so. And what you see them doing, they do from morning to night. Even so, they can be men – after their own fashion, of course.'

Then they passed along filthy streets, where the strip of heavenly blue seemed no more than a finger's breadth wide, and was still more shut out by clothes hung out to air. These alleys were swarming with people, who jostled each other, shouted, laughed and sometimes even sang. In the houses here, the rooms were so small, so dark and foul, that Johannes could scarcely breathe. He saw squalid children crawling about on the bare floor, and young girls with tangled hair crooning songs to pale, hungry babies. He heard quarrelling and scolding, and every face he looked upon was weary, or stupid and indifferent.

It filled Johannes with a strange sudden pang. It had nothing in common with any former pain, and he felt ashamed of it.

'Pluizer,' said he, 'have men always lived here in such grief and misery? And when I – ' he dared not finish the question.

'To be sure, and a happy thing too. They are not in such grief and misery; they are used to it and know no better. They are mere animals, ignorant and indifferent. Look at those two women sitting in front of their door; they look out on the dirty street as contentedly as you used to gaze at the sand-hills. You need not worry yourself about the lot of man. You might as well cry over the lot of the moles who never see daylight.'

And Johannes did not know what to answer, nor what, then, he ought to weep over. And ever through the noisy throng and bustle, he still saw the pale, hollow-eyed figure marching on with noiseless steps.

'A good man, don't you think?' said Pluizer. 'He takes them away from this at any rate. But even here men are afraid of him.'

When night had fallen and hundreds of lights flared in the wind, casting long, straggling reflections in the black water, they made their way down the quiet streets. The tall old houses seemed tired out, and asleep as they leaned against each other. Most of them had their eyes shut; but here and there a window still showed a pale gleam of yellow light.

Pluizer told Johannes many a long tale of those who dwelt within, of the sufferings which were endured there, and the struggle waged between misery and the love of life. He spared him nothing: he sought out the gloomiest, the lowest, the most dreadful facts, and grinned with delight as Johannes turned pale and speechless at his horrible tales.

'Pluizer,' Johannes suddenly asked, 'do you know anything about the Great Light?' He thought the question might deliver him from the darkness which grew thicker and more oppressive about him.

'All nonsense!' said Pluizer. 'Windekind's nonsense! Mere visions and dreams! Men alone exist – and I myself. Do you suppose that a God, or anything at all like one, could take pleasure in governing such a muddle as prevails on this earth? And such a Great Light would not shine here in the dark.'

'But the stars, what about the stars?' asked Johannes as if he expected that the visible Splendour would raise up the squalor before him.

'The stars! Do you know of what you are talking, boy? There are no lights up there like the lamps you see about you here below. The stars are nothing but worlds, a great deal larger than this world with its thousand cities, and we move among them like a speck of dust; and there is no "above" or "below," but worlds all round, and on every side more worlds, and no end of them anywhere.'

'No, no!' cried Johannes in horror. 'Do not say so, do not say so! I can see the lights against a great dark background overhead.'

'Very true. You cannot see anything but lights. If you stared up at the sky all your life long you would still see nothing but lights against a dark background overhead. But, you know, you must know, that there is no above nor beneath. Those are worlds, amid which this clod of earth, with its wretched, struggling mass of humanity, is as nothing – and will vanish into nothing. Do not ever speak of "the stars" in that way, as though there were but a few dozen of them. It is foolishness.'

Johannes said no more. The immensity which ought to have elevated the squalor had crushed it.

'Come along,' said Pluizer. 'Now we will go to see something amusing.'

At intervals bursts of delightful, soft music were wafted to their ears. On a dark slope in front of them stood a large building with lamps blazing in its numerous long windows. A row of carriages was in waiting outside; the pawing of the horses rang hollow through the silent night, and as they shook their heads, sparks of light shone on the silver fittings of their harness, and on the varnish of the coaches.

Inside, everything was a blaze of light. Johannes was half blinded as he gazed, by the hundreds of candles, the bright colours, the glitter of mirrors and flowers. Gay figures flitted across the windows, bowing to each other, with laughter and gestures. Beyond, at the other side of the room, richly dressed persons were moving about with slow dignity or spinning with swift, swaying motion. A confused sound of laughter and merry voices, of shuffling feet and rustling dresses came through the front door, mingling with the waves of that soft bewitching music which Johannes had already heard from afar. In the street, close to the windows, stood a few dark figures, their faces only strangely lighted up by the illumination within, at which they stared with avidity.

'That is pretty! That is splendid!' cried Johannes, delighted at the sight of so much light and colour, and so many flowers. 'What is going on in there? May we go in?'

'Indeed! So you really think that pretty? Or do you not prefer a rabbit-hole? Look at the people as they laugh, and bow, and glitter. See how stately and polite the men are; and how gay and fine the ladies! And how solemnly they dance, as if it were the most important thing on earth.'

Johannes recalled the ball in the rabbit-burrow, and he saw a great deal which reminded him of it. But here, everything was much grander and more brilliant. The young ladies in their beautiful array seemed to him as lovely as elves, as they raised their long, bare arms, and bent their heads on one side in the dance. The servants moved about incessantly, offering elegant refreshments with respectful bows.

'How splendid! How splendid!' cried Johannes.

'Very pretty, is it not?' said Pluizer. 'But now you must learn to look a little further than the end of your nose. You see nothing there but happy smiling faces? Well, the greater part of all that mirth is falsehood and affectation. The friendly old ladies in the corner sit there like anglers round a pond; the young girls are the bait, the men are the fish. And affectionately as they gossip together, they envy and grudge each other every fish that bites. If either of the young ladies feels some pleasure, it is because she has a prettier dress than the rest, or secures more partners; the pleasure of the men chiefly consists in the bare shoulders and arms of the ladies. Behind all these bright eyes and pleasant smiles there lurks something quite different. Even the thoughts of the respectful servants are very far from respectful. If suddenly every one should give utterance to his real thoughts the party would soon be at an end.'

And when Pluizer pointed it ail out to him, Johannes could plainly see the insincerity of the faces and manners of the company, and the vanity, envy, and weariness which showed through the smiling mask, or were suddenly revealed as though it had just been taken off.

'Well,' said Pluizer, 'they must do things in their own way. Human creatures must have some amusement, and they know no other way.'

Johannes was aware of some one standing just behind him. He looked round; it was the well-known tall figure. The pale face was strangely lighted up by the glare, so that the eyes showed as large dark caverns. He was muttering softly to himself and pointed with one finger into the splendid ball-room.

'Look,' said Pluizer, 'he is seeking out some one.'

Johannes looked where the finger pointed, and he saw how the old lady who was speaking closed her eyes and put her hand to her head; and how a fair young girl paused in her slow walk, and stared before her with a slight shiver.

'How soon?' Pluizer asked of Death.

'That is my affair,' was the answer.

'I should like to show Johannes this same company once more,' said Pluizer with a grin and a wink, 'can I do it?'

'This evening?' asked Death.

'Why not?' said Pluizer. 'There, time and the hour are no more. What now is has always been, and what shall be, is now already.'

'I cannot go with you,' said Death. 'I have too much to do. But speak the name we both know and you can find the way without me.'

Then they went a little way along the deserted streets where the gas was flaring in the night wind, and the dark cold water plashed against the sides of the canals. The soft music grew fainter and fainter, and at last died away in the hush which lay over the town.

Presently, from high above them, a loud and festal song rang out with a deep, echoing, metallic ring. It came down suddenly from the tall church tower on the sleeping city, and into little Johannes' sad and gloomy soul. He looked up much startled. The chime rang on with clear, steady tones, rising joyfully in the air, and boldly scaring the death-like silence. The glad strain struck him as strange – a festal song in the midst of noiseless sleep and blackest woe.