Frederik van Eeden
The Quest
As Johannes came nearer, he heard him murmur, "Wistik! Wistik!"
Beside the man, on a long, black bench, lay something white and downy. What it was Johannes could not clearly see.
"Good morning, doctor!" said Pluizer. But still the doctor did not look up.
Then Johannes was terrified, for the white object at which he was looking so intently, began all at once to struggle convulsively. What he had seen was the downy, white breast of a little rabbit. Its head, with the twitching nostrils, was held backward by pinching clamps of iron, and the four little feet were tightly bound along its body. The hopeless effort to free himself was soon over, and the little creature lay still again; the only sign of life being the rapid movement of the blood-stained throat.
Johannes looked at the round, gentle eyes – so wide open with helpless anguish, and it seemed to him that he recognized them. Was not this the soft little body against which he had rested that first, blissful, elf-land night? Old remembrances came thronging over him. He flew to the little creature.
"Wait, wait! Poor Bunnie, I will help you!" And he hurried to untie the cords which were cutting into the tender little feet.
But his hands were seized in a tight grip, and a shrill laugh rang in his ears.
"What does this mean, Johannes? Are you still so childish? What must the doctor think of you?"
"What does the boy want? Why is he here?" asked the doctor, amazed.
"He wants to be a man, and so I brought him to you; but he is still rather young and childish. This is not the way to find what you are seeking, Johannes!"
"No, this is not the way," said the doctor.
"Doctor, let that rabbit loose!"
But Pluizer clutched both his hands, and squeezed them painfully.
"What was our agreement, Jackanapes?" he hissed in his ear. "We were to seek, were we not? We are not in the dunes here, with Windekind, and with stupid animals. We should be men – men, do you understand? If you wish to remain a child – if you are not strong enough to help me – I will send you out of the way. Then you may seek – all by yourself!"
Johannes believed him and said no more. He determined to be strong. So he shut his eyes, that he might not see the rabbit.
"Good boy!" said the doctor. "You appear somewhat tender-hearted for making a beginning. It truly is rather a sad sight the first time. I never behold it willingly myself, and avoid it as much as possible. Yet it is indispensable; and you must understand that we are men, and not animals – that the welfare of mankind and of science is of more importance than the life of a few rabbits."
"Hear!" said Pluizer. "Science and mankind."
"The man of science," continued the doctor, "stands higher than all other men, and so he should overcome the little tendernesses which the normal man feels, for that great interest – Science. Would you like to be such a man? Was that your vocation, my boy?"
Johannes hesitated. He did not exactly know what a vocation was – no more than did the May-bug.
Said he, "I want to find the book that Wistik spoke of."
The doctor looked surprised and asked, "Wistik?"
Pluizer said quickly, "Indeed he wants to be such a man, Doctor! I know he does. He seeks the highest wisdom. He wishes to grasp the very essence of things."
Johannes nodded a "Yes!" So far as he understood, that was his aim.
"You must be strong, then, Johannes – not weak and softhearted. Then I will help you. But remember; all or nothing."
And with trembling fingers Johannes helped to retie the loosened cords around the little feet of the rabbit.
XI
"Now, we shall see," said Pluizer, "if I cannot show you just as fine sights as Windekind can."
And when they had bidden the doctor good-by – promising to return soon, he guided Johannes into every nook and corner of the great town. He showed him how the great monster lived, breathed, and fed itself; how it consumed, and again renewed itself.
But he was partial to the slums and alleys, where the people were packed together – where everything was gloomy and grimy, and the air black and close.
He took him into one of the large buildings from which Johannes had seen the smoke ascending that first day.
A deafening roar pervaded the place – everywhere a rattling, clanking, pounding, and resounding. Great wheels revolved, and long belts whizzed in rapid undulations. The walls and floors were black, the windows broken or covered with dust. The mighty chimneys rose high above the blackened building, belching great columns of curling smoke. In that turmoil of wheels and machinery Johannes saw numbers of pale-faced men with blackened hands and clothing, silently and ceaselessly working.
"Who are they?" asked Johannes.
"Wheels – more wheels," laughed Pluizer, "or human beings – as you choose. What they are doing there they do, day in – day out. And one can be human in that way, also – after a fashion."
They went on into dirty, narrow streets, where the little strip of blue sky looked only a finger's width; and even then was clouded by the clothes hung out to dry. It swarmed with people there. They jostled one another, shouted, laughed, and sometimes sang. In the houses the rooms were so small, so dark and damp, that Johannes hardly dared to breathe. He saw ragged children creeping over the bare floors; and young girls, with disheveled hair, humming melodies to thin, pale nurslings. He heard quarreling and scolding, and all the faces around him were tired, dull, or indifferent.
Johannes' heart was wrung with pain. It was not akin to his earlier grief – he was ashamed of that.
"Pluizer," he asked, "have these people always lived here – so dreary and so wretched? While I…" He dared not go on.
"Certainly; and that is fortunate. Indeed, their life is not so very dreary and wretched. They are inured to this, and know nothing better. They are dull, careless cattle. Do you see those two women there – sitting in front of their door? They look as contentedly over the foul street as you used to look upon your dunes. There is no need for you to cry over these people. You might as well cry about the moles that never see the daylight."
Johannes did not know what to reply, nor did he know why he felt so sad.
In the midst of the clamorous pushing and rushing he still saw the pale, hollow-eyed man, striding with noiseless steps.
"He is a good man after all. Do you not think so?" said Pluizer, "to take the people away from this? But even here they are afraid of him."
When night fell, and hundreds of lamps flickered in the wind – casting long, wavering lights over the black water, they passed through the silent streets. The tall old houses looked tired – as if leaning against one another in sleep. Most of them had closed their eyes; but here and there a window still sent out a faint, yellow glimmer.
Pluizer told Johannes long stories about those who dwelt behind them – of the pains that were there endured, and of the struggles that took place there between misery and love of life. He did not spare him, but selected the gloomiest, the lowest, and most trying; and grinned with enjoyment when Johannes grew pale and silent at his shocking tales.
"Pluizer," asked Johannes, suddenly, "do you know anything about the Great Light?"
He thought that that question might save him from the darkness which was pressing closer and heavier upon him.
"Chatter! Windekind's chatter!" said Pluizer. "Phantoms – illusions! There are only people – and myself. Do you fancy that any kind of god could take pleasure in anything on this earth – such a medley as there is here to be ruled over? Moreover, such a Great Light would not leave so many here – in the darkness."
"But those stars! Those stars!" cried Johannes; as if expecting that visible splendor to protest for him against this statement.
"The stars! Do you know, little fellow, what you are chattering about? Those lights up there are not like the lanterns you see about you here. They are all worlds – every one of them much larger than this world with its thousands of cities – and in the midst of them we swing like a speck of dust. There is no above nor below. There are worlds on all sides of us – nothing but worlds, and there is no end to them."
"No, no!" cried Johannes in terror, "do not say so! I see little lights on a great, dark plain above me."
"Yes, you can see nothing but little lights. If you gazed up all your life, you would see nothing else than little lights upon a dark plain above you. But you can, you must know that the universe – in the midst of which this little clod with its pitiful swarm of dotards is as nothing – shall vanish into nothingness. So speak no more of 'the stars' as if they were but a few dozens. It is foolishness."
Johannes was silenced.
"Come on," said Pluizer. "Now we will go to see something cheerful."
At intervals they were greeted by strains of music in lovely, lingering waves of sound. On a dark canal stood a large house, out of whose many tall windows the light was streaming brightly. A long line of carriages stood in front of it. The stamping of the horses rang with a hollow sound in the stillness of the night, and they were throwing "yeses" with their heads. The light sparkled on the silver trappings of the harness, and on the varnish of the vehicles.
Indoors, it was dazzlingly bright. Johannes stood gazing, half-blinded, in the glare of hundreds of varicolored lights, of mirrors and flowers.
Graceful figures glided past the windows, bowing to one another, laughing, and gesturing. Far back in the room moved richly dressed people, with lingering step or with rapid, swaying turns. A confused sound of laughter and of cheerful voices, sliding steps and rustling garments reached the street, borne upon the waves of that soft, entrancing music which Johannes had already heard from afar. In the street, close by the windows, stood a few dark figures, whose faces only – strange and dissimilar – were lighted by the splendor at which they were gazing so intently.
"That is fine! That is splendid!" cried Johannes. He greatly enjoyed the sight of the color and light and the many flowers. "What is going on there? May we go in?"
"Really, do you think this beautiful, too? Or perhaps you would prefer a rabbit-hole! Just look at the people – laughing, bowing, and glittering! See how dignified and spruce the men are, and how gay and smart the ladies. And how devoted they are to the dancing, as though it were the most important matter in the world."
Johannes thought again of the ball in the rabbit-hole, and he saw a great deal that reminded him of it. But here everything was grander and more brilliant. The young ladies in their rich array seemed to him, when they lifted their long white arms, and turned their heads half aside in dancing, as beautiful as the elves. The servants moved around majestically, offering delicious drinks – with respectful bows.
"How splendid! How splendid!" cried Johannes.
"Very pretty, is it not?" said Pluizer. "But you must look a little farther than just to the end of your nose. You see nothing now, do you, but lovely, laughing faces? Well, almost all those smiles are false and affected. Those kindly old ladies at the side there sit like anglers around a pond; their young girls are the bait, the gentlemen are the fishes. However well they like to chat together, they enviously begrudge one another every catch. If one of those young ladies is pleased, it is because she is dressed more beautifully, or attracts more attention than the others. And the pleasure of the men chiefly consists in those bare arms and necks. Behind all those laughing eyes and friendly lips lurks something quite different. Even those apparently obsequious servants are far from being respectful. If it suddenly became clear what each one really thought, the party would soon break up."
And as Pluizer pointed it out to him, Johannes plainly saw the affectation in faces and gestures; and the vanity, envy, and weariness which peeped from behind the smiling masks, or suddenly appeared as soon as they were laid aside.
"Well," said Pluizer, "they must do as they think best. Such people must amuse themselves, and this is the only way they know."
Johannes felt that some one was standing behind him, and he looked round. It was the well-known, tall figure. The pale face was whimsically lighted by the glare, so that the eyes formed large, dark depressions. He murmured softly to himself, and pointed with a finger into the lighted palace.
"Look!" said Pluizer. "He is making another selection."
Johannes looked where the finger pointed. He saw the old lady, even as she was speaking, shut her eyes and put her hand to her head, and the beautiful young girl stay her slow step, and stare before her with a slight shiver.
"When?" asked Pluizer of Death.
"That is my affair," said the latter.
"I should like to show Johannes this same company still another time," said Pluizer, with a wink and a grin. "May I?"
"To-night?" asked Death.
"Why not?" said Pluizer. "In that place is neither hour nor time. What now is has always been, and what is to be, already is."
"I cannot go with you," said Death. "I have too much to do; but speak the name that we both know, and you can find the way without me."
They went on – some distance – through the lonely streets, where the gas-lights flickered in the night wind, and the dark, cold water rippled along the sides of the canal. The soft music grew fainter and fainter, and then died away in the great calm that rested upon the city.
Suddenly there rang out from on high, with full metallic reverberation, a loud and festive melody.
It dropped straight down from the tall tower upon the sleeping town – into the sad, overshadowed spirit of Little Johannes. Surprised, he looked up. The melody of the clock continued, in calm clear tones which jubilantly rose, and sharply broke the deathly stillness. Those blithe notes – that festal song – seemed strange to him in the midst of still sleep and dark sorrow.
"That is the clock," said Pluizer. "It is always just as jolly – year in, year out. Every hour, it sings the selfsame song, with the same vim and gusto. In the night time, it sounds jollier than it does in the daytime; as if the clock were glad it has no need of sleep – that it can always sing just as happily when thousands are weeping and suffering. But it sings most merrily whenever any one is dead."
Still again the joyful sound rang out.
"One day, Johannes," continued Pluizer, "in a quiet room behind such a window as that, a feeble light will be burning – a dim and flickering light – making the shadows waver on the wall. There will be no sound in the room save now and then a soft, suppressed sob. A bed will be standing there, with white curtains, and long shadows in the folds. In that bed something will be lying – white and still. That will have been Little Johannes. Then joyously will that selfsame song break out and loudly and lustily enter the room to celebrate the hour of his decease."
Separated by long intervals, twelve heavy strokes resounded through the air. Johannes felt at once as if he were in a dream; he no longer walked, but floated a little way above the street, his hand in Pluizer's. The houses and lamp-posts sped by in rapid flight. The houses stood less close together now. They formed broken rows, with dark mysterious gaps between, where the gas-lamps lighted pits and pools, rubbish and rafters, in a capricious way. At last came a large gateway with heavy columns and a high railing. As quick as a wink they were over it, and down upon some damp grass, near a big heap of sand. Johannes fancied he was in a garden, for he heard around them the rustling of trees.
"Now pay attention, Johannes, and then insist, if you can, that I am not able to do more than Windekind."
Then Pluizer called aloud a short and doleful name which made Johannes shudder. From all sides, the sound re-echoed in the darkness, and the wind bore it up whistling and whirling until it died away in the upper air.
Then Johannes noticed that the grass-blades reached above his head, and that the small pebble which until now lay at his feet was in front of his face.
Near him, Pluizer – just as small as himself – grasped the stone with both hands, and, exerting all his strength, turned it over. Confused cries of shrill, high-pitched little voices rose up from the cleared ground.
"Hey! Who is doing that? What does that mean? Blockhead!" shouted the voices.
Johannes saw black objects running hurriedly past one another. He recognized the brisk black tumble-bug, the shining brown earwig with his fine pinchers, big humpbacked ants, and snake-like millipedes.
In the middle of them a long earth-worm pulled himself, quick as lightning, back into his hole.
Pluizer tore impatiently through the raving, scolding crowd up to the worm-hole.
"Hey, there! you long, naked lout! Come to daylight with your pointed red nose," he cried.
"What do you want?" asked the worm, out of the depths.
"You must come out because I want to go in. Do you hear? You bald dirt-eater!"
The worm stretched his pointed head cautiously out of the opening, felt all around with it a number of times, and then slowly dragged his bare, ringed body farther toward the surface.
Pluizer looked round at the other creatures that were crowding about him in their curiosity.
"One of you go before us to light the way. No, Black-beetle, you are too big; and you, with the thousand feet – you would make me dizzy. Hey, there, Earwig, I fancy your looks! Come along, and carry the light in your pincers. Bundle away, Black-beetle, and look around for a will-o'-the-wisp, or bring a torch of rottenwood."
The creatures, awed by his commanding voice, obeyed him.
Then they went down into the worm-hole – the earwig in front with the shining wood, then Pluizer, then Johannes. It was a very dark and narrow passage. Johannes saw the grains of sand dimly lighted by the faint bluish flicker of the torch. They looked as large as stones – half polished, and rubbed to a smooth, firm wall by the body of the worm, who now followed, full of curiosity. Johannes saw behind him its pointed head – now thrust quickly out in front, and then waiting for the long part behind to pull up to it.
They went in silence a long way down. When the path became too steep for Johannes, Pluizer helped him. It seemed as if there never would be an end; ever new sand-grains, and still the earwig crept on, turning and bending with the winding of the passage. At last the way widened and the walls fell apart. The sand-grains were black and wet, forming a vault above, where the water trickled in glistening streaks, and through which the roots of trees were stretched like stiffened serpents.
Suddenly, a perpendicular wall – high and black – rose up before Johannes' sight, cutting off everything in front of him. The earwig turned round.
"Hey, ho! Now it is a question of getting behind that. The worm knows all about it; he is at home here."
"Come, show us the way!" said Pluizer.
The worm slowly pulled its articulate body up to the black wall, and touched and tested it. Johannes saw that it was of wood. Here and there it was decayed into brownish powder. In one of these places the worm bored through, and with three push-and-pulls the long, supple body slipped within.
"Now you!" said Pluizer, and he shoved Johannes into the little round opening. For an instant, the latter thought he should be stifled in the soft, moist mold; then he felt his head free, and with some trouble he worked his way completely through. A large space appeared to lie beyond. The floor was hard and damp – the air thick, and intolerably close. Johannes dared scarcely to breathe, and waited in mute terror.
He heard Pluizer's voice. It had a hollow ring, as if in a great cellar.
"Here, Johannes, follow me."
He felt the ground rise up before him to a mountain. With the aid of Pluizer's hand he climbed this, in deepest darkness. He seemed to be walking over a garment that gave way under his tread. He stumbled over hollows and hillocks, following Pluizer, who led him to a level spot where he clung in place by some long stems that bent in his hands like reeds.
"Here is a good place to stop. A light!" cried Pluizer.
The dim light showed in the distance, rising and falling with its bearer. The nearer it came and the more its faint glow filled the space, the more terrible was Johannes' distress.
The mountain he had traveled over was long and white. The reeds to which he was clinging were brown, and fell below in lustrous rings and waves.
He recognized the straight form of a human being; and the cold level on which he stood was the forehead.
Before him, like two deep dark caverns, lay the insunken eyes, and the blue light shone over the thin nose, and the ashen lips opened in a rigid, dismal death-grin.
Pluizer gave a shrill laugh, that was immediately stifled by the damp, wooden walls.
"Is not this a surprise, Johannes?"
The long worm came creeping on between the folds of the shroud; it pushed itself cautiously up over the chin, and slipped through the rigid lips into the black mouth-hole.
"This was the beauty of the ball – the one you thought more lovely than an elf. Then, sweet perfume streamed from her clothes and hair; then her eyes sparkled, and her lips laughed. Look now at her!"
With all his terror, there was doubt in Johannes' eyes. So soon? Just now so glorious – and already…?
"Do you not believe me?" sneered Pluizer. "A half-century lies between then and now. There is neither hour nor time. What once was shall always be, and what is to be has already been. You cannot conceive of it, but you must believe it. Here all is truth – all that I show you is true – true! Windekind could not say that."
And with a grin Pluizer skipped around on the dead face, performing the most odious antics. He sat on an eyebrow, and lifted up an eyelid by the long lashes. The eye which Johannes had seen sparkle with joy was staring in the dim light – a dull and wrinkled white.
"Now – forward!" cried Pluizer. "There happens to be more to see."
The worm appeared, slowly crawling out of the right corner of the mouth; and the frightful journey was resumed. Not back again, but over new ways equally long and dreary.
"Now we come to an old one," said the earth-worm, as a black wall again shut off the way. "This has been here a long time."
It was less horrible than the former one. Johannes only saw a confused heap, with discolored bones protruding. Hundreds of worms and insects were silently busy with it. The light alarmed them.
"Where do you come from? Who brings a light here? We have no use for it!"
And they sped away into the folds and hollows. Yet they recognized a fellow-being.
"Have you been next door?" the worms inquired. "The wood is hard yet."
The first worm answered, "No!"
"He wants to keep that morsel for himself," said Pluizer softly to Johannes.
They went farther. Pluizer explained things and pointed out to Johannes those whom he had known. They came to a misformed face, with staring, protruding eyes, and thick black lips and cheeks.
"This was a stately gentleman," said he gaily. "You ought to have seen him – so rich, so purse-proud and conceited. He retains his puffed-up appearance."
And so it went on. Besides these there were meagre, emaciated forms with white hair that reflected blue in the feeble light; and little children with large heads and aged, wizened faces.
"Look! These have grown old since they died," said Pluizer.
They came to a man with a full beard, whose white teeth gleamed between the drawn lips. In the middle of his forehead was a little round black hole.
"This one lent Hein a helping hand. Why not a bit more patient? He would have come here just the same."
And there were still more passages – recent ones – and other straight forms with rigid, grinning faces, and motionless, folded hands.
"I am going no farther now," said the earwig. "I do not know the way beyond this."
"Let us turn back," said the worm.
"One more, one more!" cried Pluizer.
So on they marched.
"Everything you see exists," said Pluizer as they proceeded. "It is all real. One thing only is not real. That is yourself, Johannes. You are not here, and you cannot be here."
And he burst out laughing as he saw the frightened and vacant look on Johannes' face at this sally.
"This is the last – actually the last."
"The way stops short here. I will go no farther," said the earwig, peevishly.
"Well, I mean to go farther," said Pluizer; and where the way ended he began digging with both hands.
"Help me, Johannes!" Without resistance Johannes sadly obeyed, and began scooping up the moist, loose earth.
They drudged on in silence until they came to the black wood.
The worm had drawn in its ringed head, and backed out of sight. The earwig dropped the light and turned away.
"They cannot get in – the wood is too new," said he, retreating.
"I shall!" said Pluizer, and with his crooked fingers he tore long white cracking splinters out of the wood.
A fearful pressure lay on poor Johannes. Yet he had to do it – he could not resist.
At last, the dark space was open. Pluizer snatched the light and scrambled inside.
"Here, here!" he called, and ran toward the other end.
But when Johannes had come as far as the hands, that lay folded upon the breast, he was forced to stop. He stared at the thin, white fingers, dimly lighted on the upper side. He recognized them at once. He knew the form of the fingers and the creases in them, as well as the shape of the long nails now dark and discolored. He recognized a brown spot on the forefinger.
They were his own hands.
"Here, here!" called Pluizer from the head. "Look! do you know him?"
Poor Johannes tried to stand up, and go to the light that beckoned him, but his strength gave way. The little light died into utter darkness, and he fell senseless.
