Little Johannes

'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.'