The Lost Manuscript Part 102

Much that is valuable is lost; nothing better is gained. The delicacy of feeling which formerly expressed itself beneficially in all forms of intercourse, and the discreet management of important affairs, become rare. If these advantages did not suffice to form the character, as is perhaps needed in the present, they made life pleasing and beautiful. A secure feeling of superiority, and a gracious rule over others, was general at courts and in business; of this we are deprived. Diplomacy has ceased to be distinguished. One sets bluntly to work; not only n.o.bleness of feeling, but even the pleasing show of it is wanting; an uncertain pettiness, a grumbling, irritable, reserved character has gained the upper hand at courts, and in diplomacy ill-bred frivolity, without knowledge and without manly will. Our princes rattle about like accoutred idlers; the old court discipline is lost, and one feels oneself incessantly on the defensive, and seeks for safety in senseless attacks. It is impossible not to feel that by these acts one is irretrievably going downward."

The Professor smiled at the sorrow of the old lord.

"I do not blame you," continued the High Steward, "if you do not feel the misfortune of this change as deeply as I do. It is only a pity that it should always be the highest earthly interests which are thus trifled with."

"But is this misfortune so general?" replied the Professor.

"Some splendid exceptions have not been wanting," said the High Steward; "some were granted us at a time when we played the greatest tragedy before the world, as if here and there to preserve a bright romance. They have scarcely been wanting in a country which possesses the five qualities which are necessary to form a good court: an upright sovereign, an amiable princess, a high-minded statesman, some intellectual court ladies, and a superior spirit among the cavaliers.

But these requisites are seldom found."

"Were they ever frequent?"

"They were the pride of our nation at the time from which my earliest recollections date," replied the High Steward.

"Just at this time we gained something else of which we may still be proud," rejoined the Scholar. "There was a short period during which the Court became the home of the most liberal culture of the time, and it was only through the rare political circ.u.mstances of our nation that this leadership was possible. Now it has pa.s.sed into other circles, and we have exchanged the increased capacity of many for the distinguished culture of individuals."

"In this also there is a loss," returned the High Steward; "distinguished men have become rare. I am ready to acknowledge the advance which the citizen cla.s.ses have made in the last fifty years.

But the capacity which a people develop in trade and commerce is seldom united with secure self-respect, nay, seldom also with that firmly-established position which is necessary to political strength.

Too frequently we find a wavering between discontented insolence and over-great subserviency; covetousness abounds, and self-sacrifice is small. Wealth increases everywhere; who can deny that? But not in the same degree a comprehension of the highest interests of the nation."

"Time will improve," rejoined the Scholar, "and our sons will become firmer and freer; here too our future belongs to those who work laboriously."

"Much may be lost," said the High Steward, "before the improvement which you expect becomes great enough to secure to those who are struggling onward a salutary and active partic.i.p.ation in the affairs of government. I am too old to nourish myself with hopes, and therefore cannot adopt your sanguine conception of our situation. I wish for the good of our nation, in whatever way it may come. I know it has pa.s.sed through crises more critical than its present swaying between a decaying and a rising culture. But I feel that the air in which I live is growing more sultry; the tense excitement of contrast more dangerous. When I look back on a long life, I sometimes feel horror at the moral pestilence that I have contemplated. It was not a time of gigantic vices like your Imperial era, but it was a time in which, after short poetic dreams, the weakness of petty souls ruled and brought distraction. The figures which in this lamentable time have pa.s.sed away will appear to posterity, not fearful, but grotesque and contemptible. You, Professor, live in a new epoch in which a younger generation awkwardly endeavors to rise. I have no sympathy for the new style. I have not the courage to hope, for I have no power to promote the culture of the younger generation."

He had risen. The old man and the young, vigorous man, the diplomat and the scholar, stood opposite to each other; the one an advocate for the world which was tending downwards; the other a proclaimer of a teaching which was unceasingly to renew the old world; secret sorrow lay on the calm countenance of the old man, and feeling, vigorous feeling, worked in the animated features of the younger: a high mind and a refined spirit were visible in the open countenance of both.

"What we had to say to one another," continued the High Steward, "is said. I have endeavored to make amends for my mistake in regard to you.

May the gossiping openness with which I have exposed myself to your judgment be some small compensation for my having been so long silent.

It is the best satisfaction that I can give to a man of your sort. As respects the diseased state of mind of others, which was the subject of our conversation, there need be no further words between us; both of us will endeavor to do what is our duty concerning the men that are entrusted to our care, to preserve them from danger and to guard ourselves. Mr. Werner, farewell. May the occupation which you have chosen preserve your joyful confidence in your time and your generation for as many years as I bear on my head. This highest happiness of man, I, an insignificant individual, have painfully felt the want of, as did your great Roman."

"Allow me, your Excellency, to express one request to you," replied the Scholar, with warm feeling. "Often may the unpractical activity of the new apostles evoke a bitter smile from you, and the unfinished work which we pioneers of learning throw off will not always satisfy the demands which you make upon us; but when you are compelled to blame us, remember, with forbearance, that our nation can only bear within it the guaranty of renewing youth so long as it does not lose respect for intellectual aspiration, and retains its simple honesty, in love and hate. So long as the nation renews itself, it may inspire its princes and leaders with new life; for we are not Romans, but staunch and warm-hearted Germans."

"Nero no longer ventures to burn the apostles of a new doctrine,"

replied the High Steward, with a sad smile. "May I say something kindly from you to the Sovereign, as far as is compatible with your dignity?"

"I beg you to do so," replied the Professor.

The Professor hastened to take leave of the Princess. She received him in the presence of her ladies and the Marshal. Few words were exchanged. Upon expressing the hope of seeing him soon again at the capital, speech almost forsook her. When he had left the room, she flew up to her library and looked down on the carriage into which the chest was being put. She plucked some flowers which the gardener had placed in her room, and fastened them together with a ribbon.

"His eye looked upon you, and his voice sounded in the narrow halls in which you are pa.s.sing your life. It was a short dream! No, not a dream, a beautiful picture from a new world."

"As the womanly heart submits, in loving devotion, to the stronger mind of a life-companion, her eye fixed upon his, such is the happiness of which I have had a presage. Only once has my hand touched his, but I feel as if I had lain on his heart, invisible, bodiless. No one knows it, not even himself, I alone felt the happiness. Light, airy bond, woven of the tenderest threads that ever were drawn from one human soul to another, thou must be torn and blown away! Only the consciousness remains that the inclination which drew two strangers together has been forever a blessing to one of them.

"You, earnest man, go on your path, and I on mine; and if accident should bring us together, then we shall bow civilly to each other, and greet one another with courtly speeches. Farewell, my scholar. When I meet with one of your a.s.sociates, I shall henceforth know that he belongs to the silent community, in whose porch I have humbly bowed my head."

From the tops of the trees on which the princely child was looking down the birds were singing. The carriage rolled away; she bent down, and held the nosegay with outstretched hand; then with a powerful swing she threw the flowers on to the top of a tree; they hung among the leaves; a little bird flew out, but the next moment he again perched by the nosegay, and continued his song. But the Princess leaned her head against the wall of the tower.

The Scholar drove to the city with the chest he had found beside him.

More rapid and stormy than on his coming were the thoughts that flitted through his soul; he hastened the coachman, and an indefinite anxiety fixed his looks on the rising towers of the capital. But amidst all, he ever saw the figure of the High Steward before him, and heard the sorrowful words of his soft voice.

"Immeasurably great is the difference between the narrow relations of this Court and the mighty greatness of Imperial Rome; immeasurably great also the difference between the troubled Court lord and the gloomy power of a Roman senator. And yet there is something in the structure of the soul that has this day displayed itself to me which reminds me of a figure from a time long past; and what he said sounds in my soul like a feeble tone from the heart of the man whose work I seek in vain. For just as we endeavor to explain the present from the past, so do we interpret circ.u.mstances and figures of a past time in the light of the men that live around us. The past unceasingly sends its spirit into our souls, and we unceasingly adapt the past to conform to the needs of our hearts."

_CHAPTER x.x.xVIII_.

THE MAGISTER'S EXIT.

Professor Raschke was sitting on the floor of his room. The bright colors of his Turkish dressing-gown were faded; constant perseverance in scientific service had given it a tinge of pale grey, but it still continued worthily to cover the limbs of its master. The Professor had seated himself by the side of his eldest son Marcus, in order to facilitate the latter's study of the first book of A, B, C. While the little one, tired of the pictures, was resting, his father made use of the pause to draw a small copy of Aristotle out of his pocket. He read, and made remarks with a pencil, not observing that his son Marcus had long thrown away the picture book, and with the other children danced round their father.

"Papa, take your legs away; we can't get round them," exclaimed Bertha, the eldest, from whom, indeed, one might have expected greater discretion.

Raschke drew in his legs, and as after that he found his seat uncomfortable, he desired the children to bring him a chair. They brought the chair, and he supported his back against it.

"We can't get around yet," cried the dancing children.

Raschke looked up. "Then I will sit upon the chair."

That was satisfactory to the children, and the noisy hubbub continued.

"Come here, Bertha," said Raschke; "you may act as my desk." He laid the book on her head whilst he read and wrote; and the little one stood as still as a mouse under the book, and scolded the others because they made a noise.

There was a knock; the Doctor entered.

"Ha, Fritz!" called out the Professor; "I hardly recognized you; I must try to recall your face. Is it right to set your friends aside in this way, when a friendly greeting might do you good? Laura has told me what has happened to your dear father. A heavy loss," he continued, sorrowfully: "if I am not mistaken, two hundred thousand."

"Just one cipher too much."

"It matters little," replied Raschke, "what the loss is, compared with the sorrow it occasions. I should have been with you, Fritz, at that time. I started immediately, but a circ.u.mstance interfered with my intention," he added, embarra.s.sed. "I have long been accustomed to go to your street in the evening, and--well--I got to the wrong house, and with difficulty found my way back to the lecture."

"Do not pity me," replied the Doctor; "rejoice with me--I am a happy man. I have just now found, what I despaired of obtaining, Laura's heart and the consent of her father."

Raschke clapped the Doctor on the shoulder, and pressed first one hand, then the other. "The father's!" he exclaimed; "he was the hindrance. I know something of him, and I know his dog. If I may judge of the man by his dog," he continued, doubtingly, "he must be a character. Is it not so, my friend?"

The Doctor laughed. "There has been an old enmity brooding over our street. My poor soul has been unkindly treated by him, like the Psyche in the tale of Venus. He vents his anger upon me, and gives me insoluble tasks. But beneath all his insolence, I perceive that he is reconciled to my attachment. I antic.i.p.ate happiness, for I am to-day to accompany Laura to Bielstein. On my friend's account alone have I wished to start earlier on this journey. I cannot rid myself of one anxiety. I am disturbed that the Magister is in the neighborhood of Werner."

Raschke pa.s.sed his hand through his hair. "Indeed," he exclaimed.

"I have distinct reasons for this," continued the Doctor. "The dealer who was said, to have brought the forged parchment strip of Struvelius to the city was sent to me by the mother of the Magister. I dealt severely with him, as was natural; but he a.s.sured me that he knew nothing of such a parchment, and never had sold such a sheet to the Magister. The anger of the man at the false a.s.sertion of the Magister has made me very anxious. It confirms a suspicion that I have expressed in a letter with respect to the genuineness of another piece of writing which has been mentioned to me by Werner from the capital. I cannot help fearing that the Magister himself was the forger, and a terror comes over me at the thought that he is now exercising his art upon our friend."

"That is a very serious affair," exclaimed Raschke, pacing up and down, disquieted. "Werner trusted the Magister implicitly."

The Doctor also paced up and down. "Only think, if his n.o.ble confidence should make him the victim of a deceit. Fancy what a bitter sorrow that would be to him. He would long struggle sternly and self-tormentingly with a painful impression, which we should not be able to obliterate without great effort."

"You are quite right," said Raschke, again pa.s.sing his hand through his hair. "It is not in him to be able to overcome moral delinquency without great excitement. You must warn him at once, and that face to face."

"Unfortunately I cannot do that for several days; meanwhile, I beg of you to make Professor Struvelius acquainted with the statement of the dealer."