Читать книгу 3 Books To Know Nobel Prize in Literature - Paul Heyse - Страница 17

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The new comer was a singular-looking person of middle height, clad in coarse but neat clothes, who looked like a workman just returning from his labor. The insignificant form was surmounted by a compact head, adorned with thick shining black hair and beard, which seemed to harmonize with the body as little as the large hands and feet. Yet the homely pale face was rendered attractive by its expression of innocent, almost childlike simplicity, and if the melancholy man, which seldom happened, opened his thick red lips in a smile, fine white teeth glittered through the coal-black whiskers, and the eyes under the heavy brows could beam with a glance at once so soft and so fiery that it might well win a maiden's heart.

Such was the expression with which, when he met Balder and when no cloud darkened his honest mind, he used to gaze at the youth, for whom he cherished a really enthusiastic, almost sentimental tenderness. He never expressed it in words, of which he was usually very sparing, but even to the most superficial observer it was touching to see what power the youth's warm, sunny nature exerted over his rough, bushy-haired companion, so many years his senior. It was a real "secret love," which year by year had increased in strength and enthusiastic ardor, and which would have found no test too severe. All the grace and harmonious charms of life that had been denied to himself, he loved in this beautiful, noble young friend, and in so doing had almost become a little faithless to the other brother, who possessed older claims to his friendship.

As Edwin was carrying his portfolio to school for the first time, a slender timid little fellow, who was going the same way and belonged to the same class, joined him. He was the seventh son of a surgeon, Franzelius by name, who lived in the neighborhood; he could with difficulty support his family, and yet his principal ambition was to send them all to college. By means of free instruction, gratuitous board and stipends, this was at last accomplished, and toward it Edwin's parents had done their part, by supplying Reinhold, the youngest, their son's daily companion, with his dinner. But even Edwin's patient efforts to thaw his shy schoolmate, were not entirely successful. The wretched life which was lived in his parent's home seemed to oppress his heart more and more, when he returned from the table of kind people in easy circumstances, to a house where it was necessary to count the outgoing of every penny. At a very early age he began to reflect upon the difference in the division of worldly goods, though without bitterness, for he neither conceived nor cherished any unattainable desires. It was rather his parents' anxious fears that constantly made him ponder over the mystery; how had these great discrepancies arisen, how they might perhaps be remedied, until good-natured and unselfish as he was, he would, even as a boy, fly into the most violent passion at the bare mention of his fixed idea. When, in studying Roman history, he came upon the Agrarian laws and the times of the Gracchi, he composed an essay, in which with boyish impetuosity he defended the most revolutionary opinions, gaining for himself the nickname of "Franzelius Gracchus," which clung to him as long as he remained at school.

Then the fate that befell the brothers dissolved the school friendship, until many years after, Edwin met this half-forgotten comrade in Berlin. In outward appearance he had changed very much. The thin, shy boy, had become a sturdy, black-bearded, defiant youth, a person whom all well-bred and well-dressed people would avoid in the street, especially in winter, when a coarse red shawl, which he wore twisted around his neck, contributed not a little to the oddity of his appearance. In mind and disposition he had remained exactly the same; awkward, silent, and gentle, but as soon as his fixed idea was touched, would burst into a flood of stormy eloquence that swept all before it. Edwin had also had occasion, in student circles, to perceive how the same man, who in a small company could scarcely finish his sentences properly, and in individual debate was easily confused and silenced, would fearlessly address a crowd. He had a vehemently dogmatic mind, together with the nature of a true agitator, and he liked to utter the few cardinal principles of his belief in full, ringing tones, but he required for his encouragement, the echo of listening multitudes. Then the deeper water, in which he felt at ease, supported and bore him on, while, when out of the channel, he instantly became uncertain, and from diffidence, especially in the presence of Edwin's intellect and knowledge, he easily yielded, and ceased firing his heavy rhetorical artillery.

But it was not only Edwin's superiority that attracted him. He had become warmly attached to his old friend for a very different reason. That he should now find the latter—whom as the petted child of parents in comfortable circumstances, he had always beheld on the farther side of a wide social gulf—dependent on his own exertions, and living almost as plainly as he himself lived, secretly afforded him pleasure, much as he wished him all possible prosperity. It threw down the barriers between them and placed him on the same footing as his former schoolfellow, but he was completely melted when Balder, whom he had known and petted as a little boy, joined his brother, and with his turning-lathe took up likewise the character of a "workman" in the true sense of the word. According to his father's desire he himself had studied law and had passed his first examination very creditably. But as soon as old Franzelius closed his eyes, Reinhold with his Gracchus-like scorn, became faithless to his career, apprenticed himself to a printer, and regularly served his time. Now for the first time his heart burst its bonds. He felt himself, in affliction, the equal of his brothers "the workmen," and resolved to devote all his energies to the improvement of their lot.

While at the university he had devoted himself to the study of political economy and various similar subjects, albeit in his somewhat cursory way; so now, for the furtherance of his object, he embodied in small pamphlets or sometimes even in single sheets brief discussions on what he considered the vital questions of the proletarian. These impetuous essays, written sometimes in a very dilettante style, he composed and printed himself in his leisure hours and distributed gratuitously among the working population, over which by degrees he obtained great influence. He brought the brothers also these little "fire brands," as he called them, with which he endangered the fields of the Philistines, and was delighted when Balder, in his gentle way, examined each one, though often arguing against them, while Edwin accepted the pamphlets with a good natured jest, but could rarely be drawn into a discussion.

For Edwin was sincerely attached to the worthy fellow. He could still see him sitting in the jacket that had been given him, at his beautiful mother's table, timidly taking the smallest portions from the dishes offered. But keenly alive to the nature and connection of intellectual questions, he possessed moreover, a mind as dogmatically intrenched, as the agitator's was inaccessible, and so willingly avoided useless discussions. Yet he always felt that something was amiss, if he did not see at the usual time the honest, somewhat care worn face, that always incited him to a brilliant display of fireworks in the shape of little witticisms and old school boy jokes, until the thick lips under the bushy beard parted, the white teeth glittered, and the lines between the heavy eye-brows grew smooth. Then the gloomy enthusiast could sit down at the brother's table and share their frugal supper, with as much childish pleasure as if no social questions were disturbing his soul.

But to-day an unusually dark shadow rested upon his brow which contrary to custom even Balder could not succeed in dispelling. He evidently had some trouble, which, with his usual slowness, he could not instantly put into words. Blundering around the room and wiping his broad forehead with a flowered handkerchief, he had at last fallen into a deep reverie before the table on which the plate of plum cake still stood. Balder had invited him to eat some, and related what a great occasion, Reginchen's birthday, had been celebrated by this luxurious revelry. The singular man had remained perfectly mute, seated himself at the table with a heavy sigh, and resting his head on his hands stared as persistently at the nice slices of cake as if they revealed to him the solution of the social problem, as the arcanum of the world flashed upon Jacob Böhmen from a tin dish. Balder had given up talking to him; he was accustomed to such moods and perfectly satisfied to work at his turning lathe and devote himself to his own thoughts.

Such was the state of affairs in which Edwin found them, when an hour after he returned home. At first he was vexed not to see Balder alone; he was very anxious to give vent to the feelings of his oppressed soul. He greeted his old friend somewhat curtly, then went up to Balder, passed his hand over his head, and said: "Have I been away long? I want to read over the dissertation, excuse me, Franzel."

With these words he went to his desk, took out a printed volume, and the three men in the quiet room remained at silent as the two had been before.

Who knows whether they would have found their tongues as speedily, if Mohr had not appeared again. He had found lodgings and came to get his traveling bag. He entered with a very bright face, but drew down his under lip when he perceived Franzelius. After a few disagreeable quarrels they had carefully avoided each other, as their natures necessarily could not harmonise: Mohr, who with cynical frankness, confessed that he always thought only of himself, and Reinhold, the philanthropist, who never considered his own advantage and unhesitatingly sacrificed to his ideal dreams the small degree of comfort he might have procured.

"Why," said Mohr, nodding carelessly to the young printer, "is Bruin here too? Well, how fares the regeneration of mankind? I should think that since the foundation of the artificial hatching establishments, we had advanced considerably nearer to the ideal state when every one will have a chicken in his Sunday pot."

"I—I have no reply to make to such frivolous questions," muttered the other in his beard.

"Still the same quarrelsome old chanticleers," laughed Edwin, closing his book. "Do me the favor, children, not to begin to hiss at once, as fat does when it meets fire. I'll put up with these wordy battles in winter, when they may at least result in warming us. But in such beautiful weather as this——"

"Hear, hear the wiseacre!" cried Mohr. "Well, then, to do honor to the wonder that a philosopher has a clever, practical thought, I'll swear to keep a truce for this evening. Come, let us smoke a cigar of peace in one of the public gardens, for I'm worn out with hunting for lodgings. But I've found what I wanted, a quiet neat little house only ten doors from your 'tun,' kept by an old maid, who during the first hour told me the story of her three broken engagements. So the day is mine, and without neglecting any duty to humanity, I can devote it to you and my thirst. So where shall we go? After being away three years, I no longer know where to get good liquor."

"He is not yet familiar with the rules of the household," said Edwin, glancing at Balder. "You must know, Heinz, that we never go out in the evening, and remain at home still more regularly in the afternoon. The stairs leading to our hen-roost are too steep for Balder, and as when all three windows are open, we have no reason to complain of want of air——"

"Merciful Gods!" interrupted Mohr in a tone of horror, which warned by a glance from Edwin, he instantly tried to convert into one of drollery—"have you shut yourselves up here like oysters? Well, a sedentary life has its attractions, and the air in the 'tun' does not seem to be quite so dry as formerly. At any rate the best plum cake grows here, and I see yonder a dozen red heads, with whose assistance one can hold out for a while."

"A basket of wine?" asked Edwin "In spite of my positive refusal——"

"Marquard sent it, he would take no denial," said Balder. "And," he added blushing, "as I felt a little weak toward noon, I opened a bottle."

"Weak, child?" cried Edwin, forgetting everything else, as he hastily approached him. "Was it your old pain, or some new trouble? And why do I first hear of it now?"

"It wasn't worth mentioning, Edwin. But Marquard was right, I felt better at once. The wine seems very pure and good, you ought——"

"So much the better, if it agrees with you. And you're right, I don't see why we should not drink our old friend's wine. If we had it, and he needed it, wouldn't it be a matter of course?"

Franzelius looked at him with sparkling eyes. One of his pet theories was that of possessing all property in common, a theory which he practised until he had reduced himself to the barest necessaries. Meantime Mohr had again filled Balder's glass from the already opened bottle. He emptied it at a single draught, then poured out more wine and offered it to Franzelius.

"Very fair," said he. "Your health, Franzelius Gracchus. Let's drown all quarrelsome and murderous inclinations for to-day, and commence the business of making mankind happy, with ourselves."

"Thank you," replied the printer, "I shall never drink wine, so long——"

"What? No wine? Then you're no true friend of the people. They're always thirsty. But no matter! I'll forgive Marquard his carriage and patronizing bow, for the sake of his cellar. If he himself has but mediocre ability as a man and a doctor, his wine is excellent, real St. Julien.

"Where's our other glass?" said Edwin, looking around the room. "We really have another, Heinrich, and in a carouse of three tipplers——"

The flush on Balder's cheeks deepened, and he stooped as if he were searching for the missing glass on the floor.

"Of what consequence is the glass?" cried Mohr, who meantime had attacked the cake and now had his mouth full. "The liquor's the main thing, whether we drink it from the cask, the bottle, or a broken cup. My friends, let me tell you that this is the first pleasant hour, that spiteful quean, Fate, has bestowed upon me for the last three years. I'm glad to be once more among people who fare worse than they deserve. I know this is true of you and myself. As for our philanthropist, he at least shows a face that will dull the sharpest sting of envy. Upon my word, Franzel, you look as if things were going wrong. Has Delitzsch passed you to-day without lifting his hat? Did a dozen blood-thirsty millionaires spring from the earth during the last shower? Or were you called upon at the last workmen's meeting, instead of making fine speeches, to tear your breast like the pelican and let a fountain of real St. Julien gush forth, and did you fail to accomplish the trick?"

"I see I'm only in the way here," replied the printer, glancing at Mohr with an expression of indescribable contempt. "I'll not intrude any longer."

He nodded to Balder and walked hastily toward the door, but Edwin seized his hand and detained him.

"Stop!" said he. "We shall not let you go so, Mohr is incorrigible. But there's something the matter with you, Franzel, I see it in your face, and by our old friendship—"

The angry man compressed his lips still more firmly, and said after a long pause: "Why should I speak of it? Ruin takes its own course."

"Ruin?"

"Why yes, sometimes sooner, sometimes later, what does it matter? And we can only rejoice that it should proceed from this cause. It shows in the clearest manner to what our diseased form of government has come—and where it will arrive, if—supposing that—"

He paused again. The friends looked at each other inquiringly.

"If I'm one too many here," said Mohr phlegmatically, rising and seizing the bottle—"I've no objection to drinking this paltry heeltap in your courtyard."

"I have no secrets," muttered the gloomy visitor. "What has happened took place in public; the consequences which still fear the light will soon be noised abroad. A cry of indignation will resound through Germany, when it is known that even now, in the light of the nineteenth century—"

"But, man," interrupted Edwin, "torture has certainly been discarded in the nineteenth century, and yet for the last fifteen minutes you have been applying the thumb-screws of curiosity. Out with it; what has happened, and what consequences still fear the light?"

"Then, if you must know: I was at the workingmen's educational union yesterday—" (Mohr coughed, glanced at Edwin, and then comfortably sipped his wine)—"There was to have been a lecture on the nature and value of education, but the speaker was taken sick and begged to be excused. We were just considering what was to be done, when a new-comer rose, a guest whom no one knew. He had a strange, half humble, half scornful Jesuit face. 'Would the company permit him to make a short address?' The request could not be refused, and he instantly began to speak with a boldness that surpassed everything that could have been expected from his priestly appearance. 'Education? A dangerous thing, at least as the children of the world were accustomed to understand it. The devil, who goes about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour, is a highly cultivated man, not easily caught by modern enlightenment. His proverb is: Education gives liberty, and knowledge rules the world. Yes indeed, the world! So the tempter said to the Lord: "All these things will I give unto thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me!"—But "my kingdom is not of this world"—and so on, the well known litany—True. education desires to know nothing of the so-called treasures of science, which morth and rust may corrupt. He who is fitting himself for heaven, provides for the one thing that is necessary, the'—well, you're doubtless willing to be spared the sermon. When it was over, the honest fellows sat bewildered and thunderstruck. The old habit, acquired in childhood, still lingered: no debate in church!—and even the president seemed to think we ought not to take issue with a guest. But the man had assailed our society in the most offensive way, and were we to be silent? So I began to speak. I was just in the mood, and besides it's a subject to which I've devoted a great deal of thought, I was glad to give the whole society a full discourse from the text: Disparage only reason and science! Well I need not waste any words on the subject among ourselves. But never has it been so clear to me, as in that hour, what a crime those persons commit, who seek to disgust men with the earth, in order to prepare them for what they call heaven. You know I am the last to favor the current talk about utility. These people make the means the end, and if they achieved their object and arranged the world according to their plan—who that did not consider it the highest aim of life to get his stomach satisfied and know the multiplication table by heart, would wish to live in it? But just because there are higher things—transcendent earthly joys, intellectual pleasures, art, poetry, and all other lofty delights—well, you know what I think, and can imagine how indignation against the foes of all earthly happiness loosened my tongue. The assailer of education and heir of heaven grew red and pale by turns. When I at last paused, and all clapped their hands and burst into a shout of assent, he attempted to reply. But the president would not permit him to utter another word, so he soon slipped quietly away.

"He has enough!" I thought, "but I was not yet satisfied. I meant to go into the next house and write a pamphlet, in which I intended to prove by referring to history, what boundless injury the belief in immortality does the world. And last night I did sit down and write a few sheets, the first outline of the essay; for I was too excited to grasp the subject properly, and one must not shake the retort when anything is going to crystallize. But it seems I'm to have plenty of leisure; for when I went home to dinner to-day, my landlord, the cabinet maker, said that some policemen had been there, had inquired very particularly about me, and had noted down the answer. The man looked as if he wanted to say 'six weeks investigation and then exile.' He's quite right. I know them; they've long kept an eye on me, I made them uneasy, but they could find no cause of arrest. Now the priests will take up the matter, and then good bye! So, as I have no inclination to leave my place vacant, I shall for the present not seek my usual bed, but try once more how it seems to sleep in the open air."

"With your consciousness of being a second Gracchus for a soft pillow!" exclaimed Mohr, pledging him in the glass of wine. "You must live, noble mortal, until the last millionaire is hung with the entrails of the last priest, which will probably occur about the same time as the death of the Wandering Jew."

"Your jeers do not wound me," replied the printer impetuously. "There are people who consider all the great questions that affect the welfare of mankind a mere jest, and never think seriously of anything except their own dear selves."

"And why not, you preacher in the wilderness? Charity begins at home. Until I have taken care of my own dear self, where am I to find time and courage to look after my neighbor, or provide for mankind at large? These things are too weighty, my noble fellow, to be exhausted by the first eloquent pen, and and that's why I wish you a long life, so you can at least be able to study the subject at leisure."

Franzelius cast a compassionate glance at him. "So in all ages selfishness has intrenched itself behind a hypocritical modesty," he grumbled. "If no one wished for or did better things, before he knew the best, we should still be in the condition of the lake-dwellers. And must an idea for which hitherto only our holier instincts speak, I mean which cannot yet be mathematically proved—and with which the world after all would be—for when the smallest thought concerns all mankind—Edwin will know what I mean."

"God understands you, and that's enough; see Sancho Panza at the right place," jeered Mohr.

"What do you intend to do now, Franzel?" interrupted Edwin, who during the whole conversation had been sitting on the window sill, stroking Balder's cat.

"That's a secondary consideration. Tell me instead whether you approve of what I have done?"

"Will that undo it?"

"As if I would recall it! But you know I value the thought, that we three at least—even if others have a different opinion—"

He paused and looked at Edwin almost timidly.

"What I think," replied the latter, "is no secret to you. But I am firmly persuaded of many truths, and yet should hesitate a long time before demonstrating them to a crowd of strangers. However, why should we discuss the matter? You will do what you cannot leave undone, and as you have very enthusiastic ideas about the equality of men, even in their powers of thought—"

"He who does not work for all, works for none, or at least only for himself."

"Pardon me, my dear fellow. That's a false conclusion. You yourself will not deny that the division of labor is a useful arrangement. Well then, one begins from below, another from above. If I convince ten of the best minds, give them even a little light in regard to the hardest problems, does not my work in time aid others also? Mens' gifts are as different as their ambitions."

Franzelius was about to make some reply, but restrained himself with evident effort, and only said:

"And you, Balder? Are you too of the opinion, that only a mad ambition urges me to let the little light that is in me shine before the multitude?"

"You misunderstood Edwin," replied the youth, limping up to him and gently unclasping his hand from the door latch. "We all know that you forget yourself in the cause. But he thinks it would be better for the cause, if you were more patient. All fruits do not ripen at the same time. Come, don't let us part so."

"But you, you—could you have kept silence under such provocation?"

"Hush!" Mohr suddenly exclaimed. "Don't you hear her?"—Then as if speaking to himself, he added in a scarcely audible tone: "it's enough to tame wild beasts and socialistic democrats. Eternal Gods! how that woman plays."

The four men in the upper room actually kept so quiet that not a note of the improvisation below was lost. Franzelius had thrown himself into the chair beside the bed, on which Balder sat with his lame leg crossed over the other. Edwin was still seated on the window sill, and Mohr leaned over his glass, with his head resting on his hands, and fairly groaned with delight.

When the music ceased, he rose. "My friends," said he, "I think it is our duty to offer this lady some attention. I will go down and invite her to drink a glass of wine with us to her health."

"Are you mad, Mohr?" laughed Edwin. "She's a respectable person, and will think you have already more glasses of wine in your head than is good for your senses."

Mohr looked at him with an air of comical dignity, and twisted his crooked under lip still more awry. "She's an artist," said he, "no common-place, pedant of a woman. Here are four friends of art—I generously include you, Franzel, as you at least kept quiet while she was playing, though you were probably thinking of your social discords. I'll wager it will be an honor and pleasure to her—give me a decent hat—or no, I'll go bare-headed, like an inmate of the house. It will be less formal."

"You've impudence enough for it. Well then, ask her to bring a glass for the festal banquet."

"She shall drink out of mine," replied Mohr, who was already at the door. "I'll run the risk of her guessing my thoughts."

They heard him go down stairs and ring the bell.

"He's really going to do it," cried Balder, hastily rising from his seat. "What will she think of us?"

Franzelius rose too. "I'll go," said he. "I have not sufficient self-control to endure Mohr's jokes and witticisms in the presence of a lady. Will he be here often now? In that case, I prefer to take my leave until—until you too are tired of a man, who never takes anything seriously."

"You wrong him," replied Edwin. "Fire and water are two equally stern elements, although one accomplishes by heat what the other does by cold:—destroys and vivifies like every power."

"Hm! If you don't freeze meantime—Farewell."

"And where are you going to spend the night?" asked Balder.

"There are plenty of benches in the Thiergarten."

"I wouldn't let you go, Franzel," whispered Balder, as he reached the threshold. "You have already camped here many a night. But—Edwin sleeps so badly now. The least thing disturbs his nerves."

"Thank you, Balder. Don't be anxious about me. Good night!"

They heard him go down stairs, and directly after Mohr came slowly up. He entered the room with a face deeply flushed, but apparently calm.

"Our philanthropist has gone," said he. "I believe I drove him away. I'm sorry; he thinks I don't like him and he's very much mistaken. On the contrary, I do him the honor to envy him."

"For what?"

"Because he's possessed, not only with his mania about persecution, which makes a man just as happy as if he believes himself an unappreciated genius, but because he has a demon that drives him about, speaks from his lips, hides within him, and keeps him warm—while I, a mere husk without kernel or substance—foh!"

"And our artist?" asked Edwin after a pause. "Did she not wish to enjoy either the honor or the pleasure?"

"It's late," replied Mohr, looking at his watch, "too late to open a second bottle, I'll seek my virgin couch."

"He evades us," laughed Edwin, turning to Balder. "She has disappointed his expectations. Ah! Heinz, I could have told you that before; this muse is not a beauty. Her fingers promise more than her features give."

"Talk about what you understand. Philosopher," replied Mohr, seizing his hat. "Let her be what she likes and look as she chooses: she's a whole hearted woman."

"Did you receive satisfactory proofs of that in three minutes?"

"Probably. At least it's a fresh proof that I can accomplish nothing whole, and even in a stupid prank don't go beyond the most pitiful half-way measures. It's actually crushing. I wish you a good nights' rest——"

When he had gone and the brothers were at last alone, Edwin confessed his day's adventures. Balder too might have had many things to tell, but not a word in relation to the birthday festival crossed his lips. And yet he was secretly reproaching himself for having a secret from his brother.

This night they fell asleep earlier, though Balder did not close his eyes until the shutting of a well known little window in the front buildings told him that Reginchen had returned from her excursion in safety.

Several of the verses he had written in the afternoon again passed through his mind, and softly repeating them he lulled himself to sleep with his own melodies.