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diff --git a/5436-0.txt b/5436-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e3294fa --- /dev/null +++ b/5436-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8477 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Hyperion, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: Hyperion + +Author: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow + +Release Date: August 5, 2002 [eBook #5436] +[Most recently updated: January 3, 2022] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Produced by: Charles Aldarondo + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HYPERION *** + + + + +Hyperion + +Henry Wadsworth Longfellow + +1882 + + +CONTENTS. + +BOOK I. + +Epigraph +CHAPTER I. THE HERO. +CHAPTER II. THE CHRIST OF ANDERNACH. +CHAPTER III. HOMUNCULUS. +CHAPTER IV. THE LANDLADY'S DAUGHTER. +CHAPTER V. JEAN PAUL, THE ONLY-ONE. +CHAPTER VI. HEIDELBERG AND THE BARON. +CHAPTER VII. LIVES OF SCHOLARS. +CHAPTER VIII. LITERARY FAME. + +BOOK II. + +Epigraph +CHAPTER I. SPRING. +CHAPTER II. A COLLOQUY. +CHAPTER III. OWL-TOWERS. +CHAPTER IV. A BEER-SCANDAL. +CHAPTER V. THE WHITE LADY'S SLIPPER AND THE PASSION-FLOWER. +CHAPTER VI. GLIMPSES INTO CLOUD-LAND. +CHAPTER VII. MILL-WHEELS AND OTHER WHEELS. +CHAPTER VIII. OLD HUMBUG. +CHAPTER IX. THE DAYLIGHT OF THE DWARFS, AND THE FALLING STAR. +CHAPTER X. THE PARTING. + +BOOK III. + +Epigraph +CHAPTER I. SUMMER-TIME. +CHAPTER II. FOOT-TRAVELLING. +CHAPTER III. INTERLACHEN. +CHAPTER IV. THE EVENING AND THE MORNING STAR. +CHAPTER V. A RAINY DAY. +CHAPTER VI. AFTER DINNER, AND AFTER THE MANNER OF THE BEST CRITICS. +CHAPTER VII. TAKE CARE! +CHAPTER VIII. THE FOUNTAIN OF OBLIVION. +CHAPTER IX. A TALK ON THE STAIRS. + +BOOK IV. + +Epigraph +CHAPTER I. A MISERERE. +CHAPTER II. CURFEW BELLS. +CHAPTER III. SHADOWS ON THE WALL. +CHAPTER IV. MUSICAL SUFFERINGS OF JOHN KREISLER. +CHAPTER V. SAINT GILGEN. +CHAPTER VI. SAINT WOLFGANG. +CHAPTER VII. THE STORY OF BROTHER BERNARDUS. +CHAPTER VIII. FOOT-PRINTS OF ANGELS. +CHAPTER IX. THE LAST PANG. + + +BOOK I. + + + + +Epigraph + +"Who ne'er his bread in sorrow ate, + +Who ne'er the mournful, midnight hours + +Weeping upon his bed has sate, + +He knows you not, ye Heavenly Powers." + + + + +CHAPTER I. THE HERO. + +In John Lyly's Endymion, Sir Topas is made to say; "Dost thou know what +a Poet is? Why, fool, a Poet is as much as one should say,--a Poet!" +And thou, reader, dost thou know what a hero is? Why, a hero is as much +as one should say,--a hero! Some romance-writers, however, say much +more than this. Nay, the old Lombard, Matteo Maria Bojardo, set all the +church-bells in Scandiano ringing, merely because he had found a name +for one of his heroes. Here, also, shall church-bells be rung, but more +solemnly. + +The setting of a great hope is like the setting of the sun. The +brightness of our life is gone. Shadows of evening fall around us, and +the world seems but a dim reflection,--itself a broader shadow. We look +forward into the coming, lonely night. The soul withdraws into itself. +Then stars arise, and the night is holy. + +Paul Flemming had experienced this, though still young. The friend of +his youth was dead. The bough had broken "under the burden of the +unripe fruit." And when, after a season, he looked up again from the +blindness of his sorrow, all things seemed unreal. Like the man, whose +sight had been restored by miracle, he beheld men, as trees, walking. +His household gods were broken. He had no home. His sympathies cried +aloud from his desolate soul, and there came no answer from the busy, +turbulent world around him. He did not willingly give way to grief. He +struggled to be cheerful,--to be strong. But he could no longer look +into the familiar faces of his friends. He could no longer live alone, +where he had lived with her. He went abroad, that the sea might be +between him and the grave. Alas! betweenhim and his sorrow there could +be no sea, but that of time. + +He had already passed many months in lonely wandering, and was now +pursuing his way along the Rhine, to the south of Germany. He had +journeyed the same way before, in brighter days and a brighter season +of the year, in the May of life and in the month of May. He knew the +beauteous river all by heart;--every rock and ruin, every echo, every +legend. The ancient castles, grim and hoar, that had taken root as it +were on the cliffs,--they were all his; for his thoughts dwelt in them, +and the wind told him tales. + +He had passed a sleepless night at Rolandseck, and had risen before +daybreak. He opened the window of the balcony to hear the rushing of +the Rhine. It was a damp December morning; and clouds were passing over +the sky,--thin, vapory clouds, whose snow-white skirts were "often +spotted with golden tears, which men call stars." The day dawned +slowly; and, in the mingling of daylightand starlight, the island and +cloister of Nonnenwerth made together but one broad, dark shadow on the +silver breast of the river. Beyond, rose the summits of the +Siebengebirg. Solemn and dark, like a monk, stood the Drachenfels, in +his hood of mist, and rearward extended the Curtain of Mountains, back +to the Wolkenburg,--the Castle of the Clouds. + +But Flemming thought not of the scene before him. Sorrow unspeakable +was upon his spirit in that lonely hour; and, hiding his face in his +hands, he exclaimed aloud; + +"Spirit of the past! look not so mournfully at me with thy great, +tearful eyes! Touch me not with thy cold hand! Breathe not upon me with +the icy breath of the grave! Chant no more that dirge of sorrow, +through the long and silent watches of the night!" + +Mournful voices from afar seemed to answer, "Treuenfels!" and he +remembered how others had suffered, and his heart grew still. + +Slowly the landscape brightened. Down therushing stream came a boat, +with its white wings spread, and darted like a swallow through the +narrow pass of God's-Help. The boatmen were singing, but not the song +of Roland the Brave, which was heard of old by the weeping Hildegund, +as she sat within the walls of that cloister, which now looked forth in +the pale morning from amid the leafless linden trees. The dim +traditions of those gray old times rose in the traveller's memory; for +the ruined tower of Rolandseck was still looking down upon the Kloster +Nonnenwerth, as if the sound of the funeral bell had changed the +faithful Paladin to stone, and he were watching still to see the form +of his beloved one come forth, not from her cloister, but from her +grave. Thus the brazen clasps of the book of legends were opened, and, +on the page illuminated by the misty rays of the rising sun, he read +again the tales of Liba, and the mournful bride of Argenfels, and +Siegfried, the mighty slayer of the dragon. Meanwhile the mists had +risen from the Rhine, and the whole air was filled with golden vapor, +through which hebeheld the sun, hanging in heaven like a drop of blood. +Even thus shone the sun within him, amid the wintry vapors, uprising +from the valley of the shadow of death, through which flowed the stream +of his life,--sighing, sighing! + + + + +CHAPTER II. THE CHRIST OF ANDERNACH. + +Paul Flemming resumed his solitary journey. The morning was still +misty, but not cold. Across the Rhine the sun came wading through the +reddish vapors; and soft and silver-white outspread the broad river, +without a ripple upon its surface, or visible motion of the ever-moving +current. A little vessel, with one loose sail, was riding at anchor, +keel to keel with another, that lay right under it, its own +apparition,--and all was silent, and calm, and beautiful. + +The road was for the most part solitary; for there are few travellers +upon the Rhine in winter. Peasant women were at work in the vineyards; +climbing up the slippery hill-sides, like beasts of burden, with large +baskets of manureupon their backs. And once during the morning, a band +of apprentices, with knapsacks, passed by, singing, "The Rhine! The +Rhine! a blessing on the Rhine!" + +O, the pride of the German heart in this noble river! And right it is; +for, of all the rivers of this beautiful earth, there is none so +beautiful as this. There is hardly a league of its whole course, from +its cradle in the snowy Alps to its grave in the sands of Holland, +which boasts not its peculiar charms. By heavens! If I were a German I +would be proud of it too; and of the clustering grapes, that hang about +its temples, as it reels onward through vineyards, in a triumphal +march, like Bacchus, crowned and drunken. + +But I will not attempt to describe the Rhine; it would make this +chapter much too long. And to do it well, one should write like a god; +and his style flow onward royally with breaks and dashes, like the +waters of that royal river, and antique, quaint, and Gothic times, be +reflected in it. Alas! this evening my style flows not at all. Flow, +then, into this smoke-colored goblet, thou blood of the Rhine! out of +thy prison-house,--out of thy long-necked, tapering flask, in shape not +unlike a church-spire among thy native hills; and, from the crystal +belfry, loud ring the merry tinkling bells, while I drink a health to +my hero, in whose heart is sadness, and in whose ears the bells of +Andernach are ringing noon. + +He is threading his way alone through a narrow alley, and now up a +flight of stone steps, and along the city wall, towards that old round +tower, built by the Archbishop Frederick of Cologne in the twelfth +century. It has a romantic interest in his eyes; for he has still in +his mind and heart that beautiful sketch of Carové, in which is +described a day on the tower of Andernach. He finds the old keeper and +his wife still there; and the old keeper closes the door behind him +slowly, as of old, lest he should jam too hard the poor souls in +Purgatory, whose fate it is to suffer in the cracks of doors and +hinges. But alas! alas! the daughter, the maiden with long, dark +eyelashes! she is asleep in her little grave, under the linden trees of +Feldkirche, with rosemary in her folded hands! + +Flemming returned to the hotel disappointed. As he passed along the +narrow streets, he was dreaming of many things; but mostly of the +keeper's daughter, asleep in the churchyard of Feldkirche. Suddenly, on +turning the corner of an ancient, gloomy church, his attention was +arrested by a little chapel in an angle of the wall. It was only a +small thatched roof, like a bird's nest; under which stood a rude +wooden image of the Saviour on the Cross. A real crown of thorns was +upon his head, which was bowed downward, as if in the death agony; and +drops of blood were falling down his cheeks, and from his hands and +feet and side. The face was haggard and ghastly beyond all expression; +and wore a look of unutterable bodily anguish. The rude sculptor had +given it this, but his art could go no farther. The sublimity of death +in a dying Saviour, the expiring God-likeness of Jesus of Nazareth was +not there. The artist had caught no heavenly inspiration from his +theme. All was coarse, harsh, and revolting to a sensitive mind; and +Flemming turned away with a shudder, as he saw this fearful image +gazing at him, with its fixed and half-shut eyes. + +He soon reached the hotel, but that face of agony still haunted him. He +could not refrain from speaking of it to a very old woman, who sat +knitting by the window of the dining-room, in a high-backed, +old-fashioned arm-chair. I believe she was the innkeeper's grandmother. +At all events she was old enough to be so. She took off her owl-eyed +spectacles, and, as she wiped the glasses with her handkerchief, said; + +"Thou dear Heaven! Is it possible! Did you never hear of the Christ of +Andernach?" + +Flemming answered in the negative. + +"Thou dear Heaven!" continued the old woman. "It is a very wonderful +story; and a true one, as every good Christian in Andernach will tell +you. And it all happened before the deathof my blessed man, four years +ago, let me see,--yes, four years ago, come Christmas." + +Here the old woman stopped speaking, but went on with her knitting. +Other thoughts seemed to occupy her mind. She was thinking, no doubt, +of her blessed man, as German widows call their dead husbands. But +Flemming having expressed an ardent wish to hear the wonderful story, +she told it, in nearly the following words. + +"There was once a poor old woman in Andernach whose name was Frau +Martha, and she lived all alone in a house by herself, and loved all +the Saints and the blessed Virgin, and was as good as an angel, and +sold pies down by the Rheinkrahn. But her house was very old, and the +roof-tiles were broken, and she was too poor to get new ones, and the +rain kept coming in, and no Christian soul in Andernach would help her. +But the Frau Martha was a good woman, and never did anybody any harm, +but went to mass every morning, and sold pies by the Rheinkrahn. Now +one dark, windy night, when all the good Christians in Andernachwere +abed and asleep in the feathers, Frau Martha, who slept under the roof, +heard a great noise over her head, and in her chamber, drip! drip! +drip! as if the rain were dropping down through the broken tiles. Dear +soul! and sure enough it was. And then there was a pounding and +hammering overhead, as if somebody were at work on the roof; and she +thought it was Pelz-Nickel tearing the tiles off, because she had not +been to confession often enough. So she began to pray; and the faster +she said her Pater-noster and her Ave-Maria, the faster Pelz-Nickel +pounded and pulled; and drip! drip! drip! it went all round her in the +dark chamber, till the poor woman was frightened out of her wits, and +ran to the window to call for help. Then in a moment all was +still,--death-still. But she saw a light streaming through the mist and +rain, and a great shadow on the house opposite. And then somebody came +down from the top of her house by a ladder, and had a lantern in his +hand; and he took the ladder on his shoulder and went down thestreet. +But she could not see clearly, because the window was streaked with +rain. And in the morning the old broken tiles were found scattered +about the street, and there were new ones on the roof, and the old +house has never leaked to this blessed day. + +"As soon as mass was over Frau Martha told the priest what had +happened, and he said it was not Pelz-Nickel, but, without doubt, St. +Castor or St. Florian. Then she went to the market and told Frau +Bridget all about it; and Frau Bridget said, that, two nights before, +Hans Claus, the cooper, had heard a great pounding in his shop, and in +the morning found new hoops on all his old hogsheads; and that a man +with a lantern and a ladder had been seen riding out of town at +midnight on a donkey, and that the same night the old windmill, at +Kloster St. Thomas, had been mended up, and the old gate of the +churchyard at Feldkirche made as good as new, though nobody knew how +the man got across the river. Then Frau Martha went down to the +Rheinkrahn and told all thesestories over again; and the old ferryman +of Fahr said he could tell something about it; for, the very night that +the churchyard-gate was mended, he was lying awake in his bed, because +he could not sleep, and he heard a loud knocking at the door, and +somebody calling to him to get up and set him over the river. And when +he got up, he saw a man down by the river with a lantern and a ladder; +but as he was going down to him, the man blew out the light, and it was +so dark he could not see who he was; and his boat was old and leaky, +and he was afraid to set him over in the dark; but the man said he must +be in Andernach that night; and so he set him over. And after they had +crossed the river, he watched the man, till he came to an image of the +Holy Virgin, and saw him put the ladder against the wall, and go up and +light his lamp, and then walk along the street. And in the morning he +found his old boat all caulked, and tight, and painted red, and he +could not for his blessed life tell who did it, unless it werethe man +with the lantern. Dear soul! how strange it was! + +"And so it went on for some time; and, whenever the man with the +lantern had been seen walking through the street at night, so sure as +the morning came, some work had been done for the sake of some good +soul; and everybody knew he did it; and yet nobody could find out who +he was, nor where he lived;--for, whenever they came near him, he blew +out his light, and turned down another street, and, if they followed +him, he suddenly disappeared, nobody could tell how. And some said it +was Rübezahl; and some, Pelz-Nickel; and some, St. +Anthony-on-the-Health. + +"Now one stormy night a poor, sinful creature was wandering about the +streets, with her babe in her arms, and she was hungry, and cold, and +no soul in Andernach would take her in. And when she came to the +church, where the great crucifix stands, she saw no light in the little +chapel at the corner; but she sat down on a stone at the foot of the +cross and began to pray, and prayed, till she fell asleep, with her +poor little babe on her bosom. But she did not sleep long; for a bright +light shone full in her face; and, when she opened her eyes, she saw a +pale man, with a lantern, standing right before her. He was almost +naked; and there was blood upon his hands and body, and great tears in +his beautiful eyes, and his face was like the face of the Saviour on +the cross. Not a single word did he say to the poor woman; but looked +at her compassionately, and gave her a loaf of bread, and took the +little babe in his arms, and kissed it. Then the mother looked up to +the great crucifix, but there was no image there; and she shrieked and +fell down as if she were dead. And there she was found with her child; +and a few days after they both died, and were buried together in one +grave. And nobody would have believed her story, if a woman, who lived +at the corner, had not gone to the window, when she heard the scream, +and seen the figure hang the lantern up in its place, and then set the +ladder against the wall, and go up and nailitself to the cross. Since +that night it has never moved again. Ach! Herr Je!" + +Such was the legend of the Christ of Andernach, as the old woman in +spectacles told it to Flemming. It made a painful impression on his +sick and morbid soul; and he felt now for the first time in full force, +how great is the power of popular superstition. + +The post-chaise was now at the door, and Flemming was soon on the road +to Coblentz, a city which stands upon the Rhine, at the mouth of the +Mosel, opposite Ehrenbreitstein. It is by no means a long drive from +Andernach to Coblentz; and the only incident which occurred to enliven +the way was the appearance of a fat, red-faced man on horseback, +trotting slowly towards Andernach. As they met, the mad little +postilion gave him a friendly cut with his whip, and broke out into an +exclamation, which showed he was from Münster; + +"Jesmariosp! my friend! How is the Man in the Custom-House?" + +Now to any candid mind this would seem a fair question enough; but not +so thought the red-faced man on horseback; for he waxed exceedingly +angry, and replied, as the chaise whirled by; + +"The devil take you, and your Westphalian ham, and pumpernickel!" + +Flemming called to his servant, and the servant to the postilion, for +an explanation of this short dialogue; and the explanation was, that on +the belfry of the Kaufhaus in Coblentz, is a huge head, with a brazen +helmet and a beard; and whenever the clock strikes, at each stroke of +the hammer, this giant's head opens its great jaws and smites its teeth +together, as if, like the brazen head of Friar Bacon, it would say; +"Time was; Time is; Time is past." This figure is known through all the +country round about, as "The Man in the Custom-House"; and, when a +friend in the country meets a friend from Coblentz, instead of saying, +"How are all the good people in Coblentz?"--he says, "How is the Man in +the Custom-House?" Thus the giant has a great partto play in the town; +and thus ended the first day of Flemming's Rhine-journey; and the only +good deed he had done was to give an alms to a poor beggar woman, who +lifted up her trembling hands and exclaimed; + +"Thou blessed babe!" + + + + +CHAPTER III. HOMUNCULUS. + +After all, a journey up the Rhine, in the mists and solitude of +December, is not so unpleasant as the reader may perhaps imagine. You +have the whole road and river to yourself. Nobody is on the wing; +hardly a single traveller. The ruins are the same; and the river, and +the outlines of the hills; and there are few living figures in the +landscape to wake you from your musings, distract your thoughts, and +cover you with dust. + +Thus, likewise, thought our traveller, as he continued his journey on +the morrow. The day is overcast, and the clouds threaten rain or snow. +Why does he stop at the little village of Capellen? Because, right +above him on the high cliff, the glorious ruin of Stolzenfels is +looking at him with itshollow eyes, and beckoning to him with its +gigantic finger, as if to say; "Come up hither, and I will tell thee an +old tale." Therefore he alights, and goes up the narrow village lane, +and up the stone steps, and up the steep pathway, and throws himself +into the arms of that ancient ruin, and holds his breath, to hear the +quick footsteps of the falling snow, like the footsteps of angels +descending upon earth. And that ancient ruin speaks to him with its +hollow voice, and says; + +"Beware of dreams! Beware of the illusions of fancy! Beware of the +solemn deceivings of thy vast desires! Beneath me flows the Rhine, and, +like the stream of Time, it flows amid the ruins of the Past. I see +myself therein, and I know that I am old. Thou, too, shalt be old. Be +wise in season. Like the stream of thy life, runs the stream beneath +us. Down from the distant Alps,--out into the wide world, it bursts +away, like a youth from the house of his fathers. Broad-breasted and +strong, and with earnest endeavours, like manhood, it makes itself a +way through these difficultmountain passes. And at length, in its old +age, its stops, and its steps are weary and slow, and it sinks into the +sand, and, through its grave, passes into the great ocean, which is its +eternity. Thus shall it be with thee. + +"In ancient times there dwelt within these halls a follower of Jesus of +Jerusalem,--an Archbishop in the church of Christ. He gave himself up +to dreams; to the illusions of fancy; to the vast desires of the human +soul. He sought after the impossible. He sought after the Elixir of +Life,--the Philosopher's Stone. The wealth, that should have fed the +poor, was melted in his crucibles. Within these walls the Eagle of the +clouds sucked the blood of the Red Lion, and received the spiritual +Love of the Green Dragon, but alas! was childless. In solitude and +utter silence did the disciple of the Hermetic Philosophy toil from day +to day, from night to night. From the place where thou standest, he +gazed at evening upon hills, and vales, and waters spread beneath him; +and saw how the setting sun had changed them allto gold, by an alchymy +more cunning than his own. He saw the world beneath his feet; and said +in his heart, that he alone was wise. Alas! he read more willingly in +the book of Paracelsus, than in the book of Nature; and, believing that +`where reason hath experience, faith hath no mind,' would fain have +made unto himself a child, not as Nature teaches us, but as the +Philosopher taught,--a poor homunculus, in a glass bottle. And he died +poor and childless!" + +Whether it were worth while to climb the Stolzenfels to hear such a +homily as this, some persons may perhaps doubt. But Paul Flemming +doubted not. He laid the lesson to heart; and it would have saved him +many an hour of sorrow, if he had learned that lesson better, and +remembered it longer. + +In ancient times, there stood in the citadel of Athens three statues of +Minerva. The first was of olive wood, and, according to popular +tradition, had fallen from heaven. The second was of bronze, +commemorating the victory of Marathon; and the third of gold and +ivory,--a great miracle of art, in the age of Pericles. And thus in the +citadel of Time stands Man himself. In childhood, shaped of soft and +delicate wood, just fallen from heaven; in manhood, a statue of bronze, +commemorating struggle and victory; and lastly, in the maturity of age, +perfectly shaped in gold and ivory,--a miracle of art! + +Flemming had already lived through the oliveage. He was passing into +the age of bronze, into his early manhood; and in his hands the flowers +of Paradise were changing to the sword and shield. + +And this reminds me, that I have not yet described my hero. I will do +it now, as he stands looking down on the glorious landscape;--but in +few words. Both in person and character he resembled Harold, the +Fair-Hair of Norway, who is described, in the old Icelandic Death-Song +of Regner Hairy-Breeches, as "the young chief so proud of his flowing +locks; he who spent his mornings among the young maidens; he who loved +toconverse with the handsome widows." This was an amiable weakness; and +it sometimes led him into mischief. Imagination was the ruling power of +his mind. His thoughts were twin-born; the thought itself, and its +figurative semblance in the outer world. Thus, through the quiet, still +waters of his soul each image floated double, "swan and shadow." + +These traits of character, a good heart and a poetic imagination, made +his life joyous and the world beautiful; till at length Death cut down +the sweet, blue flower, that bloomed beside him, and wounded him with +that sharp sickle, so that he bowed his head, and would fain have been +bound up in the same sheaf with the sweet, blue flower. Then the world +seemed to him less beautiful, and life became earnest. It would have +been well if he could have forgotten the past; that he might not so +mournfully have lived in it, but might have enjoyed and improved the +present. But this his heart refused to do; and ever, as he floated upon +the great sea of life, he looked down through thetransparent waters, +checkered with sunshine and shade, into the vast chambers of the mighty +deep, in which his happier days had sunk, and wherein they were lying +still visible, like golden sands, and precious stones, and pearls; and, +half in despair, half in hope, he grasped downward after them again, +and drew back his hand, filled only with seaweed, and dripping with +briny tears!--And between him and those golden sands, a radiant image +floated, like the spirit in Dante's Paradise, singing "Ave-Maria!" and +while it sang, down-sinking, and slowly vanishing away. + +The truth is, that in all things he acted more from impulse than from +fixed principle; as is the case with most young men. Indeed, his +principles hardly had time to take root; for he pulled them all up, +every now and then, as children do the flowers they have planted,--to +see if they are growing. Yet there was much in him which was good; for +underneath the flowers and green-sward of poetry, and the good +principles which would have taken root, had he given them time, +therelay a strong and healthy soil of common sense,--freshened by +living springs of feeling, and enriched by many faded hopes, that had +fallen upon it like dead leaves. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. THE LANDLADY'S DAUGHTER. + +"Allez Fuchs! allez lustig!" cried the impatient postilion to his +horses, in accents, which, like the wild echo of the Lurley Felsen, +came first from one side of the river, and then from the other,--that +is to say, in words alternately French and German. The truth is, he was +tired of waiting; and when Flemming had at length resumed his seat in +the post-chaise, the poor horses had to make up the time lost in dreams +on the mountain. This is far oftener the case, than most people +imagine. One half of the world has to sweat and groan, that the other +half may dream. It would have been a difficult task for the traveller +or his postilion to persuade the horses, that these dreams were all for +their good. + +The next stopping-place was the little tavern of the Star, an +out-of-the-way corner in the town of Salzig. It stands on the banks of +the Rhine; and, directly in front of it, sheer from the water's edge, +rise the mountains of Liebenstein and Sternenfels, each with its ruined +castle. These are the Brothers of the old tradition, still gazing at +each other face to face; and beneath them in the valley stands a +cloister,--meek emblem of that orphan child, they both so passionately +loved. + +In a small, flat-bottomed boat did the landlady's daughter row Flemming +"over the Rhine-stream, rapid and roaring wide." She was a beautiful +girl of sixteen; with black hair, and dark, lovely eyes, and a face +that had a story to tell. How different faces are in this particular! +Some of them speak not. They are books in which not a line is written, +save perhaps a date. Others are great family bibles, with all the Old +and New Testament written in them. Others are Mother Goose and nursery +tales;--others bad tragedies or pickle-herring farces; and others, like +that of the landlady's daughter at the Star, sweet love-anthologies, +and songs of the affections. It was on that account, that Flemming said +to her, as they glided out into the swift stream; + +"My dear child! do you know the story of the Liebenstein?" + +"The story of the Liebenstein," she answered, "I got by heart, when I +was a little child." + +And here her large, dark, passionate eyes looked into Flemming's, and +he doubted not, that she had learned the story far too soon, and far +too well. That story he longed to hear, as if it were unknown to him; +for he knew that the girl, who had got it by heart when a child, would +tell it as it should be told. So he begged her to repeat the story, +which she was but too glad to do; for she loved and believed it, as if +it had all been written in the Bible. But before she began, she rested +a moment on her oars, and taking the crucifix, which hung suspended +from her neck, kissed it, and then let it sink down into her bosom, as +if it were an anchor she was letting down into her heart. Meanwhile her +moist, dark eyes were turned to heaven. Perhaps her soul was walking +with the souls of Cunizza, and Rahab, and Mary Magdalen. Or perhaps she +was thinking of that Nun, of whom St. Gregory says, in his Dialogues, +that, having greedily eaten a lettuce in a garden, without making the +sign of the cross, she found herself soon after possessed with a devil. + +The probability, however, is, that she was looking up to the ruined +castles only, and not to heaven, for she soon began her story, and told +Flemming how, a great, great many years ago, an old man lived in the +Liebenstein with his two sons; and how both the young men loved the +Lady Geraldine, an orphan, under their father's care; and how the elder +brother went away in despair, and the younger was betrothed to the Lady +Geraldine; and how they were as happy as Aschenputtel and the Prince. +And then the holy Saint Bernard came and carried away all the young men +to the war, just as Napoleon did afterwards; and the young lord went to +the Holy Land, and the Lady Geraldine sat in her tower and wept, and +waited for her lover's return, while the old father built the +Sternenfels for them to live in when they were married. And when it was +finished, the old man died; and the elder brother came back and lived +in the Liebenstein, and took care of the gentle Lady. Ere long there +came news from the Holy Land, that the war was over; and the heart of +the gentle Lady beat with joy, till she heard that her faithless lover +was coming back with a Greek wife,--the wicked man! and then she went +into a convent and became a holy nun. So the young lord of Sternenfels +came home, and lived in his castle in great splendor with the Greek +woman, who was a wicked woman, and did what she ought not to do. But +the elder brother was angry for the wrong done the gentle Lady, and +challenged the lord of Sternenfels to single combat. And, while they +were fighting with their great swords in the valley of Bornhofen behind +the castle, the convent bells began to ring, and the Lady Geraldine +came forth with a train of nuns alldressed in white, and made the +brothers friends again, and told them she was the bride of Heaven, and +happier in her convent than she could have been in the Liebenstein or +the Sternenfels. And when the brothers returned, they found that the +false Greek wife had gone away with another knight. So they lived +together in peace, and were never married. And when they died--" + +"Lisbeth! Lisbeth!" cried a sharp voice from the shore, "Lisbeth! Where +are you taking the gentleman?" + +This recalled the poor girl to her senses; and she saw how fast they +were floating down stream. For in telling the story she had forgotten +every thing else, and the swift current had swept them down to the tall +walnut trees of Kamp. They landed in front of the Capucin Monastery. +Lisbeth led the way through the little village, and turning to the +right pointed up the romantic, lonely valley which leads to the +Liebenstein, and even offered to go up. But Flemming patted her cheek +and shook his head. He went up the valley alone. + + + + +CHAPTER V. JEAN PAUL, THE ONLY-ONE. + +The man in the play, who wished for `some forty pounds of lovely beef, +placed in a Mediterranean sea of brewis,' might have seen his ample +desires almost realized at the table d'hôte of the Rheinischen Hof, in +Mayence, where Flemming dined that day. At the head of the table sat a +gentleman, with a smooth, broad forehead, and large, intelligent eyes. +He was from Baireuth in Franconia; and talked about poetry and Jean +Paul, to a pale, romantic-looking lady on his right. There was music +all dinner-time, at the other end of the hall; a harp and a horn and a +voice; so that a great part of the fat gentleman's conversation with +the pale lady was lost to Flemming, who sat opposite to her, and could +look right into her large, melancholy eyes. But what heheard, so much +interested him,--indeed, the very name of the beloved Jean Paul would +have been enough for this,--that he ventured to join in the +conversation, and asked the German if he had known the poet personally. + +"Yes; I knew him well," replied the stranger. "I am a native of +Baireuth, where he passed the best years of his life. In my mind the +man and the author are closely united. I never read a page of his +writings without hearing his voice, and seeing his form before me. +There he sits, with his majestic, mountainous forehead, his mild blue +eyes, and finely cut nose and mouth; his massive frame clad loosely and +carelessly in an old green frock, from the pockets of which the corners +of books project, and perhaps the end of a loaf of bread, and the nose +of a bottle;--a straw hat, lined with green, lying near him; a huge +walking-stick in his hand, and at his feet a white poodle, with pink +eyes and a string round his neck. You would sooner have taken him for a +master-carpenter than for a poet. Is he a favorite author of yours?" + +Flemming answered in the affirmative. + +"But a foreigner must find it exceedingly difficult to understand him," +said the gentleman. "It is by no means an easy task for us Germans." + +"I have always observed," replied Flemming, "that the true +understanding and appreciation of a poet depend more upon individual, +than upon national character. If there be a sympathy between the minds +of writer and reader, the bounds and barriers of a foreign tongue are +soon overleaped. If you once understand an author's character, the +comprehension of his writings becomes easy." + +"Very true," replied the German, "and the character of Richter is too +marked to be easily misunderstood. Its prominent traits are tenderness +and manliness,--qualities, which are seldom found united in so high a +degree as in him. Over all he sees, over all he writes, are spread the +sunbeams of a cheerful spirit,--the light of inexhaustible human love. +Every sound of human joy and of human sorrow finds a +deep-resoundingecho in his bosom. In every man, he loves his humanity +only, not his superiority. The avowed object of all his literary labors +was to raise up again the down-sunken faith in God, virtue, and +immortality; and, in an egotistical, revolutionary age, to warm again +our human sympathies, which have now grown cold. And not less boundless +is his love for nature,--for this outward, beautiful world. He embraces +it all in his arms." + +"Yes," answered Flemming, almost taking the words out of the stranger's +mouth, "for in his mind all things become idealized. He seems to +describe himself when he describes the hero of his Titan, as a child, +rocking in a high wind upon the branches of a full-blossomed +apple-tree, and, as its summit, blown abroad by the wind, now sunk him +in deep green, and now tossed him aloft in deep blue and glancing +sunshine,--in his imagination stood that tree gigantic;--it grew alone +in the universe, as if it were the tree of eternal life; its roots +struck down into the abyss; the white and red clouds hung as blossoms +upon it; the moon asfruit; the little stars sparkled like dew, and +Albano reposed in its measureless summit; and a storm swayed the summit +out of Day into Night, and out of Night into Day." + +"Yet the spirit of love," interrupted the Franconian, "was not +weakness, but strength. It was united in him with great manliness. The +sword of his spirit had been forged and beaten by poverty. Its temper +had been tried by a thirty years' war. It was not broken, not even +blunted; but rather strengthened and sharpened by the blows it gave and +received. And, possessing this noble spirit of humanity, endurance, and +self-denial, he made literature his profession; as if he had been +divinely commissioned to write. He seems to have cared for nothing +else, to have thought of nothing else, than living quietly and making +books. He says, that he felt it his duty, not to enjoy, nor to acquire, +but to write; and boasted, that he had made as many books as he had +lived years." + +"And what do you Germans consider the prominent characteristics of his +genius?" + +"Most undoubtedly his wild imagination and his playfulness. He throws +over all things a strange and magic coloring. You are startled at the +boldness and beauty of his figures and illustrations, which are +scattered everywhere with a reckless prodigality;--multitudinous, like +the blossoms of early summer,--and as fragrant and beautiful. With a +thousand extravagances are mingled ten thousand beauties of thought and +expression, which kindle the reader's imagination, and lead it onward +in a bold flight, through the glow of sunrise and sunset, and the dewy +coldness and starlight of summer nights. He is difficult to +understand,--intricate,--strange,--drawing his illustrations from every +by-corner of science, art, and nature,--a comet, among the bright stars +of German literature. When you read his works, it is as if you were +climbing a high mountain, in merry company, to see the sun rise. At +times you are enveloped in mist,--the morning wind sweeps by you with a +shout,--you hear the far-off muttering thunders. Wide beneath you +spreads the landscape,--field, meadow, town, and winding river. The +ringing of distant church-bells, or the sound of solemn village clock, +reaches you;--then arises the sweet and manifold fragrance of +flowers,--the birds begin to sing,--the vapors roll away,--up comes the +glorious sun,--you revel like the lark in the sunshine and bright blue +heaven, and all is a delirious dream of soul and sense,--when suddenly +a friend at your elbow laughs aloud, and offers you a piece of Bologna +sausage. As in real life, so in his writings,--the serious and the +comic, the sublime and the grotesque, the pathetic and the ludicrous +are mingled together. At times he is sententious, energetic, simple; +then again, obscure and diffuse. His thoughts are like mummies embalmed +in spices, and wrapped about with curious envelopements; but within +these the thoughts themselves are kings. At times glad, beautiful +images, airy forms, move by you, graceful, harmonious;--at times the +glaring, wild-looking fancies, chained together by hyphens, brackets, +and dashes, brave and base, high and low, all in their motley dresses, +go sweeping down the dusty page, like the galley-slaves, that sweep the +streets of Rome, where you may chance to see the nobleman and the +peasant manacled together." + +Flemming smiled at the German's warmth, to which the presence of the +lady, and the Laubenheimer wine, seemed each to have contributed +something, and then said; + +"Better an outlaw, than not free!--These are his own words. And thus he +changes at his will. Like the God Thor, of the old Northern mythology, +he now holds forth the seven bright stars in the bright heaven above +us, and now hides himself in clouds, and pounds away with his great +hammer." + +"And yet this is not affectation in him," rejoined the German. "It is +his nature, it is Jean Paul. And the figures and ornaments of his +style, wild, fantastic, and oft-times startling, like those in Gothic +cathedrals, are not merely what they seem, but massive coignes and +buttresses, which support the fabric. Remove them, and the roofand +walls fall in. And through these gurgoyles, these wild faces, carved +upon spouts and gutters, flow out, like gathered rain, the bright, +abundant thoughts, that have fallen from heaven. + +"And all he does, is done with a kind of serious playfulness. He is a +sea-monster, disporting himself on the broad ocean; his very sport is +earnest; there is something majestic and serious about it. In every +thing there is strength, a rough good-nature, all sunshine overhead, +and underneath the heavy moaning of the sea. Well may he be called +`Jean Paul, the Only-One.' " + +With such discourse the hour of dinner passed; and after dinner +Flemming went to the Cathedral. They were singing vespers. A beadle, +dressed in blue, with a cocked hat, and a crimson sash and collar, was +strutting, like a turkey, along the aisles. This important gentleman +conducted Flemming through the church, and showed him the choir, with +its heavy-sculptured stalls of oak, and the beautiful figures in brown +stone, over the bishops' tombs. He then led him, by a side-door, into +theold and ruined cloisters of St. Willigis. Through the low gothic +arches the sunshine streamed upon the pavement of tombstones, whose +images and inscriptions are mostly effaced by the footsteps of many +generations. There stands the tomb of Frauenlob, the Minnesinger. His +face is sculptured on an entablature in the wall; a fine, +strongly-marked, and serious countenance. Below it is a bas-relief, +representing the poet's funeral. He is carried to his grave by ladies, +whose praise he sang, and thereby won the name of Frauenlob. + +"This then," said Flemming, "is the grave, not of Praise-God +Bare-bones, but of Praise-the-Ladies Meissen, who wrote songs `somewhat +of lust, and somewhat of love.' But where sleeps the dust of his rival +and foe, sweet Master Bartholomew Rainbow?" + +He meant this for an aside; but the turkey-cock picked it up and +answered; + +"I do not know. He did not belong to this parish." + +It was already night, when Flemming crossedthe Roman bridge over the +Nahe, and entered the town of Bingen. He stopped at the White Horse; +and, before going to bed, looked out into the dim starlight from his +window towards the Rhine, and his heart leaped up to behold the bold +outline of the neighbouring hills crested with Gothic ruins;--which in +the morning proved to be only a high, slated roof with fantastic +chimneys. + +The morning was bright and frosty; and the river tinged with gay colors +from the rising sun. A soft, thin vapor floated in the air. In the +sunbeams flashed the hoar-frost, like silver stars; and through a long +avenue of trees, whose dripping branches bent and scattered pearls +before him, Paul Flemming journeyed on in triumph. + +I will not prolong this journey, for I am weary and way-worn, and would +fain be at Heidelberg with my readers, and my hero. It was already +night when he reached the Manheim gate, and drove down the long +Hauptstrasse so slowly, that it seemed to him endless. The shops +werelighted on each side of the street, and he saw faces at the windows +here and there, and figures passing in the lamp-light, visible for a +moment and then swallowed up in the darkness. The thoughts that filled +his mind were strange; as are always the thoughts of a traveller, who +enters for the first time a strange city. This little world had been +going on for centuries before he came; and would go on for centuries +after he was gone. Of all the thousands who inhabited it he knew +nothing; and what knew they, or thought, of the stranger, who, in that +close post-chaise, weary with travel, and chilled by the evening wind, +was slowly rumbling over the paved street! Truly, this world can go on +without us, if we would but think so. If it had been a hearse instead +of a post-chaise, it would have been all the same to the people of +Heidelberg,--though by no means the same to Paul Flemming. + +But at the farther end of the city, near the Castle and the Carls-Thor, +one warm heart was waiting to receive him; and this was the German +heart of his friend, the Baron of Hohenfels, with whom he was to pass +the winter in Heidelberg. No sooner had the carriage stopped at the +irongrated gate, and the postilion blown his horn, to announce the +arrival of a traveller, than the Baron was seen among the servants at +the door; and, a few moments afterwards, the two long-absent friends +were in each other's arms, and Flemming received a kiss upon each +cheek, and another on the mouth, as the pledge and seal of the German's +friendship. They held each other long by the hand, and looked into each +other's faces, and saw themselves in each other's eyes, both literally +and figuratively; literally, inasmuch as the images were there; and +figuratively, inasmuch as each was imagining what the other thought of +him, after the lapse of some years. In friendly hopes and questionings +and answers, the evening glided away at the supper-table, where many +more things were discussed than the roasted hare, and the +Johannisberger; and they sat late into the night, conversing of the +thoughts and feelings and delights, which fill the hearts of young men, +who have already enjoyed and suffered, and hoped and been disappointed. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. HEIDELBERG AND THE BARON. + +High and hoar on the forehead of the Jettenbühl stands the Castle of +Heidelberg. Behind it rise the oak-crested hills of the Geissberg and +the Kaiserstuhl; and in front, from the broad terrace of masonry, you +can almost throw a stone upon the roofs of the city, so close do they +lie beneath. Above this terrace rises the broad front of the chapel of +Saint Udalrich. On the left, stands the slender octagon tower of the +horologe, and, on the right, a huge round tower, battered and shattered +by the mace of war, shores up with its broad shoulders the beautiful +palace and garden-terrace of Elisabeth, wife of the Pfalzgraf +Frederick. In the rear are older palaces and towers, forming a vast, +irregular quadrangle;--Rodolph's ancientcastle, with its Gothic +gloriette and fantastic gables; the Giant's Tower, guarding the +drawbridge over the moat; the Rent Tower, with the linden-trees growing +on its summit, and the magnificent Rittersaal of Otho-Henry, Count +Palatine of the Rhine and grand seneschal of the Holy Roman Empire. +From the gardens behind the castle, you pass under the archway of the +Giant's Tower into the great court-yard. The diverse architecture of +different ages strikes the eye; and curious sculptures. In niches on +the wall of Saint Udalrich's chapel stand rows of knights in armour, +all broken and dismembered; and on the front of Otho's Rittersaal, the +heroes of Jewish history and classic fable. You enter the open and +desolate chambers of the ruin; and on every side are medallions and +family arms; the Globe of the Empire and the Golden Fleece, or the +Eagle of the Cæsars, resting on the escutcheons of Bavaria and the +Palatinate. Over the windows and door-ways and chimney-pieces, are +sculptures and mouldings of exquisite workmanship; and the eyeis +bewildered by the profusion of caryatides, and arabesques, and +rosettes, and fan-like flutings, and garlands of fruits and flowers and +acorns, and bullocks'-heads with draperies of foliage, and muzzles of +lions, holding rings in their teeth. The cunning hand of Art was busy +for six centuries, in raising and adorning these walls; the mailed +hands of Time and War have defaced and overthrown them in less than +two. Next to the Alhambra of Granada, the Castle of Heidelberg is the +most magnificent ruin of the Middle Ages. + +In the valley below flows the rushing stream of the Neckar. Close from +its margin, on the opposite side, rises the Mountain of All Saints, +crowned with the ruins of a convent; and up the valley stretches the +mountain-curtain of the Odenwald. So close and many are the hills, +which eastward shut the valley in, that the river seems a lake. But +westward it opens, upon the broad plain of the Rhine, like the mouth of +a trumpet; and like the blast of a trumpet is at times the wintry wind +through this narrow mountain pass. The blue Alsatian hills rise beyond; +and, on a platform or strip of level land, between the Neckar and the +mountains, right under the castle, stands the city of Heidelberg; as +the old song says, "a pleasant city, when it has done raining." + +Something of this did Paul Flemming behold, when he rose the next +morning and looked from his window. It was a warm, vapory morning, and +a struggle was going on between the mist and the rising sun. The sun +had taken the hill-tops, but the mist still kept possession of the +valley and the town. The steeple of the great church rose through a +dense mass of snow-white clouds; and eastward, on the hills, the dim +vapors were rolling across the windows of the ruined castle, like the +fiery smoke of a great conflagration. It seemed to him an image of the +rising of the sun of Truth on a benighted world; its light streamed +through the ruins of centuries; and, down in the valley of Time, the +cross on the Christian church caught its rays, though the priests were +singing in mist and darkness below. + +In the warm breakfast-parlour he found the Baron, waiting for him. He +was lying upon a sofa, in morning gown and purple-velvet slippers, both +with flowers upon them. He had a guitar in his hand, and a pipe in his +mouth, at the same time smoking, playing, and humming his favorite song +from Goethe; + +"The water rushed, the water swelled, + +A fisher sat thereby." + +Flemming could hardly refrain from laughing at the sight of his friend; +and told him it reminded him of a street-musician he once saw in +Aix-la-Chapelle, who was playing upon six instruments at once; having a +helmet with bells on his head, a Pan's-reed in his cravat, a fiddle in +his hand, a triangle on his knee, cymbals on his heels, and on his back +a bass-drum, which he played with his elbows. To tell the truth, the +Baron of Hohenfels was rather a miscellaneous youth, rather a universal +genius. He pursued all things with eagerness, but for a short time +only; music, poetry, painting, pleasure, even the study of the +Pandects. Hisfeelings were keenly alive to the enjoyment of life. His +great defect was, that he was too much in love with human nature. But +by the power of imagination, in him, the bearded goat was changed to a +bright Capricornus:--no longer an animal on earth, but a constellation +in heaven. An easy and indolent disposition made him gentle and +childlike in his manners; and, in short, the beauty of his character, +like that of the precious opal, was owing to a defect in its +organization. His person was tall and slightly built; his hair light; +and his eyes blue, and as beautiful as those of a girl. In the tones of +his voice, there was something indescribably gentle and winning; and he +spoke the German language, with the soft, musical accent of his native +province of Curland. In his manners, if he had not `Antinous' easy +sway,' he had at least an easy sway of his own. Such, in few words, was +the bosom friend of Flemming. + +"And what do you think of Heidelberg and the old castle up there?" said +he, as they seated themselves at the breakfast-table. + +"Last night the town seemed very long to me," replied Flemming; "and as +to the castle, I have as yet had but a glimpse of it through the mist. +They tell me there is nothing finer in its way, excepting the Alhambra +of Granada; and no doubt I shall find it so. Only I wish the stone were +gray and not red. But, red or gray, I foresee that I shall waste many a +long hour in its desolate halls. Pray, does anybody live up there +now-a-days?" + +"Nobody," answered the Baron, "but the man, who shows the Heidelberg +Ton, and Monsieur Charles de Grainberg, a Frenchman, who has been there +sketching ever since the year eighteen-hundred and ten. He has, +moreover, written a super-magnificent description of the ruin, in which +he says, that during the day only birds of prey disturb it with their +piercing cries, and at night, screech-owls, and other fallow deer. +These are his own words. You must buy his book and his sketches." + +"Yes, the quotation and the tone of your voice will certainly persuade +me so to do." + +"Take his or none, my friend, for you will find no others. And +seriously, his sketches are very good. There is one on the wall there, +which is beautiful, save and except that straddle-bug figure among the +bushes in the corner." + +"But is there no ghost, no haunted chamber in the old castle?" asked +Flemming, after casting a hasty glance at the picture. + +"Oh, certainly," replied the Baron; "there are two. There is the ghost +of the Virgin Mary in Ruprecht's Tower, and the Devil in the Dungeon." + +"Ha! that is grand!" exclaimed Flemming, with evident delight. "Tell me +the whole story, quickly! I am as curious as a child." + +"It is a tale of the times of Louis the Debonnaire," said the Baron, +with a smile; "a mouldy tradition of a credulous age. His brother +Frederick lived here in the castle with him, and had a flirtation with +Leonore von Luzelstein, a lady of the court, whom he afterwards +despised, and was consequently most cordially hated by her. +Frompolitical motives he was equally hateful to certain petty German +tyrants, who, in order to effect his ruin, accused him of heresy. But +his brother Louis would not deliver him up to their fury, and they +resolved to effect by stratagem, what they could not by intrigue. +Accordingly, Leonore von Luzelstein, disguised as the Virgin Mary, and +the father confessor of the Elector, in the costume of Satan, made +their appearance in the Elector's bed-chamber at midnight, and +frightened him so horribly, that he consented to deliver up his brother +into the hands of two Black Knights, who pretended to be ambassadors +from the Vehm-Gericht. They proceeded together to Frederick's chamber; +where luckily old Gemmingen, a brave soldier, kept guard behind the +arras. The monk went foremost in his Satanic garb; but, no sooner had +he set foot in the prince's bed-chamber, than the brave Gemmingen drew +his sword, and said quaintly, `Die, wretch!' and so he died. The rest +took to their heels, and were heard of no more. And now the souls of +Leonore and the monk haunt the scene of their midnight crime. You will +find the story in Grainberg's book, worked up with a kind of +red-morocco and burnt-cork sublimity, and great melo-dramatic clanking +of chains, and hooting of owls, and other fallow deer!" + +"After breakfast," said Flemming, "we will go up to the castle. I must +get acquainted with this mirror of owls, this modern Till Eulenspiegel. +See what a glorious morning we have! It is truly a wondrous winter! +what summer sunshine; what soft Venetian fogs! How the wanton, +treacherous air coquets with the old gray-beard trees! Such weather +makes the grass and our beards grow apace! But we have an old saying in +English, that winter never rots in the sky. So he will come down at +last in his old-fashioned, mealy coat. We shall have snow in spring; +and the blossoms will be all snow-flakes. And afterwards a summer, +which will be no summer, but, as Jean Paul says, only a winter painted +green. Is it not so?" + +"Unless I am much deceived in the climate of Heidelberg," replied the +Baron, "we shall not have to wait long for snow. We have sudden changes +here, and I should not marvel much if it snowed before night." + +"The greater reason for making good use of the morning sunshine, then. +Let us hasten to the castle, after which my heart yearns." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. LIVES OF SCHOLARS. + +The forebodings of the Baron proved true. In the afternoon the weather +changed. The western wind began to blow, and its breath drew a +cloud-veil over the face of heaven, as a breath does over the human +face in a mirror. Soon the snow began to fall. Athwart the distant +landscape it swept like a white mist. The storm-wind came from the +Alsatian hills, and struck the dense clouds aslant through the air. And +ever faster fell the snow, a roaring torrent from those mountainous +clouds. The setting sun glared wildly from the summit of the hills, and +sank like a burning ship at sea, wrecked in the tempest. Thus the +evening set in; and winter stood at the gate wagging his white and +shaggy beard, like an old harper, chanting an old rhyme:--"How cold it +is! how cold it is!" + +"I like such a storm as this," said Flemming, who stood at the window, +looking out into the tempest and the gathering darkness. "The silent +falling of snow is to me one of the most solemn things in nature. The +fall of autumnal leaves does not so much affect me. But the driving +storm is grand. It startles me; it awakens me. It is wild and woful, +like my own soul. I cannot help thinking of the sea; how the waves run +and toss their arms about,--and the wind plays on those great harps, +made by the shrouds and masts of ships. Winter is here in earnest! +Whew! How the old churl whistles and threshes the snow! Sleet and rain +are falling too. Already the trees are bearded with icicles; and the +two broad branches of yonder pine look like the white mustache of some +old German Baron." + +"And to-morrow it will look more wintry still," said his friend. "We +shall wake up and find that the frost-spirit has been at work all night +building Gothic Cathedrals on our windows, just as the devil built the +Cathedral of Cologne. Sodraw the curtains, and come sit here by the +warm fire." + +"And now," said Flemming, having done as his friend desired, "tell me +something of Heidelberg and its University. I suppose we shall lead +about as solitary and studious a life here as we did of yore in little +Göttingen, with nothing to amuse us, save our own day-dreams." + +"Pretty much so," replied the Baron; "which cannot fail to please you, +since you are in pursuit of tranquillity. As to the University, it is, +as you know, one of the oldest in Germany. It was founded in the +fourteenth century by the Count Palatine Ruprecht, and had in the first +year more than five hundred students, all busily committing to memory, +after the old scholastic wise, the rules of grammar versified by +Alexander de Villa Dei, and the extracts made by Peter the Spaniard +from Michel Psellus's Synopsis of Aristotle's Organon, and the +Categories, with Porphory's Commentaries. Truly, I do not much wonder, +that Eregina Scotus should have been put to death byhis scholars with +their penknives. They must have been pushed to the very verge of +despair." + +"What a strange picture a University presents to the imagination. The +lives of scholars in their cloistered stillness;--literary men of +retired habits, and Professors who study sixteen hours a day, and never +see the world but on a Sunday. Nature has, no doubt, for some wise +purpose, placed in their hearts this love of literary labor and +seclusion. Otherwise, who would feed the undying lamp of thought? But +for such men as these, a blast of wind through the chinks and crannies +of this old world, or the flapping of a conqueror's banner, would blow +it out forever. The light of the soul is easily extinguished. And +whenever I reflect upon these things I become aware of the great +importance, in a nation's history, of the individual fame of scholars +and literary men. I fear, that it is far greater than the world is +willing to acknowledge; or, perhaps I should say, than the world has +thought of acknowledging. Blot out from England's history the names of +Chaucer, Shakspere, Spenser, and Milton only, and how much of her glory +would you blot out with them! Take from Italy such names as Dante, +Petrarch, Boccaccio, Michel Angelo, and Raphael, and how much would +still be wanting to the completeness of her glory! How would the +history of Spain look if the leaves were torn out, on which are written +the names of Cervantes, Lope de Vega, and Calderon! What would be the +fame of Portugal, without her Camoens; of France, without her Racine, +and Rabelais, and Voltaire; or Germany, without her Martin Luther, her +Goethe, and Schiller!--Nay, what were the nations of old, without their +philosophers, poets, and historians! Tell me, do not these men in all +ages and in all places, emblazon with bright colors the armorial +bearings of their country? Yes, and far more than this; for in all ages +and all places they give humanity assurance of its greatness; and say; +Call not this time or people wholly barbarous; for thus much, even then +and there, could the human mind achieve! But the boisterous world has +hardlythought of acknowledging all this. Therein it has shown itself +somewhat ungrateful. Else, whence the great reproach, the general +scorn, the loud derision, with which, to take a familiar example, the +monks of the Middle Ages are regarded! That they slept their lives away +is most untrue. For in an age when books were few,--so few, so +precious, that they were often chained to their oaken shelves with iron +chains, like galley-slaves to their benches, these men, with their +laborious hands, copied upon parchment all the lore and wisdom of the +past, and transmitted it to us. Perhaps it is not too much to say, +that, but for these monks, not one line of the classics would have +reached our day. Surely, then, we can pardon something to those +superstitious ages, perhaps even the mysticism of the scholastic +philosophy, since, after all, we can find no harm in it, only the +mistaking of the possible for the real, and the high aspirings of the +human mind after a long-sought and unknown somewhat. I think the name +of Martin Luther, the monk of Wittemberg, alone sufficient to redeem +all monkhoodfrom the reproach of laziness! If this will not, perhaps +the vast folios of Thomas Aquinas will;--or the countless manuscripts, +still treasured in old libraries, whose yellow and wrinkled pages +remind one of the hands that wrote them, and the faces that once bent +over them." + +"An eloquent homily," said the Baron laughing, "a most touching appeal +in behalf of suffering humanity! For my part, I am no friend of this +entire seclusion from the world. It has a very injurious effect on the +mind of a scholar. The Chinese proverb is true; a single conversation +across the table with a wise man, is better than ten years' mere study +of books. I have known some of these literary men, who thus shut +themselves up from the world. Their minds never come in contact with +those of their fellow-men. They read little. They think much. They are +mere dreamers. They know not what is new nor what is old. They often +strike upon trains of thought, which stand written in good authors some +century or so back, and are even current in the mouths of men +aroundthem. But they know it not; and imagine they are bringing forward +something very original, when they publish their thoughts." + +"It reminds me," replied Flemming, "of what Dr. Johnson said of +Goldsmith, when he proposed to travel abroad in order to bring home +improvements;--`He will bring home a wheelbarrow, and call that an +improvement.' It is unfortunately the same with some of these +scholars." + +"And the worst of it is," said the Baron, "that, in solitude, some +fixed idea will often take root in the mind, and grow till it +overshadow all one's thoughts. To this must all opinions come; no +thought can enter there, which shall not be wedded to the fixed idea. +There it remains, and grows. It is like the watchman's wife, in the +tower of Waiblingen, who grew to such a size, that she could not get +down the narrow stair-case; and, when her husband died, his successor +was forced to marry the fat widow in the tower." + +"I remember an old English comedy," said Flemming laughing, "in which a +scholar is described, as a creature, that can strike fire in the +morning at his tinder-box,--put on a pair of lined slippers,--sit +ruminating till dinner, and then go to his meat when the bell +rings;--one that hath a peculiar gift in a cough, and a license to +spit;--or, if you will have him defined by negatives, he is one that +cannot make a good leg;--one that cannot eat a mess of broth cleanly. +What think you of that?" + +"That it is just as people are always represented in English comedy," +said the Baron. "The portrait is over-charged,--caricatured." + +"And yet," continued Flemming, "no longer ago than yesterday, in the +Preface of a work by Dr. Rosenkranz, Professor of Philosophy in the +University of Halle, I read this passage." + +He opened a book and read. + +"Here in Halle, where we have no public garden and no Tivoli, no London +Exchange, no Paris Chamber of Deputies, no Berlin nor Vienna Theatres, +no Strassburg Minster, nor Salzburg Alps,--no Grecian ruins nor +fantastic Catholicism, in fine, nothing, which after one's daily task +is finished, can divert and refresh him, without his knowing or caring +how,--I consider the sight of a proof-sheet quite as delightful as a +walk in the Prater of Vienna. I fill my pipe very quietly, take out my +ink-stand and pens, seat myself in the corner of my sofa, read, +correct, and now for the first time really set about thinking what I +have written. To see this origin of a book, this metamorphosis of +manuscript into print, is a delight to which I give myself up entirely. +Look you, this melancholy pleasure, which would have furnished the +departed Voss with worthy matter for more than one blessed Idyl--(the +more so, as on such occasions, I am generally arrayed in a morning +gown, though I am sorry to say, not a calamanco one, with great +flowers;) this melancholy pleasure was already grown here in Halle to a +sweet, pedantic habit. Since I began my hermit's life here, I have been +printing; and so long as I remain here, I shall keep on printing. In +all probability, I shall die with a proof-sheet in my hand." + +"This," said Flemming, closing the book, "is no caricature by a writer +of comedy, but a portrait by a man's own hand. We can see by it how +easily, under certain circumstances, one may glide into habits of +seclusion, and in a kind of undress, slipshod hardihood, with a pipe +and a proof-sheet, defy the world. Into this state scholars have too +often fallen; thus giving some ground for the prevalent opinion, that +scholarship and rusticity are inseparable. To me, I confess, it is +painful to see the scholar and the world assume so often a hostile +attitude, and set each other at defiance. Surely, it is a +characteristic trait of a great and liberal mind, that it recognises +humanity in all its forms and conditions. I am a student;--and always, +when I sit alone at night, I recognise the divinity of the student, as +she reveals herself to me in the smoke of the midnight lamp. But, +because solitude and books are not unpleasant to me,--nay, +wished-for,--sought after,--shall I say to my brother, Thou fool! Shall +I take the world by the beard and say, Thou art old, and mad!--Shall I +look society in the face and say, Thou art heartless!--Heartless! +Beware of that word! Life, says very wisely the good Jean Paul, Life in +every shape, should be precious to us, for the same reason that the +Turks carefully collect every scrap of paper that comes in their way, +because the name of God may be written upon it. Nothing is more true +than this, yet nothing more neglected!" + +"If it be painful to see this misunderstanding between scholars and the +world," said the Baron, "I think it is still more painful to see the +private sufferings of authors by profession. How many have languished +in poverty, how many died broken-hearted, how many gone mad with +over-excitement and disappointed hopes! How instructive and painfully +interesting are their lives! with so many weaknesses,--so much to +pardon,--so much to pity,--so much to admire! I think he was not so far +out of the way, who said, that, next to the Newgate Calendar, the +Biography of Authors is the most sickening chapter in the history of +man." + +"It is indeed enough to make one's heart ache!" interrupted Flemming. +"Only think of Johnson and Savage, rambling about the streets of London +at midnight, without a place to sleep in; Otway starved to death; +Cowley mad, and howling like a dog, through the aisles of Chichester +Cathedral, at the sound of church music; and Goldsmith, strutting up +Fleet Street in his peach-blossom coat, to knock a bookseller over the +pate with one of his own volumes; and then, in his poverty, about to +marry his landlady in Green Arbour Court." + +"A life of sorrow and privation, a hard life, indeed, do these poor +devil authors have of it," replied the Baron; "and then at last must +get them to the work-house, or creep away into some hospital to die." + +"After all," said Flemming with a sigh, "poverty is not a vice." + +"But something worse," interrupted the Baron; "as Dufresny said, when +he married his laundress, because he could not pay her bill. Hewas the +author, as you know, of the opera of Lot; at whose representation the +great pun was made;--I say the great pun, as we say the great ton of +Heidelberg. As one of the performers was singing the line, `L'amour a +vaincu Loth,' (vingt culottes,) a voice from the pit cried out, `Qu'il +en donne une à l'auteur!' " + +Flemming laughed at the unseasonable jest; and then, after a short +pause, continued; + +"And yet, if you look closely at the causes of these calamities of +authors, you will find, that many of them spring from false and +exaggerated ideas of poetry and the poetic character; and from disdain +of common sense, upon which all character, worth having, is founded. +This comes from keeping aloof from the world, apart from our +fellow-men; disdainful of society, as frivolous. By too much sitting +still the body becomes unhealthy; and soon the mind. This is nature's +law. She will never see her children wronged. If the mind, which rules +the body, ever forgets itself so far as to trample upon its slave, the +slave is never generousenough to forgive the injury; but will rise and +smite its oppressor. Thus has many a monarch mind been dethroned." + +"After all," said the Baron, "we must pardon much to men of genius. A +delicate organization renders them keenly susceptible to pain and +pleasure. And then they idealize every thing; and, in the moonlight of +fancy, even the deformity of vice seems beautiful." + +"And this you think should be forgiven?" + +"At all events it is forgiven. The world loves a spice of wickedness. +Talk as you will about principle, impulse is more attractive, even when +it goes too far. The passions of youth, like unhooded hawks, fly high, +with musical bells upon their jesses; and we forget the cruelty of the +sport in the dauntless bearing of the gallant bird." + +"And thus doth the world and society corrupt the scholar!" exclaimed +Flemming. + +Here the Baron rang, and ordered a bottle of Prince Metternich. He then +very slowly filled his pipe, and began to smoke. Flemming was lost in a +day-dream. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. LITERARY FAME. + +Time has a Doomsday-Book, upon whose pages he is continually recording +illustrious names. But, as often as a new name is written there, an old +one disappears. Only a few stand in illuminated characters, never to be +effaced. These are the high nobility of Nature,--Lords of the Public +Domain of Thought. Posterity shall never question their titles. But +those, whose fame lives only in the indiscreet opinion of unwise men, +must soon be as well forgotten, as if they had never been. To this +great oblivion must most men come. It is better, therefore, that they +should soon make up their minds to this; well knowing, that, as their +bodies must ere long be resolved into dust again, and their graves tell +no tales of them; so musttheir names likewise be utterly forgotten, and +their most cherished thoughts, purposes, and opinions have no longer an +individual being among men; but be resolved and incorporated into the +universe of thought. If, then, the imagination can trace the noble dust +of heroes, till we find it stopping a beer-barrel, and know that + +"Imperial Cæsar, dead and turned to clay, + +May stop a hole to keep the wind away;" + +not less can it trace the noble thoughts of great men, till it finds +them mouldered into the common dust of conversation, and used to stop +men's mouths, and patch up theories, to keep out the flaws of opinion. +Such, for example, are all popular adages and wise proverbs, which are +now resolved into the common mass of thought; their authors forgotten, +and having no more an individual being among men. + +It is better, therefore, that men should soon make up their minds to be +forgotten, and look about them, or within them, for some higher motive, +in what they do, than the approbation of men, which is Fame; namely, +their duty; that they should be constantly and quietly at work, each in +his sphere, regardless of effects, and leaving their fame to take care +of itself. Difficult must this indeed be, in our imperfection; +impossible perhaps to achieve it wholly. Yet the resolute, the +indomitable will of man can achieve much,--at times even this victory +over himself; being persuaded, that fame comes only when deserved, and +then is as inevitable as destiny, for it is destiny. + +It has become a common saying, that men of genius are always in advance +of their age; which is true. There is something equally true, yet not +so common; namely, that, of these men of genius, the best and bravest +are in advance not only of their own age, but of every age. As the +German prose-poet says, every possible future is behind them. We cannot +suppose, that a period of time will ever come, when the world, or any +considerable portion of it shall have come up abreast with these great +minds, so as fully to comprehend them. + +And oh! how majestically they walk in history; some like the sun, with +all his travelling glories round him; others wrapped in gloom, yet +glorious as a night with stars. Through the else silent darkness of the +past, the spirit hears their slow and solemn footsteps. Onward they +pass, like those hoary elders seen in the sublime vision of an earthly +Paradise, attendant angels bearing golden lights before them, and, +above and behind, the whole air painted with seven listed colors, as +from the trail of pencils! + +And yet, on earth, these men were not happy,--not all happy, in the +outward circumstance of their lives. They were in want, and in pain, +and familiar with prison-bars, and the damp, weeping walls of dungeons! +Oh, I have looked with wonder upon those, who, in sorrow and privation, +and bodily discomfort, and sickness, which is the shadow of death, have +worked right on to the accomplishment of their great purposes; toiling +much, enduring much, fulfilling much;--and then, with shattered nerves, +and sinews all unstrung, have laid themselves down in the grave, and +slept the sleep of death,--and the world talks of them, while they +sleep! + +It would seem, indeed, as if all their sufferings had but sanctified +them! As if the death-angel, in passing, had touched them with the hem +of his garment, and made them holy! As if the hand of disease had been +stretched out over them only to make the sign of the cross upon their +souls! And as in the sun's eclipse we can behold the great stars +shining in the heavens, so in this life eclipse have these men beheld +the lights of the great eternity, burning solemnly and forever! + +This was Flemming's reverie. It was broken by the voice of the Baron, +suddenly exclaiming; + +"An angel is flying over the house!--Here; in this goblet, fragrant as +the honey of Hymettus, fragrant as the wild flowers in the Angel's +Meadow, I drink to the divinity of thy dreams." + +"This is all sunshine," said Flemming, as he drank. "The wine of the +Prince, and the Prince of wines. By the way, did you ever read that +brilliant Italian dithyrambic, Redi's Bacchus in Tuscany? an ode which +seems to have been poured out of the author's soul, as from a golden +pitcher, + +`Filled with the wine + +Of the vine + +Benign, + +That flames so red in Sansavine.' + +He calls the Montepulciano the king of all wines." + +"Prince Metternich," said the Baron, "is greater than any king in +Italy; and I wonder, that this precious wine has never inspired a +German poet to write a Bacchus on the Rhine. Many little songs we have +on this theme, but none very extraordinary. The best are Max +Schenkendorf's Song of the Rhine, and the Song of Rhine Wine, by +Claudius, a poet who never drank Rhenish without sugar. We will drink +for him a blessing on the Rhine." + +And again the crystal lips of the goblets kissed each other, with a +musical chime, as of evening bells at vintage-time from the villages on +the Rhine. Of a truth, I do not much wonder, that the Germanpoet +Schiller loved to write by candle-light with a bottle of Rhine-wine +upon the table. Nor do I wonder at the worthy schoolmaster Roger +Ascham, when he says, in one of his letters from Germany to Mr. John +Raven, of John's College; `Tell Mr. Maden I will drink with him now a +carouse of wine; and would to God he had a vessel of Rhenish wine; and +perchance, when I come to Cambridge, I will so provide here, that every +year I will have a little piece of Rhenish wine.' Nor, in fine, do I +wonder at the German Emperor of whom he speaks in another letter to the +same John Raven, and says, `The Emperor drank the best that I ever saw; +he had his head in the glass five times as long as any of us, and never +drank less than a good quart at once of Rhenish wine.' These were +scholars and gentlemen. + +"But to resume our old theme of scholars and their whereabout," said +the Baron, with an unusual glow, caught no doubt from the golden +sunshine, imprisoned, like the student Anselmus, in the glass bottle; +"where should the scholar live? In solitudeor in society? In the green +stillness of the country, where he can hear the heart of nature beat, +or in the dark, gray city, where he can hear and feel the throbbing +heart of man? I will make answer for him, and say, in the dark, gray +city. Oh, they do greatly err, who think, that the stars are all the +poetry which cities have; and therefore that the poet's only dwelling +should be in sylvan solitudes, under the green roof of trees. +Beautiful, no doubt, are all the forms of Nature, when transfigured by +the miraculous power of poetry; hamlets and harvest-fields, and +nut-brown waters, flowing ever under the forest, vast and shadowy, with +all the sights and sounds of rural life. But after all, what are these +but the decorations and painted scenery in the great theatre of human +life? What are they but the coarse materials of the poet's song? +Glorious indeed is the world of God around us, but more glorious the +world of God within us. There lies the Land of Song; there lies the +poet's native land. The river of life, that flows through streets +tumultuous, bearingalong so many gallant hearts, so many wrecks of +humanity;--the many homes and households, each a little world in +itself, revolving round its fireside, as a central sun; all forms of +human joy and suffering, brought into that narrow compass;--and to be +in this and be a part of this; acting, thinking, rejoicing, sorrowing, +with his fellow-men;--such, such should be the poet's life. If he would +describe the world, he should live in the world. The mind of the +scholar, also, if you would have it large and liberal, should come in +contact with other minds. It is better that his armour should be +somewhat bruised even by rude encounters, than hang forever rusting on +the wall. Nor will his themes be few or trivial, because apparently +shut in between the walls of houses, and having merely the decorations +of street scenery. A ruined character is as picturesque as a ruined +castle. There are dark abysses and yawning gulfs in the human heart, +which can be rendered passable only by bridging them over with iron +nerves and sinews, as Challey bridged the Savine in Switzerland, and +Telford the sea between Anglesea and England, with chain bridges. These +are the great themes of human thought; not green grass, and flowers, +and moonshine. Besides, the mere external forms of Nature we make our +own, and carry with us into the city, by the power of memory." + +"I fear, however," interrupted Flemming, "that in cities the soul of +man grows proud. He needs at times to be sent forth, like the Assyrian +monarch, into green fields, `a wonderous wretch and weedless,' to eat +green herbs, and be wakened and chastised by the rain-shower and +winter's bitter weather. Moreover, in cities there is danger of the +soul's becoming wed to pleasure, and forgetful of its high vocation. +There have been souls dedicated to heaven from childhood and guarded by +good angels as sweet seclusions for holy thoughts, and prayers, and all +good purposes; wherein pious wishes dwelt like nuns, and every image +was a saint; and yet in life's vicissitudes, by the treachery of +occasion, by the thronging passionsof great cities, have become soiled +and sinful. They resemble those convents on the river Rhine, which have +been changed to taverns; from whose chambers the pious inmates have +long departed, and in whose cloisters the footsteps of travellers have +effaced the images of buried saints, and whose walls are written over +with ribaldry and the names of strangers, and resound no more with holy +hymns, but with revelry and loud voices." + +"Both town and country have their dangers," said the Baron; "and +therefore, wherever the scholar lives, he must never forget his high +vocation. Other artists give themselves up wholly to the study of their +art. It becomes with them almost religion. For the most part, and in +their youth, at least, they dwell in lands, where the whole atmosphere +of the soul is beauty; laden with it as the air may be with vapor, till +their very nature is saturated with the genius of their art. Such, for +example, is the artist's life in Italy." + +"I agree with you," exclaimed Flemming; "and such should be the Poet's +everywhere; forhe has his Rome, his Florence, his whole glowing Italy +within the four walls of his library. He has in his books the ruins of +an antique world,--and the glories of a modern one,--his Apollo and +Transfiguration. He must neither forget nor undervalue his vocation; +but thank God that he is a poet; and everywhere be true to himself, and +to `the vision and the faculty divine' he feels within him." + +"But, at any rate, a city life is most eventful," continued the Baron. +"The men who make, or take, the lives of poets and scholars, always +complain that these lives are barren of incidents. Hardly a literary +biography begins without some such apology, unwisely made. I confess, +however, that it is not made without some show of truth; if, by +incidents, we mean only those startling events, which suddenly turn +aside the stream of Time, and change the world's history in an hour. +There is certainly a uniformity, pleasing or unpleasing, in literary +life, which for the most part makes to-day seem twin-born with +yesterday. But if, byincidents, you mean events in the history of the +human mind, (and why not?) noiseless events, that do not scar the +forehead of the world as battles do, yet change it not the less, then +surely the lives of literary men are most eventful. The complaint and +the apology are both foolish. I do not see why a successful book is not +as great an event as a successful campaign; only different in kind, and +not easily compared." + +"Indeed," interrupted Flemming, "in no sense is the complaint strictly +true, though at times apparently so. Events enough there are, were they +all set down. A life, that is worth writing at all, is worth writing +minutely. Besides, all literary men have not lived in silence and +solitude;--not all in stillness, not all in shadow. For many have lived +in troubled times, in the rude and adverse fortunes of the state and +age, and could say with Wallenstein, + +`Our life was but a battle and a march; + +And, like the wind's blast, never-resting, homeless, + +We stormed across the war convulsed earth.' + +Of such examples history has recorded many; Dante, Cervantes, Byron, +and others; men of iron; men who have dared to breast the strong breath +of public opinion, and, like spectre-ships, come sailing right against +the wind. Others have been puffed out by the first adverse wind that +blew; disgraced and sorrowful, because they could not please others. +Truly `the tears live in an onion, that should water such a sorrow.' +Had they been men, they would have made these disappointments their +best friends, and learned from them the needful lesson of +self-reliance." + +"To confess the truth," added the Baron, "the lives of literary men, +with their hopes and disappointments, and quarrels and calamities, +present a melancholy picture of man's strength and weakness. On that +very account the scholar can make them profitable for +encouragement,--consolation,--warning." + +"And after all," continued Flemming, "perhaps the greatest lesson, +which the lives of literary men teach us, is told in a single word; +Wait!--Every man must patiently bide his time. He must wait. More +particularly in lands, like my native land, where the pulse of life +beats with such feverish and impatient throbs, is the lesson needful. +Our national character wants the dignity of repose. We seem to live in +the midst of a battle,--there is such a din,--such a hurrying to and +fro. In the streets of a crowded city it is difficult to walk slowly. +You feel the rushing of the crowd, and rush with it onward. In the +press of our life it is difficult to be calm. In this stress of wind +and tide, all professions seem to drag their anchors, and are swept out +into the main. The voices of the Present say, Come! But the voices of +the Past say, Wait! With calm and solemn footsteps the rising tide +bears against the rushing torrent up stream, and pushes back the +hurrying waters. With no less calm and solemn footsteps, nor less +certainly, does a great mind bear up against public opinion, and push +back its hurrying stream. Therefore should every man wait;--should bide +his time. Not in listless idleness,--not in uselesspastime,--not in +querulous dejection; but in constant, steady, cheerful endeavours, +always willing and fulfilling, and accomplishing his task, that, when +the occasion comes, he may be equal to the occasion. And if it never +comes, what matters it? What matters it to the world whether I, or you, +or another man did such a deed, or wrote such a book, sobeit the deed +and book were well done! It is the part of an indiscreet and +troublesome ambition, to care too much about fame,--about what the +world says of us. To be always looking into the faces of others for +approval;--to be always anxious for the effect of what we do and say; +to be always shouting to hear the echo of our own voices! If you look +about you, you will see men, who are wearing life away in feverish +anxiety of fame, and the last we shall ever hear of them will be the +funeral bell, that tolls them to their early graves! Unhappy men, and +unsuccessful! because their purpose is, not to accomplish well their +task, but to clutch the `trick and fantasy of fame'; and they go to +their graveswith purposes unaccomplished and wishes unfulfilled. Better +for them, and for the world in their example, had they known how to +wait! Believe me, the talent of success is nothing more than doing what +you can do well; and doing well whatever you do,--without a thought of +fame. If it come at all, it will come because it is deserved, not +because it is sought after. And, moreover, there will be no +misgivings,--no disappointment,--no hasty, feverish, exhausting +excitement." + +Thus endeth the First Book of Hyperion. I make no record of the winter. +Paul Flemming buried himself in books; in old, dusty books. He studied +diligently the ancient poetic lore of Germany, from Frankish Legends of +Saint George, and Saxon Rhyme-Chronicles, down through Nibelungen +Lieds, and Helden-Buchs, and Songs of the Minnesingers and +Mastersingers, and Ships of Fools, and Reinecke Foxes, and +Death-Dancesand Lamentations of Damned Souls, into the bright, sunny +land of harvests, where, amid the golden grain and the blue +corn-flowers, walk the modern bards, and sing. + + + + +BOOK II. + + + + +Epigraph + +"Something the heart must have to cherish, + +Must love, and joy, and sorrow learn; + +Something with passion clasp, or perish, + +And in itself to ashes burn." + + + + +CHAPTER I. SPRING. + +It was a sweet carol, which the Rhodian children sang of old in Spring, +bearing in their hands, from door to door, a swallow, as herald of the +season; + +"The Swallow is come! + +The Swallow is come! + +O fair are the seasons, and light + +Are the days that she brings, + +With her dusky wings, + +And her bosom snowy white." + +A pretty carol, too, is that, which the Hungarian boys, on the islands +of the Danube, sing to the returning stork in Spring; + +"Stork! Stork! poor Stork! + +Why is thy foot so bloody? + +A Turkish boy hath torn it; + +Hungarian boy will heal it, + +With fiddle, fife, and drum." + +But what child has a heart to sing in this capricious clime of ours, +where Spring comes sailing in from the sea, with wet and heavy +cloud-sails, and the misty pennon of the East-wind nailed to the mast! +Yet even here, and in the stormy month of March even, there are bright, +warm mornings, when we open our windows to inhale the balmy air. The +pigeons fly to and fro, and we hear the whirring sound of wings. Old +flies crawl out of the cracks, to sun themselves; and think it is +summer. They die in their conceit; and so do our hearts within us, when +the cold sea-breath comes from the eastern sea; and again, + +"The driving hail + +Upon the window beats with icy flail." + +The red-flowering maple is first in blossom, its beautiful purple +flowers unfolding a fortnight before the leaves. The moose-wood +follows, with rose-colored buds and leaves; and the dog-wood, robed in +the white of its own pure blossoms. Thencomes the sudden rain-storm; +and the birds fly to and fro, and shriek. Where do they hide themselves +in such storms? at what firesides dry their feathery cloaks? At the +fireside of the great, hospitable sun, to-morrow, not before;--they +must sit in wet garments until then. + +In all climates Spring is beautiful. In the South it is intoxicating, +and sets a poet beside himself. The birds begin to sing;--they utter a +few rapturous notes, and then wait for an answer in the silent woods. +Those green-coated musicians, the frogs, make holiday in the +neighbouring marshes. They, too, belong to the orchestra of Nature; +whose vast theatre is again opened, though the doors have been so long +bolted with icicles, and the scenery hung with snow and frost, like +cobwebs. This is the prelude, which announces the rising of the broad +green curtain. Already the grass shoots forth. The waters leap with +thrilling pulse through the veins of the earth; the sap through the +veins of the plants and trees; and the blood through the veins of man. +What a thrill of delight in spring-time! What a joy in being and +moving! Men are at work in gardens; and in the air there is an odor of +the fresh earth. The leaf-buds begin to swell and blush. The white +blossoms of the cherry hang upon the boughs like snow-flakes; and ere +long our next-door neighbours will be completely hidden from us by the +dense green foliage. The May-flowers open their soft blue eyes. +Children are let loose in the fields and gardens. They hold butter-cups +under each others' chins, to see if they love butter. And the little +girls adorn themselves with chains and curls of dandelions; pull out +the yellow leaves to see if the schoolboy loves them, and blow the down +from the leafless stalk, to find out if their mothers want them at +home. + +And at night so cloudless and so still! Not a voice of living +thing,--not a whisper of leaf or waving bough,--not a breath of +wind,--not a sound upon the earth nor in the air! And overhead bends +the blue sky, dewy and soft, and radiant with innumerable stars, like +the inverted bellof some blue flower, sprinkled with golden dust, and +breathing fragrance. Or if the heavens are overcast, it is no wild +storm of wind and rain; but clouds that melt and fall in showers. One +does not wish to sleep; but lies awake to hear the pleasant sound of +the dropping rain. + +It was thus the Spring began in Heidelberg. + + + + +CHAPTER II. A COLLOQUY. + +"And what think you of Tiedge's Urania," said the Baron smiling, as +Paul Flemming closed the book, and laid it upon the table. + +"I think," said Flemming, "that it is very much like Jean Paul's +grandfather,--in the highest degree poor and pious." + +"Bravo!" exclaimed the Baron. "That is the best criticism I have heard +upon the book. For my part, I dislike the thing as much as Goethe did. +It was once very popular, and lay about in every parlour and bed-room. +This annoyed the old gentleman exceedingly; and I do not wonder at it. +He complains, that at one time nothing was sung or said but this +Urania. He believed in Immortality; but wished to cherish his belief +inquietness. He once told a friend of his, that he had, however, +learned one thing from all this talk about Tiedge and his Urania; which +was, that the saints, as well as the nobility, constitute an +aristocracy. He said he found stupid women, who were proud because they +believed in Immortality with Tiedge, and had to submit himself to not a +few mysterious catechizings and tea-table lectures on this point; and +that he cut them short by saying, that he had no objection whatever to +enter into another state of existence hereafter, but prayed only that +he might be spared the honor of meeting any of those there, who had +believed in it here; for, if he did, the saints would flock around him +on all sides, exclaiming, Were we not in the right? Did we not tell you +so? Has it not all turned out just as we said? And, with such a +conceited clatter in his ears, he thought that, before the end of six +months, he might die of ennui in Heaven itself." + +"How shocked the good old ladies must have been," said Flemming. + +"No doubt, their nerves suffered a little; but the young ladies loved +him all the better for being witty and wicked; and thought if they +could only marry him, how they would reform him." + +"Bettina Brentano, for instance." + +"O no! That happened long afterwards. Goethe was then a silver-haired +old man of sixty. She had never seen him, and knew him only by his +writings; a romantic girl of seventeen." + +"And yet much in love with the Sexagenarian. And surely a more wild, +fantastic, and, excuse me, German passion never sprang up in woman's +breast. She was a flower, that worshipped the sun." + +"She afterwards married Achim von Arnim, and is now a widow. And not +the least singular part of the affair, is, that, having grown older, +and I hope colder, she should herself publish the letters which passed +between her and Goethe." + +"Particularly the letter in which she describes her first visit to +Weimar, and her interview with the hitherto invisible divinity of her +dreams. The old gentleman took her upon his knees, and she fell asleep +with her head upon his shoulder. It reminds me of Titania and Nick +Bottom, begging your pardon, always, for comparing your All-sided-One +to Nick Bottom. Oberon must have touched her eyes with the juice of +Love-in-idleness. However, this book of Goethe's Correspondence with a +Child is a very singular and valuable revelation of the feelings, which +he excited in female hearts. You say she afterwards married Achim von +Arnim?" + +"Yes; and he and her brother, Clemens Brentano, published that wondrous +book, the Boy's Wonder-Horn." + +"The Boy's Wonder-Horn!" said Flemming, after a short pause, for the +name seemed to have thrown him into a reverie;--"I know the book almost +by heart. Of all your German books it is the one which produces upon my +imagination the most wild and magic influence. I have a passion for +ballads!" + +"And who has not?" said the Baron with asmile. "They are the +gypsy-children of song, born under green hedgerows, in the leafy lanes +and by-paths of literature,--in the genial summer-time." + +"Why do you say summer-time and not summer?" inquired Flemming. "The +expression reminds me of your old Minnesingers;--of Heinrich von +Ofterdingen, and Walter von der Vogelweide, and Count Kraft von +Toggenburg, and your own ancestor, I dare say, Burkhart von Hohenfels. +They were always singing of the gentle summer-time. They seem to have +lived poetry, as well as sung it; like the birds who make their +marriage beds in the voluptuous trees." + +"Is that from Shakspere?" + +"No; from Lope de Vega." + +"You are deeply read in the lore of antiquity, and the Aubades and +Watch-Songs of the old Minnesingers. What do you think of the +shoe-maker poets that came after them,--with their guilds and +singing-schools? It makes me laugh to think how the great German +Helicon, shrunk toa rivulet, goes bubbling and gurgling over the pebbly +names of Zwinger, Wurgendrussel, Buchenlin, Hellfire, Old Stoll, Young +Stoll, Strong Bopp, Dang Brotscheim, Batt Spiegel, Peter Pfort, and +Martin Gumpel. And then the Corporation of the Twelve Wise Masters, +with their stumpfereime and klingende-reime, and their Hans Tindeisen's +rosemary-weise; and Joseph Schmierer's flowery-paradise-weise, and +Frauenlob's yellow-weise, and blue-weise, and frog-weise, and +looking-glass-weise!" + +"O, I entreat you," exclaimed Flemming, laughing, "do not call those +men poets! You transport me to quaint old Nuremberg, and I see Hans +Sachs making shoes, and Hans Folz shaving the burgomaster." + +"By the way," interrupted the Baron, "did you ever read Hoffmann's +beautiful story of Master Martin, the Cooper of Nuremberg? I will read +it to you this very night. It is the most delightful picture of that +age, which you can conceive. But look! the sun has already set +behindthe Alsatian hills. Let us go up to the castle and look for the +ghost in Prince Ruprecht's tower. O, what a glorious sunset!" + +Flemming looked at the evening sky, and a shade of sadness stole over +his countenance. He told not to his friend the sorrow, with which his +heart was heavy; but kept it for himself alone. He knew that the time, +which comes to all men,--the time to suffer and be silent,--had come to +him likewise; and he spake no word. O well has it been said, that there +is no grief like the grief which does not speak. + + + + +CHAPTER III. OWL-TOWERS. + +"There sits the old Frau Himmelhahn, perched up in her owl-tower," said +the Baron to Flemming, as they passed along the Hauptstrasse. "She +looks down through her round-eyed spectacles from her nest up there, +and watches every one that goes by. I wonder what mischief she is +hatching now? Do you know she has nearly ruined your character in town? +She says you have a rakish look, because you carry a cane, and your +hair curls. Your gloves, also, are a shade too light for a strictly +virtuous man." + +"It is very kind in her to take such good care of my character, +particularly as I am a stranger in town. She is doubtless learned in +the Clothes-Philosophy." + +"And ignorant of every thing else. She asked a friend of mine the other +day, whether Christ was a Catholic or a Protestant." + +"That is really too absurd!" + +"Not too absurd to be true. And, ignorant as she is, she contrives to +do a good deal of mischief in the course of the year. Why, the ladies +already call you Wilhelm Meister." + +"They are at liberty to call me what they please. But you, who know me +better, know that I am something more than they would imply by the +name." + +"She says, moreover, that the American ladies sit with their feet out +of the window, and have no pocket-handkerchiefs." + +"Excellent!" + +They crossed the market-place and went up beneath the grand terrace +into the court-yard of the castle. + +"Let us go up and sit under the great linden-trees, that grow on the +summit of the Rent Tower," said Flemming. "From that point as from +awatch-tower we can look down into the garden, and see the crowd below +us." + +"And amuse ourselves, as old Frau Himmelhahn does, at her window in the +Hauptstrasse," added the Baron. + +The keeper's daughter unlocked for them the door of the tower, and, +climbing the steep stair-case, they seated themselves on a wooden bench +under the linden-trees. + +"How beautifully these trees overgrow the old tower! And see what a +solid mass of masonry lies in the great fosse down there, toppled from +its base by the explosion of a mine! It is like a rusty helmet cleft in +twain, but still crested with towering plumes!" + +"And what a motley crowd in the garden! Philisters and Sons of the +Muses! And there goes the venerable Thibaut, taking his evening stroll. +Do you see him there, with his silver hair flowing over his shoulders, +and that friendly face, which has for so many years pored over the +Pandects. I assure you, he inspires me with awe. And yet he is a merry +old man, and loves his joke, particularly at the expense of Moses and +other ancient lawgivers." + +Here their attention was diverted by a wild-looking person, who passed +with long strides under the archway in the fosse, right beneath them, +and disappeared among the bushes. He was ill-dressed,--his hair flying +in the wind,--his movements hurried and nervous, and the expression of +his broad countenance wild, strange, and earnest. + +"Who can that be!" asked Flemming. "He strides away indignantly, like +one of Ossian's ghosts?" + +"A great philosopher, whose name I have forgotten. Truly a strange +owl!" + +"He looks like a lion with a hat on." + +"He is a mystic, who reads Schubert's History of the Soul, and lives, +for the most part, in the clouds of the Middle Ages. To him the +spirit-world is still open. He believes in the transmigration of souls; +and I dare say is now followingthe spirit of some departed friend, who +has taken the form of yonder pigeon." + +"What a strange hallucination! He lives, I suppose, in the land of +cloud-shadows. And, as St. Thomas Aquinas was said to be lifted up from +the ground by the fervor of his prayers, so, no doubt, is he by the +fervor of his visions." + +"He certainly appears to neglect all sublunary things; and, to judge +from certain appearances, since you seem fond of holy similitudes, one +would say, that, like St. Serapion the Sindonite, he had but one shirt. +Yet what cares he? he lives in that poetic dream-land of his thoughts, +and clothes his dream-children in poetry." + +"He is a poet, then, as well as a philosopher?" + +"Yes; but a poet who never writes a line. There is nothing in nature to +which his imagination does not give a poetic hue. But the power to make +others see these objects in the same poetic light, is wanting. Still he +is a man of fine powers and feelings; for, next to being a greatpoet, +is the power of understanding one,--of finding one's-self in him, as we +Germans say." + +Three figures, dressed in black, now came from one of the green alleys, +and stopped on the brink of a little fountain, that was playing among +the gay flowers in the garden. The eldest of the three was a lady in +that season of life, when the early autumn gives to the summer leaves a +warmer glow, yet fades them not. Though the mother of many children, +she was still beautiful;--resembling those trees, which blossom in +October, when the leaves are changing, and whose fruit and blossom are +on the branch at once. At her side was a girl of some sixteen years, +who seemed to lean upon her arm for support. Her figure was slight; her +countenance beautiful, though deadly white; and her meek eyes like the +flower of the night-shade, pale and blue, but sending forth golden +rays. They were attended by a tall youth of foreign aspect, who seemed +a young Antinous, with a mustache and a nose à la Kosciusko. In other +respects a perfect hero of romance. + +"Unless mine eyes deceive me," said the Baron, "there is the Frau von +Ilmenau, with her pale daughter Emma, and that eternal Polish Count. He +is always hovering about them, playing the unhappy exile, merely to +excite that poor girl's sympathies; and as wretched as genius and +wantonness can make him." + +"Why, he is already married, you know," replied Flemming. "And his wife +is young and beautiful." + +"That does not prevent him from being in love with some one else. That +question was decided in the Courts of Love in the Middle Ages. +Accordingly he has sent his fair wife to Warsaw. But how pale the poor +child looks." + +"She has just recovered from severe illness. In the winter, you know, +it was thought she would not live from hour to hour." + +"And she has hardly recovered from that disease, before she seems +threatened with a worse one; namely, a hopeless passion. However, +people do not die of love now-a-days." + +"Seldom, perhaps," said Flemming. "And yet it is folly to pretend that +one ever wholly recovers from a disappointed passion. Such wounds +always leave a scar. There are faces I can never look upon without +emotion. There are names I can never hear spoken without almost +starting!" + +"But whom have we here?" + +"That is the French poet Quinet, with his sweet German wife; one of the +most interesting women I ever knew. He is the author of a very wild +Mystery, or dramatic prose-poem, in which the Ocean, Mont-Blanc, and +the Cathedral of Strassburg have parts to play; and the saints on the +stained windows of the minster speak, and the statues and dead kings +enact the Dance of Death. It is entitled Ahasuerus, or the Wandering +Jew." + +"Or, as the Danes would translate it, the Shoemaker of Jerusalem. That +would be a still more fantastic title for his fantastic book. You know +I am no great admirer of the modern French school of writers. The tales +of Paul de Kock, who is, I believe, the most popular of all, seem to me +like obscene stories told at dinner-tables, after the ladies have +retired. It has been well said of him, that he is not only populaire +but populacier; and equally well said of George Sand and Victor Hugo, +that their works stand like fortifications, well built and well +supplied with warlike munitions; but ineffectual against the Grand Army +of God, which marches onward, as if nothing had happened. In surveying +a national literature, the point you must start from, is national +character. That lets you into many a secret; as, for example, Paul de +Kock's popularity. The most prominent trait in the French character, is +love of amusement, and excitement; and--" + +"I should say, rather, the fear of ennui," interrupted Flemming. "One +of their own writers has said with a great deal of truth, that the +gentry of France rush into Paris to escape from ennui, as, in the noble +days of chivalry, the defenceless inhabitants of the champaign fled +into the castles, at theapproach of some plundering knight, or lawless +Baron; forsaking the inspired twilight of their native groves, for the +luxurious shades of the royal gardens. What do you think of that?" + +The Baron replied with a smile; + +"There is only one Paris; and out of Paris there is no salvation for +decent people." + +Thus conversing of many things, sat the two friends under the +linden-trees on the Rent Tower, till gradually the crowd disappeared +from the garden, and the objects around them grew indistinct, in the +fading twilight. Between them and the amber-colored western sky, the +dense foliage of the trees looked heavy and hard, as if cast in bronze; +and already the evening stars hung like silver lamps in the towering +branches of that Tree of Life, brought more than two centuries ago from +its primeval Paradise in America, to beautify the gardens of the +Palatinate. + +"I take a mournful pleasure in gazing at that tree," said Flemming, as +they rose to depart. "It stands there so straight and tall, with iron +bandsaround its noble trunk and limbs, in silent majesty, or whispering +only in its native tongue, and freighting the homeward wind with sighs! +It reminds me of some captive monarch of a savage tribe, brought over +the vast ocean for a show, and chained in the public market-place of +the city, disdainfully silent, or breathing only in melancholy accents +a prayer for his native forest, a longing to be free." + +"Magnificent!" cried the Baron. "I always experience something of the +same feeling when I walk through a conservatory. The luxuriant plants +of the tropics,--those illustrious exotics, with their gorgeous, +flamingo-colored blossoms, and great, flapping leaves, like elephant's +ears,--have a singular working upon my imagination; and remind me of a +menagerie and wild-beasts kept in cages. But your illustration is +finer;--indeed, a grand figure. Put it down for an epic poem." + + + + +CHAPTER IV. A BEER-SCANDAL. + +On their way homeward, Flemming and the Baron passed through a narrow +lane, in which was a well-known Studenten-Kneipe. At the door stood a +young man, whom the Baron at once recognised as his friend Von Kleist. +He was a student; and universally acknowledged, among his young +acquaintance, as a "devilish handsome fellow"; notwithstanding a +tremendous scar on his cheek, and a cream-colored mustache, as soft as +the silk of Indian corn. In short he was a renowner, and a duellist. + +"What are you doing here, Von Kleist?" + +"Ah, my dear Baron! Is it you? Come in; come in. You shall see some +sport. A Fox-Commerce is on foot, and a regular Beer-Scandal." + +"Shall we go in, Flemming?" + +"Certainly. I should like to see how these things are managed in +Heidelberg. You are a Baron, and I am a stranger. It is of no +consequence what you and I do, as the king's fool Angeli said to the +poet Bautru, urging him to put on his hat at the royal dinner-table." + +William Lilly, the Astrologer, says, in his Autobiography, that, when +he was committed to the guard-room in White Hall, he thought himself in +hell; for "some were sleeping, others swearing, others smoking tobacco; +and in the chimney of the room there were two bushels of broken +tobacco-pipes, and almost half a load of ashes." What he would have +thought if he had peeped into this Heidelberg Studenten-Kneipe, I know +not. He certainly would not have thought himself in heaven; unless it +were a Scandinavian heaven. The windows were open; and yet so dense was +the atmosphere with the smoke of tobacco, and the fumes of beer, that +the tallow candles burnt but dimly. A crowd of students were sitting at +three long tables, in the large hall; a medley of fellows, known at +German Universities under the cant names of Old-Ones, Mossy-Heads, +Princes of Twilight, and Pomatum-Stallions. They were smoking, +drinking, singing, screaming, and discussing the great Laws of the +Broad-Stone and the Gutter. They had a great deal to say, likewise, +about Besens, and Zobels, and Poussades; and, if they had been charged +for the noise they made, as travellers used to be, in the old Dutch +taverns, they would have had a longer bill to pay for that, than for +their beer. + +In a large arm-chair, upon the middle table, sat one of those +distinguished individuals, known among German students as a Senior, or +Leader of a Landsmannschaft. He was booted and spurred, and wore a very +small crimson cap, and a very tight blue jacket, and very long hair, +and a very dirty shirt. He was President of the night; and, as Flemming +entered the hall with the Baron and his friend, striking upon the table +with a mighty broadsword, he cried in a loud voice; + +"Silentium!" + +At the same moment a door at the end of the hall was thrown open, and a +procession of newcomers, or Nasty-Foxes, as they are called in the +college dialect, entered two by two, looking wild, and green, and +foolish. As they came forward, they were obliged to pass under a pair +of naked swords, held cross-wise by two Old-Ones, who, with pieces of +burnt cork, made an enormous pair of mustaches, on the smooth, rosy +cheeks of each, as he passed beneath this arch of triumph. While the +procession was entering the hall, the President lifted up his voice +again, and began to sing the well-known Fox-song, in the chorus of +which all present joined lustily. + +What comes there from the hill? + +What comes there from the hill? + +What comes there from the leathery hill? + +Ha! Ha! + +Leathery hill! + +What comes there from the hill? + +It is a postilion! + +It is a postilion! + +It is a leathery postilion! + +Ha! Ha! + +Postilion! + +It is a postilion! + +What brings the postilion? + +What brings the postilion? + +What brings the leathery postilion? + +Ha! Ha! + +Postilion! + +What brings the postilion? + +He bringeth us a Fox! + +He bringeth us a Fox! + +He bringeth us a leathery Fox! + +Ha! Ha! + +Leathery Fox! + +He bringeth us a Fox! + +Your servant, Masters mine! + +Your servant, Masters mine! + +Your servant, much-honored Masters mine! + +Ha! Ha! + +Much-honored Masters mine! + +Your servant, Masters mine! + +How does the Herr Papa? + +How does the Herr Papa? + +How does the leathery Herr Papa? + +Ha! Ha! + +Herr Papa! + +How does the Herr Papa? + +He reads in Cicero! + +He reads in Cicero! + +He reads in leathery Cicero! + +Ha! Ha! + +Cicero! + +He reads in Cicero! + +How does the Frau Mama? + +How does the Frau Mama? + +How does the leathery Frau Mama? + +Ha! Ha! + +Frau Mama! + +How does the Frau Mama? + +She makes the Papa tea! + +She makes the Papa tea! + +She makes the Papa leathery tea! + +Ha! Ha! + +Leathery tea! + +She makes the Papa tea! + +How does the Mamsell Sœur? + +How does the Mamsell Sœur? + +How does the leathery Mamsell Sœur? + +Ha! Ha! + +Mamsell Sœur! + +How does the Mamsell Sœur? + +She knits the Papa stockings! + +She knits the Papa stockings! + +She knits the Papa leathery stockings! + +Ha! Ha! + +Leathery stockings! + +She knits the Papa stockings! + +How does the Herr Rector? + +How does the Herr Rector? + +How does the leathery Herr Rector? + +Ha! Ha! + +Herr Rector! + +How does the Herr Rector? + +He calls the scholar, Boy! + +He calls the scholar, Boy! + +He calls the scholar, leathery Boy! + +Ha! Ha! + +Leathery Boy! + +He calls the scholar, Boy! + +And smokes the Fox tobacco? + +And smokes the Fox tobacco? + +And smokes the leathery Fox tobacco? + +Ha! Ha! + +Fox tobacco! + +And smokes the Fox tobacco? + +A little, Masters mine! + +A little, Masters mine! + +A little, much-honored Masters mine! + +Ha! Ha! + +Much-honored Masters mine! + +A little, Masters mine! + +Then let him fill a pipe! + +Then let him fill a pipe! + +Then let him fill a leathery pipe! + +Ha! Ha! + +Leathery pipe! + +Then let him fill a pipe! + +O Lord! It makes me sick! + +O Lord! It makes him sick! + +O Lord! It makes me leathery sick! + +Ha! Ha! + +Leathery sick! + +O Lord! It makes me sick! + +Then let him throw it off! + +Then let him throw it off! + +Then let him throw it leathery off! + +Ha! Ha! + +Leathery off! + +Then let him throw it off! + +Now I again am well! + +Now he again is well! + +Now I again am leathery well! + +Ha! Ha! + +Leathery well! + +Now I again am well! + +So grows the Fox a Bursch! + +So grows the Fox a Bursch! + +So grows the leathery Fox a Bursch! + +Ha! Ha! + +Fox a Bursch! + +So grows the Fox a Bursch! + +At length the song was finished. Meanwhile large tufts and strips of +paper had been twisted into the hair of the Branders, as those are +called who have been already one semestre at the University, and then +at a given signal were set on fire, and the Branders rode round the +table on sticks, amid roars of laughter. When this ceremony was +completed, the President rose from his chair, and in a solemn voice +pronounced a long discourse, in which old college jokes were mingled +with much parental advice to young men on entering life, and the whole +was profusely garnished with select passages from the Old Testament. +Then they all seated themselves at the table and the heavy +beer-drinking set in, as among the Gods and Heroes of the old Northern +mythology. + +"Brander! Brander!" screamed a youth, whose face was hot and flushed +with supper and with beer; "Brander, I say? Thou art a Doctor! No,--a +Pope;--thou art a Pope, by--" + +These words were addressed to a pale, quiet-looking person, who sat +opposite, and was busy in making a wretched, shaved poodle sit on his +hind legs in a chair, by his master's side, and hold a short clay pipe +in his mouth,--a performance to which the poodle seemed no wise +inclined. + +"Thou art challenged!" replied the pale Student, turning from his dog, +who dropped the pipe from his mouth and leaped under the table. + +Seconds were chosen on the spot; and the arms ordered; namely, six +mighty goblets, or Bassgläser, filled to the brim with foaming beer. +Three were placed before each duellist. + +"Take your weapons!" cried one of the seconds, and each of the +combatants seized a goblet in his hand. + +"Strike!" + +And the glasses rang, with a salutation like the crossing of swords. + +"Set to!" + +Each set the goblet to his lips. + +"Out!" + +And each poured the contents down his throat, as if he were pouring +them through a tunnel into a beer-barrel. The other two glasses +followed in quick succession, hardly a long breath drawn between. The +pale Student was victorious. He was first to drain the third goblet. He +held it for a moment inverted, to let the last drops fall out, and then +placing it quietly on the table, looked his antagonist in the face, and +said; + +"Hit!" + +Then, with the greatest coolness, he looked under the table and +whistled for his dog. His antagonist stopped midway in his third glass. +Every vein in his forehead seemed bursting; his eyes were wild and +bloodshot, his hand gradually loosened its hold upon the table, and he +sank and rolled together like a sheet of lead. He was drunk. + +At this moment a majestic figure came stalking down the table, +ghost-like, through the dim, smoky atmosphere. His coat was off, his +neck bare, his hair wild, his eyes wide open, and looking right before +him, as if he saw some beckoning hand in the air, that others could not +see. His left hand was upon his hip, and in his right he held a drawn +sword extended, and pointing downward. Regardless of every one, erect, +and with a martial stride he marched directly along the centre of the +table, crushing glasses and overthrowing bottles at everystep. The +students shrunk back at his approach; till at length one more drunk, or +more courageous, than the rest, dashed a glass full of beer into his +face. A general tumult ensued, and the student with the sword leaped to +the floor. It was Von Kleist. He was renowning it. In the midst of the +uproar could be distinguished the offensive words; + +"Arrogant! Absurd! Impertinent! Dummer Junge!" + +Von Kleist went home that night with no less than six duels on his +hands. He fought them all out in as many days; and came off with only a +gash through his upper lip and another through his right eyelid from a +dexterous Suabian Schlaeger. + + + + +CHAPTER V. THE WHITE LADY'S SLIPPER AND THE PASSION-FLOWER. + +That night Emma of Ilmenau went to her chamber with a heavy heart, and +her dusky eyes were troubled with tears. She was one of those gentle +beings, who seem created only to love and to be loved. A shade of +melancholy softened her character. She shunned the glare of daylight +and of society, and wished to be alone. Like the evening primrose, her +heart opened only after sunset; but bloomed through the dark night with +sweet fragrance. Her mother, on the contrary, flaunted in the garish +light of society. There was no sympathy between them. Their souls never +approached, never understood each other, and words were often spoken +which wounded deeply. And therefore Emma of Ilmenau went to her chamber +that night with tears in her eyes. + +She was followed by her French chamber-maid, Madeleine, a native of +Strassburg, who had grown old in the family. In her youth, she had been +poor,--and virtuous because she had never been tempted; and, now that +she had grown old, and seen no immediate reward for her virtue, as is +usual with weak minds, she despaired of Providence, and regretted she +had never been tempted. Whilst this unfortunate personage was lighting +the wax tapers on the toilet, and drawing the bed-curtains, and +tattling about the room, Emma threw herself into an arm-chair, and, +crossing her hands in her lap, and letting her head fall upon her +bosom, seemed lost in a dream. + +"Why have these gentle feelings been given me!" said she in her heart. +"Why have I been born with all these warm affections,--these ardent +longings after what is good, if they lead only to sorrow and +disappointment? I would love some one;--love him once and +forever;--devote myselfto him alone,--live for him,--die for him,-- +exist alone in him! But alas! in all this wide world there is none to +love me, as I would be loved,--none whom I may love, as I am capable of +loving. How empty, how desolate, seems the world about me! Why has +Heaven given me these affections, only to fall and fade!" + +Alas! poor child! thou too must learn like others, that the sublime +mystery of Providence goes on in silence, and gives no explanation of +itself,--no answer to our impatient questionings! + +"Bless me, child, what ails you?" exclaimed Madeleine, perceiving that +Emma paid no attention to her idle gossip. "When I was of your age--" + +"Do not talk to me now, good Madeleine. Leave me, I wish to be alone?" + +"Well, here is something," continued the maid, taking a billet from her +bosom, "which I hope will enliven you. When I was of your age--" + +"Hush! hush!" said Emma, taking the billetfrom the hard hand of +Madeleine. "Once more I beg you, leave me! I wish to be alone!" + +Madeleine took the lamp and retired slowly, wishing her young mistress +many good nights and rosy dreams. Emma broke the seal of the note. As +she read, her face became deadly pale, and then, as quick as thought, a +crimson blush gleamed on her cheek, and her hands trembled. Tenderness, +pity, love, offended pride, the weakness and dignity of woman, were all +mingled in her look, changing and passing over her fine countenance +like cloud-shadows. She sunk back in her chair, covering her face with +her hands, as if she would hide it from herself and Heaven. + +"He loves me!" said she to herself; "loves me; and is married to +another, whom he loves not! and dares to tell me this! O, never,-- +never,--never! And yet he is so friendless and alone in this +unsympathizing world,--and an exile, and homeless! I can but pity +him;--yet I hate him, and will see him no more!" + +This short reverie of love and hate was brokenby the sound of a clear, +mellow voice, which, in the universal stillness of the hour, seemed +almost like the voice of a spirit. It was a voice, without the +accompaniment of any instrument, singing those sweet lines of Goethe; + +"Under the tree-tops is quiet now! + +In all the woodlands hearest thou + +Not a sound! + +The little birds are asleep in the trees, + +Wait! wait! and soon like these, + +Sleepest thou!" + +Emma knew the voice and started. She rushed to the window to close it. +It was a beautiful night, and the stars were shining peacefully over +the mountain of All-Saints. The sound of the Neckar was soft and low, +and nightingales were singing among the brown shadows of the woods. The +large red moon shone, like a ruby, in the horizon's ample ring; and +golden threads of light seemed braided together with the rippling +current of the river. Tall and spectral stood the white statues on the +bridge. The outline of thehills, the castle, the arches of the bridge, +and the spires and roofs of the town were as strongly marked as if cut +out of pasteboard. Amid this fairy scene, a little boat was floating +silently down the stream. Emma closed the window hastily, and drew the +curtains close. + +"I hate him; and yet I will pray for him," said she, as she laid her +weary head upon that pillow, from which, but a few months before, she +thought she should never raise it again. "O, that I had died then! I +dare not love him, but I will pray for him!" + +Sweet child! If the face of the deceiver comes so often between thee +and Heaven, I tremble for thy fate! The plant that sprang from Helen's +tears destroyed serpents;--would that from thine might spring up +heart's-ease;--some plant, at least, to destroy the serpents in thy +bosom. Believe me, upon the margin of celestial streams alone, those +simples grow, which cure the heartache! + +And this the silent stars beheld, looking downfrom heaven, and told it +not again. This, likewise, the Frau Himmelhahn beheld, looking from her +chamber-window, and was not so discreet as the silent stars. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. GLIMPSES INTO CLOUD-LAND. + +"There are many things, which, having no corporeal evidence, can be +perceived and comprehended only by the discursive energies of reason. +Hence the ambiguous nature of matter can be comprehended only by +adulterated opinion. Matter is the principle of all bodies, and is +stamped with the impression of forms. Fire, air, and water derive their +origin and principle from the scalene triangle. But the earth was +created from right-angled triangles, of which two of the sides are +equal. The sphere and the pyramid contain in themselves the figure of +fire; but the octaedron was destined to be the figure of air, and the +icosaedron of water. The right-angled isosceles triangle produces from +itself a square, andthe square generates from itself the cube, which is +the figure peculiar to earth. But the figure of a beautiful and perfect +sphere was imparted to the most beautiful and perfect world, that it +might be indigent of nothing, but contain all things, embracing and +comprehending them in itself, and thus might be excellent and +admirable, similar to and in concord with itself, ever moving musically +and melodiously. If I use a novel language, excuse me. As Apuleius +says, pardon must be granted to novelty of words, when it serves to +illustrate the obscurity of things." + +These words came from the lips of the lion-like philosopher, who has +been noticed before in these pages. He was sitting with Flemming, +smoking a long pipe. As the Baron said, he was indeed a strange owl; +for the owl is a grave bird; a monk, who chants midnight mass in the +great temple of Nature;--an anchorite,--a pillar saint,--the very +Simeon Stylites of his neighbourhood. Such, likewise, was the +philosophical Professor. Solitary, but with a mighty current, flowed +the river of his life, like the Nile, without a tributary stream, and +making fertile only a single strip in the vast desert. His temperament +had been in youth a joyous one; and now, amid all his sorrows and +privations, for he had many, he looked upon the world as a glad, +bright, glorious world. On the many joys of life he gazed still with +the eyes of childhood, from the far-gone Past upward, trusting, +hoping;--and upon its sorrows with the eyes of age, from the distant +Future, downward, triumphant, not despairing. He loved solitude, and +silence, and candle-light, and the deep midnight. "For," said he, "if +the morning hours are the wings of the day, I only fold them about me +to sleep more sweetly; knowing that, at its other extremity, the day, +like the fowls of the air, has an epicurean morsel,--a parson's nose; +and on this oily midnight my spirit revels and is glad." + +Such was the Professor, who had been talking in a half-intelligible +strain for two hours or more. The Baron had fallen fast asleep in his +chair; but Flemming sat listening with excited imagination, and the +Professor continued in the following words, which, to the best of his +listener's memory, seemed gleaned here and there from Fichte's Destiny +of Man, and Shubert's History of the Soul. + +"Life is one, and universal; its forms many and individual. Throughout +this beautiful and wonderful creation there is never-ceasing motion, +without rest by night or day, ever weaving to and fro. Swifter than a +weaver's shuttle it flies from Birth to Death, from Death to Birth; +from the beginning seeks the end, and finds it not, for the seeming end +is only a dim beginning of a new out-going and endeavour after the end. +As the ice upon the mountain, when the warm breath of the summer sun +breathes upon it, melts, and divides into drops, each of which reflects +an image of the sun; so life, in the smile of God's love, divides +itself into separate forms, each bearing in it and reflecting an image +of God's love. Of all these forms the highest and most perfect inits +god-likeness is the human soul. The vast cathedral of Nature is full of +holy scriptures, and shapes of deep, mysterious meaning; but all is +solitary and silent there; no bending knee, no uplifted eye, no lip +adoring, praying. Into this vast cathedral comes the human soul, +seeking its Creator; and the universal silence is changed to sound, and +the sound is harmonious, and has a meaning, and is comprehended and +felt. It was an ancient saying of the Persians, that the waters rush +from the mountains and hurry forth into all the lands to find the Lord +of the Earth; and the flame of the Fire, when it awakes, gazes no more +upon the ground, but mounts heavenward to seek the Lord of Heaven; and +here and there the Earth has built the great watch-towers of the +mountains, and they lift their heads far up into the sky, and gaze ever +upward and around, to see if the Judge of the World comes not! Thus in +Nature herself, without man, there lies a waiting, and hoping, a +looking and yearning, after an unknown somewhat. Yes; when, above +there, where the mountain lifts its head over all others, that it may +be alone with the clouds and storms of heaven, the lonely eagle looks +forth into the gray dawn, to see if the day comes not! when, by the +mountain torrent, the brooding raven listens to hear if the chamois is +returning from his nightly pasture in the valley; and when the soon +uprising sun calls out the spicy odors of the thousand flowers, the +Alpine flowers, with heaven's deep blue and the blush of sunset on +their leaves;--then there awakes in Nature, and the soul of man can see +and comprehend it, an expectation and a longing for a future revelation +of God's majesty. It awakens, also, when in the fulness of life, field +and forest rest at noon, and through the stillness is heard only the +song of the grasshopper and the hum of the bee; and when at evening the +singing lark, up from the sweet-smelling vineyards rises, or in the +later hours of night Orion puts on his shining armour, to walk forth in +the fields of heaven. But in the soul of man alone is this longing +changed to certainty and fulfilled. For lo! thelight of the sun and the +stars shines through the air, and is nowhere visible and seen; the +planets hasten with more than the speed of the storm through infinite +space, and their footsteps are not heard, but where the sunlight +strikes the firm surface of the planets, where the stormwind smites the +wall of the mountain cliff, there is the one seen and the other heard. +Thus is the glory of God made visible, and may be seen, where in the +soul of man it meets its likeness changeless and firm-standing. Thus, +then, stands Man;--a mountain on the boundary between two worlds;--its +foot in one, its summit far-rising into the other. From this summit the +manifold landscape of life is visible, the way of the Past and +Perishable, which we have left behind us; and, as we evermore ascend, +bright glimpses of the daybreak of Eternity beyond us!" + +Flemming would fain have interrupted this discourse at times, to answer +and inquire, but the Professor went on, warming and glowing more +andmore. At length, there was a short pause, and Flemming said; + +"All these indefinite longings,--these yearnings after an unknown +somewhat, I have felt and still feel within me; but not yet their +fulfilment." + +"That is because you have not faith;" answered the Professor. "The +Present is an age of doubt and disbelief, and darkness; out of which +shall arise a clear and bright Hereafter. In the second part of +Goethe's Faust, there is a grand and striking scene, where in the +classical Walpurgis Night, on the Pharsalian Plains, the mocking +Mephistopheles sits down between the solemn antique Sphinxes, and +boldly questions them, and reads their riddles. The red light of +innumerable watch-fires glares all round about, and shines upon the +terrible face of the arch-scoffer; while on either side, severe, +majestic, solemnly serene, we behold the gigantic forms of the children +of Chimæra, half buried in the earth, their mild eyes gazing fixedly, +as if they heard through the midnight, the swift-rushing wings of the +Stymphalides, striving to outstrip the speed of Alcides' arrows! Angry +griffins are near them; and not far are Sirens, singing their wondrous +songs from the rocking branches of the willow trees! Even thus does a +scoffing and unbelieving Present sit down, between an unknown Future +and a too believing Past, and question and challenge the gigantic forms +of faith, half buried in the sands of Time, and gazing forward +steadfastly into the night, whilst sounds of anger and voices of +delight alternate vex and soothe the ear of man!--But the time will +come, when the soul of man shall return again childlike and trustful to +its faith in God; and look God in the face and die; for it is an old +saying, full of deep, mysterious meaning, that he must die, who hath +looked upon a God. And this is the fate of the soul, that it should die +continually. No sooner here on earth does it awake to its peculiar +being, than it struggles to behold and comprehend the Spirit of Life. +In the first dim twilight of its existence, it beholds this spirit, is +pervaded by its energies,--is quick and creative likethe spirit itself, +and yet slumbers away into death after having seen it. But the image it +has seen, remains, in the eternal procreation, as a homogeneal +existence, is again renewed, and the seeming death, from moment to +moment, becomes the source of kind after kind of existences in +ever-ascending series. The soul aspires ever onward to love and to +behold. It sees the image more perfect in the brightening twilight of +the dawn, in the ever higher-rising sun. It sleeps again, dying in the +clearer vision; but the image seen remains as a permanent kind; and the +slumberer awakes anew and ever higher after its own image, till at +length, in the full blaze of noonday, a being comes forth, which, like +the eagle, can behold the sun and die not. Then both live on, even when +this bodily element, the mist and vapor through which the young eagle +gazed, dissolves and falls to earth." + +"I am not sure that I understand you," said Flemming; "but if I do, you +mean to say, that, as the body continually changes and takes unto +itselfnew properties, and is not the same to-day as yesterday, so +likewise the soul lays aside its idiosyncrasies, and is changed by +acquiring new powers, and thus may be said to die. And hence, properly +speaking, the soul lives always in the Present, and has, and can have, +no Future; for the Future becomes the Present, and the soul that then +lives in me is a higher and more perfect soul; and so onward +forevermore." + +"I mean what I say," continued the Professor; "and can find no more +appropriate language to express my meaning than that which I have used. +But as I said before, pardon must be granted to the novelty of words, +when it serves to illustrate the obscurity of things. And I think you +will see clearly from what I have said, that this earthly life, when +seen hereafter from heaven, will seem like an hour passed long ago, and +dimly remembered;--that long, laborious, full of joys and sorrows as it +is, it will then have dwindled down to a mere point, hardly visible to +the far-reaching ken of the disembodied spirit. But the spirit itself +soars onward. And thus death is neither an end nor a beginning. It is a +transition not from one existence to another, but from one state of +existence to another. No link is broken in the chain of being; any more +than in passing from infancy to manhood, from manhood to old age. There +are seasons of reverie and deep abstraction, which seem to me analogous +to death. The soul gradually loses its consciousness of what is passing +around it; and takes no longer cognizance of objects which are near. It +seems for the moment to have dissolved its connexion with the body. It +has passed as it were into another state of being. It lives in another +world. It has flown over lands and seas; and holds communion with those +it loves, in distant regions of the earth, and the more distant heaven. +It sees familiar faces, and hears beloved voices, which to the bodily +senses are no longer visible and audible. And this likewise is death; +save that when we die, the soul returns no more to the dwelling it has +left." + +"You seem to take it for granted," interrupted Flemming, "that, in our +reveries, the soul really goes out of the body into distant places, +instead of summoning up their semblance within itself by the power of +memory and imagination!" + +"Something I must take for granted," replied the Professor. "We will +not discuss that point now. I speak not without forethought. Just +observe what a glorious thing human life is, when seen in this light; +and how glorious man's destiny. I am; thou art; he is! seems but a +school-boy's conjugation. But therein lies a great mystery. These words +are significant of much. We behold all round about us one vast union, +in which no man can labor for himself without laboring at the same time +for all others; a glimpse of truth, which by the universal harmony of +things becomes an inward benediction, and lifts the soul mightily +upward. Still more so, when a man regards himself as a necessary member +of this union. The feeling of our dignity and our power grows strong, +when we say to ourselves; My being is not objectless and in vain; I am +a necessary link in the great chain, which, from the full development +of consciousness in the first man, reaches forward into eternity. All +the great, and wise, and good among mankind, all the benefactors of the +human race, whose names I read in the world's history, and the still +greater number of those, whose good deeds have outlived their +names,--all those have labored for me. I have entered into their +harvest. I walk the green earth, which they inhabited. I tread in their +footsteps, from which blessings grow. I can undertake the sublime task, +which they once undertook, the task of making our common brotherhood +wiser and happier. I can build forward, where they were forced to leave +off; and bring nearer to perfection the great edifice which they left +uncompleted. And at length I, too, must leave it, and go hence. O, this +is the sublimest thought of all! I can never finish the noble task; +therefore, so sure as this task is my destiny, I can never cease to +work, and consequently never cease to be. What men call death cannot +break off this task, which is never-ending; consequently no periodis +set to my being, and I am eternal. I lift my head boldly to the +threatening mountain peaks, and to the roaring cataract, and to the +storm-clouds swimming in the fire-sea overhead and say; I am eternal, +and defy your power! Break, break over me! and thou Earth, and thou +Heaven, mingle in the wild tumult! and ye Elements foam and rage, and +destroy this atom of dust,--this body, which I call mine! My will +alone, with its fixed purpose, shall hover brave and triumphant over +the ruins of the universe; for I have comprehended my destiny; and it +is more durable than ye! It is eternal; and I, who recognise it, I +likewise am eternal! Tell me, my friend, have you no faith in this?" + +"I have;" answered Flemming, and there was another pause. He then said; + +"I have listened to you patiently and without interruption. Now listen +to me. You complain of the skepticism of the age. This is one form in +which the philosophic spirit of the age presents itself. Let me tell +you, that another form, whichit assumes, is that of poetic reverie. +Plato of old had dreams like these; and the Mystics of the Middle Ages; +and still their disciples walk in the cloud-land and dream-land of this +poetic philosophy. Pleasant and cool upon their souls lie the shadows +of the trees under which Plato taught. From their whispering leaves +comes wafted across the noise of populous centuries a solemn and +mysterious sound, which to them is the voice of the Soul of the World. +All nature has become spiritualized and transfigured; and, wrapt in +beautiful, vague dreams of the real and the ideal, they live in this +green world, like the little child in the German tale, who sits by the +margin of a woodland lake, and hears the blue heaven and the branches +overhead dispute with their reflection in the water, which is the +reality and which the image. I willingly confess, that such day-dreams +as these appeal strongly to my imagination. Visitants and attendants +are they of those lofty souls, which, soaring ever higher and higher, +build themselves nests under the very eaves of the stars, forgetful +that theycannot live on air, but must descend to earth for food. Yet I +recognise them as day-dreams only; as shadows, not substantial things. +What I mainly dislike in the New Philosophy, is the cool impertinence +with which an old idea, folded in a new garment, looks you in the face +and pretends not to know you, though you have been familiar friends +from childhood. I remember an English author who, in speaking of your +German Philosophies, says very wisely; `Often a proposition of +inscrutable and dread aspect, when resolutely grappled with, and torn +from its shady den, and its bristling entrenchments of uncouth +terminology,--and dragged forth into the open light of day, to be seen +by the natural eye and tried by merely human understanding, proves to +be a very harmless truth, familiar to us from old, sometimes so +familiar as to be a truism. Too frequently the anxious novice is +reminded of Dryden in the Battle of the Books; there is a helmet of +rusty iron, dark, grim, gigantic; and within it, at the farthest +corner, is a head no bigger than a walnut.'--Can you believe, thatthese +words ever came from the lips of Carlyle! He has himself taken up the +uncouth terminology of late; and many pure, simple minds are much +offended at it. They seem to take it as a personal insult. They are +angry; and deny the just meed of praise. It is, however, hardly worth +while to lose our presence of mind. Let us rather profit as we may, +even from this spectacle, and recognise the monarch in his masquerade. +For, hooded and wrapped about with that strange and antique garb, there +walks a kingly, a most royal soul, even as the Emperor Charles walked +amid solemn cloisters under a monk's cowl;--a monarch still in soul. +Such things are not new in the history of the world. Ever and anon they +sweep over the earth, and blow themselves out soon, and then there is +quiet for a season, and the atmosphere of Truth seems more serene. Why +would you preach to the wind? Why reason with thunder-showers? Better +sit quiet, and see them pass over like a pageant, cloudy, superb, and +vast." + +The Professor smiled self-complacently, but said not a word. Flemming +continued; + +"I will add no more than this;--there are many speculations in +Literature, Philosophy, and Religion, which, though pleasant to walk +in, and lying under the shadow of great names, yet lead to no important +result. They resemble rather those roads in the western forests of my +native land, which, though broad and pleasant at first, and lying +beneath the shadow of great branches, finally dwindle to a squirrel +track, and run up a tree!" + +The Professor hardly knew whether he should laugh or be offended at +this sally; and, laying his hand upon Flemming's arm, he said +seriously; + +"Believe me, my young friend, the time will come, when you will think +more wisely on these things. And with you, I trust, that time will soon +come; since it moves more speedily with some than with others. For what +is Time? The shadow on the dial,--the striking of the clock,--the +running of the sand,--day and night,--summerand winter,--months, years, +centuries! These are but arbitrary and outward signs,--the measure of +Time, not Time itself! Time is the Life of the Soul. If not this, then +tell me what it is?" + +The high and animated tone of voice in which the Professor uttered +these words aroused the Baron from his sleep; and, not distinctly +comprehending what was said, but thinking the Professor asked what time +it was, he innocently exclaimed; + +"I should think it must be near midnight!" + +This somewhat disconcerted the Professor, who took his leave soon +afterward. When he was gone the Baron said; + +"Excuse me for treating your guest so cavalierly. His transcendentalism +annoyed me not a little; and I took refuge in sleep. One would think, +to judge by the language of this sect, that they alone saw any beauty +in Nature; and, when I hear one of them discourse, I am instantly +reminded of Goethe's Baccalaureus, when he exclaims; `The world was not +before I created it; Ibrought the sun up out of the sea; with me began +the changeful course of the moon; the day decked itself on my account; +the earth grew green and blossomed to meet me; at my nod in that first +night, the pomp of all the stars developed itself; who but I set you +free from all the bonds of Philisterlike, contracting thoughts? I, +however, emancipated as my mind assures me I am, gladly pursue my +inward light, advance boldly in a transport peculiarly my own, the +bright before me, and the dark behind!'--Do you not see a resemblance? +O, they might be modest enough to confess, that one straggling ray of +light may, by some accident, reach the blind eyes of even us poor, +benighted heathens?" + +"Alas! how little veneration we have!" said Flemming. "I could not help +closing the discussion with a jest. An ill-timed levity often takes me +by surprise. On all such occasions I think of a scene at the +University, where, in the midst of a grave discussion on the +possibility of Absolute Motion, a scholar said he had seen a rock +splitopen, from which sprang a toad, who could not be supposed to have +any knowledge of the external world, and consequently his motion must +have been absolute. The learned Professor, who presided on that +occasion, was hardly more startled and astonished, than was our learned +Professor, five minutes ago. But come; wind up your watch, and let us +go to bed." + +"By the way," said the Baron, "did you mind what a curious head he has. +There are two crowns upon it." + +"That is a sign," replied Flemming, "that he will eat his bread in two +kingdoms." + +"I think the poor man would be very thankful," said the Baron with a +smile, "if he were always sure of eating it in one. He is what the +Transcendentalists call a god-intoxicated man; and I advise him, as +Sauteul advised Bossuet, to go to Patmos and write a new Apocalypse." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. MILL-WHEELS AND OTHER WHEELS. + +A few days after this the Baron received letters from his sister, +telling him, that her physicians had prescribed a few weeks at the +Baths of Ems, and urging him to meet her there before the fashionable +season. + +"Come," said he to Flemming; "make this short journey with me. We will +pass a few pleasant days at Ems, and visit the other watering-places of +Nassau. It will drive away the melancholy day-dreams that haunt you. +Perhaps some future bride is even now waiting for you, with dim +presentiments and undefined longings, at the Serpent's Bath." + +"Or some widow of Ems, with a cork-leg!" said Flemming, smiling; and +then added, in a toneof voice half jest, half earnest, "Certainly; let +us go in pursuit of her;-- + +`Whoe'er she be, + +That not impossible she, + +That shall command my heart and me. + +Where'er she lie, + +Hidden from mortal eye, + +In shady leaves of destiny.' " + +They started in the afternoon for Frankfort, pursuing their way slowly +along the lovely Bergstrasse, famed throughout Germany for its beauty. +They passed the ruined house where Martin Luther lay concealed after +the Diet of Worms, and through the village of Handschuhsheimer, as old +as the days of King Pepin the Short,--a hamlet, lying under the hills, +half-buried in blossoms and green leaves. Close on the right rose the +mountains of the mysterious Odenwald; and on the left lay the Neckar, +like a steel bow in the meadow. Farther westward, a thin, smoky vapor +betrayed the course of the Rhine; beyond which, like a troubled sea, +ran the blue, billowy Alsatian hills. Song of birds, and sound of +evening bells, and fragrance of sweet blossoms filled the air; and +silent and slow sank the broad red sun, half-hidden amid folding +clouds. + +"We shall not pass the night at Weinheim," said the Baron to the +postilion, who had dismounted to walk up the hill, leading to the town. +"You may drive to the mill in the Valley of Birkenau." + +The postilion seized one of his fat horses by the tail, and swung +himself up to his seat again. They rattled through the paved streets of +Weinheim, and took no heed of the host of the Golden Eagle, who stood +so invitingly at the door of his own inn; and the ruins of Burg +Windeck, above there, on its mountain throne, frowned at them for +hurrying by, without staying to do him homage. + +"The old ruin looks well from the valley," said the Baron; "but let us +beware of climbing that steep hill. Most travellers are like children; +they must needs touch whatever they behold. They climb up to every old +broken tooth of acastle, which they find on their way;--get a toilsome +ascent and hot sunshine for their pains, and come down wearied and +disappointed. I trust we are wiser." + +They crossed the bridge, and turned up the stream, passing under an +arch of stone, which serves as a gateway to this enchanted Valley of +Birkenau. A cool and lovely valley! shut in by high hills;--shaded by +alder-trees and tall poplars, under which rushes the Wechsnitz, a noisy +mountain brook, that ever and anon puts its broad shoulder to the wheel +of a mill, and shows that it can labor as well as laugh. At one of +these mills they stopped for the night. + +A mill forms as characteristic a feature in the romantic German +landscape, as in the romantic German tale. It is not only a mill, but +likewise an ale-house and rural inn; so that the associations it +suggests are not of labor only, but also of pleasure. It stands in the +narrow defile, with its picturesque, thatched roof; thither throng +thepeasants, of a holiday; and there are rustic dances under the trees. + +In the twilight of the fast-approaching summer night, the Baron and +Flemming walked forth along the borders of the stream. As they heard +it, rushing and gushing among the stones and tangled roots, and the +great wheel turning in the current, with its never-ceasing plash! +plash! it brought to their minds that exquisite, simple song of Goethe, +the Youth and the Mill-brook. It was for the moment a nymph, which sang +to them in the voice of the waters. + +"I am persuaded," said Flemming, "that, in order fully to understand +and fell the popular poetry of Germany, one must be familiar with the +German landscape. Many sweet little poems are the outbreaks of +momentary feelings;--words, to which the song of birds, the rustling of +leaves, and the gurgle of cool waters form the appropriate music. Or +perhaps I should say they are words, which man has composed to the +music of nature. Can you not, even now, hear this brooklet tellingyou +how it is on its way to the mill, where at day-break the miller's +daughter opens her window, and comes down to bathe her face in its +stream, and her bosom is so full and white, that it kindles the glow of +love in the cool waters!" + +"A most delightful ballad, truly," said the Baron. "But like many +others of our little songs, it requires a poet to fell and understand +it. Sing them in the valley and woodland shadows, and under the leafy +roofs of garden walks, and at night, and alone, as they were written. +Sing them not in the loud world,--for the loud world laughs such things +to scorn. It is Mueller who says, in that little song, where the maiden +bids the moon good evening; + +`This song was made to be sung at night, + +And he who reads it in broad daylight, + +Will never read the mystery right; + +And yet it is childlike easy!' + +He has written a great many pretty songs, in which the momentary, +indefinite longings and impulses of the soul of man find an expression. +Hecalls them the songs of a Wandering Horn-player. There is one among +them much to our present purpose. He expresses in it, the feeling of +unrest and desire of motion, which the sight and sound of running +waters often produce in us. It is entitled, `Whither?' and is worth +repeating to you. + +`I heard a brooklet gushing + +From its rocky fountain near, + +Down into the valley rushing, + +So fresh and wondrous clear. + +`I know not what came o'er me, + +Nor who the counsel gave; + +But I must hasten downward, + +All with my pilgrim-stave. + +`Downward, and ever farther, + +And ever the brook beside; + +And ever fresher murmured, + +And ever clearer the tide. + +`Is this the way I was going? + +Whither, O brooklet, say! + +Thou hast, with thy soft murmur, + +Murmured my senses away. + +`What do I say of a murmur? + +That can no murmur be; + +'T is the water-nymphs, that are singing + +Their roundelays under me. + +`Let them sing, my friend, let them murmur, + +And wander merrily near; + +The wheels of a mill are going + +In every brooklet clear.' " + +"There you have the poetic reverie," said Flemming, "and the dull prose +commentary and explanation in matter of fact. The song is pretty; and +was probably suggested by some such scene as this, which we are now +beholding. Doubtless all your old national traditions sprang up in the +popular mind as this song in the poet's." + +"Your opinion is certainly correct," answered the Baron; "and yet all +this play of poetic fancy does not prevent me from feeling the chill +night air, and the pangs of hunger. Let us go back to the mill, and see +what our landlady has for supper. Did you observe what a loud, sharp +voice she has?" + +"People always have, who live in mills, and near water-falls." + +On the following morning they emerged unwillingly from the green, dark +valley, and journeyed along the level highway to Frankfort, where in +the evening they heard the glorious Don Giovanni of Mozart. Of all +operas this was Flemming's favorite. What rapturous flights of sound! +what thrilling, pathetic chimes! what wild, joyous revelry of passion! +what a delirium of sense!--what an expression of agony and woe! all the +feelings of suffering and rejoicing humanity sympathized with and +finding a voice in those tones. Flemming and the Baron listened with +ever-increasing delight. + +"How wonderful this is!" exclaimed Flemming, transported by his +feelings. "How the chorus swells and dies, like the wind of summer! How +those passages of mysterious import seem to wave to and fro, like the +swaying branches of trees; from which anon some solitary sweetvoice +darts off like a bird, and floats away and revels in the bright, warm +sunshine! And then mark! how, amid the chorus of a hundred voices and a +hundred instruments,--of flutes, and drums, and trumpets,--this +universal shout and whirl-wind of the vexed air, you can so clearly +distinguish the melancholy vibration of a single string, touched by the +finger,--a mournful, sobbing sound! Ah, this is indeed human life! +where in the rushing, noisy crowd, and amid sounds of gladness, and a +thousand mingling emotions, distinctly audible to the ear of thought, +are the pulsations of some melancholy string of the heart, touched by +an invisible hand." + +Then came, in the midst of these excited feelings, the ballet; drawing +its magic net about the soul. And soon, from the tangled yet harmonious +mazes of the dance, came forth a sylph-like form, her scarf floating +behind her, as if she were fanning the air with gauze-like wings. +Noiseless as a feather or a snow-flake falls, did her feet touch the +earth. She seemed to floatin the air, and the floor to bend and wave +under her, as a branch, when a bird alights upon it, and takes wing +again. Loud and rapturous applause followed each wonderful step, each +voluptuous movement; and, with a flushed cheek and burning eye, and +bosom panting to be free, stood the gracefully majestic figure for a +moment still, and then the winged feet of the swift dancing-girls +glanced round her, and she was lost again in the throng. + +"How truly exquisite this is!" exclaimed the Baron, after joining +loudly in the applause. "What a noble figure! What grace! what +attitudes! How much soul in every motion! how much expression in every +gesture! I assure you, it produces upon me the same effect as a +beautiful poem. It is a poem. Every step is a word; and the whole +together a poem!" + +The Baron and Flemming were delighted with the scene; and at the same +time exceedingly amused with the countenance of an old prude in the +next box, who seemed to look upon the wholemagic show, with such +feelings as Michal, Saul's daughter, experienced, when she looked from +her window and saw King David dancing and leaping with his scanty +garments. + +"After all," said Flemming, "the old French priest was not so far out +of the way, when he said, in his coarse dialect, that the dance is the +Devil's procession; and paint and ornaments, the whetting of the +devil's sword; and the ring that is made in dancing, the devil's +grindstone, whereon he sharpens his sword; and finally, that a ballet +is the pomp and mass of the Devil, and whosoever entereth therein, +entereth into his pomp and mass; for the woman who singeth is the +prioress of the Devil, and they that answer are clerks, and they that +look on are parishioners, and the cymbals and flutes are the bells, and +the musicians that play are the ministers, of the Devil." + +"No doubt this good lady near us, thinks so likewise," answered the +Baron laughing; "but she likes it, for all that." + +When the play was over the Baron begged Flemming to sit still, till the +crowd had gone. + +"I have a strange fancy," said he, "whenever I come to the theatre, to +see the end of all things. When the crowd is gone, and the curtain +raised again to air the house, and the lamps are all out, save here and +there one behind the scenes, the contrast with what has gone before is +most impressive. Every thing wears a dream-like aspect. The empty boxes +and stalls,--the silence,--the smoky twilight, and the magic scene +dismantled, produce in me a strange, mysterious feeling. It is like a +dim reflection of a theatre in water, or in a dusty mirror; and reminds +me of some of Hoffmann's wild Tales. It is a practical moral lesson,--a +commentary on the play, and makes the show complete." + +It was truly as he said; only tenfold more desolate, solemn, and +impressive; and produced upon the mind the effect we experience, when +slumber is suddenly broken, and dreams and realities mingle, and we +know not yet whether we sleep or wake. As they at length passed out +through the dimly-lighted passage, they heard a vulgar-looking fellow, +with a sensual face and shaggy whiskers, say to some persons who were +standing near him, and seemed to be hangers-on of the play-house; + +"I shall run her six nights at Munich, and then take her on to Vienna." + +Flemming thought he was speaking of some favorite horse. He was +speaking of his beautiful wife, the ballet-dancer. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. OLD HUMBUG. + +What most interested our travellers in the ancient city of Frankfort, +was neither the opera nor the Ariadne of Dannecker, but the house in +which Goethe was born, and the scenes he frequented in his childhood, +and remembered in his old age. Such for example are the walks around +the city, outside the moat; the bridge over the Maine, with the golden +cock on the cross, which the poet beheld and marvelled at when a boy; +the cloister of the Barefooted Friars, through which he stole with +mysterious awe to sit by the oilcloth-covered table of old Rector +Albrecht; and the garden in which his grandfather walked up and down +among fruit-trees and rose-bushes, in long morning gown, black velvet +cap, and the antique leather gloves, which he annually received as +Mayor on Pipers-Doomsday, representing a kind of middle personage +between Alcinous and Laertes. Thus, O Genius! are thy foot-prints +hallowed; and the star shines forever over the place of thy nativity. + +"Your English critics may rail as they list," said the Baron, while he +and Flemming were returning from a stroll in the leafy gardens, outside +the moat; "but, after all, Goethe was a magnificent old fellow. Only +think of his life; his youth of passion, alternately aspiring and +desponding, stormy, impetuous, headlong;--his romantic manhood, in +which passion assumes the form of strength; assiduous, careful, +toiling, without haste, without rest; and his sublime old age,--the age +of serene and classic repose, where he stands like Atlas, as Claudian +has painted him in the Battle of the Giants, holding the world aloft +upon his head, the ocean-streams hard frozen in his hoary locks." + +"A good illustration of what the world calls his indifferentism." + +"And do you know I rather like this indifferentism? Did you never have +the misfortune to live in a community, where a difficulty in the parish +seemed to announce the end of the world? or to know one of the +benefactors of the human race, in the very `storm and pressure period' +of his indiscreet enthusiasm? If you have, I think you will see +something beautiful in the calm and dignified attitude which the old +philosopher assumes." + +"It is a pity, that his admirers had not a little of this philosophic +coolness. It amuses me to read the various epithets, which they apply +to him; The Dear, dear Man! The Life-enjoying Man! The All-sided One! +The Representative of Poetry upon earth! The Many-sided Master-Mind of +Germany! His enemies rush into the other extreme, and hurl at him the +fierce names of Old Humbug! and Old Heathen! which hit like +pistol-bullets." + +"I confess, he was no saint." + +"No; his philosophy is the old ethnic philosophy. You will find it all +in a convenient andconcentrated, portable form in Horace's beautiful +Ode to Thaliarcus. What I most object to in the old gentleman is his +sensuality." + +"O nonsense. Nothing can be purer than the Iphigenia; it is as cold and +passionless as a marble statue." + +"Very true; but you cannot say the same of some of the Roman Elegies +and of that monstrous book the Elective Affinities." + +"Ah, my friend, Goethe is an artist; and looks upon all things as +objects of art merely. Why should he not be allowed to copy in words +what painters and sculptors copy in colors and in marble?" + +"The artist shows his character in the choice of his subject. Goethe +never sculptured an Apollo, nor painted a Madonna. He gives us only +sinful Magdalens and rampant Fauns. He does not so much idealize as +realize." + +"He only copies nature." + +"So did the artists, who made the bronzelamps of Pompeii. Would you +hang one of those in your hall? To say that a man is an artist and +copies nature is not enough. There are two great schools of art; the +imitative and the imaginative. The latter is the most noble, and most +enduring; and Goethe belonged rather to the former. Have you read +Menzel's attack upon him?" + +"It is truly ferocious. The Suabian hews into him lustily. I hope you +do not side with him." + +"By no means. He goes too far. He blames the poet for not being a +politician. He might as well blame him for not being a missionary to +the Sandwich Islands." + +"And what do you think of Eckermann?" + +"I think he is a toady; a kind of German Boswell. Goethe knew he was +drawing his portrait, and attitudinized accordingly. He works very hard +to make a Saint Peter out of an old Jupiter, as the Catholics did at +Rome." + +"Well; call him Old Humbug, or Old Heathen, or what you please; I +maintain, that, with all his errors and short-comings, he was a +glorious specimen of a man." + +"He certainly was. Did it ever occur to you that he was in some points +like Ben Franklin? a kind of rhymed Ben Franklin? The practical +tendency of his mind was the same; his love of science was the same; +his benignant, philosophic spirit was the same; and a vast number of +his little poetic maxims and sooth-sayings seem nothing more than the +worldly wisdom of Poor Richard, versified." + +"What most offends me is, that now every German jackass must have a +kick at the dead lion." + +"And every one who passes through Weimar must throw a book upon his +grave, as travellers did of old a stone upon the grave of Manfredi, at +Benevento. But, of all that has been said or sung, what most pleases me +is Heine's Apologetic, if I may so call it; in which he says, that the +minor poets, who flourished under the imperialreign of Goethe `resemble +a young forest, where the trees first show their own magnitude after +the oak of a hundred years, whose branches had towered above and +overshadowed them, has fallen. There was not wanting an opposition, +that strove against Goethe, this majestic tree. Men of the most warring +opinions united themselves for the contest. The adherents of the old +faith, the orthodox, were vexed, that, in the trunk of the vast tree, +no niche with its holy image was to be found; nay, that even the naked +Dryads of paganism were permitted to play their witchery there; and +gladly, with consecrated axe, would they have imitated the holy +Boniface, and levelled the enchanted oak to the ground. The followers +of the new faith, the apostles of liberalism, were vexed on the other +hand, that the tree could not serve as the Tree of Liberty, or, at any +rate, as a barricade. In fact the tree was too high; no one could plant +the red cap upon its summit, or dance the Carmagnole beneath its +branches. The multitude, however, venerated this tree for the +veryreason, that it reared itself with such independent grandeur, and +so graciously filled the world with its odor, while its branches, +streaming magnificently toward heaven, made it appear, as if the stars +were only the golden fruit of its wondrous limbs.' Don't you think that +beautiful?" + +"Yes, very beautiful. And I am glad to see, that you can find something +to admire in my favorite author, notwithstanding his frailties; or, to +use an old German saying, that you can drive the hens out of the garden +without trampling down the beds." + +"Here is the old gentleman himself!" exclaimed Flemming. + +"Where!" cried the Baron, as if for the moment he expected to see the +living figure of the poet walking before them. + +"Here at the window,--that full-length cast. Excellent, is it not! He +is dressed, as usual, in his long yellow nankeen surtout, with a white +cravat crossed in front. What a magnificent head! and what a posture! +He stands like a tower ofstrength. And, by Heavens! he was nearly +eighty years old, when that was made." + +"How do you know?" + +"You can see by the date on the pedestal." + +"You are right. And yet how erect he stands, with his square shoulders +braced back, and his hands behind him. He looks as if he were standing +before the fire. I feel tempted to put a live coal into his hand, it +lies so invitingly half-open. Gleim's description of him, soon after he +went to Weimar, is very different from this. Do you recollect it?" + +"No, I do not." + +"It is a story, which good old father Gleim used to tell with great +delight. He was one evening reading the Göttingen Musen-Almanach in a +select society at Weimar, when a young man came in, dressed in a short, +green shooting-jacket, booted and spurred, and having a pair of +brilliant, black, Italian eyes. He in turn offered to read; but finding +probably the poetry of the Musen-Almanach of that year rather too +insipid for him, he soon began to improvise the wildest and most +fantastic poems imaginable, and in all possible forms and measures, all +the while pretending to read from the book. `That is either Goethe or +the Devil,' said good old father Gleim to Wieland, who sat near him. To +which the `Great I of Osmannstadt' replied; `It is both, for he has the +Devil in him to-night; and at such times he is like a wanton colt, that +flings out before and behind, and you will do well not to go too near +him!' " + +"Very good!" + +"And now that noble figure is but mould. Only a few months ago, those +majestic eyes looked for the last time on the light of a pleasant +spring morning. Calm, like a god, the old man sat; and with a smile +seemed to bid farewell to the light of day, on which he had gazed for +more than eighty years. Books were near him, and the pen which had just +dropped, as it were from his dying fingers. `Open the shutters, and let +in more light!' were the last words that came from those lips. Slowly +stretching forth his hand, he seemed to write inthe air; and, as it +sank down again and was motionless, the spirit of the old man +departed." + +"And yet the world goes on. It is strange how soon, when a great man +dies, his place is filled; and so completely, that he seems no longer +wanted. But let us step in here. I wish to buy that cast; and send it +home to a friend." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. THE DAYLIGHT OF THE DWARFS, AND THE FALLING STAR. + +After lingering a day or two in Frankfort, the two friends struck +across through Hochheim to the Rhine, and then up among the hills of +the Rheingau to Schlangenbad, where they tarried only to bathe, and to +dine; and then pursued their way to Langenschwalbach. The town lies in +a valley, with gently-sloping hills around it, and long avenues of +poplars leading forth into the fields. One interminable street cuts the +town in twain, and there are old houses with curious faces carved upon +their fronts, and dates of the olden time. + +Our travellers soon sallied forth from their hotel, impatient to drink +the strength-giving watersof the fountains. They continued their walk +far up the valley under the poplars. The new grain was waving in the +fields; the birds singing in the trees and in the air; and every thing +seemed glad, save a poor old man, who came tottering out of the woods, +with a heavy bundle of sticks on his shoulders. + +Returning upon their steps, they passed down the valley and through the +long street to the tumble-down old Lutheran church. A flight of stone +steps leads from the street to the green terrace or platform on which +the church stands, and which, in ancient times, was the churchyard, or +as the Germans more devoutly say, God's-acre; where generations are +scattered like seeds, and that which is sown in corruption shall be +raised hereafter in incorruption. On the steps stood an old man,--a +very old man,--holding a little girl by the hand. He took off his +greasy cap as they passed, and wished them good day. His teeth were +gone; he could hardly articulate a syllable. The Baron asked him how +old the church was. Hegave no answer; but when the question was +repeated, came close up to them, and taking off his cap again, turned +his ear attentively, and said; + +"I am hard of hearing." + +"Poor old man," said Flemming; "He is as much a ruin as the church we +are entering. It will not be long before he, too, shall be sown as seed +in this God's-acre!" + +The little girl ran into a house close at hand, and brought out the +great key. The church door swung open, and, descending a few steps, +they passed through a low-roofed passage into the church. All was in +ruin. The gravestones in the pavement were started from their places; +the vaults beneath yawned; the roof above was falling piecemeal; there +were rents in the old tower; and mysterious passages, and side doors +with crazy flights of wooden steps, leading down into the churchyard. +Amid all this ruin, one thing only stood erect; it was a statue of a +knight in armour, standing in a niche under the pulpit. + +"Who is this?" said Flemming to the old sexton; "who is this, that +stands here so solemnly in marble, and seems to be keeping guard over +the dead men below?" + +"I do not know," replied the old man; "but I have heard my grandfather +say it was the statue of a great warrior!" + +"There is history for you!" exclaimed the Baron. "There is fame! To +have a statue of marble, and yet have your name forgotten by the sexton +of your parish, who can remember only, that he once heard his +grandfather say, that you were a great warrior!" + +Flemming made no reply, for he was thinking of the days, when from that +old pulpit, some bold reformer thundered down the first tidings of a +new doctrine, and the roof echoed with the grand old hymns of Martin +Luther. + +When he communicated his thoughts to the Baron, the only answer he +received was; + +"After all, what is the use of so much preaching? Do you think the +fishes, that heard the sermon of St. Anthony, were any better than +thosewho did not? I commend to your favorable notice the fish-sermon of +this saint, as recorded by Abraham à Santa Clara. You will find it in +your favorite Wonder-Horn." + +Thus passed the day at Langenschwalbach; and the evening at the +Allée-Saal was quite solitary; for as yet no company had arrived to +fill its chambers, or sit under the trees before the door. The next +morning even Flemming and the Baron were gone; for the German's heart +was beating with strong desire to embrace his sister; and the heart of +his friend cared little whither he went, sobeit he were not too much +alone. + +After a few hours' drive, they were looking down from the summit of a +hill right upon the house-tops of Ems. There it lay, deep sunk in the +hollow beneath them, as if some inhabitant of Sirius, like him spoken +of in Voltaire's tale of Micromegas, held it in the hollow of his hand. +High and peaked rise the hills, that throw their shadows into this +romantic valley, and at their base winds the river Lahn. Our +travellersdrove through the one long street, composed entirely of +hotels and lodging-houses. Sick people looked out of the windows, as +they passed. Others were walking leisurely up and down, beneath the few +decapitated trees, which represent a public promenade; and a boy, with +a blue frock and crimson cap, was driving three donkeys down the +street. In short, they were in a fashionable watering-place; as yet +sprinkled only by a few pattering drops of the summer rain of +strangers, which generally follows the first hot days. + +On alighting at the London Hotel, the Baron found--not his sister, but +only a letter from her, saying she had changed her mind and gone to the +Baths of Franconia. This was a disappointment, which the Baron pocketed +with the letter, and said not a word more about either. It was his way; +his life-philosophy in small things and great. In the evening, they +went to an æsthetic tea, at the house of the Frau Kranich, the wife of +a rich banker of Frankfort. + +"I must tell you about this Frau Kranich," said the Baron to Flemming, +on the way. "She is a woman of talent and beauty, and just in the prime +of life. But, unfortunately, very ambitious. Her mania is, to make a +figure in the fashionable world; and to this end she married a rich +banker of Frankfort, old enough to be her father, not to say her +grandfather, hoping, doubtless, that he would soon die; for, if ever a +woman wished to be a widow, she is that woman. But the old fellow is +tough and won't die. Moreover, he is deaf, and crabbed, and penurious, +and half the time bed-ridden. The wife is a model of virtue, +notwithstanding her weakness. She nurses the old gentleman as if he +were a child. And, to crown all, he hates society, and will not hear of +his wife's receiving or going into company." + +"How, then, can she give soirées?" asked Flemming. + +"I was just going to tell you," continued the Baron. "The gay lady has +no taste for long evenings with the old gentleman in the back +chamber;--for being thus chained like a criminal under Mezentius, face +to face with a dead body. So she puts him to bed first, and--" + +"Gives him opium." + +"Yes, I dare say; and then gives herself a soirée, without his knowing +any thing about it. This course of deception is truly hateful in +itself, and must be particularly so to her, for she is not a low, or an +immoral woman; but one of those who, not having strength enough to +complete the sacrifice they have had strength enough to commence, are +betrayed into a life of duplicity and falsehood." + +They had now reached the house, and were ushered into a room gaily +lighted and filled with guests. The hostess came forward to receive +them, dressed in white, and sailing down the room like a swan. When the +customary salutations had passed and Flemming had been duly presented, +the Baron said, not without a certain degree of malice; + +"And, my dear Frau Kranich, how is your good husband to night?" + +This question was about as discreet as a cannon-ball. But the lady +replied in the simplicity of her heart, and not in the least +disconcerted; + +"The same as ever, my dear Baron. It is astonishing how he holds out. +But let us not talk of these things now. I must introduce your friend +to his countryman, the Grand Duke of Mississippi; alike remarkable for +his wealth, his modesty, and the extreme simplicity of his manners. He +drives only six horses. Besides, he is known as a man of learning and +piety;--has his private chapel, and private clergyman, who always +preaches against the vanity of worldly riches. He has also a private +secretary, whose sole duty is to smoke to him, that he may enjoy the +aroma of Spanish cigars, without the trouble of smoking." + +"Decidedly a man of genius!" + +Here Flemming was introduced to his illustrious countryman; a person +who seemed to consist chiefly of linen, such a display did he make of +collar, bosom, and wristbands. + +"Pray, Mr. Flemming, what do you think of that Rembrandt?" said he, +pointing to a picture onthe wall. "Exquisite picture! The grandeur of +sentiment and splendor of chiaroscuro are of the first order. Just +observe the liquidity of the water, and the silveryness of the clouds! +Great power! There is a bravura of handling in that picture, Sir, which +requires the eye of the connoisseur to appreciate." + +"Yes, a most undoubted--copy!" + +And here their conversation ended; for at that moment the little +Moldavian Prince Jerkin made his way through the crowd, with his +snuff-box as usual in his hand, and hurried up to Flemming whom he had +known in Heidelberg. He was eager to let every one know that he spoke +English, and in his haste began by making a mistake. + +"Good bye! Good bye! Mr. Flemming!" said he, instead of good evening. +"I am ravished to see you in Ems. Nice place;--all that there is of +most nice. I drink my water and am good! Do you not think the Frau +Kranich has a very beautiful leather?" + +He meant skin. Flemming laughed outright; but it was not perceived by +the Prince, because at that moment he was pushed aside, in the rush of +a gallopade, and Flemming beheld his face no more. At the same moment +the Baron introduced a friend of his, who also spoke English and said; + +"You will sup with me to-night. I have some Rhine-wine, which will be a +seduction to you." + +Soon after, the Baron stood with an impassioned, romantic lady leaning +on his arm, examining a copy of Raphael's Fornarina. + +"Ach! I wish I had been the Fornarina," sighed the impassioned, +romantic lady. + +"Then, my dear Madam," replied the Baron, "I wish I had been Raphael." + +And so likewise said to himself a very tall man with fiery red hair, +and fancy whiskers, who was waltzing round and round in one spot, and +in a most extraordinary waistcoat; thus representing a fiery, +floating-light, to warn men of the hidden rocks, on which the breath of +vanity drives them shipwreck. At length, his partner, tired of +spinning, sank upon a sofa, like a child's top, when it reels and +falls. + +"You do not like the waltz?" said an elderly French gentleman, +remarking the expression of Flemming's countenance. + +"O yes; among the figurantes of the Opera. But I confess, it sometimes +makes me shudder to see a young rake clasp his arms round the waist of +a pure and innocent girl. What would you say, were you to see him +sitting on a sofa with his arms round your wife?" + +"Mere prejudice of education," replied the French gentleman. "I know +that situation. I have read all about it in the Bibliothèque de Romans +Choisis!" + +And merrily went the dance; and bright eyes and flushed cheeks were not +wanting among the dancers; + +"And they waxed red, and waxed warm, + +And rested, panting, arm in arm," + +and the Strauss-walzes sounded pleasantly in the ears of Flemming, who, +though he never danced, yet, like Henry of Ofterdingen, in the Romance +of Novalis, thought to music. The wheeling waltz set the wheels of his +fancy going. And thus the moments glided on, and the footsteps of Time +were not heard amid the sound of music and voices. + +But suddenly this scene of gayety was interrupted. The door opened +wide; and the short figure of a gray-haired old man presented itself, +with a flushed countenance and wild eyes. He was but half-dressed, and +in his hand held a silver candlestick without a light. A sheet was +wound round his head, like a turban; and he tottered forward with a +vacant, bewildered look, exclaiming; + +"I am Mahomet, the king of the Jews!" + +At the same moment he fell in a swoon; and was borne out of the room by +the servants. Flemming looked at the lady of the festival, and she was +deadly pale. For a moment all was confusion; and the dance and the +music stopped. Theimpression produced on the company was at once +ludicrous and awful. They tried in vain to rally. The whole society was +like a dead body, from which the spirit has departed. Ere long the +guests had all dispersed, and left the lady of the mansion to her +mournful, expiring lamps, and still more mournful reflections. + +"Truly," said Flemming, to the Baron, as they wended their way +homeward, "this seems not like reality; but like one of the sharp +contrasts we find in novels. Who shall say, after this, that there is +not more romance in real life, than we find written in books!" + +"Not more romance," said the Baron, "but a different romance." + +A still more tragic scene had been that evening enacted in Heidelberg. +Just as the sun set, two female figures walked along the romantic +woodland path-way, leading to the Angel's Meadow, a little green +opening on the brow of one of the high hills, which see themselves in +the Neckar and hear the solemn bells of Kloster-Neuburg. The evening +shadows were falling broad and long; and the cuckoo began to sing. + +"Cuckoo! Cuckoo!" said the eldest of the two figures, repeating an old +German popular rhyme, + +`Cuckoo! Cuckoo! + +Tell me true, + +Tell me fair and fine, + +How long must I unmarried pine!' " + +It was the voice of an evil spirit, that spoke in the person of +Madeleine; and the pale and shrinking figure, that walked by her side, +and listened to those words, was Emma of Ilmenau. A young man joined +them, where the path turns into the thick woodlands; and they +disappeared among the shadowy branches. It was the Polish Count. + +The forget-me-nots looked up to heaven with their meek blue eyes, from +their home in the Angel's Meadow. Calmly stood the mountain of +All-Saints, in its majestic, holy stillness;--the river flowed so far +below, that the murmur of itswaters was not heard;--there was not a +sigh of the evening wind among the leaves,--not a sound upon the earth +nor in the air;--and yet that night there fell a star from heaven! + + + + +CHAPTER X. THE PARTING. + +It was now that season of the year, which an old English writer calls +the amiable month of June, and at that hour of the day, when, face to +face, the rising moon beholds the setting sun. As yet the stars were +few in heaven. But, after the heat of the day, the coolness and the +twilight descended like a benediction upon the earth, by all those +gentle sounds attended, which are the meek companions of the night. + +Flemming and the Baron had passed the afternoon at the Castle. They had +rambled once more together, and for the last time, over the magnificent +ruin. On the morrow they were to part, perhaps forever. The Baron was +going to Berlin, to join his sister; and Flemming, drivenforward by the +restless spirit within him, longed once more for a change of scene, and +was going to the Tyrol and Switzerland. Alas! he never said to the +passing hour; "Stay, for thou art fair!" but reached forward into the +dark future, with unsatisfied longings and aimless desires, that were +never still. + +As the day was closing, they sat down on the terrace of Elisabeth's +Garden. The sun had set beyond the blue Alsatian hills; and on the +valley of the Rhine fell the purple mist, like the mantle of the +departing prophet from his fiery chariot. Over the castle walls, and +the trees of the garden, rose the large moon; and between the +contending daylight and moonlight there were as yet no shadows. But at +length the shadows came; transparent and faint outlines, that deepened +into form. In the valley below only the river gleamed, like steel; and +here and there the lamps were lighted in the town. Solemnly stood the +leafy lindentrees in the garden near them, their trunks in darkness and +their summits bronzed with moonlight; and in his niche in the great +round tower, overhung with ivy, like a majestic phantom, stood the gray +statue of Louis, with his venerable beard, and shirt of mail, and +flowing mantle; and the mild, majestic countenance looked forth into +the silent night, as the countenance of a seer, who reads the stars. At +intervals the wind of the summer night passed through the ruined castle +and the trees, and they sent forth a sound as if nature were sighing in +her dreams; and for a moment overhead the broad leaves gently clashed +together, like brazen cymbals, with a tinkling sound; and then all was +still, save the sweet, passionate song of nightingales, that nowhere +upon earth sing more sweetly than in the gardens of Heidelberg Castle. + +The hour, the scene, and the near-approaching separation of the two +young friends, had filled their hearts with a pleasant, though at the +same time not painless excitement. They had been conversing about the +magnificent old ruin, and the ages in which it had been built, and the +vicissitudesof time and war, that had battered down its walls, and left +it "tenantless, save to the crannying wind." + +"How sorrowful and sublime is the face of that statue yonder," said +Flemming. "It reminds me of the old Danish hero Beowulf; for careful, +sorrowing, he seeth in his son's bower the wine-hall deserted, the +resort of the wind, noiseless; the knight sleepeth; the warrior lieth +in darkness; there is no noise of the harp, no joy in the dwellings, as +there was before." + +"Even as you say," replied the Baron; "but it often astonishes me, +that, coming from that fresh green world of yours beyond the sea, you +should feel so much interest in these old things; nay, at times, seem +so to have drunk in their spirit, as really to live in the times of +old. For my part, I do not see what charm there is in the pale and +wrinkled countenance of the Past, so to entice the soul of a young man. +It seems to me like falling in love with one's grandmother. Give me the +Present;--warm, glowing, palpitating with life. She is my mistress; and +the Future stands waiting like my wife that is to be, for whom, to tell +the truth, I care very little just now. Indeed, my friend, I wish you +would take more heed of this philosophy of mine; and not waste the +golden hours of youth in vain regrets for the past, and indefinite, dim +longings for the future. Youth comes but once in a lifetime." + +"Therefore," said Flemming; "let us so enjoy it as to be still young +when we are old. For my part, I grow happier as I grow older. When I +compare my sensations and enjoyments now, with what they were ten years +ago, the comparison is vastly in favor of the present. Much of the +fever and fretfulness of life is over. The world and I look each other +more calmly in the face. My mind is more self-possessed. It has done me +good to be somewhat parched by the heat and drenched by the rain of +life." + +"Now you speak like an old philosopher," answered the Baron, laughing. +"But you deceive yourself. I never knew a more restless, feverishspirit +than yours. Do not think you have gained the mastery yet. You are only +riding at anchor here in an eddy of the stream; you will soon be swept +away again in the mighty current and whirl of accident. Do not trust +this momentary calm. I know you better than you know yourself. There is +something Faust-like in you; you would fain grasp the highest and the +deepest; and `reel from desire to enjoyment, and in enjoyment languish +for desire.' When a momentary change of feeling comes over you, you +think the change permanent, and thus live in constant self-deception." + +"I confess," said Flemming, "there may be some truth in what you say. +There are times when my soul is restless; and a voice sounds within me, +like the trump of the archangel, and thoughts that were buried, long +ago, come out of their graves. At such times my favorite occupations +and pursuits no longer charm me. The quiet face of Nature seems to mock +me." + +"There certainly are seasons," replied the Baron, "when Nature seems +not to sympathizewith her beloved children. She sits there so eternally +calm and self-possessed, so very motherly and serene, and cares so +little whether the heart of her child breaks or not, that at times I +almost lose my patience. About that, too, she cares so little, that, +out of sheer obstinacy, I become good-humored again, and then she +smiles." + +"I think we must confess, however," continued Flemming, "that all this +springs from our own imperfection, not from hers. How beautiful is this +green world, which we inhabit! See yonder, how the moonlight mingles +with the mist! What a glorious night is this! Truly every man has a +Paradise around him until he sins, and the angel of an accusing +conscience drives him from his Eden. And even then there are holy +hours, when this angel sleeps, and man comes back, and, with the +innocent eyes of a child, looks into his lost Paradise again,--into the +broad gates and rural solitudes of Nature. I feel this often. We have +much to enjoy in the quiet and retirement of ourown thoughts. +Boisterous mirth and loud laughter are not my mood. I love that +tranquillity of soul, in which we feel the blessing of existence, and +which in itself is a prayer and a thanksgiving. I find, however, that, +as I grow older, I love the country less, and the city more." + +"Yes," interrupted the Baron; "and presently you will love the city +less and the country more. Say at once, that you have an undefined +longing for both; and prefer town or country, according to the mood you +are in. I think a man must be of a very quiet and happy nature, who can +long endure the country; and, moreover, very well contented with his +own insignificant person, very self-complacent, to be continually +occupied with himself and his own thoughts. To say the least, a city +life makes one more tolerant and liberal in his judgment of others. One +is not eternally wrapped up in self-contemplation; which, after all, is +only a more holy kind of vanity." + +In conversation like this, the hours glided away; till at length, from +the Giant's Tower, the Castleclock struck twelve, with a sound that +seemed to come from the Middle Ages. Like watchmen from their belfries +the city clocks answered it, one by one. Then distant and muffled +sounds were heard. Inarticulate words seemed to blot the foggy air, as +if written on wet paper. These were the bells of Handschuhsheimer, and +of other villages on the broad plain of the Rhine, and among the hills +of the Odenwald; mysterious sounds, that seemed not of this world. + +Beneath them, in the shadow of the hills, lay the valley, like a +fathomless, black gulf; and above were the cloistered stars, that, +nun-like, walk the holy aisles of heaven. The city was asleep in the +valley below; all asleep and silent, save the clocks, that had just +struck twelve, and the veering, golden weathercocks, that were swimming +in the moonshine, like golden fishes, in a glass vase. And again the +wind of the summer night passed through the old Castle, and the trees, +and the nightingales recorded under the dark, shadowy leaves, and the +heart of Flemming was full. + +When he had retired to his chamber, a feeling of utter loneliness came +over him. The night before one begins a journey is always a dismal +night; for, as Byron says, + +"In leaving even the most unpleasant people + +And places, one keeps looking at the steeple!" + +And how much more so when the place and people are pleasant; as was the +case with those, that Flemming was now leaving. No wonder he was sad +and sleepless. Thoughts came and went, and bright and gloomy fancies, +and dreams and visions, and sweet faces looked under his closed +eyelids, and vanished away, and came again, and again departed. He +heard the clock strike from hour to hour, and said, "Another hour is +gone." At length the birds began to sing; and ever and anon the cock +crew. He arose, and looked forth into the gray dawn; and before him lay +the city he was so soon to leave, all white and ghastly, like a city +that had arisen from its grave. + +"All things must change," said he to the Baron, as he embraced him, and +held him by the hand."Friends must be torn asunder, and swept along in +the current of events, to see each other seldom, and perchance no more. +For ever and ever in the eddies of time and accident we whirl away. +Besides which, some of us have a perpetual motion in our wooden heads, +as Wodenblock had in his wooden leg; and like him we travel on, without +rest or sleep, and have hardly time to take a friend by the hand in +passing; and at length are seen hurrying through some distant land, +worn to a skeleton, and all unknown." + + + + +BOOK III. + + + + +Epigraph + +"Take away the lights, too; + +The moon lends me too much to find my fears; + +And those devotions I am now to pay, + +Are written in my heart, not in thy book; + +And I shall read them there without a taper." + + + + +CHAPTER I. SUMMER-TIME. + +They were right,--those old German Minnesingers,--to sing the pleasant +summer-time! What a time it is! How June stands illuminated in the +Calendar! The windows are all wide open; only the Venetian blinds +closed. Here and there a long streak of sunshine streams in through a +crevice. We hear the low sound of the wind among the trees; and, as it +swells and freshens, the distant doors clap to, with a sudden sound. +The trees are heavy with leaves; and the gardens full of blossoms, red +and white. The whole atmosphere is laden with perfume and sunshine. The +birds sing. The cock struts about, and crows loftily. Insects chirp in +the grass. Yellow butter-cups stud the green carpet like golden +buttons, and the red blossoms of the clover like rubies. The elm-trees +reach their long, pendulous branches almost to the ground. White clouds +sail aloft; and vapors fret the blue sky with silver threads. The white +village gleams afar against the dark hills. Through the meadow winds +the river,--careless, indolent. It seems to love the country, and is in +no haste to reach the sea. The bee only is at work,--the hot and angry +bee. All things else are at play; he never plays, and is vexed that any +one should. + +People drive out from town to breathe, and to be happy. Most of them +have flowers in their hands; bunches of apple-blossoms, and still +oftener lilacs. Ye denizens of the crowded city, how pleasant to you is +the change from the sultry streets to the open fields, fragrant with +clover-blossoms! how pleasant the fresh, breezy country air, dashed +with brine from the meadows! howpleasant, above all, the flowers, the +manifold, beautiful flowers! + +It is no longer day. Through the trees rises the red moon, and the +stars are scarcely seen. In the vast shadow of night, the coolness and +the dews descend. I sit at the open window to enjoy them; and hear only +the voice of the summer wind. Like black hulks, the shadows of the +great trees ride at anchor on the billowy sea of grass. I cannot see +the red and blue flowers, but I know that they are there. Far away in +the meadow gleams the silver Charles. The tramp of horses' hoofs sounds +from the wooden bridge. Then all is still, save the continuous wind of +the summer night. Sometimes I know not if it be the wind or the sound +of the neighbouring sea. The village clock strikes; and I feel that I +am not alone. + +How different is it in the city! It is late, and the crowd is gone. You +step out upon the balcony, and lie in the very bosom of the cool, dewy +night, as if you folded her garments about you. The whole starry heaven +is spread out overhead. Beneath lies the public walk with trees, like a +fathomless, black gulf, into whose silent darkness the spirit plunges +and floats away, with some beloved spirit clasped in its embrace. The +lamps are still burning up and down the long street. People go by, with +grotesque shadows, now foreshortened and now lengthening away into the +darkness and vanishing, while a new one springs up behind the walker, +and seems to pass him on the sidewalk. The iron gates of the park shut +with a jangling clang. There are footsteps, and loud voices;--a +tumult,--a drunken brawl,--an alarm of fire;--then silence again. And +now at length the city is asleep, and we can see the night. The belated +moon looks over the roofs, and finds no one to welcome her. The +moonlight is broken. It lies here and there in the squares, and the +opening of streets,--angular, like blocks of white marble. + +Under such a green, triumphal arch, O Reader! with the odor of flowers +about thee, and the song of birds, shalt thou pass onward into the +enchanted land, as through the Ivory Gate of dreams! And as a prelude +and majestic march, one sweet human voice, I know not whose, but coming +from the bosom of the Alps, sings this sublime ode, which the Alpine +echoes repeat afar. + +"Come, golden Evening! In the west + +Enthrone the storm-dispelling sun, + +And let the triple rainbow rest + +O'er all the mountain tops;--'t is done; + +The tempest ceases; bold and bright, + +The rainbow shoots from hill to hill; + +Down sinks the sun; on presses night; + +Mont Blanc is lovely still! + +"There take thy stand, my spirit;--spread + +The world of shadows at thy feet; + +And mark how calmly overhead, + +The stars, like saints in glory, meet. + +While, hid in solitude sublime, + +Methinks I muse on Nature's tomb, + +And hear the passing foot of Time + +Step through the silent gloom. + +"All in a moment, crash on crash, + +From precipice to precipice, + +An avalanche's ruins dash + +Down to the nethermost abyss, + +Invisible; the ear alone + +Pursues the uproar till it dies; + +Echo to Echo, groan for groan, + +From deep to deep, replies. + +"Silence again the darkness seals, + +Darkness that may be felt;--but soon + +The silver-clouded east reveals + +The midnight spectre of the moon; + +In half-eclipse she lifts her horn, + +Yet, o'er the host of heaven supreme, + +Brings the faint semblance of a morn, + +With her awakening beam. + +"Ah! at her touch, these Alpine heights + +Unreal mockeries appear; + +With blacker shadows, ghastlier lights, + +Emerging as she climbs the sphere; + +A crowd of apparitions pale! + +I hold my breath in chill suspense, + +They seem so exquisitely frail, + +Lest they should vanish hence. + +"I breathe again, I freely breathe; + +Thee, Leman's Lake, once more I trace, + +Like Dian's crescent far beneath, + +As beautiful as Dian's face: + +Pride of the land that gave me birth! + +All that thy waves reflect I love, + +Where heaven itself, brought down to earth, + +Looks fairer than above. + +"Safe on thy banks again I stray; + +The trance of poesy is o'er, + +And I am here at dawn of day, + +Gazing on mountains as before, + +Where all the strange mutations wrought, + +Were magic feats of my own mind; + +For, in that fairy land of thought, + +Whate'er I seek, I find." + + + + +CHAPTER II. FOOT-TRAVELLING. + +Tell me, my soul, why art thou restless? Why dost thou look forward to +the future with such strong desire? The present is thine,--and the +past;--and the future shall be! O that thou didst look forward to the +great hereafter with half the longing wherewith thou longest for an +earthly future,--which a few days at most will bring thee! to the +meeting of the dead, as to the meeting of the absent! Thou glorious +spirit-land! O, that I could behold thee as thou art,--the region of +life, and light, and love, and the dwelling-place of those beloved +ones, whose being has flowed onward like a silver-clear stream into the +solemn-sounding main, into the ocean of Eternity. + +Such were the thoughts that passed through thesoul of Flemming, as he +lay in utter solitude and silence on the rounded summit of one of the +mountains of the Furca Pass, and gazed, with tears in his eyes, and +ardent longing in his heart, up into the blue-swimming heaven overhead, +and at the glaciers and snowy mountain-peaks around him. Highest and +whitest of all, stood the peak of the Jungfrau, which seemed near him, +though it rose afar off from the bosom of the Lauterbrunner Thal. There +it stood, holy and high and pure, the bride of heaven, all veiled and +clothed in white, and lifted the thoughts of the beholder heavenward. +O, he little thought then, as he gazed at it with longing and delight, +how soon a form was to arise in his own soul, as holy, and high, and +pure as this, and like this point heavenward. + +Thus lay the traveller on the mountain summit, reposing his weary limbs +on the short, brown grass, which more resembled moss than grass. He had +sent his guide forward, that he might be alone. His soul within him was +wild with a fierce and painful delight. The mountain air excited him; +the mountain solitudes enticed, yet maddened him. Every peak, every +sharp, jagged iceberg, seemed to pierce him. The silence was awful and +sublime. It was like that in the soul of a dying man, when he hears no +more the sounds of earth. He seemed to be laying aside his earthly +garments. The heavens were near unto him; but between him and heaven +every evil deed he had done arose gigantic, like those mountain-peaks, +and breathed an icy breath upon him. O, let not the soul that suffers, +dare to look Nature in the face, where she sits majestically aloft in +the solitude of the mountains; for her face is hard and stern, and +looks not in compassion upon her weak and erring child. It is the +countenance of an accusing archangel, who summons us to judgment. In +the valley she wears the countenance of a Virgin Mother, looking at us +with tearful eyes, and a face of pity and love! + +But yesterday Flemming had come up the valley of the Saint Gothard +Pass, through Amsteg, where the Kerstelenbach comes dashing down the +Maderaner Thal, from its snowy cradle overhead. The road is steep, and +runs on zigzag terraces. The sides of the mountains are barren cliffs; +and from their cloud-capped summits, unheard amid the roar of the great +torrent below, come streams of snowwhite foam, leaping from rock to +rock, like the mountain chamois. As you advance, the scene grows wilder +and more desolate. There is not a tree in sight,--not a human +habitation. Clouds, black as midnight, lower upon you from the ravines +overhead; and the mountain torrent beneath is but a sheet of foam, and +sends up an incessant roar. A sudden turn in the road brings you in +sight of a lofty bridge, stepping from cliff to cliff with a single +stride. A fearful cataract howls beneath it, like an evil spirit, and +fills the air with mist; and the mountain wind claps its hands and +shrieks through the narrow pass, Ha! ha!--This is the Devil's Bridge. +It leads the traveller across the fearful chasm, and through a mountain +gallery into the broad, green, silent meadow of Andermath. + +Even the sunny morning, which followed thisgloomy day, had not chased +the desolate impression from the soul of Flemming. His excitement +increased as he lost himself more and more among the mountains; and +now, as he lay all alone on the summit of the sunny hill, with only +glaciers and snowy peaks about him, his soul, as I have said, was wild +with a fierce and painful delight. + +A human voice broke his reverie. He looked, and beheld at a short +distance from him, the athletic form of a mountain herdsman, who was +approaching the spot where he lay. He was a young man, clothed in a +rustic garb, and holding a long staff in his hand. When Flemming rose, +he stood still, and gazed at him, as if he loved the face of man, even +in a stranger, and longed to hear a human voice, though it might speak +in an unknown tongue. He answered Flemming's salutation in a rude +mountain dialect, and in reply to his questions said; + +"I, with two others, have charge of two hundred head of cattle on these +mountains. Throughthe two summer months we remain here night and day; +for which we receive each a Napoleon." + +Flemming gave him half his summer wages. He was glad to do a good deed +in secret, and yet so near heaven. The man received it as his due, like +a toll-keeper; and soon after departed, leaving the traveller alone. +And the traveller went his way down the mountain, as one distraught. He +stopped only to pluck one bright blue flower, which bloomed all alone +in the vast desert, and looked up at him, as if to say; "O take me with +you! leave me not here companionless!" + +Ere long he reached the magnificent glacier of the Rhone; a frozen +cataract, more than two thousand feet in height, and many miles broad +at its base. It fills the whole valley between two mountains, running +back to their summits. At the base it is arched, like a dome; and +above, jagged and rough, and resembles a mass of gigantic crystals, of +a pale emerald tint, mingled with white. A snowy crust covers its +surface; but at every rent and crevice the pale green ice shines clear +in thesun. Its shape is that of a glove, lying with the palm downwards, +and the fingers crooked and close together. It is a gauntlet of ice, +which, centuries ago, Winter, the King of these mountains, threw down +in defiance to the Sun; and year by year the Sun strives in vain to +lift it from the ground on the point of his glittering spear. A feeling +of wonder and delight came over the soul of Flemming when he beheld it, +and he shouted and cried aloud; + +"How wonderful! how glorious!" + +After lingering a few hours in the cold, desolate valley, he climbed in +the afternoon the steep Mayen-Wand, on the Grimsel, passed the Lake of +the Dead, with its ink-black waters; and through the melting snow, and +over slippery stepping-stones in the beds of numberless shallow brooks, +descended to the Grimsel Hospital, where he passed the night, and +thought it the most lone and desolate spot, that man ever slept in. + +On the morrow, he rose with the day; and the rising sun found him +already standing on the rusticbridge, which hangs over the verge of the +Falls of the Aar at Handeck, where the river pitches down a precipice +into a narrow and fearful abyss, shut in by perpendicular cliffs. At +right angles with it comes the beautiful Aerlenbach; and halfway down +the double cascade mingles into one. Thus he pursued his way down the +Hasli Thal into the Bernese Oberland, restless, impatient, he knew not +why, stopping seldom, and never long, and then rushing forward again, +like the rushing river whose steps he followed, and in whose ice-cold +waters ever and anon he bathed his wrists, to cool the fever in his +blood; for the noonday sun was hot. + +His heart dilated in the dilating valley, that grew broader and greener +at every step. The sight of human faces and human dwellings soothed +him; and through the fields of summer grain, in the broad meadows of +Imgrund, he walked with a heart that ached no more, but trembled only, +as our eyelids when we have done weeping. As he climbed the opposite +hill, which hems in this romanticvalley, and, like a heavy yoke, chafes +the neck of the Aar, he believed the ancient tradition, which says, +that once the valley was a lake. From the summit of the hill he looked +southward upon a beautiful landscape of gardens, and fields of grain, +and woodlands, and meadows, and the ancient castle of Resti, looking +down upon Meyringen. And now all around him were the singing of birds, +and grateful shadows of the leafy trees; and sheeted waterfalls +dropping from the woodland cliffs, seen only, but unheard, the fluted +columns breaking into mist, and fretted with frequent spires and +ornaments of foam, and not unlike the towers of a Gothic church +inverted. There, in one white sheet of foam, the Riechenbach pours down +into its deep beaker, into which the sun never shines. Face to face it +beholds the Alpbach falling from the opposite hill, "like a downward +smoke." When Flemming saw the innumerable runnels, sliding down the +mountain-side, and leaping, all life and gladness, he would fain have +clasped them in his arms and been their playmate, and revelled withthem +in their freedom and delight. Yet he was weary with the day's journey, +and entered the village of Meyringen, embowered in cherry-trees, which +were then laden with fruit, more like a way-worn traveller than an +enthusiastic poet. As he went up the tavern steps he said in his heart, +with the Italian Aretino; "He who has not been at a tavern, knows not +what a paradise it is. O holy tavern! O miraculous tavern! holy, +because no carking cares are there, nor weariness, nor pain; and +miraculous, because of the spits, which of themselves turn round and +round! Of a truth all courtesy and good manners come from taverns, so +full of bows, and Signor, sì! and Signor, nò!" + +But even in the tavern he could not rest long. The same evening at +sunset he was floating on the lake of Brienz, in an open boat, close +under the cascade of the Giessbach, hearing the peasants sing the Ranz +des Vaches. He slept that night at the other extremity of the lake, in +a large house, which, like Saint Peter's at Joppa, stood by the water's +side. The next day he wasted inwriting letters, musing in this green +nest, and paddling about the lake again; and in the evening went across +the beautiful meadows to Interlachen, where many things happened to +him, and detained him long. + + + + +CHAPTER III. INTERLACHEN. + +Interlachen! How peacefully, by the margin of the swift-rushing Aar, +thou liest, on the broad lap of those romantic meadows, all +overshadowed by the wide arms of giant trees! Only the round towers of +thine ancient cloister rise above their summits; the round towers +themselves, but a child's playthings under the great church-towers of +the mountains. Close beside thee are lakes, which the flowing band of +the river ties together. Before thee opens the magnificent valley of +Lauterbrunn, where the cloud-hooded Monk and pale Virgin stand like +Saint Francis and his Bride of Snow; and all around thee are fields, +and orchards, and hamlets green, from which the church-bells answer +each other at evening! The eveningsun was setting when I first beheld +thee! The sun of life will set ere I forget thee! Surely it was a scene +like this, that inspired the soul of the Swiss poet, in his Song of the +Bell! + +"Bell! thou soundest merrily, + +When the bridal party + +To the church doth hie! + +Bell! thou soundest solemnly, + +When, on Sabbath morning, + +Fields deserted lie! + +"Bell! thou soundest merrily; + +Tellest thou at evening, + +Bed-time draweth nigh! + +Bell! thou soundest mournfully; + +Tellest thou the bitter + +Parting hath gone by! + +"Say! how canst thou mourn? + +How canst thou rejoice? + +Art but metal dull! + +And yet all our sorrowings, + +And all our rejoicings, + +Thou dost feel them all! + +"God hath wonders many, + +Which we cannot fathom, + +Placed within thy form! + +When the heart is sinking, + +Thou alone canst raise it, + +Trembling in the storm!" + +Paul Flemming alighted at one of the principal hotels. The landlord +came out to meet him. He had great eyes and a green coat; and reminded +Flemming of the innkeeper mentioned in the Golden Ass, who had been +changed by magic into a frog, and croaked to his customers from the +lees of a wine-cask. His house, he said, was full; and so was every +house in Interlachen; but, if the gentleman would walk into the +parlour, he would procure a chamber for him, in the neighbourhood. + +On the sofa sat a gentleman, reading; a stout gentleman of perhaps +forty-five, round, ruddy, and with a head, which, being a little bald +on the top, looked not unlike a crow's nest, with one egg in it. A +good-humored face turned from the book as Flemming entered; and a +good-humored voice exclaimed; + +"Ha! ha! Mr. Flemming! Is it you, or your apparition! I told you we +should meet again! though you were for taking an eternal farewell of +your fellow-traveller." + +Saying these words, the stout gentleman rose and shook Flemming +heartily by the hand. And Flemming returned the shake as heartily, +recognising in this ruddy personage, a former travelling companion, Mr. +Berkley, whom he had left, a week or two previous, toiling up the +Righi. Mr. Berkley was an Englishman of fortune; a good-humored, humane +old bachelor; remarkable alike for his common sense and his +eccentricity. That is to say, the basis of his character was good, +sound common sense, trodden down and smoothed by education; but this +level groundwork his strange and whimsical fancy used as a +dancing-floor, whereon to exhibit her eccentric tricks. His ruling +passion was cold-bathing; and he usually ate his breakfast sitting in a +tub of cold water, and reading a newspaper. He kissed every child he +met; and to every old man, said in passing, "God bless you!" with such +an expression of voice and countenance, that no one could doubt his +sincerity. He reminded one of Roger Bontemps, or the Little Man in +Gray; though with a difference. + +"The last time I had the pleasure of seeing you, Mr. Berkley," said +Flemming, "was at Goldau, just as you were going up the Righi. I hope +you were gratified with a fine sunrise on the mountain top." + +"No, Sir, I was not!" replied Mr. Berkley. "It is all a humbug! a +confounded humbug! They made such a noise about their sunrise, that I +determined I would not see it. So I lay snug in bed; and only peeped +through the window curtain. That was enough. Just above the house, on +the top of the hill, stood some fifty half-dressed, romantic +individuals, shivering in the wet grass; and, a short distance from +them, a miserable wretch, blowing a long, wooden horn. That's your +sunrise on the Righi, is it? said I; and went to sleep again. The best +thing I saw at the Culm, was the advertisement on the bed-room doors, +saying, that, if the ladies would wear the quilts and blankets for +shawls, when they went out to see the sunrise, they must pay for the +washing. Take my word for it, the Righi is a great humbug!" + +"Where have you been since?" + +"At Zurich and Schaffhausen. If you go to Zurich, beware how you stop +at the Raven. They will cheat you. They cheated me; but I had my +revenge, for, when we reached Schaffhausen, I wrote in the Traveller's +Book; + +Beware of the Raven of Zurich! + +'T is a bird of omen ill; + +With a noisy and an unclean nest, + +And a very, very long bill. + +If you go to the Golden Falken you will find it there. I am the author +of those lines!" + +"Bitter as Juvenal!" exclaimed Flemming. + +"Not in the least bitter," said Mr. Berkley. "It is all true. Go to the +Raven and see. But this Interlachen! this Interlachen! It is the +loveliest spot on the face of the earth," he continued, stretching out +both arms, as if to embrace the objectof his affection. "There,--only +look out there!" + +Here he pointed to the window. Flemming looked, and beheld a scene of +transcendent beauty. The plain was covered already by the brown shade +of the summer twilight. From the cottage roofs in Unterseen rose here +and there a thin column of smoke over the tops of the trees and mingled +with the evening shadows. The Valley of Lauterbrunnen was filled with a +blue haze. Far above, in the clear, cloudless heaven, the white +forehead of the Jungfrau blushed at the last kiss of the departing sun. +It was a glorious Transfiguration of Nature! And when the village bells +began to ring, and a single voice at a great distance was heard yodling +forth a ballad, it rather broke than increased the enchantment of a +scene, where silence was more musical than sound. + +For a long time they gazed at the gloaming landscape, and spake not. At +length people came into the parlour, and laid aside their shawls and +hats, and exchanged a word or two with Berkley to Flemming they were +all unknown. To him it was all Mr. Brown and Mrs. Johnson, and nothing +more. The conversation turned upon the various excursions of the day. +Some had been at the Staubbach, others at the Grindelwald; others at +the Lake of Thun; and nobody before had ever experienced half the +rapture, which they had experienced that day. And thus they sat in the +twilight, as people love to do, at the close of a summer day. As yet +the lamps had not been lighted; and one could not distinguish faces; +but voices only, and forms, like shadows. + +Presently a female figure, clothed in black, entered the room and sat +down by the window. She rather listened to the conversation, than +joined in it; but the few words she said were spoken in a voice so +musical and full of soul, that it moved the soul of Flemming, like a +whisper from heaven. + +O, how wonderful is the human voice! It is indeed the organ of the +soul! The intellect of man sits enthroned visibly upon his forehead and +in his eye; and the heart of man is written uponhis countenance. But +the soul reveals itself in the voice only; as God revealed himself to +the prophet of old in the still, small voice; and in a voice from the +burning bush. The soul of man is audible, not visible. A sound alone +betrays the flowing of the eternal fountain, invisible to man! + +Flemming would fain have sat and listened for hours to the sound of +that unknown voice. He felt sure, in his secret heart, that the being +from whom it came was beautiful. His imagination filled up the faint +outline, which the eye beheld in the fading twilight, and the figure +stood already in his mind, like Raphael's beautiful Madonna in the +Dresden gallery. He was never more mistaken in his life. The voice +belonged to a beautiful being, it is true; but her beauty was different +from that of any Madonna which Raphael ever painted; as he would have +seen, had he waited till the lamps were lighted. But in the midst of +his reverie and saint-painting, the landlord came in, andtold him he +had found a chamber, which he begged him to go and look at. + +Flemming took his leave and departed. Berkley went with him, to see, he +said, what kind of a nest his young friend was to sleep in. + +"The chamber is not what I could wish," said the landlord, as he led +them across the street. "It is in the old cloister. But to-morrow or +next day, you can no doubt have a room at the house." + +The name of the cloister struck Flemming's imagination pleasantly. He +was owl enough to like ruins and old chambers, where nuns or friars had +slept. And he said to Berkley; + +"So, you perceive, my nest is to be in a cloister. It already makes me +think of a bird's-nest I once saw on an old tower of Heidelberg castle, +built in the jaws of a lion, which formerly served as a spout. But pray +tell me, who was that young lady, with the soft voice?" + +"What young lady with the soft voice?" + +"The young lady in black, who sat by the window." + +"O, she is the daughter of an English officer, who died not long ago at +Naples. She is passing the summer here with her mother, for her +health." + +"What is her name?" + +"Ashburton." + +"Is she beautiful?" + +"Not in the least; but very intellectual. A woman of genius, I should +say." + +And now they had reached the walls of the cloister, and passed under an +arched gateway, and close beneath the round towers, which Flemming had +already seen, rising with their cone-shaped roofs above the trees, like +tall tapers, with extinguishers upon them. + +"It is not so bad, as it looks," said the landlord, knocking at a small +door, in the main building. "The Bailiff lives in one part of it." + +A servant girl, with a candle in her hand, opened the door, and +conducted Flemming and Berkley to the chamber which had been engaged. +It was a large room on the lower floor, wainscoted with pine, and +unpainted. Three lofty and narrowwindows, with leaden lattices and +small panes, looked southward towards the valley of Lauterbrunnen and +the mountains. In one corner was a large square bed, with a tester and +checked curtains. In another, a huge stove of painted tiles, reaching +almost to the ceiling. An old sofa, a few high-backed antique chairs, +and a table, completed the furniture of the room. + +Thus Flemming took possession of his monkish cell and dormitory. He +ordered tea, and began to feel at home. Berkley passed the evening with +him. On going away he said; + +"Good night! I leave you to the care of the Virgin and all the Saints. +If the ghost of any old monk comes back after his prayer-book, my +compliments to him. If I were a younger man, you certainly should see a +ghost. Good night!" + +When he had departed, Flemming opened the lattice of one of the +windows. The moon had risen, and silvered the dark outline of the +nearest hills; while, afar off, the snowy summits of the Jungfrau and +the Silver-Horn shone like a white cloud in the sky. Close beneath the +windows was a flower-garden; and the breath of the summer night came to +him with dewy fragrance. There was a grateful seclusion about the +place. He blessed the happy accident, which gave him such a lodging, +and fell asleep that night thinking of the nuns, who once had slept in +the same quiet cells; but neither wimpled nun nor cowled monk appeared +to him in his dreams; not even the face of Mary Ashburton; nor did he +hear her voice. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. THE EVENING AND THE MORNING STAR. + +Old Froissart tells us, in his Chronicles, that when King Edward beheld +the Countess of Salisbury at her castle gate, he thought he had never +seen before so noble nor so fair a lady; he was stricken therewith to +the heart with a sparkle of fine love, that endured long after; he +thought no lady in the world so worthy to be beloved, as she. And so +likewise thought Paul Flemming, when he beheld the English lady in the +fair light of a summer morning. I will not disguise the truth. She is +my heroine; and I mean to describe her with great truth and beauty, so +that all shall be in love with her, and I most of all. + +Mary Ashburton was in her twentieth summer. Like the fair maiden +Amoret, she was sitting inthe lap of womanhood. They did her wrong, who +said she was not beautiful; and yet + +"she was not fair, + +Nor beautiful;--those words express her not. + +But O, her looks had something excellent, + +That wants a name!" + +Her face had a wonderful fascination in it. It was such a calm, quiet +face, with the light of the rising soul shining so peacefully through +it. At times it wore an expression of seriousness,--of sorrow even; and +then seemed to make the very air bright with what the Italian poets so +beautifully call the lampeggiar dell' angelico riso,--the lightning of +the angelic smile. + +And O, those eyes,--those deep, unutterable eyes, with "down-falling +eyelids, full of dreams and slumber," and within them a cold, living +light, as in mountain lakes at evening, or in the river of Paradise, +forever gliding, + +"with a brown, brown current + +Under the shade perpetual, that never + +Ray of the sun lets in, nor of the moon." + +I dislike an eye that twinkles like a star. Those only are beautiful +which, like the planets, have a steady, lambent light;--are luminous, +but not sparkling. Such eyes the Greek poets give to the Immortals. But +I forget myself. + +The lady's figure was striking. Every step, every attitude was +graceful, and yet lofty, as if inspired by the soul within. Angels in +the old poetic philosophy have such forms; it was the soul itself +imprinted on the air. And what a soul was hers! A temple dedicated to +Heaven, and, like the Pantheon at Rome, lighted only from above. And +earthly passions in the form of gods were no longer there, but the +sweet and thoughtful faces of Christ, and the Virgin Mary, and the +Saints. Thus there was not one discordant thing in her; but a perfect +harmony of figure, and face, and soul, in a word of the whole being. +And he who had a soul to comprehend hers, must of necessity love her, +and, having once loved her, could love no other woman forevermore. + +No wonder, then, that Flemming felt his heartdrawn towards her, as, in +her morning walk, she passed him, sitting alone under the great walnut +trees near the cloister, and thinking of Heaven, but not of her. She, +too, was alone. Her cheek was no longer pale; but glowing and bright, +with the inspiration of the summer air. Flemming gazed after her till +she disappeared, even as a vision of his dreams, he knew not whither. +He was not yet in love, but very near it; for he thanked God, that he +had made such beautiful beings to walk the earth. + +Last night he had heard a voice to which his soul responded; and he +might have gone on his way, and taken no farther heed. But he would +have heard that voice afterwards, whenever at evening he thought of +this evening at Interlachen. To-day he had seen more clearly the +vision, and his restless soul calm. The place seemed pleasant to him; +and he could not go. He did not ask himself whence came this calm. He +felt it; and was happy in the feeling; and blessed thelandscape and the +summer morning, as if they possessed the wonder-working power. + +"A pleasant morning dream to you;" said a friendly voice; and at the +same moment some one laid his hand upon Flemming's shoulder. It was +Berkley. He had approached unseen and unheard. + +"I see by the smile on your countenance," he continued, "that it is no +day-incubus." + +"You are right," replied Flemming. "It was a pleasant dream, which you +have put to flight." + +"And I am glad to see, that you have also put to flight the gloomy +thoughts which used to haunt you. I like to see people cheerful and +happy. What is the use of giving way to sadness in this beautiful +world?" + +"Ah! this beautiful world!" said Flemming, with a smile. "Indeed, I +know not what to think of it. Sometimes it is all gladness and +sunshine, and Heaven itself lies not far off. And then it changes +suddenly; and is dark and sorrowful, and clouds shut out the sky. In +the lives of the saddestof us, there are bright days like this, when we +feel as if we could take the great world in our arms and kiss it. Then +come the gloomy hours, when the fire will neither burn on our hearths +nor in our hearts; and all without and within is dismal, cold, and +dark. Believe me, every heart has its secret sorrows, which the world +knows not, and oftentimes we call a man cold, when he is only sad." + +"And who says we don't?" interrupted Berkley. "Come, come! Let us go to +breakfast. The morning air has given me a rude appetite. I long to say +grace over a fresh egg; and eat salt with my worst enemies; namely, the +Cockneys at the hotel. After breakfast you must give yourself up wholly +to me. I shall take you to the Grindelwald!" + +"To-day, then, you do not breakfast like Diogenes, but consent to leave +your tub." + +"Yes, for the pleasure of your company. I shall also blow out the light +in my lantern, having found you." + +"Thank you." + +The breakfast passed without any unusual occurrence. Flemming watched +the entrance of every guest; but she came not,--the guest he most +desired to see. + +"And now for the Grindelwald!" said Berkley. + +"Why such haste? We have the whole day before us. There is time +enough." + +"Not a moment to loso, I assure you. The carriage is at the door." + +They drove up the valley of Lauterbrunnen, and turned eastward among +the mountains of the Grindelwald. There they passed the day; +half-frozen by the icy breath of the Great Glacier, upon whose surface +stand pyramids and blocks of ice, like the tombstones of a cemetery. It +was a weary day to Flemming. He wished himself at Interlachen; and was +glad when, towards evening, he saw once more the cone-roofed towers of +the cloister rising above the walnut trees. + +That evening is written in red letters in his history. It gave him +another revelation of thebeauty and excellence of the female character +and intellect; not wholly new to him, yet now renewed and fortified. It +was from the lips of Mary Ashburton, that the revelation came. Her form +arose, like a tremulous evening star, in the firmament of his soul. He +conversed with her; and with her alone; and knew not when to go. All +others were to him as if they were not there. He saw their forms, but +saw them as the forms of inanimate things. At length her mother came; +and Flemming beheld in her but another Mary Ashburton, with beauty more +mature;--the same forehead and eyes, the same majestic figure; and, as +yet, no trace of age. He gazed upon her with a feeling of delight, not +unmingled with holy awe. She was to him the rich and glowing Evening, +from whose bosom the tremulous star was born. + +Berkley took no active part in the conversation, but did what was much +more to the purpose, that it is to say, arranged a drive for the next +day with the Ashburtons, and of course invited Flemming, who went home +that night with a halo round hishead; and wondering much at a dandy, +who stood at the door of the hotel, and said to his companion, as +Flemming passed; + +"What do you call this place? I have been here two hours already, and +find it devilish dull!" + + + + +CHAPTER V. A RAINY DAY. + +When Flemming awoke the next morning he saw the sky dark and lowering. +From the mountain tops hung a curtain of mist, whose heavy folds waved +to and fro in the valley below. Over all the landscape, the soft, +summer rain was falling. No admiring eyes would look up that day at the +Staubbach. + +A rainy day in Switzerland puts a sudden stop to many diversions. The +coachman may drive to the tavern and then back to the stable; but no +farther. The sunburnt guide may sit at the ale-house door, and welcome; +and the boatman whistle and curse the clouds, at his own sweet will; +but no foot stirs abroad for all that; no traveller moves, if he has +time to stay. The rainy daygives him time for reflection. He has +leisure now to take cognizance of his impressions, and make up his +account with the mountains. He remembers, too, that he has friends at +home; and writes up the Journal, neglected for a week or more; and +letters neglected longer; or finishes the rough pencil-sketch, begun +yesterday in the open air. On the whole he is not sorry it rains; +though disappointed. + +Flemming was both sorry and disappointed; but he did not on that +account fail to go over to the Ashburtons at the appointed hour. He +found them sitting in the parlour. The mother was reading, and the +daughter retouching a sketch of the Lake of Thun. After the usual +salutations, Flemming seated himself near the daughter, and said; + +"We shall have no Staubbach to-day, I presume; only this Giessbach from +the clouds." + +"Nothing more, I suppose. So we must be content to stay in-doors; and +listen to the soundof the eves-dropping rain. It gives me time to +finish some of these rough sketches." + +"It is a pleasant pastime," said Flemming; "and I perceive you are very +skilful. I am delighted to see, that you can draw a straight line. I +never before saw a lady's sketch-book, in which all the towers did not +resemble the leaning Tower of Pisa. I always tremble for the little men +under them." + +"How absurd!" exclaimed Mary Ashburton, with a smile that passed +through the misty air of Flemming's thoughts, like a sunbeam; "For one, +I succeed much better in straight lines than in any others. Here I have +been trying a half-hour to make this water-wheel round; and round it +never will be." + +"Then let it remain as it is. It looks uncommonly picturesque, and may +pass for a new invention." + +The lady continued to sketch, and Flemming to gaze at her beautiful +face; often repeating to himself those lines in Marlow's Faust; + +"O thou art fairer than the evening air, + +Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars!" + +He certainly would have betrayed himself to the maternal eye of Mrs. +Ashburton, had she not been wholly absorbed in the follies of a +fashionable novel. Ere long the fair sketcher had paused for a moment; +and Flemming had taken her sketch-book in his hands and was looking it +through from the beginning with ever-increasing delight, half of which +he dared not express, though he favored her with some comments and +bursts of admiration. + +"This is truly a very beautiful sketch of Murten and the battle-field! +How quietly the land-scape sleeps there by the lake, after the battle! +Did you ever read the ballad of Veit Weber, the shoe-maker, on this +subject? He says, the routed Burgundians jumped into the lake, and the +Swiss Leaguers shot them down like wild ducks among the reeds. He +fought in the battle and wrote the ballad afterwards;-- + +'He had himself laid hand on sword, + +He who this rhyme did write; + +Till evening mowed he with the sword, + +And sang the song at night.' " + +"You must give me the whole ballad," said Miss Ashburton; "it will +serve to illustrate the sketch." + +"And the sketch to illustrate the ballad. And now we suddenly slide +down the Alps into Italy, and are even in Rome, if I mistake not. This +is surely a head of Homer?" + +"Yes," replied the lady, with a little enthusiasm. "Do you not remember +the marble bust at Rome? When I first beheld that bust, it absolutely +inspired me with awe. It is not the face of a man, but of a god!" + +"And you have done it no injustice in your copy," said Flemming, +catching a new enthusiasm from hers. "With what a classic grace the +fillet, passing round the majestic forehead, confines his flowing +locks, which mingle with his beard! The countenance, too, is calm, +majestic, godlike! Even the fixed and sightless eyeballs do not mar the +imageof the seer! Such were the sightless eyes of the blind old man of +Chios. They seem to look with mournful solemnity into the mysterious +future; and the marble lips to repeat that prophetic passage in the +Hymn to Apollo; 'Let me also hope to be remembered in ages to come. And +when any one, born of the tribes of men, comes hither, a weary +traveller, and inquires, who is the sweetest of the Singing Men, that +resort to your feasts, and whom you most delight to hear, do you make +answer for me. It is the Blind Man, who dwells in Chios; his songs +excel all that can ever be sung!' But do you really believe, that this +is a portrait of Homer?" + +"Certainly not! It is only an artist's dream. It was thus, that Homer +appeared to him in his visions of the antique world. Every one, you +know, forms an image in his fancy of persons and things he has never +seen; and the artist reproduces them in marble or on canvass." + +"And what is the image in your fancy? Is it like this?" + +"No; not entirely. I have drawn my impressions from another source. +Whenever I think of Homer, which is not often, he walks before me, +solemn and serene, as in the vision of the great Italian; in +countenance neither sorrowful nor glad, followed by other bards, and +holding in his right hand a sword!" + +"That is a finer conception, than even this," said Flemming. "And I +perceive from your words, as well as from this book, that you have a +true feeling for art, and understand what it is. You have had bright +glimpses into the enchanted land." + +"I trust," replied the lady modestly, "that I am not wholly without +this feeling. Certainly I have as strong and passionate a love of Art +as of Nature." + +"But does it not often offend you to hear people speaking of Art and +Nature as opposite and discordant things? Surely nothing can be more +false. Nature is a revelation of God; Art a revelation of man. Indeed, +Art signifies no more than this. Art is Power. That is the original +meaning of the word. It is the creative power by which the soul of man +makes itself known, through some external manifestation or outward +sign. As we can always hear the voice of God, walking in the garden, in +the cool of the day, or under the star-light, where, to quote one of +this poet's verses, 'high prospects and the brows of all steep hills +and pinnacles thrust up themselves for shows';--so, under the twilight +and the starlight of past ages, do we hear the voice of man, walking +amid the works of his hands, and city walls and towers and the spires +of churches, thrust up themselves for shows." + +The lady smiled at his warmth; and he continued; + +"This, however, is but a similitude; and Art and Nature are more nearly +allied than by similitudes only. Art is the revelation of man; and not +merely that, but likewise the revelation of Nature, speaking through +man. Art preëxists in Nature, and Nature is reproduced in Art. As +vaporsfrom the ocean, floating landward and dissolved in rain, are +carried back in rivers to the ocean, so thoughts and the semblances of +things that fall upon the soul of man in showers, flow out again in +living streams of Art, and lose themselves in the great ocean, which is +Nature. Art and Nature are not, then, discordant, but ever harmoniously +working in each other." + +Enthusiasm begets enthusiasm. Flemming spake with such evident interest +in the subject, that Miss Ashburton did not fail to manifest some +interest in what he said; and, encouraged by this, he proceeded; + +"Thus in this wondrous world wherein we live, which is the World of +Nature, man has made unto himself another world hardly less wondrous, +which is the World of Art. And it lies infolded and compassed about by +the other, + +'And the clear region where 't was born, + +Round in itself incloses.' + +Taking this view of art, I think we understand more easily the skill of +the artist, and the differencebetween him and the mere amateur. What we +call miracles and wonders of art are not so to him who created them. +For they were created by the natural movements of his own great soul. +Statues, paintings, churches, poems, are but shadows of +himself;--shadows in marble, colors, stone, words. He feels and +recognises their beauty; but he thought these thoughts and produced +these things as easily as inferior minds do thoughts and things +inferior. Perhaps more easily. Vague images and shapes of beauty +floating through the soul, the semblances of things as yet indefinite +or ill-defined, and perfect only when put in art,--this Possible +Intellect, as the Scholastic Philosophers have termed it,--the artist +shares in common with us all. The lovers of art are many. But the +Active Intellect, the creative power,--the power to put these shapes +and images in art, to imbody the indefinite, and render perfect, is his +alone. He shares the gift with few. He knows not even whence nor how +this is. He knows only that it is; that God has given him the power, +which has been denied to others." + +"I should have known you were just from Germany," said the lady, with a +smile, "even if you had not told me so. You are an enthusiast for the +Germans. For my part I cannot endure their harsh language." + +"You would like it better, if you knew it better," answered Flemming. +"It is not harsh to me; but homelike, hearty, and full of feeling, like +the sound of happy voices at a fireside, of a winter's night, when the +wind blows, and the fire crackles, and hisses, and snaps. I do indeed +love the Germans; the men are so hale and hearty, and the Fräuleins so +tender and true!" + +"I always think of men with pipes and beer, and women with +knittingwork." + +"O, those are English prejudices," exclaimed Flemming. "Nothing can be +more--" + +"And their very literature presents itself to my imagination under the +same forms." + +"I see you have read only English criticisms; and have an idea, that +all German books smell, as it were, 'of groceries, of brown papers, +filled withgreasy cakes and slices of bacon; and of fryings in frowzy +back-parlours; and this shuts you out from a glorious world of poetry, +romance, and dreams!" + +Mary Ashburton smiled, and Flemming continued to turn over the leaves +of the sketch-book, with an occasional criticism and witticism. At +length he came to a leaf which was written in pencil. People of a +lively imagination are generally curious, and always so when a little +in love. + +"Here is a pencil-sketch," said he, with an entreating look, "which I +would fain examine with the rest." + +"You may do so, if you wish; but you will find it the poorest sketch in +the book. I was trying one day to draw the picture of an artist's life +in Rome, as it presented itself to my imagination; and this is the +result. Perhaps it may awaken some pleasant recollection in your mind." + +Flemming waited no longer; but read with the eyes of a lover, not of a +critic, the following description, which inspired him with a new +enthusiasm for Art, and for Mary Ashburton. + +"I often reflect with delight upon the young artist's life in Rome. A +stranger from the cold and gloomy North, he has crossed the Alps, and +with the devotion of a pilgrim journeyed to the Eternal City. He dwells +perhaps upon the Pincian Hill; and hardly a house there, which is not +inhabited by artists from foreign lands. The very room he lives in has +been their abode from time out of mind. Their names are written all +over the walls; perhaps some further record of them left in a rough +sketch upon the window-shutter, with an inscription and a date. These +things consecrate the place, in his imagination. Even these names, +though unknown to him, are not without associations in his mind. + +"In that warm latitude he rises with the day. The night-vapors are +already rolling away over the Campagna sea-ward. As he looks from his +window, above and beyond their white folds he recognises the tremulous +blue sea at Ostia. Over Soracte rises the sun,--over his own beloved +mountain; though no longer worshipped there, asof old. Before him, the +antique house, where Raphael lived, casts its long, brown shadow down +into the heart of modern Rome. The city lies still asleep and silent. +But above its dark roofs, more than two hundred steeples catch the +sunshine on their gilded weather-cocks. Presently the bells begin to +ring, and, as the artist listens to their pleasant chimes, he knows +that in each of those churches over the high altar, hangs a painting by +some great master's hand, whose beauty comes between him and heaven, so +that he cannot pray, but wonder only. + +"Among these works of art he passes the day; but oftenest in St. +Peter's and the Vatican. Up the vast marble stair-case,--through the +Corridor Chiaramonti,--through vestibules, galleries, chambers,--he +passes, as in a dream. All are filled with busts and statues; or +painted in daring frescoes. What forms of strength and beauty! what +glorious creations of the human mind! and in that last chamber of all, +standing alone upon his pedestal, the Apollo found at Actium,--in such +a majestic attitude,--with such a noble countenance, life-like, +god-like! + +"Or perhaps he passes into the chambers of the painters; but goes no +further than the second. For in the middle of that chamber a large +painting stands upon the heavy easel, as if unfinished, though more +than three hundred years ago the great artist completed it, and then +laid his pencil away forever, leaving this last benediction to the +world. It is the Transfiguration of Christ by Raphael. A child looks +not at the stars with greater wonder, than the artist at this painting. +He knows how many studious years are in that picture. He knows the +difficult path that leads to perfection, having himself taken some of +the first steps.--Thus he recalls the hour, when that broad canvass was +first stretched upon its frame, and Raphael stood before it, and laid +the first colors upon it, and beheld the figures one by one born into +life, and 'looked upon the work of his own hands with a smile, that it +should have succeeded so well.' He recalls too, the hour, when, the +task accomplished, the pencil dropped from the master's dying hand, and +his eyes closed to open on a more glorious transfiguration, and at +length the dead Raphael lay in his own studio, before this wonderful +painting, more glorious than any conqueror under the banners and +armorial hatchments of his funeral! + +"Think you, that such sights and thoughts as these do not move the +heart of a young man and an artist! And when he goes forth into the +open air, the sun is going down, and the gray ruins of an antique world +receive him. From the Palace of the Cæsars he looks down into the +Forum, or towards the Coliseum; or westward sees the last sunshine +strike the bronze Archangel, which stands upon the Tomb of Adrian. He +walks amid a world of Art in ruins. The very street-lamps, that light +him homeward, burn before some painted or sculptured image of the +Madonna! What wonder is it, if dreams visit him in his sleep,--nay, if +his whole life seem to him a dream! What wonder, if, with a feverish +heart and quick hand, he strive to reproduce those dreams in marble or +on canvass." + +Foolish Paul Flemming! who both admired and praised this little sketch, +and yet was too blind to see, that it was written from the heart, and +not from the imagination! Foolish Paul Flemming! who thought, that a +girl of twenty could write thus, without a reason! Close upon this +followed another pencil sketch, which he likewise read, with the lady's +permission. It was this. + +"The whole period of the Middle Ages seems very strange to me. At times +I cannot persuade myself that such things could have been, as history +tells us; that such a strange world was a part of our world,--that such +a strange life was a part of the life, which seems to us who are living +it now, so passionless and commonplace. It is only when I stand amid +ruined castles, that look at me so mournfully, and behold the heavy +armour of old knights, hanging upon the wainscot of Gothic chambers; or +when I walk amid the aisles of some dusky minster, whose walls are +narrative ofhoar antiquity, and whose very bells have been baptized, +and see the carved oaken stalls in the choir, where so many generations +of monks have sat and sung, and the tombs, where now they sleep in +silence, to awake no more to their midnight psalms;--it is only at such +times, that the history of the Middle Ages is a reality to me, and not +a passage in romance. + +"Likewise the illuminated manuscripts of those ages have something of +this power of making the dead Past a living Present in my mind. What +curious figures are emblazoned on the creaking parchment, making its +yellow leaves laugh with gay colors! You seem to come upon them +unawares. Their faces have an expression of wonder. They seem all to be +just startled from their sleep by the sound you made when you unloosed +the brazen clasps, and opened the curiously-carved oaken covers, that +turn on hinges, like the great gates of a city. To the building of that +city some diligent monk gave the whole of a long life. With what +strange denizens he peopled it! Adam and Eve standing under a tree, +she, with the apple in her hand;--the patriarch Abraham, with a tree +growing out of his body, and his descendants sitting owl-like upon its +branches;--ladies with flowing locks of gold; knights in armour, with +most fantastic, long-toed shoes; jousts and tournaments; and +Minnesingers, and lovers, whose heads reach to the towers, where their +ladies sit;--and all so angular, so simple, so childlike,--all in such +simple attitudes, with such great eyes, and holding up such long, lank +fingers!--These things are characteristic of the Middle Ages, and +persuade me of the truth of history." + +At this moment Berkley entered, with a Swiss cottage, which he had just +bought as a present for somebody's child in England; and a cane with a +chamois-horn on the end of it, which he had just bought for himself. +This was the first time, that Flemming had been sorry to see the +good-natured man. His presence interrupted the delightful conversation +he was carrying on "under four eyes," with Mary Ashburton. He +reallythought Berkley a bore, and wondered it had never occurred to him +before. Mrs. Ashburton, too, must needs lay down her book; and the +conversation became general. Strange to say, the Swiss dinner-hour of +one o'clock, did not come a moment too soon for Flemming. It did not +even occur to him that it was early; for he was seated beside Mary +Ashburton, and at dinner one can say so much, without being overheard. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. AFTER DINNER, AND AFTER THE MANNER OF THE BEST CRITICS. + +When the learned Thomas Diafoirus wooed the fair Angélique, he drew +from his pocket a medical thesis, and presented it to her, as the +first-fruits of his genius; and at the same time, invited her, with her +father's permission, to attend the dissection of a woman, upon whom he +was to lecture. Paul Flemming did nearly the same thing; and so often, +that it had become a habit. He was continually drawing, from his pocket +or his memory, some scrap of song or story; and inviting some fair +Angélique, either with her father's permission or without, to attend +the dissection of anauthor, upon whom he was to discourse. He soon gave +proofs of this to Mary Ashburton. + +"What books have we here for afternoon reading?" said Flemming, taking +a volume from the parlour table, when they had returned from the +dining-room. "O, it is Uhland's Poems. Have you read any thing of his? +He and Tieck are the best living poets of Germany. They dispute the +palm of superiority. Let me give you a lesson in German, this +afternoon, Miss Ashburton; so that no one may accuse you of 'omitting +the sweet benefit of time, to clothe your age with angel-like +perfection.' I have opened at random upon the ballad of the Black +Knight. You repeat the German after me, and I will translate to you. +Pfingsten war, das Fest der Freude!" + +"I should never persuade my unwilling lips to pronounce such sounds. So +I beg you not to perplex me with your German, but read me the ballad in +English." + +"Well, then, listen. I will improvise a translation for your own +particular benefit. + +"'T was Pentecost, the Feast of Gladness, + +When woods and fields put off all sadness. + +Thus began the King and spake; + +'So from the halls + +Of ancient Hofburg's walls, + +A luxuriant Spring shall break.' + +"Drums and trumpets echo loudly, + +Wave the crimson banners proudly. + +From balcony the King looked on; + +In the play of spears, + +Fell all the cavaliers, + +Before the monarch's stalwart son. + +"To the barrier of the fight, + +Rode at last a sable Knight. + +'Sir Knight! your name and scutcheon, say!' + +'Should I speak it here, + +Ye would stand aghast with fear; + +Am a Prince of mighty sway!' + +"When he rode into the lists, + +The arch of heaven grew black with mists, + +And the castle 'gan to rock. + +At the first blow, + +Fell the youth from saddle-bow, + +Hardly rises from the shock. + +"Pipe and viol call the dances, + +Torch-light through the high halls glances; + +Waves a mighty shadow in. + +With manner bland + +Doth ask the maiden's hand, + +Doth with her the dance begin. + +"Danced in sable iron sark, + +Danced a measure weird and dark, + +Coldly clasped her limbs around. + +From breast and hair + +Down fall from her the fair + +Flowerets wilted to the ground. + +"To the sumptuous banquet came + +Every Knight and every Dame. + +'Twixt son and daughter all distraught, + +With mournful mind + +The ancient King reclined, + +Gazed at them in silent thought. + +"Pale the children both did look, + +But the guest a beaker took; + +'Golden wine will make you whole!" + +The children drank, + +Gave many a courteous thank; + +'O that draught was very cool!' + +"Each the father's breast embraces, + +Son and daughter; and their faces + +Colorless grow utterly. + +Whichever way + +Looks the fear-struck father gray, + +He beholds his children die. + +" 'Woe! the blessed children both, + +Takest thou in the joy of youth; + +Take me, too, the joyless father!' + +Spake the Grim Guest, + +From his hollow, cavernous breast; + +'Roses in the spring I gather!' " + +"That is indeed a striking ballad!" said Miss Ashburton, "but rather +too grim and ghostly for this dull afternoon." + +"It begins joyously enough with the feast of Pentecost, and the crimson +banners at the old castle. Then the contrast is well managed. The +Knight in black mail, and the waving in of the mighty shadow in the +dance, and the dropping of the faded flowers, are all strikingly +presented to the imagination. However, it tellsits own story, and needs +no explanation. Here is something in a different vein, though still +melancholy. The Castle by the Sea. Shall I read it?" + +"Yes, if you like." + +Flemming read; + +"Hast thou seen that lordly castle, + +That Castle by the Sea? + +Golden and red above it + +The clouds float gorgeously. + +"And fain it would stoop downward + +To the mirrored wave below; + +And fain it would soar upward + +In the evening's crimson glow. + +" 'Well have I seen that castle, + +That Castle by the Sea, + +And the moon above it standing, + +And the mist rise solemnly.' + +"The winds and the waves of ocean, + +Had they a merry chime? + +Didst thou hear, from those lofty chambers, + +The harp and the minstrel's rhyme? + +" 'The winds and the waves of ocean, + +They rested quietly, + +But I heard on the gale a sound of wail, + +And tears came to my eye.' + +"And sawest thou on the turrets + +The King and his royal bride? + +And the wave of their crimson mantles? + +And the golden crown of pride? + +"Led they not forth in rapture + +A beauteous maiden there? + +Resplendent as the morning sun, + +Beaming with golden hair? + +" 'Well saw I the ancient parents, + +Without the crown of pride; + +They were moving slow, in weeds of woe, + +No maiden was by their side!' + +How do you like that?" + +"It is very graceful, and pretty. But Uhland seems to leave a great +deal to his reader's imagination. All his readers should be poets +themselves, or they will hardly comprehend him. I confess, Ihardly +understand the passage where he speaks of the castle's stooping +downward to the mirrored wave below, and then soaring upward into the +gleaming sky. I suppose, however, he wishes to express the momentary +illusion we experience at beholding a perfect reflection of an old +tower in the sea, and look at it as if it were not a mere shadow in the +water; and yet the real tower rises far above, and seems to float in +the crimson evening clouds. Is that the meaning?" + +"I should think it was. To me it is all a beautiful cloud landscape, +which I comprehend and feel, and yet should find some difficulty +perhaps in explaining." + +"And why need one always explain? Some feelings are quite +untranslatable. No language has yet been found for them. They gleam +upon us beautifully through the dim twilight of fancy, and yet, when we +bring them close to us, and hold them up to the light of reason, lose +their beauty, all at once; just as glow-worms, which gleam with such a +spiritual light in the shadows of evening, when brought in where the +candlesare lighted, are found to be only worms, like so many others." + +"Very true. We ought sometimes to be content with feeling. Here, now, +is an exquisite piece, which soothes one like the fall of evening +shadows,--like the dewy coolness of twilight after a sultry day. I +shall not give you a bald translation of my own, because I have laid up +in my memory another, which, though not very literal, equals the +original in beauty. Observe how finely it commences. + +"Many a year is in its grave, + +Since I crossed this restless wave; + +And the evening, fair as ever, + +Shines on ruin, rock, and river. + +"Then, in this same boat, beside, + +Sat two comrades old and tried; + +One with all a father's truth, + +One with all the fire of youth. + +"One on earth in silence wrought, + +And his grave in silence sought; + +But the younger, brighter form + +Passed in battle and in storm! + +"So, whene'er I turn my eye + +Back upon the days gone by, + +Saddening thoughts of friends come o'er me,-- + +Friends, who closed their course before me. + +"Yet what binds us, friend to friend, + +But that soul with soul can blend? + +Soul-like were those hours of yore; + +Let us walk in soul once more! + +"Take, O boatman, thrice thy fee; + +Take,--I give it willingly; + +For, invisibly to thee, + +Spirits twain have crossed with me!" + +"O, that is beautiful,--'beautiful exceedingly!' Who translated it?" + +"I do not know. I wish I could find him out. It is certainly admirably +done; though in the measure of the original there is something like the +rocking motion of a boat, which is not preserved in the translation." + +"And is Uhland always so soothing and spiritual?" + +"Yes, he generally looks into the spirit-world. I am now trying to find +here a little poem on the Death of a Country Clergyman; in which he +introduces a beautiful picture. But I cannot turn to it. No matter. He +describes the spirit of the good old man, returning to earth on a +bright summer morning, and standing amid the golden corn and the red +and blue flowers, and mildly greeting the reapers as of old. The idea +is beautiful, is it not?" + +"Yes, very beautiful!" + +"But there is nothing morbid in Uhland's mind. He is always fresh and +invigorating, like a breezy morning. In this he differs entirely from +such writers as Salis and Matthisson." + +"And who are they?" + +"Two melancholy gentlemen to whom life was only a Dismal Swamp, upon +whose margin they walked with cambric handkerchiefs in their hands, +sobbing and sighing, and making signals to Death, to come and ferry +them over the lake. And now their spirits stand in the green fields of +German song, like two weeping-willows, bending over agrave. To read +their poems, is like wandering through a village churchyard on a summer +evening, reading the inscription upon the grave-stones, and recalling +sweet images of the departed; while above you, + +'Hark! in the holy grove of palms, + +Where the stream of life runs free, + +Echoes, in the angels' psalms, + +'Sister spirit! hail to thee!' " + +"How musically those lines flow! Are they Matthisson's!" + +"Yes; and they do indeed flow musically. I wish I had his poems here. I +should like to read to you his Elegy on the Ruins of an Ancient Castle. +It is an imitation of Gray's Elegy. You have been at Baden-Baden? + +"Yes; last summer." + +"And have not forgotten--" + +"The old castle? Of course not. What a magnificent ruin it is!" + +"That is the scene of Matthisson's Poem, andseems to have filled the +melancholy bard with more than wonted inspiration." + +"I should like very much to see the poem, I remember that old ruin with +so much delight." + +"I am sorry I have not a translation of it for you. Instead of it I +will give you a sweet and mournful poem from Salis. It is called the +Song of the Silent Land. + +"Into the Silent Land! + +Ah! who shall lead us thither! + +Clouds in the evening sky more darkly gather, + +And shattered wrecks lie thicker on the strand. + +Who leads us with a gentle hand, + +Thither, oh, thither. + +Into the Silent Land? + +"Into the Silent Land! + +To you, ye boundless regions + +Of all perfection! Tender morning-visions + +Of beauteous souls! Eternity's own band! + +Who in Life's battle firm doth stand, + +Shall bear Hope's tender blossoms + +Into the Silent Land! + +"O Land! O Land! + +For all the broken-hearted + +The mildest herald by our fate allotted, + +Beckons, and with inverted torch doth stand + +To lead us with a gentle hand + +Into the land of the great departed, + +Into the Silent Land! + +Is not that a beautiful poem?" + +Mary Ashburton made no answer. She had turned away to hide her tears. +Flemming wondered, that Berkley could say she was not beautiful. Still +he was rather pleased than offended at it. He felt at that moment how +sweet a thing it would be to possess one, who should seem beautiful to +him alone, and yet to him be more beautiful than all the world beside! +How bright the world became to him at that thought! It was like one of +those paintings in which all the light streams from the face of the +Virgin. O, there is nothing holier in this life of ours, than the first +consciousness of love,--the first fluttering of its silken wings; the +first rising sound and breath of thatwind, which is so soon to sweep +through the soul, to purify or to destroy! + +Old histories tell us, that the great Emperor Charlemagne stamped his +edicts with the hilt of his sword. The greater Emperor, Death, stamps +his with the blade; and they are signed and executed with the same +stroke. Flemming received that night a letter from Heidelberg, which +told him, that Emma of Ilmenau was dead. The fate of this poor girl +affected him deeply; and he said in his heart; + +"Father in Heaven! Why was the lot of this weak and erring child so +hard! What had she done, to be so tempted in her weakness, and perish? +Why didst thou suffer her gentle affections to lead her thus astray?" + +And, through the silence of the awful midnight, the voice of an +avalanche answered from the distant mountains, and seemed to say; + +"Peace! peace! Why dost thou question God's providence!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII. TAKE CARE! + +Fair is the valley of Lauterbrunnen with its green meadows and +overhanging cliffs. The ruined castle of Unspunnen stands like an armed +warder at the gate of the enchanted land. In calm serenity the snowy +mountains rise beyond. Fairer than the Rock of Balmarusa, you frowning +precipice looks down upon us; and, from the topmost cliff, the white +pennon of the Brook of Dust shimmers and waves in the sunny air! + +It was a bright, beautiful morning after nightrain. Every dewdrop and +raindrop had a whole heaven within it; and so had the heart of Paul +Flemming, as, with Mrs. Ashburton and her dark-eyed daughter, he drove +up the Valley of Lauter-brunnen,--the Valley of Fountains-Only. + +"How beautiful the Jungfrau looks this morning!" exclaimed he, looking +at Mary Ashburton. + +She thought he meant the mountain, and assented. But he meant her +likewise. + +"And the mountains, beyond," he continued; "the Monk and the +Silver-horn, the Wetter-horn the Schreck-horn, and the Schwarz-horn, +all those sublime apostles of Nature, whose sermons are avalanches! Did +you ever behold anything more grand!" + +"O yes. Mont Blanc is more grand, when you behold it from the hills +opposite. It was there that I was most moved by the magnificence of +Swiss scenery. It was a morning like this; and the clouds, that were +hovering about on their huge, shadowy wings, made the scene only the +more magnificent. Before me lay the whole panorama of the Alps; pine +forests standing dark and solemn at the base of the mountains; and +half-way up a veil of mist; above which rose the snowy summits, and +sharp needles of rock, which seemed to float in the air, like a fairy +world. Then the glaciersstood on either side, winding down through the +mountain ravines; and, high above all, rose the white, dome-like summit +of Mont Blanc. And ever and anon from the shroud of mist came the awful +sound of an avalanche, and a continual roar, as of the wind through a +forest of pines, filled the air. It was the roar of the Arve and +Aveiron, breaking from their icy fountains. Then the mists began to +pass away; and it seemed as if the whole firmament were rolling +together. It recalled to my mind that sublime passage in the +Apocalypse; 'I saw a great white throne; and him that sat thereon; +before whose face the heavens and the earth fled away, and found no +place!' O, I cannot believe that upon this earth there is a more +magnificent scene." + +"It must be grand, indeed," replied Flemming. "And those mighty +glaciers,--huge monsters with bristling crests, creeping down into the +valley! for it is said they really move." + +"Yes; it filled me with a strange sensation of awe to think of this. +They seemed to me like the dragons of Northern Romance, which come down +from the mountains and devour whole villages. A little hamlet in +Chamouni was once abandoned by its inhabitants, terrified at the +approach of the icy dragon. But is it possible you have never been at +Chamouni? + +"Never. The great marvel still remains unseen by me." + +"Then how can you linger here so long? Were I in your place I would not +lose an hour." + +These words passed over the opening blossoms of hope in the soul of +Flemming, like a cold wind over the flowers in spring-time. He bore it +as best he could, and changed the subject. + +I do not mean to describe the Valley of Lauterbrunnen, nor the bright +day passed there. I know that my gentle reader is blessed with the +divine gift of a poetic fancy; and can see already how the mountains +rise, and the torrents fall, and the sweet valley lies between; and +how, along the dusty road, the herdsman blows his horn, and travellers +come and go in charabans, like Punch and Judy in a show-box. He knows +already how romantic ladies sketch romantic scenes; while sweet +gentlemen gather sweet flowers; and how cold meat tastes under the +shadow of trees, and how time flies when we are in love, and the +beloved one near. One little incident I must, however, mention, lest +his fancy should not suggest it. + +Flemming was still sitting with the ladies, on the green slope near the +Staubbach, or Brook of Dust, when a young man clad in green, came down +the valley. It was a German student, with flaxen ringlets hanging over +his shoulders, and a guitar in his hand. His step was free and elastic, +and his countenance wore the joyous expression of youth and health. He +approached the company with a courteous salutation; and, after the +manner of travelling students, asked charity with the confident air of +one unaccustomed to refusal. Nor was he refused in this instance. The +presence of those we love makes us compassionate and generous. Flemming +gave him a piece of gold; and after a short conversation he seated +himself, at alittle distance on the grass, and began to play and sing. +Wonderful and many were the sweet accords and plaintive sounds that +came from that little instrument, touched by the student's hand. Every +feeling of the human heart seemed to find an expression there, and +awaken a kindred feeling in the hearts of those who heard him. He sang +sweet German songs, so full of longing, and of pleasing sadness, and +hope and fear, and passionate desire, and soul-subduing sorrow, that +the tears came into Mary Ashburton's eyes, though she understood not +the words he sang. Then his countenance glowed with triumph, and he +beat the strings like a drum, and sang; + +"O, how the drum beats so loud! + +Close beside me in the fight, + +My dying brother says, Good Night! + +And the cannon's awful breath + +Screams the loud halloo of Death! + +And the drum, + +And the drum, + +Beats so loud!" + +Many were the words of praise, when the young musician ended; and, as +he rose to depart, they still entreated for one song more. Whereupon he +played a lively prelude; and, looking full into Flemming's face, sang +with a pleasant smile, and still in German, this little song. + +"I KNOW a maiden fair to see, + +Take care! + +She can both false and friendly be, + +Beware! Beware! + +Trust her not, + +She is fooling thee! + +"She has two eyes, so soft and brown, + +Take care! + +She gives a side-glance and looks down, + +Beware! Beware! + +Trust her not, + +She is fooling thee! + +"And she has hair of a golden hue, + +Take care! + +And what she says, it is not true, + +Beware! Beware! + +Trust her not, + +She is fooling thee! + +"She has a bosom as white as snow, + +Take care! + +She knows how much it is best to show, + +Beware! Beware! + +Trust her not, + +She is fooling thee! + +"She gives thee a garland woven fair, + +Take care! + +It is a fool's cap for thee to wear, + +Beware! Beware! + +Trust her not, + +She is fooling thee!" + +The last stanza he sung in a laughing, triumphant tone, which resounded +above the loud clang of his guitar, like the jeering laugh of Till +Eulenspiegel. Then slinging his guitar over his shoulder, he took off +his green cap, and made a leg to the ladies, in the style of Gil Blas; +waved his hand in the air, and walked quickly down the valley, singing +"Adé! Adé! Adé!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. THE FOUNTAIN OF OBLIVION. + +The power of magic in the Middle Ages created monsters, who followed +the unhappy magician everywhere. The power of Love in all ages creates +angels, who likewise follow the happy or unhappy lover everywhere, even +in his dreams. By such an angel was Paul Flemming now haunted, both +when he waked and when he slept. He walked as in a dream; and was +hardly conscious of the presence of those around him. A sweet face +looked at him from every page of every book he read; and it was the +face of Mary Ashburton! a sweet voice spake to him in every sound he +heard; and it was the voice of Mary Ashburton! Day and night succeeded +each other, with pleasant interchange of light and darkness; but to him +thepassing of time was only as a dream. When he arose in the morning, +he thought only of her, and wondered if she were yet awake; and when he +lay down at night he thought only of her, and how, like the Lady +Christabel, + +"Her gentle limbs she did undress, + +And lay down in her loveliness." + +And the livelong day he was with her, either in reality or in +day-dreams, hardly less real; for, in each delirious vision of his +waking hours, her beauteous form passed like the form of Beatrice +through Dante's heaven; and, as he lay in the summer afternoon, and +heard at times the sound of the wind in the trees, and the sound of +Sabbath bells ascending up to heaven, holy wishes and prayers ascended +with them from his inmost soul, beseeching that he might not love in +vain! And whenever, in silence and alone, he looked into the silent, +lonely countenance of Night, he recalled the impassioned lines of +Plato;-- + +"Lookest thou at the stars? If I were heaven, + +With all the eyes of heaven would I look down on thee!" + +O how beautiful it is to love! Even thou, that sneerest at this page, +and laughest in cold indifference or scorn if others are near thee, +thou, too, must acknowledge its truth when thou art alone; and confess, +that a foolish world is prone to laugh in public, at what in private it +reverences, as one of the highest impulses of our nature,--namely, +Love! + +One by one the objects of our affection depart from us. But our +affections remain, and like vines stretch forth their broken, wounded +tendrils for support. The bleeding heart needs a balm to heal it; and +there is none but the love of its kind,--none but the affection of a +human heart! Thus the wounded, broken affections of Flemming began to +lift themselves from the dust and cling around this new object. Days +and weeks passed; and, like the Student Crisostomo, he ceased to love +because he began to adore. And with this adoration mingled the prayer, +that, in that hour when the world is still, and the voices that praise +are mute, and reflection cometh like twilight, and themaiden, in her +day-dreams, counted the number of her friends, some voice in the sacred +silence of her thoughts might whisper his name! And was it indeed so? +Did any voice in the sacred silence of her thoughts whisper his +name?--We shall soon learn. + +They were sitting together one morning, on the green, flowery meadow, +under the ruins of Burg Unspunnen. She was sketching the ruins. The +birds were singing one and all, as if there were no aching hearts, no +sin nor sorrow, in the world. So motionless was the bright air, that +the shadow of the trees lay engraven on the grass. The distant +snow-peaks sparkled in the sun, and nothing frowned, save the square +tower of the old ruin above them. + +"What a pity it is," said the lady, as she stopped to rest her weary +fingers; "what a pity it is, that there is no old tradition connected +with this ruin." + +"I will make you one, if you wish," said Flemming. + +"Can you make old traditions?" + +"O yes; I made three the other day for the Rhine, and one very old one +for the Black Forest. A lady with dishevelled hair; a robber with a +horrible slouched hat; and a night-storm among the roaring pines." + +"Delightful! Do make one for me." + +"With the greatest pleasure. Where will you have the scene? Here, or in +the Black Forest?" + +"In the Black Forest, by all means? Begin." + +"First promise not to interrupt me. If you snap the golden threads of +thought, they will float away on the air like gossamer threads, and I +shall never be able to recover them." + +"I promise." + +"Listen, then, to the Tradition of 'The Fountain of Oblivion.' " + +"Begin." + +Flemming was reclining on the flowery turf, at the lady's feet, looking +up with dreamy eyes into her sweet face, and then into the leaves of +the linden-trees overhead. + +"Gentle Lady! Dost thou remember the linden-trees of Bülach, those tall +and stately trees, with velvet down upon their shining leaves and +rustic benches underneath their overhanging eaves! A leafy dwelling, +fit to be the home of elf or fairy, where first I told my love to thee, +thou cold and stately Hermione! A little peasant girl stood near, and +listened all the while, with eyes of wonder and delight, and an +unconscious smile, to hear the stranger still speak on in accents deep +yet mild,--none else was with us in that hour, save God and that +peasant child!" + +"Why, it is in rhyme!" + +"No, no! the rhyme is only in your imagination. You promised not to +interrupt me, and you have already snapped asunder the gossamer threads +of as sweet a dream as was ever spun from a poet's brain." + +"It certainly did rhyme!" + +"This was the reverie of the Student Hieronymus, as he sat at midnight +in his chamber, with his hands clasped together, and resting upon +anopen volume, which he should have been reading. His pale face was +raised, and the pupils of his eyes dilated as if the spirit-world were +open before him, and some beauteous vision were standing there, and +drawing the student's soul through his eyes up into Heaven, as the +evening sun through parting summer-clouds, seems to draw into its bosom +the vapors of the earth. O, it was a sweet vision! I can see it before +me now! + +"Near the student stood an antique bronze lamp, with strange figures +carved upon it. It was a magic lamp, which once belonged to the Arabian +astrologer El Geber, in Spain. Its light was beautiful as the light of +stars; and, night after night, as the lonely wight sat alone and read +in his lofty tower, through the mist, and mirk, and dropping rain, it +streamed out into the darkness, and was seen by many wakeful eyes. To +the poor Student Hieronymus it was a wonderful Aladdin's Lamp; for in +its flame a Divinity revealed herself unto him, and showed him +treasures. Whenever he opened a ponderous, antiquatedtome, it seemed as +if some angel opened for him the gates of Paradise; and already he was +known in the city as Hieronymus the Learned. + +"But, alas! he could read no more. The charm was broken. Hour after +hour he passed with his hands clasped before him, and his fair eyes +gazing at vacancy. What could so disturb the studies of this melancholy +wight? Lady, he was in love! Have you ever been in love? He had seen +the face of the beautiful Hermione; and as, when we have thoughtlessly +looked at the sun, our dazzled eyes, though closed, behold it still; so +he beheld by day and by night the radiant image of her upon whom he had +too rashly gazed. Alas! he was unhappy; for the proud Hermione +disdained the love of a poor student, whose only wealth was a magic +lamp. In marble halls, and amid the gay crowd that worshipped her, she +had almost forgotten that such a being lived as the Student Hieronymus. +The adoration of his heart had been to her only as the perfume of a +wild flower, which she had carelessly crushedwith her foot in passing. +But he had lost all; for he had lost the quiet of his thoughts; and his +agitated soul reflected only broken and distorted images of things. The +world laughed at the poor student, who, in his torn and threadbare +cassock, dared to lift his eyes to the Lady Hermione; while he sat +alone, in his desolate chamber, and suffered in silence. He remembered +many things, which he would fain forget; but which, if he had forgotten +them, he would wish again to remember. Such were the linden-trees of +Bülach, under whose pleasant shade he had told his love to Hermione. +This was the scene which he wished most to forget, yet loved most to +remember; and of this he was now dreaming, with his hands clasped upon +his book, and that kind of music in his thoughts, which you, Lady, +mistook for rhyme. + +"Suddenly the cathedral clock struck twelve with a melancholy clang. It +roused the Student Hieronymus from his dream; and rang in his ears, +like the iron hoofs of the steeds of Time. Themagic hour had come, when +the Divinity of the lamp most willingly revealed herself to her votary. +The bronze figures seemed alive; a white cloud rose from the flame and +spread itself through the chamber, whose four walls dilated into +magnificent cloud vistas; a fragrance, as of wild-flowers, filled the +air; and a dreamy music, like distant, sweetchiming bells, announced +the approach of the midnight Divinity. Through his streaming tears the +heart-broken Student beheld her once more descending a pass in the +snowy cloud-mountains, as, at evening, the dewy Hesperus comes from the +bosom of the mist, and assumes his station in the sky. At her approach, +his spirit grew more calm; for her presence was, to his feverish heart, +like a tropical night,--beautiful and soothing and invigorating. At +length she stood before him revealed in all her beauty; and he +comprehended the visible language of her sweet but silent lips; which +seemed to say;--'What would the Student Hieronymus to-night?'--'Peace!' +he answered, raising his clasped hands, and smiling through histears. +'The Student Hieronymus imploreth peace!' 'Then go,' said the spirit, +'go to the Fountain of Oblivion in the deepest solitude of the Black +Forest, and cast this scroll into its waters; and thou shalt be at +peace once more. Hieronymus opened his arms to embrace the Divinity, +for her countenance assumed the features of Hermione; but she vanished +away; the music ceased; the gorgeous cloud-land sank and fell asunder; +and the student was alone within the four bare walls of his chamber. As +he bowed his head downward, his eye fell upon a parchment scroll, which +was lying beside the lamp. Upon it was written only the name of +Hermione! + +"The next morning Hieronymus put the scroll into his bosom, and went +his way in search of the Fountain of Oblivion. A few days brought him +to the skirts of the Black Forest. He entered, not without a feeling of +dread, that land of shadows; and passed onward under melancholy pines +and cedars, whose branches grew abroad and mingled together, and, as +they swayed up and down, filled the air with solemn twilight and a +sound of sorrow. As he advanced into the forest, the waving moss hung, +like curtains, from the branches overhead, and more and more shut out +the light of heaven; and he knew that the Fountain of Oblivion was not +far off. Even then the sound of falling waters was mingling with the +roar of the pines overhead; and ere long he came to a river, moving in +solemn majesty through the forest, and falling with a dull, leaden +sound into a motionless and stagnant lake, above which the branches of +the forest met and mingled, forming perpetual night. This was the +Fountain of Oblivion. + +"Upon its brink the student paused, and gazed into the dark waters with +a steadfast look. They were limpid waters, dark with shadows only. And +as he gazed, he beheld, far down in their silent depths, dim and +ill-defined outlines, wavering to and fro, like the folds of a white +garment in the twilight. Then more distinct and permanent shapes +arose;--shapes familiar to his mind, yet forgotten and remembered +again, as the fragmentsof a dream; till at length, far, far below him +he beheld the great city of the Past, with silent marble streets, and +moss-grown walls, and spires uprising with a wave-like, flickering +motion. And amid the crowd that thronged those streets, he beheld faces +once familiar and dear to him; and heard sorrowful, sweet voices, +singing; 'O forget us not! forget us not!' and then the distant, +mournful sound of funeral bells, that were tolling below, in the city +of the Past. But in the gardens of that city, there were children +playing, and among them, one who wore his features, as they had been in +childhood. He was leading a little girl by the hand, and caressed her +often, and adorned her with flowers. Then, like a dream, the scene +changed, and the boy had grown older, and stood alone, gazing into the +sky; and, as he gazed, his countenance changed again, and Hieronymus +beheld him, as if it had been his own image in the clear water; and +before him stood a beauteous maiden, whose face was like the face of +Hermione, and he feared lest the scroll had fallen into the water, as +he bent overit. Starting as from a dream he put his hand into his bosom +and breathed freely again, when he found the scroll still there. He +drew it forth, and read the blessed name of Hermione, and the city +beneath him vanished away, and the air grew fragrant as with the breath +of May-flowers, and a light streamed through the shadowy forest and +gleamed upon the lake; and the Student Hieronymus pressed the dear name +to his lips and exclaimed with streaming eyes; 'O, scorn me as thou +wilt, still, still will I love thee; and thy name shall irradiate the +gloom of my life, and make the waters of Oblivion smile!' And the name +was no longer Hermione, but was changed to Mary; and the Student +Hieronymus--is lying at your feet! O, gentle Lady! + +'I did hear you talk + +Far above singing; after you were gone + +I grew acquainted with my heart, and searched + +What stirred it so! Alas! I found it love." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. A TALK ON THE STAIRS. + +No! I will not describe that scene; nor how pale the stately lady sat +on the border of the green, sunny meadow! The hearts of some women +tremble like leaves at every breath of love which reaches them, and +then are still again. Others, like the ocean, are moved only by the +breath of a storm, and not so easily lulled to rest. And such was the +proud heart of Mary Ashburton. It had remained unmoved by the presence +of this stranger; and the sound of his footsteps and his voice excited +in it no emotion. He had deceived himself! Silently they walked +homeward through the green meadow. The very sunshine was sad; and the +rising wind, through the old ruin above them, sounded in his ears like +a hollow laugh! + +Flemming went straight to his chamber. On the way, he passed the walnut +trees under which he had first seen the face of Mary Ashburton. +Involuntarily he closed his eyes. They were full of tears. O, there are +places in this fair world, which we never wish to see again, however +dear they may be to us! The towers of the old Franciscan convent never +looked so gloomily as then, though the bright summer sun was shining +full upon them. + +In his chamber he found Berkley. He was looking out of the window, +whistling. + +"This evening I leave Interlachen forever," said Flemming, rather +abruptly. Berkley stared. + +"Indeed! Pray what is the matter? You look as pale as a ghost!" + +"And have good reason to look pale," replied Flemming bitterly. +"Hoffmann says, in one of his note-books, that, on the eleventh of +March, at half past eight o'clock, precisely, he was an ass. That is +what I was this morning at half past ten o'clock, precisely, and am +now, and I suppose always shall be." + +He tried to laugh, but could not. He then related to Berkley the whole +story, from beginning to end. + +"This is a miserable piece of business!" exclaimed Berkley, when he had +finished. "Strange enough! And yet I have long ceased to marvel at the +caprices of women. Did not Pan captivate the chaste Diana? Did not +Titania love Nick Bottom, with his ass's head? Do you think that +maidens' eyes are no longer touched with the juice of love-in-idleness! +Take my word for it, she is in love with somebody else. There must be +some reason for this. No; women never have any reasons, except their +will. But never mind. Keep a stout heart. Care killed a cat. After +all,--what is she? Who is she? Only a--" + +"Hush! hush," exclaimed Flemming, in great excitement. "Not one word +more, I beseech you. Do not think to console me, by depreciating her. +She is very dear to me still; a beautiful, high-minded, noble woman." + +"Yes," answered Berkley; "that is the waywith you all, you young men. +You see a sweet face, or a something, you know not what, and flickering +reason says, Good night; amen to common sense. The imagination invests +the beloved object with a thousand superlative charms; furnishes her +with all the purple and fine linen, all the rich apparel and furniture, +of human nature. I did the same when I was young. I was once as +desperately in love as you are now; and went through all the + +'Delicious deaths, soft exhalations + +Of soul; dear and divine annihilations, + +A thousand unknown rites + +Of joys, and rarified delights.' + +I adored and was rejected. 'You are in love with certain attributes,' +said the lady. 'Damn your attributes, Madam,' said I; 'I know nothing +of attributes.' 'Sir,' said she, with dignity, 'you have been +drinking.' So we parted. She was married afterwards to another, who +knew something about attributes, I suppose. I have seen her once since, +and only once. She had a baby in a yellow gown. I hate a baby in a +yellow gown. How glad I am she did not marry me. One of these days, you +will be glad you have been rejected. Take my word for it." + +"All that does not prevent my lot from being a very melancholy one!" +said Flemming sadly. + +"O, never mind the lot," cried Berkley laughing, "so long as you don't +get Lot's wife. If the cucumber is bitter, throw it away, as the +philosopher Marcus Antoninus says, in his Meditations. Forget her, and +all will be as if you had not known her." + +"I shall never forget her," replied Flemming, rather solemnly. "Not my +pride, but my affections, are wounded; and the wound is too deep ever +to heal. I shall carry it with me always. I enter no more into the +world, but will dwell only in the world of my own thoughts. All great +and unusual occurrences, whether of joy or sorrow, lift us above this +earth; and we should do well always to preserve this elevation. +Hitherto I have not done so. But now I will no more descend; I will sit +apart and above the world, with my mournful, yet holy thoughts." + +"Whew! You had better go into society; the whirl and delirium will cure +you in a week. If you find a lady, who pleases you very much, and you +wish to marry her, and she will not listen to such a horrid thing, I +see but one remedy, which is to find another, who pleases you more, and +who will listen to it." + +"No, my friend; you do not understand my character," said Flemming, +shaking his head. "I love this woman with a deep, and lasting +affection. I shall never cease to love her. This may be madness in me; +but so it is. Alas and alas! Paracelsus of old wasted life in trying to +discover its elixir, which after all turned out to be alcohol; and +instead of being made immortal upon earth, he died drunk on the floor +of a tavern. The like happens to many of us. We waste our best years in +distilling the sweetest flowers of life into love-potions, which after +all do not immortalize, butonly intoxicate us. By Heaven! we are all of +us mad." + +"But are you sure the case is utterly hopeless?" + +"Utterly! utterly!" + +"And yet I perceive you have not laid aside all hope. You still flatter +yourself, that the lady's heart may change. The great secret of +happiness consists not in enjoying, but in renouncing. But it is hard, +very hard. Hope has as many lives as a cat or a king. I dare say you +have heard the old Italian proverb, 'The King never dies.' But perhaps +you have never heard, that, at the court of Naples, where the dead body +of a monarch lies in state, his dinner is carried up to him as usual, +and the court physician tastes it, to see that it be not poisoned, and +then the servants bear it out again, saying 'The King does not dine +to-day.' Hope in our souls is King; and we also say, 'The King never +dies.' Even when in reality he lies dead within us, in a kind of solemn +mockery we offer him his accustomed food, but are constrainedto say, +'The King does not dine to-day.' It must be an evil day, indeed, when a +king of Naples has no heart for his dinner! but you yourself are a +proof, that the King never dies. You are feeding your King, although +you say he is dead." + +"To show you, that I do not wish to cherish hope," replied Flemming, I +shall leave Interlachen to-morrow morning. I am going to the Tyrol." + +"You are right," said Berkley; "there is nothing so good for sorrow as +rapid motion in the open air. I shall go with you; though probably your +conversation will not be very various; nothing but Edward and +Kunigunde." + +"What do you mean by that?" + +"Go to Berlin, and you will find out. However, jesting apart, I will do +all I can to cheer you, and make you forget the Dark Ladie, and this +untoward accident." + +"Accident!" said Flemming. "This is no accident, but God's Providence, +which brought us together, to punish me for my sins." + +"O, my friend," interrupted Berkley, "if you see the finger of +Providence so distinctly in every act of your life, you will end by +thinking yourself an Apostle and Envoy Extraordinary. I see nothing so +very uncommon in what has happened to you." + +"What! not when our souls are so akin to each other! When we seemed so +formed to be together,--to be one!" + +"I have often observed," replied Berkley coldly, "that those who are of +kindred souls, rarely wed together; almost as rarely as those who are +akin by blood. There seems, indeed, to be such a thing as spiritual +incest. Therefore, mad lover, do not think to persuade thyself and thy +scornful lady, that you have kindred souls; but rather the contrary; +that you are much unlike; and each wanting in those qualities which +most mark and distinguish the other. Trust me, thy courtship will then +be more prosperous. But good morning. I must prepare for this sudden +journey." + +On the following morning, Flemming and Berkleystarted on their way to +Innsbruck, like Huon of Bordeaux and Scherasmin on their way to +Babylon. Berkley's self-assumed duty was to console his companion; a +duty which he performed like an old Spanish Matadora, a woman whose +business was to attend the sick, and put her elbow into the stomach of +the dying to shorten their agony. + + + + +BOOK IV. + + + + +Epigraph + +"Mortal, they softly say, + +Peace to thy heart! + +We too, yes, mortal, + +Have been as thou art; + +Hope-lifted, doubt-depressed, + +Seeing in part, + +Tried, troubled, tempted,-- + +Sustained,--as thou art." + + + + +CHAPTER I. A MISERERE. + +In the Orlando Innamorato, Malagigi, the necromancer, puts all the +company to sleep by reading to them from a book. Some books have this +power of themselves and need no necromancer. Fearing, gentle reader, +that mine may be of this kind, I have provided these introductory +chapters, from time to time, like stalls or Misereres in a church, with +flowery canopies and poppy-heads over them, where thou mayest sit down +and sleep. + +No,--the figure is not a bad one. This book does somewhat resemble a +minster, in the Romanesque style, with pinnacles, and flying +buttresses, and roofs, + +"Gargoyled with greyhounds, and with many lions + +Made of fine gold, with divers sundry dragons." + +You step into its shade and coolness out of the hot streets of life; a +mysterious light streams through the painted glass of the marigold +windows, staining the cusps and crumpled leaves of the window-shafts, +and the cherubs and holy-water-stoups below. Here and there is an image +of the Virgin Mary; and other images, "in divers vestures, called +weepers, stand in housings made about the tomb"; and, above all, swells +the vast dome of heaven, with its star-mouldings, and the flaming +constellations, like the mosaics in the dome of St. Peter's. Have you +not heard funeral psalms from the chauntry? Have you not heard the +sound of church-bells, as I promised; mysterious sounds from the Past +and Future, as from the belfries outside the cathedral; even such a +mournful, mellow, watery peal of bells, as is heard sometimes at sea, +from cities afar off below the horizon? + +I know not how this Romanesque, and at times flamboyant, style of +architecture may please thecritics. They may wish, perhaps, that I had +omitted some of my many ornaments, my arabesques, and roses, and +fantastic spouts, and Holy-Roods and Gallilee-steeples. But would it +then have been Romanesque? + +But perhaps, gentle reader, thou art one of those, who think the days +of Romance gone forever. Believe it not! O, believe it not! Thou hast +at this moment in thy heart as sweet a romance as was ever written. +Thou art not less a woman, because thou dost not sit aloft in a tower, +with a tassel-gentle on thy wrist! Thou art not less a man, because +thou wearest no hauberk, nor mail-sark, and goest not on horseback +after foolish adventures! Nay, nay! Every one has a Romance in his own +heart. All that has blessed or awed the world lies there; and + +"The oracle within him, that which lives, + +He must invoke and question,--not dead books, + +Not ordinances, not mould-rotten papers." + +Sooner or later some passages of every one's romance must be written, +either in words or actions. They will proclaim the truth; for Truth is +thought, which has assumed its appropriate garments, either of words or +actions; while Falsehood is thought, which, disguised in words or +actions not its own, comes before the blind old world, as Jacob came +before the patriarch Isaac, clothed in the goodly raiment of his +brother Esau. And the world, like the patriarch, is often deceived; +for, though the voice is Jacob's voice, yet the hands are the hands of +Esau, and the False takes away the birth-right and the blessing from +the True. Hence it is, that the world so often lifts up its voice and +weeps. + +That very pleasing and fanciful Chinese Romance, the Shadow in the +Water, ends with the hero's marrying both the heroines. I hope my +gentle reader feels curious to know the end of this Romance, which is a +shadow upon the earth; and see whether there be any marriage at all in +it. + +That is the very point I am now thinking of, as I sit here at my +pleasant chamber window, and enjoy the balmy air of a bright summer +morning, and watch the motions of the golden robin, that sits on its +swinging nest on the outermost, pendulous branch of yonder elm. The +broad meadows and the steel-blue river remind me of the meadows of +Unterseen, and the river Aar; and beyond them rise magnificent +snow-white clouds, piled up like Alps. Thus the shades of Washington +and William Tell seem to walk together on these Elysian Fields; for it +was here, that in days long gone, our great Patriot dwelt; and yonder +clouds so much resemble the snowy Alps, that they remind me +irresistibly of the Swiss. Noble examples of a high purpose and a fixed +will! Do they not move, Hyperion-like on high? Were they not, likewise, +sons of Heaven and Earth? + +Nothing can be more lovely than these summer mornings; nor than the +southern window at which I sit and write, in this old mansion, which is +like an Italian Villa. But O, this lassitude,--thisweariness,--when all +around me is so bright! I have this morning a singular longing for +flowers; a wish to stroll among the roses and carnations, and inhale +their breath, as if it would revive me. I wish I knew the man, who +called flowers "the fugitive poetry of Nature." From this distance, +from these scholastic shades,--from this leafy, blossoming, and +beautiful Cambridge, I stretch forth my hand to grasp his, as the hand +of a poet!--Yes; this morning I would rather stroll with him among the +gay flowers, than sit here and write. I feel so weary! + +Old men with their staves, says the Spanish poet, are ever knocking at +the door of the grave. But I am not old. The Spanish poet might have +included the young also.--No matter! Courage, and forward! The Romance +must be finished; and finished soon. + +O thou poor authorling! Reach a little deeper into the human heart! +Touch those strings,--touch those deeper strings, and more boldly, or +the notes will die away like whispers, and no earshall hear them, save +thine own! And, to cheer thy solitary labor, remember, that the secret +studies of an author are the sunken piers upon which is to rest the +bridge of his fame, spanning the dark waters of Oblivion. They are out +of sight; but without them no superstructure can stand secure! + +And now, Reader, since the sermon is over, and we are still sitting +here in this Miserere, let us read aloud a page from the old parchment +manuscript on the lettern before us; let us sing it through these dusky +aisles, like a Gregorian Chant, and startle the sleeping congregation! + +"I have read of the great river Euripus, which ebbeth and floweth seven +times a day, and with such violence, that it carrieth ships upon it +with full sail, directly against the wind. Seven times in an hour +ebbeth and floweth rash opinion, in the torrent of indiscreet and +troublesome apprehensions; carrying critic calumny and squint-eyed +detraction mainly against the wind of wisdom and judgment." + +In secula seculorum! Amen! + + + + +CHAPTER II. CURFEW BELLS. + +Welcome Disappointment! Thy hand is cold and hard, but it is the hand +of a friend! Thy voice is stern and harsh, but it is the voice of a +friend! O, there is something sublime in calm endurance, something +sublime in the resolute, fixed purpose of suffering without +complaining, which makes disappointment oftentimes better than success! + +The emperor Isaac Angelus made a treaty with Saladin, and tried to +purchase the Holy Sepulchre with gold. Richard Lion-heart scorned such +alliance, and sought to recover it by battle. Thus do weak minds make +treaties with the passions they cannot overcome, and try to purchase +happiness at the expense of principle. But the resolute will of a +strong man scorns such means; and struggles nobly with his foe, to +achieve great deeds. Therefore, whosoever thou art that sufferest, try +not to dissipate thy sorrow by the breath of the world, nor drown its +voice in thoughtless merriment. It is a treacherous peace that is +purchased by indulgence. Rather take this sorrow to thy heart, and make +it a part of thee, and it shall nourish thee till thou art strong +again. + +The shadows of the mind are like those of the body. In the morning of +life they all lie behind us; at noon, we trample them under foot; and +in the evening they stretch long, broad, and deepening before us. Are +not, then, the sorrows of childhood as dark as those of age? Are not +the morning shadows of life as deep and broad as those of its evening? +Yes; but morning shadows soon fade away, while those of evening reach +forward into the night and mingle with the coming darkness. Man is +begotten in delight and born in pain; and in these are the rapture and +labor of his life fore-shadowed from the beginning. But thelife of man +upon this fair earth is made up for the most part of little pains and +little pleasures. The great wonder-flowers bloom but once in a +lifetime. + +A week had already elapsed since the events recorded in the last +chapter. Paul Flemming went his way, a melancholy man, "drinking the +sweet wormwood of his sorrow." He did not rail at Providence and call +it fate, but suffered and was silent. It is a beautiful trait in the +lover's character, that he thinks no evil of the object loved. What he +suffered was no swift storm of feeling, that passes away with a noise, +and leaves the heart clearer; but a dark phantom had risen up in the +clear night, and, like that of Adamastor, hid the stars; and if it ever +vanished away for a season, still the deep sound of the moaning main +would be heard afar, through many a dark and lonely hour. And thus he +journeyed on, wrapped in desponding gloom, and mainly heedless of all +things around him. His mind was distempered. That one face was always +before him; that one voice forever saying; + +"You are not the Magician." + +Painful, indeed, it is to be misunderstood and undervalued by those we +love. But this, too, in our life, must we learn to bear without a +murmur; for it is a tale often repeated. + +There are persons in this world to whom all local associations are +naught. The genius of the place speaks not to them. Even on +battle-fields, where the voice of this genius is wont to be loudest, +they hear only the sound of their own voices; they meet there only +their own dull and pedantic thoughts, as the old grammarian Brunetto +Latini met on the plain of Roncesvalles a poor student riding on a bay +mule. This was not always the case with Paul Flemming, but it had +become so now. He felt no interest in the scenery around him. He hardly +looked at it. Even the difficult mountain-passes, where, from his rocky +eyrie the eagle-eyed Tyrolese peasant had watched his foe, and the +roaring, turbid torrent underneath, which had swallowed up the bloody +corse, that fell from the rocks like a crushed worm, awakened no lively +emotion in his breast. All around him seemed dreamy and vague; all +within dim, as in a sun's eclipse. As the moon, whether visible or +invisible, has power over the tides of the ocean, so the face of that +lady, whether present or absent, had power over the tides of his soul; +both by day and night, both waking and sleeping. In every pale face and +dark eye he saw a resemblance to her; and what the day denied him in +reality, the night gave him in dreams. + +"This is a strange, fantastic world," said Berkley, after a very long +silence, during which the two travellers had been sitting each in his +corner of the travelling carriage, wrapped in his own reflections. "A +very strange, fantastic world; where each one pursues his own golden +bubble, and laughs at his neighbour for doing the same. I have been +thinking how a moral Linnæus would classify our race. I think he would +divide it, not as Lord Byron did, into two great classes, the bores and +those who are bored, but into three, namely; Happy Men, Lucky Dogs, and +Miserable Wretches. This is more true and philosophical, though perhaps +not quite so comprehensive. He is the Happy Man, who, blessed with +modest ease, a wife and children,--sits enthroned in the hearts of his +family, and knows no other ambition, than that of making those around +him happy. But the Lucky Dog is he, who, free from all domestic cares, +saunters up and down his room, in morning gown and slippers; drums on +the window of a rainy day; and, as he stirs his evening fire, snaps his +fingers at the world, and says, 'I have no wife nor children, good or +bad, to provide for.' I had a friend, who is now no more. He was taken +away in the bloom of life, by a very rapid--widow. He was by birth and +by profession a beau,--born with a quizzing-glass and a cane. Cock of +the walk, he flapped his wings, and crowed among the feathered tribe. +But alas! a fair, white partlet has torn his crest out, and he shall +crow no more. You will generally find him of a morning, smelling round +a beef-cart, with domestic felicity written in every line of his +countenance; and sometimes meet him in a cross-street at noon, hurrying +homeward, with a beef-steak on a wooden skewer, or a fresh fish, with a +piece of tarred twine run through its gills. In the evening he rocks +the cradle, and gets up in the night when the child cries. Like a Goth, +of the Dark Ages, he consults his wife on all mighty matters, and looks +upon her as a being of more than human goodness and wisdom. In short, +the ladies all say he is a very domestic man, and makes a good husband; +which, under the rose, is only a more polite way of saying he is +hen-pecked. He is a Happy Man. I have another dear friend, who is a +sexagenary bachelor. He has one of those well-oiled dispositions, which +turn upon the hinges of the world without creaking. The hey-day of life +is over with him; but his old age is sunny and chirping; and a merry +heart still nestles in his tottering frame, like a swallow that builds +in a tumble-down chimney. He is a professed Squire of Dames. The rustle +of a silk gown is music to his ears, and his imagination is +continuallylantern-led by some will-with-a-wisp in the shape of a +lady's stomacher. In his devotion to the fair sex,--the muslin, as he +calls it,--he is the gentle flower of chivalry. It is amusing to see +how quick he strikes into the scent of a lady's handkerchief. When once +fairly in pursuit, there is no such thing as throwing him out. His +heart looks out at his eye; and his inward delight tingles down to the +tail of his coat. He loves to bask in the sunshine of a smile; when he +can breathe the sweet atmosphere of kid gloves and cambric +handkerchiefs, his soul is in its element; and his supreme delight is +to pass the morning, to use his own quaint language, 'in making dodging +calls, and wiggling round among the ladies!' He is a lucky dog!" + +"And as a specimen of the class of Miserable Wretches, I suppose you +will take me," said Flemming, making an effort to enter into his +friend's humor. "Certainly I am wretched enough. You may make me the +stuffed bear,--the specimen of this class." + +"By no means," replied Berkley; "you are not reduced so low. He only is +utterly wretched, who is the slave of his own passions, or those of +others. This, I trust, will never be your condition. Why so wan and +pale, fond lover? Do you remember Sir John Suckling's Song? + +'Why so wan and pale, fond lover; + +Pr'ythee why so pale? + +Will, if looking well can't move her, + +Looking ill prevail? + +Pr'ythee why so pale? + +'Why so dull and mute, young sinner; + +Pr'ythee why so mute? + +Will, if speaking well can't win her, + +Saying nothing do 't? + +Pr'ythee why so mute? + +'Quit, quit, for shame! this cannot move, + +This cannot take her! + +If of herself she do not love, + +Nothing will make her! + +The devil take her!' + +How do you like that?" + +"To you I say quit, quit for shame;" replied Flemming. "Why quote the +songs of that witty and licentious age? Have you no better consolation +to offer me? How many, many times must I tell you, that I bear the lady +no ill-will. I do not blame her for not loving me. I desire her +happiness, even at the sacrifice of my own." + +"That is generous in you, and deserves a better fate. But you are so +figurative in all you say, that a stranger would think you had no real +feeling,--and only fancied yourself in love." + +"Expression of feeling is different with different minds. It is not +always simple. Some minds, when excited, naturally speak in figures and +similitudes. They do not on that account feel less deeply. This is +obvious in our commonest modes of speech. It depends upon the +individual." + +"Kyrie Eleëson!" + +"Well, abuse my figures of speech as much as you please. What I insist +upon is, that you shall not abuse the lady. When did you ever hear me +breathe a whisper against her?" + +"Oho! Now you speak like Launce to his dog!" + +Their conversation, which had begun so merrily, was here suddenly +interrupted by a rattling peal of thunder, that announced a +near-approaching storm. It was late in the afternoon, and the whole +heaven black with low, trailing clouds. Still blacker the storm came +sailing up majestically from the southwest, with almost unbroken +volleys of distant thunder. The wind seemed to be storming a cloud +redoubt; and marched onward with dust, and the green banners of the +trees flapping in the air, and heavy cannonading, and occasionally an +explosion, like the blowing up of a powder-wagon. Mingled with this was +the sound of thunder-bells from a village not far off. They were all +ringing dolefully to ward off the thunderbolt. At the entrance of the +village stood a large wooden crucifix; around which was a crowd of +priests and peasants, kneeling in the wet grass, by the roadside, with +their hands and eyes lifted toheaven, and praying for rain. Their +prayer was soon answered. + +The travellers drove on with the driving wind and rain. They had come +from Landeck, and hoped to reach Innsbruck before midnight. Night +closed in, and Flemming fell asleep with the loud storm overhead, and +at his feet the roaring Inn, a mountain torrent leaping onward as wild +and restless, as when it first sprang from its cradle in the solitudes +of Engaddin; meet emblem of himself, thus rushing through the night. +His slumber was long, but broken; and at length he awoke in terror; for +he heard a voice pronounce in his ear distinctly these words; + +"They have brought the dead body." + +They were driving by a churchyard at the entrance of a town; and among +the tombs a dim lamp was burning before an image of the Virgin. It had +a most unearthly appearance. Flemming almost feared to see the +congregation of the dead go into the church and sing their midnight +mass. He spoke to Berkley; but received no answer; he was in a deep +sleep. + +"Then it was only a dream," said he to himself; "yet how distinct the +voice was! O, if we had spiritual organs, to see and hear things now +invisible and inaudible to us, we should behold the whole air filled +with the departing souls of that vast multitude which every moment +dies,--should behold them streaming up like thin vapors heaven-ward, +and hear the startling blast of the archangel's trump sounding +incessant through the universe and proclaiming the awful judgment day. +Truly the soul departs not alone on its last journey, but spirits of +its kind attend it, when not ministering angels; and they go in +families to the unknown land! Neither in life nor in death are we +alone." + +He slept again at intervals; and at length, though long after midnight, +reached Innsbruck between sleeping and waking; his mind filled with dim +recollections of the unspeakably dismal night-journey;--the climbing of +hills, and plunging into dark ravines;--the momentary rattling of the +wheels over paved streets of towns, and the succeeding hollow rolling +and tramping on the wetearth;--the blackness of the night;--the thunder +and lightning and rain; the roar of waters, leaping through deep chasms +by the road-side, and the wind through the mountain-passes, sounding +loud and long, like the irrepressible laughter of the gods. + +The travellers on the morrow lingered not long in Innsbruck. They did +not fail, however, to visit the tomb of Maximilian in the Franciscan +Church of the Holy Cross, and gaze with some admiration upon the +twenty-eight gigantic bronze statues of Godfrey of Bouillon, and King +Arthur and Ernest the Iron-man, and Frederick of the Empty Pockets, +kings and heroes, and others, which stand leaning on their swords +between the columns of the church, as if guarding the tomb of the dead. +These statues reminded Flemming of the bronze giants, which strike the +hours on the belfry of San Basso, in Venice, and of the flail-armed +monsters, that guarded the gateway of Angulaffer's castle in Oberon. +After gazing awhile at these motionless sentinels, they went forth, and +strolled throughthe public gardens, with the jagged mountains right +over their heads, and all around them tall, melancholy pines, like +Tyrolese peasants, with shaggy hair; and at their feet the mad torrent +of the Inn, sweeping with turbid waves through the midst of the town. +In the afternoon they drove on towards Salzburg through the magnificent +mountain-passes of Waidering and Unken. + + + + +CHAPTER III. SHADOWS ON THE WALL. + +On the following morning Flemming awoke in a chamber of the Golden Ship +at Salzburg, just as the clock in the Dome-church opposite was striking +ten. The window-shutters were closed, and the room nearly dark. He was +lying on his back, with his hands crossed upon his breast, and his eyes +looking up at the white curtains overhead. He thought them the white +marble canopy of a tomb, and himself the marble statue, lying beneath. +When the clock ceased striking, the eight and twenty gigantic bronze +statues from the Church of Holy Rood in Innsbruck stalked into the +chamber, and arranged themselves along the walls, which spread into +dimly-lighted aisles and arches. On the painted windows he saw +Interlachen, withits Franciscan cloister, and the Square Tower of the +ruins. In a pendent, overhead, stood the German student, as Saint +Vitus; and on a lavatory, or basin of holy-water, below, sat a cherub, +with the form and features of Berkley. Then the organ-pipes began to +blow, and he heard the voices of an invisible choir chanting. And anon +the gilded gates in the bronze screen before the chancel opened, and a +bridal procession passed through. The bride was clothed in the garb of +the Middle Ages; and held a book in her hand, with velvet covers, and +golden clasps. It was Mary Ashburton. She looked at him as she passed. +Her face was pale; and there were tears in her sweet eyes. Then the +gates closed again; and one of the oaken poppy-heads over a carved +stall, in the shape of an owl, flapped its broad wings, and hooted, +"Towhit! to-whoo!" Then the whole scene changed; and he thought himself +a monk's-head on a gutterspout; and it rained dismally; and Berkley was +standing under with an umbrella, laughing! + +In other words, Flemming was in a ragingfever, and delirious. He +remained in this state for a week. The first thing he was conscious of +was hearing the doctor say to Berkley; + +"The crisis is passed. I now consider him out of danger." + +He then fell into a sweet sleep; the wild fever had swept away like an +angry, red cloud, and the refreshing summer rain began to fall like dew +upon the parched earth. Still another week; and Flemming was, "sitting +clothed, and in his right mind." Berkley had been reading to him; and +still held the book in his hand, with his fore-finger between the +leaves. It was a volume of Hoffmann's writings. + +"How very strange it is," said he, "that you can hardly open the +biography of any German author, but you will find it begin with an +account of his grandfather. It will tell you how the venerable old man +walked up and down the garden among the gay flowers, wrapped in his +morning gown, which is likewise covered with flowers, and perhaps +wearing on his head a little velvet cap. Oryou will find him sitting by +the chimney-corner in the great chair, smoking his ancestral pipe, with +shaggy eyebrows and eyes like birdsnests under the eaves of a house, +and a mouth like a Nuremberg nutcracker's. The future poet climbs upon +the old man's knees. His genius is not recognised yet. He is thought +for the most part a dull boy. His father is an austere man, or perhaps +dead. But the mother is still there, a sickly, saint-like woman, with +knitting-work, and an elder sister, who has already been in love, and +wears rings on her fingers;-- + +'Death's heads, and such mementos, + +Her grandmother and worm-eaten aunts left to her, + +To tell her what her beauty must arrive at.' " + +"But this is not the case with the life of Hoffmann, if I recollect +right." + +"No, not precisely. Instead of the grandfather we have the grandmother, +a stately dame, who has long since shaken hands with the vanities of +life. The mother, separated from her husband, is sick in mind and body, +and flits to and fro, like a shadow. Then there is an affectionate +maiden aunt; and an uncle, a retired judge, the terror of little +boys,--the Giant Despair of this Doubting Castle in Koenigsberg; and +occasionally the benign countenance of a venerable grand-uncle, whom +Lamotte Fouqué called a hero of the olden time in morning gown and +slippers, looks in at the door and smiles. In the upper story of the +same house lived a poor boy with his mother, who was so far crazed as +to believe herself to be the Virgin Mary, and her son the Saviour of +the world. Wild fancies, likewise, were to sweep through the brain of +that child. He was to meet Hoffmann elsewhere and be his friend in +after years, though as yet they knew nothing of each other. This was +Werner, who has made some noise in German literature as the author of +many wild Destiny-Dramas." + +"Hoffmann died, I believe, in Berlin." + +"Yes. He left Koenigsberg at twenty years of age, and passed the next +eight years of his life in the Prussian-Polish Provinces, where he held +some petty office under government; and took to himselfmany bad habits +and a Polish wife. After this he was Music-Director at various German +theatres, and led a wandering, wretched life for ten years. He then +went to Berlin as Clerk of the Exchange, and there remained till his +death, which took place some seven or eight years afterward." + +"Did you ever see him?" + +"I was in Berlin during his lifetime, and saw him frequently. I shall +never forget the first time. It was at one of the æsthetic Teas, given +by a literary lady Unter den Linden, where the lions were fed with +convenient food, from tea and bread and butter, up to oysters and +Rhine-wine. During the evening my attention was arrested by the +entrance of a strange little figure, with a wild head of brown hair. +His eyes were bright gray; and his thin lips closely pressed together +with an expression of not unpleasing irony. This strangelooking +personage began to bow his way through the crowd, with quick, nervous, +hinge-like motions, much resembling those of a marionette. He had a +hoarse voice, and such a rapid utterance, that although I understood +German well enough for ordinary purposes, I could not understand one +half he said. Ere long he had seated himself at the piano-forte, and +was improvising such wild, sweet fancies, that the music of one's +dreams is not more sweet and wild. Then suddenly some painful thought +seemed to pass over his mind, as if he imagined, that he was there to +amuse the company. He rose from the piano-forte, and seated himself in +another part of the room; where he began to make grimaces, and talk +loud while others were singing. Finally he disappeared, like a +hobgoblin, laughing, 'Ho! ho! ho!' I asked a person beside me who this +strange being was. 'That was Hoffmann,' was the answer. 'The Devil!' +said I. 'Yes,' continued my informant; 'and if you should follow him +now, you would see him plunge into an obscure and unfrequented +wine-cellar, and there, amid boon companions, with wine and +tobacco-smoke, and quirks and quibbles, and quaint, witty sayings, turn +the dim night into glorious day.' " + +"What a strange being!" + +"I once saw him at one of his night-carouses. He was sitting in his +glory, at the head of the table; not stupidly drunk, but warmed with +wine, which made him madly eloquent, as the Devil's Elixir did the Monk +Medardus. There, in the full tide of witty discourse, or, if silent, +his gray, hawk eye flashing from beneath his matted hair, and taking +note of all that was grotesque in the company round him, sat this +unfortunate genius, till the day began to dawn. Then he found his way +homeward, having, like the souls of the envious in Purgatory, his +eyelids sewed together with iron wire;--though his was from champagne +bottles. At such hours he wrote his wild, fantastic tales. To his +excited fancy everything assumed a spectral look. The shadows of +familiar things about him stalked like ghosts through the haunted +chambers of his soul; and the old portraits on the walls winked at him, +and seemed stepping down from their frames; till, aghast at the +spectral throng about him, he would call his wife from her bed, to sit +by him while he wrote." + +"No wonder he died in the prime of life!" + +"No. The only wonder is, that he could have followed this course of +life for six years. I am astonished that it did not kill him sooner." + +"But death came at last in an appalling shape." + +"Yes; his forty-sixth birth day found him sitting at home in his +arm-chair, with his friends around him. But the rare old wine,--he +always drank the best,--touched not the sick-man's lips that night. His +wonted humor was gone. Of all his 'jibes, his gambols, his songs, his +flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar, not +one now, to mock his own grinning!--quite chap-fallen.'--The +conversation was of death and the grave. And when one of his friends +said, that life was not the highest good, Hoffmann interrupted him, +exclaiming with a startling earnestness; 'No, no! Life, life, only +life! on any condition whatsoever!' Five months after this he had +ceased to suffer, because he had ceased to live. He died piecemeal. His +feet and hands, his legs and arms, gradually, and in succession, became +motionless, dead. But his spirit was not dead, nor motionless; and, +through the solitary day or sleepless night, lying in his bed, he +dictated to an amanuensis his last stories. Strange stories, indeed, +were they for a dying man to write! Yet such delight did he take in +dictating them, that he said to his friend Hitzig, that, upon the +whole, he was willing to give up forever the use of his hands, if he +could but preserve the power of writing by dictation. Such was his love +of life,--of what he called the sweet habitude of being!" + +"Was it not he, who in his last hours expressed such a longing to +behold the green fields once more; and exclaimed; 'Heaven! it is +already summer, and I have not yet seen a single green tree!' " + +"Yes, that was Hoffmann. Soon afterwards he died. The closing scene was +striking. He gradually lost all sensation, though his mind remained +vigorous. Feeling no more pain, he said to his physician; 'It will soon +be over now. I feel no more pain.' He thought himself well again; but +the physician knew that he was dying, and said; 'Yes, it will soon be +over!' The next morning he called his wife to his bed-side; and begged +her to fold his motionless hands together. Then, as he raised his eyes +to heaven, she heard him say, 'We must, then, think of God, also!' More +sorrowful words than these have seldom fallen from the lips of man. +Shortly afterwards the flame of life glared up within him; he said he +was well again; that in the evening he should go on with the story he +was writing; and wished that the last sentence might be read over to +him. Shortly after this they turned his face to the wall, and he died." + +"And thus passed to its account a human soul, after much self-inflicted +suffering. Let us tread lightly upon the poet's ashes. For my part, I +confess, that I have not the heart to take him from the general crowd +of erring, sinful men, and judge him harshly. The little I have seen of +the world, and know of the history of mankind, teaches me to look upon +the errors of others in sorrow, not inanger. When I take the history of +one poor heart that has sinned and suffered, and represent to myself +the struggles and temptations it has passed,--the brief pulsations of +joy,--the feverish inquie-tude of hope and fear,--the tears of +regret,--the feebleness of purpose,--the pressure of want,--the +desertion of friends,--the scorn of a world that has little +charity,--the desolation of the soul's sanctuary,--and threatening +voices within,--health gone,--happiness gone,--even hope, that stays +longest with us, gone,--I have little heart for aught else than +thankfulness, that it is not so with me, and would fain leave the +erring soul of my fellow-man with Him, from whose hands it came, + +'even as a little child, + +Weeping and laughing in its childish sport.' " + +"You are right. And it is worth a student's while to observe calmly how +tobacco, wine, and midnight did their work like fiends upon the +delicate frame of Hoffmann; and no less thoroughly upon his delicate +mind. He who drinks beer, thinks beer; and he who drinks wine, thinks +wine;--and he who drinks midnight, thinks midnight. He was a man of +rare intellect. He was endowed with racy humor and sarcastic wit, and a +glorious imagination. But the fire of his genius burned not peacefully, +and with a steady flame, upon the hearth of his home. It was a glaring +and irregular flame;--for the branches that he fed it with, were not +branches from the Tree of Life,--but from another tree that grew in +Paradise,--and they were wet with the unhealthy dews of night, and more +unhealthy wine; and thus, amid smoke and ashes the fire burned +fitfully, and went out with a glare, which leaves the beholder blind." + +"This fire within him was a Meleager's fire-brand; and, when it burned +out, he died. And, as you say, marks of all this are clearly visible in +Hoffmann's writings. Indeed, when I read his strange fancies, it is +with me, as when in the summer night I hear the rising wind among the +trees, and the branches bow, and beckon with their long fingers, and +voices go gibbering and mockingthrough the air. A feeling of awe and +mysterious dread comes over me. I wish to hear the sound of living +voice or footstep near me,--to see a friendly and familiar face. In +truth, if it be late at night, the reader as well as the writer of +these unearthly fancies, would fain have a patient, meek-eyed wife, +with her knitting-work, at his elbow." + +Berkley smiled; but Flemming continued without noticing the smile, +though he knew what was passing in the mind of his friend; + +"The life and writings of this singular being interest me in a high +degree. Oftentimes one may learn more from a man's errors, than from +his virtues. Moreover, from the common sympathies of our nature, souls +that have struggled and suffered are dear to me. Willingly do I +recognise their brotherhood. Scars upon their foreheads do not so +deform them, that they cease to interest. They are always signs of +struggle; though alas! too often, likewise, of defeat. Seasons of +unhealthy, dreamy, vague delight, are followed by seasons ofweariness +and darkness. Where are then the bright fancies, that, amid the great +stillness of the night, arise like stars in the firmament of our souls? +The morning dawns, the light of common day shines in upon us, and the +heavens are without a star! From the lives of such men we learn, that +mere pleasant sensations are not happiness;--that sensual pleasures are +to be drunk sparingly, and, as it were, from the palm of the hand; and +that those who bow down upon their knees to drink of these bright +streams that water life, are not chosen of God either to overthrow or +to overcome!" + +"I think you are very lenient in your judgment. This is not the usual +defect of critics. Like Shakspeare's samphire-gatherer, they have a +dreadful trade! and, to make the simile complete, they ought to hang +for it!" + +"Methinks it would be hard to hang a man for the sake of a simile. But +which of Hoffmann's works is it, that you have in your hand?" + +"His Phatasy-Pieces in Callot's manner. Who was this Callot?" + +"He was a Lorrain painter of the seventeenth century, celebrated for +his wild and grotesque conceptions. These sketches of Hoffmann are +imitations of his style. They are full of humor, poetry, and brilliant +imagination." + +"And which of them shall I read to you? The Ritter Glück; or the +Musical Sufferings of John Kreisler; or that very exquisite story of +the Golden Jar, wherein is depicted the life of Poesy, in this +common-place world of ours?" + +"Read the shortest. Read Kreisler. That will amuse me. It is a picture +of his own sufferings at the æsthetic Teas in Berlin, supposed to be +written in pencil on the blank leaves of a music-book." + +Thereupon Berkley leaned back in his easychair, and read as follows. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. MUSICAL SUFFERINGS OF JOHN KREISLER. + +"They are all gone! I might have known it by the whispering, shuffling, +coughing, buzzing through all the notes of the gamut. It was a true +swarm of bees, leaving the old hive. Gottlieb has lighted fresh candles +for me, and placed a bottle of Burgundy on the piano-forte. I can play +no more, I am perfectly exhausted. My glorious old friend here on the +music-stand is to blame for that. Again he has borne me away through +the air, as Mephistopheles did Faust, and so high, that I took not the +slightest notice of the little men under me, though I dare say they +made noise enough. A rascally, worthless, wasted evening! But now I am +well and merry! However, while I was playing, I took out my pencil, and +on pagesixty-three, under the last system, noted down a couple of good +flourishes in cipher with my right hand, while the left was struggling +away in the torrent of sweet sounds. Upon the blank page at the end I +go on writing. I leave all ciphers and sweet tones, and with true +delight, like a sick man restored to health, who can never stop +relating what he has suffered, I note down here circumstantially the +dire agonies of this evening's tea-party. And not for myself alone, but +likewise for all those who from time to time may amuse and edify +themselves with my copy of John Sebastian Bach's Variations for the +Piano-forte, published by Nägeli in Zürich, and who find my marks at +the end of the thirtieth variation, and, led on by the great Latin +Verte, (I will write it down the moment I get through this doleful +statement of grievances,) turn over the leaf and read. + +"They will at once see the connexion. They know, that the Geheimerath +Rödelein's house is a charming house to visit in, and that he has two +daughters, of whom the whole fashionable world proclaims with +enthusiasm, that they dance like goddesses, speak French like angels, +and play and sing and draw like the Muses. The Geheimerath Rödelein is +a rich man. At his quarterly dinners he brings on the most delicious +wines and richest dishes. All is established on a footing of the +greatest elegance; and whoever at his tea-parties does not amuse +himself heavenly, has no ton, no esprit, and particularly no taste for +the fine arts. It is with an eye to these, that, with the tea, punch, +wine, ice-creams, etc., a little music is always served up, which, like +the other refreshments, is very quietly swallowed by the fashionable +world. + +"The arrangements are as follows.--After every guest has had time +enough to drink as many cups of tea as he may wish, and punch and ices +have been handed round twice, the servants wheel out the card-tables +for the elder and more solid part of the company, who had rather play +cards than any musical instrument; and, to tell the truth, this kind of +playing does not make such a useless noise as others, and you hear only +the clink of money. + +"This is a hint for the younger part of the company to pounce upon the +Misses Rödelein. A great tumult ensues; in the midst of which you can +distinguish these words,-- + +"'Schönes Fräulein! do not refuse us the gratification of your heavenly +talent! O, sing something! that's a good dear!--impossible,--bad +cold,--the last ball! have not practised anything,--oh, do, do, we beg +of you,' etc. + +"Meanwhile Gottlieb has opened the piano-forte, and placed the +well-known music-book on the stand; and from the card-table cries the +respectable mamma,-- + +" 'Chantez donc, mes enfans!' + +"That is the cue of my part. I place myself at the piano-forte, and the +Rödeleins are led up to the instrument in triumph. + +"And now another difficulty arises. Neither wishes to sing first. + +"'You know, dear Nanette, how dreadful hoarse I am.' + +"'Why, my dear Marie, I am as hoarse as you are.' + +"'I sing so badly!--' + +"'O, my dear child; do begin!' + +"My suggestion, (I always make the same!) that they should both begin +together with a duet, is loudly applauded;--the music-book is thumbed +over, and the leaf, carefully folded down, is at length found, and away +we go with Dolce dell' anima, etc. + +"To tell the truth, the talent of the Misses Rödelein is not the +smallest. I have been an instructer here only five years, and little +short of two years in the Rödelein family. In this short time, Fräulein +Nanette has made such progress, that a tune, which she has heard at the +theatre only ten times, and has played on the piano-forte, at farthest, +ten times more, she will sing right off, so that you know in a moment +what it is. Fräulein Marie catches it at the eighth time; and if she is +sometimes a quarter of a note lower than the piano-forte, after all it +is very tolerable, considering her pretty little doll-face, and very +passable rosy-lips. + +"After the duet, a universal chorus of applause! And now arriettas and +duettinos succeed each other, and right merrily I hammer away at the +thousand-times-repeated accompaniment. During the singing, the +Finanzräthin Eberstein, by coughing and humming, has given to +understand that she also sings. Fräulein Nanette says; + +"'But, my dear Finanzräthin, now you must let us hear your exquisite +voice.' + +"A new tumult arises. She has a bad cold in her head,--she does not +know anything by heart! Gottlieb brings straightway two armfuls of +music-books; and the leaves are turned over again and again. First she +thinks she will sing Der Hölle Rache, etc., then Hebe sich, etc., then +Ach, Ich liebte, etc. In this embarrassment, I propose, Ein Veilchen +auf der Wiese, etc. But she is for the heroic style; she wants to make +a display, and finally selects the aria in Constantia. + +"O scream, squeak, mew, gurgle, groan, agonize, quiver, quaver, just as +much as you please, Madam,--I have my foot on the fortissimo pedal, and +thunder myself deaf! O Satan, Satan! which of thy goblins damned has +got into this throat, pinching, and kicking, and cuffing the tones +about so! Four strings have snapped already, and one hammer is lamed +for life. My ears ring again,--my head hums,--my nerves tremble! Have +all the harsh notes from the cracked trumpet of a strolling-player been +imprisoned in this little throat! (But this excites me,--I must drink a +glass of Burgundy.) + +"The applause was unbounded; and some one observed, that the +Finanzräthin and Mozart had put me quite in a blaze. I smiled with +downcast eyes, very stupidly. I could but acknowledge it. And now all +talents, which hitherto had bloomed unseen, were in motion, wildly +flitting to and fro. They were bent upon a surfeit of music; tuttis, +finales, choruses must be performed. The Canonicus Kratzer sings, you +know, a heavenly bass, as was observed by the gentleman yonder, with +the head of Titus Andronicus, who modestly remarked also, that he +himself was properly only a second-ratetenor; but, though he said it, +who should not say it, was nevertheless member of several academies of +music. Forthwith preparations are made for the first chorus in the +opera of Titus. It went off gloriously. The Canonicus, standing close +behind me, thundered out the bass over my head, as if he were singing +with bass-drums and trumpet obbligato in a cathedral. He struck the +notes gloriously; but in his hurry he got the tempo just about twice +too slow. However, he was true to himself at least in this, that +through the whole piece he dragged along just half a beat behind the +rest. The others showed a most decided penchant for the ancient Greek +music, which, as is well known, having nothing to do with harmony, ran +on in unison or monotone. They all sang treble, with slight variations, +caused by accidental rising and falling of the voice, say some quarter +of a note. + +"This somewhat noisy affair produced a universal tragic state of +feeling, namely a kind of terror, even at the card-tables, which for +the momentcould no longer, as before, chime in melodramatic, by weaving +into the music sundry exclamations; as, for instance; + +" 'O! I loved,--eight and forty,--was so happy,--I pass,--then I knew +not,--whist,--pangs of love,--follow suit,' etc.--It has a very pretty +effect. (I fill my glass.) + +"That was the highest point of the musical exhibition this evening. +'Now it is all over,' thought I to myself. I shut the book, and got up +from the piano-forte. But the baron, my ancient tenor, came up to me, +and said; + +" 'My dear Herr Capellmeister, they say you play the most exquisite +voluntaries! Now do play us one; only a short one, I entreat you!' + +"I answered very drily, that to-day my fantasies had all gone a +wool-gathering; and, while we are talking about it, a devil, in the +shape of a dandy, with two waistcoats, had smelt out Bach's Variations, +which were lying under my hat in the next room. He thinks they are +merely little variations, such as Nel cor mio non più sento, or Ah, +vous dirai-je, maman, etc., and insists upon it, that I shall play +them. I try to excuse myself, but they all attack me. So then, 'Listen, +and burst with ennui,' think I to myself,--and begin to work away. + +"When I had got to variation number three, several ladies departed, +followed by the gentleman with the Titus-Andronicus head. The +Rödeleins, as their teacher was playing, stood it out, though not +without difficulty, to number twelve. Number fifteen made the man with +two waistcoats take to his heels. Out of most excessive politeness, the +Baron stayed till number thirty, and drank up all the punch, which +Gottlieb placed on the piano-forte for me. + +"I should have brought all to a happy conclusion, but, alas! this +number thirty,--the theme,--tore me irresistibly away. Suddenly the +quarto leaves spread out to a gigantic folio, on which a thousand +imitations and developments of the theme stood written, and I could not +choose but play them. The notes became alive, and glimmered and hopped +all round about me,--an electric firestreamed through the tips of my +fingers into the keys,--the spirit, from which it gushed forth, spread +his broad wings over my soul, the whole room was filled with a thick +mist, in which the candles burned dim,--and through which peered forth +now a nose, and anon a pair of eyes, and then suddenly vanished away +again. And thus it came to pass, that I was left alone with my +Sebastian Bach, by Gottlieb attended, as by a familiar spirit. (Your +good health, Sir.) + +"Is an honest musician to be tormented with music, as I have been +to-day, and am so often tormented? Verily, no art is so damnably +abused, as this same glorious, holy Musica, who, in her delicate being, +is so easily desecrated. Have you real talent,--real feeling for art? +Then study music;--do something worthy of the art,--and dedicate your +whole soul to the beloved saint. If without this you have a fancy for +quavers and demi-semi-quavers, practise for yourself and by yourself, +and torment not therewith the Capellmeister Kreisler and others. + +"Well, now I might go home, and put the finishing touch to my sonata +for the piano-forte; but it is not yet eleven o'clock, and, withal, a +beautiful summer night. I will lay any wager, that, at my next-door +neighbour's, (the Oberjägermeister,) the young ladies are sitting at +the window, screaming down into the street, for the twentieth time, +with harsh, sharp, piercing voices, 'When thine eye is beaming +love,'--but only the first stanza, over and over again. Obliquely +across the way, some one is murdering the flute, and has, moreover, +lungs like Rameau's nephew; and, in notes of 'linked sweetness long +drawn out,' his neighbour is trying acoustic experiments on the French +horn. The numerous dogs of the neighbourhood are growing unquiet, and +my landlord's cat, inspired by that sweet duet, is making close by my +window (for, of course, my musico-poetic laboratory is an attic,) +certain tender confessions,--upward through the whole chromatic scale, +soft complaining, to the neighbour's puss, with whom he has been in +love since March last! Till this is all fairly over, II think will sit +quietly here. Besides, there is still blank paper and Burgundy left, of +which I forthwith take a sip. + +"There is, as I have heard, an ancient law, forbidding those, who +followed any noisy handicraft, from living near literary men. Should +not then musical composers, poor, and hard beset, and who, moreover, +are forced to coin their inspiration into gold, to spin out the thread +of life withal, be allowed to apply this law to themselves, and banish +out of the neighbourhood all ballad-singers and bagpipers? What would a +painter say, while transferring to his canvass a form of ideal beauty, +if you should hold up before him all manner of wild faces and ugly +masks? He might shut his eyes, and in this way, at least, quietly +follow out the images of fancy. Cotton, in one's ears, is of no use; +one still hears the dreadful massacre. And then the idea,--the bare +idea, 'Now they are going to sing,--now the horn strikes up,'--is +enough to send one's sublimest conceptions to the very devil." + + + + +CHAPTER V. SAINT GILGEN. + +It was a bright Sunday morning when Flemming and Berkley left behind +them the cloud-capped hills of Salzburg, and journeyed eastward towards +the lakes. The landscape around them was one to attune their souls to +holy musings. Field, forest, hill and vale, fresh air, and the perfume +of clover-fields and new-mown hay, birds singing, and the sound of +village bells, and the moving breeze among the branches,--no laborers +in the fields, but peasants on their way to church, coming across the +green pastures, with roses in their hats,--the beauty and quiet of the +holy day of rest,--all, all in earth and air, breathed upon the soul +like a benediction. + +They stopped to change horses at Hof, a handfulof houses on the brow of +a breezy hill, the church and tavern standing opposite to each other, +and nothing between them but the dusty road, and the churchyard, with +its iron crosses, and the fluttering tinsel of the funeral garlands. In +the churchyard and at the tavern-door, were groups of peasants, waiting +for divine service to begin. They were clothed in their holiday +dresses. The men wore breeches and long boots, and frock-coats with +large metal buttons; the women, straw hats, and gay calico gowns, with +short waists and scant folds. They were adorned with a profusion of +great, trumpery ornaments, and reminded Flemming of the Indians in the +frontier villages of America. Near the churchyard-gate was a booth, +filled with flaunting calicos; and opposite sat an old woman behind a +table, which was loaded with ginger-bread. She had a roulette at her +elbow, where the peasants risked a kreutzer for a cake. On other +tables, cases of knives, scythes, reaping-hooks, and other implements +of husbandry were offered for sale. + +The travellers continued their journey, without stopping to hear mass. +In the course of the forenoon they came suddenly in sight of the +beautiful Lake of Saint Wolfgang, lying deep beneath them in the +valley. On its shore, under them, sat the white village of Saint +Gilgen, like a swan upon its reedy nest. They seemed to have taken it +unawares, and as it were clapped their hands upon it in its sleep, and +almost expected to see it spread its broad, snow-white wings, and fly +away. The whole scene was one of surpassing beauty. + +They drove leisurely down the steep hill, and stopped at the village +inn. Before the door was a magnificent, broad-armed tree, with benches +and tables beneath its shadow. On the front of the house was written in +large letters, "Post-Tavern by Franz Schoendorfer"; and over this was a +large sun-dial, and a half-effaced painting of a bear-hunt, covering +the whole side of the house, and mostly red. Just as they drove up, a +procession of priests with banners, and peasants with their hats in +their hands, passed by towards the church. They were singing a solemn +psalm. At the same moment, a smart servant girl, with a black straw +hat, set coquettishly on her flaxen hair, and a large silver spoon +stuck in her girdle, came out of the tavern, and asked Flemming what he +would please to order for breakfast. + +Breakfast was soon ready, and was served up at the head of the stairs, +on an old-fashioned oaken table in the great hall, into which the +chambers opened. Berkley ordered at the same time a tub of cold water, +in which he seated himself, with his coat on, and a bed-quilt thrown +round his knees. Thus he sat for an hour; ate his breakfast, and smoked +a pipe, and laughed a good deal. He then went to bed and slept till +dinner time. Meanwhile Flemming sat in his chamber and read. It was a +large room in the front of the house, looking upon the village and the +lake. The windows were latticed, with small panes, and the window-sills +filled with fragrant flowers. + +At length the heat of the noon was over. Day, like a weary pilgrim, had +reached the westerngate of Heaven, and Evening stooped down to unloose +the latchets of his sandal-shoon. Flemming and Berkley sallied forth to +ramble by the borders of the lake. Down the cool, green glades and +alleys, beneath the illuminated leaves of the forest, over the rising +grounds, in the glimmering fretwork of sunshine and leaf-shadow,--an +exhilarating walk! The cool evening air by the lake was like a bath. +They drank the freshness of the hour in thirsty draughts, and their +breasts heaved rejoicing and revived, after the feverish, long +confinement of the sultry summer day. And there, too, lay the lake, so +beautiful and still! Did it not recall, think ye, the lake of Thun? + +On their return homeward they passed near the village churchyard. + +"Let us go in and see how the dead rest," said Flemming, as they passed +beneath the belfry of the church; and they went in, and lingered among +the tombs and the evening shadows. + +How peaceful is the dwelling-place of those who inhabit the green +hamlets, and populous cities of the dead! They need no antidote for +care,--nor armour against fate. No morning sun shines in at the closed +windows, and awakens them, nor shall until the last great day. At most +a straggling sunbeam creeps in through the crumbling wall of an old +neglected tomb,--a strange visiter, that stays not long. And there they +all sleep, the holy ones, with their arms crossed upon their breasts, +or lying motionless by their sides,--not carved in marble by the hand +of man, but formed in dust, by the hand of God. God's peace be with +them. No one comes to them now, to hold them by the hand, and with +delicate fingers smooth their hair. They heed no more the blandishments +of earthly friendship. They need us not, however much we may need them. +And yet they silently await our coming. + +Beautiful is that season of life, when we can say, in the language of +Scripture, "Thou hast the dew of thy youth." But of these flowers Death +gathers many. He places them upon his bosom, and his form becomes +transformed into somethingless terrific than before. We learn to gaze +and shudder not; for he carries in his arms the sweet blossoms of our +earthly hopes. We shall see them all again, blooming in a happier land. + +Yes, Death brings us again to our friends. They are waiting for us, and +we shall not live long. They have gone before us, and are like the +angels in heaven. They stand upon the borders of the grave to welcome +us, with the countenance of affection, which they wore on earth; yet +more lovely, more radiant, more spiritual! O, he spake well who said, +that graves are the foot-prints of angels. + +Death has taken thee, too, and thou hast the dew of thy youth. He has +placed thee upon his bosom, and his stern countenance wears a smile. +The far country, toward which we journey, seems nearer to us, and the +way less dark; for thou hast gone before, passing so quietly to thy +rest, that day itself dies not more calmly! + +It was in an hour of blessed communion with the souls of the departed, +that the sweet poet Henry Vaughan wrote those few lines, whichhave made +death lovely, and his own name immortal! + +"They are all gone into a world of light, + +And I alone sit lingering here! + +Their very memory is fair and bright, + +And my sad thoughts doth clear. + +"It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast, + +Like stars upon some gloomy grove, + +Or those faint beams in which the hill is dressed, + +After the sun's remove. + +"I see them walking in an air of glory, + +Whose light doth trample on my days, + +My days, which are at best but dull and hoary, + +Mere glimmerings and decays. + +"O holy hope, and high humility, + +High as the heavens above! + +These are your walks, and ye have showed them me, + +To kindle my cold love. + +"Dear, beauteous Death! the jewel of the just! + +Shining nowhere but in the dark! + +What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust, + +Could man outlook that mark! + +"He that hath found some fledged bird's nest, may know, + +At first sight, if the bird be flown; + +But what fair field or grove he sings in now, + +That is to him unknown. + +"And yet as angels, in some brighter dreams, + +Call to the soul, when man doth sleep, + +So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes, + +And into glory peep!" + +Such were Flemming's thoughts, as he stood among the tombs at evening +in the churchyard of Saint Gilgen. A holy calm stole over him. The +fever of his heart was allayed. He had a moment's rest from pain; and +went back to his chamber in peace. Whence came this holy calm, this +long-desired tranquillity? He knew not; yet the place seemed +consecrated. He resolved to linger there, beside the lake, which was a +Pool of Bethesda for him; and let Berkley go on alone to the baths of +Ischel. He would wait for him there in the solitude of Saint Gilgen. +Long after they had parted for the night, he sat in his chamber, and +thought of what he had suffered, and enjoyedthe silence within and +without. Hour after hour, slipped by unheeded, as he sat lost in his +reverie. At length, his candle sank in its socket, gave one flickering +gleam, and expired with a sob. This aroused him. + +He went to the window, and peered out into the dark night. It was very +late. Twice already since midnight had the great pulpit-orator Time, +like a preacher in the days of the Puritans, turned the hour-glass on +his high pulpit, the church belfry, and still went on with his sermon, +thundering downward to the congregation in the churchyard and in the +village. But they heard him not. They were all asleep in their narrow +pews, namely, in their beds and in their graves. Soon afterward the +cock crew; and the cloudy heaven, like the apostle, who denied his +Lord, wept bitterly. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. SAINT WOLFGANG. + +The morning is lovely beyond expression. The heat of the sun is great; +but a gentle wind cools the air. Birds never sang more loud and clear. +The flowers, too, on the window-sill, and on the table, rose, geranium, +and the delicate crimson cactus, are all so beautiful, that we think +the German poet right, when he calls the flowers "stars in the +firmament of the earth." Out of doors all is quiet. Opposite the window +stands the village schoolhouse. There are two parasite trees, with +their outspread branches nailed against the white walls, like the wings +of culprit kites. There the rods grow. Under them, on a bench at the +door, sit school-girls; and barefoot urchins in breeches are spelling +out their lessons. The clock strikestwelve, and one by one they +disappear, and go into the hive, like bees at the sound of a brass pan. +At the door of the next house sits a poor woman, knitting in the shade; +and in front of her is an aqueduct pouring its cool, clear water into a +rough wooden trough. A travelling carriage without horses, stands at +the inn-door, and a postilion in red jacket is talking with a +blacksmith, who wears blue woollen stockings and a leather apron. +Beyond is a stable, and still further a cluster of houses and the +village church. They are repairing the belfry and the bulbous steeple. +A little farther, over the roofs of the houses, you can see Saint +Wolfgang's Lake. Water so bright and beautiful hardly flows elsewhere. +Green, and blue, and silver-white run into each other, with almost +imperceptible change, like the streaks on the sides of a mackerel. And +above are the pinnacles of the mountains; some bald, and rocky, and +cone-shaped, and others bold, and broad, and dark with pines. + +Such was the scene, which Paul Flemming beheldfrom his window a few +mornings after Berkley's departure. The quiet of the place had soothed +him. He had become more calm. His heart complained less loudly in the +holy village silence, as we are wont to lower our voices when those +around us speak in whispers. He began to feel at times an interest in +the lowly things around him. The face of the landscape pleased him, but +more than this the face of the poor woman who sat knitting in the +shade. It was a pale, meek countenance, with more delicacy in its +features than is usual among peasantry. It wore also an expression of +patient suffering. As he was looking at her, a deformed child came out +of the door and hung upon her knees. She caressed him affectionately. +It was her child; in whom she beheld her own fair features distorted +and hardly to be recognised, as one sometimes sees his face reflected +from the bowl of a spoon. + +The child's deformity and the mother's tenderness interested the +feelings of Flemming. The landlady told him something of the poor +woman's history. She was the widow of a blacksmith, who had died soon +after their marriage. But she survived to become a mother, just as, in +oaks, immediately after fecundation, the male flower fades and falls, +while the female continues and ripens into perfect fruit. Alas! her +child was deformed. Yet she looked upon him with eyes of maternal +fondness and pity, loving him still more for his deformity. And in her +heart she said, as the Mexicans say to their new-born offspring, +"Child, thou art come into the world to suffer. Endure, and hold thy +peace." Though poor, she was not entirely destitute; for her husband +had left her, beside the deformed child, a life estate in a tomb in the +churchyard of Saint Gilgen. During the week she labored for other +people, and on Sundays for herself, by going to church and reading the +Bible. On one of the blank leaves she had recorded the day of her +birth, and that of her child's, likewise her marriage and her husband's +death. Thus she lived, poor, patient and resigned. Her heart was a +passion-flower, bearing within it the crown of thorns and the cross of +Christ. Her ideas of Heaven were few and simple. She rejected the +doctrine that it was a place of constant activity, and not of repose, +and believed, that, when she at length reached it, she should work no +more, but sit always in a clean white apron, and sing psalms. + +As Flemming sat meditating on these things, he paid new homage in his +heart to the beauty and excellence of the female character. He thought +of the absent and the dead; and said, with tears in his eyes; + +"Shall I thank God for the green Summer, and the mild air, and the +flowers, and the stars, and all that makes this world so beautiful, and +not for the good and beautiful beings I have known in it? Has not their +presence been sweeter to me than flowers? Are they not higher and +holier than the stars? Are they not more to me than all things else?" + +Thus the morning passed away in musings; andin the afternoon, when +Flemming was preparing to go down to the lake, as his custom was, a +carriage drew up before the door, and, to his great astonishment, out +jumped Berkley. The first thing he did was to give the Postmaster, who +stood near the door, a smart cut with his whip. The sufferer gently +expostulated, saying, + +"Pray, Sir, don't; I am lame." + +Whereupon Berkley desisted, and began instead to shake the Postmaster's +wife by the shoulders, and order his dinner in English. But all this +was done so good-naturedly, and with such a rosy, laughing face, that +no offence was taken. + +"So you have returned much sooner than you intended;" said Flemming, +after the first friendly salutations. + +"Yes," replied Berkley; "I got tired of Ischel,--very tired. I did not +find the friends there, whom I expected. Now I am going back to +Salzburg, and then to Gastein. There I shall certainly find them. You +must go with me." + +Flemming declined the invitation; and proposedto Berkley, that he +should join him in his excursion on the lake. + +"You shall hear the grand echo of the Falkenstein," said he, "and +behold the scene of the Bridal Tragedy; and then we will go on as far +as the village of Saint Wolfgang, which you have not yet seen, except +across the lake." + +"Well, this afternoon I devote to you; for to-morrow we part once more, +and who knows when we shall meet again?" + +They went down to the water's side without farther delay; and, taking a +boat with two oars, struck across an elbow of the lake towards a barren +rock by the eastern shore, from which a small white monument shone in +the sun. + +"That monument," said one of the boatmen, a stout young lad in leather +breeches, "was built by a butcher, to the glory of Saint Wolfgang, who +saved him from drowning. He was one day riding an ox to market along +the opposite bank; when the animal taking fright, sprang into the +water, and swam over to this place, with the butcher on his back." + +"And do you think he could have done this," asked Berkley; "if Saint +Wolfgang had not helped him?" + +"Of course not!" answered leather-breeches; and the Englishman laughed. + +From this point they rowed along under the shore to a low promontory, +upon which stood another monument, commemorating a more tragical event. + +"This is the place I was speaking of," said Flemming, as the boatmen +rested on their oars. "The melancholy and singular event it +commemorates happened more than two centuries ago. There was a bridal +party here upon the ice one winter; and in the midst of the dance the +ice broke, and the whole merry company were drowned together, except +the fiddlers, who were sitting on the shore." + +They looked in silence at the monument, and at the blue quiet water, +under which the bones of the dancers lay buried, hand in hand. The +monument is of stone, painted white, with an over-hangingroof to +shelter it from storms. In a niche in front is a small image of the +Saviour, in a sitting posture; and an inscription, upon a marble tablet +below, says that it was placed there by Longinus Walther and his wife +Barbara Juliana von Hainberg; themselves long since peacefully crumbled +to dust, side by side in some churchyard. + +"That was breaking the ice with a vengeance!" said Berkley, as they +pushed out into the lake again; and ere long they were floating beneath +the mighty precipice of Falkenstein; a steep wall of rock, crowned with +a chapel and a hermitage, where in days of old lived the holy Saint +Wolfgang. It is now haunted only by an echo, so distinct and loud, that +one might imagine the ghost of the departed saint to be sitting there, +and repeating the voices from below, not word by word, but sentence by +sentence, as if he were passing them up to the recording angel. + +"Ho! ho! ho!" shouted Berkley; and the sound seemed to strike the wall +of stone, like the flapping of steel plates; "Ho! ho! ho! How areyou +to-day, Saint Wolfgang! You infernal old rascal! How is the Frau von +Wolfgang!--God save great George the King! Damn your eyes! Hold your +tongue! Ho! ho! ha! ha! hi!" + +And the words were recorded above; and a voice repeated them with awful +distinctness in the blue depths overhead, and Flemming felt in his +inmost soul the contrast between the holy heavens, and the mockery of +laughter, and the idle words, which fall back from the sky above us and +soil not its purity. + +In half an hour they were at the village of Saint Wolfgang, threading a +narrow street, above which the roofs of quaint, picturesque old houses +almost met. It led them to a Gothic church; a magnificent one for a +village;--in front of which was a small court, shut in by +Italian-looking houses, with balconies, and flowers at the windows. +Here a bronze fountain of elaborate workmanship was playing in the +shade. On its summit stood an image of the patron Saint of the village; +and, running round the under lip of the water-basin below, they read +this inscription in old German rhymes; + +"I am in the honor of Saint Wolfgang raised. Abbot Wolfgang Habel of +Emensee, he hath made me for the use and delight of poor pilgrim wight. +Neither gold nor wine hath he; at this water shall he merry be. In the +year of the Lord fifteen hundred and fifteen, hath the work completed +been. God be praised!" + +As they were deciphering the rude characters of this pious inscription, +a village priest came down a high flight of steps from the parsonage +near the church, and courteously saluted the strangers. After returning +the salutation, the mad Englishman, without preface, asked him how many +natural children were annually born in the parish. The question seemed +to astonish the good father, but he answered it civilly, as he did +several other questions, which Flemming thought rather indiscreet, to +say the least. + +"You will excuse our curiosity," said he to the priest, by way of +apology. "We are strangersfrom distant countries. My friend is an +Englishman and I an American." + +Berkley, however, was not so easily silenced. After a few moments' +conversation he broke out into most audacious Latin, in which the only +words clearly intelligible were; + +"Plurimum reverende, in Christo religiosissime, ac clarissime Domine, +necnon et amice observandissime! Petrus sic est locutus; 'Nec argentum +mihi, nec aurum est; sed quod habeo, hoc tibi do; surge et ambula.' " + +He seemed to be speaking of the fountain. The priest answered meekly, + +"Non intellexi, Domine!" + +But Berkley continued with great volubility to speak of his being a +stranger in the land, and all men being strangers upon earth, and +hoping to meet the good priest hereafter in the kingdom of Heaven. The +priest seemed confounded, and abashed. Through the mist of a strange +pronunciation he could recognise only here and there afamiliar word. He +took out his snuff-box; and tried to quote a passage from Saint Paul; + +"Ut dixit Sanctus Paulus; qui bene facit--" + +Here his memory failed him, or, as the French say, he was at the end of +his Latin, and, stretching forth his long forefinger, he concluded in +German; + +"Yes;--I don't--so clearly remember--what he did say." + +The Englishman helped him through with a moral phrase; and then pulling +off his hat, exclaimed very solemnly; + +"Vale, domine doctissime et reverendissime!" + +And the Dominie, as if pursued by a demon, made a sudden and +precipitate retreat down a flight of steps into the street. + +"There!" said Berkley laughing, "I beat him at his own weapons. What do +you say of my Latin?" + +"I say of it," replied Flemming, "what Holophernes said of Sir +Nathaniel's; 'Priscian a little scratched; 't will serve.' I think I +have heardbetter. But what a whim! I thought I should have laughed +aloud." + +They were still sitting by the bronze fountain when the priest +returned, accompanied by a short man, with large feet, and a long blue +surtout, so greasy, that it reminded one of Polilla's in the Spanish +play, which was lined with slices of pork. His countenance was broad +and placid, but his blue eyes gleamed with a wild, mysterious, +sorrowful expression. Flemming thought the Latin contest was to be +renewed, with more powder and heavier guns. He was mistaken. The +stranger saluted him in German, and said, that, having heard he was +from America, he had come to question him about that distant country, +for which he was on the point of embarking. There was nothing peculiar +in his manner, nor in the questions he asked, nor the remarks he made. +They were the usual questions and remarks about cities and climate, and +sailing the sea. At length Flemming asked him the object of his journey +to America. Thestranger came close up to him, and lowering his voice, +said very solemnly; + +"That holy man, Frederick Baraga, missionary among the Indians at +Lacroix, on Lake Superior, has returned to his father-land, Krain; and +I am chosen by Heaven to go forth as Minister Extraordinary of Christ, +to unite all nations and people in one church!" + +Flemming almost started at the singular earnestness, with which he +uttered these words; and looked at him attentively, thinking to see the +face of a madman. But the modest, unassuming look of that placid +countenance was unchanged; only in the eyes burned a mysterious light, +as if candles had been lighted in the brain, to magnify the daylight +there. + +"It is truly a high vocation," said he in reply. "But are you sure, +that this is no hallucination? Are you certain, that you have been +chosen by Heaven for this great work?" + +"I am certain," replied the German, in a tone of great calmness and +sincerity; "and, if Saint Peter and Saint Paul should come down from +Heaven to assure me of it, my faith would be no stronger than it now +is. It has been declared to me by many signs and wonders. I can no +longer doubt, nor hesitate. I have already heard the voice of the +Spirit, speaking to me at night; and I know that I am an apostle; and +chosen for this work." + +Such was the calm enthusiasm with which he spoke, that Flemming could +not choose but listen. He felt interested in this strange being. There +was something awe-inspiring in the spirit that possessed him. After a +short pause he continued; + +"If you wish to know who I am, I can tell you in few words. I think you +will not find the story without interest." + +He then went on to relate the circumstances recorded in the following +chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. THE STORY OF BROTHER BERNARDUS. + +"I was born in the city of Stein, in the land of Krain. My pious mother +Gertrude sang me psalms and spiritual songs in childhood; and often, +when I awoke in the night, I saw her still sitting, patiently at her +work by the stove, and heard her singing those hymns of heaven, or +praying in the midnight darkness when her work was done. It was for me +she prayed. Thus, from my earliest childhood, I breathed the breath of +pious aspirations. Afterwards I went to Laybach as a student of +theology; and after the usual course of study, was ordained a priest. I +went forth to the care of souls; my own soul filled with the faith, +that ere long all people would be united in one church. Yet attimes my +heart was heavy, to behold how many nations there are who have not +heard of Christ; and how those, who are called Christians, are divided +into numberless sects, and how among these are many who are Christians +in name only. I determined to devote myself to the great work of the +one church universal; and for this purpose, to give myself wholly up to +the study of the Evangelists and the Fathers. I retired to the +Benedictine cloister of Saint Paul in the valley of Lavant. The +father-confessor in the nunnery of Laak, where I then lived, +strengthened me in this resolve. I had long walked with this angel of +God in a human form, and his parting benediction sank deep into my +soul. The Prince-Abbot Berthold, of blessed memory, was then head of +the Benedictine convent. He received me kindly, and led me to the +library; where I gazed with secret rapture on the vast folios of the +Christian Fathers, from which, as from an arsenal, I was to draw the +weapons of holy warfare. In the study of these, the year of my +noviciate passed. I becamea Franciscan friar; and took the name of +Brother Bernardus. Yet my course of life remained unchanged. I seldom +left the cloister; but sat in my cell, and pored over those tomes of +holy wisdom. About this time the aged confessor in Laak departed this +life. His death was made known to me in a dream. It must have been +after midnight, when I thought that I came into the church, which was +brilliantly lighted up. The dead body of the venerable saint was +brought in, attended by a great crowd. It seemed to me, that I must go +up into the pulpit and pronounce his funeral oration; and, as I +ascended the stairs, the words of my text came into my mind; 'Blessed +in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.' My funeral sermon +ended in a strain of exultation; and I awoke with 'Amen!' upon my lips. +A few days afterwards, I heard that on that night the old man died. +After this event I became restless and melancholy. I strove in vain to +drive from me my gloomy thoughts. I could no longer study. I was no +longer contented in the cloister. I even thought of leaving it. + +"One night I had gone to bed early, according to my custom, and had +fallen asleep. Suddenly I was awakened by a bright and wonderful light, +which shone all about me, and filled me with heavenly rapture. Shortly +after I heard a voice, which pronounced distinctly these words, in the +Sclavonian tongue; 'Remain in the cloister!' It was the voice of my +departed mother. I was fully awake; yet saw nothing but the bright +light, which disappeared, when the words had been spoken. Still it was +broad daylight in my chamber. I thought I had slept beyond my usual +hour. I looked at my watch. It was just one o'clock after midnight. +Suddenly the daylight vanished, and it was dark. In the morning I +arose, as if new-born, through the wonderful light, and the words of my +mother's voice. It was no dream. I knew it was the will of God that I +should stay; and I could again give myself up to quiet study. I read +the whole Bible through once more in theoriginal text; and went on with +the Fathers, in chronological order. Often, after the apparition of the +light, I awoke at the same hour; and though I heard no voice and saw no +light, yet was refreshed with heavenly consolation. + +"Not long after this an important event happened in the cloister. In +the absence of the deacon of the Abbey, I was to preach the +Thanksgiving sermon of Harvest-home. During the week the Prince-Abbot +Berthold gave up the ghost; and my sermon became at once a +Thanks-giving and Funeral Sermon. Perhaps it may not be unworthy of +notice, that I was thus called to pronounce the burial discourse over +the body of the last reigning, spiritual Prince Abbot in Germany. He +was a man of God, and worthy of this honor. + +"One year after this event, I was appointed Professor of Biblical +Hermeneutics in Klagenfurt, and left the Abbey forever. In Klagenfurt I +remained ten years, dwelling in the same house, and eating at the same +table, with seventeen other professors. Their conversation naturally +suggestednew topics of study, and brought to my notice books, which I +had never before seen. One day I heard at table, that Maurus +Cappellari, a monk of Camaldoli, had been elected Pope, under the name +of Gregory Sixteenth. He was spoken of as a very learned man, who had +written many books. At this time I was a firm believer in the Pope's +infallibility; and when I heard these books mentioned, there arose in +me an irresistible longing to read them. I inquired for them; but they +were nowhere to be had. At length I heard, that his most important +work, The Triumph of the Holy See, and of the Church, had been +translated into German and published in Augsburg. Ere long the precious +volume was in my hands. I began to read it with the profoundest awe. +The farther I read, the more my wonder grew. The subject was of the +deepest interest to me. I could not lay the book out of my hand, till I +had read it through with the closest attention. Now at length my eyes +were opened. I saw before me a monk, who had been educated in an +Italian cloister; who, indeed, had read much, and yet only what was +calculated to strengthen him in the prejudices of his childhood; and +who had entirely neglected those studies upon which a bishop should +most rely, in order to work out the salvation of man. I perceived at +the same time, that this was the strongest instrument for battering +down the walls, which separate Christian from Christian. I saw, though +as yet dimly, the way in which the union of Christians in the one true +church was to be accomplished. I knew not whether to be most astonished +at my own blindness, that, in all my previous studies, I had not +perceived, what the reading of this single book made manifest to me; or +at the blindness of the Pope, who had undertaken to justify such +follies, without perceiving that at the same moment he was himself +lying in fatal error. But since I have learned more thoroughly the ways +of the Lord, I am now no more astonished at this, but pray only to +Divine providence, who so mysteriously prepares all people to be united +in one true church. I no longer believed in the Pope's infallibility; +nay, I believed even, that, to the great injury of humanity, he lay in +fatal error. I felt, moreover, that now the time had fully come, when I +should publicly show myself, and found in America a parish and a +school, and become the spiritual guide of men, and the schoolmaster of +children. + +"It was then, and on that account, that I wrote in the Latin tongue my +great work on Biblical Hermeneutics. But in Germany it cannot be +published. The Austrian censor of the press cannot find time to read +it, though I think, that if I have spent so many laborious days and +sleepless nights in writing it, this man ought likewise to find time +enough not only to read it, but to examine all the grounds of my +reasoning, and point out to me any errors, if he can find any. +Notwithstanding, the Spirit gave me no repose, but urged me ever +mightily on to the perfection of my great work. + +"One morning I sat writing, under peculiar influences of the Spirit, +upon the Confusion of Tongues, the Division of the People, and the +importance ofthe study of Comparative Philology, in reference to their +union in one church. So wrapped was I in the thought, that I came late +into my lecture-room; and after lecture returned to my chamber, where I +wrote till the clock struck twelve. At dinner, one of the Professors +asked if any one had seen the star, about which so much was said. The +Professor of Physics, said, that the student Johannes Schminke had come +to him in the greatest haste, and besought him to go out and see the +wonderful star; but, being incredulous about it, he made no haste, and, +when they came into the street, the star had disappeared. When I heard +the star spoken of, my soul was filled with rapture; and a voice within +me seemed to say, 'The great time is approaching; labor unweariedly in +thy work.' I sought out the student; and like Herod, inquired +diligently what time the star appeared. He informed me, that, just as +the clock was striking eight, in the morning, he went out of his house +to go to the college, and saw on the square a crowd looking at a bright +star. It was the veryhour, when I was writing alone in my chamber on +the importance of Comparative Philology in bringing about the union of +all nations. I felt, that my hour had come. Strangely moved, I walked +up and down my chamber. The evening twilight came on. I lighted my +lamp, and drew the green curtains before the windows, and sat down to +read. But hardly had I taken the book into my hand, when the Spirit +began to move me, and urge me then to make my last decision and +resolve. I made a secret vow, that I would undertake the voyage to +America. Suddenly my troubled thoughts were still. An unwonted rapture +filled my heart. I sat and read till the supper bell rang. They were +speaking at table of a red glaring meteor, which had just been seen in +the air, southeast from Klagenfurt; and had suddenly disappeared with a +dull, hollow sound. It was the very moment at which I had taken my +final resolution to leave my native land. Every great purpose and event +of my life, seemed heralded and attended by divine messengers; the +voices of thedead; the bright morning star, shining in the clear +sunshine; and the red meteor in the evening twilight. + +"I now began seriously to prepare for my departure. The chamber I +occupied, had once been the library of a Franciscan convent. Only a +thick wall separated it from the church. In this wall was a niche, with +heavy folding-doors, which had served the Franciscans as a repository +for prohibited books. Here also I kept my papers, and my great work on +Biblical Hermeneutics. The inside of the doors was covered with +horrible caricatures of Luther, Melancthon, Calvin, and other great +men. I used often to look at them with the deepest melancholy, when I +thought that these great men likewise had labored upon earth, and +fought with Satan in the church. But they were persecuted, denounced, +condemned to die. So perhaps will it be with me. I thought of this +often; and armed myself against the fear of death. I was in constant +apprehension, lest the police should search my chamber during my +absence, and, by examining my papers, discover my doctrine and designs. +But the Spirit said to me; 'Be of good cheer; I will so blind the eyes +of thy enemies, that it shall not once occur to them to think of thy +writings.' + +"At length, after many difficulties and temptations of the Devil, I am +on my way to America. Yesterday I took leave of my dearest friend, +Gregory Kuscher, in Hallstadt. He seemed filled with the Spirit of God, +and has wonderfully strengthened me in my purpose. All the hosts of +heaven looked on, and were glad. The old man kissed me at parting; and +I ascended the mountain as if angels bore me up in their arms. Near the +summit, lay a newly fallen avalanche, over which, as yet, no footsteps +had passed. This was my last temptation. 'Ha!' cried I aloud, 'Satan +has prepared a snare for me; but I will conquer him with godly +weapons.' I sprang over the treacherous snow, with greater faith than +St. Peter walked the waters of the Lake of Galilee; and came down the +valley, while the mountain peaks yetshone in the setting sun. God +smiles upon me. I go forth, full of hopeful courage. On Christmas next, +I shall excommunicate the Pope." + +Saying these words, he slowly and solemnly took his leave, like one +conscious of the great events which await him, and withdrew with the +other priest into the church. Flemming could not smile as Berkley did; +for in the solitary, singular enthusiast, who had just left them, he +saw only another melancholy victim to solitude and over-labor of the +brain; and felt how painful a thing it is, thus to become unconsciously +the alms-man of other men's sympathies, a kind of blind beggar for the +charity of a good wish or a prayer. + +The sun was now setting. Silently they floated back to Saint Gilgen, +amid the cool evening shadows. The village clock struck nine as they +landed; and as Berkley was to depart early in the morning, he went to +bed betimes. On bidding Flemming good night he said; + +"I shall not see you in the morning; so good bye, and God bless you. +Remember my partingwords. Never mind trifles. In this world a man must +either be anvil or hammer. Care killed a cat!" + +"I have heard you say that so often," replied Flemming, laughing, "that +I begin to believe it is true. But I wonder if Care shaved his left +eyebrow, after doing the deed, as the ancient Egyptians used to do!" + +"Aha! now you are sweeping cobwebs from the sky! Good night! Good +night!" + +A sorrowful event happened in the neighbourhood that night. The widow's +child died suddenly. "Woe is me!"--thus mourns the childless mother in +one of the funeral songs of Greenland; "Woe is me, that I should gaze +upon thy place and find it vacant! In vain for thee thy mother dries +the sea-drenched garments!" Not in these words, but in thoughts like +these, did the poor mother bewail the death of her child, thinking +mostly of the vacant place, and the daily cares and solicitudes of +maternal love. Flemming saw a light in her chamber, and shadows moving +toand fro, as he stood by the window, gazing into the starry, silent +sky. But he little thought of the awful domestic tragedy, which was +even then enacted behind those thin curtains! + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. FOOT-PRINTS OF ANGELS. + +It was Sunday morning; and the church bells were all ringing together. +From all the neighbouring villages, came the solemn, joyful sounds, +floating through the sunny air, mellow and faint and low,--all mingling +into one harmonious chime, like the sound of some distant organ in +heaven. Anon they ceased; and the woods, and the clouds, and the whole +village, and the very air itself seemed to pray, so silent was it +everywhere. + +Two venerable old men,--high priests and patriarchs were they in the +land,--went up the pulpit stairs, as Moses and Aaron went up Mount Hor, +in the sight of all the congregation,--for the pulpit stairs were in +front, and very high. + +Paul Flemming will never forget the sermon he heard that day,--no, not +even if he should live to be as old as he who preached it. The text +was, "I know that my Redeemer liveth." It was meant to console the +pious, poor widow, who sat right below him at the foot of the pulpit +stairs, all in black, and her heart breaking. He said nothing of the +terrors of death, nor of the gloom of the narrow house, but, looking +beyond these things, as mere circumstances to which the imagination +mainly gives importance, he told his hearers of the innocence of +childhood upon earth, and the holiness of childhood in heaven, and how +the beautiful Lord Jesus was once a little child, and now in heaven the +spirits of little children walked with him, and gathered flowers in the +fields of Paradise. Good old man! In behalf of humanity, I thank thee +for these benignant words! And, still more than I, the bereaved mother +thanked thee, and from that hour, though she wept in secret for her +child, yet + +"She knew he was with Jesus, + +And she asked him not again." + +After the sermon, Paul Flemming walked forth alone into the churchyard. +There was no one there, save a little boy, who was fishing with a pin +hook in a grave half full of water. But a few moments afterward, +through the arched gateway under the belfry, came a funeral procession. +At its head walked a priest in white surplice, chanting. Peasants, old +and young, followed him, with burning tapers in their hands. A young +girl carried in her arms a dead child, wrapped in its little winding +sheet. The grave was close under the wall, by the church door. A vase +of holy water stood beside it. The sexton took the child from the +girl's arms, and put it into a coffin; and, as he placed it in the +grave, the girl held over it a cross, wreathed with roses, and the +priest and peasants sang a funeral hymn. When this was over, the priest +sprinkled the grave and the crowd with holy water; and then they all +went into the church, each one stopping as he passed the grave to throw +a handful of earth into it, and sprinkle it with holy water. + +A few moments afterwards, the voice of the priest was heard saying mass +in the church, and Flemming saw the toothless old sexton treading the +fresh earth into the grave of the little child, with his clouted shoes. +He approached him, and asked the age of the deceased. The sexton leaned +a moment on his spade, and shrugging his shoulders replied; + +"Only an hour or two. It was born in the night, and died this morning +early?" + +"A brief existence," said Flemming. "The child seems to have been born +only to be buried, and have its name recorded on a wooden tombstone." + +The sexton went on with his work, and made no reply. Flemming still +lingered among the graves, gazing with wonder at the strange devices, +by which man has rendered death horrible and the grave loathsome. + +In the Temple of Juno at Elis, Sleep and his twin-brother Death were +represented as children reposing in the arms of Night. On various +funeral monuments of the ancients the Genius of Death issculptured as a +beautiful youth, leaning on an inverted torch, in the attitude of +repose, his wings folded and his feet crossed. In such peaceful and +attractive forms, did the imagination of ancient poets and sculptors +represent death. And these were men in whose souls the religion of +Nature was like the light of stars, beautiful, but faint and cold! +Strange, that in later days, this angel of God, which leads us with a +gentle hand, into the "Land of the great departed, into the silent +Land," should have been transformed into a monstrous and terrific +thing! Such is the spectral rider on the white horse;--such the ghastly +skeleton with scythe and hour-glass;--the Reaper, whose name is Death! + +One of the most popular themes of poetry and painting in the Middle +Ages, and continuing down even into modern times, was the Dance of +Death. In almost all languages is it written,--the apparition of the +grim spectre, putting a sudden stop to all business, and leading men +away into the "remarkable retirement" of the grave. Itis written in an +ancient Spanish Poem, and painted on a wooden bridge in Switzerland. +The designs of Holbein are well known. The most striking among them is +that, where, from a group of children sitting round a cottage hearth, +Death has taken one by the hand, and is leading it out of the door. +Quietly and unresisting goes the little child, and in its countenance +no grief, but wonder only; while the other children are weeping and +stretching forth their hands in vain towards their departing brother. A +beautiful design it is, in all save the skeleton. An angel had been +better, with folded wings, and torch inverted! + +And now the sun was growing high and warm. A little chapel, whose door +stood open, seemed to invite Flemming to enter and enjoy the grateful +coolness. He went in. There was no one there. The walls were covered +with paintings and sculpture of the rudest kind, and with a few funeral +tablets. There was nothing there to move the heart to devotion; but in +that hour the heart of Flemming was weak,--weak as a child's. He bowed +hisstubborn knees, and wept. And oh! how many disappointed hopes, how +many bitter recollections, how much of wounded pride, and unrequited +love, were in those tears, through which he read on a marble tablet in +the chapel wall opposite, this singular inscription; + +"Look not mournfully into the Past. It comes not back again. Wisely +improve the Present. It is thine. Go forth to meet the shadowy Future, +without fear, and with a manly heart." + +It seemed to him, as if the unknown tenant of that grave had opened his +lips of dust, and spoken to him the words of consolation, which his +soul needed, and which no friend had yet spoken. In a moment the +anguish of his thoughts was still. The stone was rolled away from the +door of his heart; death was no longer there, but an angel clothed in +white. He stood up, and his eyes were no more bleared with tears; and, +looking into the bright, morning heaven, he said; + +"I will be strong!" + +Men sometimes go down into tombs, with painfullongings to behold once +more the faces of their departed friends; and as they gaze upon them, +lying there so peacefully with the semblance, that they wore on earth, +the sweet breath of heaven touches them, and the features crumble and +fall together, and are but dust. So did his soul then descend for the +last time into the great tomb of the Past, with painful longings to +behold once more the dear faces of those he had loved; and the sweet +breath of heaven touched them, and they would not stay, but crumbled +away and perished as he gazed. They, too, were dust. And thus, +far-sounding, he heard the great gate of the Past shut behind him as +the Divine Poet did the gate of Paradise, when the angel pointed him +the way up the Holy Mountain; and to him likewise was it forbidden to +look back. + +In the life of every man, there are sudden transitions of feeling, +which seem almost miraculous. At once, as if some magician had touched +the heavens and the earth, the dark clouds melt into the air, the wind +falls, and serenity succeedsthe storm. The causes which produce these +sudden changes may have been long at work within us, but the changes +themselves are instantaneous, and apparently without sufficient cause. +It was so with Flemming; and from that hour forth he resolved, that he +would no longer veer with every shifting wind of circumstance; no +longer be a child's plaything in the hands of Fate, which we ourselves +do make or mar. He resolved henceforward not to lean on others; but to +walk self-confident and self-possessed; no longer to waste his years in +vain regrets, nor wait the fulfilment of boundless hopes and indiscreet +desires; but to live in the Present wisely, alike forgetful of the +Past, and careless of what the mysterious Future might bring. And from +that moment he was calm, and strong; he was reconciled with himself! +His thoughts turned to his distant home beyond the sea. An +indescribable, sweet feeling rose within him. + +"Thither will I turn my wandering footsteps," said he; "and be a man +among men, and no longer a dreamer among shadows. Henceforth bemine a +life of action and reality! I will work in my own sphere, nor wish it +other than it is. This alone is health and happiness. This alone is +Life; + +'Life that shall send + +A challenge to its end, + +And when it comes, say, Welcome, friend!' + +Why have I not made these sage reflections, this wise resolve, sooner? +Can such a simple result spring only from the long and intricate +process of experience? Alas! it is not till Time, with reckless hand, +has torn out half the leaves from the Book of Human Life, to light the +fires of passion with, from day to day, that Man begins to see, that +the leaves which remain are few in number, and to remember, faintly at +first, and then more clearly, that, upon the earlier pages of that +book, was written a story of happy innocence, which he would fain read +over again. Then come listless irresolution, and the inevitable +inaction of despair; or else the firm resolve to record upon the leaves +that still remain, a more noble history, than the child's story, with +which the book began." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. THE LAST PANG. + +"Farewell to thee, Saint Gilgen!" said Flemming, as he turned on the +brow of the hill, to take his last look at the lake and the village +below, and felt that this was one of the few spots on the wide earth to +which he could say farewell with regret. "Thy majestic hills have +impressed themselves upon my soul, as a seal upon wax. The quiet beauty +of thy lake shall be to me forever an image of peace and purity and +stillness, and that inscription in thy little churchyard, a sentence of +wisdom for my after life." + +Before the setting of the same sun, which then shone on that fair +landscape, he was far on his way towards Munich. He had left far behind +him the mountains of the Tyrol; and beheld themfor the last time in the +soft evening twilight, their bases green with forest trees, and here +and there, a sharp rocky spire, and a rounded summit capped with snow. +There they lay, their backs, like the backs of camels; a mighty +caravan, reposing at evening in its march across the desert. + +From Munich he passed through Augsburg and Ulm, on his way to +Stuttgard. At the entrances of towns and villages, he saw large +crucifixes; and on the fronts of many houses, coarse paintings and +images of saints. In Gunzburg three priests in black were slowly +passing down the street, and women fell on their knees to receive their +blessing. There were many beggars, too, in the streets; and an old man +who was making hay in a field by the road-side, when he saw the +carriage approaching, threw down his rake, and came tumbling over the +ditch, with his hat held out in both hands, uttering the most dismal +wail. The next day, the bright yellow jackets of the postilions, and +the two great tassels of their bugle-horns, dangling down their backs, +like two cauliflowers, told him he was in Würtemberg; and, late in the +evening, he stopped at a hotel in Stuttgard; and from his +chamber-window, saw, in the bright moonlight, the old Gothic cathedral, +with its narrow, lancet windows and jutting buttresses, right in front +of him. Ere long he had forgotten all his cares and sorrows in sleep, +and with them his hopes, and wishes, and good resolves. + +He was still sitting at breakfast in his chamber, the next morning, +when the great bell of the cathedral opposite began to ring, and +reminded him that it was Sunday. Ere long the organ answered from +within, and from its golden lips breathed forth a psalm. The +congregation began to assemble, and Flemming went up with them to the +house of the Lord. In the body of the church he found the pews all +filled or locked; they seemed to belong to families. He went up into +the gallery, and looked over the psalm-book of a peasant, while the +congregation sang the sublime old hymn of Martin Luther, + +"Our God, he is a tower of strength, + +A trusty shield and weapon." + +During the singing, a fat clergyman, clad in black, with a white +surplice thrown loosely about him, came pacing along one of the aisles, +from beneath the organ-loft and ascended the pulpit. After the hymn, he +read a portion of Scripture, and then said; + +"Let us unite in silent prayer." + +And turning round, he knelt in the pulpit, while the congregation +remained standing. For a while there was a breathless silence in the +church, which to Flemming was more solemnly impressive than any audible +prayer. The clergyman then arose, and began his sermon. His theme was +the Reformation; and he attempted to prove how much easier it was to +enter the kingdom of Heaven through the gateways of the Reformed +Evangelical Dutch church, than by the aisles and penitential +stair-cases of Saint Peter's. He then gave a history of the +Reformation; and, when Flemming thought he was near the end, he heard +him say, that he should divide his discourse into four heads. This +reminded him of the sturdy old Puritan, Cotton Mather, who after +preaching an hour, would coolly turn the hour-glass on the pulpit, and +say; "Now, my beloved hearers, let us take another glass." He stole out +into the silent, deserted street, and went to visit the veteran +sculptor Dannecker. He found him in his parlour, sitting alone, with +his psalm-book, and the reminiscences of a life of eighty years. As +Flemming entered, he arose from the sofa, and tottered towards him; a +venerable old man, of low stature, and dressed in a loose white jacket, +with a face like Franklin's, his white hair flowing over his shoulders, +and a pale, blue eye. + +"So you are from America," said he. "But you have a German name. Paul +Flemming was one of our old poets. I have never been in America, and +never shall go there. I am now too old. I have been in Paris and in +Rome. But that was long ago. I am now eight and seventy years old." + +Here he took Flemming by the hand, and made him sit down by his side, +on the sofa. And Flemmingfelt a mysterious awe creep over him, on +touching the hand of the good old man, who sat so serenely amid the +gathering shade of years, and listened to life's curfew-bell, telling, +with eight and seventy solemn strokes, that the hour had come, when the +fires of all earthly passion must be quenched within, and man must +prepare to lie down and rest till the morning. + +"You see," he continued, in a melancholy tone, "my hands are cold; +colder than yours. They were warmer once. I am now an old man." + +"Yet these are the hands," answered Flemming, "that sculptured the +beauteous Ariadne and the Panther. The soul never grows old." + +"Nor does Nature," said the old man, pleased with this allusion to his +great work, and pointing to the green trees before his window. "This +pleasure I have left to me. My sight is still good. I can even +distinguish objects on the side of yonder mountain. My hearing is also +unimpaired. For all which, I thank God." + +Then, directing Flemming's attention to a fine engraving, which hung on +the opposite wall of the room, he continued; + +"That is an engraving of Canova's Religion. I love to sit here and look +at it, for hours together. It is beautiful. He made the statue for his +native town, where they had no church, until he built them one. He +placed the statue in it. This engraving he sent me as a present. Ah, he +was a dear, good man. The name of his native town I have forgotten. My +memory fails me. I cannot remember names." + +Fearful that he had disturbed the old man in his morning devotions, +Flemming did not remain long, but took his leave with regret. There was +something impressive in the scene he had witnessed;--this beautiful old +age of the artist; sitting by the open window, in the bright summer +morning,--the labor of life accomplished, the horizon reached, where +heaven and earth meet,--thinking it was angel's music, when he heard +the church-bells ring; himself too old to go. As he walked back to his +chamber, he thought within himself, whether he likewise might not +accomplish something, which should live after him;--might not bring +something permanent out of this fast-fleeting life of man, and then sit +down, like the artist, in serene old age, and fold his hands in +silence. He wondered how a man felt when he grew so old, that he could +no longer go to church, but must sit at home and read the bible in +large print. His heart was full of indefinite longings, mingled with +regrets; longings to accomplish something worthy of life; regret, that +as yet he had accomplished nothing, but had felt and dreamed only. Thus +the warm days in spring bring forth passion-flowers and forget-menots. +It is only after mid-summer, when the days grow shorter and hotter, +that fruit begins to appear. Then, the heat of the day brings forward +the harvest, and after the harvest, the leaves fall, and there is a +gray frost. Much meditating upon these things, Paul Flemming reached +his hotel. At that moment a person clad in green came down the +church-steps, and crossed the street. It was the German student, of +Interlachen. Flemming started as if a green snake had suddenly crossed +his path. He took refuge in his chamber. + +That night as he was sitting alone in his chamber, having made his +preparation to depart the following morning, his attention was arrested +by the sound of a female voice in the next room. A thin partition, with +a door, separated it from his own. He had not before observed that the +room was occupied. But, in the stillness of the night, the tones of +that voice struck his ear. He listened. It was a lady, reading the +prayers of the English Church. The tones were familiar; and awakened at +once a thousand painfully sweet recollections. It was the voice of Mary +Ashburton! His heart could not be deceived; and all its wounds began to +bleed afresh, like those of a murdered man, when the murderer +approaches. His first impulse was of affection only, boundless, +irrepressible, delirious, as of old in the green valley of Interlachen. +He waited for the voice to cease; that he might go to her, and behold +her face once more. And then his pride rose up within him, and rebuked +this weakness. He remembered his firm resolve; and blushed to find +himself so feeble. And the voice ceased; and yet he did not go. Pride +had so far gained the mastery over affection. He lay down upon his bed, +like a child as he was. All about him was silence, and the silence was +holy, for she was near; so near that he could almost hear the beating +of her heart. He knew now for the first time how weak he was, and how +strong his passion for that woman. His heart was like the altar of the +Israelites of old; and, though drenched with tears, as with rain, it +was kindled at once by the holy fire from heaven! + +Towards morning he fell asleep, exhausted with the strong excitement; +and, in that hour when, sleep being "nigh unto the soul," visions are +deemed prophetic, he dreamed. O blessed visionof the morning, stay! +thou wert so fair! He stood again on the green sunny meadow, beneath +the ruined towers; and she was by his side, with her pale, speaking +countenance and holy eyes; and he kissed her fair forehead; and she +turned her face towards him beaming with affection and said, "I confess +it now; you are the Magician!" and pressed him in a meek embrace, that +he, "might rather feel than see the swelling of her heart." And then +she faded away from his arms, and her face became transfigured, and her +voice like the voice of an angel in heaven;--and he awoke, and was +alone! + +It was broad daylight; and he heard the postilion, and the stamping of +horses' hoofs on the pavement at the door. At the same moment his +servant came in, with coffee, and told him all was ready. He did not +dare to stay. But, throwing himself into the carriage, he cast one look +towards the window of the Dark Ladie, and a moment afterwards had left +her forever! He had drunk thelast drop of the bitter cup, and now laid +the golden goblet gently down, knowing that he should behold it no +more! + +No more! O how majestically mournful are those words! 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