The Lost Manuscript: A Novel

"You are all grown," she exclaimed, "but my curly head most of all-he will be like his father. You will be a country gentleman, Franz."

"No, a Professor," answered the boy.

"Ah, you poor child!" said Ilse.

The laborers left their work and hastened to meet her, and there were many kind greetings and questions: the head carter stopped his horses, and the grey mare tossed her head. "She knows you well," said the man, cracking his whip gaily.

Ilse went into the village, to pay a tribute of respect to the dead and to visit the living. It was with difficulty that she could get away from the invalid Benz, and when at last she did so, he called for his slate, and with trembling hands gave expression to his joy in poetry. She then made a careful inspection of the farm-yard. Accompanied by a train of maids, she walked between the rows of cattle, in spite of her fashionable dress, like the legendary Frau Berchta, who scattered blessings throughout the stable and house. She stopped before every horned head; the cows raised their mouths to her, lowing; and there was some important news to tell of each. The maids proudly showed her the young calves, and begged her to give names to the grown-up heifers-for the proprietor had desired that these young ones should be named by Ilse-and she gave them the distinguished names of Kalypso and Xantippe. All was familiar, all as formerly, and yet at every step there was something new to eye and ear.

Clara showed her household accounts: the young girl had kept them admirably. The praises which were bestowed upon her by the house-keeper and by the dairy maid, in confidential conversations, gave Ilse great pleasure, and she said: "Now, I am quite satisfied you can do without me here."

Towards evening the Professor sought his wife, who had been absent some hours. He heard the noise of the children by the brook, and guessed where Ilse was. When he turned round the rock by the cave he saw her sitting in the shadow, her eyes turned to her father's house. He called her name, and stretched out his arms towards her; she flew to his bosom, and said, softly: "I know that my home is in your heart; bear with me, when old recollections crowd upon my mind and move me deeply."

At night, when her father conducted the Professor to his bedroom, still conversing with him upon business and politics, Ilse sent her sister Clara to bed, and seated herself in her chair. When her father came in to fetch his candle from the table, he found Ilse again in her old place, waiting to bid him good night, while she handed him the candle stick. He placed it on the table, and, walking up and down the room, as he had done of yore, began, "You are paler and more serious than you used to be. Will that pass?"

"I hope it will," replied his daughter. After a time she continued, "They believe and think very differently in the city from what we do, father."

The father nodded. "That was the reason I was anxious about you."

"And it is impossible for me to free myself from painful thoughts," said Ilse, softly.

"Poor child," said the father, "it passes my powers to help you. For us, in the country, it is easy to believe in a father's care, when one goes across the fields and sees the growth of everything. But let a simple countryman say a word in confidence to you. Moderation and self-renunciation are necessary in all earthly concerns. We are not better in the country and more sensible because we care little for what is mysterious to man. We have no time for subtle inquiries, and if a thought alarms us, our work helps to dispel our doubts. But thoughts return frequently. I have had days-and have still-when my brains have been on the rack, although I knew that no good would come of it; therefore I now endeavor to keep such thoughts away. This is prudence, but it is not courage. You are placed in a sphere in which hearing and reflecting are unavoidable. You must struggle through it, Ilse. But do not forget two things: on difficult subjects men take very different points of view, and on that account they have, from the most ancient times, hated and slaughtered each other like cannibals, merely because each considered himself in the right. This should be a warning to us. There is only one thing effectual against doubts: to do your duty and concern yourself with what lies in your daily path; for the rest, do not despair because one thinks differently from another. Are you sure of your husband's love?"

"Yes," replied Ilse.

"And have you a thorough respect for his conduct to yourself and others?"

"Yes."

"Then all is well," said the father; "for a tree is known by its fruits. As regards the rest, do not worry about the present or the future. Give me the candle, and go to your husband. Good night, Frau Professor."

[END OF FIRST VOLUME.]

PART II

"A noble human life does not end on earth with death. It continues in the minds and the deeds of friends, as well as in the thoughts and the activity of the nation."

No one who has written a book has of himself become what he is; every one stands on the shoulders of his predecessor; all that was produced before his time has helped to form his life and soul. Again, what he has produced, has in some sort formed other men, and thus his soul has passed to later times. In this way the contents of books form one great soul-empire on earth, and all who now write, live and nourish themselves on the souls of the past generations. From this point of view the soul of mankind is an immeasurable unity, which comprises every one who ever thus lived and worked, as well as those who breathe and produce new works at present. The soul, which past generations felt as their own, has been and is daily transmigrating into others. What is written to-day may to-morrow become the possession of thousands of strangers. Those who have long ago ceased to exist in the body continue to live in new forms here on earthy and daily revive in thousands of others.

Gustav Freytag.

CHAPTER XXI.

THE BUTTER MACHINE

In the large hall of the University a select audience was assembled; state and municipal dignitaries, and men of learning, and students, were constantly streaming backwards and forwards through the doors of the great entrance. The wives of the Professors sat above in the gallery: Ilse was in the place of honor, in the middle of the front row, with Laura. This was a great day for Ilse, for the splendor of the highest academical dignity rested upon her husband's head. Felix Werner had been chosen Rector Magnificus, and was now about to enter upon his office.

The instructors of the University walked in a long procession into the hall; before them went the beadles in their antique dress of office, carrying great maces in their hands; the gentlemen themselves walked in the order of their several faculties. Theology began the procession, and Philosophy closed it; the latter, both from the number and importance of its members, was the strongest division; altogether they formed a stately company; by the side of some nonentities went men of the highest repute, of whom the country might well be proud; and it was a pleasure to every one to see so much learning assembled. These great minds, however, did not make a very dignified appearance in the procession: they kept their ranks badly; many looked as if they were thinking more of their books than of the impression made by their appearance on the public; one had come behind time-it was Raschke-he entered carelessly, running behind the tutors and nodding familiarly to his acquaintances. The procession was received by the Academical Choir with a Latin song, solemn, but unintelligible. The Professors ranged themselves on their seats; the ex-Rector mounted the platform, which was decorated with flowers; he first made a learned speech upon the benefits which medical science had long ago derived from the wandering tribes of Arabia, and then read a report of the academical events of the last year. The discourse was fine; the proceedings were imposing; the distinguished guests from the city and government sat immovable; the Professors listened attentively, the students rattled only a little at the door; and if at times from the high ceiling of the great hall the spirit of weariness waved its great bat-wings before the eyes of the audience, as is inevitable at academical ceremonies, Ilse to-day did not remark it. When the Rector had ended his discourse, with a graceful wave of his hand and some complimentary words, he invited his successor to join him on the platform. Felix did so. The Rector took off his cap and the golden chain and mantle, which looked like an old regal mantle, and put them all upon his successor, with warm wishes and expressions of esteem. Laura whispered to her neighbor: "If our Professor had a sword at his side he would look like one of the Electors in the pictures up there." Ilse assented joyfully; it was precisely what she thought. Now Werner came forward with his scarlet mantle and chain. The beadles crossed their maces on both sides of the chair, and the new Rector majestically began an address to the Professors and students, in which he begged for their good will and promised good government. Again the Academical Choir began a Latin song of triumph, and the procession of University instructors retired into the neighboring room, where the Professors surrounded their Rector, shaking hands with him, and the beadles packed the scarlet mantle and chain in a chest, to be preserved for future occasions. Ilse, too, received the congratulations of the ladies, who placed themselves on the gallery steps and greeted her gaily as "Magnifica."

As soon as she got home. Ilse threw her arms round her husband's neck, and told him how stately he looked in his grand attire. "What the gipsy said," she exclaimed, "has been fulfilled to-day: the man whom I love has worn a prince's dress; I greet you, my Prince and Lord."

It was on the afternoon of this great day that the visit of the Hereditary Prince was announced. Ilse once more looked into every corner of her bright dwelling, that she might experience no disgrace as mistress of the house, and made her husband instruct her as to the right form of speaking to an illustrious prince; "In order that I may know what to say if he addresses me. I am anxious, Felix, for it is a great thing to meet the future Sovereign of one's country."

As the clock struck, the carriage drove up. Gabriel, in his best coat, conducted the gentlemen to the Rector's room. Meanwhile Ilse walked up and down, burning with expectation. It was not long before her door was opened, and two gentlemen entered, introduced by her husband. The Prince was of a slight figure, medium height, black hair, with small face and features; over the delicate lips there was a dark line, which showed the beginning of a mustache; his carriage was awkward and embarrassed, and he gave one the impression of being a delicate and weak man. He seemed confused when he approached Ilse, and he told her, in so low a tone that she could scarcely make out his words, how much he rejoiced in meeting with a countrywoman.

His shy manner gave Ilse courage; she was touched by the countenance of her young Prince, and accosted him: "We in our country cling to our home, and as I now have the opportunity of making your Highness's acquaintance, I venture to say that I remember your Highness. You were quite a young gentleman, and I was only a half-grown girl when I first saw you in your father's capital. Your Highness was sitting on a very small horse; whilst my father and I made our obeisances, the horse stood still and would not go on. You looked kindly at me, just as you do now. I had a couple of roses in my hand, and, as you were our young Prince, I offered them to you. But you shook your head and could not take them, as you had to hold the bridle, and I believe you were a little timid about your horse: but the horse poked its head into the flowers. Then a tall man in uniform rode up and held the horse, and we retreated. You see I remember it all, for it was an important thing for a country girl to remember. – But will your Highness do me the honor to take a seat?"

The Prince's attendant, the Chamberlain von Weidegg, addressed Ilse courteously; he was a man of middle age, tall, of good address, and not bad looking; he took the lead in the conversation, and spoke pleasantly of the hills and woods of their common country; it was an agreeable interchange of words on every day subjects. The Prince was silent, played with his eyeglass, and looked cautiously and wonderingly at the stately wife of the Professor, who was sitting opposite him. At last the Chamberlain inquired at what hour Ilse received strangers, and expressed a wish that the Prince and he might be allowed occasionally to visit her. "On account of the few persons with whom my illustrious Prince can associate in this city, a house in which he may expect not to be treated as a stranger will be particularly acceptable to him." This was very pleasant and courteous, and when the Professor had accompanied the strangers to the entrance, he said to his wife, "They appear to be very amiable."

"I had imagined my Prince to be quite different, Felix, bold and haughty; but he has not even a star on his breast."

"It must have been in his pocket," said the Professor, consolingly.

"But he looks like a good youth," concluded Ilse, "and, as he is my countryman, he shall be well treated."

"That is right," replied the Professor, laughing.

In a short time the Hereditary Prince and his Chamberlain found out that this good treatment was very pleasant. The Chamberlain proved himself an agreeable man; he had travelled much, had experience of all sorts, had seen much, and read a good deal on various subjects; he collected autographs, had no vices and no bad habits. During a long sojourn in Rome he had been intimate with old acquaintances of the Professor, he had wandered through the ruins of Pompeii, and showed a warm interest in the details of old Roman houses. Besides this he understood how to listen and how to ask questions, and could, with decorum, tell doubtful anecdotes of people of note. His conversation was agreeable to the Professor, he was welcome at Ilse's tea-table, and liked by her guests. It seemed also to give him pleasure to converse with the learned men; he visited the Doctor and examined his old wood-cuts; he treated Professor Raschke with considerate politeness, and, with his Prince, accompanied the Philosopher on a fine winter evening to his distant dwelling, and during the walk Raschke imparted to them very interesting observations upon plants.

It cannot be said that the Hereditary Prince was much at home among the Professors; he listened with toleration to their conversation, as became an academical student, and said the right thing at the right time; but he showed by an impatient jerk of his lorgnette that he would much have preferred any other kind of entertainment.

Ilse was not pleased when he fidgeted with his glass, for she wished that he should conduct himself with dignity among other men, and she seemed to feel as if the gentlemen would reproach her because the Prince took no real interest in serious subjects. As mistress of the house, therefore, she was very attentive to him; she ventured to advise him not to drink his tea too strong, and prepared it for him herself. The Prince was pleased with this, and enjoyed sitting next to her or watching her perform her duties at the table as hostess. It was only with her that he ever lost his cautious reserve; he talked to her of the remarkable things he had seen in the town, and when he had nothing to say, he assisted her in her duties; he placed the cream jug before her, and always passed the sugar-bowl when he thought that Ilse wanted it.

One evening as the Prince was sitting silently by Ilse's side, and the gentlemen present were engaged in passing indignant judgment on the arbitrary management of the Vatican Library, Ilse proposed to him to look over a work that her husband had bought, containing good portraits of famous men of learning and artists. They went to examine it by a lamp in the next room, and the Prince looked at the portraits with languid interest. "Of many of them I only know," began Ilse, "what my husband has told me; I have not read their books, and of the beautiful things they have painted and composed, I know but little."

"That is just my case," replied the Prince, honestly, "it is only about the musicians that I know anything."

"Yet it is a pleasure to look at their portraits," continued Ilse; "one judges from them what the character and merits of these men may have been, and when one asks any person who knows more, one finds one's views sometimes confirmed and sometimes erroneous. That seems to make us like the men and become intimate with them, and we seek for opportunities of making acquaintance with their works of art and learning. I long to know more about them. But when one has read about a great man, and after a time sees his picture, then his face appears like that of a dear friend."

"Do you like to read?" asked the Prince, looking up.

"I am beginning to like it," replied Ilse; "but unlearned heads do not take in serious things at once, especially when they excite earnest thoughts."

"I do not like to read," replied the Prince; "at least in the way in which it is pressed upon me. It is tedious to me, for I have never learned anything thoroughly, and I know nothing well."

He said this with bitterness. Ilse was shocked at the confession. "Your Highness will find that that will change now, – you will have such excellent opportunities here."

"Yes," replied the Prince, "from morning till evening, and one thing after another. I am always glad when the lectures are over."

Ilse regarded the young Prince sympathizingly. "That is very unfortunate for your Highness. Is there nothing that you would care to know or possess? no collection of minerals or butterflies, or of rare books or engravings, like the Doctor over there has? In this way one can find enjoyment the whole year, and while collecting these valuable things one learns a great deal."

"If I wish to have anything of the kind I can have any quantity of them collected," replied the Prince; "but to what end? I have already so many things about me. If I were to express a wish to collect minerals, everybody about me would be in a state of excitement, and it would either be forbidden or I should have a whole collection brought into the house."

"That indeed is of no use," said Ilse, pityingly; "the only pleasure is in looking after each individual thing one's self; no man can know all, but everyone should have something which he understands thoroughly. If I may venture to compare my insignificant life with the important one that awaits your Highness, I should like to tell you my own experience. When my good mother was laid on her deathbed I was quite a young girl, but I wished to take her place in the household. I found, however, that I was quite at a loss what to do. I did not even know whether the people were industrious or lazy; I did not understand how to do anything, and if it was done badly I could not teach them better. One evening I sat discouraged and angry with myself, and I believe I wept. Then my good father said, 'You should not undertake so much at once, you should first learn some one thing accurately.' Then he took me into the dairy. Does your Highness know what that is."

"Not exactly," replied the Prince.

She then explained to him the whole day's work of the dairy. "This was the result: I took it in hand myself, learned the work thoroughly, and thus was able to judge the maids. I learned everything about the cows accurately, and which was the best kind for us, and why; for every species does not thrive everywhere. I soon became ambitious of making good butter and cheese. I obtained information from those who were skilled in it, and sometimes read a book about it. Then I conferred with my father about improvements, and just when I came away we were thinking of getting a new machine instead of our large wooden churn. It is now set up; it is said to be very good, and to make good butter; but I have not seen it. Does your Highness know anything about churning?"

"No," replied the Prince.

Ilse described the process to him as far as she could, and continued: "When my father made up his books at midsummer, it was my pride that the dairy produce should every year increase in amount; but I was provoked that my father laughed at my small profits; he valued the cows for other reasons." Ilse gave a slight explanation on this point, and then continued: "From this time, your Highness, I felt quite at home in the world. Now, if I go to a factory, I find myself looking upon it as another kind of dairy, and when state revenues and government expenditure are talked of, I compare them with our house and farming accounts. But it is very silly in me to talk to your Highness about butter and cheese."

The Prince looked frankly into her eyes. "Ah kind lady," he said, "yours has been a happy life; I have never been so fortunate as to be able to enjoy quietly what I like. From morning to evening I have been in leading-strings, and passed on from one person to another. When, as a child, I went into the garden, the governess or tutor was always there, and when I ran or jumped about on the grass, I was to do it in a becoming manner; once, when I wished to turn a somersault, like other boys, it excited the utmost dismay, on account of its indecorum. Every moment it was said, 'that was not befitting a Prince,' or, 'this is not the proper time.' When I came out of my room I was stared at by strangers, and had always to take notice of them and bow to them; I was told with whom I was or was not to shake hands, and who I was or was not to accost. Every day passed thus. One was always to use empty forms of speech in three languages, and every day the uppermost thought was, whether one had conducted one's self well. Once I and my sister wished to lay out a little garden; immediately the head gardener was called to dig and plant for us, thus all our pleasure was spoilt. Then we wished to act a little play, and had thought of a nice piece; again we were told that it was foolish trash, and that we must learn a play by heart, with French modes of speech, in which the children always exclaimed how dearly they loved papa and mamma, whilst we had no mother. In this training for mere show my childhood passed. I assure you I know nothing thoroughly, and though I remain here at study forever, I feel that it can do me no good, and I shall enter the world a very useless being."

"Ah, that is sad," exclaimed Ilse, with deep sympathy; "but I entreat of your Highness not to lose courage. It is impossible that the life here, among so many men of the highest capacity and worth, should not be beneficial to you."

The Prince shook his head.

"Think what a future lies before your Highness," continued Ilse. "Ah, you have every reason to be brave and confident. Your office is the highest on earth. We others work, and are happy if we can only preserve one human being from evil; but you will have the welfare and lives of thousands in your power. What you do for schools and learning through the selection of good or bad teachers, and your decisions as to peace or war, may ruin or make the whole country happy. When I think of this exalted vocation, I feel a deep respect for you, and I would implore you on my knees to do your utmost to make yourself a worthy prince. Therefore, the best advice for you is, that you should be willing to learn even what is wearisome to you. For the rest, have confidence in the future: you will yet have pleasure in life, and a feeling of worth and capacity."

The Prince was silent; for every allusion to his future position as Sovereign was forbidden at Court, and even less than others was the heir to the throne allowed to indulge in such a thought or cherish such a hope.

"I hear lectures enough," said the Prince, at last; "but I wish that I might have been brought up by a country gentleman, as you have been."

They returned to the gentlemen, and the Prince paid much attention to their conversation during the rest of the evening. When he went away, Ilse said to her husband: "There is one who has what would make thousands happy, yet he is unhappy, for they have bound up his honest heart in leather like an automaton. Oh, be kind to him, Felix; open your soul to him, that he may gain some of your confidence and power."