The Lost Manuscript Part 12

After half an hour of quiet preparation, the maidservant appeared at the door of the dining room. The Proprietor gallantly offered his arm to Mrs. Rollmaus and escorted her to the table. The Professor conducted Ilse, and the Doctor attempted to take her sister Clara, but she blushed and resisted till he gave his other arm to Louise and Rickchen, whereupon Franz laid hold of his coat-tails and on the way whispered to him: "We have turkey today." But Mr. Rollmaus, who regarded attendance upon ladies a wearisome custom brought up the rear alone, greeting, as he pa.s.sed, the farm officials, who were standing in the dining-room, with the query:

"Is all the corn in yet?"

To which the Inspector replied with emphasis that it was.

Again all took their places according to rank and dignity. Mrs.

Rollmaus had the place of honor, and between her and Ilse sat the Professor.

It was not a quiet meal for the latter. Ilse was more silent than usual, but his new neighbor plied him with learned questions. She obliged him to tell her the regulations of the University, and in what manner the students were instructed. And the Professor informed her fully, and did so good-humoredly. But he did not long succeed in protecting either himself or others against the feeling of annoyance which the conversation of Mrs. Rollmaus always occasioned.

"So you are a philosopher?" she said. "That is indeed interesting. I also have attempted philosophy; but the style is so incomprehensible.

Pray, what is the purpose of philosophy?"

"It endeavors," was the patient answer of the Professor to this perplexing question, "to instruct men in the life of their mind and spirit, and thus to strengthen and improve them."

"The life of the spirit!" exclaimed Mrs. Rollmaus, excitedly; "but do you too believe that spirits can appear to men after death?"

"Why, do you know any instance where that has happened?" asked the Professor. "It would be interesting to all to hear the exact details.

Has anything of the kind occurred hereabouts?"

"So far as ghosts and spirits are concerned, No," replied Mrs.

Rollmaus, looking doubtfully at the Proprietor; "but of second sight, and what is called sympathy a great deal. Only think, we once had a servant; she was not obliged to live out, but her parents wished to send her away from home for a time; for there was in the village a poor lad who was a great fiddler and who strolled round her house morning and evening, and when the girl could come, they sat together behind a bush--he playing on the fiddle and she listening. And she could not part from him. She was a nice girl, and adapted herself to everything in our house, only she was always melancholy. The fiddler was impressed as a hussar, for which he was fitted because he was very courageous.

After a year the cook came to me and said: 'Mrs. Rollmaus, I cannot stand it any longer, Hetty walks in her sleep. She gets out of bed and sings the song about a soldier whom a captain caused to be shot, because he was ordered to do so, and then she groans so that it would move a stone, and in the morning she knows nothing about her singing, but always continues to weep.' And this was the truth. I called her, and asked her seriously; 'What is the matter with you? I cannot bear this mysterious conduct, you are a riddle to me.' Whereupon she lamented much, and begged me not to think ill of her, as she was an honorable girl; but she had seen an apparition. And then she told me the whole story. Her Gottlob had appeared at the door of her room in the night, quite haggard and sorrowful, and had said: 'Hetty, it is all over with me; to-morrow it is my turn.' I tried to persuade the girl out of it, but her fears infected me. I wrote to an officer whose acquaintance my husband had made at the hunt, and asked whether it was nonsense, or whether it was due to the so-called second-sight. And he wrote back to me very much astonished. It was a true case of second-sight, for on the same day the fiddler had fallen from his horse and broken his leg, and then lay in the hospital at the point of death.

Now, I pray you, was not that a real natural phenomenon?"

"And what became of the poor people?" asked the Professor.

"O, as for them," answered Mrs. Rollmaus, "it all came right; for a comrade of the invalid, who had a sick mother, was from our village. I wrote to him requesting him to send me a letter every third day to report how the invalid was getting on, and added that I would repay him by sending his mother bacon and flour. He wrote regularly; and the affair lasted many weeks. At last the fiddler was cured and came back; and both were white as a sheet when they met, and embraced each other before my eyes without hesitation; whereupon I spoke to the parents of the girl, which was of little avail. Then I spoke to my husband, to whom our village inn belongs, and who was then looking out for a good tenant. And that brought the history to a close, or, as the saying goes, to the _commencement du pain_. For Mr. Rollmaus is not a lover of fiddles and thinks them instruments of frivolity. But the people behave in an orderly way. I was the sponsor of their first child and Rollmaus of the second. But there have been no more apparitions."

"That was indeed good and kind of you," exclaimed the Professor, warmly.

"We are all human," said Mrs. Rollmaus, apologetically.

"And I hope, all good," replied the Professor. "Believe me, madame, though there are many and various views in philosophy and in every branch of learning, and much contention respecting many points, and though one is easily led and tempted to consider another ignorant; yet with respect to honesty, uprightness, and benevolence, there has seldom been any difference of opinion, and all delight in and esteem those in whom they find these qualities. And it is these qualities, Mrs.

Rollmaus, I now find and honor in you."

This he said to the learned lady with much warmth and earnestness. On his other side he heard the gentle rustling of a dress, and when he turned to Ilse he met a look so full of humble grat.i.tude that he could hardly preserve his composure.

Mrs. Rollmaus, however, sat smiling and contented with the philosophical system of her neighbor. Again the Professor turned to her, and spoke of the difficulty of doing good to the helpless in the right way. Mrs. Rollmaus acknowledged that uneducated people had a way of their own, "But one can easily get on with them, if they only know that one means well by them."

The Professor afterward occasioned a slight misunderstanding, when in answer he respectfully observed: "You are right, for in this field patient love is requisite to produce fruitful results."

"Yes," acquiesced Mrs. Rollmaus, puzzled, "to be sure, these results which you mention are not wanting among us, and they marry for the most part just at the right time; but the patient love which you so truly speak of as requisite is not always forthcoming among our country people, for in marriage they frequently consider money more than love."

If, however, the notes in the concert at the upper table were not quite in accord, yet the turkey and custard-pudding--a masterpiece of Ilse's kitchen--vanished without any adverse concussion of learned wisdom. All rose well pleased with one another, only the children, whose innocent mischief is most enduring, found with displeasure that Mrs. Rollmaus would not on this occasion enter into any contest in which the encyclopedia could rule as umpire. While the men drank their coffee in the next room, Mrs. Rollmaus again sat on the sofa, and Ilse had a difficult task to satisfy her curiosity in answering all the questions with which she was overwhelmed concerning the two strangers. Meanwhile the children besieged the sofa, lying in wait for an opportunity to undertake a small campaign against the unsuspecting Mrs. Rollmaus.

"So they are making researches, and in our neighborhood. It cannot be about the Indians. I did not know that any had ever come to these parts. It must be a mistake; and they must mean gypsies, who do make their appearance here. Only think, dear Ilse, a man and two women, each with a child, have come within the last fortnight. The women tell fortunes. What they have prophesied to the house-maids is truly remarkable; and in the morning two hens disappeared. Can it be that their researches are concerning these gypsies? But that I cannot believe, as they are mere tinkers and good-for-nothing people. No, they are not making investigations concerning them."

"But who are the gypsies?" asked Clara.

"Dear child, they are vagabonds who formerly were a nation, and now spread themselves everywhere. They had a king, and ma.n.u.scripts, and hounds, although they were great rogues. Originally they were Egyptians, but possibly also Indians."

"How could they be Indians?" exclaimed Hans, disrespectfully; "the Indians live in America. We have got an encyclopedia too, and we will find it out immediately."

"Yes, yes," cried the children, and ran with their brother to the book-shelf. Each of them brought a volume with new binding, and placed it among the coffee cups before Mrs. Rollmaus, who looked by no means pleased at seeing the secret source of her intelligence laid bare before all eyes.

"And ours is newer than yours," cried little Franz, waving his hand. In vain did Ilse endeavor by signs of disapprobation to suppress this outbreak of family pride. Hans held the volume firmly in his hands seeking the word _Gypsy_, and the overthrow of Mrs. Rollmaus, to all human calculations, could no longer be averted. But suddenly Hans jumped up, and holding the book aloft exclaimed: "The Professor is put down here!"

"Our Professor in the encyclopedia?" cried the children.

Family feuds and gypsies were all forgotten. Ilse took the book from her brother's hand, Mrs. Rollmaus stood up in order to read the remarkable pa.s.sage over Ilse's shoulder, all the children's heads gathered round the book, so that they looked like a cl.u.s.ter of buds on a fruit tree, and all peeped curiously at the lines which were so glorious for their guest and themselves.

In the article there were the usual short remarks that are generally made of living scholars, which contained the place and day of the Professor's birth, and the t.i.tles--mostly in Latin--of his works. All these t.i.tles were, in spite of the unintelligible language, read aloud, with the dates and size of the volumes. Ilse looked into the book for a long time, and then handed it to the astonished Mrs. Rollmaus, then the children pa.s.sed it from one to the other. The event made a greater impression here, on both young and old, than it ever could in literary circles. Happiest of all was Mrs. Rollmaus: she had sat next to a man who not only could refer to books, but was referred to himself. Her admiration of him was unbounded; she found, for the first time in her life, that she could hold agreeable intercourse with a man of this stamp.

"What a distinguished scholar!" she exclaimed. "What were the t.i.tles of his works, dear Ilse?"

Ilse did not know; her eyes and thoughts were fixed on the short notice of his life.

This discovery had the good result of causing Mrs. Rollmaus to lay down her weapons entirely this day, and be content not to display any knowledge, for she saw that on this occasion a compet.i.tion with the family was impossible, and she condescended to an unpretending conversation about household events. But the children arranged themselves at a respectful distance from the Professor, and examined him curiously once more from top to toe; and Hans imparted the news in a low voice to the Doctor, and was much surprised that the latter thought nothing of it.

After coffee, the Proprietor proposed to his guests to ascend the nearest hill, in order to examine the damage which had been done by the lightning. Ilse loaded a maid with provisions for supper and some flasks of wine, and the party started. They went down from the rock into the valley, over the strip of meadow and the brook, then up the hill, through underbrush, amid the shadow of the lofty pines. The rain had washed away the steep path, and irregular water-channels furrowed the gravel; nevertheless, the women stepped valiantly over the wet places. But if it had been possible to fail to perceive from the dress and bearing of the Professor that he walked in the confidence of manhood, one might have imagined that he was a delicately clad lady, and Mrs. Rollmaus a gentleman in disguise, for she hovered round him reverently, and would not leave his side. She directed his attention to the stones, and, with the end of her umbrella pointed out the dry places to him, and stopped at times, expressing her fear that he would find this jaunt too fatiguing. The Professor submitted, though much surprised, to the homage of the little lady, sometimes looking inquiringly at Ilse, over whose face flitted a roguish smile. On the height the path became easier, and some trees of lighter foliage varied the dark green of the pines. The summit itself was clear; the heather, on which the fading blossoms of the year still hung, spread itself thickly among the stones. On all sides lay the view of the landscape, with its heights and valleys, the deep glen, and brook with its green border, the fields and the valley of Rossau. In the direction of the setting sun there rose, one behind another, long waves of undulating ground, tinted with the purple hue of twilight, pa.s.sing off into the delicate gray of the mountains on the horizon. It was a delightful prospect, under a clear sky in the midst of pure mountain air, and the party sought out the softest and greenest spots of the heather, whereon to rest.

After a short stay, they proceeded, led by Hans, to the spot where the tree had been struck by lightning. A belt of high fir trees was the place of the devastation. A strong, vigorous pine had been struck and prostrated; in desolate confusion the branches and gigantic splinters of the white wood lay around the broken trunk, which, blackened and cloven, without its top, still rose out of its ruins as high as a house. Through the ma.s.s of branches on the ground, it could be seen that the earth also had been torn up even under the roots of the neighboring trees. The older members of the party looked earnestly on the spot where one moment had turned vigorous life into frightful deformity; but the children pressed on into the thicket shouting, seized upon the scaly cones of the past year, and cut branches from the tree-top, each endeavoring to carry off the largest cl.u.s.ters of the scaly fruit.

"It is only one of a hundred," said the Proprietor, gloomily; "but it is painful to contemplate such devastation, contrary to the usual order of the world, and to think of the destruction that impended over our heads."

"Does this recollection cause you only discomfort?" asked the Professor; "is it not also exalting?"

"The horns of the ram are hanging on the branches," said Ilse, in a low tone, to her father; "he was the sacrifice by which we were saved."

"I think," added the Professor, "that even a person thus struck by lightning might, if time were left him for a last thought, say to himself that this was quite in harmony with the order of our world. We soon forget, amid the comforts of daily life, what we should always vividly bear in mind, that we only live, like all other creatures, subject to certain conditions. Countless forces and strange powers unceasingly work according to fixed laws of their own, maintaining, supporting, or injuring our life. The cold which checks the course of our blood, the breaking waves in which the human body sinks, the injurious vapors from the earth which poison our breath, are no accidental phenomena; the laws by which they act upon us are as primitive and holy as our need of food and drink, of sleep and light; and when a man reflects upon his position among the powers of earth, his life will be found to mean nothing else than an active struggle against them and an endeavor to understand them. Whoever may provide the bread that nourishes us, and whoever may hew the wood that warms us--every useful activity has no other purpose than, by subduing and wisely utilizing these forces, to strengthen and to protect us. In this work we also observe that there is a secret union between every movement of nature and our own minds, and that all living things, however adverse in individual existence, together form one vast and continuous unity. The presentiment and thought of this unity have, at all times, been the most sublime feeling of which man is capable. From this proceeds another impulse, an overwhelming desire and an irresistible longing to divine the deeper relations of these forces.

And it is this that gives us faith. The method of procedure may vary in different individuals, but the goal is the same. Some, possessed of deep feeling, see only eternal wisdom in everything that to them seems incomprehensible; and in child-like faith they apply to it the most reverent and affectionate name. Others earnestly endeavor to observe the various laws and forces of nature and reverently to comprehend their relations to each other. These latter are the men of science. The men of faith and the men of science essentially do the same thing.

Their att.i.tude is very modest; for both recognize that all individual life, both subjective and objective, is very insignificant as compared with the great All. And the man who, when thus overtaken by death, could confidently believe he is going to his Father in Heaven, and the man who in a similar moment could bring himself to intently observe the manner in which the nervous elements that const.i.tute his life cease their activity--both are a.s.sured of, and both would experience, an end of bliss and true contentment."

Thus spoke the Professor as they stood before the shattered pine-tree.

The Crown-Inspector looked at the speaker in astonishment, suspecting him to be one of that new cla.s.s of apostles who at that time made their appearance in various parts, and traveled around the country preaching to the people. Mrs. Rollmaus stood reverently with folded hands, occasionally nodding her a.s.sent. Presently she nudged the Proprietor, whispering:

"That belongs to the philosophy of which we were speaking."

The Proprietor did not answer, but listened with bowed head. Ilse never turned her eyes from the speaker; his observations sounded strange, and excited a secret uneasiness in her, she knew not why. But she could say nothing against them, for the spring of genial life that issued from this n.o.ble soul entranced her. The choice of words, the new thoughts, the n.o.ble expression of his countenance, captivated her irresistibly.

The party returned to their resting place on the height; the sun sank behind the hills, and the soft evening glow gilded first the tips of the heather, and then rose above their heads to the tops of the trees; purple shadows covered the ground, the trunks of the trees, and the distant prospect. But small light clouds of gold and purple floated in the heaven above, till there also the glowing colors faded into rosy twilight; the mist rose from the depths below, and the colors of the earth and the heavens died away into a uniform gray.

Long did the party gaze on the changing lights of the evening. At last the Proprietor called for the contents of the basket; the children were busy unpacking and pa.s.sing the cold meats to the a.s.sembled circle. The Proprietor poured out the wine and pledged his guests, and rejoiced in the fine evening. At a sign from his father, Hans ran into the thicket and fetched some pine torches.

"There is no danger to-day," said the Proprietor to Mr. Rollmaus whilst lighting the torches.

The children pressed forward to be torch-bearers, but only Hans was trusted with this honorable office; the gentlemen carried the others.