Withered Leaves Volume I Part 12

Young wealthy Salomon might count upon occupying the first place in the heart of a Regierungsrath's daughter. Herr von Blanden might also be rich, but was he as young and had he such a future before him as Salomon?

"It is incredible, mamma!" said he to his sympathising mother, "they are walking together again, talking confidentially. That Blanden, who is more than thirty years old, and has pa.s.sed through many a storm, and what has he done in the world? Certainly, he has a cut upon his right cheek, a proof that he has studied; but apart from that cut he has gained hardly any merit, and can he actually be termed handsome, mamma?"

"He is a fine-looking man, though," said the banker's wife.

"He is not my ideal of manliness! I like men such as William Tell, powerful, plain and sterling; he has such a soft, dreamy expression in his face, at the same time such a superior, polite smile, and a pair of eyes which no one can make out; now they look as if they had disappeared; then again gleam diabolically, now small, now large; eyes, as to the nature of which no one can form a decision. Yet, I have read somewhere that girls like that. What success Don Juan had, mamma! His register that Leporello unrolls is longer than the _menu_ at the largest hotel! But it is not that alone, believe me, mamma; it is being a n.o.bleman! The influence which rank exercises upon love is very great! Those who have nothing particular about them, excepting being n.o.blemen--and it does prepossess people--have married the most beautiful girls. How often have I not already said that papa ought to have himself enn.o.bled! With his money and his connexions it would be a trifle; but you do absolutely nothing to smoothe my path through life--to a.s.sist me to success. Some portion would fall to your share, too; you would like to be _gndige_ Frau, and it is impossible to give that to oneself."

While Salomon told his troubles to his mother, and as he added would try his luck with Eva once more, another rival of Blanden's had arrived unexpectedly, and was present at this forest-party, the young poet Schner, who for a short time at least had applied for a place in Eva's heart, and had striven to be successful in obtaining it. But since that encounter with the singer, Eva had renounced him so completely that she treated him with conspicuous coldness.

Had he not accompanied the admired _virtuoso_, on the whole of her tour, back to the capital, and only left her when she made a trip into the country with a female friend, to Lithuania or Masuren, and forbade the young poet to escort her farther?

Schner easily recovered all these slights and resigned himself to the existing state of affairs; he hoped soon to reconquer the lost position; he sunned himself with such self-satisfaction in the glory of an easily-gained, doubtful fame, that he was less susceptible of smaller defeats.

In addition, his spirits, like his poetry, were still sparkling champagne, and a certain youthful unripeness did not become him badly; his nature owned tokens of genius which promised that he would overcome it.

Blanden, with that subtle discrimination which was peculiar to him, soon remarked that Eva's indifference did not appear to be at all natural in this case, that slight defiance, something repellant lay in it, indicating former connection. He looked more closely at his rival, who did not displease him at all, and in whose poetical attempts he had already been interested, and found remarkable consolation in the former's turned-down s.h.i.+rt-collar, and in his unpolished thorn stick.

He considered the entire toilet hopeless for a matrimonial candidate, that the heart of an educated girl, who aims at a domestic hearth, could not possibly repose any confidence in such a wooer.

Yet love, which allows itself to be won by an enthusiast and a pair of glowing eyes--had it no chance in the game?

Schner was so engrossed by the political paroxysm of that period, that this intoxicated idealism lent him most infectious enthusiasm. He acknowledged himself to be Herwegh's disciple, and when he recited that poet's verses, the beautiful, powerful voice in which he declaimed them, always called forth a kindred feeling in his listeners.

He recited with the enthusiasm with which, at that period, these poetical fire-brands were hurled into the air, and, at the same time, heat the oak-branches with his thorn-stick, until the leaves whirled to the ground.

"Have you seen him in person?" he asked Eva, and, as she replied in the negative, he continued, "I was present when the students greeted him; I was present at the entertainment in the Kneiphf _Junkerhof_, when he declaimed his marvellously beautiful poem--

'_Die Lerche war's nicht die Nachtigall, Erhebt euch vom Schlumnur der Snden; Schon wollen die Feuer sich berall, Die heiligen Feuer, entzunden_.'[3]

And the old Justizrath, with his long, thin arms patted Herwegh on his shoulders, and addressed a warm speech to him, and any one who could saddle a Pegasus, mounted his poetical steed, in order to do honour to the poet. A new epoch has dawned for poetry. I know your charming book-shelves, Eva; there they stand in delicate bindings--the romancists, Uhland, Platen, and Rckert, and whatever their names may be; the later born masters of song, who followed our cla.s.sical writers, but where the mere empty appearance of cultivation is not in question, there the reverence of quiet natures buries itself in the solitary enjoyment of the poets, and they are mostly women and girls who give themselves up to such enjoyment. How totally different it has become now! Not only youths, but grown-up men are enthusiastic about Herwegh's poetry, as it does not find its echo alone in the students' drinking parties, but also in official bureaux and counting-houses. Herwegh's journey through Germany was a regular triumphant course; he was _fted_ everywhere; the King granted him an audience, and treated him as an intellectual Great Power. Poetry is becoming a national affair again; the beautiful times of Greece are returning once more."

"And do you not fear," said Blanden, "that this infatuation will be followed by a long reaction? that poetry, by these strong measures which it must employ to act upon the ma.s.ses, will dull its power, and a time of universal indifference to it ensue?"

"I do not fear that," replied Schner, "the last poet will only depart from the world with the last man, as Anastasius Grn has sung so beautifully."

"Oh, yes, singers will not fail," interposed Blanden, "but the public!

The gentlemen of the profession will not give way, but I can well imagine a time when political poetry will be followed by political prose, when the ideals are attained which the poet's enthusiasm has lauded. That which, until now, has been the home of poetry, the kingdom of silent feelings, will be more forsaken than ever now, because, in the noise of public life, people have become unaccustomed to it. Then the poets will only sing of politics; yet these will need no more poetry; they would treat of more tender subjects, yet these retreat before politics. All poetry will then appear to be materials for use in sickness, which, in the present critical period, we have cast off from us."

"I cannot take so black a view," replied Schner. "I believe in the everlasting youth of the mind, in the immortality of the beautiful, of poetry, even though the poets die. Who could subscribe to a _monumentum aere perennius_? I even doubt if Herwegh will produce anything great; he is only a man of the Awakening, of the lyrical Initiative. There is no versatile productive nature in him; a dull fanaticism lies in him, which has been able to give utterance to the cry of distress of the people and time, but hardly commands a wealthier spiritual life, and no varied forms of art. One single enchanting poetical blossom, like the torch-thistle, and then the busy, creative power is exhausted. His dreamy brow, his dark eye promise much, and if genius did not live in him, how could he have composed such entrancing poetry? But a heavy spell, as it were, rests upon him, and too early fame is poison."

"You speak your own condemnation," said Eva, with cold flattery.

"Oh, no, my Frulein! I rejoice that my poems have found some little echo; yet this modest recognition is far removed from the noisy, clamorous path of triumph of those happy ones, upon whose brows fresh laurels have been lowered. Lasting fame can only be won by serious work, and the glorious aim of a maturer life."

Eva was astonished at this modest confession, which made a favourable impression upon Blanden. The self-satisfaction of the young poet, who was a spoiled favourite in certain circles of society, certainly drew pleasant nourishment from the frequently extravagant recognition with which he met; but the inmost kernel of his nature was not absorbed by it; the impetus to future greater performances remained alive.

Eva and her companions had become separated from the party during this animated conversation. From several symptoms, Schner perceived that a little romance was being enacted, of which he himself was not the hero.

He remained untroubled at this neglect, and, with n.o.ble unselfishness and a poet's pleasure in a little love tale, which he might utilise himself for a newspaper, he left the field, under the pretence that he had promised a beautiful bouquet to the Kanzleirath's Minna, and he must gather it in the wood. He also had the satisfaction in so doing of giving them to understand he would not act the superfluous third person's part of chaperon at this _rendezvous_ of two lovers, and guessed their wish to be alone.

They had arrived once more at the spot where Blanden had first greeted his campanula; the alders rustled in the evening wind, the stream whispered beneath the trees; above through the quivering boughs of the weeping willows the western sky poured its floods of gold.

"You know this young poet well?" asked Blanden.

"I have met and talked to him several times, he interests me; he possesses talent, intellect and attractive qualities, yet the want of steadiness in his nature and actions repelled me; everything in him is prompted by the whim of the moment."

"And you felt no liking for him?"

"Just a very little liking, I do not deny it; he paid me attentions, people remarked it, and often threw us together in society; it flattered me, as he was accounted the ornament and pride of those circles, and he gazed at me with fervid eyes as though he felt a deep pa.s.sion for me, but he looked at all the world with the same eyes, and when I recognised that, he became indifferent to me."

"He has the eye and heart of a poet! Such a heart yearns to possess everything beautiful that it looks upon as its own heaven-bestowed property; it is dangerous and fatal to win a poet's evanescent pa.s.sion--he only gives it durability in his works, not in his life. How many blossoms of beautiful emotions has Goethe plucked, as it were, in pa.s.sing by; to how many women's hearts did his wanderings bring death, like the approach of the inapproachable. That does not suit us inferior mortals! And even if in the extravagance of youth, we do yield ourselves up to such poetical paroxysms, we must soon learn to control ourselves, for we not only leave desolate the lives of others, like that poet, but also our own, as we are unable to cast imperishable creations into the other scale."

Eva looked questioningly at him with her large eyes.

"Let us sit down upon the gra.s.sy mound, among the blue-bells, they ring in spring, perhaps also for me; it was here I found my campanula."

Eva stood hesitatingly; he drew her down beside himself upon the sward.

"The girl that asks for feelings fresh as morn, must reject the man--reject him decidedly--who, after abundant experiences in far-off lands, returns to his home. My life is an Odyssey. I have suffered many s.h.i.+pwrecks; many a Calypso has bound me in her fetters, yet no Penelope awaits the home-comer, he has first to seek her."

Eva did not venture to look up, and plucked the blue flowers while he continued--

"Yet what are whirlpools and ocean wonders, the magicians and nymphs of other days--what all the harsh and sweet dangers of those seas which Homer's sun has illuminated for evermore, compared with the shoals and abysses which menace the bold traveller of the present time? To-day there is no Odyssey in which a vein of Faust would not be concealed, a struggle to fathom the world and life. And how wonderfully at this great turning-point of the period in which we are born, all truths and all delusions play into one another! And while still at home I succ.u.mbed to these perils! I saw how the old faith clung convulsively to the standard of the world's renunciation, in that religious enthusiasm which then held its sway over me, I joined it; yet beauty, which we learn to despise, pa.s.sion, which we should renounce by oath, gained the victory within me over that belief. They all played a daring game, I succ.u.mbed to it, and I was not the only one; it was the first great step astray in my life."

Eva had laid her flowers in her lap; she did not dare to look at him--not with her eyes' mute question.

"I speak to you in enigmas, and may they remain enigmas to you! What I have experienced in the world were adventures that were only wafted upon me like gossamer threads in the air, which we shake off again.

Only once beneath Italy's soft sky, in the intoxicating breath of its perfumed plains, a spell held me enthralled for a short time; I thought to live through one of Boccaccio's novels; the charm of concealment from those at home remained a.s.sured to this dream-like meeting. Enough, I returned home, no tired, no bowed down man, but tired of the life that I had led, overwhelmed with dark recollections, resolved, instead of an unsteady wanderer through the universe, to become a citizen of my country and of the world, who works n.o.bly and bravely; for this I require peace, and peace of mind is alone the ground upon which such good work nourishes."

"And it will flourish," cried Eva, with exalted animation, "cast all sadness, all depression far behind you! I cannot bear to see shadows suffuse your brow--your eyes close as if expiring! I would see you happy, quite happy, and your name honoured like those of the n.o.blest patriots, a Stein and Schn!"

"That word shall never be forgotten by me," cried Blanden, "it finds an echo in my soul; it tells of perfect unanimity of feeling, and if there is a cabala in life, you have thrown open the page on which the magic sentence stands, which now governs my days. That is the n.o.ble ambition which animates me now, with which I would banish the evil spirits, yet, I repeat, that to attain it I need also ensured peace at home. Let us reverse the old fairy-tale--I am an enchanted prince--will you be the princess who loosens the unholy spell?"

Eva blushed deeply, and covered her face with her hands--the blue-bells had fallen from her lap.

"Will you dedicate your whole life to me, that mine may open to new, soft bloom beneath the light of your beautiful gentle eyes? Will you be a true guardian to me, that I may never lose sight of the glorious goal which I strive to reach? I know that I am asking much; you are to give up to me a young pure life, while mine has been already furrowed and torn by the wild streams of pa.s.sion; but is it not an old question whether love consists more of happiness than sacrifice?"

"A sacrifice," cried Eva, springing up suddenly; "a sacrifice, which is the greatest happiness!"

"That word announces mine! Then you will adorn my life, my lovely campanula? You will belong to me, my glorious Eva, my redeemer!"

"I will," said she, not whispering shamedly, but in a transport of ecstacy; and he folded her in his arms and pressed the betrothal-kiss upon her lips.

"Thus be my past life extinguished by this moment," cried Blanden. "I feel as if, pursued by evil spirits, I entered the sanctuary of a bright temple, and all the G.o.ds smiled me a welcome. Sacred be this moment to us: the rustling trees, the parting orb of day be witness of our betrothal!"

And again he folded Eva to his heart; she returned his caress amid burning tears, by which the pent-up tumult of her pa.s.sionate love found relief for itself. Blanden felt too happy; again and again he listened to the a.s.surances of perfect love. They wandered some time longer by the stream in the evening's light, then unconcernedly returned to the party.

This want of confusion was indeed ruinous to Eva's character. The Kanzleirthin explained to her daughter that she must break off her intimacy with Eva, as it was positively astounding what liberties that girl allowed herself. She had always seen that the Kalzow's bringing up was a very sad one, but had not expected that it would bear such ruinous fruits. Salomon suggested to his mother that they had not merely been catching b.u.t.terflies and gathering flowers, but that the science of nature also possessed other interesting pages which could be studied. Rath and Rthin Kalzow rejoiced silently at the favourable course which this mutual fancy took; at the same time the Rath had some misgivings which occasionally worried him, so that his coughing fits overcame him.