Part 4 (1/2)
He lookt sharply at the stranger with his glaring eyes, then slapt him on the shoulder, and withdrew with him. Meanwhile the moon had arisen, and was pouring its bright light over the forests and rocks: the party went each his own way, and Edward too bent his steps homeward. As he was walking up the narrow footpath, he heard a warm discussion; it sounded like a quarrel; and when he drew nearer he fancied he distinguisht Eleazar and the stranger. He struck off therefore into another path, partly for the sake of avoiding them and not being forced to return in their company, partly too that he might not have the air of wis.h.i.+ng to overhear what they were disputing about; for Eleazar was of a very suspicious temper, and mistrusted everybody, though he took it extremely ill if any one did not place an unlimited confidence in him.
In the house everything was quiet: except that Rose was singing a simple air with a supprest voice, scarce audibly in her remote chamber. Edward was moved by it, and so strongly, that he could not help being surprised at his extreme susceptibility. Before he fell asleep, his melancholy had so increast, that he could hardly refrain from shedding tears.
A few days after this Edward observed the stranger coming out of Herr Balthasar's apartment. He wondered what such a person could have had to do there; and, when he entered the old man's room, he found him violently disturbed and enraged.
”Always the same wild irrational feelings, the same superst.i.tious foolery, ruling over mankind!” he cried, as Edward came in: ”That miserable fellow there whom you met flatters himself he shall gain a large sum of money from me, if he can detect our thief by means of some senseless artifice. He won't come back again, the blockhead! for I have at length given vent for once to my feelings. There is nothing in the world so insufferable to me, as when people try, by means of certain phrases fabricated at random, or of certain traditional ceremonies, most of them a misgrowth out of historical blunders, or out of ancient usages which formerly had a very different meaning, to put themselves in connexion with what they call the invisible world, nay fancy, though they deem it an object of terrour, that they can master it thereby. In fact the greater part of mankind are crazed, without choosing to confess it: nay, the very wisdom of thousands is arrant madness.”
It seemed as if the worthy old man himself felt ashamed of his pa.s.sionate vehemence; for he immediately began talking on other subjects. He made Edward sit down by him, and had some breakfast brought, which was quite against his usual custom. ”Thus we shall be able,” he then continued, ”to settle a number of matters this morning, which on other days we may perhaps hardly find leisure for.”
The door was again lockt, and the servant was ordered not to interrupt their conversation on any account. ”I feel,” Herr Balthasar then began, ”that I am growing old; I must take thought and provide for the future, as I know not whether I am doomed to die a slow lingering death, or a sudden unforeseen one. If I draw up no settlement of my property, if I die without a will, that spendthrift in my native town, who has made the beloved of my youth so unhappy, will be my next natural heir: and verily it appalls me to think that my large fortune may hereafter be misused to maintain that despicable glutton in his rioting. All my poor people, all the hands now actively employed in this spot, would again pine away and be condemned to beggary and sloth. It is a sacred duty to forestall this. What are your views, my young friend, for your future life?”
Edward was a good deal embarrast by this address. Some time back indeed he had formed certain plans, and had even meant to speak to the old man about them, in the hope of profiting by his experience: but since his lovely foster-daughter had appeared to him in so different a light, since he had felt so strongly attracted toward her, he was no longer equally forward and confident. He could not make up his mind whether to declare or conceal his affection; for notwithstanding the familiarity with which Balthasar treated him, by many of the old man's feelings and views he found himself estranged and perplext.
”You are hesitating,” said the old man after a while; ”you have not enough reliance in me, because you do not know me. I look upon it as one of my duties to provide as a father for you: you are honest, sensible, diligent, and kind-hearted; you are perfectly verst in the various branches of my business; and I feel a confidence in you such as I have seldom been able to put in anybody. Your exertions for me and my establishments, your prudence and integrity, everything obliges me, even though I entertained no affection for you, to leave you well and very richly provided, since I have so much to thank you for. But I should be glad to know, and I beg you to be perfectly candid to me, whether you could be prevailed upon by the possession of a large fortune to fix your abode in this country, in this house, or perhaps would prefer settling after my death as a rich man in the neighbouring town, engaging in some other occupation, and marrying, or, it may be, travelling about in search of the home which you may like the best.
Tell me your thoughts on this subject now with entire sincerity: since you have a claim, which I will take care shall be a valid one, to a third of my property, I cannot well make my final arrangements till I have learnt your intentions: for my establishments here and up the mountains, my manufactories, machines, mines, and various inst.i.tutions, I also look upon as my children, and they must not be left orphans at my death.”
Edward sank still deeper in thought. Never could he have expected this generosity and fatherly love from the old man; never had it occurred to him that this friend might one day make him rich and independent.
This speech had changed the footing on which he stood with Herr Balthasar; he thought he should now be better able to confess boldly what for some days had been busying and disquieting his mind. He led the way by an a.s.surance of his grat.i.tude, saying that what the old man meant to do for him was far too much, that his relations after all had still a t.i.tle to his affection, and that a great deal less would make him happy and as rich as he could desire.
”I am aware of all that you can urge to me on this score,” said the old man interrupting him: ”these relations of mine, even the scapegrace son and the good-for-nothing father, will be taken care of, so that they shall not have any reasonable ground of complaint. But I know that you have sacrificed the best years of your youth and strength to me. To a gay spirit like yours, to a person of your lively friendly temper, your long residence amid these joyless mountains must have been anything but pleasant. You many years since bade adieu to every sort of merriment and amus.e.m.e.nt: everything that charms youth, music, dancing, even society, plays, travelling, the literature of the day, you have given up for my sake; because you resolved, as I well markt, and that too very early, to suit yourself entirely to my inclinations. Scarce one man in a thousand could have done this; and you were this one: you have done it too without losing anything of your good nature, and kindly obliging disposition. If therefore you would like to settle elsewhere hereafter and in a totally different line of life, I cannot have the slightest objection to it, nor will it occasion the least curtailment of your fortune. But you must tell me your determination frankly, if you have already made up your mind, or can make it up on the instant: for in case you choose to remain here and carry on my business, I must secure you the means of exerting yourself usefully, by a number of arrangements and explicit incontrovertible injunctions in my will; therefore speak.”
Edward replied with emotion: ”Heaven grant you may long remain as a father amongst us! Whether however I am to look on this country as my home or no, depends solely upon you: a word from you, and I can immediately resolve to spend the whole of my life here, even if you should be spared to us many years longer. But if you cannot or will not speak that word, I must sooner or later seek out another home; and I fear that in that case even your n.o.ble bequest will fail to procure me that happiness, which I must needs value higher than riches.”
”I don't understand you, my young friend,” answered Balthasar; ”your words are a riddle to me.”
”Your generosity,” continued Edward, ”and your affectionate benevolence have brought up a poor orphan girl; you have behaved like a father to her; and her fate must therefore be decided by you and none else. Give me that dear maiden, give me Rose for my wife, and I will live and die on this mountain, without a wish beyond it.”
The old man's face suddenly darkened and put on an expression which might be called terrific. He started up hastily, walkt several times up and down the room, then sat down again sighing, and began in a bitter tone: ”So! this is it! You are in love! Is it not so? I am doomed again to hear this ill-omened, this calamitous word! I am doomed to witness this frenzy, this dark, heart-rending, heart-sickening absurdity, even in you, in a man of your sense! And all, all that one might otherwise esteem, and look upon as reasonable, is swallowed up in this whirlpool, in which horrour, madness, wild pa.s.sions, carnal l.u.s.t, and capricious folly are frothing and boiling all at once. This marriage however, Edward, can never, never be.”
”I have said too much,” answered Edward calmly, ”to be satisfied with a bare refusal. Tell me what are your plans for the dear girl, and I shall learn to bear them with resignation.”
”And she, the little fool!” interposed the old man hastily, ”has she too tumbled in love with you? Has the luckless word already past to and fro betwixt you?”
”No,” replied Edward; ”her pure youth is still hovering in that happy state of simplicity, which only desires that tomorrow may be just like today and yesterday. She has no wishes but the simple ones of a child.”
”So much the better,” said Balthasar; ”she will be ready to act rationally then, and will not throw any hinderance in the way of my plan. Surely you, who are tolerably well acquainted with me, ought to have perceived long ago that I had designed the child for Eleazar. I mean her to marry, to live in sober wedlock, not to dream away and dote in what you call love.”
”And will she,” askt Edward, ”be happy with him for her husband?”
”Happy!” cried the old man, bursting into a kind of loud laugh; ”happy! What is a man to think of when he hears that word? There is no happiness; there is no unhappiness; only pain, which we are to welcome to our arms, only self-contempt, beneath which we must bow our necks, only hopelessness, which we must make the partner of our table and of our bed. Everything else is a lie and a trick. Life is a spectre, before which, whenever I pause to look upon it, I stand shuddering: and nothing but toil and activity, and straining all my faculties, can enable me to endure and to despise it. I could envy the loom and the spinning-jenny, if such a feeling, such a wish had any sense in it: for what is our consciousness but a consciousness of misery? what is our existence but an unveiling of the madness, the frenzy of all life?
to which we either abandon ourselves in chill patience, or weep and struggle against it convulsively, or play through a caricature of happiness and joy, while in our dreary heart we are fully aware that it is all a wanton lie.”
”Neither then must I ask you,” continued Edward quietly and sorrowfully, ”whether you love Eleazar as a friend, whether he is truly worthy of friends.h.i.+p and esteem; for all freedom of will, every movement of feeling is crusht by these dark thoughts.”
”As if I had not felt,” said Balthasar, ”and wept and laught, like other men. The difference is only, that I soon stript truth naked, and that I acknowledged and felt my own baseness, and that of all mankind, of the world, and everything in it. Eleazar! he and you! If we are to make use of such words, my friend, I love you; all the fibres of my heart twine fast around you; awake and in my dreams you stand before me: your being miserable might reduce me to despair. And this raw-boned, loathsome Eleazar! If I am to give a name to this folly of my nature, I hate him; he is quite nauseous to me, whenever he stands before my eye or before my imagination: the bile which has tainted his eyes and face, his squinting glances, the twitches of his nose when he is speaking, while his long teeth stare out as if he were grinning, his shrugging up his shoulders at every word, whereby his odious snuff-coloured coat is every moment dragged upward and lays bare the skinny bones of his wrists, all this, his way of drawing in his breath, his hissing voice, is so revolting to my bodily senses, and always excites my wrath so strongly, so painfully, that no other created being ever gave me the same torment; and for this very reason, because there is so much I have to make amends to him for, because heaven and nature have so utterly neglected him, must he become my chief heir, my son. Besides he has long known of it, and is pleased with the prospect of this union.”
”I only half understand you,” answered Edward: ”you are fighting against your own feelings, you are wilfully putting yourself on the rack. I am not arguing now against your promise, since you have already given it to that man: but why do you cling to this image of life, that hara.s.ses and tortures you? Why not open your mind to those joyous feelings, to those sunny thoughts, which lie just as near, nay nearer?”
”As you please,” said the old man,--”for you, but not for me. Day after day has taught me that very few men really live. Most of them are in a state of ceaseless dissipation: nay what they call thought and reflexion is itself the very same thing, a mere attempt to raise a mist around the nature and inborn feelings of their hearts, and to keep themselves from discerning them. And arrogance starts up, the consciousness of their dignity and strength goads and spurs them on, till they rave with ungovernable pride. This too I have known in my youth, and outlived it. Then I loved, as I deemed. How clear and rosy-hued, how bright and smiling the world lay before me! My heart too was as it were bathed in pure ether, blue, boundless, with sweet hope, like morning clouds, floating and scattering freshness through it. And the primary stock of this love, what is it? Silliness, animal pa.s.sion, which intertwines itself with our seemingly tender feelings, which tricks itself out with blossoms, and then eats canker-like into them, to make them too shed their leaves, to trample that, which it called heavenly, in the mire, and--far worse than the comparatively innocent beasts of the field, that are driven by a blind instinct without anything of volition--to deface and spoil everything which but now it wors.h.i.+pt as holy. From this conflagration then shoot forth ever and anon those disasterous sparks, which again grow into children, and again awaken to the consciousness of woe, if not of sin. And so the wheel goes evermore round and round, through a measureless viewless eternity. And the charm, the beauty of the world! the fresh bloom of its appearances! Is not everything here again grounded upon that which nature teaches me to loathe and abhor? It is perhaps by this feeling alone, as an invisible inward prompter, that I understand what people mean by beauty. This, wheresoever it is found, in flower or tree, in human being, animal, or plant, takes its rise always out of filth and abominations. The lily and the rose falls to pieces in your hand, your touch withers it, and it leaves only rottenness behind: the youth's, the virgin's beauty and loveliness--look at it without any self-imposed illusion, without the brutish sting of the senses--is horrour and putridity and everything we revolt from! a few hours of death, a corpse dug out of its tomb, make this woe manifest to all.--And I myself! what is there within me but death? a ghost and a skeleton! the stench of my own corpse haunts me; and in all my feelings there is madness, in all my thoughts despair.”