He held out his large hand to him.
"Keep your books," he cried out, to the departing visitor. "I can see through that scheme, you will buy them again, and then I shall have to pay for them anyhow."
CHAPTER XXXII.
A CHAPTER FROM TACITUS
Tobias Bachhuber! when your sponsors concluded that you should be called Tobias they did bad service to you and your descendants. For he who bears that name is by fate subjected to experiences that do not fall to the lot of more favorably named men. Who ever passed so miserable a honey-moon as Tobias the younger, the poor son of the blind man? For was he not obliged to fast, and to struggle with a murderous spirit just at a time when a spiritual struggle would be highly disagreeable to any mortal? Even you, blessed Bachhuber, have bitterly experienced the misfortune of your name. Whether the fatal war with Sweden may have arisen because the Swedes hankered after your manuscript, will not be discussed here; it is to be hoped that new historical investigations may yet bring this secret motive of action to light. But it cannot be denied that you yourself suffered lamentably in the war, and the curse of your name still clings to the treasure which you concealed. All who have anything to do with it have their eyes blinded, and an evil spirit destroys their hopes.
The Professor also was tormented with this blindness, and troubled by the demon. He had found nothing. Many would have been weary and given it up, but his eagerness only increased, for he did not, by any means, search heedlessly; he knew very well that the discovery depended on a long chain of accidents which were beyond all calculation. But he wished to do all in his power; his task was to give assurance to the learned of the world that the archives, collections, and inventories of the Sovereign had been thoroughly examined. This certainty at least he could obtain better than any one else, and he would thus do his duty both to the Sovereign and to Learning. But his impatience became more eager, and the cheerful excitement he felt at first increased to uncomfortable agitation; constant disappointment disturbed his daily frame of mind. He often sat lost in thought, nay, he was always speaking of the treasure, and Ilse could not please him; her objections and even her consolation wounded him, for he was very much vexed that she did not partake of his zeal. He knew accurately what would be the appearance of the manuscript-a large, thick quarto, very old characters, perhaps of the sixth century, much faded, and many leaves half destroyed, for he could not conceal from himself that the mischievous spirit of the times, water and the rats, might have made havoc with it.
One day the Professor entered the Princess's study with heightened color.
"At last I can bring you a good report. In a small bundle of deeds in the Marshal's office, which had hitherto unaccountably escaped me, I have found a lost entry on a single sheet. The chests which the official at Bielstein sent in the beginning of the last century to the vanished castle are briefly designated as numbers one and two, with a remark that they contained besides old cross-bows, arrows, &c., manuscripts of the monastery of Rossau. Thus, there were two chests with manuscripts of the monastery in them."
The Princess looked with curiosity at the sheet which he laid before her.
"It was high time that this account should come to light," continued the Professor, gaily; "for I confess to your Highness that the phantom pursued me day and night. This is a valuable confirmation that I am on the right path."
"Yes," cried the Princess, "I am convinced we shall find the treasure. If I could but help you a little. If it could be obtained by magic, I would gladly put on my magic girdle and call upon Lady Hecate. Unfortunately this mode of calling spirits to one's aid is out of date, and it is difficult to learn the secret art by which learned gentlemen unearth their treasures."
"I also am now little better than a wretched exorcist," answered the Professor. "It would be a bad recommendation for me if your Highness were to judge of my work by what I have achieved here in stirring up the old dust. One is delighted and disappointed, like a child. It is fortunate that fate does not often tease us book-writers with such tricks; what we do for the benefit of others does not depend upon accidental discoveries."
"I can form an idea of the seriousness of the work which I do not see," exclaimed the Princess. "Your kindness has opened at least an aperture through which I can look into the workshop of creative minds. I can understand that the labor of learned men must have an irresistible attraction for those who belong to that silent community. I envy the women whose happiness it is to live their whole lives within the sphere of such occupations."
"We are bold conquerors at the writing-table," answered the Professor; "but the incongruity between our inward freedom and outward helplessness is often felt by the conqueror and those about him. They who really pass their lives with us may easily fathom us, and can with difficulty bear our one-sidedness. For, your Highness, learned men themselves are like the books they write. In general we are badly prepared for the whirl of business, and sometimes helpless in the manifold activity of our time. We are true friends to men in those hours in which they seek new strength for the struggle of life, but in the struggle itself we are generally unskilful assistants."
"Are you thinking of yourself in speaking thus?" asked the Princess, quickly.
"I had in my mind a picture of the combined traits of many of my fellow-workers, but if your Highness inquires, about myself, I also am in this respect a regular man of learning. For I have often had opportunity of remarking how imperfect is my judgment on all questions in which my learning or my moral feeling do not give me assurance."
"I do not like that, Mr. Werner," cried the Princess, leaning gravely back in her arm-chair. "My fancy took its highest flight; I sat as sovereign of the world, prepared to make my people happy, and I made you my minister of state."
"Your confidence gives me pleasure," replied the Professor; "but if your Highness should ever be in the position to seek for an assistant in government, I could not accept this dignity with a good conscience unless your Highness's subjects had all been passed through the bookbinder's press, and wore little coats of pasteboard, and had on their backs labels that told the contents of each."
The Princess laughed, but her eyes rested with deep feeling on the honest countenance of the man. She rose and approached him.
"You are always true, open, and high-minded."
"Thanks for your judgment," replied the Professor, much pleased. "Even your Highness treats me like a spirit that dwells in a book; you praise me as openly as if I did not understand the words that you speak. I beg permission to convey to your Highness my feelings also in a review."
"What I am like, I do not wish to hear from you," exclaimed the Princess; "for you would, in spite of the harmlessness which you boast of, end by reading me as plainly as if I had a morocco-covered back and gilt edges. But I am serious when I praise you. Yes, Mr. Werner, since you have been with us I have attained to a better understanding of the value of life. You do not know what an advantage it is for me to have intercourse with a mind which, undisturbed by the little trifles around it, only serves its high goddess of Truth. The turmoil of daily life bears hard upon us, and perplexes us; those by whom I am surrounded, even the best of them, all think and care about themselves, and make convenient compacts between their feeling of duty and their egotism. But in you I perceive unselfishness and the incessant devotion of yourself to the highest labor of man. There is something great and lofty in this that overpowers me with admiration. I feel the worth of such an existence, like a new light that penetrates my soul. Never have I known any one about me so inspired with heaven in his breast. That is my review of you, Professor Werner; it is, perhaps, not well written, but it comes from my heart."
The eyes of the learned man shone as he looked at the enthusiastic countenance of the princely child, but he was silent. There was a long pause. The Princess turned away, and bent over her books. At last she began, with gentle voice:
"You are going to your daily work, I will do so also. Before you leave me, I beg of you to be my instructor: I have marked a place in the work no art that you had the kindness to bring from the library, which I could not quite understand."
The Professor took the open book from her hand, and laughed.
"This is the theory of quite a different art; it is not the right book."
The Princess read, "How to make blanc-mange." She opened the title page: "Common-sense cook-book of an old Nuremberg cook." She turned the book round with astonishment; it was the same simple binding.
"How does this come here?" she exclaimed, with vexation, and rang for her maid.
"No one has been here," said the latter, "except the Princes, a short time ago."
"Ah!" exclaimed the Princess, depressed. "Then there is no hope. We are now under the dominion of a mischievous spirit, and must wait till our book returns. Farewell, Mr. Werner; if the mischievous spirit restores me the book I shall call you back."
When the Professor had taken leave, the maid came back alarmed and brought the lost Archæology in a sad condition. The book was in the cage of the monkey. Giocco had studied it industriously, and was furious when the volume was taken away from him.
At the same hour the Chamberlain was standing before the Sovereign.
"Your friends from the University have domesticated themselves with us; I take for granted that you have done your best to make our city agreeable to them."
"Professor Werner appears well contented," replied the Chamberlain, with reserve.
"Has your sister Malwine made the acquaintance of the Professor's wife?"
"Unfortunately my sister has been obliged to nurse a sick aunt in the country."
"That is a pity," replied the Sovereign; "she may have reason to regret this accident. Some time ago you expressed your opinion that some practical occupation would be beneficial to the Hereditary Prince; I have considered the matter. It will be necessary to find the means of a temporary residence in the district of Rossau. The old forester's lodge will not be ill adapted to it. I have determined by additional building to change the house into a habitable residence. The Hereditary Prince must be on the spot to plan the building according to his wishes, and you will accompany him. The architect has orders to draw the plans according to the Prince's directions. I only wish to speak to him about the proposed estimate. Meanwhile the Hereditary Prince will occupy the rooms that are reserved for me in the forester's lodge. But as the building will not take up his whole time, he may employ his leisure in obtaining an insight into our agricultural methods, at the farm of the adjoining proprietor. He should learn about field-work and book-keeping. The year is already far advanced, which makes a speedy departure advisable. I hope this arrangement will meet a wish that you have long entertained. The beautiful country and the quiet wood will be a refreshment to you after your winterwork."
The Chamberlain bowed dismayed before his master, who so graciously pronounced his banishment from Court. He hastened to the Hereditary Prince and related the bad tidings.
"It is exile!" he exclaimed, beside himself.
"Make your preparations speedily," replied the Hereditary Prince quietly. "I am prepared to go at once."
The Hereditary Prince went to his father.
"I will do what you command, and make every effort to please you. If you, as a father, consider this residence in a distant place useful, I feel that you understand better than I what will be beneficial for my future. But," he continued, with hesitation, "I cannot go from here without making a request which I have much at heart."
"Speak, Benno," said the Sovereign, graciously.
"I beg of you to permit the Professor and his wife to depart as quickly as possible from the neighborhood of the Court."
"Why so?" asked the Sovereign sharply.
"Their residence here is hurtful to Mrs. Werner. Her reputation is endangered by the unusual position in which she is placed. I owe him and her great gratitude; their happiness is a matter of concern to me, and I am tormented by the thought that their stay in our parts threatens to disturb the peace of their life."
"And why does your gratitude fear a disturbance of the happiness that is so dear to you?" asked the Sovereign.
"It is said that the Pavillion is a fateful residence for an honorable woman," replied the Hereditary Prince, decidedly.
"If what you call honor is endangered by her dwelling there, then that virtue is easily lost," said the Sovereign, bitterly.
"It is not the dwelling alone," continued the Hereditary Prince; "the ladies of the Court have been quite reserved in their conduct toward her; she is ill spoken of: gossip and calumny are busy in fabricating a false representation of her innocent life."
"I hear with astonishment," said the Sovereign, "the lively interest you take in the stranger; yet, if I am rightly informed, you yourself during this time have shown her little chivalrous attention."
"I have not done so," exclaimed the Hereditary Prince, "because I have felt myself bound to avoid, at least so far as I was concerned, any conduct that might injure her. I saw the jeering looks of our gentlemen when she arrived; I heard their derogatory words about the new beauty who was shut up in that house, and my heart beat with shame and anger. Therefore I have painfully controlled myself; I have feigned indifference before those about me, and I have been cold in my demeanor towards her; but, my father, it has been a hard task to me, and I have felt deep and bitter anxiety in the past few weeks; for the happiest hours of my life at college were passed in her society."
The Sovereign had turned away; he now showed his son a smiling countenance.
"So that was the reason of your reserve. I had forgotten that you had reached the age of tender susceptibility and were inclined to expend more emotion and sentiment on your relations to women than is good for you. Yet I could envy you this. Unfortunately, life does not long retain its sensitive feelings." He approached the Prince, and continued, good-humoredly: "I do not deny, Benno, that in your interest I regarded the arrival of our visitors differently. For a prince of your nature there is perhaps nothing so fraught with culture as the tender feeling for a woman who makes no demands on the external life of her friend, and yet gives him all the charm of an intimate union of soul. Love affairs with ladies of the Court or with assuming intrigants would be dangerous for you; you must be on your guard that the woman to whom you devote yourself will not trifle with you and selfishly make use of you for her own ends. From all that I knew, your connection with the lady in the Pavilion was just what would be advantageous for your future life. From reasons of which I have full appreciation, you have avoided accepting this idyllic relation. You yourself have not chosen what I, with the best intentions, prepared for you; it seems to me, therefore, that you have lost the right in this affair to express any wishes whatever."
"Father," exclaimed the Hereditary Prince, horrified, and wringing his hands, "your saying this to me is indeed unkind. I had a dark foreboding that the invitation to them had some secret object in view. I have struggled with this suspicion, and blamed myself for it; now I am dismayed with the thought that I myself am the innocent cause of this misfortune to these good people. Your words give me the right to repeat my request: let them go as soon as possible, or you will make your son miserable."
"I perceive an entirely new phase of your character," replied the Sovereign; "and I am thankful to you for the insight that you have at last accorded me into your silent nature. You are either a fantastical dreamer, or you have a talent for diplomacy that I have never attributed to you."
"I have never been other than candid to you," exclaimed the Hereditary Prince.
"Shall the lady return to her home at Bielstein to be saved?" asked the Sovereign mockingly.
"No," replied the Hereditary Prince, in a low tone.
"Your demand scarcely deserves an answer," continued the father. "The strangers have been called here for a certain time. The husband is not in my service. I am neither in a position to send them away, as they have given me no reason for dissatisfaction, nor to keep them here against their will."
"Forgive me, my father," exclaimed the Hereditary Prince. "You have yourself, by the gracious attention which you daily show to the wife, by your civil gifts and frequent visits, occasioned the Court to think that you take a special personal interest in her."
"Is the Court so busy in reporting to you what I, through the unbecoming conduct of others, have thought fit to do?" asked the Sovereign.
"Little is reported to me of what those about us say, and be assured that I do not lend a ready ear to their conjectures; but it is inevitable that I sometimes must hear what occupies them all and makes them all indignant. They venture to maintain even, that every one who does not show her attention is in disgrace with you; and they think that they show special firmness of character and respectability in refusing to be civil to her. You, as well as she, are threatened with calumny. Forgive me, my father, for being thus frank. You yourself have by your favor brought the lady into this dangerous position, and therefore it lies with you to deliver her from it."
"The Court always becomes virtuous when its master selects for distinction a lady who does not belong to their circle; and you will soon learn the value of such strict morals," replied the Sovereign. "It must be a strong sentiment, Benno, which drives your timid nature to the utmost limits of the freedom of speech that is allowable from a son to a father."
The pale face of the Hereditary Prince colored.
"Yes, my father," he cried, "hear what to every other ear will remain a secret; I love that lady with fervent and devoted heart. I would with pleasure make the greatest sacrifice in my power for her. I have felt the power that the beauty and innocence of a woman can exercise on a man. More than once have I strengthened myself by contact with her pure spirit. I was happy when near her, and unhappy when I could not look into her eyes. For a whole year I have thought in secret of her, and in this sorrowful feeling I have grown to be a man. That I have now courage to speak thus to you, I owe to the influence which she has exercised upon me. I know, my father, how unhappy such a passion makes one; I know the misery of being for ever deprived of the woman one loves. The thought of the peace of her pure soul alone has sustained me in hours of bitterness. Now you know all. I have confided my secret to you and I beg of you, my Sovereign and father, to receive this confidence with indulgence. If you have hitherto cared for my welfare, now is the time when you can show me the highest proof of our sincerity. Honor the woman who is loved by your unhappy son."
The countenance of the Sovereign had changed while his son was speaking, and the latter was terrified at its menacing expression.
"Seek, for your tale, the ear of some knight-errant who eagerly drinks the water into which a tear of his lady-love has dropped."
"Yes, I seek your knightly help, my liege and Sovereign," cried the Hereditary Prince, beside himself. "I conjure you, do not let me implore you in vain. I call upon you, as the head of our illustrious house, and as a member of the order whose device we both wear, to do a service to me and for her. Do not refuse her your support in her danger."
"We are not attending a mediæval ceremony," replied the Sovereign, coldly, "and your speech does not accord with the tone of practical life. I have not desired your confidence-you have thrust it upon me in too bold a manner. Do not wonder that your father is angry with your presumptuous speech, and that your Sovereign dismisses you with displeasure."
The Hereditary Prince turned pale and stepped back.
"The anger of my father and the displeasure of my Sovereign are misfortunes which I feel deeply; but still more fearful to me is the thought, that here at Court an injury is done to an innocent person-an injury in which I must have a share. However heavily your anger may fall upon me, yet I must tell you that you have exposed the lady to misrepresentation, and as long as I stand before you I will repeat it, and not desist from my request to remove her from here, for the sake of her honor and ours."
"As your words flutter ceaselessly about the same empty phantom," replied the Sovereign, "it is time to put an end to this conversation. You will depart at once, and leave it to time to enable me to forget, if I ever can do so, what I have heard from you to-day. Till then you may reflect in solitude on your folly, in wishing to play the part of guardian to strangers who are quite in a position to take care of themselves."
The Hereditary Prince bowed.
"Has my most Sovereign liege any commands for me?" he asked, with trembling lips.
The Sovereign replied sullenly:
"It only remains to you how to excite the ill-will of the strangers against your father."
"Your Highness knows that such conduct would not become me."
The Sovereign waved his hand, and his son departed with a silent bow.
Immediately upon quitting the apartment of the father, the Prince ordered his carriage, and then hastened to his sister. The Princess looked anxiously into his disturbed countenance.
"You are going away?" she exclaimed.
"Farewell!" he said, holding out his hand to her. "I am going into the country to build a new castle for us in case we should wish to change the scene of action."
"When do you return, Benno?"
The Hereditary Prince shrugged his shoulders.
"When the Sovereign commands. My task is now to become something of an architect and farmer; this is a useful occupation. Farewell, Sidonie. If chance should bring you together with Mrs. Werner, I would be greatly indebted to you if you would not attend to the gossip of the Court, but remember that she is a worthy lady, and that I owe her a great debt of gratitude."
"Are you dissatisfied with me, my brother?" asked the Princess, anxiously.
"Make reparation for it, Siddy, as best you can. Farewell!"
Prince Victor accompanied him to the carriage. The Hereditary Prince clasped his hand, and looked significantly towards the Pavilion. Victor nodded. "That's my opinion too," he said. "Before I go back to my garrison I will visit you in the land of cat-tails. I expect to find you as a brother hermit, with a long beard and a cap made of tree-bark. Farewell, Knight Toggenburg, and learn there that the best philosophy on earth is to consider every day as lost on which one cannot do some foolish trick. If one does not do this business one's self, others will take the trouble off one's hands. It is always more pleasant to be the hammer than the anvil."
The Sovereign was gloomy and silent at dinner; only short remarks fell from his lips, and sometimes a bitter jest, from which one remarked that he was striving for composure; the Court understood that this unpleasant mood was connected with the departure of the Hereditary Prince, and every one took care not to irritate him. The Professor alone was able to draw a smile from him, when he good-humoredly told about the enchanted castle, Solitude. After dinner the Sovereign conversed with one of his aides-de-camp as well as the Professor. The latter turned to the High Steward; and although he usually avoided the reserved politeness of the man, he on this occasion asked him some indifferent questions. The High Steward answered civilly that the Marshal, who was close by, could give him the best information, and he changed his place. Immediately afterwards the Sovereign walked straight through the company to the High Steward, and drew him into the recess of the window, and began:
"You accompanied me on my first journey to Italy, and, if I am not mistaken, partook a little of my fondness for antiquities. Our collection is being newly arranged and a catalogue fully prepared."
The High Steward expressed his acknowledgment of this princely liberality.
"Professor Werner is very active," continued the Sovereign; "it is delightful to see how well he understands to arrange the specimens."
The High Steward remained silent.
"Your Excellency will remember how when in Italy we were much amused at the enthusiasm of collectors who, luring strangers into their cabinets, wildly gesticulated and rhapsodized over some illegible inscription. Like most other men, our guest is also afflicted with a hobby. He suspected that an old manuscript lay concealed in a house in our principality; therefore he married the daughter of the proprietor; and as, in spite of that, he did not find the treasure, he is now secretly seeking this phantasm in the old garrets of the palace. Has he never spoken to you of it?"
"I have as yet had no occasion to seek his confidence," replied the High Steward.
"Then you have missed something," continued the Sovereign; "in his way he speaks well and readily about it; it will amuse you to examine more closely this species of folly. Come presently with him into my study."
The High Steward bowed; and on the breaking up of the party, informed the Professor that the Sovereign wished to speak to him.
The gentlemen entered the Sovereign's apartment, in order to afford him an hour of entertainment.
"I have told his Excellency," the Sovereign began, "that you have a special object of interest which you pursue like a sportsman. How about the manuscript?"
The Professor related his new discovery of the two chests.
"The next hunting-ground which I hope to try will be the garrets and rooms in the summer castle of the Princess; if these yield me no booty, I would hardly know of any place that has not been searched."
"I shall be delighted if you soon attain your object," said the Sovereign, looking at the High Steward. "I assume that the discovery of this manuscript will be of great importance for your own professional career. Of course you will consent to publish the same."
"It would be the noblest task that could fall to my lot," replied the Professor, "always supposing that your Highness would graciously entrust the work to me."
"You shall undertake the work, and no other," replied the Sovereign, laughing, "so far as I have the right to decide it. So the invisible book will be really of great importance to learning?"
"The greatest importance. The contents of it will be of the highest value to every scholar. I think it would also interest your Highness," said the Professor, innocently, "for the Roman Tacitus is in a certain sense a Court historian; the main point of his narrative is the characters of the Emperors who, in the first century of our era, decided the fate of the old world. It is indeed, on the whole, a sorrowful picture."
"Did he belong to the hostile party?" inquired the Sovereign.
"He is the great narrator of the peculiar deformity of character found in the sovereigns of the ancient world; we have to thank him for a series of psychological studies of a malady that then developed itself on the throne."
"That is new to me," replied the Sovereign, fidgeting on his chair.
"Your Highness will, I am convinced, view the various forms of this mental malady with the greatest sympathy, and will find in other periods of the past-nay, even in the earlier civilization of our own people-many remarkable parallel cases."
"Do you speak of a special malady that only befalls rulers?" asked the Sovereign; "physicians will be grateful to you for this discovery."
"In fact," answered the Professor, eagerly, "the fearful importance of this phenomenon is far too little estimated; no other has exercised such an immeasurable influence on the fate of nations. The destruction by pestilence and war is small in comparison with the fatal devastation of nations which has been occasioned by this special misfortune of the rulers. For this malady, which raged long after Tacitus among the Roman emperors, is not an ailing that is confined to ancient Rome-it is undoubtedly as old as the despotisms of the human race; even later it has been the lot of numerous rulers in Christian states; it has produced deformed and grotesque characters in every period; it has been for thousands of years the worm enclosed in the brain, consuming the marrow of the head, destroying the judgment and corroding the moral feelings, until at last nothing remained but the hollow glitter of life. Sometimes it became madness which could be proved by medical men, but in numerous other cases the capacity for practical life did not cease and the secret mischief was carefully concealed. There were periods when only occasional firmly-established minds preserved their full healthy vigor; and again other centuries when the heads that wore a diadem inhaled a fresh atmosphere from the people. I am convinced that he whose vocation it is to investigate accurately the conditions of later times will, in the course of his studies, discover the same malady under a milder form. My life lies far from these observations, but the Roman state undoubtedly shows the strangest forms of the malady; for there were the widest relations, and such a powerful development of human nature both in virtue and vice as has seldom since been found in history."
"It seems to be a particular pleasure to the learned gentlemen to bring to light these sufferings of former rulers," said the Sovereign.