Читать книгу: «International Weekly Miscellany of Literature, Art and Science — Volume 1, No. 2, July 8, 1850», страница 4

CHAPTER II

If it be a grateful sight to behold the young and happy when all life is bright before them, when the soil which they tread on is covered with flowers, and the only murmurs which they hear are the murmurs of soft breezes, and the only sighs are sighs of passion; not less beautiful is it to see the young linked together in love, struggling with adversity; to see two beings whose sole object in life it is to alleviate the daily toil of each other; to whom every effort of self-denial through the object of its exercise becomes a blessing; to whom the future is full of promise, because exertion gives confidence, and self-confidence is the source of all hope. There is something very touching in the sight of those whom the world deserts, or to whose interests the world is at best indifferent, arousing all their energies to battle with adverse circumstances. Then every little addition to the daily comforts is prized, as the result of independence and of honorable exertion—in a word, as the reward of labor: every holiday arrives fraught not merely with enjoyment, but with blessing. To such there are sources of happiness, which the gay, the wealthy, the children of life's sun know nothing of, but which in their noonday career of splendor and greatness they might well stop to envy.

On such an existence Marguerite had entered. Hers was a simple history, told in few words, but connected with long previous chapters of passions and regrets; for she was the child of love, begotten in tears, and brought up in one of those admirable foundling establishments which prevail in Germany, and are at once the incentives to love and the protection of its offspring. She left it a year previously to the period when we are writing, to enter a family of distinction as a humble friend and teacher. There Dumiger chanced to meet her. When first he met he loved; and like all men of earnest purpose, he loved with no common passion. The family were of that kind so frequently met with in society—affecting great consideration for those whom fate has placed beneath them, but expressing consideration in such terms as made it almost an offense, and proving their vanity in the very manner in which they affected humility. She at once accepted Dumiger, though some months elapsed before it was possible for them to marry. At last, by dint of great exertion, they laid aside sufficient money to commence the world with. Dumiger had the small apartment, within whose narrow limits his mind expanded to the contemplation of the vast field of inquiry on which he presumed to enter, and he transported Marguerite to her new home; there to indulge in imaginations of love, boundless and visionary, as his were of ambition.

The day following that which we have described there was a great annual fête at Dantzic. The free city for the time donned its freest and most joyous manners; it was one of those days in which honest burghers, and most especially honest burghermasters, delight, because they are then enabled to put on their greatness with their broadcloths; and every flag and inscription in the streets is a tribute to their past, and an incentive to their renewed exertions. Fortunately the day rose in more than ordinary brightness; the Mottlaw and the Radaw, two streams which flow through the center of Dantzic, reflected the variegated masses of colors worn by those who thronged their banks; Commerce had for that day deserted the lofty mart and still loftier warehouse to muse by the side of the river which bore her richest freights; processions from the neighboring villages marched with music at their head into the city, bearing the devices of their various trades, and when the crowd separated to let them pass, the captains of companies and humbler officials drew themselves up as they traversed the rude, ill-fashioned pavement of the picturesque and antique gabled city. It was the fête of the patron saints of the town,—strange evidence of a future state, even among those who reflect but little; for there as ever all men turn alike to some mysterious guardian for protection, and like this city are consecrated to some faith. In the midst of these happy groups, which were collected at every corner and filled every gasthof, moved Dumiger and Marguerite, most blessed and happy where all looked smiling and contented. Marguerite was the envy of all brides, and of those who wished to become so; and there was not a young burgher of distinction who had not at some time or another looked upon her with admiring gaze, and followed her to the palace in which she dwelt, and loitered under her window,—where, however, the thin slight curtain was rarely if ever drawn aside to satisfy the vanity of the gazer or to kindle her own. She was of a very admirable beauty, as perfect as is commonly found in nature, which fancy can at will outwork,—tall, of excellent symmetry, with a clear, noble brow, the proudest type of Nature's glory. There were few in town who did not know her at all events, from reputation, and that reputation was spotless. Of Dumiger's appearance we cannot say as much: he would have been decidedly plain but for the indications of genius which his countenance afforded. His forehead was marked with the lines of patient and anxious thought; but these evidences, if they did not serve to please the gazer, at least commanded his respect. He was somewhat bent by premature exertion; the hair, even at that early age, was thin and scanty on the temples; his step was slightly enfeebled by want of proper exercise. Altogether he was a very remarkable man from the intellectual power which every lineament expressed; yet altogether he was scarcely such a person as would have been considered likely to awaken a strong passion in a young girl like Marguerite. For it is too true that, to use the expression of a writer of that age, il avait l'air d'un âme qui avait recontré par hasard un corps et qui s'en tirait comme il pouvait.

And yet—so strange a being is woman!—desirous like the Hindoo wife to sacrifice herself on whatever altar she raises in her heart, Marguerite, in order to marry Dumiger, had refused the greatest offers,—amongst others, no less a person than the son of that house into which she had been received. But irrespective of the affection which she felt for Dumiger, she was in her nature proud and haughty, and she would not have consented, even under other and less favorable circumstances, to have entered where she was despised by the rest of the family. It may be imagined how great indignation was excited in this man by her refusal, the more especially as, like Dumiger, he thought himself a proficient in science and the mechanical arts, and was one of those who in his way was laboring for the prize so soon to be awarded by the city. If merit was to be the test of success, he had but little chance; but where is that man and where are those minds with whom rank and power have not their weight? He was, therefore, if not the most formidable by intellect, at all events by circumstance, the one of Dumiger's competitors the most to be dreaded, for his father was the president of that council which presided over the destinies of Dantzic, and who usurped more than imperial authority. He belonged to the ancient house of Albrect, Grand Master of the Teutonic Knights, and oldest freeman of the Hanseatic League. A strange, proud man, who when he learned indirectly that his son Frederick was in love with Marguerite, indulged in a storm of fearful indignation, until he found from her that on no account did she intend to accept the suit; and then, in spite of his gratification at the certainty that his son could not make a marriage which he thought so discreditable, his vanity was wounded at her decision, and even while he praised Marguerite's disinterested conduct, in his heart he was garnering up hatred against her. A blow to vanity is terrible, and it is a blow which the humblest and weakest can give as well as the most powerful, in the contempt or even the indifference expressed for the pursuit in which we are interested, or for the object which we have attained. So much of our opinion of the value of an object depends on the price which others set upon it, that it is sufficient to know others are indifferent to it for ourselves to undervalue it. But Marguerite went forward in her career of happiness, quite ignorant of the dislike she was leaving behind her. She told Frederick the truth, that she loved Dumiger, and kindly added, that but for this circumstance she might one day have loved him; and then with a light heart she left the splendid palace for the abode of poverty.

They moved on together, those two young and loving beings, and so intent were they on their own happiness, so concentrated in each other, that they did not observe how the crowd through which they passed fell back in admiration: but at last Dumiger caught the expressions of their faces, and saw the glance which accompanied them, and then he almost looked nobly born, so proud became his step and steadfast his gaze. The long market (surrounded with its fantastic gables, strange, rickety, and picturesque, which looked us though they retained the expression of the angular, quaint, rococo faces of those by whom the houses were formerly tenanted) was crowded with all that was gay and animated in Dantzic; around the fountains, somewhat rude in their execution but admirable in their models, the peasants from the neighborhood were congregated. Presently the crowd, which had momentarily become greater and still greater, swayed backward and forward like the tide in a harbor when a noble vessel enters its gates. They made place for a herald, who rode on horseback surrounded by his deputies, and gave notice in an audible voice that on that day week the Supreme Council would meet to decide on the merits of the different pieces of mechanism which were to be submitted to their judgments, and which were to be sent in three days previously. Then the herald recited the rewards which the great and free city offered to the most successful competitors: they were worthy of the great League of which Dantzic was the head:—A house to be kept up at the expense of the State, to be styled the "most honorable," a ring of honor, but above all, a laurel wreath, and to have precedence immediately after the Supreme Council itself. Such was the attachment of the inhabitants of Dantzic to their town and its glories that its embellishment was dearer to them than any personal or material advantages. But it is probable that these honors would not have been so great on the present occasion had the Grand Master not been fully impressed with the belief that his own son would succeed in the contest, and add another and the greatest to the honors which belonged to his house. Marguerite and Dumiger pressed forward through the crowd to hear the proclamation read, and the blood flowed in their cheeks as they listened. Dumiger turned to look at Marguerite, her eyes were moist with love and admiration; he pressed her arm fondly, and said in a low voice,—

"Now, Marguerite, will you forgive me the hours passed in solitude, in selfish silence, when you know how highly the city estimates this work to which my nights and days have been devoted?"

Her only answer was a glance of affection which thrilled through his frame.

It was night, they were tired of wandering about, and entered one of the numerous cafés which had been temporarily erected in celebration of the day. In the center of the Grande Place a stage was built for dancing, and when the band played its liveliest tunes the bright-eyed dancers swept round in admirable time; the variegated lamps which hung around the square checkered the pavement with every variety of hue, cast such a glory on the fountain that its outline was worked as it were with threads of gold. All these different colors and shapes were reflected in the rippling waves of the ever-rolling waters. Youths in the gayest dresses strutted away their proud hour of triumph with that graceful vanity of pretension which youth so well becomes, or flirted with the tender maidens, who in silver-laced bodice and scarlet skirt, with their brows encircled with interwoven wild flowers, sat round the brink of the fountain, where the murmurs of the ever-falling waters could best conceal the murmurs of love. And above all this gorgeous tumult and bright excitement the moon from her throne of silver clouds rose like a virgin queen; the bold architecture of the Dom stood in clear relief, some parts as though sculptured out of heaven's light, while the depths of the arches were buried in mysterious shade, emblematic of the faith to which it was dedicated,—in part clear to the fresh comprehension of the youngest child, and again full of deep and fathomless mysteries. Athwart the flood of light which filled the square, the deep shade of this noble Dom was thrown, like the dark visions of the future which sometimes fall upon the heart in its hours of brightest enjoyment. If one had stood that night on the lofty tower and looked forth on the vast multitude, he need not, Asmodeus-like, have unroofed the houses to read the history of human life or the passions of the human heart, for life and passion had gone forth that night from many a tranquil abode to revel in publicity. One so standing above the wild hum of tumultuous enjoyment would in silent thought have marveled at the strange drama performing as it were at his feet,—the sad and fearful mixture of the shadows and lights of life and death, the market-place, and close at hand the burial-ground. Talk of contemplation in the wild solitudes of the country, how much more is there room for contemplation in the crowded mart and the bustling thoroughfare! Where is the river whose current is so rapid as the current of life, or at time so dangerous and treacherous? Where is the tide whose ebb and flow is so uncertain as the ebb and flow of existence? Where are to be found winds and waves more boisterous than those which agitate the human heart? Where is the shore so strewn with wrecks as the heart with the broken memorials of passion which may have long since swept over it? If Nature in its solitude affords calm enjoyment, in its human development it affords matter for deeper thought; if the view from the mountain-top, extending over hill and dale, expand the mind, to stand above the wild tumult of a town equally exalts the imagination and conveys knowledge, even while it compels the gazer to pass out of himself.

As they approached a coffee-house on the same side of the street as the Dom, Marguerite proposed to Dumiger to remain there, where they could best see the dancing, and she drew a chair toward her.

"No, no, not here!" exclaimed Dumiger; and he took her across the square to another house of greater reputation.

But it was not on this account that Dumiger preferred it, but because it had a view of the Dom; he could there contemplate the space which was left for the clock, of which he fondly believed he was making the model. He pictured to himself that tower, the wonder and admiration of the town; that on the spot where he was then sitting numbers would crowd to view the wonderful machinery fashioned by his genius.

The history of the café to which he took Marguerite was curious; it had been opened not less than one hundred and twenty years without being once entirely closed. It was, in point of fact, formed by two houses, which were used alternately to allow of the necessary repairs and cleansings. On such an occasion as the present they were both thrown open,—the one part was for persons of the second rank, amongst which Dumiger and Marguerite now classed themselves; the other was reserved for the people of the higher order, for in this city of popular institutions and liberal opinions the distinction of classes was very strictly preserved.

Marguerite and Dumiger ordered some slight refreshment. Marguerite was enjoying that repose which is so agreeable to the mind after the sensation of strong happiness; Dumiger, with his head resting on his hand, was gazing on the lofty tower of the Dom, and the light fleecy clouds, which appeared to be almost attracted by the glittering vane. At that moment a rude hand slapped his shoulder.

"You here, Dumiger!" said Carl. "Why, Confound it, man. I thought you were poring over dull tomes of the University library, or worshiping a saint" and he took off his hat to Marguerite. "Here is Krantz, your old friend Krantz, whom you have not seen since we were all at Bonn together: so I will drink with you as well as he did three years since, when we reveled in Rhenish."

Dumiger seized the extended hand, a gleam shot across his mind: the three years of abstraction and thought appeared to be swept away; he only beheld his two boon companions; his countenance was lightened of a dozen years.

"Marguerite, these are two friends of mine," he said; "it is getting late and cold. See, the lights on the fountains are burning very dim, and the benches are deserted. You will not grudge me this one night for acquaintance sake, dear Marguerite? I shall not he late, but I must grant myself one bottle to-night to drink to my success. What, angry, my Marguerite!"

She was not angry, but she thought that love in life is of rare fulfillment. Again another night of loneliness: yesterday it was a disagreeable necessity, now an agreeable excitement, but both alike led to a lonely room and a lonely heart. But in the shade Dumiger pressed her hand, and assured her with many kisses that he would return within two hours, and she tried to feel satisfied and assured. The three friends sat down; a larger table replaced the small stand which had been exclusively devoted to ices; three bottles of huge dimensions were brought from the cellar; pledge after pledge was received and given. Dumiger became a different man, save that at moments, in the midst of some burst of louder hilarity, the cloud of ambition would cross his brow and seem to furrow it, and then he would fold his arms across his breast, as if to repress the outbreak of his soul. It was during one of these moments of abstraction that Carl turned suddenly round.

"Why, Dumiger," he exclaimed, "you do not fill your glass! In former days, man, you were of a very different mood. Has marriage so tamed you? Won't Marguerite allow it!"

Krantz and the two friends made the place ring with their rude students' laugh. "Ha! ha! I, why I am in excellent spirits," said Dumiger, filling a bumper with the strongest of the wines upon the table. "I ought to be in good spirits, for I have everything to make me so."

"Ay, the most beautiful girl in Dantzic for a wife," said Carl.

"With a large fortune?" said Krantz, laughing.

"That will come," replied Dumiger, heated by wine.

"Large fortune!" they both exclaimed; "where are you to get it, student? Have you found an old cave in the Grime Thor, Dumiger, with a fortune buried, as the old romances have it?"

"Yes, I shall soon discover a fortune," exclaimed the boy, now fairly excited, and his cheeks glowing with animation; "and more than a fortune. Fame and honors shall be heaped upon us. Do you imagine that I have been wasting the last three years of my life? do you believe that the ambition which was the subject of your illusive aim at college is dead? No! look here, Carl and Krantz, this day week will see me famous, and ennoble my family till it vies even with the Grand Master's."

"You are mad," said Carl.

"No, I am speaking words of soberness," said he, with an earnestness which carried conviction even to those wild spirits. "I tell you that I have an inward confidence that I shall win this prize which was proclaimed to-day, that my name will be associated with the proudest fame ever reared in Dantzic. Oh, the nights and days of toil, the hopes and fears which have agitated me, for the last three years: these will account to you for the paleness of my cheek, and my vacant look. Well, I have this day completed the test by which the accuracy of my work is proved, and now I hold I shall be great."

He spoke so loud that his voice echoed through the peristyle; it disturbed one not the least interested in the conversation, Frederick Asprecht. He lent an attentive ear to all that fell from the speaker's lips, and then he learned that not only had he been robbed of an affection which he had striven to win, but that the same man who had married Marguerite was about to take from him the possibility of obtaining a prize he sought for. In the vanity of his pretensions he could not believe it possible that Dumiger really was not at the moment speaking extravagantly; it was not until he listened attentively, and heard him give a detailed account of the nature of his mechanism, that he saw (for he was not wanting in scientific knowledge) that Dumiger's confidence was far from misplaced. Frederick, when he had heard sufficient, left the place with a heavy heart, and with melancholy step retired to his chambers of luxury.

He entered the Grand Master's palace, and through the vast marble hall, where the banners hung against the walls, and devices and armorial bearings testified to the antiquity and gallantry of his race. The lofty roof, supported by vast ashen beams, echoed to each step as it rang on the pavement. Sculpture and painting decorated the several galleries; but he passed by all unnoticed, for he had one object in view which absorbed all others, and rendered him now indifferent to the luxuries and grandeur by which he was surrounded. To his surprise when he entered a colonnade full of the choicest flowers, which united the extreme wings of the vast building, he found his father walking there with an anxious, timid step, his manner was nervous and uneasy.

"Frederick," said the old man, one of those dignified, astute, tall, gray-bearded, and keen-eyed men, whom we find in the picture galleries of the middle ages, dressed in a suit of stately black, with the golden chain of his order, and riband of the Fleece, "I was very anxious to see you, my son. The influence of our house is deserting us; you have not attended the council lately—there is a majority organizing against us. You should be at your post my son. The first element of success in life is industry—patient, untiring industry; it is to this we owe the fortunes of our house the very decorations which I wear, the consideration with which I am treated," and the old man curled the long, tapering moustache, partly in pride, partly in anger.

"But, my father, you forget that I am wholly occupied in my studies—that you yourself urged me to contend for the prize which the city gives—that you considered this would be the readiest means of extending your family influence."

"Forget!" exclaimed the old man indignantly. "Forget!" and his spurs clanged upon the pavement. "I am not quite so old as to forget thus—neither do I forget that you wasted three months in making love to that jungfrau Marguerite, and three more months in lamenting her loss, even after she had spurned you, you son of the chief citizen of Dantzic. You succeed in nothing, sir; unstable as water, you trifle away all existence. Now tell me, you solitary student, where have you been to-night? Of course not wasting every moment in the holiday with your boon companions, and making love to all the peasants? Speak, sir."

"It is true, my father; I was at the fair," replied Frederick, submissively.

"You tell the truth at any rate," continued the Count, somewhat touched by his frankness. "Well, then, we won't say anything more about the past and Marguerite; but tell me as frankly what prospect you have of success in the competition for this famous clock, for on that will greatly depend the power of sustaining our family influence."

So appealed to, Frederick thought it wise at once to prepare his father for the truth. He told him that until that evening he had imagined that he possessed every prospect of obtaining the prize, and then he repeated all that he had overheard Dumiger asserting. In the bitterness of his spirit he inveighed against him as a personal enemy, and as he spoke vehemently and earnestly, his father's eyes glistened with vengeance and pleasure, for he saw that the dignity of the father had passed into his son; he had never seen the youth so excited, he now felt that he was worthy of the old time-honored race.

"Ah," he said, "Dumiger again; and his scheme and plan seem well founded. However, neither the man nor his production will find great favor in the council while I have influence there; he may exaggerate his merits."

"I think not," said Frederick. "But there is one way to get rid of his competition," said Frederick, laying his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"No, no, young man; take your hand from your sword: I will have no brawling, no bloodshed, like those common burghers, whose sons are even now rustling through the market-place. But wait a little; night gives counsel. I think I have a way far more practical and less hazardous than that which you propose—leave the matter in my hands, Frederick. I am glad to find you have some spirit, that it has not all been dissipated on that foolish girl; there is always hope in man where there is energy. What I feared was that you might become a mere dreamer, and struggle through an idle, vaporing existence: now I hold that you are worthy of your name, although the conviction has reached me in an unpleasant form. But leave this to me, all will be right; you have only one thing to do, to send Hoffman to me to-morrow morning."

"Hoffman the silversmith, who lives at the corner near the senate house?" asked Frederick.

"Precisely," replied the Count, and soon his firm unbroken step was heard ringing in the distance.

Frederick went out on the balcony to meditate on what possible steps his father proposed taking to overrule the opposition of Dumiger. With all his frivolity and dissipation he was greatly ambitious, and most anxious to sustain a reputation he had long enjoyed of having it in his power to command success in any pursuit to which he chose to direct his attention—that Alcibiades and Admirable Crichton character which is the principal source of failure to many men in life. With the exception of the hours wasted in the useless pursuit of Marguerite, he certainly had not in the present instance been wanting in exertion, and he also had, like many other chief burghers in Dantzic, turned his attention to mechanical pursuits; it was the first time, he now felt convinced, that those exertions would be all thrown away. As he looked down from the lofty gallery in which he was standing on the dense circle of happy dancers, who were whirling round and round in the center of the square; as he heard the joyous laugh from the numerous groups who thronged the coffee-houses; as the plumes of the guards waved in the moonlight, and the light flashed on the bright uniforms and brighter checks which reposed upon them, he began to think how idle was a life of ambition, how far happier he was when as a boy he joined in the merry supper; when the clear, bright, sparkling wine represented the free spirits of those who drank it; when maidens, with gay hearts and light golden hair, sought his love. "Give me back these joys," he exclaimed in agony; "give me that youth which graced the pursuits of love, and which dignified every enjoyment: take from me that ambition, which only leads to misery in its failure and to disappointment in its fulfillment."