The king had arrived during the night. In order to avoid the pomp of a
reception, he came unannounced. He regarded himself as a guest of the
queen, for whom alone he had ordered the preparation of this modest
summer retreat.
On the following morning, Gunther, decorated with his orders, repaired
to the farm.
He felt that the tone of their little circle must suffer a change by
the advent of any new-comer, even if possessed of a more yielding
disposition than that of the king.
Gunther had not seen the king since he waited upon him to thank him for
the order he had conferred upon him. He was composed. One point in
favor of court forms is that they are fixed and unalterable, as well as
independent of passing moods.
Gunther's path led along the slope of a projecting hill, and, on the
way, his thoughts involuntarily recurred to Eberhard. The early hour,
the mountain air, and the close-fitting uniform--all were just as they
had been years ago.
Eberhard had always maintained that unmeaning politeness is only
disguised rudeness. He required that every word and act should come
from the depths of one's soul, and that, at every moment, life should
be truthful. During the years he had spent in solitude, Gunther came to
perceive that the concessions he had made to his surroundings had, to a
certain extent, involved failure to comply with this precept. He now
found his greatest happiness in being perfectly truthful toward himself
and the world, and for this reason, in the work in which he expected to
sum up the results of his life, he had expressed his feelings without
reserve or disguise.
When his eye fell on the farmhouse, he paused to collect his thoughts.
He was about to pay his respects to the man who had endeavored to
degrade him.
The king stood at the open window and, when he saw Gunther approach,
was greatly agitated. If the dignity that befits kings had not
forbidden it, he would gladly have called out a welcome to the man whom
he esteemed so highly; and if kingly dignity requires this much, it
also possesses one great advantage--for while he who desires admittance
still waits, he who grants it maintains his natural freedom, or, in
other words, is at home while the other is as a stranger.
Gunther sent in his name, and was at once admitted. The king advanced
to meet him, and said:
"Welcome, my dear privy councilor! I am heartily glad--" He faltered at
the words and, as if changing his mind, added: "I am delighted to have
an opportunity to wish you joy! One scarcely knows whether to say that
you deserve such a son as Minister Bronnen or that he deserves such a
father as you. It's all the same, I suppose," he concluded, with a
smile which seemed somewhat forced.
"I humbly thank Your Majesty--" Gunther also hesitated, for it was a
long while since he had used this phrase--"for the interest you have
graciously manifested in me and mine."
The king and Gunther met under changed and mutually embarrassing
circumstances, and congratulations on Bronnen's engagement seemed to
afford a convenient subject of conversation. It was, nevertheless,
followed by a pause, in which the two men, who had been separated for
two years, eyed each other as if each would again impress his memory
with the features which, for many years, he had seen almost daily.
Gunther had changed but little. His beard was short, thick, and of a
snowy white. The king's figure was fuller than it had been. His face
wore a deep and earnest expression which harmonized with his winning
and amiable deportment. His movements seemed to have gained, rather
than lost, in elasticity and vigor.
"I hear," said the king, resuming the conversation, "that you are
engaged on a great philosophical work, and I feel that we have reason
to congratulate ourselves thereat, for that will afford us an
opportunity to enjoy those fruits of your thought which, in our daily
intercourse, we are now deprived of."
"Your Majesty, I am reviewing my life and striking a balance. In some
respects, there is more, in others, less than I had reason to hope for.
I live within myself, and am happy to think that, when I look out into
the world, I can perceive that those who are called for great purposes
can show a clear balance sheet."
"Growth is slow," said the king. "While driving through the fields
yesterday, I thought to myself: how long it takes before the blade of
corn becomes the ripened ear. We cannot see how much it grows with each
day. We can only note the result."
Smiling, and perfectly unconstrained, he added: "I am imparting my
latest observations to you. It seems--it seems--as though it were but
yesterday, since we last met. Let us go into the garden."
On the way, the king asked: "How do you find the prince?"
"He has a well-built frame and, as far as I can judge, his mental
development is normal and healthy."
In consequence of the long years of separation and the lingering
feeling of reserve, there were frequent breaks in the conversation.
"You have again been living among the people," said the king, "and has
your experience satisfied you that the popular mind (or, in other
words, popular simplicity in thought and manners) is the divinely
appointed corrective of the errors of a higher civilization?"
Gunther looked up as if amazed. Was the question an idle one, or did a
deeper significance underlie it? Had the king not succeeded in
conquering his dislike of popular verdicts? Or did he--as a proof of
returning royal favor--merely intend to afford the man whom he had so
deeply injured, an opportunity to gratify his vanity by ventilating his
opinions?
Quick as lightning, these thoughts flashed through his mind. After a
short pause, he replied:
"With Your Majesty's permission, let me, before proceeding to answer
you, state the question more distinctly."
"Pray do so."
A pause ensued, just as if they were trying and tuning inner
instruments which, coming from unequal temperatures, had not yet been
brought into harmony with each other; for although both men were calm
and self-controlled, their moods were not in accord.
"If by the term 'popular mind,' you mean those views and states of
feeling which are not based upon scientific laws or art traditions, but
which seem as fixed and unchangeable as the forces of nature; and if,
on the other hand, you apply the term 'corrective' to that which
separates us from all that is alien or effete, and leads us, as it
were, back to nature--I am prepared to answer your question as well as
I know how."
"I am entirely satisfied with the form in which you put the question,"
replied the king. "I often think that discussions are barren of
results, simply because the question was vaguely or imperfectly stated
at the start."
Gunther nodded a smiling approval of these words.
"And now for the answer," asked the king, all attention.
"Although I may seem to wander from the point, I shall soon return to
it. The event from which it dates, forms a turning point in the history
of mankind. Unlike all that went before, the central figure which later
generations have idealized, and from which they have drawn inspiration,
was not born on Olympic heights. Jesus was born in a manger, and yet
kings performed pious pilgrimages to the spot. The fact that the Spirit
which is innate with the pure man, could even be born in a manger,
among the dumb animals devoted to domestic use, is an enduring proof of
pure democracy, or of nobility in that which is lowly. If, however, the
manger were, henceforth, to be regarded as alone holy, or the forms and
surroundings of popular life be accepted as the only abode of the
eternal spirit, or the embodiment of holy nature itself, it would be a
perversion of truth, a new orthodoxy, another schism. This much always
remains; the spirit of truth appears everywhere--in the manger and in
the pillared temple, in the library of the student and on the royal
throne in the glittering palace. Buddha, who was one of the greatest
benefactors and regenerators of mankind, and who, in the realm of
caste, maintained the equality of human rights, was the son of a king.
"And now to return to the question. Whenever a form of civilization has
attained its highest development and begins to show its defects, the
idea of complete revolution suggests itself. None but violent methods
are thought of, and, while the only object to be gained is the bringing
about of regeneration, by means of strata which have not yet been
exhausted, and which bring new strength to bear, it is deemed necessary
to go back to the beginning of all things. But the lower strata cannot,
of themselves, effect this regeneration. What is required of them is to
be constantly sending fresh strength to those above them. The great
masses, considered as such, cannot renew civilization. All that they
can do is to furnish new material. It is only in a limited sense that
the masses are the bearers of the spirit of the people. Individual men,
who have ever preserved their childlike simplicity of soul, just as
they received it from nature, and through subsequent development have
retained it unimpaired, will now and then rise from among the masses.
But the scientific spirit must be united with this childlike feeling,
and then an epoch, or an individual, forms a node by which this
development is not interrupted but from which it seems to take a new
start, forming, as it were, a new growth on the old stem. It is not the
people, as a mass, but a certain man or circle that concentrates the
spirit of the people within itself, and renews the same individually."
"Is not that aristocracy?" asked the king, in a soft, almost hesitating
voice.
"Your Majesty, I dread no term or idea that seems to be the result of
logical consistency. Call it an aristocracy, if you will, but it is a
democratic one, ever renewing itself. For those who, from generation to
generation, represent the spirit of the people, are not taken from the
same sphere."
"I understand," said the king, stopping in front of a rosebush. "It is
just as here, where every year brings forth new shoots that bear the
roses. But pardon me, I interrupted you!"
"I have only to add," said Gunther, "that while the masses, considered
as such, are the bearers of civilization, the highest development of
this civilization is brought about by the few who are called and chosen
for the task. To make my meaning clearer: He who is of average size, is
not tall, and he who possesses general culture has naught that
distinguishes or elevates him above the rest."
"But who measures and passes upon such claims to such distinction?"
asked the king.
"In science and art, it is the sense of being called to do certain
things, the individual impulse and energy that give shape to ideas
which others have only imperfectly conceived, and which, when they have
once found utterance, the masses gladly accept as their own. In state
affairs, this call is conveyed by means of elections, which have never
before obtained to the same extent as at present. It is of great
advantage that the occasional call to vote is opposed, or rather, held
in check, by the call which is founded on historic claims. But,
whenever the latter fails to be at one with the former, it mistakes its
strength, and at last falls."
The king walked on in silence, his eyes bent on the ground. Everything
tended to prove that there is a united mind, or totality of thought,
which is and must be more powerful than any individual mind. There was
no longer the faintest suspicion that this conclusion was the result of
an idle question.
Although the king walked on in silence, the break in the conversation
was not caused by an unresolved dissonance, jarring his soul's depths.
He was lost in thought, for he had learned how to make a new truth his
own by reflection, instead of dismissing it with light and trifling
conversation.
"May I ask," said the king, in a voice that betokened great
diffidence--"may I ask whether the views which you have just imparted
to me, and which have furnished me with much food for future thought,
are to be more fully expounded in the work on which you are now
employed?"
"Certainly, Your Majesty."
"Then allow me, at once, to pass to a question that concerns our little
life and that portion of history which we are to help make."
The king folded his arms and continued:
"Let me be frank with you. You have refused the position of Minister of
Education offered you by Minister Bronnen. I can well imagine that you
do not care to sacrifice science to the labors of a bureau. Would you
perhaps prefer--excuse me," said the king, with an unconstrained
smile, "excuse me for using your favorite expression, I did it quite
unawares--might I offer you the position of President of the Academy?"
"I humbly request Your Majesty not to consider me as ungrateful, but I
have determined never again to enter the busy world. Besides that--Your
Majesty knows that I have no false modesty--I frankly acknowledge that
my long continued attention to work of a practical nature has, to so
great an extent, prevented me from keeping up my scientific studies,
that I could not do justice to the position so graciously offered me. I
beg Your Majesty to permit me to spend the rest of my life in
retirement. I have become an author and desire to remain one."
"I should willingly accord you perfect liberty to express your
sentiments regardless of consequences."
"I know that very well, Your Majesty, and at once avail myself of it by
telling you that liberty which is accorded us is not perfect liberty.
In any elevated position under the state, I would be obliged to respect
Your Majesty's wishes and also to have regard to my son's position. I
entreat you, therefore, to permit me to be an author and remain one;
nothing more."
The king's features betrayed his displeasure. He had done his utmost,
had shown by deeds how glad he would be to repair the effects of his
former hasty conduct, and here again he was met by the obstinacy he had
so often encountered. Did the man expect to hear the king say: "I
repent; pardon me?"
An angry reply rose to the king's lips, but he checked himself. Gunther
quickly saw what was going on, and esteem for the changed being who was
now standing before him, made his eye glisten.
The king had not once mentioned the queen's name. He had not, as would
have been so natural, asked him who had been her physician for many
years, what he thought of her appearance. Gunther was just on the point
of mentioning her, when the king, contracting his brows, asked:
"Have you ever committed an act which you repented of?"
"Your Majesty--my name is Wilhelm Gunther. My life has been a hard
struggle and I have often stumbled. I have been young and have grown
old, and have come to see that all men receive their true deserts."
"And has it proven so in your case?"
"Yes, Your Majesty, I thank you for asking me that question. And now
let me confess.--What I am about to say is without the slightest tinge
of bitterness. When I regard a fact as accomplished, I have done with
it. I therefore speak of it without embarrassment, just as if I were
explaining the operation of some law of nature. Yes, Your Majesty, I
have richly deserved all that has happened to me. I was most graciously
dismissed from Your Majesty's favor, and it was but just that it should
be so."
"That was not what I meant I had no desire to allude to it. On the
contrary--"
"Permit me, Your Majesty, to explain the logical line of justice as I
have understood it. Under deeply painful circumstances, I misconceived
my duty as a man, as the friend and servant of Your Majesty."
"You?" asked the king.
"Yes, I! And that I meant it for the best, is no excuse. We all mean to
be good, but we have all of us an equal right to be wise. I endeavored
to lead the queen to an elevated plain, from which the petty events of
life would appear trifling and easily borne. It was a grievous error.
It was my duty to avoid all interference, unless I could avert the
impending conflict. You acted rightly and, at the same time, benefited
the queen by sending me away. Isolated from every influence, even that
of a friend, she could not but gain strength as she has done."
A tear glistened in the king's eyes. He pressed his left hand to his
heart, as if to repress a thought that he did not care to reveal.
"I am happy," said he at last, "that my life has made me acquainted
with such men as you and our dear Bronnen. We only partially make
ourselves what we are. Consciously or unconsciously, we are formed by
those with whom we associate."
He pressed Gunther's hand in his, and Gunther was happy to feel that
the king's heroic self-glorification was completely subdued--the king's
confession being a convincing proof of this.
"Papa!" called a boy's voice from the terrace, "papa!"
They turned in the direction from which the voice had come. The queen,
surrounded by the ladies and gentlemen of her court, was sitting on the
terrace. With anxious eyes, she had followed every movement of the two
men. What might they be speaking of? Were these Elysian days to be
disturbed by the old and unforgotten wrong?
And now, when she saw the king take Gunther's hand in his own and hold
it for a long while, she embraced the prince, kissed him, and then
said:
"Call papa."
The two men turned around and with calm and happy countenances, the
sight of which was even more refreshing than that of the beautiful and
lofty mountains, came upon the terrace. The king kissed the queen's
hand, and, for the first time in years, she pressed it against his
lips.
When Gunther was taking his leave, the king said:
"Present my compliments to your wife. I shall pay you a visit to-day,
before dinner."
Madame Gunther was amazed when her husband informed her that the king
was coming. In spite of all explanations, she could not understand how
her husband could thus forgive and forget the injury that had been put
upon him--for she could not help looking upon it as an injury and an
affront, even though Gunther did not so regard it. For the first time
in her life, he was unable to change her opinion. In Gunther's
forgiving mood, she thought she detected a spirit of submissiveness
which was only possible under a monarchy. Her old republican feelings
were aroused.
The king and the queen came. The king found Madame Gunther's behavior
shy and reserved. He could not know that she still regarded him with
suppressed wrath. Was this the man, and ought there really to be one on
earth, who could appoint or dismiss Gunther at will? They were standing
by the stream that flowed through the garden, when the king said to
Gunther:
"I am told that the crown prince's nurse lives in this neighborhood.
Will you not have her come here some time?"
"Her majesty the queen does not wish to see her," replied Gunther.
"Do you know why?"
"It lies in the echo of certain sad memories," replied Gunther; and
this passing allusion to Irma was the only time she was mentioned. In
the short pause that followed these words, the stream murmured louder
than before, as if it, too, had something to say.
On the second evening after the king's arrival, Bronnen came,
accompanied by the intendant, and found the whole circle happy and
complete.
A certain observance of form lent an added charm to country life. With
constant freedom, there was yet the protecting presence of the
accompanying court circle and servants. Wherever they fixed their
resting-place, and wherever they lighted a fire in the forest, for the
little prince's amusement, a numerous body of servants was always
present, forming a ring to keep off intruding strangers. Paula's manner
was calm and composed. Her every movement evinced power and grace. She
neither thrust herself forward nor shunned observation. The knowledge
that she was in her own home lent charming confidence to her
deportment.
During the evening, Gunther's blind nephew, whose appointment as
pianist to the queen had been confirmed, played in a masterly manner.
On the following morning he took his first leave of absence, in order,
as he said with a smile, to look about the neighborhood and visit old
acquaintances.
The king prepared to go hunting.