I
"Théodore," said Professor Wittembach, "please give me that
manuscript-book, bound in parchment, which is laid on the second shelf
above my writing-desk--no, not that one, but the small octavo volume. I
copied all the notes of my journal of 1866 in it--at least those that
relate to Count Szémioth."
The Professor put on his glasses, and, amid profound silence, read the
following:--
"LOKIS,"
with this Lithuanian proverb as a motto:
"Miszka su Lokiu,
Abu du tokiu."[1]
When the first translation of the Holy Scriptures into the Lithuanian
language appeared in London, I published in the _Scientific and Literary
Gazette_ of Koenigsberg, an article wherein, while rendering full
justice to the efforts of the learned interpreter and to the pious
motives of the Bible Society, I pointed out several slight errors, and
showed, moreover, that this version could only be useful to one portion
of the Lithuanian people.
Indeed, the dialect from which they translated is hardly intelligible to
the inhabitants of the districts where the _Jomaïtic_ tongue, commonly
called _Jmoude,_ is spoken, namely, in the Palatinate of Samogitia. This
language is, perhaps, nearer akin to the Sanskrit than to High
Lithuanian. In spite of the furious criticisms which this observation
drew down upon me from a certain well-known professor of the Dorpat
University, it so far enlightened the members of the Committee of the
Bible Society that they lost no time in making me a flattering offer to
direct and supervise an edition of the Gospel of St. Matthew into
Samogitian. I was too much occupied at the time with my researches in
Trans-Uralian dialects to undertake a more extended work comprising all
four of the Gospels. Deferring my marriage with Mlle. Gertrude Weber, I
went to Kowno (_Kaunas_) for the purpose of collecting all the
linguistic records, whether printed or in MSS., of Jmoude, that I could
lay hands on. I did not overlook, of course, old ballads (_daïnos_),
tales, or legends (_pasakos_) which would furnish me with material for a
Jomaïtic vocabulary, a work which must necessarily precede that of
translation.
I had been given a letter of introduction to the young Count Michel
Szémioth, whose father, I was told, had come into the possession of the
famous _Catechismus Samogiticus_ of Father Lawiçki. It was so rare that
its very existence had been disputed, particularly by the Dorpat
professor to whom allusion has been already made. In his library I
should find, according to the information given me, an old collection of
_daïnos_, besides ballads in old Prussian. Having written to Count
Szémioth to lay the object of my visit before him, I received a most
courteous invitation to spend as much time at his Castle of Médintiltas
as my researches might need. He ended his letter by very gracefully
saying that he prided himself upon speaking Jmoude almost as well as his
peasants, and would be only too pleased to help me in what he termed so
important and interesting an undertaking. Besides being one of the
wealthiest landowners in Lithuania, he was of the same evangelical faith
of which I had the honour to be a minister. I had been warned that the
Count was not without a certain peculiarity of character, but he was
very hospitable, especially towards all who had intellectual tastes. So
I set out on my journey to Médintiltas.
At the Castle steps I was met by the Count's steward, who immediately
led me to the rooms prepared for me.
"M. le Comte," he said, "is most sorry not to be able to dine with you
to-day. He has a bad headache, a malady he is unfortunately subject to.
If you do not prefer to dine in your room you can dine with the
Countess's doctor, Dr. Froeber. Dinner will be ready in an hour; do not
trouble to dress for it. If you have any orders to give, there is the
bell."
He withdrew, making me a profound salute.
The room was of immense size, comfortably furnished, and decorated with
mirrors and gilding. One side of it looked out upon a garden, or rather
the park belonging to the Castle, and the other upon the principal
entrance. Notwithstanding the statement that there was no need to dress,
I felt obliged to get my black coat out of my trunk, and was in my
shirt-sleeves busy unpacking my simple luggage when the sound of
carriage wheels attracted me to the window which looked on the court. A
handsome barouche had just come in. It contained a lady in black, a
gentleman, and a woman dressed in the Lithuanian peasant costume, but so
tall and strong-looking that at first I took her for a man in disguise.
She stepped out first; two other women, not less robust in appearance,
were already standing on the steps. The gentleman leant over the lady
dressed in black, and, to my great surprise, unbuckled a broad leather
belt which held her to her seat in the carriage. I noticed that this
lady had long white hair, very much dishevelled, and that her large,
wide-opened eyes were vacant in expression. She looked like a waxen
figure. After having untied her, her companion spoke to her very
respectfully, hat in hand; but she appeared not to pay the slightest
attention to him. He then turned to the servants and made a slight sign
with his head. Immediately the three women took hold of the lady in
black, lifted her out as though she were a feather, and carried her into
the Castle, in spite of her efforts to cling to the carriage. The scene
was witnessed by several of the house servants, who did not appear to
think it anything extraordinary.
The gentleman who had directed the proceedings drew out his watch, and
asked how soon dinner would be ready.
"In a quarter of an hour, doctor," was the reply.
I guessed at once that this was Dr. Froeber, and that the lady in black
was the Countess. From her age I concluded she was the mother of Count
Szémioth, and the precautionary measures taken concerning her told me
clearly enough that her reason was affected.
Some moments later the doctor himself came to my room.
"As the Count is indisposed," he said to me, "I must introduce myself to
you. I am Dr. Froeber, at your service, and I am delighted to make the
acquaintance of a savant known to all readers of the _Scientific and
Literary Gazette_ of Koenigsberg. Have you been properly waited on?"
I replied to his compliments as well as I could, and told him that if it
was time to go down to dinner I was ready to accompany him.
When we were in the dining-hall, a major-domo brought us liqueurs and
several piquant and highly spiced dishes on a silver salver to induce
appetite, after a northern custom.
"Allow me, sir, in my office as doctor, to recommend a glass of that
_Starka_, a true Cognac brandy casked forty years ago. It is a queen of
liqueurs. Take a Drontheim anchovy; nothing is better for opening and
preparing the digestive organs, the most important functions of the
body.... And now to table. Why do we not speak in German? You come from
Koenigsberg, I from Memel; but I took my degree at Jéna. We shall be
more at ease in that way, and the servants, who only know Polish and
Russian, will not understand us."
We ate at first in silence; then, after having taken our first glass of
Madeira, I inquired of the doctor if the Count were often inconvenienced
by the indisposition which deprived us of his presence that night.
"Yes and no," was the doctor's answer. "It depends upon what expeditions
he takes."
"How so?"
"When he takes the road to Rosienie, for instance, he comes back with
headache, and in a savage temper."
"I have been to Rosienie myself without such an experience."
"It depends, Professor," he replied, laughing, "on whether you are in
love."