Why do we all refer to the period of boyhood as one of happiness? It
is not that it had not its own sorrows, nor that they were really so
light,--it is simply because it was the season of hope. In after-life,
as deception after deception has checked us, when disappointment has
dulled expectancy, we become more practical, less dreamy, and, alas!
less happy. The possible and the probable of youth are not the possible
and the probable of manhood, still less those of riper age. The realms
of boyish fancy are as wide as the great ocean; and we revel in them in
all the plenitude of unrestricted power. There is not a budding effort
of intellect that we do not magnify to ourselves as the origin of future
distinction. We exalt our feats of strength and courage into deeds of
heroic daring; and we fancy that the little struggles and crosses we
meet with are like the great trials and reverses of after-life; and in
our pride of success, we deem ourselves conquerors. Oh for one day, for
even one short hour, of that time of glorious delusions! Oh that I
could once more look out upon the world as one gazes at a sunset at
sea, wondering what beauteous lands lie afar off in the distance, and
imagining the time when we should be journeying towards them, buoyant,
high-hearted, hopeful! Who has ever achieved any success that equalled
his boyish ambitions? Who has ever been as great or as good as his early
visions have pictured him?
I have already told my reader that my youth was not passed in affluence.
Our means were limited to the very merest requirements of existence; our
food and our clothing were humble as our dwelling; and I believe that
many a sore privation was needed to escape the calamity of debt. Of all
these hardships I knew nothing at the time; my experience pointed out
none who seemed to possess an existence happy as my own. I had all that
unvarying affection and devoted love could bestow. My little turret
in winter, the fields and the mountains in summer, made up a glorious
world, full of interest; and the days seemed never long enough for all
my plans of pleasure.
I had no companions of my own age, nor did I feel the want of them; for
when my school hours were over I was free to follow the caprices of
my own fancy. There was in my isolation a sort of independence that
I gloried in. To be alone with my own day-dreams--my own ambitious
hopes--my own high-soaring thoughts--was an ecstasy of delight that I
would not have exchanged for any companionship. The very indulgence
of these humors soon rendered me unsuited for association with others,
whose ideas and habits appeared to me to be all vain, and trifling, and
contemptible. The books of travel and discovery which I loved to read,
had filled my mind with those stories of adventure which attend the
explorer of unknown lands,--the wonders of scenery, and the strange
pictures of life and people. There was in the career itself that
blending of heroism and philanthropy, that mingled courage and humanity,
which appealed to my heart by its very strongest sympathies; and I felt
for these noble and devoted adventurers not less admiration than love.
All my solitary rambles through the wild valleys of the neighborhood,
all my lonely walks over mountains, were in imitation of these
wanderers, whose hardships I envied, and whose perils I longed to share.
Not a rugged crag nor snow-capped summit that I did not name after some
far-away land; and every brook and rippling stream became to me the
Nile, the Euphrates, or the Ganges. The desolate character of the
scenery amidst which we lived, the wide tracts of uninhabited country,
favored these illusions; and for whole days long not an incident would
occur to break the spell which fancy had thrown around me.
My kind mother--for so Polly always taught me to call her--seemed to
take delight in favoring these self-delusions of mine, and fell readily
into all my caprices about locality.
She made me, too, with her own hands, a little knapsack to wear; bought
me an iron-shod staff such as Alpine travellers carry; and made me keep
a kind of journal of these wanderings, noting down all my accidents and
adventures, and recording even the feelings which beset me when afar
off and alone in the mountains. So intent did I become at last on these
imaginings that the actual life of school and its duties grew to seem
visionary and unreal, and my true existence to be that when wandering
through the lonely valleys of the Alps, or sitting in solitude in some
far-away gorge of the mountains.
As I grew older I pushed my journeys further, and carried my explorings
to the very foot of the Splugen, through that dreariest of all mountain
passes, the “Verlohrnes Loch.” The savage grandeur of this desolate
spot, its gloom, its solitude, its utter desertion, its almost
uninhabitable character, gave it a peculiar attraction in my eyes, for
there nothing ever occurred to dispel the colorings of my imagination.
There I revelled at will amidst the wildest flights of my fancy. An old
castle, one of the many feudal remains of this tract of country, stood
upon a lone crag to the centre of the valley. It seemed as if Nature
herself had destined the rock for such a structure, for while there was
barely space sufficient at the top, the approach lay by a zig-zag: path,
rugged and dangerous, cut in the solid granite. When I first saw this
rude old tower, the melting snows of early summer had flooded a small
rivulet at the base of the crag, and the stream, being divided in its
course against the rock, swept along on either side, leaving the castle,
as it were, on an island.
I had long resolved to scale this cliff, the view from the summit of
which I knew would be magnificent, extending for miles both up and down
the valley; and at last, took advantage of my first holiday from school
to accomplish my purpose. The Forlorn Glen, as the translation of the
name would imply, lay about thirteen miles away by taking the mountain
paths, though its distance by road was more than double, and to go
and return in the same day required an early start. I set out before
daybreak, having packed my knapsack with food to last me while I should
be away.
I never remember to have felt a greater degree of exhilaration than as I
set forth that morning. It was in the month of June, that season of all
others the most beautiful in Alpine scenery, since it combines all
the charms of spring with the balmy air and more genial atmosphere of
summer. The cherry-trees were all in blossom in the glens, and the rich
pink of the apricot peeped out from many a little grove. I went along,
happy and light-hearted, passing many a spot to which I had given some
name of a far-away scene, and recognizing places which once had been
to me the utmost limits of my wanderings. So, thought I, shall it be
in after-life, and we can look back upon efforts that we once deemed
stupendous, and regard them as mere tiny steps in the great steep we are
climbing.
I breakfasted at a little waterfall in the midst of the wildest
mountain, not a sound save the plashing waters to break the stillness;
the birds gathered round me for the crumbs of my meal, and ate them
within a few paces of where I sat. There was something that I felt as
indescribably touching, in the trustfulness of the humbler creation, in
scenes deserted and forsaken of men; and musing on the theme, I arose
and pursued my way.
When I reached the Verlohrnes Loch it was still early, and I was
delighted to find that the stream at the foot of the castle rock was
dwindled down to a mere rivulet, and fordable with ease. I crossed, and
at once began the ascent of the crag. Before I had spent half an hour at
my task, however, I found that its difficulties were far greater than
I had anticipated. The path was often interrupted by masses of fallen
rock, and frequently, from long disuse, difficult to hit upon when once
lost. Brambles and prickly pears, too, formed terrible obstacles at some
places, while at others the rocks were rendered slippery by dripping
water, and the danger of a false step was very great. In no wise
discouraged, I struggled on; but to my astonishment I could perceive
that it was wearing nigh to noon before I had accomplished more than
half the ascent. I had therefore to take counsel with myself whether I
should abandon my enterprise at once, or resolve to pass the night on
the crag, for I readily saw that before I could reach the level plain
again it would be too late to resume my homeward road over the mountain,
many parts of which required daylight to traverse. Although I had never
passed a night away from home, I had often told my mother that I should
probably be led to do so, and that she should not feel any alarm at
my absence; and she, who well knew the honest character of the
mountaineers, also knew that I was known to them for miles far around.
My resolve was at length taken to pass the night in the shelter of the
old castle, and take the following morning for my return.
As the day wore on, the heat grew more and more oppressive; occasional
gusts of wind would sweep past, followed by a dead, unbroken stillness,
in which not a leaf moved. It seemed as though mysterious spirits of the
elemental world were conversing together in this lone region, and the
thought impressed me more powerfully as at intervals a low, half-subdued
murmuring seemed to rise from the deep glens around me. At first I
deemed they were self-delusions; but as I listened I could distinctly
trace the sounds as they rose and fell, swelling now to a deep rolling
noise, and then dying away in soft fading cadences.
My mind was stored with stories of supernatural interest, and if I did
not implicitly believe the existence of such agencies, yet I cannot
affirm that I altogether rejected them. I was in that state in which,
while reason is unconvinced, the imagination is still impressed, and
fears and terrors hold sway, when the very causes of them were stoutly
denied reality. One of the commonest of all the superstitions of
mountain regions is the belief in a certain genius who invariably
resists the intrusion of mortals within the precincts of his realm. The
terrible tales of his vengeance form the subject of Alpine horrors, and
the dreadful miseries of those who have incurred his displeasure point
the moral of many a story, and “the Kobold of the Lost Glen” held a
proud pre-eminence among such narratives. The heat, as I have said, grew
oppressive; it became at last almost stifling, for the clouds descended
near the earth, and the atmosphere became dense and suffocating. A
few heavy drops of rain then fell, pattering slowly and lazily on the
leaves; and then, as if at the word of some dread command, the thunder
rolled forth in one long, loud, continuous peal that seemed to shake the
very mountains. Crash after crash followed, till the very rocks seemed
splitting with the loud artillery, while through the darkness of the
murky air great sheets of yellow lightning gleamed, and long chains of
the bright element zig-zagged through the sky; the rain, too, began to
fall in torrents, and almost at once the mountain streams swelled
and bounded in foamy cataracts from cliff and precipice. The din was
deafening; and the loud crashing thunder with the hissing rain, the
rushing rivers, and the dense shaking forests made up a grand and awful
chorus. For a while I found a shelter beneath the thick foliage of the
hollies, but the sweeping wind at last rent this frail sanctuary in
twain, and in a moment I was drenched thoroughly.
Although still early in the afternoon, a premature night seemed to have
set in, for the air grew darker and darker, till at length the mountains
at either side of the glen were lost to sight, and a dense watery vapor
surrounded the crag on which I stood. My position was not without peril,
since if the waters did not abate at the end of some hours, I should be
left to starve on the rock. This danger at once occurred to me, and my
mind was already overcome by gloomy forebodings. One thing was, however,
certain,--I must endeavor to reach the castle before nightfall; for to
pass the dark hours where I was would be impossible. The difficulty of
the ascent was now increased fourfold; the footing was less secure on
the rocks, and dashing torrents tore past with a force that strength
like mine could never have combated. It is with pride that I remember to
have looked all those perils boldly in the face; it is, I say, a proud
thought to me, even now, that as a mere boy I could meet danger boldly
and undauntedly. More than once, indeed, the fatal terrors of my
position stood arrayed before me, and I thought that I had seen my dear
home and my kind mother for the last time; I could even speculate
upon poor Raper's affliction when he came to hear of my calamity. With
thoughts like these I wended my way along, ever upwards and ever more
steep and difficult. Although the storm had spent much of its fury, the
rain continued to fall in torrents, and the roar of the swollen
streams almost equalled the deafening clamor of the thunder. The sudden
transition from unbroken silence to the crash and tumult of falling
waters is one of the most striking features of Alpine scenery, and
suggests, even at moments of the greatest calm and quiet, a sense of
foreboding peril. The sudden change of temperature, too, from intense
heat to an almost biting cold, induces terrific storms of wind, almost
tornadoes, by whose violence great trees are torn up by the roots, and
vast rocks hurled down from crag and precipice. In turning the angle
of a cliff, I came suddenly upon one of these gusts, which carried me
completely off my legs, and swept me into a low copse of brushwood,
stunned and senseless. I must have remained a considerable time
unconscious, for when I came to myself the stars were shining in the
dark blue sky of night, and the air calm, serene, and summer-like. It
was with difficulty I could remember where I was, and by what chances I
had come there; and it was indeed with a sinking heart that I arose, not
knowing whither to turn my steps, nor whether my chance of safety lay
above or below me.
I was sorely bruised besides, and one of my arms severely injured by
my fall, as I discovered in attempting to use my staff. It was at that
moment, thoughts of my home came full and forcibly before me; the little
chamber where I used to sit for hours in happy occupation; my seat
beside the hearth; my place at my mother's wheel, for she used to spin
during the hazy days of winter; and, in my despair, I burst into a flood
of tears. The excess of grief passed off, and there now succeeded a
dogged resolve to accomplish my first purpose, and I again set out for
the summit.
I had not proceeded far, when on looking upward towards the sky I saw,
or thought I saw, a light twinkling through the trees above me. The
foliage was dense and thick, and grew around the base of the rock which
formed the immediate foundation of the castle, so that it was only at
certain spots a light, if such there was, could be visible. Onward I
pushed now, with a new impulse given by hope; and to my inexpressible
joy, as I rounded the corner of a crag, I came full in sight of the old
tower, and saw, from one of the narrow windows, the sparkle of a bright
light that, streaming forth, formed a long line upon the grass.
The window was fully twenty feet from the ground, nor was the entrance
door more than a few feet lower,--being one of those fastnesses to which
access was had by a ladder, drawn up for safety after entering. Many
of these ruined castles in the valley of the Reichenau were, I
knew, occupied by the shepherds; some indeed had been converted into
refuge-houses for lost travellers, and supplied by the government of the
canton with some few appliances of succor. The situation of this one,
however, refuted all such possibility, since its very difficulty of
approach would have rendered it unavailable for either purpose. As I
stood on the little level tableland in front of the old ruin, and gazed
upwards at the narrow window from which gleamed the light, all my former
superstitious terrors returned, and I felt that cold shrinking of the
heart that comes of a danger undefined and incomprehensible; nor am
I certain that I would not rather have looked upon the ruin dark and
desolate, than with that yellow streak that told of some inhabitant
within.
The northern side of the Alpine ranges have few, if any, traditions of
robbers. The horrors with which they are peopled are all those of an
immaterial world, so that my mind ranged over the tales of wood-demons,
Kobolds, and mountain imps, without one single thought of the perils
of banditti; nor was I altogether without a strong prompting of eager
curiosity to know what precise shape and semblance these strange
creatures wore. Thus impelled, I set about examining the spot, and
seeing in what way I might be able to approach the window. The trees on
either side were too low, and the ivy which grew against the ruined wall
itself offered the only means of ascent. I was an expert climber, and
well knew that, though the ivy will often afford good and safe footing,
it will always give way beneath the grasp of the hand, and that the
stones of the wall would afford me the only security. In this wise it
was, therefore, I began the ascent, and, with slow and careful steps, I
arrived at last within a few feet of the window-sill. My impatience at
this moment overcame all my prudence, and, with an eager spring, I tried
to catch the stone. I missed it, and grasping the ivy in my despair, the
branches gave way, and, after a brief struggle, and with a loud cry of
terror, I fell backwards to the ground.
The stars seemed to flit to and fro above me; trees, mountains, and
rocks seemed to heave in mad commotion around; my brain was filled
with the wildest images of peril and suffering; and then came blank
unconsciousness.
I was sitting rather than lying on a low pallet-bed stretched
against the wall; in front of me a window curtained with a worn
horseman's cloak; and around me in the room, which was lofty and
spacious, were a few rudely fashioned articles of furniture, and two or
three utensils for cooking,--all of the very meanest kind. My arm was
bound with a bandage where I had been bled, and my great debility, and a
sense of half-incoherence in all my thoughts, told of severe illness. At
a table beneath the window, and bent over it as if writing, sat a tall,
very old man, in a coarse woollen blouse of red-brown stuff, with a cap
of the same color and material; sandals, fastened round the ankles with
leather thongs, formed the protection of his feet; these, and a belt
with a gourd for carrying water attached to it, made up his whole
costume.
His face, when he seemed to look towards me, was harshly lined and
severe; the lower jaw projected greatly, and the character of the whole
expression was cold and stern: but the head was lofty and capacious, and
indicated considerable powers of thought and reflection.
There was over me a sense of weakness so oppressive and so overwhelming
that though I saw the objects I have here mentioned, and gazed on them
for hours long, yet I made no effort to speak, nor ask where I was, nor
to whom I was indebted for shelter and succor. This apathy--for it was,
indeed, such--held me entranced, even when the old man would approach
the bed to feel my pulse, to bathe my temples with water, or wet my
lips with a drink. After these visits he would take his staff from the
corner, and leave the room, to which he frequently did not return for
many hours. Thus went day after day, monotony over everything, till my
head ached with very weariness, as the lazy hours went by. Where was I?
Was this a state of suffering malady? Or was it imprisonment? Why was
I thus? How long should I still continue so? Such were the puzzling
questions which would present themselves before me,--never to be
solved--never replied to.
In my dreamy debility, when my faculties tottered like wearied limbs,
I often wondered if I might not have entered upon some new kind of
existence, in which long years of such wakeful sorrow should be gone
through; and in a mood like this was it that I lay one day all alone,
when from the open window there came the thrilling notes of a
blackbird which sat ou a tree close by. Not even the kindest words of a
fellow-creature could have filled my heart with more ecstasy than those
sounds reminding me of my once happy life, my home, the little garden of
the château, and its tangled alleys of fruit-trees and flowering shrubs.
I struggled to arise from my bed, and after some efforts I succeeded,
and with weak step and trembling limbs I reached the window and looked
out.
Sudden as the change from blackest night to the light of breaking
day was the effect that came over me as I gazed down the valley, and
recognized each well-known crag, and cliff, and mountain peak of the
Verlohrnes Loch. At once now came back all memory of my adventure and
the night of the storm; and at once I saw that I was standing at the
window of that old ruin which had been the goal of my wandering.
How I longed to learn what interval of time had gone over! I tried to
calculate it by remembering that it was early summer when I came, but
still the trees wore no tokens of coming autumn. They were bright in
foliage, and leafy, and the streams that traversed the valley were small
and tiny rills that showed no touch of the season of rains. From these
observations I now addressed myself to an inspection of the interior.
Well used as I had been to habits of poverty, the aspect of this chamber
still struck me with astonishment. The only thing like food was some
Indian cornmeal carefully covered up in an iron vessel, and a jar of
water; of clothing, the cloak which formed the window-curtain, and a
sheepskin fashioned into a rude resemblance to a coat, were all that
were to be seen. The furniture consisted of a low stool and a single
chair, the trunk of an elm-tree representing a table. On this, however,
an attempt at a desk had been made, and here, to my astonishment, were
now masses of papers covered with figures from top to bottom,--algebraic
signs and calculations without end! Not one word of writing, not a
phrase in any language, was to be met with, but page after page of these
mystical sums, which seemed to be carried on from one sheet of paper to
the other. How eagerly I sought out something which might give me a clew
to the writer of these figures, but in vain; I pored over them long
and carefully, I studied their form and their size. I tried--how
hopelessly!--to trace out some purpose in the calculations, and to
divine their object and end; but to no avail! I had heard tell of
persons whose intellects had been deranged by the intense study of a
difficult problem, the search after some unattainable object in science.
I had read wonderful stories of long years of toilsome labor,--whole
lives passed in an arduous struggle, till death had at last relieved
them from a contest with the “impossible.” Could the writer of these be
the victim of such a delusion? Might he have sought out this lone spot,
to live apart and away from all the distracting influences of life, and
to devote himself to some such task? Had his mind given way under this
pressure, or had weakened faculties first led to this career? All these
doubts presented themselves to me in turns; and again I turned to the
complex pages of figures to assist my conjectures.
Alas! they could convey nothing to me,--they were symbols only of so
much toil and labor, but to what end or object I could not guess. As I
sat thus, I thought that I detected an error in one of the calculations.
It was an algebraic quantity misstated; and, on looking down, I remarked
that the mistake was repeated over and over, through a long series of
figures. Any proficiency I had ever attained at school was in matters
of this kind, owing, as I did, everything to Raper's guidance and
instruction; so that I found little difficulty in ascertaining that
this error had really occurred, and in all likelihood marred all the
deductions to be hoped from the calculation.
To escape from the dreamy vacuity of my late life, by an actual
occupation, was an unspeakable relief; and I felt in the pursuit all the
interest of an adventurer. There was something positive, tangible, real,
as it were, here, instead of that boundless expanse of doubt over which
my mind had been wandering, and I addressed myself to the task
with eagerness. The error first discovered had led to others, and I
diligently traced out all its consequences; and making the fitting
corrections, I set forth the results on a slip of paper that I found,
happily, clear of figures.
So tired was I with the unaccustomed exertion that, when I had done, I
had barely reached my bed ere I fell off in a deep and heavy sleep. I
awoke late in the night, for so I judged it from the starry sky which
I could see through the open window. The old man sat at his usual seat
beside the desk, and, with his head supported by his hands, seemed to
study the pages before him. The flickering lamplight that fell upon
his worn features, his snow-white beard, his wrinkled forehead and
thick-veined hands, together with the heavy folds of the cloak which,
for warmth, he had thrown over his shoulders, made him resemble one
of those alchemists or astrologers we see in Dutch pictures. I had not
looked long at him till I saw that he was pondering over the corrections
I had made, and trying to remember if they were by his own hand. At last
he turned suddenly round, and fixed his eyes on me. Mine met the glance,
and thus we remained for some seconds staring steadily at each other. He
then rose slowly like one fatigued from exertion, and, with the paper in
his hand, approached the bed. How my heart beat as he drew nigh! how I
wondered what words he would utter, what accents he would speak in, and
in what mood of mind!
He came slowly forward, and, seating himself beside my bed on the low
stool, he pointed to the figures on the paper, and said, in the Romaic
dialect of the mountaineers, the one word, “Yours?” Though the word was
uttered in the peasant dialect, the tone of the voice was not that of
a “Bauer;” and, reassured by thinking that he might be of superior
condition, I answered him at once in French.
“Is that your native tongue?” said he, replying to me in the same
language.
I shook my head in negative.
“You are a German boy, then?” said he.
“Nor that either,” replied I. “I am English.”
“English! you English, and in this place!” cried he, in astonishment.
“From what part of England do you come?” said he, in English, which he
spoke as a native.
“I came from Ireland. My father was of that country. My mother, I have
heard, was French.”
“You have heard! So that you do not know it of yourself?”
“I never remember to have seen either of them.”
“Your name?”
“Carew--Jasper Carew.”
“I recollect one of that name,” said he, pondering for some time. “But
he could not have been your father. And how came you here?”
In a few words I told him of my adventure, and in doing so revealed such
habits as appeared to interest him, for he questioned me closely about
my wanderings, and the causes which at first suggested them. In turn
I asked and learned from him that several weeks had elapsed since my
accident; that numerous scouts had traversed the glen, evidently sent
in search of me, but that for reasons which regarded himself he had
not spoken with, nor, indeed, been seen by any of them, but still
had written a few lines to the Curé of Reichenau to say that I was in
safety, and should be soon restored to my friends. This he had conveyed
to the post by night, but without suffering any clew to escape from
whence it came.
“And these figures are yours?” said he, referring to the paper.
I nodded, and he went on:--
“What toilsome nights, boy, had I been spared if I had but detected this
error! These mistakes have marred whole weeks of labor. I must have been
ill. My head must have been suffering, to have fallen into error like
this; for see, here are far deeper and more abstruse calculations,--all
correct, all accurate. But who can answer for moments of weakness!”
He sighed heavily, and the stern expression of his features assumed a
look of softened, but suffering meaning.
“I have often thought,” said he, hastily, “that if another were joined
with me in this task, its completeness would be more certain; while to
trust myself alone with this secret is both unwise and unjust. Human
life is the least certain of all things. To-morrow I may be no more. I
have already passed through enough to have brought many to the grave.
You, however, are young. You have yet, in all likelihood, long years of
life before you. What if you were to become my associate?”
I gave no reply for some seconds. When he repeated his words still more
forcibly,--
“I should first learn what it is I should be engaged in,” said I. “I
should be satisfied that the object was just, reasonable, and, above
all, practicable.”
“You speak like a sage, boy,” cried he. “Whence came such wisdom as
this?”
“All my teachings of this kind,” said I, “have come from her who now
calls herself my mother, and whom I love with a son's affection.”
“And how is she called?”
I could not tell him. I only knew her as one who was as a mother to me,
and yet said she had no title to that name. Once or twice I had
heard her addressed as the Countess. There ended my knowledge of her
condition.
“She is rich, then?” asked be.
“Far from it,” said I, sorrowfully.
“Then can I make her so!” exclaimed he. “Joined with me in this mighty
enterprise, you can be the richest and the greatest man of the age. Nay,
child, this is not matter to smile at. I am no dreamer, no moon-struck
student of the impossible. I do not ponder over those subtle
combinations of metals that are to issue forth in yellow gold, nor do I
labor to distil the essences which are to crystallize into rubies. What
I strive at has been reached already,--the goal won, the prize enjoyed!
Ay, by my own father. By him was this brilliant discovery proclaimed
triumphantly before the face of Europe.”
The exultation with which he uttered these words seemed to carry him
away in thought from the scene wherein he stood, and his eyes gleamed
with a strange fire, and his lips continued to mutter rapidly. Then,
ceasing of a sudden, he said,--
“I must seek her; she will recognize me, for she will have heard our
history. She will give her permission, too, to you to join me in my
great design. The fate that sent you hither was no accident. Boy, there
are none such in life. Our passions in their wilfulness color destiny
with fitful changes, and these we call chance; but in nature all is
predetermined, and by plan.”
Now rambling on this wise, now stopping to question me as to who we
were, whence we came, and with what objects, he continued to talk till,
fairly overcome by weariness, I dropped off to sleep, his loud tones
still ringing in my ears through my dreams.
The following day he never left me; he seemed insatiable in his
desire to learn what progress I had made in knowledge, and how far my
acquirements extended. For classical learning and literature he
evinced no respect. These and modern languages, he said, were mere
accomplishments that might adorn a life of ease and luxury; but that
to a man who would be truly great there was but one subject of
inquiry,--the source of wealth, and the causes which make states
affluent. These, he said, were the legitimate subjects for high
intelligence to engage upon. “Master these,” said he, “and monarchs are
your vassals.” I was amazed to discover that amid the mass of prejudices
which encumbered his mind, it was stored with information the most
various and remarkable. It was evident, too, that he had lived much in
the great world, and was familiar with all its habits and opinions. As
time wore on, I learned from him that his present life, with all its
privations, was purely voluntary; that he possessed sufficient means to
support an existence of comfort and ease. “But,” added he, “if you would
give the intelligence a supremacy, it must be done at the cost of animal
enjoyment. If the body is to be pampered, the brain will take its ease.
To this end came I here; to this end have I lived fourteen years of toil
and isolation. I have estranged myself from all that could distract me;
friendships, pleasures, the great events of the age,--I know none of
them! I am satisfied to toil and think now that, in after ages, men
should hold my name in reverence, and regard my memory with affection.”
Although he constantly made allusions of this kind, he never proceeded
to give me any closer insight into his designs; and if at moments
the reasonableness of his manner and the strong force of his remarks
impressed me favorably with regard to his powers of mind, at others I
was induced to think that nothing short of erring faculties could have
condemned a man to a voluntary life of such abject want and of such
cruel privation as he endured.
It was still some weeks before I had strength to return home; but he
permitted me to write every second day to my mother and Raper, from
whom I heard in return. If at first my ardent longing to be once more
at home--to be with those who made up the whole world of my
existence--surpassed all other thoughts, I grew day by day to feel the
strange fascination of an unknown interest in the subject of his talk,
and to experience an intense anxiety to know his secret.
It was evident that he felt the influence he had obtained over me, and
was bent on extending and enlarging it; for constantly would he dwell
upon the themes which attracted me and fascinated my attention. Shall
I confess what these were? The brilliant pictures of courtly life, the
splendor and fascination of a palace, where all that could charm and
captivate abounded, and all were at the feet of one who, not a king, was
yet greater than a king, and who in the mighty power of his intellect
held kings and kaisers as his bond-slaves.
That these were not mere fancies he assured me by saying,--
“This has been witnessed by all Europe; it is not more than fifty years
ago that the world has seen all that I tell you. When I can convince you
of this, will you pledge yourself to be my follower?”
I at once gave my promise, and ratified it by a solemn row.
The next day we started on our return to Reichenau.