picture; "it is as genuine a Salvator Rosa as I ever painted. Thou hast
never seen me at work upon it, and therefore canst not know who the
author is. Thou hast no dexterity, my little simpleton; I ought not to
have trusted thee with the business."
"I will be a man of honour!" cried Edward, striking the table with his
fist; "I will become a steady man, and be once more respected by others
and myself. I will become quite another creature, I will enter on a new
course of life!"
"Why put thyself out of temper?" said the old man, renewing his
draught. "I will not hinder thee; I shall rejoice to see the day. I
have always, thou knowest, warned thee and lectured thee; I tried too
to accustom thee to work; I wanted to initiate thee in the process of
restoration, to teach thee to prepare varnishes, to grind colours, in
short, I have left no stone unturned for thy benefit."
"Dog of a fellow!" cried Edward, "was I to become thy journeyman, thy
colour-grinder? But in truth I sunk to-day deeper still, when I let
myself be used as a knave's knave!"
"What derogatory expressions the lad makes use of!" said the painter,
sniggering in his glass. "Were I to take such things to heart, here had
we forthwith tilting or bitter feud. But he means well for all his
warmth; the youngster has something noble in his character; only as a
picture-dealer, to be sure, he is good for nothing."
Edward laid his head on the table, from which the painter hastily wiped
a slop of wine away, that the youth might not dip his sleeve in it.
"The dear good Salvator," he then said thoughtfully, "is supposed
himself not to have led the best of lives; they even charge him with
having been a bandit. When Rembrandt gave himself out for dead in his
life-time, in order to raise the price of his works, he did not quite
adhere to truth neither, though he died in reality some years
afterwards, and so had only miscalculated a little. Suppose then, I, in
all love and humility, paint a little piece like this, and gently and
gradually identify myself in fancy with the old master, and all his
delightful peculiarities, so that I feel as if the spirit of the dear
departed guided my hand and pencil, and the thing is then finished, and
affectionately winks to me its gratitude, for having executed another
piece of the old virtuoso, who after all could not do every thing
himself, nor live for ever, and I now, especially after a glass of
wine, inspecting it with more profound attention, convince myself in
right earnest that it actually is a production of the old master, and
so hand it over to another lover of his, and desire only a fair
recompense for my pains, in having let my hand be guided and my own
genius suppressed for the time, to the detriment of my own reputation
as an artist:--Is this then an offence, my darling, that cries to
Heaven, to sacrifice myself in this child-like simplicity?"
He raised the recumbent head, but changed his grin of good-humour into
a gravity equally distorted, on seeing the cheeks of the youth full of
tears, which were gushing out of his eyes in a hot incessant stream.
"Oh, my lost youth!" sobbed Edward; "oh, ye golden days, ye weeks, and
years! how sinfully have I squandered you away, as though there lay not
in your hours the germ of virtue, of honour, and of happiness; as
though this precious treasure of time were ever to be redeemed. Like a
glass of stale water have I poured forth my life and the essence of my
heart. Oh! what a state of being might have opened on me, what
happiness for myself and others, had not an evil genius blinded my
eyes! Trees of blessing were growing and spreading a shade around me
and over me, in which a friend, a wife, and the afflicted, might have
found help, comfort, home, and peace; and I, in giddy wantonness, have
laid the axe to this grove, and must now endure frost, storm, and
heat!"
Eulenböck did not know what sort of face to make, still less what to
say; for in this mood, with such sentiments, he had never seen his
young friend before. At last he was glad to escape observation, and to
be able snugly to empty his bottle.
"Thou art bent then on becoming virtuous, my son?" he began at last;
"Good again. Verily few men are so inclined to virtue as myself, for it
requires a keen eye to know even what virtue is. To act the niggard,
and force people to lie in the face of God and man, is certainly none.
But whoever has the true talent that way is sure to find it. If I help
a sensible man to a good Salvator or Julio Romano of my own hand, and
he is pleased with it, I have at all events done a better action than
if I were to sell a blockhead a genuine Raphael, of which the dolt does
not know the value, and at the bottom of his heart would take more
delight in a tricksy Vanderwerft. My great Julio Romano I must sell in
person, since thou hast neither the gift nor the luck for this kind of
adventure."
"These wretched sophistries," said Edward, "can operate on _me_ no
longer; that time is gone by, and thou hast only to take care they do
not detect _thee_; for with the uninitiated indeed the attempt may
succeed, but not with judges such as old Walther."
"Let me alone, my little darling," said the old painter; "the _judges_
are precisely the best to cheat, and with a raw novice I should not
even wish to try the experiment. Oh! that good old dear Walther, that
sharp little man! Didst thou not see that fine Höllenbreughel that
hangs on the third pillar between the sketch of Rubens and the portrait
by Vandyke? That is mine. I went to the little man with the picture.
Have you a mind to buy a fine piece? 'What!' cried he, 'such mad
freaks, such fooleries? That is not in my line; however, let us see.
Well, in general I do not take in such absurdities; but as in this
picture there is rather more grace and design than one commonly meets
with in these vagaries, I will for once in a way make an exception.' In
short he kept it, and shows it to people to display his comprehensive
taste."
"But wilt thou," said Edward, "never turn honest man? It is surely high
time."
"My young doctor," cried the old man, "I have been one long. Thou dost
not understand the thing, nor art thou with all the warmth of thy
outset yet at the goal. When thou hast reached the mark, and happily
passed all rocks, bars, and beacons, then boldly beckon to me, and I
perhaps may shape my course after thee. Till then let me alone."
"So then our career of life is parted!" said Edward, viewing him again
with a look of kindness; "I have let slip much, but yet not all; I have
still a part of my property, my house, remaining. Here I shall quarter
myself plainly, and endeavour to procure a place as secretary or
librarian to the prince who is expected here shortly, perhaps I may
travel with him; perhaps elsewhere a fortunate chance--or if not, I
confine myself to this spot, and seek employment in my native town."
"And when dost launch into this life of virtue?" asked the old man with
a grin.
"Immediately," said the youth; "to-morrow, to-day, this hour."
"Nonsense!" said the painter, shaking his grey head; "for all good
things a man must allow himself time, must make preparation, take his
vantage run, close the old period with a solemn rite, and in like
manner begin the new one. It was an admirable custom of our ancestors,
in some districts, to celebrate the exequies of the carnival with a fit
of pure genuine extravagance, to let their spirits once more run wild
at the end of the holidays, and surfeit themselves with mirth, that
they might afterwards indulge their devotion uninterruptedly, and
without the slightest scruple of conscience. Let us observe that
worshipful custom; I have a yearning, dost see, towards thee, my little
pet; give us and thy mad humours once more a right choice carouse, a
solemn farewell dithyrambic, that thou mayst live in our memories,
especially in mine; let us be joyous over the best wine till late in
the night; then thou turnest off to the right to virtue and discretion,
and the rest of us stay on the left where we are."
"Guzzler!" said Edward smiling, "so long as thou findest but a pretext
for getting drunk, all is well with thee. Let it be then on Twelfth
Night."
"That is still four days off," sighed the old man, draining the last
drop, and then silently retired.
* * * * *
"We shall have a little party to dinner today," said counsellor Walther
to his daughter.
"Indeed!" said Sophia. "And will young Edward come too?"
"No," answered her father. "How comes he into your head?"
"I was only thinking," said Sophia, "that you might perhaps wish to
make him some amends, by an invitation, for the disagreeable scene
which he was forced to go through against your will in your house."
"To-day," replied the old gentleman, "would of all days be the least
suitable, for the very man by whom the youth was affronted is to dine
with us."
"Ay! he?" said the maid, with a lengthened tone.
"It looks as if you had a dislike to this stranger."
"An exceeding one," cried Sophia; "for in the first place, I cannot
bear any body when one does not know exactly who he is; this incognito
is a dear pleasure in a strange place, to make a man pass for something
extraordinary when he has precisely nothing at all to conceal; and such
is no doubt the case with this Unknown, who has all the appearance of a
chamberlain or secretary out of place, and gave himself yesterday in
your gallery the airs of a superintendent-general of all the missionary
institutions."
"You said, in the first place; now then in the second place?" asked the
father smiling.
"In the second place," said she laughing, "he is a horrid creature; and
in the third place, he is intolerable; and in the fourth place, I hate
him heartily."
"That is indeed first and last with you women," said the old man.
"There will be besides my friend Erich, and the young painter Dietrich,
and that strange creature Eulenböck."
"There we have all ages together," cried Sophia, "all kinds of taste
and modes of thinking! Does not young Von Eisenschlicht come too, to
spoil completely the comfort of my life?"
The father raised his forefinger threateningly; however she would not
be put out, but went on volubly and pettishly: "It is true, I have no
enjoyment of my life in their company; there is such chattering and
ogling, such gallantry and false compliments, each making the other
more intolerable, that I should like a three days' fast better than
such meals. These innamoratos set my teeth on edge like unripe
currants; every word they say leaves a tart taste in my mouth for a
week, and spoils my palate for all better fruit. I like the old
crook-nosed copper-faced sinner the best of them all, for he at least
has no thoughts of transferring me like a piece of furniture into his
study."
"This humour of yours," said the father, "is a defect in yourself that
annoys me, indeed really concerns me; for, considering the stubbornness
of your temper, I can see no chance of an alteration in you. You know
my sentiments on the subject of marriage and love as it is called, how
happy you would make me if you would subdue your will--"
"I must see to the kitchen," cried she suddenly: "I must do you honour
to-day; only do not you forget your good wines, that Eulenböck may not
give your cellar a bad name." So saying she ran out, without waiting
for an answer.
The old gentleman went to look after his affairs while his daughter
superintended the preparations for the table. She had broken off the
conversation so suddenly, because it was her father's wish, with which
she was but too well acquainted, to marry her to his friend Erich, who,
though no longer a young man, was not so far advanced in years as to
render the scheme ridiculous. Erich had acquired a considerable fortune
in his business; he was at this moment in possession of a collection of
first-rate pictures of the Italian schools, and Walther proposed that,
if his daughter could be brought to consent to the match, Erich should
then retire from business, and incorporate these first-rate pictures
into his gallery, that his son-in-law might possess and preserve it,
distinguished as it would thus become, after his death: for he dreaded
the thought of this excellent collection being some time or other again
dispersed, perhaps even sold at an under-price, and thrown away on men
in whose hands, from want of judgment, the pictures might go to ruin.
His passion for painting was so great, that he would at all events have
bought his friend's pictures at a very high price, had not the purchase
of a considerable estate and a large garden, which he wished to leave
to his daughter, prevented him, and rendered any outlay, but especially
to such an amount, impracticable. As he was writing his letters these
thoughts were continually diverting his attention. He then bethought
himself of the young painter Dietrich, a handsome light-haired youth;
and though his style of practising his art was as little to his taste
as that of his dress, he would still have been glad to embrace him as
his son-in-law, because he was convinced that the young man would
cherish the highest reverence for his intended bequest. Old Eulenböck
could not enter into his thoughts with a view to his plans; but since
the day before he had viewed the stranger connoisseur with an eye of
paternal affection, and hence the petulant answer in which his daughter
had expressed herself about him gave him so much dissatisfaction. He
would not own it to himself, but his thoughts, when he looked into
futurity, were bent much more towards the preservation of his gallery
than the happiness of his child. Even young Von Eisenschlicht, the son
of an usurer, would have been acceptable to him as a son-in-law, for
the young man's taste had been tolerably cultivated in his travels; and
as he possessed at the same time his father's propensities, there was
good ground to expect that he would, from every consideration, treat so
valuable a collection with respect.
Thus passed the forenoon, and the guests dropped in one after the
other. First of all the youngest, Dietrich, in what is called the old
German costume, his flaxen hair flowing down his shoulders, and with a
short light beard which did not disfigure his ruddy transparent face.
He immediately made anxious inquiry after the daughter, and she
appeared, in a dress of green silk, which gave a surprising relief to
the brilliance of the face and neck. The young man, with a manner at
once embarrassed and pressing, immediately began a conversation with
Sophia, which grew the more dry, the more transcendent he endeavoured
to make it. They were interrupted, to the comfort of both, by the
appearance of old Eulenböck, whose brown-red visage peered oddly out of
a pea-green waistcoat and whitish frock, he being, as is often the case
with decidedly ugly men, fond of dressing in glaring colours. The young
folks could hardly stifle a laugh at seeing him wheel awkwardly in, pay
his respects with a grimace, and stumble in an unsuccessful attempt at
politeness, while his gestures rendered his wry face, little sharp
eyes, and twisted nose, the more conspicuous in their oddity. The
stranger made the company wait for him a long while, and Sophia again
rallied his presumption in playing the man of consequence, till at last
he appeared, plainly dressed, and enabled the party to proceed to the
dining-room, where they found Erich, who had been hanging a picture
there which the stranger and the painters were to inspect. Sophia sat
between Erich and the stranger, though Dietrich had made an unavailing
attempt to wedge himself in by her side. Eulenböck, who observed every
thing, and was never so well pleased as when he could wrap his malice
in the disguise of good-nature, squeezed the young man's hand, and
thanked him with seeming emotion for having cruised about so long
merely to sit by the side of an old man who, it was true, also loved
and practised the art, but still with his declining powers could no
longer emulate the flight of the new school, though its enthusiasm
rekindled his old fire, and warmed his chilled spirits. Dietrich, who
was yet young enough to take all this in earnest, did not know how to
express gratitude enough, nor to put forth modesty sufficient to
counterbalance this humility. The old rogue was delighted with
the success of his irony, and continued to open the heart of the
good-natured youth, who already fancied he saw a scholar of his own in
this old tyro, and thereupon began secretly to calculate how he should
employ his practical knowledge for higher ends, without letting the
veteran perceive that his new teacher was at the same time his scholar.
While these two were thus trying to deceive each other, the
conversation of the stranger and his host had fallen, accidentally on
the one side, and by judicious management on the other, on the topic of
matrimony; for old Walther seldom let slip an opportunity of delivering
his sentiments on that subject. "I have never," said he, "been able to
coincide with the views which for now nearly half a century have become
a general fashion. I call them a fashion, because, though I too have
been young in my time, I could never convince myself that they were
founded in nature. Is it possible to deny that some men are liable at
times to passionate moods and excesses? We have but too frequently been
forced to perceive the evil consequences of anger, drunkenness,
jealousy, and rage. So it cannot be denied that a variety of mischief
and strange catastrophes have sprung from those exaggerated feelings to
which we give the name of love. The only question is as to the
absurdity of which men are guilty when they avoid all other
distractions, and seek to wean themselves from their subjection to
sudden impulses of passion, while nevertheless for some time past it
has become a common boast, and has been considered even as necessary to
life, to have experienced love, and its wild moods and passionate
distractions."
The stranger looked at his host seriously and nodded assent, thereupon
the old gentleman proceeded with a raised voice:
"Should one after all be disposed to make some degree of concession,
and admit that there is something natural in the moods of these lovers,
in which, as they tell us, the whole world appears to them in a more
beautiful light, and they are conscious of their powers being
heightened and multiplied (though in general during that waking dream
they are sluggish and incapable of labour), what, I ask, avails all
this, supposing it even to take the happiest turn, towards concluding a
rational good marriage? I would never give my consent were I to have
the misfortune to observe this sort of infatuation in my daughter."
Sophia smiled; young Dietrich looked at her with a blush, and Eulenböck
kept drinking with great satisfaction, while the stranger gravely
listened to the old man, who, sure of his point, went on with so much
the more zeal: "No; happy the man who, a total stranger to this
preposterous passion, conceives the rational resolution of entering
into the wedded state; and blest the maid who decorously finds a
husband without having ever acted with him those scenes of frenzy; for
then results that content, that quiet, and blessedness, which was not
unknown to our forefathers, but which the modern world thinks beneath
its notice. In those marriages, which were contracted after rational
deliberation in humility and quiet resignation, the men of former days
experienced, in growing confidence, in increasing tenderness, and
reciprocal indulgence for each other's infirmities, a happiness which
appears too trivial to the present arrogant generation, and it
therefore rears in the garden of life no fruits but wretchedness and
want, discontent and misunderstanding, discord and contempt. Early
habituated to the intoxication of passion, they seek the same in
wedlock, and despise the necessary duties of ordinary life, renew their
love-tricks at every turn in reiterated variations which have
constantly less and less of novelty, and so are lost in worthlessness
and self-delusion."
"Very bitter, but true," said the Unknown, with a thoughtful air.
"It is with this as with all bitters," whispered Sophia, "they fall too
heavy on the palate; one cannot rightly distinguish whether it is a
taste, or whether it only deadens all taste; such things are of course
true for one who likes them."
Eulenböck, who had also heard this remark, laughed, and the father, who
had only half caught what had passed, addressed himself gaily to his
unknown guest: "We are agreed then that none but marriages of
convenience, as they are called, can be prosperous; and I shall never
hesitate to give my only daughter, who will not be portionless or poor,
to a man, whatever be his rank, whose character I esteem, and whose
acquirements, particularly on the subject of the arts, I have reason to
respect, that my grandchildren may still reap the fruits of my
industry, and that the treasures which have been collected in this
mansion by love for the arts, self-denial, study, and indefatigable
diligence, be not scattered to the four winds, and over the houses of
the ignorant."
He looked at the stranger with a complacent smile; but the latter, who
till now had graciously met his advances, put on something like a
scowl, and said after a short pause: "The collections of private
persons can never subsist long; a lover of the arts, if he has made a
collection, should sell his treasures at a fair price to some prince,
or embody them by his will in some great gallery. For this reason I
cannot approve of your plan with regard to your daughter, though I
agree with you in your views of matrimony. And in any case marriage is
an affair full of risk. If I were not engaged, and compelled by a
thousand urgent motives not to break my word, my inclination would lead
me never to marry."
The old gentleman coloured and hung his head, and soon after began a
conversation with his neighbour on another topic. "The late auction of
engravings," said the picture-dealer, "has not turned out so productive
by a great deal as the owner anticipated." "That is frequently the case
with auctions," said the daughter, briskly throwing in her word; "no
man therefore ought to meddle with them who is not driven to it by
extreme necessity."
Dietrich was yet too inexperienced to perceive the connexion of this
dialogue; he declaimed sincerely and warmly on the barbarism of
auctions, in which the most precious rarities are often overlooked,
many works damaged by the gapers and understrappers, and the reputation
of great masters, as well as the feelings of their genuine admirers,
receive painful shocks. By this he won the good opinion of the father,
who brightened up and gave him a gracious assent. Sophia, afraid
perhaps that a new proposal was to be brought forward under cover of
enthusiasm for the arts, hastily asked the young painter whether he
should soon have finished his picture of the Virgin, or whether he
meant first to complete his Descent from the Cross.
"You too then paint subjects of this pathetic kind?" asked the
stranger, casting across at the young man a somewhat oblique glance
from beneath half-closed eyelids. "I can never overcome my surprise
that men in their best and most cheerful years can waste their time and
imagination on such subjects. We have I should think Holy Families
enough in our galleries, it is a field in which there is no room for a
new invention; and those corpses and distortions of agony are so wholly
repugnant to all grace and enjoyment of sense, that I can never help
turning my eyes away from them. It is the business of the arts to
heighten and cheer our existence, to make all its wants and all the
wretchedness of the world vanish at their approach, and not to vex and
rack our fancy with their productions. The sensible world ought to play
in a fresh cheerful light, and with its gentle attraction soothe, and
in that way elevate us. Beauty is joy, life, vigour. The man who seeks
night and gloomy feelings has acquired yet small knowledge of himself.
But you perhaps are one of those who, at the sight of pictures of this
sort, force their religious faith into raptures, and require a species
of devotion to be kindled in us, that we may understand the subject and
appreciate it with christian feelings?"