VI

In due time Burg Balzer finished his “history,” and even got it

printed, a harder task than the writing. There was only one printing

office in the principality, and this belonged to the court bookbinder

Zöllner in Westerau. Zöllner, owner also of a toy store and circulating

library, printed every year the “Court, State, and House Almanac

of Westerau,” and this was the extent of his printing venture; he

could never be induced to risk any other literary undertaking. Philip

had foreseen that, and offered to cover all necessary expenses with

the contents of his savings-box. The castle fund, which had been

collecting for twelve years, amounted now to exactly two florins and

eighteen kreutzers.[1] But Herr Zöllner was not satisfied. Philip,

though surprised that books could cost so much, did not lose courage.

He, knowing that peasants pay their rent partly in money and produce

the rest in manual labor and labor of their teams, proposed to the

bookbinder to pay him by the same method, to write out bills and

dunning letters, line school copybooks, and perform other tasks, until

all expenses had been paid. The bookbinder agreed, and Balzer, with a

heavy sigh, became his publisher’s drudge, as also more famous authors

have been. Piles of the bookbinder’s work were carried to Neideck

every Saturday, but the pile of Philip’s own book in Westerau remained

untouched. Philip bore his burden heroically; he was slaving for his

castle, that was enough for Philip. He had not neglected, however, to

present some elegantly bound copies to the ruling princes of his own

and adjoining lands. At first he expected a few gold snuff-boxes in

return, then, at least, some kind acknowledgment by letter; but nothing

came.

The Prince of Westerau had given the book to his valet, because it had

come uncalled for and not in proper form; all gifts from his subjects,

as long as they were of no special value, went the same way.

The valet found the book so uninteresting that he passed it on to

Isabella’s maid. The girl, feeling life at court even more tedious than

this book, first read a little in it, then forgot it, leaving it in the

Princess’s room, where, during a sleepless night, as we have seen, it

fell at last into the right hands.

The Princess was glad to hear something more definite about the

enchanted castle, and was surprised to read of all the strange events

that had taken place there--a small history of the world in itself--and

of the numerous historical monuments still in existence there. The

French books with which Fräulein von Martigny tormented her every day

took her to Rome, Athens, Mexico, and other places, for which she

cared nothing; it pleased her at last to be able to read about what

was nearest her home, about the mystery upon which she looked out from

her own windows. The beginning of the book had a soothing effect, even

helped her to sleep; later on it became more interesting, and toward

the end quite exciting. Sometimes the author was very comical, just

when he wished to be very impressive; but he always meant well, and

was very enthusiastic. The Princess became interested in an author who

could make her laugh without quite laughing at him. In the preface the

writer offers himself as guide to every visitor in Neideck, by day or

night, in rain or sunshine; and when Isabella closed the book she was

more than willing to have such a guide through the ruins--in moonshine

if possible. At times the book spoke like a prophet; for example, on

page 112, where it said quite mysteriously: “A man may build a house

or a castle, but this house or castle will build up and mold the man

who lives in it. Apparently time has come to a standstill in the old

stronghold; but only apparently, for time is not only ever moving,

but also moves others; it moves the castle toward growth and age. The

castle is really a living being, mysteriously connected with the fate

of the ruling family, of the country, and perhaps also with the fate

of a humble subject, who does not yet reveal his identity. These ruins

have their spirit; not a ghost, but _the_ spirit of the castle, put

into it by every one who, led by some vague impulse, approaches in

all sincerity so mighty a monument, receiving back from it in higher

potency what all have put there. In this way the curses of the poor

evicted women have become reality; two of these curses are already

fulfilled, and the third will surely come to pass when the predestined

lady of the castle appears, to bring for the first time after a hundred

years love and blessing, to save the castle and put men to shame. Who

is this noble lady, and when will she appear?” With this question

the book closed. As mentioned before, the Princess was much excited

by these words. Until now, to feel bored and to marry her hateful

cousin seemed to be her only vocation in life. The first she was not

responsible for, the second she intended to be fully responsible for.

But now she began to wonder if she were not called upon to save the

castle? It was not quite clear to her what there was about it to be

saved, but that did not matter. She had found her vocation in life:

she was going to save something. To begin with, she must first see the

castle.

A new spirit of insubordination awoke in her. Was it not her natural

right to see the home of her ancestors? and why should she be defrauded

of that right? For the first time she studied her own situation,

without prejudice, as a matter of principle, and she discovered that

she was kept imprisoned, led by leading-strings, bored, and made

stupid. “The house molds the person,” she had read. Yes, indeed, the

gilded cage of this tiresome castle had made a puppet of her. But that

was over now. A strong spirit of defiance began to stir in that pretty

head; Rousseau’s spirit was filling her, too, with fire and flame, and

all this through the influence of poor Burg Balzer, who knew nothing at

all about Rousseau.

It was just at this time, when the first storm of rebellion was

shaking the Princess’s world of thought, that the arrangements for her

marriage were to be completed. The visit by the young Count had been

announced three times, and three times apologies had been sent for

his not coming. The young man, just returned from his travels, could

not be induced to go to Westerau; he shuddered when he remembered

the days he had spent there as a child. In spite of this reluctance,

unflattering and unpromising as it was, the two fathers remained firm,

and the young people had to submit. The Princess, though hoping the

Count would remain at Blocksberg, was yet annoyed that he did not care

to see her. She declared to her father that she would say “No!” even

on the steps of the altar, and that no power on earth could make her

go to Vierstein. Such open rebellion had never been known before,

while the reasons with which Isabella supported her right to a voice

in the matter were simply unthinkable. The Prince ceased to recognize

his gentle daughter. He sent for her responsible guardian, Fräulein von

Martigny, to hear what she had to say about this paroxysm of revolt.

The frightened lady told him that she _had_ noticed a certain obstinacy

and extravagance in Isabella for several days; it had worried her

greatly, but she had not been able to discover the cause. The Prince,

accustomed to have everything settled according to his wishes promptly

and definitely, now commanded Fräulein von Martigny to take Isabella

for a walk in the garden. Within an hour he would look for the report

that Isabella had been brought to her senses.

But instead of coming to an understanding, the two ladies had a serious

quarrel; they did not raise their voices; their gestures were quite

within the rules of finest etiquette; but underneath it all poisoned

arrows and sharp thrusts were exchanged.

They had been walking for more than half an hour up and down, under

the orange trees in front of the castle, when suddenly they heard a

confused sound of angry voices coming from the gate. The two ladies

stopped: a man with long hair _sans_ powder and cue, in shabby clothes,

half rustic, half citified-looking, was trying to enter the castle,

while footmen were driving him back. He held a petition in his hand,

and kept calling out: “I must see the Prince! I _must_ see the Prince!”

The footmen told him that it was impossible, and would have quickly

overpowered him when, seeing the Princess, the man broke loose and ran

straight toward the ladies.

“Gracious Princess!” he cried, quite out of breath. “I am the

schoolmaster of Neideck! Help me! I must speak to your father, the

Prince! Danger is threatening!”

In great indignation Fräulein von Martigny drew the Princess away,

and the servants again laid hands on the excited man. But when

Isabella heard his name, she actually ordered the footmen to release

him. At such independence on Isabella’s part, Fräulein stood like a

statue turned to stone. Isabella now asked the schoolmaster for an

explanation. His words were not courtier-like, but they sounded all the

more natural for that. “Imagine, Princess!” he said, “the castle of

Neideck is to be demolished, blown up, leveled to the ground. It was

the steward who suggested it, and the Prince has given his assent. They

will begin work next week. Think of it! The home of your ancestors, the

country’s stronghold, the most beautiful edifice--in one word, Neideck

is to fall! And what makes the blow still more unbearable is the fact

that it is I who am the cause of it, I, who put the plan into the

steward’s head! In my history of the castle--”

“I have read it,” interrupted the Princess, smiling graciously, while

a smirk of pleased authorship passed over Philip’s rapt features. He

continued:

“In my history I explained the name of the Hasen Tower; perhaps you

know that the present steward Haas is a grandson of the one who cut his

throat in one of the rooms there. I had to tell all that, for truth is

the first duty of the historian, nothing but truth; the man who tells

only half the truth is a liar through and through. Well, the steward is

angry, and says that I have insulted his grandfather in his grave; and

that I did it in print, moreover, which is worse. He wished to dismiss

me from my position as teacher, but the inspector, my kind protector,

interfered. Now, as the steward can not send me away, he has determined

that the castle shall be destroyed. He alleges that it interferes with

the traffic. The traffic! Why, you can’t find any traffic over there,

even if you searched for it with spectacles. He asserts, too, that it

gives shelter to tramps--I am the only one who lives there; that it

threatens to collapse of itself any day. Well, then, if that is the

case, why does he want to demolish it? But those are idle pretexts; the

true reason is his grandfather’s suicide. See how one evil deed leads

to another! The Prince has agreed only because he has been falsely

informed. But I will explain everything to his Highness. If that

stronghold were destroyed, it would be a disgrace to the whole land,

and it would be not only my fault, but my death, too! Help me to an

audience, gracious Princess, an immediate audience with the Prince!”

Fräulein von Martigny called the footmen back and told them to take

that mad fellow away, but Isabella interposed: “My dear schoolmaster,

follow me!” Making a graceful motion with her fan, she advanced to the

entrance-hall and up the stairway, Balzer following with head erect.

In the mean while Fräulein was calling for _eau de lavande_, fell in a

swoon, so the footmen had to support her instead of the schoolmaster.

The Princess was taking a bold course; but one who breaks the chain

is stronger than one who has never worn it. When Isabella entered her

father’s room, the Prince thought she had come, dutifully as usual,

to submit herself to his will, with the lady who had influenced her

following. How astonished he was to see Burg Balzer’s face instead of

Fräulein von Martigny’s! He gave the imprudent man one piercing look,

whereupon Isabella began at once to explain, describing in a few words

the whole scene, and begging mercy for the castle, while Balzer fell on

his knees and, holding his petition aloft, cried: “Mercy! Mercy!”

With great self-possession the Prince touched the bell. When the valet

entered, the Prince ordered him to see that this impertinent intruder

of a schoolmaster leave the castle at once. It was done.

Alone with his daughter, he gave her a sharp lecture. Isabella

acknowledged that his reproaches were just, but was not her

intercession for the castle also just? She unfolded her reasons with

such enthusiasm that the old Prince listened in astonishment to an

eloquence never before suspected in his daughter. Fired by the spirit

of Philip’s book, she saw in the castle a living being, and prophesied

that in vain would remorse follow its destruction, as if one were to

kill a man and then call in the doctor.

But the Prince was inexorable. Though Isabella’s eloquence had made a

strong impression upon him, it was also quite different from the one

intended. He could not help thinking that if the Count only saw the

girl thus passionately excited he would like her better than he had

heretofore; he remembered, from times long past, that young people

admire strong passion. This led to another thought--only he was not

quite sure that it would be proper to express it. He said at last

in his coldest voice: “If you care so much for the castle, let us

exchange. I give you the castle and you give me your ‘Yes’ for the

Count!”

But now the Princess burned in righteous indignation. She called it

a shameless proposition, and affirmed that she would never marry her

cousin.

It was her last word. Her father, too, had nothing more to say. The

family jar was over.

After that events moved quickly. The Prince gave orders that for

criminally breaking the peace of the princely household and of the

palace the mad schoolmaster of Neideck must leave the castle within

twenty-four hours. Furthermore, the demolition of the castle must

commence as soon as possible. The Princess, too, was ordered to her

own room for an indefinite time, and the strictest watchfulness

exacted from her lady-in-waiting, for the unfortunate girl had shown

traces of a mental disorder that could be cured only by a life of

utter seclusion. As Count Vierstein was expected on the following

Sunday, the Prince wished, by any means, to prepare Isabella for his

coming, and thus to awaken love for him in her heart. His orders were

promptly executed. The dismissed schoolmaster disappeared from his

little house. He had not left the castle, however, for he was hiding

in the secret vault, where in the year 1757 he had faced the siege

without besiegers. There he spent all his days and nights, except in

the evening, when he would steal out into the village, and the peasants

would give him something to eat, keeping the matter a profound secret,

so that the steward should not continue to persecute him.

The mental condition of the poor schoolmaster, formerly so happy and

content, was pitiful. He never thought of his own misery, only of

the ruin that threatened the castle, all through his fault. He had

renounced his love, only to bring ruin to the castle; collected the

fund, only to see the castle demolished; written his history--to have

those glorious towers of Neideck blown up! Tormented by remorse, he

made up his mind, if it should ever really come to _that_, he would be

at the bridge leading to the Hasen Tower at the right moment.