CHAPTER X.
HELPING ONE'S SELF, OR BEING HELPED.
Eric turned homewards, like a man, who, coming out of a saloonilluminated with dazzling brilliancy, to his study where burns asolitary lamp, involuntarily rubs his eyes, which having becomeaccustomed to the greater degree of brightness, require it, and areunable without it to see so clearly and distinctly as before.
The peril of wealth lies in the fact that it may ruin not only thepossessor, but the non-possessor. Language has not completely coveredthe whole case, when it calls this dissatisfaction and unrest of soul,envy, grudging, churlishness; it is not this at all, it is rather thesevere torment of the unanswered question, Why art thou not as rich?No, this thou dost not desire; but why art thou not, at least, placedout of the reach of anxious care? The struggles of human life are hardenough, why must thou have, in addition, this wrestling with sordidwant?
The most cruel suffering which the perception of riches inflicts uponthe non-possessor is, that it produces in him an unwillingness to work,a supineness, a consciousness of servitude, and yet worse, that itmakes all effort appear questionable. What avails all thy contriving,thy aspiration, all thy superstructure of great thoughts, so long asthere are human beings near thee, inhabiting with thee the same earth,and perishing with starvation!
The ant in the pathway is better taken care of, for there are no antswho are glutted, while others near by are hungry. What is all labor,so long as this monster still stalks in the midst of us! Has thatworld-wisdom, has that religious doctrine, the victorious power oftruth, if it cannot annihilate this monster?
Eric shut his eyes, and dreamed in broad daylight that disturbed dreamof our age, which attends the clatter of the locomotive. The locomotiverushed along with rapid piston-beat, making a strange accompaniment tothe meditation of the silent passenger. He had his eyes closed, and yethe now perceived that they were passing through a tunnel. And as such aplunge into the darkness of earth suddenly interrupts all conversation,so does it break off the thread of silent thought.
When they emerged into the light again, the current of Eric's thoughtsbecame changed. A smile came over his countenance, which looked as ifhe were asleep, as the thought occurred to him that a rich vein wasopened for a treatise upon the theoretical and practical treatment ofpoverty, philosophically, religiously, politically, and morally, inancient times. The bitterness of the feeling of poverty was therebylessened and removed, for poverty itself came into the realm ofscience. And his meditation proceeded farther; for to the historicalview of poverty there was added a consideration of its essentialnature. Man alone can be poor and rich. The whole world of humansociety is a linked chain of inquiring glances, as if each would say tothe other, "Thou hast what I have not."
In external nature, no creature looks to another differentlyconstituted, no created thing troubles itself about another; each birdin the wood has its own range for procuring food for its young, and noother one of the same species builds its nest within that circuit,obliging it to struggle for insects and grubs to feed its brood. Theanimals of a like species, of like characteristics, of like means ofdefence and attack, alone live together in one herd, but they have nounion. Man alone comes into a union with beings of a like species,those who, endowed by nature with the same faculties, are furnished bydestiny with greater force than he himself possesses.
The clattering continued without interruption, the locomotive whistled,and the thought took hold of Eric's soul, that the grandest idea whichhumanity has ever revealed out of the mouth of an individual has beenthis: "No one is poor and no one rich, when we direct the thought tothe Eternal. The Fatherhood of God bridges over the abyss."
The wheels upon the iron rails went on beating time, and gave a newrhythm to Eric's thought, who now opened his eyes, saying to himself,--
"So it is! The children of God are borne along in the first, second,and third class railway carriages by the same power, the power ofsteam, whether they sit upon soft or hard benches; it makes nodifference."
People got in, people got out; Eric took no notice of them, and theydid not disturb his meditation. He quietly smiled upon all, and sawthem as in a dream, wholly forgetful of himself, as one looks upon themovement hither and thither in an ant-hill, where each may carry itspine-needle, its little seed-grain.
Eric first waked up when his ticket was called for, as they approachedthe university-town, and then he roused himself as if he had just comeout of a deep, dream-disturbed sleep; he composed himself ready togreet his mother. He got out. No one was awaiting his arrival.
The hills around, which had formerly seemed to Eric so bright andbeautiful, and where he had strolled alone or with his father, engagedin the contemplation of vast, world-important thoughts, these hills nowappeared so low and so small, and the river so insignificant! His eyehad taken in wider and more extensive views, and a larger standard ofmeasurement had unconsciously been made his own.
He saw the old forms at the station, he saw the university-simpleton,which every smaller university has, who grinned at the doctor, and badehim welcome. He saw the students with their caps of various colors, whowere amusing themselves with making passes in the air with their canes,and playing with their dogs. All this seemed to him like a forgottendream. And how was this? Had it not formerly been his highest desire tolive and to teach here?
He went through the town,--nowhere anything pleasing to the eye; allwas narrow, angular, contracted. He came to the paternal mansion;the narrow, wooden steps seemed to him so steep; he entered thesitting-room. No one was there. Mother and aunt had gone out. He wentinto his father's library: the books, formerly arranged in such goodorder, and which, hitherto, no one had ventured to disturb, were lying,for the most part, upon the floor; a tall, lean man, looking over thespectacles on the tip of his nose, stood staring at him with surprise.
Eric introduced himself; the man took the spectacles in his hand, andgave as his name that of a well-known antiquary in the capital, who hadcome to purchase the library.
So his mother's hope was gone, thought Eric. He remarked to theantiquary how valuable his father's annotations were, which were to befound on almost every page of every book.
The antiquary shrugging his shoulders, replied that these comments werevalueless, and that they even detracted from the value of the books. Ifhis father had written a great book, which gave him a great reputation,these notes would then have value; but his father had all his life beenintending to write a great work, but had never accomplished it; and soall the notes and comments, even if valuable in themselves, were forthe antiquary a depreciation in the worth of the books.
The tears came into Eric's eyes, already excited as he was by what hehad gone through.
The whole labor of his father's life was not only to be lost, but to beworse than lost. Here was no leaf on which the eye of the sleeping onehad not rested, here were his private thoughts, his feelings and hisrich wisdom, and this was to be flung away into the world, despised,and perhaps appropriated by some stranger for his own profit.
Eric blamed himself for not accepting decidedly and immediately theposition with Sonnenkamp; he might have effected it, and then havereceived a considerable sum of money. He blamed himself for letting theold cavalier pride get the better of him.
Eric looked sorrowfully upon a whole pile of manuscript sheets, books,and inserted printed scraps, which his father had been collecting andpreparing his whole lifetime.
Eric's father had intended to write a book with the title, "The RealMan in History;" but he had died before accomplishing his purpose. Manyvaluable notes, even single portions, had been written out, but no usecould be made of them, for each separate remark was considered in threedifferent ways, and the leading idea had been contained in the head ofthe professor alone. All the sciences and the most remote facts ofhistory had been drawn together, but the leading and connecting thoughtof the whole had vanished with the man himself, now resting in theground; no entire for
m could be constructed out of these fragments.Only one thing was often pointed out, that the title should be, "TheReal Man."
The first and larger part was to have collected those traits, scatteredin the course of ages, out of which the image of God could beconstructed as it was manifest in all the actual unfoldings ofhumanity; the second part was then to give an exact account of themanifestations of the soul's life in the past, to be as definitelydetermined as past events in external nature; and from there onwardswas the point to be designated where genius, that miracle in theintellectual sphere, lays the foundation for new developments. This waswhat Eric thought, at any rate, when he tried to arrange the papersleft by his father; then the leading and fundamental thought vanished,and all this matter collected with such laborious industry seemedutterly useless. As a treasure-digger, who must raise the treasurewithout speaking, so his father seemed to have closed his lips uponwhat he had already done, and upon what he intended to do.
Eric went back to the sitting-room, and the deep emotion of his heart,the whole uncertainty of his position, the growing strangeness of hishome--all these were gathered into the thought of the lost labor, theuseless toil of his father.
He looked around the room; it seemed to him inconveniently crowded withold furniture. He, who generally examined himself so closely and judgedhimself so severely, did not suspect that the sight of luxurious wealthand the late recognition of his own poverty had thrown a dark veil overall surrounding objects.
He collected himself, for he heard his mother and aunt returning.
His mother was heartily glad to see her son, but Eric was deeplytroubled when she told him that she should have thought it quite rightif he had accepted the situation with Sonnenkamp without reference toher, because, in their present position, it seemed double good fortune.
Eric saw that his mother, whom nothing had ever been able to bend, wasnow not only bent, but broken, and while he looked into her sorrowfulface, he bitterly felt that his scruples and his sacrifice appearedsuperfluous.
His mother, repressing her own feelings, had written to the widowedprincess, whose maid of honor she had been, giving an account of hersituation. She had poured out her whole heart to the noble lady, andspoken of the great good fortune of the princess in being able torender essential help to her, who had never asked any favor; sherequested a limited sum of money in order not to be obliged to sell thelibrary of her husband, which was a sacred family possession, and hadgreat value for her son. Tears came into her own eyes, as she read overthe letter she had written. And now the mother handed to her son thereply of the dowager princess. She had answered through her secretaryin well-expressed, sympathetic, and gracious terms. A small sum ofmoney was enclosed, not half enough for the object in view.
The mother had had the desire to return this small sum, with the shrewdreply that, perhaps, the subordinate employed had not enclosed the fullamount determined on by the princess; but she did not do it; one mustnot offend these high personages; one must even return humble thanks,in order not to forfeit their unsubstantial good-will.
Eric promised to have the library secured within a week.
He went immediately to his chamber, and wrote a letter to CountWolfsgarten. He stated in plain words his state of mind at reaching hispaternal home, in what condition he had found it and his mother, andfinally he quoted to Clodwig his declaration,--
"I feel so much a friend to you, that I can allow myself to be placedunder obligation by you."
Eric had written that he should feel no change towards Wolfsgarten,even if he refused his request. But feeling that this was not true, hetore up the letter and wrote another, leaving out this assurance. Itwas no trifling matter for Eric, the first time in his life, to presenthimself as a petitioner, yes,--he tormented himself with the word,--asa beggar.
Eric now spoke directly of his journey. His mother heard him throughquietly, except that when Bella was mentioned, she said,--"BellaPranken is a woman who cannot be counted on."
The old plans were discussed anew. Eric wanted to establish aneducational institution, and his mother and aunt were strongly inclinedto this, as they had many connections with the best families of thecountry; but they were not agreed whether they should have aninstitution for girls or for boys. Eric was in favor of the latter, ashe could have more direct relations with that; but his mother wantedhim to make a scientific journey for several years, so as to acquire areputation at once by means of some great work, and not creep on in theplodding path. She and the aunt would, in the meanwhile, earn so muchat the capital that Eric could live free from care.
They came to the conclusion to make no positive decision until HerrSonnenkamp's letter should be received. The mother said that it wouldbe the fulfilment of one of her ideals of life to take possession ofthe vine-covered little house; and she entertained a sanguine hope ofattaining some influence over the lad surrounded by the dangers ofriches; she should be glad to do so, as he was just the age of the sonshe had lost.
Eric visited his old teacher and friend, Professor Einsiedel, who washis chief instructor. He was a high-priest of science, a man who,engaged continually and exclusively in the region of pure thought, andin investigations for the extension of the sphere of knowledge, livedentirely alone, regular, methodical, systematic, free from allexcitement, eating and drinking an incredibly small quantity, butalways attracted by new developments of truth, always open-eyed to lookinto the widespreading realm of thought.
Professor Einsiedel had been a friend of Eric's father, and he alwayslamented that he, who was continually striving after the best and theperfect, had not accomplished the good, which is necessarilyincomplete. His axiom was, that we must be contented with having madesome small, individual contribution, and that this extends to become apart of the great whole. We never accomplish anything that gives usperfect satisfaction, and to which we have nothing more to add. Only ofthe Creator can it be said, that on ending his work. He saw that it wasgood. The absolute mind can alone effect that the created existenceshall correspond to the creative thought, the actual to the ideal; thefinite mind must always have over it the idea of what it can do, andwhat it ought to do.
Whenever Eric came to the professor with any scientific inquiry, hereceived at once direction as to the best and most direct sources ofinformation; he would even, with the greatest disinterestedness, placeat the disposal of every one his own carefully prepared notes. It wasthe same to him whether it were published under his own name or underthat of another person, provided it went forth to the world.
In the professor's study was a picture by Rembrandt, a smallcopper-plate engraving, which was almost a portrait of the professorhimself. It represented Faust in his night-cap, gazing at the magiccircle illuminated by its own light. Faust is an old, wizzled-up littleman, sorely in need of the rejuvenating draught. Professor Einsiedelhad no such magic potion, but he drank new life, every day, from theancient classics.
When Eric now called upon him, to get help and advice, he found thegood old professor--living entirely alone, and troubled not so much bybeing alone, as by the necessity of taking care of life--in rather anodd plight. He regretted that Eric did not devote himself exclusivelyto science, but admitted also that Eric's natural tendency was to somepractical and personal activity. And with a smile, peculiarly his own,he said,--
"You are a well-formed man, and you ought to make money out of that,for it is worth something. Yes, yes, that will be a help."
Eric, in his restlessness and in his ardent desire not to be waiting,but to do something for himself, went the next day to the capital, forhe had heard from the antiquarian, that an elderly man who conducted avery respectable institute was about to retire, and wanted to transferit to good hands.
He came to the capital where he had lived as an officer many years,respected and without care. Several comrades in their uniform seemednot to know him; others bethought themselves after he had passed, andcalled out, "Ah, is it you? Good-morning!" and went on. He went throughthe capital, whe
re he was born, and where he felt at home, makinginquiries like a stranger; he hoped it would again seem familiar andhomelike to him, when he should go out into the streets from anestablished place of abode and a daily employment.
He was well received by the school-proprietor, and the conditions wereacceptable. The respect in which his parents were held was of greatadvantage to him here; but the necessity of adopting the oldregulations and methods made him hesitate. Without coming to anydefinite arrangement, he left the school-building.
He met now in one of the streets an old friend of his father, thepresent minister of education, who, stopping him, and inquiring abouthis mother and his own welfare, offered him the situation of custodianin the cabinet of antiquities, with the assurance that he should soonbe promoted to the directorship. Eric promised to take the matter intoconsideration.
Just as he left the minister, an oldish man, who had been waiting forhim under a house-porch, came up to him and greeted him in a veryfriendly manner. Eric could not call to mind who he was, and theman said that Eric had once done him a good turn in the house ofcorrection, and thanked him for it; he was now in a very good situationas servant of the chancellor, and with a half-sly, half-piousexpression of countenance, he offered to render Eric any service thatwas in his power.
Eric thanked him; he did not notice that many persons, who went by andrecognised him, regarded this companionship as very odd.
Now the comrade who had taken Eric's place, and had become an actualcaptain, came from parade; he took Eric with him to the militaryclub-house, and Eric was cheerful and lost all thought of the troublesof life. In the club-house there was much talk about Otto von Prankenand his marriage with a Creole worth many millions. Eric did notconsider it necessary to say that Manna was no Creole, and that he hadsome knowledge of how the matter really stood.
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