rO/pc fioVm u LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA RIVERSIDE '3^ ^ BV THE SAME AUTHOR DEGENERATION By MAX NORDAU 1)1 one Volume, demy 8vo. Price lys. net. Ninth Edition. The Times. — "His theory opens the door to a large amount of vigorous criticism upon the fashionable crazes of the day, much of which may be read with amusement, if not with complete conviction." W. L. Courtney in the Daily Telegraph. — "Dr. Max Nordau is always interesting, always grapliic in his descriptions, at once humorous and pathetic, grave and gay, and now and then full of valuable and important aper^its. . , . As a powerful antidote to mahy prevailing modes of thought, his book has a value which it is difficult to over-estimate." Tlu Daily Chronicle. — "Max Nordau's book, we are told, made a sensa- tion in Germany, and we do not wonder at it, for it is likely to make, if not a sensation, at least a great impression here. It is a powerful, trenchant attack on all the leading literary and artistic idols of the time by a man of great intellectual power, immense range of knowledge, and the possessor of a lucid style rare among German writers, and becoming rarer everywhere, owing to the very influences which Nordau attacks with such unsparing energy." The .Standard. — "The work is one that demands to be studied as a whole, and we are glad to welcome the s|)irited version published to-day. . . . But let no reader be deterred by the hard words scattered about these pages, nor any searcher after truth imagine that, as in some philosopliical works, he will be presented with a vocabulary when he asks for a demonstration. Not only do we find solid information and deep thinking, but we are drawn along by the rhetoric, the passion, and the humour. . . . We may derive unalloyed enjoyment from its graphic vigour and its moral earnestness." The World. — "From his astonishingly able and powerful diagnosis of certain e.isily-recognizable forms of literary and artistic morbidity, no com- petent observer can withhold a full measure of admiration and acquiescence. That the melancholy phenomena exhibited by the 'mystics' and 'symbolists,' the 'decadents' and the 'ego-maniacs' of latter-day literature and art have l)ccn due to some strange epidemic of mental declension, was evident to most thinking persons before Nordau turned tlie pitiless searchlight of his analytical genius upon the works of these several orders of art eccentrics." The .Saturday Kevir.u. — ''\W a {r:ink\y M\n\\\. that there is a large residuum of keen criticism and exposure of folly. We read the six hundred i)ages without finding one dull, sometimes in reluctant agreement, somelimes with amused content, sometimes with angry indignation. There is, and always will be, a foolish iliii/in- applauding each new eccentricily, unable lo dislinguisli, among the sensations of (he hour, the insi)iralions of genius. I'or these Max Nordau may serve as an excellent tonic, and so be justified of I he reputation this tnglish rendering will certainly bring him." LONDON: WlII.IAM IlKINKMANN, 21 BKUKOKn SlRliliT, W.C. /M' TITR S.IMJ^ AUTHOR CONVKNTIONAL LIES OF OUR CIVILIZATION By MAX NORDAU //; one Volume, demy %vo. Price 1 7 j. net. The Times [First notice]. — " This is neither a vulgar nor a scandalous book, and it well deserves to have its objects and its value impartially examined. . . . There is no doubt of the model which Dr. Nordau has, consciously or uncon- sciously, followed. His volume is undoubtedly one which Ronsseau might have written if he had lived a century later." The Times [Second notice], — "The author of Dei^eiieration has become known all over the world as a trenchant critic of the foibles and follies of the time. In Coiivctiliotial Lies of our Civilization he goes deeper, and frames an indictment against the whole of our modern social order — religious, political, economic, domestic." The Saturday A'ez'ie7c>. — ' ' Dr. Nordau has a deadly eye for the weak points in the system he is attacking ; he states the most unpleasant truths in the most biting style ; he throws his search-light on the solemn plausibilities of the world with a suddenness that must startle the most wooden-headed conventionalist." The Daily Chronicle. — "One cannot take up Dr. Nordau's book without feeling conscious of being brought into close contact with a mind of exceptional vigour, with an essentially truthful nature, with a master of powerful style, with a man of varied interests and wide l<.nowledge. We find all these qualities here as we find them in Degeneration. There is in Conventional Lies the verve, the same sweeping passion, the same trenchant, biting power, the same deep insight into real evils that have been widely recognized in Degeneration. The book is a fervid revolutionary protest in which much powerful political, economic, and social criticism is blended with the declamatory rhetoric of the Secularist and Socialist platforms." The Daily Telegraph. — "Full of vivacity and wit, and by its sweeping denunciations and the boldness with which it attacks the most sacred and delicate subjects, it enchains the attention." JUST PUBLISHED PARADOXES By MAX NORDAU In ofie Volume, demy %vo. Price 17s. ?iet. LONDON' : William Heinemann, 21 Bedford Street, W.C. The Malady of the Century BV THE SAME AUTHOR A COMEDY OF SENTIMENT r,Y MAX NORDAU In one Volume, c7-ozvn S?^c. Price 6s. The AtluncTuni. — " The manners and dialogue have a sHghtly unfamiliar foreign air, as might be expected, but they are evidently true to life. This short study of professional life in Berlin may be unsympathetic and even disagreeable, but it is certainly not without interest as a picture of temperaments and their environment." Tlie Daily News. — "The book is a searching and subtle analysis. Upon the Byronic passion, the De Musset senti- mentality, is let in the cold scrutiny of scientific observation. The results are set down deliberately and unfalteringly. It is all very interesting and profoundly painful." The Bookman. — "This is a clever novel." Black and iFhiic. — " Ma.x Nordau has admirable com- mand of language : his phraseology is bold and concise. The few actors in the comedy are vigorous and lifelike. Frau Ehrwein is a vastly clever study of a wholly insincere woman." The Glasgow Hcrahi. — " The book is clever, and the author luideniably keeps up our interest to the end." l.ONDO.\: WILLIAM HEINEMANN,2i Bedford St., W.C The Malady of the Century From the German of Max Nordau Author of " Degeneration," " Conventional Lies of our Civilization," " Paradoxes," etc. London William llciiicmann i8y6 A U rights reserved. COXl'ENTS Chapter Page I Mountain and Forest i // Vanity of Vanities 25 /// Heroes 43 / V It Zi'as not to be 65 V A Lay Sermon 88 VI An Idyll 108 /'// Symposium 126 VIII Dark Days 143 IX Results 170 X A Seaside Romance iy7 XI In the Hiirselherg 221 XII Tannhiiuser' s Flight 252 XIII Consummation 279 XIV Udeii Ilorizo 303 The Malady of the Century CHAPTER I MOUNTAIN AND FOREST '* Co.MK, you fellows, that's enough joking. This defection of yours, melancholy Mynhardt, combines obstinacy with wisdom, like Ualaam's ass! \\ cU I inay you rest in peace. And now let us be off." The glasses, filled with clear Ajjcntlhikr^ rang merrily together, the smiling landlord took up his money, and the company rose fioisily from the wooden bench, overturning it with a bang. The round table was only proof against a similar accident on account of its structure, which some one with wise forethought had so designed that only the most tremendous sliaking could upset its equilibrium, 'ihe boisterous group consisted of five or six young men, easily recognized as students by their caps with coloured bands, the scars on their faces, and their rather swaggering manner, 'i'hey slung their knapsacks on, stepped through the open door of the little arbour where they had been sitting, on to the high-road, and gathered round the previous speaker. I le was a tall, good- looking young man, with fair hair, laughing blue eyes, and a budding moustache. " Then you are determined, Eynhardt, that you won't go any further?" asked he, with an accetit which betrayed him as a Khinelander. " Yes, I am determined," I'lynhardt answered. " .\ groan for the wortliless fellow ; but more in sorrow than in anger," said the tall one to the others. They groaned three limes U 2 TIIK MAL.\li\ ol Tin: CKNTUKV loudly, all together, while the Rhinelander gravely beat time. An unpractised ear would very likely have failed to note the shade of feeling implied in the noise ; but he appeared satisfied. "Well, just as you like. No compulsion. Freedom is the best thing in life — including the freedom to do stupid things." " Perhaps he knows of some cave where he is going to turn hermit," said one of the group. "Or he has a little business appointment, and wc should be in the way," said another. They laughed, and the Rhinelander went on — "Well! moon away here, and wc will travel on. But before all things be true to yourself. Don't forget that the whole world is as much a phantom as the brown Black Forest maiden. And now farewell ; and think a great deal about us phantom-people, who will always keep up the ghost of a friendship for you." The young man whom he addressed shook him and the others by the hand, and they all lifted their caps with a loud " hurrah," and struck out vigorously on the road. The sentiment of the farewell, and the tender speeches, had been disposed of in the inn, so they now parted gaily, in youth's happy fulness of life and hope for the future, and without any of that secret melancholy which Time the immeasurable distils into every parting. Hardly had they turned their backs on the friend they left behind them when they began to sing, " Im Schwarzcn WalHsch zu Askalon," exaggerating the melancholy of the first half of the tune, and the gaiety of the second, passing riotously away behind a turn of the road, their song becoming fainter and fainter in the distance. This little scene, which took place on an August afternoon in the year 1869, had for its theatre the high-road leading from Hausach to Triberg, just at the place where a footpath de- scends into the valley to the little town of Hornberg. The persons represented were young men who had lately graduated at Heidelberg, and who were taking a holiday together in the Black Forest, recovering from the recent terrors of examination, in the fragrant air of the pine-woods. As far as Offenburg they had travelled by the railway in the i)rosaic fashion of commercial travellers, from there they had tramped like Canadian backwoods- men, and reached Hasslach — twelve miles as the crow flies. After resting for a day they set out at the first cockcrow, and before the noontide heat, reached the lovely Kinzigthal, which lies all along the way from Hausach to Hornberg. Over the door of a wayside inn a signboard, festooned with freshly-cut carpenter's shavings, beckoned invitingly to them, and here the MOUNTAIN AND FOREST 3 young men halted. The view from this place was particularly beautiful. The road made a kind of terrace half-way up the mountain, on one side rising sheer up for a hundred feet to its summit, thickly wooded all the way ; on the other side sloping to the wide valley, where the Gutach llowed, at times tumbling over rough stones, or again spreading itself softly like oil, through flat meadow-land. Below lay the little town of Hornberg, with its crooked streets and alleys, its stately square, framing an old church, several inns, and prosperous-looking houses and shops. Leyond the valley rose a high, steep hill, with a white path climb- ing in zigzags through its wooded sides. On the summit a white house with many windows was perched, seeming to hang perpen- dicularly a thousand feet above the valley. Its whitewashed walls stood out sharply against the background of green pine-trees, clearly visible for many miles round. A conspicuous inscription in large black letters showed that this audacious and picturesque house was the Sc/i/oss //o/c/, and a glance at the grey ruined tower which rose behind it gave at once a meaning to the name. behind the hill, with its outline softened by trees and encircled by the blue sky, were ridges of other hills in parallel lines meeting the horizon, alternately sharp-edged and rounded, stretching from north to south. They seemed like some great sea, with majestic wave-hills and wave-valleys ; behind the first appeared a second, then a third, then a fourth, as far as one's eye could see ; each one of a distinct tone of colour, and of all the shades from the deepest green Ihrougli blue and violet to vaporous pale grey. The sight of this picture had decided Wilhelm Eynhardt not to go any further. The others had resolved to push on to Triberg the same day, and above all, nut to turn back till tliey had bathetl in the Bodcn-sce. As every persuasion was powerless to alter I'lynhardt's decision, they separated, and the travellers started on their walk to Triberg. iCynhardt, however, stayed at Hornberg, meaning to climb to the Sciiloss hotel again from the otiier sitle. Wilhelm Eynhardt was a young man of four-and-twcnty, tall and slim of figure, with a strikingly handsome face. His eyes were almond-sliai^ed, not large but very dark, wilii much charm of expression. The finely-marked eyebrows served by their raven- blackness to emphasize the whiteness of tiie forehead, which was crowned by an abundant mass of curling black hair. His fresh complexion had still the blormi of early youth, and would hardly have betrayed his age, if it Iiad not been shaded by a dark brown silky beard, which had never known a razor. It was an entirely uncommon type, recalling in profile, Antinoils, and the full-face 4 Tin; MALADN ol Till; CICNTURY rcniiiiding one of the St. Sel)aslian of Guido Reni in the museuni of the Capitol; a face of the noblest manhood, without a single coarse feature. His manner, although quiet, gave the impression of keen enthusiasm, or more rightly speaking of unworldly inspir- ation. All who saw him were powerfully attracted, but half- unconsciously felt a slight doubt whether even so fine a specimen of manhood was quite fitly organized and equipped for the strife of existence. At the university he had been given tlie nickname of W'ilhclmina, on account of a certain gentleness and delicacy of manner, and because he neither drank nor smoked. Such jokes, not ill-natured, were directed against his outward appearance, but had a shade of meaning as regards his character. As Wilhelm walked into the courtyard of the Schloss hotel he stopped a moment to regain his breath. Before him was the stately new house, whose white-painted walls and many windows liad looked down on the high-road ; to the left stood the round tower enclosed within a ruined wall, shading an airy lattice-work building, in which on a raised wooden floor stood a table and some benches. Several people, evidently guests at the hotel, sat there drinking wine and beer, and eying the new-comer curiously. The burly landlord, in village-dress, emerged from the open door of the cellar in the tower, and wished him "good-day." He had a thick beard and a sunburnt face, with good-natured blue eyes. With a searching glance at the young man's cap and knapsack, he waited for ^^'ilhelm to speak. " Can I have a room looking on to the valley ? " asked the latter. '"Xot at this moment," the landlord answered, clearing his throat loudly; "there is hardly a room free here, and that only in the top storey. But to-morrow, or the day after, many people arc leaving, and then I can give you what you want." A\'ilhelm's face clouded with disappointment, but only for a moment, then he said, " Very well, I will stay." " Luggage ? " said the landlord, in his short, unceremonious way. " My luggage is at Haslach. It can come up to-morrow." " Bertha," called the landlord, in such a strident tone that the mountains echoed the sound. The visitors drinking in the kiosk smiled ; they were well accustomed to the man. A neat red- cheeked girl appeared in the doorway. "Number 47," shouted the landlord, and went oft" to his other duties. J'ertha led the new guest up three flights of uncarpeted wooden staircase, down a long passage to a light, clean, but sparely- furnished room. The girl told him the hours of meals, brought MOUNTAIN AND FOREST 5 some water, and left liim alone. He hung his knapsack on a hook on the wall, opened the little window, and gazed long at the view. Underneath was the open space where he had been stand- ing, to the left the tower, and behind, over the ruined walls, he could see the old, neglected castle yard full of weeds and heaps of rubbish — a picture of decay and desolation. " I have chosen well," thought Wilhelm, for he loved solitude, and promised himself enjoyable hours of wandering in the ruins in company with luxuriant flowers and singing birds. He barely gave himself time to freshen his face with cold water, and to change his thick walking shoes for lighter ones ; immediately hurrying out to make acquaintance with the castle. Before he could get there he had first to find in the tumble-down wall a hole large enough to enable him to get through. He shortly found himself in a fairly large square space, the uneven ground being formed of a mass of rubbish, mounds of earth, and deep holes. Woods protected the greater part of it, most of the trees stunted and choked by undergrowth and shrubs, with occa- sionally a high, solitary pine-tree, and near to the west and south walls half-withered oaks and mighty beeches stood thickly. Here and there from the bushes peeped up bare pieces of crumbling stone and broken pieces of mortar, in whose crevices hung long grasses, and where yellow, white, and red flowers nestled. Climb- ing, stumbling, and slipping, he worked his way through this wilderness, the length and breadth of which he wished to "inspect so as to discover a place where he could rest quietly, when he suddenly came to a precipitous fall of the ground, concealed from him by a thick curtain of leaves. Startled and taken by surjjrisc, the ground seemed to him to sink under his feet. He instinc- tively caught hold of some branches to keep himself from falling, pricking his hands with the thorns, and breaking a slender bough, finally rolling in company with dust and earth, torn-out bushes and stone, down a steep declivity of several feet to a little grass- plot at the bottom. He heard a slight scream near him, and a girlish form sprang up and cried in an anxious voice — '• Have you hurt yourself?" Wilhelm jiicked himself up as ([uickly as he could, brushed the earth from his clothes, and taking off his cap said, " Thanks, not much. Only a piece of awkwardness. Dul I am afraid I have frightened you ? " he added. "A little bit ; but that is all right." They looked at each other for the first time, and the lady laughed, while Wilhelm blushed deeply. She stopped again 6 Tin; .MALADY OF TIIK CKNTURV directly, bluslicd also, and drojipcd her eyes. She was a girl in ihc first bloom of youth, of jiarticularly fine and wcU-niade figure, with a beaulit'ul face; two dimples in her checks giving her a roguish expression, and a pair of lively brown eyes. A healthy colour was in her cheeks, and in the well-cut, seductive little mouth. Ilcr luxuriant, golden-brown hair, in the fashion of the day, was brushed back in long curls. She had as her only orna- ment a pale gold band in her hair, and wore a simple dress of light-dowered material, the high waist-band fitting close to the girlish figure. Conventionality began to assert its rights over nature, and the girl too felt confused at finding herself in the middle of a conversation with a strange man, suddenly shot down at her very feet. Wilhelni understood and shared her embarrass- ment, and bowing, he said — " As no doubt we are at the same house, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Wilhelm Eynhardt. I come from ]5crlin, and took up my abode an hour ago at the Schloss hotel." " From Berlin," said the girl quickly ; " then we are neighbours. That is very nice. And where do you live in Berlin, if I may ask ? ■' " In Dorotheenstrasse." " Of course you do," and a clear laugh deepened the shadow of her dimples. " Why ' of course ' ? " asked Wilhelm, rather surprised. " Why, because that is our Latin quarter, and as a student — you are a student, I suppose ? " " Yes, and no. In the German sense I am no longer a student, for I took my degree a year ago; but the word in English is better and truer, as there 'student' is used where we should say scholar (i^clc/iiicr). Scholars we aie, not only learners. In the English sense then I am a student, and hope to remain so all my life." "Ah, you speak English," she said, quickly catching at the word; "that is charming. I am tremendously fond of English, and am quite accustomed to it, as I spent a great part of my time in England when I was very young. I have been told that I have a slight English accent in speaking German. Do you think so?" " My ear is not expert enough for that," said \\ ilhelm, apologetically. " My friends," she chattered on, "nearly all speak French; but I think English is much more uncommon. Fluent English in a German is always proof of good education. Don't you think so?" MOUNTAIN AND FOREST 7 "Not always,"' said Wilhelm frankly; "it might happen that one had worked as a journeyman in America." The girl turned up her nose a little at this rather unkind observation, but Wilhelm went on — " With your leave I would rather keep to our mother-tongue. To speak in a foreign language with a fellow countrywoman with- out any necessity would be like acting a charade, and a very uncomfortable thing." " I think a charade is very amusing," she answered ; " but just as you like. Opportunities of speaking English are not far to seek. Most of the visitors at the hotel are English. I dare say you have noticed it already. But they are not the best sort. They are common city-people, who even drop their h's, but who play at being lords on the Continent. Of course I have learned already to tell a ' gentleman ' from a ' snob.' " Wilhelm smiled at the self conscious importance with which she spoke. His eyes wandered over her beautiful hair, to the tender curve of her slender neck and beautiful shoulders, while she, feeling perfectly secure again, settled herself comfortably. Her scat was a projecting piece of stone, which had been converted by a soft covering of moss into a delightful resting-place. An overhanging bush shaded it pleasantly. In front lay a corner of the castle; across a smooth piece of turf and through a wide gap in the wall they caught a view of the mountains, as if painted by some artist's brush — a perfect composition which would have put the crowning touch to his fame. The girl had been trying to make a sketch of the view in a well-worn sketch-book which lay near. " Vou have given a sufticient excuse for your sketches by your feeling for natural beauty," remarked Wilhelm. " May I look at the page ? ' "Oh," she said, somewhat confused, "my will is of the best, but I can do so little," and she hesitatingly gave him her album. He took it and also the pencil, looked alternately at the moun- tains and on the page of the book, and without asking leave began to improve upon it, strengthening a line here, lightening a shadow and giving greater breadth, and then growing deejjly interested in his work, he sat down without ceremony on the mossy bank, took a piece of india-rubber, and erasing lierc, adding lines there, sometimes laying in a shadow, giving strength to the foreground and lightness to the background, he ended by making a really pretty and artistic sketch. Tlic girl had watched him wonderingly, and said as he returned the album, " But you are a great artist," and without letting him 8 llli; MALA1)\- (M' TIIK CENTURY speak she went on, ''and l)y your appearance I had taken you for a student ! But you are not in the least hke a student, nor in fact hke a German either. I have often met Indian princes in society in London, and I think you are very much hke them." Williehii smiled. " There is a grain of truth in what you say, although you over-rate it a little. A great artist I certainly am not, nor even a little one, hut I have always observed much and painted a good deal myself, and originally I thought of devoting mysrlf to an artist's career; and if I have nothing in common with Indian princes, and am merely a plebeian German, I very likely have a drop of Indian blood in my vein.s." " Really," she said, with curiosity. "Yes, my mother was a Russian German living in Moscow, and whose father, a Thuringian, had married a Russian girl of gipsy descent. Through this grandmother, whom I never knew, 1 am related by remote genealogical descent to Indians. Rut you do not look like a German either, with your beautiful dark hair and eyebrows." She took this personal compliment in good part as she answered quickly — '' There is some reason for that too. Just as you have Indian, I have French blood in my veins. My father's mother was a Colonial, her maiden name was I)u fJinache." So they gossiped on like old acquaintances. Young and beautiful as they were, they found the deepest pleasure in one another, and the cold feeling of strangeness melted as by a charm. They were awakened to the consciousness that half-an-hour earlier, neither of them had an idea of the other's existence, by the a])pearance of a girl in the gap in the wall, who seemed very much surjfriscd at the sight of their evident intimacy. The young lady stood up rather hastily and went a few steps towards the new-comer, a servant-maid, who had brought a cloak for her mistress, and took charge of her album, sun-shade, and large straw- hat. "Is it so late already?" she said, with a naive surprise, which left no room for doubt even to \\'ilhelm's modesty. "Certainly, Fniulein," said the maid, pointing with her hand to the distant mountain, whose peaks were already clothed with the orange hue of twilight ; then she looked alternately at her young mistress and the strange gentleman, whose handsome face she inwardly noted. "Do you think of making any stay here ? " asked the young lady of Wilhelm, who followed slowly. >rOUXTAIX AND FOREST 9 "Yes, certainly," he answered at once. "Then we may become good friends. INTy parents will be glad to make your acquaintance. I did not tell you before that my father is Herr Ellrich." As Wilhelm merely bowed, without seeming to recognize the name, she said rather sharply, and slightly raising her voice — " I thought as you came from Berlin you would be sure to know my father's name — Councillor Ellrich, Vice-President of the ' Seehandlung.' " The name and title made very little impression on \\'ilhelm, but his politeness brought forth an "Ah ! " which satisfied Friiulein Ellrich. They left the ruins by an easy path which Wilhelm had not noticed before, and walked together to the entrance of the liotel, where she took leave of him by an inclination of her head. He betook himself to his room in a dream, and while he recalled to his mind the picture of her beautiful face, and the clear ring of her voice, he thought how grateful he was to this chance, that not only had he become acquainted with the girl, but that he had avoided in such a glorious fashion the discomfort of a formal introduction. Also AVilhelm knew himself well, and felt sure that, badly endowed as he was for forming new accpiaint- ances, he could never have become friends with Friiulein Ellrich aj)art from the accident of his f:ill in the castle yard. Dinner was served at separate tables where single guests might take it as they pleased, and Wilhelm was absent-minded and dreamy when he sat down. He scarcely glanced at the large, cool dining-room, ornamented with engravings of portraits of the (Irand Dukes of Daden and their wives. Siv large windows looked into the valley of the Gutach with its little town of Hornbcrg, and the mountains lying beyond. He hardly noticed tlie rather silent people at the other tables, in which the English clement predominated. He had come in purposely late in the hope of finding Friiulein ICUrich already there. She was not present ; but he was not kept long in suspense before a waiter opened the door, and the lovely girl ai)peared accompanied by a stately gentleman and a stout lady. They seemed to be known to the servants, for as soon as they appeared the head-waiter and his subordinates rushefl towards them, and with many bows and scrajjcs took their wraps from them and ushered them to their places. Wilhelm, who possessed very little knowledge of society, was somewhat at a loss. Ought he to recogni/c the young lady? if he folUjwed his inclination, he certainly would do so. I'.ut her 10 Tin- MALADY OF THE CENTURY l)arcnts ! 'They sccnicd to be cold and reserved-looking. Hapjjily all fell (uil for the best. The Ellrichs walked straight to the table where he was sitting, and in a moment Wilhclm was greeting his lovely acquaintance with a low bow. Her quick eyes had already recognized him from the doorway. She returned his greeting smiling and blushing, and as her father nodded kindly, the ice was broken. ^\'ilhehn introduced himself, and the Councillor gave him the tips of his fingers and said, " If you have no objection we will sit at your table." His wife, who gazed at Wilhclm through a gold " pince-nez " with hardly concealed surprise, took her place next to him; on the other side sat her husband, and opposite the daughter's face smiled at him. The Councillor was a well-preserved man of about fifty, of good height, dressed in a well-made grey travelling suit, with a light grey silk tie adorned with a pin of black pearl. His closely- cut hair was very thin, and had almost disai)peared from the top of his head. His chin was clean-shaven, but his well-brushed whiskers and closely-cut moustache showed signs of grey. His light blue eyes were cold and rather tired-looking, at the corners of the mouth were evident signs of indolence, and his whole appearance gave an impression of self-consciousness mixed with indifference towards the rest of mankind ; his wife, stout, blooming, and trancpiil, appeared to be a kindly soul. The conversation opened trivially on the circumstances of ^^'ilhelm meeting with Friiulein Ellrich, and on the beauty of the neighbourhood, which Herr EUrich glorified as not being over-run. " I would much rather recommend it for quiet than Switzerland with its crowds," he said. Wilhelm agreed with him, and related h.ow he was induced by the romantic aspect of the place to give up his original })lans, and to anchor himself here. When they questioned him, he gave them some information about Heidelberg and his journey to Hornbcrg. Frau Ellrich complimented him on his sketch, and while he modestly disclaimed the praise, she asked him why he had not devoted himself to art. "That is a peculiar result of my development," answered Wilhelm thoughtfully. "While I was still at the gymnasium I sketched and painted hard, and after the final examination I went to the Art Academy for two years; but the further I went into the study of art, and the more attentively 1 followed in the beaten track of art studies, the clearer it was to me that he who would secure an abiding success in art must be a blind copyist of nature. Certainly the personal peculiarities of an artist often MOUNTAIN AND FOREST II please his contemporaries. It is the fashion to do him honour if he flatters the prevaiHng direction of taste. lUit those of the race who follow after, scorn what those before them have admired, and exactly what those of one time have prized as progressive innovations, they who come after reject as mere aberration. ■What the artist has himself accomjflished, I mean his so-called personal comprehension or his capricious interpretation of nature, passes away ; but what he simply and honourably reproduces, as he has truly seen it, lives for ever, and the remotest age will gladly recognize in such art-work its old acquaintance, unchanging nature." Fraulein Ellrich hung on his words in astonishment, while her parents calmly went on eating their fish. " So," went on ^\'ilhelm, speaking chiefly to his opposite neighbour, " so, I tried when I drew or painted to reproduce nature with the greatest truth ; but at a certain point I became conscious of a perception that a hidden meaning in an unin- telligible language lay written there. The form of things, and also every so-called accident of form, appeared to me to be the necessary expression of something within, which was hidden from me. The wish arose in mc to penetrate behind the visible face of nature, to know why she ai)pears in such a way, and not in another. I wanted to learn the language, the words of which, with no understanding of their sense, I had been slavishly copying; and so I turned to the study of jjhysical science." "So your two years at the Art School were not wasted," remarked Ilcrr Ellrich. " Certainly not, for to an observer of natural objects it is most valuable to have a trained eye for form and colour." " Yes, and besides, drawing and i)ainting arc such charming accomijlishments, and so useful to a young man in society." " J'laying the piano and singing are still mure so," put in Frau Ellrich. "But dancing most of all," cried Fraulein F.lliicrlin, she discovered that she was really a Russian, and always wished she were back in Moscow, never feeling at home amid her new surroundings. i6 THE ^[ALAnv oi" T[ii-: cknturv She was a Protestant like her father, but had inherited from lier Russian mother a lingering atfection for the orthodox faith, and she often used to go to the dolden Chureh of the Kremlin, whose brown, holy images had a mystical effect on her. She loved to sing gipsy songs in a low voice. She would not teach them to us. She was always very (juiet, and preferred being alone with us to any society or entertainment." ^\'hen ^Vilhelm was four years old there came a little sister, a bright, light-haired, blue-eyed creature after her father's heart. Slie was named Luise, but she was always called Blondchen. She was his only [)layfellow, as the irritable father in Moscow cared for no acquaintances. His father's one wish was to return to his home, but for a long time the mother would not have it so. At last, in the year 1S58, he accomplished his wish. He was then sixty-three years old, and he represented to his wife that after his life of unremitting work, now in its undoubted decline he had a right to spend the last few years in peace in his native land. He possessed enough for his family to live on ; the children would grow and get a better education than in Russia, and above all he wished to keep his Prussian nationality. The mother yielded, and so they came to Berlin, where the father bought a modest house near the P"riedrich-\\'ilhelm gymnasium. This house was now AN'ilhelm's property. " We children liked Berlin very much. I soon became independent and self-reliant, after school hours wandering in the streets as much as I pleased, and used to make eager explorations in all directions, coming home enraptured when I had found a beautiful neighbourhood, a stately house, a statue of some general in bronze or marble. I used to take Blondchen by the hand, and show her my discovery. '^I'he P'riedrichstadt with its straight streets interested us very much ; I had a fancy that the houses were marshalled in battalions, as if by an officer on l)arade, and that when he gave the word ' March,' they would suddenly walk away in step, like the soldiers on the parade ground. I explained this to my sister, and often when we were in our own street, she would call out ' March ! ' to see if the long row of houses would not begin to move. However, we liked the old part of Berlin better, where the streets, with their capricious and serpent-like windings, reminded us of the crooked alleys of Moscow. The streamlets of the Spree exercised a powerful attraction over us. Blondchen thought they played hide-and-seek with children, who would run through the streets to search for them. They came suddenly into sight where one would least expect to see them, in the yard of a house in the W'erderschen Market, behind MOUNTAIN AND FOREST 1 7 an apparently innocent archway on the Hausvogtei Platz, at the backs of houses whose fronts betrayed no existence of any water near. My sister so often longed to catch sight of the oily satiny sheen of the river's light in unsuspected places, that she would drag me ofif to note her discoveries. She wanted all the varying sights of the Spree, which showed itself at the ends of alleys, or in courtyards or behuid houses, suddenly to appear to her, so that she might have the right to first name her discovery." He was silent awhile, deep in memories of the past. Then he said — " If I have lingered over these childish reminiscences it is because I have not my Elondchen any longer. On one of our wandering excursions we were caught in a heavy shower of rain, and became wet through. My sister was taken ill with rheu- matism, and eight days afterwards we buried her in the churchyard." The mother soon followed TJlondchen. Sorrow over the child, and home-sickness, combined with weak health, proved too great a strain. AN'ilhelm remained alone with the dispirited and sorrowful old father, whom he never left except for his three years' military service in the field. Then the father, to shorten the time of separation, accompanied the army (in spite of his seventy years) as an ambulance assistant. The following year he died, and Wilhelm was left alone in the world. Loulou was not wanting in heart, and she had as much feeling as it is proper for an educated German girl to show. By an involuntary movement, she held out her hand, which ^Vilhelm caught and kissed. They both grew very red, and she looked wistfully at him with her eyes wet. Had he understood the look, and been of a bold nature, he would have clasped the girl to his breast and kissed her. Her red lips would have made scarcely any resistance, ikit the confusion of mind passed quickly, the light afternoon sunshine and the sight of the people passing through the breach in the castle wall brought him to full con- sciousness, and the dangerous step was not taken. T.oulou recovered her sprightHness, and going back to his story asked him, " So you have been in a campaign ? " " Certainly." *' Did you become an officer?" " Xo, l-'riiulein, only a * vize-l-'eldwebel.' " " I lave you fought in a battle ? " " Oh yes, at lUirkersdork, Skalilz, K()nigiiihof, and Kiiniggratz." "Th.it must have been friglilfiilly interesting. And have you ever killed one of the enemy?" c l8 Till' \I\l.AnV OF THE CENTURY " Happily not. It docs not fall to the lot of every soldier to kill a man. He docs his duty if he stands up in his place ready to be killed." " Have you any photographs of yourself in uniform ? " He looked at her surprised and said — "No, why?" A roguish smile, which at the last question had curled at the corners of her mouth, broke into a merry laugh. " I wanted to know whether you marched into battle with your curls, or whether you sacrificed them to the fatherland ? " Wilhelm was not offended, but said simply — " Dear young lady, appearances give you the right to make fun " "Ah, don't be angry, I am ill-mannered." " No, no, you are cjuite right ; but, believe me, I only wear my hair long so as to save myself the trouble of going to the hair- dresser's. If I dared imagine that I should be less insupportable with a tonsure " "For heaven's sake, don't think of it, the curls suit you very well." She said this with a frivolity of manner which she im- mediately perceived to be unsuitable, and to get over her embarrassment, she jumped at another subject of conversation. "So you live quite alone? That strikes me as being very dreary. Still you must have many friends?" " Yes, so-called friends — comrades from the gymnasium, from the academy, and the university. But I do not count much on these superficial accjuaintances — I have really only one friend." "Who is he?" " He is called Paul Haber, and is Assistant of Chemistry at Ihe Agricultural College." " A nice man ? " "Oh, yes." " How old is he ? " "About a year older than I am," "What is he like?" Wilhelm smiled. " I believe he is very good-looking, strong, not very tall, with a fair moustache, otherwise closely shaved, and with short hair, not like me! He thinks a good deal of appearance, and always knows what sort of ties are worn. He dances well, and is very pleased if people take him for an officer in civilian's clothes. But he is a true soul, and has a heart of gold. He is clever too. MOUNTAIN' AND FOREST 1 9 practical, and would do for me as much as I would do for him with all my heart." " Hardly one unpleasant word for an absent friend. That is scarcely as my friends sp::ak of me," and she quietly added, " nor as I speak of my friends. Vou make me curious about Herr " " Haber." " You must introduce liim to us" " He would be most happy." Loulou now knew more about Wilhclm than she had hitherto known of any man in the world. Only on one point was she unenlightened, and this she hastened to clear up on the following day, when they were looking for berries in the wood. " You asked me if my heart had been touched yet. Would it be right if I were to ask you the same (juestion ? " "The question seems very natural to me — I can truthfully assure you I have never been in love, not even with a pastor with long hair." " .Vnd has no one been in love with you ? " Wilhclm looked at the distance, and said dreamily — •' No ; yet once " She felt a little stab at her heart, and said — "Quick, tell me about it." " It is a wonderful story — it happened in Moscow." " Hut you were only a child then ? " " ^'es, and she who loved me was a child too. She was four years old." "Ah," said Loulou, with an involuntary sigh of relief " When I was about ten years old I was sitting one sunny autumn afternoon in the yard of our house on a little stool, and was deep in a story of pirates. Suddenly a shadow fell on my book. I looked up, and saw a wonderfully beautiful child before me, a long-haired, rosy-checked littL- girl, who looked at me willi di-cp shining eyes half-tiiiiidly, and shyly held her hand before her mouth. I smiled in a friendly way, and called to her to come nearer. She sprang close to me, at once threw her arms jf)yfully round my neck, kissed me, sat down on my knee, and said, ' Now tell me what your name is. I am a little girl, and my name is Sonia. I am not going away from you. Let me go to sleep for a little.' An old servant who had followed her came up and said in astonishment, ' Well, young sir, you may be i)ruud of yourself, the child is generally so wild and rough, and with you she is as lame as a kitten.' I learnt from her that lillle Sonia lived in the neighbourhood, and that her aunt hail come to lo(jk 20 'iiii. ^IALAl>^■ (»!■ nil, ( i:.\tui;v for her in our house. Slie would not go away from me, and the old servant had to call her mother, who only persuaded her to return home with great difficulty. She wanted to take me with her, and she was miserable when they told her that my mamma would not allow me. The next morning early she was there again, and called to me from the threshold, ' I am going to stay with you all day, Wilhelm, the whole day.' I had to go to school, however, and I told her so. She wanted to go with me, and cried and sobbed when they prevented her. Then her relations took her home, and I did not see her again. Later 1 heard that the same afternoon she was taken ill with diphtheria, and in her illness she cried so much for me that her mother came to mine to beg her to send me to her. ]\ly mother said nothing to me about it, fearing I might catch the disease. Sonia died the second day, and my name was the last word on her lips. I cried very mucii when they told me, and since then I have never forgotten my little Sonia." "A strange story," said Loulou softly; "such a little girl to fall in love so suddenly. Yes," she went on, "if she had grown up " She could not say more, as Wilhelm, who had come near her, looked at her with wide-open, far-seeing eyes, and suddenly threw his arms round her. She cried out softly, and sank on his breast. " Loulou," " Wilhelm," was all they said. It had happened so quickly, so unconsciously, that they both felt as if they were awaking from a dream, as Loulou a minute later freed herself from his burning lip.s and encircling arms, and AVilhelm, confused and hardly master of his senses, stood before her. They turned silently homewards. She trembled all over and did not dare to take his arm. He inwardly reproached himself, yet he felt very happy in spite of it. 'J1ien, before they had reached the summit of the c.istle hill, he gathered all his courage together and said anxiously — "Can you forgive me, Loulou? I love you so much." "I love you too, Wilhelm," she answered, and stretched out her hand to him. " Dare 1 speak to your mother, my own Loulou ? " whis]iered he into her car. " Not here, Wilhelm," she said quickly, " not here. You do not know my parents well enough yet. Wait till we are in Berlin." " I will do as you like," sighed he, and took leave of her with an eloquent glance, as they reached the hotel. MOUNTAIN AND FOREST 21 On this evening a (quantity of curious thiuL^s happened, whicli Wilhehn so far had not observed in spite of his studies in natural science. He could not touch liis dinner, and Herr and Frau Ellricli's voices, against all the laws of acoustics, seemed to come from the far distance, and several minutes elapsed before the sounds reached his ears, although he sat close to the speakers. The waiters and hotel-guests looked odd, and seemed to swim in a kind of rosy twilight. In the sky there seemed to be three times as many stars as usual. ^Vhen the Ellrichs had withdrawn he went towards midnight alone into the fir-woods, and heard unknown birds sing, caught strange and magic harmonies in the rustling of the branches, and felt as if he walked on air. He went to bed in the grey of early dawn, after writing from his overflowing heart the following letter to his friend Haber in Uerlin :— " Mv Dt-ARiiST Paul, " I am happy as I never thought of being happy. I love an unspeakably beautiful sweet brown maiden, and I really think she loves me too. Do not ask me to describe her. No words or brush could do it. You will see her and worship her. Oh, Paul, I could shout and jump or cry like a child. It is too fooh'sh, and yet so unspeakably splendid. I can hardly under- stand how the dull, stupid peoi)le in this house can sleep so inditTerently while she is under the same roof. If only you were here ! I can hardly bear my happiness alone. I write this in great haste. Always your " WlI.HEL.M." lour days later the post brought this answer from his friend : — "Well, you are done for, that is certain, my dear Wilheliu. Confound it, you have gone in for it with a vengeance 1 I always thought that when you did catch fire, )ou would give no end of a blaze. So all your philosophy of abnegation, all your contempt for ajjpearance go for nothing. AVhat is your sweet brown maiden but a charming appearance I Nevertheless you have fallen com- pletely in love with her, for which I wish you happiness with all my heart. I do not doubt that she loves you, because I should have been in love with you long ago if I had been a sweet brown maiden, you shockingly beautiful man. One thing is very like you ; you say no word on what would most interest a Philistine like myself, viz, the worldly c ircumstances of the adored one. I must know her name, her relations, her descent. I'or all this you 22 Till'. M Al.AhN uF TllK CLNTL'UV have naturally no curiosity. A name is smoke and empty sound. Now don"t let your love go too far — sleep, and take care of your appetite, and keep a corner in your perilously full heart for your true "Paul." Wilhehn smiled as he read tlicse lines in the strong symmetrical handwriting of his friend, and hastened to send him the news he desired. In the meanwhile his happiness was continual and increasing, and nothing troubled it but the thought of the coming separation. Tiiese two innocent children could hide their love as little as the sun his light. They were always together, their eyes always fixed on one another, their hands as often as possible clasped in each other's. All the people in the hotel noticed it, and were pleased about it, so natural did it seem that this hand- some couple should be united by love. The chamber-maid, rosy Bertha, saw what was going on with her sly peasant's eye, and by way of making herself agreeable used to whisper to him where he could find the young lady when she happened to meet him on the staircase. Wilhehn good-naturedly forgave the girl her obtrusiveness. Only Herr Ellrich saw nothing. In his foreign newspapers, in the blue smoke from his cigars, in the clouds of ])Owder from his gun, he found nothing which could enlighten him as to the two young people's beautiful secret. Frau l{,llrich certainly had more knowledge than that. In spite of her correspondence and her long afternoon naps, she retained enough observation to see the condition of things pretty clearly. She waited for a confession from Loulou, and as this did not come soon enough for the impatience of her mother's heart, she tried a loving question. After a warm embrace from the girl, a few tears, a great many kisses, the mother and daughter under- stood each other. Wilhehn had pleased Frau Ellrich very much, and she had no objection to raise, but she could make no answer on her own responsibility, as she knew the views of her husband on the marriage of his only child, and after a few days she made him a cautious communication. Herr Ellrich did not take it badly, but as a practical man of the world he wished to give the feelings of the young people opportunity to bear the trials of separation, and for the present thought a decision useless. The j^rojected visit to Ostend was hastened by some ten days. At dinner he made his decision known, adding, "You have pleased yourselves for three weeks, and now I want you to wait so long to jjlease me." ^\^ilhelm felt bitterly grieved that no one invited him to go to MOUNTAIN AM) FOREST 23 the fiishionable watering-place, and Loulou even did not seem particularly miserable. The fact was, that at the bottom of her not very sentimental nature, she did not take the leaving of the Schloss hotel as a matter of great importance, and Ostend with its balls and concerts, its casino and lively society, was not in the least alarming to her. She found the opportunity that evening of consoling Wilhelm, and promised him always to think about him, and to write to him very often, and said she could not be very miserable about their separation, as she felt so happy at the thought of meeting him again in Berlin. The following morning they made a pilgrimage to the castle, the woods, the neighbouring valley, to all the places where they had been so happy during the last fortnight. The sky was blue, the pine-woods quiet, the air balmy, and the beautiful outline of the mountains unfolded itself far away in the depth of the horizon. A\'ilhelm drank in the quiet, lovely picture, and felt that a piece of his life was woven into this harmony of nature, and that these surroundings had become part of his innermost "ego," and would be mingled with his dearest feelings now and ever. His love, and these mountains and valleys, and Loulou, the mist and perfume of the pine-trees, were for ever one, and the i)antheistic devotion which he felt in these changing flights of his mind with the soul of nature grew to an almost unspeakable emotion, as he said in a trembling voice to Loulou - "It is all so wonderful, the mountains and the woods, and the summer-time and our love. .\nd in a nioment it will be gone. Shall we ever be so happy again? If we could only stay here always, the same people in the midst of the same nature : " She said nothing, but let him lake her answer from her fresh lips. They left by the Offenljcrg railway-station in the afternoon. Loulou's eyes were wet. I-'rau l^lirich smiled in a motherly way at Wilhelm, and Hcrr Kllrich took his hand in a friendly manner and said — "We shall see you in iJLrlin at tlic end (jf September." As the train disa])pcarcd down the Gutach valley, it seemed to ^Vilhclm as if all the liglit of heaven had gone out, and the world had become empty. lie stayed a few days longer at the Schloss hotel, and cherished the remembrance of his time thcr<' with lx)uIou, dreaming for liours in the dearly-loved spots. In this fender frame of mind he received another letter from I'anl I iihcr, wIk) wrote thus : — 24 Till'; MA1.A1)\' OK Till-; Ci;\TURY " Dearest Wii.helm, "Your letter of the 13II1 astonislicd me so much that il took me several days to recover. l-Viiulein Loulou Kllrich, and you write so lightly ! Don't you know that Friiulein ICllricli is one of the first 'parties' in Berlin? That the little god of love will make you a present of two nullion thalers? You have shot your bird, and 1 am most happy that for once fortune should bring it to the hand of a fellow like yourself. In the hope that as a millionaire you will still be the same to me, I am your heartily congratulatory "Paul." Wilhelm was painfully surprised. What a mercy that the letter had not come sooner. It might have influenced his manner so much as to spoil his relations with Loulou. Now that the Ellrichs were gone, it could for the moment do no harm. CI I APT KR II VANITV OF VANITIES A IJRILLIAXT company filled the Ellrichs' drawing-rooms. Tiiese lofiy rooms, thrown open to the guests, were more like the reception rooms in a great castle than those of a l>ourgcois town- house in Berlin. The Councillor's drawing-rooms occupied the first floor of the largest house in the Lennestrasse. The carpeted staircase was decorated with i)lants and candelabra, and the guests were shown into a well-lighted ante-room, and on through folding tloors into the large square drawing-room. The walls were covered with gold- framed mirrors reflecting the great marble stove, with its Chinese bron/e ornaments ; the Venetian glass chandelier, the painting on the ceiling representing Apollo in his sun-chariot, while the rows of pretty gilt chairs in red silk, the palm-trees in the corner, and the wax candles in the brass sconces on the walls were repeated in endless perspective. On the right was a little room not intended for dancing, thickly carpeted, with old (jobelin tapestry on all the walls and doors ; inlaid tables, ebony tables, and silk, satin, and tapestry in every conceivable form. A glass door, half covered by :i por/i'crc, gave a glimpse into a well-lighted winter garden, full of fantastic plants in beds, bushes and pots. On the left of the large drawing-room was the dining-room, with white varnished walls divided into scpiares by gold beading, and decorated by a number of bright pictures of symbolic female figures representing various kinds of wine. A gigantic porcelain stove filled one end of the room, and a sideboard the other. Through the dining-room was a smoking-room furnished with Smyrna carpels, low divans, chairs in mother-of-pearl, and from the ceiling hung a number of coloured glass lanterns. 'Ihis was intended for old gentlemen who wished to enjoy the latest 25 26 rill M \l..\il^ ni vwv. ckntukv scandal, and a rard-lablc was arranged for thcni witli an open box of cigars. The decoration of these rooms was liandsome without being over-loaded, and tasteful without l)eing odd or obtrusive, (junlities which one does not often fuid in CIcrmany, even in i)rinces' palaces. A fine perception would jjcrhaps have felt the want of similarity in style in the numerous rooms, giving them the char- acter of a museum or curiosity-shop, rather than that of the harmonious dwelling of educated i)eople of a particular period, and in a certain country. Hcrr EUrich was, however, quite innocent of this imperfection. He had not chosen anything himself. Everything had come from Paris, and was the selection of a Parisian decorator, and one of the proudest moments in the Councillor's life was on the occasion of the ball he gave on his daughter's return from England, when Count Penedetti, the French Ambassador, said to him, "One would imagine oneself in an historical house in the Faubourg St. Germain, c'es^ tout a fait Parisien^ Monsicitr, tout a fait ParisicJi.'" The Ellrichs' party was to celebrate the New Year. Even the richest of the members of the German bourgeoisie is obliged to ])e educated gradually to the cultured usages of society, and are still far from accomj^lished in the art of easy familiarity. It finds in its homely culture no hard-and-fast traditions by which it can regulate its conduct, and by a deficiency of observation, or by the want of development of the finer feelings, is only imperfectly helped by foreign or aristocratic manners. Herr Ellrich, who loved splendour and exjoense, felt that the New Year must be celebrated by rejoicings, and he had therefore invited his whole circle of acquaintances to this New Year's party to rejoice with him. In the third room the Councillor's wife sat near the fireplace in a claret-coloured silk dress, ostrich feathers in her hair, and re- splendent with diamonds. Nevertheless there was nothing stiff in her demeanour, and she was friendly and good-natured as ever. Grouped around her in arm-chairs were several ladies, who in their own judgment had ])assed the age of dancing. Amongst them were the wives of civil officers, in whose dresses a practised and capable eye might detect a simplicity and old-fashioned taste, while the wives of certain financiers were gorgeous in their fashion- able costumes and the brilliancy of their ornaments. 'J'hc former felt compensated by the consciousness of their rank and worth for any deficiency in mere outward signs of grandeur, the latter tried by the glitter of their pearls, diamonds, silks, and laces to VAXITV OF \ AXITIES 2/ appear easy and fearlessly familiar. Amongst the men, the soldiers had everything in their favour. The Orders which the civilians wore fastened on the lapels of their dress coats were hopelessly thrown in the shade by the epaulettes of the officers, and the medals decorating their coloured uniforms. Herr Ellrich made a good host, passing quickly but quietly from one group to another. His bright blue eyes were cold and tired-looking as ever, and took no i)art in the rather banal smile which played over his lips, as if the accustomed expression of indifference could never be obliterated. The indolent lines about his mouth were not those of temijerament, because if he spoke to a Finance Minister or other notability, although there was no arrogance in his manner, it might be noticed that the instinctive consciousness of his own millions never left him. He had a naturally honourable disposition, which showed itself in every line, and made any cringing an impossibility. The guests praised everything, especially the costly refreshments handed by the servants in faultless liveries. 'I'he dancing-room was a cheerful sight, (lirls and young married women flew round over the polished floor on the arms of well dressed men, mostly officers, spinning and whirling round to Otilenbach's dance music, led with bacchanalian fire by a small but distinguished conductor from a red covered platform. It was exciting to watch the rows of couples as they waltzed wiklly round, and to the da/zled sight it seemed like a glimpse in a dream into Mohammed's i'aradise; as if in his wonderful mirror he had reflected the slim figures of the dancers, with their flashing blue or black eyes, their burning cheeks, their parted li])s, their bosoms rising and falling, the scene moving in ever-changing perspective; a sigiit gay and wonderful as the freakish games of a crowd of elves. The untiring energy of the dancers was wonderful. 1 )uring the l)aiises a girl could hardly sit for a moment to rest, but a strong arm would whirl her away again in the vortex of the dance. A few old gentlemen stood in the recesses of the windows ami in the doorways, with the fjuiet enjoyment of those who look on, and amongst them was Wilhelm ICynhardt. lie stood with his back against a window-frame, almost enveloped in the flowing red silk roudIy and gaily. His short hair was beautifully cut and brushed, his thick blonde moustache curled in the most approved fashion. In his button-hole he wore the decoration of the 1866 war medal, and when he saw himself in the glass he could say with perfect self-satisfaction, that he looked just as nuich like an officer as the men in uniform, not even excejjting those of the (hiard. Since tb.c cami)aign of 1866, in which Paul had served in the same company as Wilhelm, they had been firm friends, and on this evening he wished to offer his respects, before the manifest possessor of her heart, to one of the greatest heiresses in Pcrlin, also his gratitude for his introduction to this splendid liouse, and his tender fccHngs for his comrade. In spile of being occu|)ied with his partners he had time to observe Wilhelm, and the sight of him standing alone in the window recess immediately cooled tlie nervous excitement wrr)Ught by the crowd of strangers. These society gatherings were what he delighted in, and he 30 TIIK MAI.ADV OF THE CENTURY tliouglit it his duty to try to model his friend in the same way. It was not without a struggle with himself that he let a dance go by and went over to where Wilhclm stood. " What a great jnty it is th.U you don't dance." " Friiulein Ellrich has just said the same thing," answered Wilhelm, smiling a little. " And she is cjuite right. You arc like a thirsty man beside a delicious spring, and are not able to drink. It is pure Tantalus." "Your analogy does not hold good. What I am looking at does not give me the sensation of a delicious spring, and does not make me thirsty." Paul looked at him surprised. " Still you are a man of flesh and blood, and the sight of all these charming girls must give you pleasure." " You know I am engaged to only one girl here, and her I have seen under more favourable circumstances." " Well ! She probably does not always wear such beautiful dresses, and if she were not excited by the music and dancing her eyes might possibly not sparkle so much; that is what I mean about its being a pity that you don't dance." " That is not it. I have seen tliis beautiful girl on other occasions engaged in the highest intellectual occupation, and I am sorry to see her sink to this sort of thing." " Now the difference is defined. I was silly enough till now to think that even in a drawing-room one saw something of the highest form of humanity, and that aristocratic society is the flower of civilization." " Those are opinions which are spread by clever men of the world to excuse their shallow behaviour in their own eyes and in the eyes of others. What these people come here for is to satisfy their lower inclinations — you must see this for yourself; if you do not allow yourself to be influenced by these pretentious, ceremonious forms, at least try to discover the reality that lies beneath them. What you call the height of civilization seems to ine the lowest. Do you understand? I feel that cultured people in their drawing-room society are in the condition of savages, and even allied to animals." " Bravo, Wilhelm! go on; this is most edifying." "You may jeer, but in spite of you I believe that this is so. Try to discover what is going on in the brains of all these people at this moment. Their highest power of activity of mind, wliich makes men of them, slumbers. They do not think, they only feel. The old gentlemen enjoy themselves with cigars, ices, the pro- VANITY OF VANITIES 3 1 spect of supper ; the young men seek pleasant sensations in dancing with beautiful girls. The ladies seek in their partners and admirers to kindle feelings and desires — vanity, self-seeking, pleasure of the senses, gratification of the palate, in short, all the grosser tastes. All that is not only like savages, but like animals. They are merry and contented at the prospect of a savoury meal, and they are fond of playing tricks on each other — both sexes chaff and tease constantly. I beUeve that the development of our larger brain is the intellectual work of man during hundreds and thousands of years, and it would gratify me to see it raised to a still greater state of activity." " I am listening to you so quietly, that I don't interrupt you — even when you talk absurd nonsense. How can one look doleful and disagreeable if honest, highly constituted men indulge in conversation with each other for a few hours after hard work ? I delight in this harmless enjoyment, in wliich people forget all the cares of the day. Here people sliake off the burden of their vocation and the accidents of their lot. Here am I, a poor devil enjoying the society of the Minister's friends, and admiring the same beautiful eyes as he does." " The harmless enjoyments of which you speak are exactly the signs by which one may recognize the vegetative lives of the savage and the animal. A serene enjoyment is what naturally appertains to the lower forms of life when they are satiated, and in no danger of being tracked for their lives. The oldest drawings on the subject always represent men with a foolish serene smile. So the privilege of developed man is to rejoice in a satisfied stomach and untroubled security, and all through his life to know no other care or want but comfort of body." " At last I understand you. The artist's ideal is tlie * Pcn- scroso,' and in order to recogni/e the highly developed man he must be furnished with a proof of his identity, so that the meaning of the creature may not be lost to sight for a moment." *' You may put it in the joking way, but I really mean it. I don't forget how much of the animal is still -in us. C)f course one wants relaxation. 15ut I don't want to l(j()k on while animals feed. Recovery after hard intellectual work means, in your sense, the return for some hours to animal life. Now I prefer the j)ain- ful ascent of mankind to the comfortable, backward slide into animal nature. If I wished to pose as a statue for you it would have to be ' I'cnseroso' while eating or drinking, or with a foolish, smiling mask indicating animal contentment.' " Very Well. I.ct us also abolisli the pujjlic announcement of 32 Tin: MAi.Anv or the cf.ntuuv eating, drinking, dancing and other performances, as the remnants of barbarism or of original animal nature, and let us introduce the universal duty of philosophy. A soiree of Derlin bankers — sub specie aeteniHatis — that would do very well, and you must take out a patent for it." "Students' jokes, my friend, are not arguments. I am quite in earnest in what I s;iy, and I feel melancholy when I see i^oulou and the others playing about like thoughtless animals," '' I am going to speak seriously about the joke now, and show you another side to the question. Is it not in the highest degree foolish of a young man without position, to set against him men who carry the sign of recognition from their king, and the esteem of their fellow-citizens? Cannot the examj)lc of the consideration they enjoy spur us to endeavours to attain the same? Cannot your acquaintance with them be made useful?" Wilhelm shook his head. "No, I prefer all these distinguislied men when they are doing their own work. They do not interest me here, because they have laid aside all the characteristics which make distinguished people of them. I think they lower their dignity when I see these statesmen, heroes of campaign, repre- sentatives of the people, laughing, joking, and playing together like any little shopkeeper after closing hours." Paul could not give an immediate answer, and he had not time to think of one; as the music stopped the dance ended, and many people moved towards them, making further conversation impossible. The gentlemen came out of the drawing-room and smoking-rooms and mingled with the dancers. ]*aul made his way neatly through the crowd towards a fresh, pretty, but other- wise insignificant-looking girl, to whom he had paid a great deal of attention, and with whom he wished to dance again. Wilhelm looked for i.oulou, whom he found near her mother. I'Vau Ellrich spoke to him in a friendly way. "Are you enjoying your- self?" she asked, with a kind, almost tender expression on her melancholy face. Wilhelm would not have grieved her for worlds, so for all answer he took her soft hand and kissed it. To keep himself from speaking the truth he was silent. From the four doors of the room servants now appeared bearing large silver trays covered with glasses of champagne. Loulou stood by the chimney-piece and gave several forced and absent-minded answers to the young man. She followed with her eyes the minute-hand on the clock, and at a slight sign from her little hand a servant came up to her. She took the glass in which the wine sparkled, and at the same moment, the hands of the clock pointing to twelve, VANITY OF VANITIES 33 she cried loudly like a child, " Health to the New Year ! Health to the New Year ! ' Every guest took a glass, crying joyfully, " Health to the New Year ! " and clinked his glass against his neighbour's. Loulou went in search of her father to drink with him; after he had given her a friendly kiss on her rosy cheek, he regarded her with fatherly pride. She went to her mother, taking her in her arms and kissing her on both cheeks. The third person whom she sought was ^Vilhelm. They could not exchange words, but her eyes sought his and they both flashed a mutual and joyous recognition. Her brown eyes had said to his black ones, " May this be a year of happiness for us," and the black eyes had understood the brown ones in their flight and thanked ihem. The gay tumult lasted for several minutes, the buzz of talking, the clatter of glasses, and the coming and going of servants. Then suddenly an invisible hand seemed to lay hold of the general disorder, ruling and directing it, dissolving groups who had chanced together, here driving them forward, there arranging them backward. According to some fixed law, without delaying or waiting, an orderly procession was formed into the dining-room. The invisible spirit hand which jjosscssed all this power was thricc-holy eticjuette; the law which brought order out of confusion, and gave to every one his place, was that of pre- cedence. Paul and Wilhelm, these strangers to drawing-room customs, were new to the performance. A smile flitted over Wilhclm's face, over Paul's came a reverent expression. What he saw made a distinct impression of wonderment on him. The constraint ceased immediately the guests had taken tlieir places at the table. The scent of the flowers vied with the perfumes worn by the women and could not overcome them. The crystal glasses sparkled in the light of the wax candles, the jewels, and llic bright eyes round the table. The servants i)Oured out the noble Rhine wine, the celebrated Purgundy, the elegant Bordeaux, and the mischievous Chamjjagne, wliosc coloured embuiliment was rctlcctcd on the white hands of the guests, and carried their ima.i^in.itions away in its flight from grey reality to the immortal land of rosy dreams. The meal lasted a long time, then a few of the guests rose; the older ones, who had principally chatted, played, and smoked before midnight, now withdrew, if they had no daughters to chaperon ; the ^oung people, however, went back to the dancing-room, the musicians fiddled anew as if they were possessed, and an hour's million was begun, the pretty ([uick-moving figures being led by a 111. itenant of the (Juards, who seemed as i)roud of the honour as 5A Till-: MAL.\i)V OF Tin: CENTURY if he were commnnding on a balllc Ikld. Loulon, wlio liad gone back lo llie dance, had licg^'cd Wilhchn in vain to take part at least in the cotillon, where he need not dance much. She had assured him that he would be more decorated than any other man in the room, and would have more orders, ribbons, and wreaths given him than all the lieutenants put together; but even the prospect of such a triumph could not make him ambitious, and for the first time this evening the beautiful excited girl left him looking out of humour, and glanced at him in a way whicli was not merely sorrowful but reproachful. Paul, on the other hand, was hajipy. He kept more than ever near the pretty insignificant girl with whom he had danced so much, and the good-hearted fellow did not feel in the least jealous when, in the long pause of the cotillon, his partner went to speak to his friend who had stood lonely for so long, and had hardly enjoyed himself at all. Paul was sufficiently decorated; he got a sufficient number of glances from girls' bright eyes to be quite contented, he paid a sufficient number of compliments, great and small, for wliich he was thanked by sweet smiles, and perliaps with tiny siglis, and he had the feeling that he had lived in every fibre of his being, and that his time had been marvellously well employed. He could have stayed for several hours longer, and was quite astonished when towards four o'clock the tireless young people's parents put an end to the evening by their departure. As Wilhelm came up to Loulou she had ceased to look cross. Near her stood the hero of the cotillon, the lieutenant of the Guards, covered with the little favours the ladies had given him. Put that did not prevent her saying in quite a tender voice, " I shall see you soon again, shall I not ? " and Wilhelm pressed her little hand warmly. In the hall Wilhelm and Paul had to distribute gratuities to the waiting servants, a custom (unknown in France and England) which dishonours German hospitality, and a minute later they found themselves outside in the starlit night. It blew icy cold over the Thiergarten; across the darkness the snow-laden trees and the closely-cropped grass looked feebly white. Wilhelm, shivering, wrapped himself in his fur coat. Paul, on the other hand, did not seem to mind the cold; he was still too hot with the excitement of the evening. The waltz rang so clearly in his ears that he could have danced over the snow-covered pavement, and the lights and mirrors of the ball-room shone so clearly before his eyes, and enveloped the dancers with such reality, that the desert of the silent, faintly-lit Koniggriitzer Strasse was alive as if VANITY OF VANITIES 35 by ghosts. He recalled to his mind the whole evening, and in the fulness of his heart exclaimed, "Wilhelm, I hope never to forget this New Year's Eve." Wilhelm looked at him astonished. " I do not share in your feelings. How can a glance at such vanity in thinking men give one any feeling except that of pity ? " " I am not hurt at the hardness of your judgment, because you don't understand what I am saying. You know very well I am not frivolous, and that I have learnt long ago the seriousness of life. But at the same time I value the entree into the best society of Berlin for what it is worth. Now the opportunity has come, and I shall make it useful."' " Paul, you grieve me. A tuft-hunter talks like that." "What do you call a tuft-hunter? — if you mean a man who does not want to hide his light under a bushel, I say Yes, I am one, and I think that is entirely honourable. I don't want to get on by means of any false pretences, but by honest work. What is the use of capability if no one notices it? If I can inspire the right people with this conviction, I am in luck. There is no injustice in that." " I thought you had more pride." " Dear Wilhelm, don't speak to me of pride. That is all right for you. If my fatlicr had left me a house in the Kochsfrasse, I would snap my fingers at every one, and go my own way, as it pleased me best. Or put it the other way round, if you were the middle son in a Brandenburg family of nine, I tell you that you would attribute a certain importance to seeking the favour of influential people. You would become as frivolous as I," added he after a little pause, in which he gave a gentle clap on \\'illielm's shoulder. " Vou ought not to throw my father's house in my teeth; you know how I live." I'aul tried to interrupt him. " Let me finish. A man of your capability can now-a-days allow himself the luxury of independence and manly self-reliance, even if he is one of the nine children of a poor farmer; if one has few wants, one is rich whatever one's fortune." "Tliat is all very well. I know your jjliilosophy of abnegation, and it is a matter of temperament. I am not in favour of starving myself when there is a steaming dish before me. The wf)rl(l is full of good things, and I have a taste for them; why should I not reach out my hand ? " " .And so you would dance in the present for what it would win you iu the future." 36 Tin: .MAT.AHV OF THE CENTURY " Why not? It is a very usual way to gain a usual end." "Aud the modern society household is the result." " What would become of a poor fellow without these merciful arrangcmenls for introihu lions to nicegiils? Is one to advertise?" " So you thought of this in the midst of your poetical soiree f " Certainly. You are provided for. Don't think ill of me if I follow your example." Wilhclm felt the blood flow to his cheeks. He perceived his friend's e\ident meaning. " Paul ! A fortune-hunter ! " "You may talk. Luck flew to you without your lifting a finger to attract it. Other people must help themselves. Fortune- hunter ! That name was invented by hysterical girls whose heads are turned by silly novels. These absurd creatures wish in their childish vanity to be married merely for their beautiful eyes. I should like to ask such a girl whether she would marry a man merely for his beautiful eyes ! I have no patience with sucli nonsense. Suppose a poor man, who is capable and clever, ac- knowledges in a straight-forward way that he is trying to win the hand of a rich woman. He need not upbraid himself about any- thing, for he gives as much as he receives. \Vhat do people want from the world? Happiness. Tiiat is the aim of my life, just as it is the aim of the rich woman's. She has money, and for happiness she lacks love; I have love, and for happiness I lack money. AVe make an equal exchange of what we own. It is the most beautiful supplement to a dual incompleteness." " It is in this way then that you would offer what you call love to a rich girl! A love cleverly conducted, carefully mapjK'd out — a love which one could control, and on no account offer to a poor girl." " Rubbish ! The love of every man who is in his right mind is carefully jjlanned. Would you be in love with a king's daughter? It is to be hoped not. You could keep out of the way of the king's daughter. \\'\\y can I not keep out of the way of the poor girl?" " That means that the princesses' rank is as much a hindrance to love as the poverty of the work-girl." " I swear to you, A\ ilhclm, that if I were as rich, or as indepen- dent as you, 1 would not think of a dowry. But I am a poor devil. If I were so unfortunate as to fall in love with a poor giil, I would try to get the belter of the feeling. I would say to myself, Letter endure a short time of unha];piness and disappoint- ment, than that she and I should be condemned through life to VANITY OF VANITIES 37 the keenest want, which, with prosaic certainty, would smother love." While Paul argued with such ardour and earnestness, he was thinking all the time of Fniulein Malvine Marker, the pretty girl with whom he had danced so often, and he fondled tenderly with his right hand the ribbon and cotillon order hidden under his waistcoat. He did not notice that Wilhelm's expression of face was painfully distorted, nor that his words wounded him deeply. They had come to the Brandenburger Thor, and were walking over the Pariser P.atz. Under the lindens they were surrounded at once by noise and bustle. The streets were full of rowdy bands of men who sang and shouted all together, now pushing one another in violent rudeness, now shouting " Health to the New Year," here knocking off an angry Philistine's hat, there surround- ing and embracing some honest man wlio was wearily making his way homewards ; insulting the police by imitating their military ways, laying hold of their sticks, talking pompously to the night- watchman, and otherwise playing the fool. After the silence of the Koniggriitzer Strasse, the drunken turmoil of this noisy mob was doubly unpleasant, and the two friends hastened to escape into the Schadowstrasse. At Wilhelm's doorstep they took leave of each other ; Paul went off humming a snatch of Offenbach up the Friedrichstrasse to his home near the Weidendammc. Wilhelm was tired, but much too excited to sleep. He lived over again in thought the last few months, and, as often happened lately, he lapsed into painful meditation on his relations to Loulou. After her departure from Hornbergshe had not written to him for eight days. Then came a letter from Ostend, in which she called AVilhelm " Sie." She said she was very sorry for this, that it would be painful if she called him " Du " and he did not return it, but it would be safer not to do so, as his answer would certainly be read by her mother, and perhaps by iicr father also, and they would not wish them to say "J)u" to each other. Already this change of tone between them cut Wilhelm to the heart, but almost more still the contents of Loulou's letter. She spoke a little of the sea, wliose breakers continually sounded in her soul, and her thoughts, which accompanied them like an orchestra; she seldom mentioned the delightful time in the mountains of the Plack Forest, which remembrance he carried always with him ; but a great deal about the I'romenade, the concerts, the Casino balls, her own charming bathing and society toilettes, an