The Lost Manuscript: A Novel. Gustav Freytag

in desolate confusion the branches and gigantic splinters of the white wood lay around the broken trunk, which, blackened and cloven, without its top, still rose out of its ruins as high as a house. Through the mass of branches on the ground, it could be seen that the earth also had been torn up even under the roots of the neighboring trees. The older members of the party looked earnestly on the spot where one moment had turned vigorous life into frightful deformity; but the children pressed on into the thicket shouting, seized upon the scaly cones of the past year, and cut branches from the tree-top, each endeavoring to carry off the largest clusters of the scaly fruit.

      "It is only one of a hundred," said the Proprietor, gloomily; "but it is painful to contemplate such devastation, contrary to the usual order of the world, and to think of the destruction that impended over our heads."

      "Does this recollection cause you only discomfort?" asked the Professor; "is it not also exalting?"

      "The horns of the ram are hanging on the branches," said Ilse, in a low tone, to her father; "he was the sacrifice by which we were saved."

      "I think," added the Professor, "that even a person thus struck by lightning might, if time were left him for a last thought, say to himself that this was quite in harmony with the order of our world. We soon forget, amid the comforts of daily life, what we should always vividly bear in mind, that we only live, like all other creatures, subject to certain conditions. Countless forces and strange powers unceasingly work according to fixed laws of their own, maintaining, supporting, or injuring our life. The cold which checks the course of our blood, the breaking waves in which the human body sinks, the injurious vapors from the earth which poison our breath, are no accidental phenomena; the laws by which they act upon us are as primitive and holy as our need of food and drink, of sleep and light; and when a man reflects upon his position among the powers of earth, his life will be found to mean nothing else than an active struggle against them and an endeavor to understand them. Whoever may provide the bread that nourishes us, and whoever may hew the wood that warms us-every useful activity has no other purpose than, by subduing and wisely utilizing these forces, to strengthen and to protect us. In this work we also observe that there is a secret union between every movement of nature and our own minds, and that all living things, however adverse in individual existence, together form one vast and continuous unity. The presentiment and thought of this unity have, at all times, been the most sublime feeling of which man is capable. From this proceeds another impulse, an overwhelming desire and an irresistible longing to divine the deeper relations of these forces. And it is this that gives us faith. The method of procedure may vary in different individuals, but the goal is the same. Some, possessed of deep feeling, see only eternal wisdom in everything that to them seems incomprehensible; and in child-like faith they apply to it the most reverent and affectionate name. Others earnestly endeavor to observe the various laws and forces of nature and reverently to comprehend their relations to each other. These latter are the men of science. The men of faith and the men of science essentially do the same thing. Their attitude is very modest; for both recognize that all individual life, both subjective and objective, is very insignificant as compared with the great All. And the man who, when thus overtaken by death, could confidently believe he is going to his Father in Heaven, and the man who in a similar moment could bring himself to intently observe the manner in which the nervous elements that constitute his life cease their activity-both are assured of, and both would experience, an end of bliss and true contentment."

      Thus spoke the Professor as they stood before the shattered pine-tree. The Crown-Inspector looked at the speaker in astonishment, suspecting him to be one of that new class of apostles who at that time made their appearance in various parts, and traveled around the country preaching to the people. Mrs. Rollmaus stood reverently with folded hands, occasionally nodding her assent. Presently she nudged the Proprietor, whispering:

      "That belongs to the philosophy of which we were speaking."

      The Proprietor did not answer, but listened with bowed head. Ilse never turned her eyes from the speaker; his observations sounded strange, and excited a secret uneasiness in her, she knew not why. But she could say nothing against them, for the spring of genial life that issued from this noble soul entranced her. The choice of words, the new thoughts, the noble expression of his countenance, captivated her irresistibly.

      The party returned to their resting place on the height; the sun sank behind the hills, and the soft evening glow gilded first the tips of the heather, and then rose above their heads to the tops of the trees; purple shadows covered the ground, the trunks of the trees, and the distant prospect. But small light clouds of gold and purple floated in the heaven above, till there also the glowing colors faded into rosy twilight; the mist rose from the depths below, and the colors of the earth and the heavens died away into a uniform gray.

      Long did the party gaze on the changing lights of the evening. At last the Proprietor called for the contents of the basket; the children were busy unpacking and passing the cold meats to the assembled circle. The Proprietor poured out the wine and pledged his guests, and rejoiced in the fine evening. At a sign from his father, Hans ran into the thicket and fetched some pine torches.

      "There is no danger to-day," said the Proprietor to Mr. Rollmaus whilst lighting the torches.

      The children pressed forward to be torch-bearers, but only Hans was trusted with this honorable office; the gentlemen carried the others.

      Slowly did the procession wind down the hill-path; the torches threw a glaring light on copse and stones, and on the faces of the men, which in the curves of the road were lighted up with a glow like the rising moon, and again disappeared in the darkness. Mrs. Rollmaus had endeavored several times to draw the other illustrious stranger into conversation; she now at last succeeded, when in a bad part of the road. She began:

      "What your friend said was very good, for it was very instructive. He is right; one ought to struggle against the powers and seek the connecting link. But I assure you it is difficult for a woman. For Rollmaus, who is the first power of nature for me, has a hatred of principles; he is always for doing everything according to his own ideas, and, as an independent man, he has a right to do so; but he is not very much in favor of science, and even as regards a piano for the children I have trouble with him. But I seek after principles and powers, and what is called the connecting link; and I read what I can, for one likes to know what is going on in the world, and to raise oneself above ordinary people. But often one does not understand a thing even when read twice; and when it is at last understood it may have become obsolete and no longer worth anything, and so I have often been tempted to give up all research whatsoever."

      "You should not do that," exclaimed the Doctor; "there is always a secret satisfaction in knowing a thing."

      "If I lived in town," continued the lady, "I would devote myself entirely to learning; but in the country one is too much isolated, and there is the housekeeping, and one's husband, who is sometimes hard to please. You have no idea what a good farmer he is. Rollmaus, hold your torch aside, all the smoke blows in the Doctor's face."

      Rollmaus turned his torch away and grumbled. His wife drew close to him, seized his arm and whispered to him: "Before we go away you must invite the gentlemen to visit us; it is the right thing to do."

      "He is a mendicant priest," answered the husband, peevishly.

      "For God's sake, Rollmaus, don't do anything foolish; above all, do not blaspheme," she continued, pressing his arm; "he is mentioned in the encyclopedia."

      "In yours?" asked the husband.

      "In the one here," replied the wife, "which amounts to the same thing."

      "There are many things in books that are of less value than others that are not there," said the husband, unmoved.

      "I am not to be put off in that way. You will not confute me by that," replied the wife. "I tell you that he is a man of renown, and propriety demands that we should take the fact into consideration, and you know that so far as propriety is concerned-"

      "Only be quiet," said Rollmaus, soothingly. "I say nothing to the contrary, if needs be; I have eaten many a sour apple on your account."

      "On my account!" cried the wife, offended. "Have I been unreasonable-am I a tyrant-am I an Eve who has stood with her husband under the tree, with loose