No More Learning

me, thy father!
My father! Oh, my God! thou art my father!
I know thee now-thy voice, thy clasping hand.
Stay here! Be my protector, be my guide!
I am so strange here in this world of light.
They've taken all that I possessed away-
All that in old time was thy daughter's joy.
I have culled out a guide for thee, my child.


## p. 7325 (#119) ###########################################

HENRIK HERTZ
7325
René-
Iolanthe Whom mean'st thou?
René pointing to Tristan - See, he stands expecting thee.
Iolanthe -The stranger yonder? Is he one of those
Bright cherubim thou once didst tell me of?
Is he the Angel of the light come down?
Thou knowest him-hast spoken with him.
Iolanthe-With him? with him? [Holds her hands before her eyes.
Think!
Father, I understand.
In yonder glorious form must surely dwell
The voice that late I heard - gentle, yet strong;
The one sole voice that lives in nature's round.
[To Tristan, who advances towards her] —
Oh, but one word of what thou saidst before!
O sweet and gracious lady!
Tristan
Iolanthe
-
René-
List, oh list!
With these dear words the light's benignant rays
Found out a way to me; and these sweet words
With my heart's warmth are intimately blent.
Tristan [embraces her]-
Iolanthe! Dearest!
Blessings on you both
From God, whose wondrous works we all revere !
Translation of Theodore Martin.


## p. 7326 (#120) ###########################################

7326
HESIOD
(NINTH CENTURY B. C. ? )
OR as to Hesiod and Homer, I judge them to have been four
hundred years before me, and not more. It was they who
made a theogony for the Greeks, assigned names to the
gods, distributed their honors and arts, and revealed their forms. The
poets stated to have been before these really lived later than they, in
my judgment. " These words are from the credulous, shrewd, quaint
father of history, Herodotus, and were written between 450 and 400
B. C. The two poets, then, are assigned to the ninth century B. C.
As to the Homeric school, the latest investigations are in agreement
with this early estimate of their age. Hesiod, however, is a younger
member of that school; probably a century later than the chief author
of the Iliad, whom he clearly imitates. Indeed, the use of the Ionic
dialect and epic phrase at all, in an obscure Boeotian village, can
hardly have any other explanation. He is, however, the first of
Greek poets in another sense; for splendid as is the pageant of Tro-
jan myth, the personality of the Homeric singer or singers evades us
completely. The homely unheroic figure of Hesiod, dwelling in his
humble village of Ascra under Helicon, is the earliest of the poets
really visible to us.
Hesiod represents a back current of colonial Asiatic culture, re-
turning to the yet rude undeveloped motherland. His father had
emigrated from Kymè in Asia Minor, a chief centre of Trojan myth
and epic, back to-
"Ascra, in winter vile, most villainous
In summer, and at no time glorious,»
as the ungrateful minstrel describes his birthplace!
Hesiod actually
pastured his sheep on Helicon, and his vision of the Muses has located
them there forever.
The chief creation of Hesiod is called 'Works and Days'; i. e. ,
which to do them. It is
farmers' tasks, and lucky or fit days on
nowise like an almanac in form, however. The poem of a thousand
hexameter verses is dedicated, as it were, to his ungracious brother
Perses. The latter, we hear, had bribed the judges and so secured
the lion's share of the family estate. Again reduced to poverty by
appealed to the poet, who has nothing for
Moreover, Hesiod takes a pessimistic view
sloth and waste, he has
him but caustic advice.


## p. 7327 (#121) ###########################################

HESIOD
7327
of human life. His own iron age is the worst among five successive
periods, and life is hardly endurable. The only break, indeed, in the
gradual decay from the golden through the silvern and brazen ages,
is the interposition-between the latter and the poet's day of iron-
of the nobler heroic age; and the sieges of Thebes and Troy are ex-
pressly mentioned, to point this reminiscence of Homeric song. Zeus
has never forgiven men for Prometheus's theft of fire, and has "hidden
the means of subsistence"; i. e. , has said to man, "In the sweat of
thy brow shalt thou earn thy bread. " The Pandora episode, also, is
brought in to explain the manifold miseries that vex mortal life.
The transitions from one branch of this wide-ranging theme to
another are rather stiff and awkward. Some parts of the poem are
probably lost; and where it becomes, as often, a mere string of max-
ims, the temptation to interpolate similar apophthegms has haunted
the copyists in every age. Altogether, the poem is more interest-
ing piecemeal than as a whole. Still, in the main, it is a genuine
production of a feebly inspired, rather prosy eighth-century rustic
philosopher. In fact, it is our earliest didactic sermon in verse.
The other poem usually assigned to Hesiod- viz. , the 'Theogony'-
is the first connected attempt at tracing the origin of the Greek gods.
It is no description of creation, much less an attempt to solve the
mystery of existence. In the main we have a mere genealogy of the
family sprung from Uranus and Gê (Heaven and Earth), who in turn
are supplied with a sort of ancestry. Herodotus must not mislead us
into thinking these strange figures are the creation of Hesiod, or who-
ever of his school left us the 'Theogony. ' The poet does probably
little more than to record, and in some degree to harmonize, tales
already more or less generally current. Many stories of cannibalism
and outrageous immorality among the gods must have come down
from utterly savage forefathers. These uncanny heirlooms were never
definitely discarded in pagan Greece. Some of the worst accounts of
Divine wickedness were so entangled with beautiful and well-loved
myths that they have been immortalized in the drama, in lyric, in
works of plastic art, and cannot be ignored in any view of Greek
life and thought. Philosophers, and even poets, did indeed make
fearless protest against the ascription of any grievous wickedness to
Deity. Yet it must be confessed that from Homer's song downward,
the gods are altogether inferior in motive and action to the truly
heroic men and women, either of myth and poetry or of historic
record. And this crude and ignoble popular mythology was fixed
and nationalized above all by the Hesiodic Theogony. ' Even so
pure, devout, and original a poet as Eschylus, in the 'Prometheus'
copies Hesiod in many details, though he is probably combating di-
rectly the elder poet's view of Zeus's purpose and character.
-


## p. 7328 (#122) ###########################################

7328
HESIOD
It will be evident, then, that the works of Hesiod are of extreme
interest and value, not chiefly as poetry, but as an early record of
man's gropings about the roots of mystery. The moral philosopher,
the student of mythology, even the historian of agriculture, may find
here more inspiration than the poet.
Symonds (in his 'Greek Poets'), Jebb, and Mahaffy, all have genial
chapters upon Hesiod. We recommend first, however, the literal prose
version in the Bohn library, which is supplied with helpful notes.
The same volume contains metrical versions of both poems by Elton.
In the citations below from the Works and Days,' some attempt is
made to indicate the rhythm and line-for-line arrangement of the
original Greek. The only available edition of Hesiod's poems with
English notes is by F. A. Paley, in the 'Bibliotheca Classica. ' Much
better is the edition including the fragments of lost works, with Latin
notes, by Göttling.
PANDORA
From the Works and Days'
Z
EUS in the wrath of his heart hath hidden the means of subsistence,
Wrathful because he once was deceived by the wily Prometheus.
Therefore it was he devised most grievous troubles for mortals.
Fire he hid; yet that, for men, did the gallant Prometheus
Steal, in a hollow reed, from the dwelling of Zeus the Adviser;
Nor was he seen by the ruler of gods, who delights in the thunder.
Then, in his rage at the deed, cloud-gathering Zeus did address him:
"Iapetionides, in cunning greater than any,
Thou in the theft of the fire, and deceit of me, art exulting,-
Source of grief for thyself, and for men who shall be hereafter.
I in the place of fire will give them a bane, so that all men
May in spirit exult, and find in their misery comfort! "
Speaking thus, loud laughed he, the father of gods and of mortals.
Then he commanded Hephaistos, the cunning artificer, straightway
Mixing water and earth, with speech and force to endow it,
Making it like in face to the gods whose life is eternal.
Virginal, winning, and fair was the shape; and he ordered Athenè
Skillful devices to teach her, the beautiful works of the weaver.
Then did he bid Aphroditè the golden endow her with beauty.
Eager desire, and passion that wasteth the bodies of mortals.
Hermes, guider of men, the destroyer of Argus, he ordered,
Lastly, a shameless mind to accord her, and treacherous nature.
So did he speak. They obeyed Lord Zeus, who is offspring of Kronos.
Straightway out of the earth the renownèd Artificer fashioned
One like a shamefaced maid, at the will of the Ruler of heaven.
"


## p. 7329 (#123) ###########################################

HESIOD
Girdle and ornaments added the bright-eyed goddess Athenè,
Over her body the Graces divine and noble Persuasion
Hung their golden chains, and the Hours with beautiful tresses
Wove her garlands of flowers that bloom in the season of springtime.
All her adornment Pallas Athenè fitted upon her;
Into her bosom Hermes the guide, the destroyer of Argus,
Falsehood, treacherous thoughts, and a thievish nature imparted,--
Such was the will of Zeus who heavily thunders; and lastly
Hermes, herald of gods, endowed her with speech, and the woman
Named Pandora, because all gods who dwell in Olympus
Gave to her gifts that would make her a fatal bane unto mortals.
When now Zeus had finished this snare so deadly and certain,
Famous Argus-slayer, the herald of gods he commanded,
Leading her thence, as a gift to bestow her upon Epimetheus.
He then failed to remember Prometheus had bidden him never
Gifts to accept from Olympian Zeus, but still to return them
Straightway, lest some evil befall thereby unto mortals.
So he received her- and then, when the evil befell, he remembered.
Till that time, upon earth were dwelling the races of mortals
Free and secure from trouble, and free from wearisome labor;
Safe from painful diseases that bring mankind to destruction
(Since full swiftly in misery age unto mortals approacheth).
Now with her hands Pandora the great lid raised from the vessel,
Letting them loose; and grievous the evil for men she provided.
Only Hope was left, in the dwelling securely imprisoned,
Since she under the edge of the cover had lingered, and flew not
Forth; too soon Pandora had fastened the lid of the vessel,-
Such was the will of Zeus, cloud-gatherer, lord of the ægis.
Numberless evils beside to the haunts of men had departed;
Full is the earth of ills, and full no less are the waters.
Freely diseases among mankind by day and in darkness
Hither and thither may pass, and bring much woe upon mortals,-
Voiceless, since of speech high-counseling Zeus has bereft them.
Translation taken by permission from The School of Homer,' by William C.
Lawton
TH
XIII-459
7329
TARTARUS AND THE STYX
From the Theogony'
HE hollow-sounding palaces
Of subterraneous gods there in the front
Ascend, of mighty Pluto and his queen
Awful Persephone. A grisly dog,


## p. 7330 (#124) ###########################################

HESIOD
7330
Implacable, holds watch before the gates;
Of guile malicious. Them who enter there,
With tail and bended ears he fawning soothes;
But suffers not that they with backward step
Repass: whoe'er would issue from the gates
Of Pluto strong, and stern Persephone,
For them with marking eye he lurks; on them
Springs from his couch, and pitiless devours.
There, odious to immortals, dreadful Styx
Inhabits, refluent Ocean's eldest born:
She from the gods apart for ever dwells
In mansions known to fame, with arching roofs
O'erhung, of loftiest rock, and all around
The silver columns lean upon the skies.
Swift-footed Iris, nymph of Thaumas born,
Takes with no frequent embassy her way
O'er the broad main's expanse, when haply strife
Be risen, and 'midst the gods dissension sown.
And if there be among th' Olympian race
Who falsehood utters, Jove sends Iris down,
To bear from far in ewer of gold the wave
Renowned; that from the summit of a rock
Steep, lofty, cold distills. Beneath wide Earth
Abundant from the sacred parent flood,
Through shades of blackest night, the Stygian branch
Of Ocean flows; a tenth of all the streams
To the dread oath allotted. In nine streams,
Round and around earth and the ocean broad
With silver whirlpools mazy-rolled, at length
It falls into the main; one stream alone
Glides from the rock, a mighty bane to gods.
Who of immortals that inhabit still
Olympus topt with snow, libation pours
And is forsworn, he one whole year entire
Lies reft of breath, nor yet approaches once
The nectared and ambrosial sweet repast;
But still reclines on the spread festive couch,
Mute, breathless; and a mortal lethargy
O'erwhelms him; but, his malady absolved
With the great round of the revolving year,
More ills on ills afflictive seize: nine years
From ever-living deities remote
His lot is cast; in council nor in feast
Once joins he, till nine years entire are full;


## p. 7331 (#125) ###########################################

HESIOD
7331
The tenth again he mingles with the blest
In synod, who th' Olympian mansions hold.
So great an oath the deities of heaven
Decreed the waters incorruptible,
Ancient, of Styx.
Translation of Elton.
MAXIMS
From the Works and Days'
NEV
EVER a man hath won him a nobler prize than a woman,
If she be good; but again there is naught else worse than a
bad one.
EVEN the potter jealous of potter, and craftsman of craftsman ;
Even the beggar is grudging to beggar, and poet to poet!
BUT do thou store these matters away in thy memory, Perses!
Let not contention, the lover of mischief, withhold thee from labor,
While in the market-place thou art hearkening, eager for quarrels.
ONCE we our heritage shared already. Cajoling the rulers,—
Men who were greedy for bribes, and were willing to grant you the
judgment,
You then plundered and carried away far more than your portion.
Fools were they, unaware how the whole by a half is exceeded;
Little they know how great is the blessing with mallow and lentils.
TRULY, the gods keep hid from mortals the means of subsistence;
Else in a single day thou well mightst win by thy labor
What would suffice for a year, although thou idle remainest.
Ended then were the labors of toilsome mules and of oxen.
EVIL he worketh himself who worketh ill to another.
BUT remembering still my injunction,
Work, O Perses sprung from the gods, that Famine may ever
Hate you, and dear may you be to Demeter of beautiful garlands,
Awesome one, and still may she fill thy garner with plenty.
WORK is no disgrace; but the shame is, not to be working:
If you but work, then he who works not will envy you quickly,
Seeing your wealth increase; with wealth come honor and glory.
SUMMON the man who loves thee to banquet; thy enemy bid not.
Summon him most of all who dwells most closely beside thee;


## p. 7332 (#126) ###########################################

HESIOD
7332
Since if aught that is strange or evil chance to befall thee,
Neighbors come ungirt, but kinsmen wait to be girded.
TAKE your fill when the cask is broached and when it is failing.
Midway spare; at the lees 'tis not worth while to be sparing.
CALL with a smile-for a witness, although 'tis your brother you
deal with.
―
GET thee a dwelling first, and a woman, and ox for the plowing:
Buy thou a woman, not wed her, that she may follow the oxen.
THIS shall the remedy be, if thou art belated in plowing:
When in the leaves of the oak is heard the voice of the cuckoo
First, that across the unbounded earth brings pleasure to mortals,
Three days long let Zeus pour down his rain without ceasing,
So that the ox-hoof's print it fills, yet not overflows it:
Then may the plowman belated be equal with him who was timely.
PASS by the seat at the forge, and the well-warmed tavern, in winter.
That is the time when the man not slothful increases his substance.
SHUN thou seats in the shade, nor sleep till the dawn (! ) in the season
When it is harvest-time, and your skin is parched in the sunshine.
SEEK thou a homeless thrall, and a serving-maid who is childless.
PRAISE thou a little vessel; bestow thy freight in a large one.
DO NOT Stow in the hollowed vessel the whole of thy substance;
Leave thou more behind, and carry the less for a cargo.
Hateful is it to meet with a loss on the watery billows;
Hateful too if, loading excessive weight on a wagon,
Thou shouldst crush thine axle and so thy burden be wasted.
Keep thou due moderation; all things have a fitting occasion.
CLOSING LINES
DIFFERENT men praise different days: they are rare who do know
them.
Often a day may prove as a stepmother, often a mother:
Blessed and happy is he who, aware of all that concerns them,
Wisely works his task, unblamed in the sight of immortals,
Judging the omens aright, and succeeds in avoiding transgression.
Translation taken by permission from The School of Homer,' by William C
Lawton


## p. 7333 (#127) ###########################################

7333
PAUL HEYSE
(1830-)
AUL HEYSE stands among the foremost modern German writers,
and his reputation is not confined to his native land. A cult-
Sugan ured cosmopolitan of literature, there is much in his work
to appeal to all who are sensitive to the presentation of life in artis-
tic form, with grace, charm, and power.
Johann Ludwig Paul Heyse-to give him his full baptismal name
was born at Berlin, March 15th, 1830, the son of a distinguished
philologist of that city, both father and grandfather being scholars of
importance. By blood he is half Jew. At
first he studied classical philology at the
Berlin University under Böckh and Lach-
mann; but in 1849 at Bonn took up the study
of the Romance languages and literatures.
His dissertation in 1852 for his doctorate, on
the subject of the refrain in Troubadour
poetry, shows his early literary leanings.
Next came the "grand tour," so fruitful
in rounding out and ripening the education
of a young man of gifts. The libraries of
Italy and Switzerland were ransacked for
books bearing on his Romance studies. In
1854 he was called to Munich to join the
circle of writers gathered there by King
Max, and he has ever since made that centre of art and music his
home. By 1850, at the age of twenty, he was writing poems and
plays, and had begun to publish his long list of works, which in
1893 numbered twenty-four volumes. Of these, the majority are col-
lections of short tales and novelettes, characterized by artistic beauty,
delicate sentiment, picturesque description, and poetic feeling, often
tinged with melancholy, and at times sensuous to the point of dubious
ethics. Excellent examples of these short stories-to some, Heyse's
best literary endeavor - may be found in The Book of Friendship. '
A tale as widely known outside of Germany as any he has written
is 'L'Arrabbiata,' a charming Italian idyl of peasant life. His early
poems-lyric, epic, and dramatic-testify to his culture, warmth of
temperament, and inventive power; and he has never ceased to do

PAUL HEYSE


## p. 7334 (#128) ###########################################

7334
PAUL HEYSE
work of this sort, though it is minor compared with his fiction. His
best known epic is perhaps Thekla,' published in 1858. Many of
his plays have had more or less vogue on the stage: by his 'Sabine
Women' in 1859 he won the dramatic prize offered by King Maximil-
ian; and 'Hans Lange,' which the eminent Danish critic Brandes
calls both "beautiful" and "national," is regarded as a drama of high
merit. In other leading plays Heyse treats historical subjects in a
romantic manner, making them pleasing and impressive. In 1884 he
received from the Kaiser for his dramatic compositions the Schiller
prize, a much coveted honor. The influence of Italy and of Italian
culture is observable all through his writings, imparting a certain suav-
ity and sweetness, sometimes with a consequent loss of strength. He
reflects the foreign stimulus as does Pierre Loti in France.
It is likely that Heyse has been most widely enjoyed, and has ap-
pealed to the greatest number of readers, by his short stories. It is
quite true that they represent him in many of his most delightful
moods. Yet for depth and power his two "purpose" novels, 'Children
of the World' and 'In Paradise,' are more typical and have helped
to give him international fame. Few modern works of fiction have
aroused so much interest. Many editions have appeared, many trans-
lations been made. These novels stand for a class of literature which
has developed rapidly under the present literary creed of realism.
Such works propound grim problems, or preach reform, or attack
social abuses. Familiar examples in English are Madame Grand's
The Heavenly Twins' and Mrs. Ward's 'Robert Elsmere. A com-
mon trait of this "purpose" literature, as it is called, is its power,
seriousness, and frequent sadness. It is a later phase of the intel-
lectual and moral storm and stress which earlier in the century, and
under the influence of the romantic spirit, breathed from the lyrics
of Heine and the plays of Goethe. When Children of the World'
appeared in 1870, it made a sensation, because of both its ability and
its teaching. It was warmly praised, bitterly attacked; but its spir-
itual significance and artistic charm were generally conceded. 'In
Paradise,' which followed two years later in 1875, also recognized as
having great strength and fine art, called out a storm of protest for
its conception of life: it cries up the hedonism which makes personal
happiness the aim and test of action.
Individual freedom, liberty to
grow in spite of the conventions of society or politics or religion, is
the keynote in both novels. "There is but one real nobility," Heyse
makes some one say: "to be true to one's best self. " This is the
individualistic note of Ibsen. Heyse's motto is, "Follow nature. "
Comparing the two books, 'Children of the World' may be pre-
ferred for its healthier tone, better construction and taste, and more
pleasing solution. It is full of capitally drawn scenes of Bohemian


## p. 7335 (#129) ###########################################

PAUL HEYSE
7335
student life: the art, literature, and philosophy of the day are reflected
in its pages; and the character-drawing and situations have compel-
ling interest. The hero is conducted through an unconventional, emo-
tional love experience, to find peace and happiness at last.
The story
thus avoids the disagreeable extreme of too many "purpose" novels.
Heyse is what the Germans call a dichter. This does not mean
poet in the narrow English sense, which makes the word denote the
writer of literature in verse form; but rather a writer who, whether
in prose or poetry, and perhaps never penning a line of formal verse,
has in his work the qualities of romance, imagination, artistic beauty.
There is something of the feminine in Heyse's glowing, plastic work.
A critic has said that he is to German imaginative literature what
Mendelssohn is to German music,-of a lyric rather than dramatic
genius.
The selection is made from one of the long stories, as being more
satisfactory than any excerpt from the shorter tales could be.
BALDER'S PHILOSOPHY
From Children of the World'
Ο
NE beautiful sunny day in November, Edwin had set out on
his daily walk to the university, and Franzelius was pre-
paring to read aloud from a translation of Sophocles, when
Balder, who was reclining near the window in a comfortable arm-
chair sent by Frau Valentin, suddenly laid his pale slender hand
on the book and said: "We won't read to-day, Franzelius: I'd
rather talk about all sorts of things with you. I feel so well
that it's not the least exertion to speak, and the sun is shining so
brightly in the clear sky! Only to see that, is such an incom-
parable happiness that to enjoy it one would gladly endure all
the evils of this life. Don't you think so? "
-
"I can't look at it without thinking that it shines equally
on the just and the unjust, and beholds much more misery than
happiness," replied the printer, looking almost defiantly toward
the sky. "I wish it would die out once for all, and with it this
whole motley lie which we call life. "
"No, Franzel," said Balder quietly, "you are wrong. Even if
the sun knew what it was doing in creating and sustaining life,
there is no cause for shame in such a work. Why do you call
existence a lie, Franzel? Because its end is so abrupt? But
your existence had its beginning as well, and did that beginning


## p. 7336 (#130) ###########################################

7336
PAUL HEYSE
ever bespeak a promise of perpetuity? On the contrary, my
dear fellow, there is much honesty in human life: it promises so
little and yet yields us so much. Will you censure it because
it can't be all that we visionary or dissatisfied or unjust people
demand? "
"There's no joy to me in living," muttered the other gloomily,
covering his eyes with his broad hands. "As soon as one need
is satisfied, another takes its place; and he who ventures to dif-
fer from the opinions held by mankind in general never finds
repose. "
"And would life be worth the living if we were sunk in
repose? Is sleeping, living? Or absorption in a dull dream of
existence, such as the beetle has when it climbs up the blade of
grass to reach a dew-drop,-is that leading a worthy life? My
dear fellow, if you drive necessity out of the world, how unneces-
sary it would be to live! "
"You're playing upon words. "
"No, I speak in sober earnest. A short time ago I read a
stanza in Voltaire, which, like many things he says to the masses,
is drawn from his deep hoard of knowledge and contains a pure
gem of truth:
'Oh! who could bear the burden of his life,
The sad remembrance of the whilom strife,
The threat'ning ills that hover round his way,
If the dear God, to ease man of his pain,
Had not so made him thoughtless, careless, vain,
That he might be less wretched in his day? '
Don't grow at the poor translation; it's a hasty improvisation
which I ventured upon because I know you can't bear French.
The sense is faithfully rendered, and it's a sense admirably suited
to the senseless. I know of but one way that leads to real
unhappiness, and that's when a person is vain and frivolous.
And those lines contain much wisdom; for it is just those people
who lack the strength to endure sorrowful recollections of the
past and anxiety concerning their futures, that are so deeply
indebted to Nature for the ability of thoughtlessly and uncon-
sciously enjoying their pitiful present. This will not bring them
happiness, it will only make them less miserable; for the real
bliss of living they will never learn to know. He only can under-
stand that who is capable of quiet reflection, or, if you will, who


## p. 7337 (#131) ###########################################

PAUL HEYSE
7337
is able to grasp the meaning of both past and future at once.
Perhaps, though you're exactly the opposite of vain and frivolous,
even you won't wholly understand life for a long time as I've
understood it. I have always been best able to enjoy life by
retrospection: and whenever I wished to thoroughly enjoy exist-
ence, I have only needed to awake in myself a vivid remembrance
of the various periods of my life; of my laughing frolicsome
childhood, when I was in the glow of perfect health; then the
first dawn of thought and feeling, the first sorrows of youth
when they came to me, the perception of what a full, healthful
existence must be, and yet at the same time the resignation to
my fate which is usually easy only to men advanced in years.
Don't you believe that one who can experience whenever he
wishes such a fullness of life in himself, to whom for this pur-
pose everything lends its aid,-sorrow and joy, loss and gain,
each showing him a new side of his own nature,- don't you
believe, my dear fellow, that such a fortunate man must consider
it a mistaken conclusion, even if a philosopher gave it utterance,
that it would be better not to be born? To be sure, no one can
deny that there are times when sorrow stifles the desire for exist-
ence, and excites an overwhelming longing for mere unconscious-
But oftentimes the greatest sorrow brings an increase of
our life experience: how could we otherwise understand the tri-
umphant delight which martyrs have felt under torture by fire and
rack? They felt that their torment only confirmed their confi-
dence in the strength of their own souls, pervaded as they were
by an illusion or a truth that their tormentors sought to tear out
or kill.
The worst that could be inflicted upon them served to
develop the highest enjoyment of their personality. And so all
the tragedy of life which a shallow philosophy pronounces to be
the misery of the world, is merely another, higher form of enjoy-
ing life, peculiar to lofty souls. When death steps in at last, it's
like the sleep that comes after a holiday, when people have been
so long in an ecstasy of delight that they are weary at last and
have no strength for future enjoyments. "
ness.
He was silent a moment and wore a rapt expression. Then
he suddenly said:-
"If the festival is over for me, Franzel, you must hold fast to
Edwin. "
-
"What nonsense you are talking! " exclaimed the other.
"You've never been on a fairer way toward recovery than now.
Your sickness was a crisis: Marquard said so himself. "


## p. 7338 (#132) ###########################################

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PAUL HEYSE
"Yes, it was a crisis,” replied the invalid, smiling. "It will
decide, indeed has already decided something. Life has pro-
nounced judgment upon this not very durable structure, and writ-
ten down its defects in red ink. Do you really suppose that
Marquard does not know as well as I that the drama is played
out? The slightest agitation, the least imprudence — "
-
"Balder! what are you saying! These are mere fancies, per-
haps a passing weakness->
"You think so because I can speak of the end so quietly?
You ought long ago to have credited me with as much strength
as was needed for that. I know how few are willing to rise
from the table just when the viands are most tempting. And
indeed, Franzel, life never seemed to me so fair as now. How
many kind friends I have gained during these last weeks, how
much beautiful poetry and lofty and profound thoughts I have
enjoyed! But all that's of no avail: man must live and let live,
and there are doubtless others waiting to take their turn.
If you
are sad, Franzel, I must wait for another time to make my last
request; though I do not know how long I may have to linger.
But come, be sensible. You know I love you dearly; indeed, next
to Edwin you have the first place in my heart. But I do not
need to take leave of my brother. My whole life during the last
few years has been only one long farewell. We knew we should
not always remain together, I at least was fully aware of it, so
we have enjoyed all our happiness, as it were, on account. But
when the end comes, I know how it will be: at first he'll be
unable to reconcile himself. And that's why I want to beg you
to keep near him. His needs are great, and there are not many
who can fulfill them. "
――――――――――
―――――
-
"And that is the first thing you ask? " cried the honest friend,
with an emotion he vainly endeavored to repress. "But for
heaven's sake, Balder, what sort of talk is this? You - you really
believe I-we-" He started up and rushed desperately around
the little table in the centre of the room, so that the leaves of the
palms trembled.
"You scarcely understand as yet all that I mean," continued
the invalid quietly. "That you'll always remain his friend is a
matter of course. But to give me any real comfort, you will
have to make a sacrifice. "
"A sacrifice? As if I would not-do you know me so little? "
"I know you to be the most unselfish man under the sun,”
said Balder, smiling. "But it is just this very habit of never


## p. 7339 (#133) ###########################################

PAUL HEYSE
7339
thinking of yourself, that for his sake and mine you must lay
aside, at least so far as you can do so without being faithless to
yourself. Do you know what will happen if you go on as you
have been doing? In two years, in spite of your friendship, you'll
not set foot in the tun. "
"I? But tell me -"
"It's a very simple matter: because you'll be thinking of your
friends either behind prison bars or in America. Dear Franzel,
must I tell you why you're not fond of living?
Because you
believe that a man only truly lives when he becomes a martyr
to his convictions. I have always loved you for this belief, and
yet I believe it a mistaken one. Test it awhile: say to yourself
that you aid many more by living than you could by your mar-
tyrdom, and you will see that a man can guard his post very
bravely and self-sacrificingly, without foolhardily summoning the
enemy by alarm shots. It would be an inexpressible comfort to
me if you would promise for two years to let alone all 'agitation'
and see how affairs really are. There are currents in which it's
a useless waste of strength to row, because the boat floats onward
of its own accord. I know what it will cost you to do this.
it would be a great joy if this last wish - ”
But
"Say no more," cried the other, suddenly pausing before his
friend, with his tearful eyes turned toward him: "Balder, is it
possible that you that you are about to leave us? And can you
believe if that should happen, that I could continue my life as
if nothing had occurred? When men can no longer behold the
do you suppose I could-that I would Words failed
him; he turned abruptly away, and stood motionless beside the
turning-lathe.
>>>
sun
-
"I did not mean that I thought you could live on the same
as before," said Balder in a lower voice. "But you need a sub-
stitute for what you resign. You must learn to be glad to live,
and I think I know how you would learn to do so most quickly.
You must take a wife, Franzel! ”
"I? What can you be thinking about? How came such an
idea into your head? Just at this time, too--"
"Because it will soon be too late for me to earn a kuppelpelz*
from you. True, I shall scarcely need it. I shall not feel cold
where I lie. But I should like to know of your being warmly
*Reward for match-making.


## p. 7340 (#134) ###########################################

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PAUL HEYSE
sheltered. And I know from experience I've been 'married'
to Edwin-that the world looks much brighter seen with four
eyes than with two. "
"You see," he continued, as his friend still stood motionless,
boring a hole in the bench with the point of a file, "Edwin will
find a wife in time who will make him happy: then you would
be left again with nothing but mankind to clasp to your heart;
and beautiful and sublime as the idea is, it's not all you need -
and that's why you get over-excited, and the thought of martyr-
dom overcomes your judgment. So I think a little wife who
would know how to love and value you, would by her mere
presence instruct you every day in the doctrine that Edwin has
so often represented to you in vain, that you should husband
your energies for the future, and not prematurely sacrifice your
life without cause. There is no danger of your becoming faith-
less to your convictions from mere selfish pleasure in your home.
And then, how can a socialist who knows nothing except from
hearsay of family life, upon which basis the whole structure of
society rests, who knows nothing of where the shoe pinches the
father of a family, talk to married men about what they owe to
themselves and others? ”
As he uttered these words a bewitchingly cunning expression
sparkled in the sick boy's beautiful eyes. He almost feared that
Franzelius would turn, and looking in his face penetrate the
secret design, the purpose of attacking him on his weakest side;
so, rising, he limped to the stove and put in a few sticks of
wood. While thus employed, he continued in a tone of apparent
indifference:-
-
"You mustn't suppose I'm saying all this at random. No, my
dear fellow, I've a very suitable match in view for you: a young
girl who's as well adapted to your needs as if I'd invented or
ordered her expressly for you. Young, very pretty, with a heart
as true as gold, fond of work and fond of life too, as she ought
to be, if she is to wed with one who doesn't care to live; not
a princess, but a child of working people. Haven't you guessed
her name yet? Then I must help you: she writes it Reginchen. ”
"Balder! You're dreaming! No, no, I beseech you, say no
more about that: you've too long—"
"I am astonished," continued the youth, rising as he spoke
and moving toward the bed, "that you didn't understand me read-
ily and meet me half-way. Where have your eyes been, that


## p. 7341 (#135) ###########################################

PAUL HEYSE
7341
you've not seen that you have stood high in the dear girl's
favor for years? Even I have noticed it! I tell you, Franzel,
the little girl is a treasure. I have known her all these years,
and love her as dearly as a sister, and the man to whom I
don't begrudge her I must love like a brother. Therefore, blind
dreamer, I wanted to open your eyes, that I may close mine in
peace. To be sure, I'm by no means certain that you've not
already bestowed your heart elsewhere, and my brotherly hint
may be too late.
At any rate, whatever you do you should do
quickly, for the young girl's sake. She seems to have taken
your long absence to heart: her mother says she is by no means
well yet, and eats and sleeps very little. I should like to see
my little sister well and happy again before I - "
He could not finish the sentence. He had been seated on
the bed while speaking; and now he laid his head on the pillow
and closed his eyes, as if wearied with the unusual exertion of
conversing. Suddenly he felt his hands seized; Franzelius had
meant to embrace him, but instead he threw himself down beside
the bed, and with his head resting on Balder's knees, he gave
way to such violent and uncontrollable emotion that the youth was
obliged to make every exertion to soothe him into composure.
At last he rose. He tried to speak, but his voice failed.
"You - you're-oh! Heaven forgive me, forgive me! I'm not
worthy! " was all he could stammer. Then he started up and
rushed out of the room.
Balder had sunk back on the bed and closed his eyes again.
His pale face was almost transfigured; he looked like a hero
resting after a victory, and for the moment did not even feel the
pain in his chest. The room was perfectly still; the sunlight
played amid the palm leaves; the mask of the youthful prisoner,
suffused with a rosy light which came from the open door of the
stove, seemed to breathe and whisper to its image on the narrow
couch: "Die! -your death shall be painless! " But a sudden
thought roused Balder from this anticipation of eternal repose.
He rose and dragged himself to the turning-lathe, where with a
trembling hand he unlocked the drawer. "It's fortunate that I
thought of it! " he murmured. "What if they had found it! "
He drew out the portfolio in which he kept his collection of
verses. On how many pages was the image of the child whom
he secretly loved, described with all the exaggerated charms his
solitary yearning had invested her with; to how much imaginary


## p. 7342 (#136) ###########################################

7342
PAUL HEYSE
happiness these simple sheets bore witness! And yet he could
now let them slide through his fingers without bitterness. Had
not his feelings been sacred and consoling to him at the time?
What had happened which could strip the bloom and fragrance
of this spring from his heart? There would be no summer,
but did that make less beautiful the season of blossoming?
read a verse here and there in an undertone, now and then
altering a word that no longer satisfied him, and smiling at him-
self for polishing verses which no human eye had seen or ever
would see. Many he had quite forgotten, and now found them
beautiful and touching. When he had turned the last page, he
took the pencil and wrote on a loose scrap of paper that he laid
in the drawer in place of the volume of poems, the following
lines, which he wrote without effort and without revision:
GOOD-NIGHT, thou lovely world, good-night:
Have I not had a glorious day?
Unmurmuring, though thou leav'st my sight,
I to my couch will go away.
Whate'er of loveliness thou hast,
Is it not mine to revel in?
Though many a keen desire does waste
My heart, it ne'er alone has been.
Delusion's veil of error blind
Fell quite away from soul and eye;
Clearer my path did upward wind
To where life's sunny hill-tops lie.
No idol false is there adored;
Humanity's eternal powers,
O'er which the light of Heaven is poured,
Stand self-contained in passion's hours.
High standing on the breeze-swept peak,
Below may I with rapture see
The land whereof no man may speak
Save him who fares there wearily.
This is the rich inheritance
The children of the world shall own,
When crossed the wearisome expanse,
And fate's supreme decrees are known.
---


## p. 7343 (#137) ###########################################

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7343
O brother, who art seeking still
For love and joy where I have sought,
I would your path with blessings fill
When to its end my life is brought.
Ah! brother, could we two aspire
Together to the glorious height-
Hence, tears! some part of my desire
Is thine. Thou lovely world, good-night!
COUNTESS TOINETTE SETS OUT FOR "THE PROMISED LAND »
From Children of the World'.
HE note inclosed in the doctor's letter ran as follows:
THE
-
-
"You will be alarmed, my dear friend, that I already
write you again. But fear nothing: it is for the last time,
and means little more than the card inscribed P. P. C. which
we leave with our friends before a long separation. I am going
away on a journey, dear friend, far enough away to enable you.
to feel perfectly secure from any molestation on my part. How
this has come about is a long story. Suffice it to say, that it is
not envy of the laurels won by my beautiful fair-haired sister-in-
law-I mean those she will undoubtedly win as a high-born,
intellectual, and pious traveler that induces me also to seek a
change of air. If that which I breathe were but conducive to
my health,- if I could but sleep and wake, laugh and weep,
like other men and women,-I certainly would not stir from the
spot. But even my worst enemy could hardly fail to understand
that matters cannot go on any longer as they are; so I prefer
to go. The 'promised land' has long allured me. I should have
set out for it before, if I had not had much to expect, to hope,
and to wait for, and been hindered by a multitude of as I
now see-very superfluous scruples, which are at last successfully
conquered.