Nature and
morality
have equal rights, and must form a compact.
Warner - World's Best Literature - v02 - Aqu to Bag
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has not yet passed the threshold. His heart is not yet what it
should be. True love for the things of this earth, and for God,
the final cause of all, does not ask for love in return. We love
the divine spark that dwells in creatures themselves unconscious
of it: creatures who are wretched, debased, and as the church
has it, unredeemed. My Master taught me that the purest joys
arise from this love of God or of eternally pure nature. I made
this truth my own, and you can and ought to do likewise. This
park is yours; but the birds that dwell in it, the air, the light,
its beauty, are not yours alone, but are shared with you by all.
So long as the world is ours, in the vulgar sense of the word,
we may love it; but when we have made it our own, in a purer
and better sense, no one can take it from us. The great thing
is to be strong and to know that hatred is death, that love
alone is life, and that the amount of love that we possess is the
measure of the life and the divinity that dwells within us. "
Gunther rose and was about to withdraw. He feared lest
excessive thought might over-agitate the Queen, who, however,
motioned him to remain. He sat down again.
"You cannot imagine—” said the Queen after a long pause,
"—but that is one of the cant phrases that we have learned by
heart. I mean just the reverse of what I have said.
You can
imagine the change that your words have effected in me. "
"I can conceive it. "
sure
"Let me ask a few more questions. I believe-nay, I am
that on the height you occupy, and toward which you
would fain lead me, there dwells eternal peace. But it seems so
cold and lonely up there. I am oppressed with a sense of fear,
just as if I were in a balloon ascending into a rarer atmosphere,
while more and more ballast was ever being thrown out. I don't
know how to make my meaning clear to you. I don't understand
how to keep up affectionate relations with those about me, and
yet regard them from a distance, as it were,-looking upon their
deeds as the mere action and reaction of natural forces.
It seems
to me as if, at that height, every sound and every image must
vanish into thin air. "
――
"Certainly, your Majesty. There is a realm of thought in
which hearing and sight do not exist, where there is pure thought
and nothing more. "
"But are not the thoughts that there abound projected from
the realm of death into that of life, and is that any better than
monastic self-mortification? »
>>
## p. 990 (#416) ############################################
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"It is just the contrary. They praise death, or at all events
extol it, because after it life is to begin. I am no one of those
who deny a future life. I only say, in the words of my Master,
'Our knowledge is of life and not of death,' and where my
knowledge ceases my thoughts must cease. Our labors, our
love, are all of this life. And because God is in this world
and in all that exist in it, and only in those things, have we to
liberate the divine essence wherever it exists. The law of love
should rule. What the law of nature is in regard to matter, the
moral law is to man. "
"I cannot reconcile myself to your dividing the divine power
into millions of parts. When a stone is crushed, every fragment
still remains a stone; but when a flower is torn to pieces, the
parts are no longer flowers. "
"Let us take your simile as an illustration, although in truth
no example is adequate. The world, the firmament, the creat-
ures that live on the face of the earth, are not divided — they
are one; thought regards them as a whole. Take for instance
the flower. The idea of divinity which it suggests to us, and
the fragrance which ascends from it, are yet part and parcel of
the flower; attributes without which it is impossible for us to
conceive of its existence. The works of all poets, all thinkers,
all heroes, may be likened to streams of fragrance wafted through
time and space.
It is in the flower that they live forever. Al-
though the eternal spirit dwells in the cell of every tree or
flower and in every human heart, it is undivided and in its unity.
fills the world. He whose thoughts dwell in the infinite regards
the world as the mighty corolla from which the thought of God
exhales. "
Translation of S. A. Stern.
IN COUNTESS IRMA'S DIARY
From On the Heights'
Y
ESTERDAY was a year since I lay at the foot of the rock.
I could not write a word. My brain whirled with the
thoughts of that day; but now it is over.
* * *
I don't think I shall write much more. I have now experi
enced all the seasons in my new world.
The circle is complete.
## p. 991 (#417) ############################################
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I know all that
There is nothing new to come from without.
exists about me, or that can happen. I am at home in my new
world.
*
**
Unto Jesus the Scribes and Pharisees brought a woman who
was to be stoned to death, and He said unto them, "Let him
that is without sin among you cast the first stone. "
Thus it is written.
But I ask: How did she continue to live-she who was saved
from being stoned to death; she who was pardoned—that is,
condemned to live? How did she live on? Did she return to
her home? How did she stand with the world? And how with
her own heart?
No answer. None.
I must find the answer in my own experience
* * *
"Let him that is without sin among you cast the first stone. "
These are the noblest, the greatest words ever uttered by human
lips, or heard by human ear. They divide the history of the
human race into two parts. They are the "Let there be light"
of the second creation. They divide and heal my little life too,
and create me anew.
Has one who is not wholly without sin a right to offer pre-
cepts and reflections to others?
What are you?
Look into your own heart.
Behold my hands. They are hardened by toil. I have done
more than merely lift them in prayer.
* * *
Since I am alone I have not seen a letter of print. I have
no book and wish for none; and this is not in order to mortify
myself, but because I wish to be perfectly alone.
* * *
She who renounces the world, and in her loneliness still
cherishes the thought of eternity, has assumed a heavy burden.
Convent life is not without its advantages. The different
voices that join in the chorale sustain each other; and when the
tone at last ceases, it seems to float away on the air and vanish
by degrees. But here I am quite alone. I am priest and church,
## p. 992 (#418) ############################################
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BERTHOLD AUERBACH
organ and congregation, confessor and penitent, all in one; and
my heart is often so heavy, as if I must needs have another to
help me bear the load. "Take me up and carry me, I cannot
go further! " cries my soul. But then I rouse myself again, seize
my scrip and my pilgrim's staff and wander on, solitary and
alone; and while I wander, strength returns to me.
It often seems to me as if it were sinful thus to bury myself
alive. My voice is no longer heard in song, and much more that
dwells within me has become mute.
Is this right?
If my only object in life were to be at peace with myself, it
would be well enough; but I long to labor and to do something
for others. Yet where and what shall it be?
*
*
When I first heard that the beautifully carved furniture of the
great and wealthy is the work of prisoners, it made me shudder.
And now, although I am not deprived of freedom, I am in much
the same condition. Those who have disfigured life should, as
an act of expiation, help to make life more beautiful for others.
The thought that I am doing this comforts and sustains me.
*
My work prospers.
But last winter's wood is not yet fit for
use. My little pitchman has brought me some that is old, excel-
lent, and well seasoned, having been part of the rafters of an old
house that has just been torn down. We work together cheer-
fully, and our earnings are considerable.
*
*
Vice is the same everywhere, except that here it is more open.
Among the masses, vice is characterized by coarseness; among
the upper classes, by meanness.
The latter shake off the consequences of their evil deeds,
while the former are obliged to bear them.
* * *
The rude manners of these people are necessary, and are far
preferable to polite deceit. They must needs be rough and rude.
If it were not for its coarse, thick bark, the oak could not with-
stand the storm.
## p. 993 (#419) ############################################
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I have found that this rough bark covers
and sincerity than does the smoothest surface.
more tenderness
Jochem told me, to-day, that he is still quite a good walker,
but that a blind man finds it very troublesome to go anywhere;
for at every step he is obliged to grope about, so that he may
feel sure of his ground before he firmly plants his foot on the
earth.
Is it not the same with me? Am I not obliged to be sure of
the ground before I take a step?
Such is the way of the fallen.
Ah! why does everything I see or hear become a symbol of
my life?
I have now been here between two and three years. I have
formed a resolve which it will be difficult to carry out. I shall
go out into the world once more. I must again behold the
scenes of my past life. I have tested myself severely.
May it not be a love of adventure, that genteel yet vulgar
desire to undertake what is unusual or fraught with peril? Or is
it a morbid desire to wander through the world after having
died, as it were?
No; far from it. What can it be? An intense longing to
roam again, if it be only for a few days. I must kill the desire,
lest it kill me.
Whence arises this sudden longing?
Every tool that I use while at work burns my hand.
I must go.
I shall obey the impulse, without worrying myself with specu-
lations as to its cause. I am subject to the rules of no order.
My will is my only law. I harm no one by obeying it. I feel
myself free; the world has no power over me.
I dreaded informing Walpurga of my intention. When I did
so, her tone, her words, her whole manner, and the fact that she
for the first time called me child," » made it seem as if her
mother were still speaking to me.
"Child," said she, "you're right! Go! It'll do you good. I
believe that you'll come back and will stay with us; but if you
don't, and another life opens up to you—your expiation has been
a bitter one, far heavier than your sin. ”
II-63
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Uncle Peter was quite happy when he learned that we were
to be gone from one Sunday to the Sunday following. When I
asked him whether he was curious as to where we were going,
he replied:-
"It's all one to me. I'd travel over the whole world with
you, wherever you'd care to go; and if you were to drive me
away, I'd follow you like a dog and find you again. "
I shall take my journal with me, and will note down every
day.
*
*
[By the lake. ]-I find it difficult to write a word.
The threshold I am obliged to cross, in order to go out into
the world, is my own gravestone.
I am equal to it.
How pleasant it was to descend toward the valley. Uncle
Peter sang; and melodies suggested themselves to me, but I did
not sing. Suddenly he interrupted himself and said:
"In the inns you'll be my niece, won't you? »
"Yes. "
"But you must call me 'uncle' when we're there? "
"Of course, dear uncle. "
He kept nodding to himself for the rest of the way, and was
quite happy.
We reached the inn at the landing. He drank, and I drank
too, from the same glass.
"Where are you going? " asked the hostess.
To the capital," said he, although I had not said a word to
him about it. Then he said to me in a whisper:-
"If you intend to go elsewhere, the people needn't know
everything. "
I let him have his own way.
I looked for the place where I had wandered at that time.
There there was the rock-and on it a cross, bearing in golden
characters the inscription:
HERE PERISHED
IRMA, COUNTESS VON WILDENORT,
IN THE TWENTY-FIRST YEAR
OF HER LIFE.
Traveler, pray for her and honor her memory.
## p. 995 (#421) ############################################
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I never rightly knew why I was always dissatisfied, and
yearning for the next hour, the next day, the next year, hoping
that it would bring me that which I could not find in the pres-
ent. It was not love, for love does not satisfy. I desired to live
in the passing moment, but could not. It always seemed as if
something were waiting for me without the door, and calling me.
What could it have been?
I know now; it was a desire to be at one with myself, to
understand myself. Myself in the world, and the world in me.
*
The vain man is the loneliest of human beings. He is con-
stantly longing to be seen, understood, acknowledged, admired,
and loved.
I could say much on the subject, for I too was once vain. It
was only in actual solitude that I conquered the loneliness of
vanity. It is enough for me that I exist.
How far removed this is from all that is mere show.
*
*
Now I understand my father's last act. He did not mean to
punish me. His only desire was to arouse me; to lead me to
self-consciousness; to the knowledge which, teaching us to become
different from what we are, saves us.
*
I understand the inscription in my father's library:- "When
I am alone, then am I least alone. "
Yes; when alone, one can more perfectly lose himself in the
life universal, I have lived and have come to know the truth.
I can now die.
* * *
He who is at one with himself, possesses all.
I believe that I know what I have done.
passion for myself. This is my full confession.
I have sinned—not against nature, but against the world's
rules. Is that sin? Look at the tall pines in yonder forest.
The higher the tree grows, the more do the lower branches die
away; and thus the tree in the thick forest is protected and shel-
tered by its fellows, but can nevertheless not perfect itself in all
directions.
I have no com-
## p. 996 (#422) ############################################
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BERTHOLD AUERBACH
I desired to lead a full and complete life and yet to be in the
forest, to be in the world and yet in society. But he who means
to live thus, must remain in solitude. As soon as we become
members of society, we cease to be mere creatures of nature.
Nature and morality have equal rights, and must form a compact.
with each other; and where there are two powers with equal
rights, there must be mutual concessions.
Herein lies my sin.
He who desires to live a life of nature alone, must withdraw
himself from the protection of morality. I did not fully desire
either the one or the other; hence I was crushed and shattered.
My father's last action was right. He avenged the moral law,
which is just as human as the law of nature. The animal world
knows neither father nor mother, so soon as the young is able to
take care of itself. The human world does know them and must
hold them sacred.
I see it all quite clearly. My sufferings and my expiation are
deserved. I was a thief! I stole the highest treasures of all:
confidence, love, honor, respect, splendor.
How noble and exalted the tender souls appear to themselves
when a poor rogue is sent to jail for having committed a theft!
But what are all possessions which can be carried away, when
compared with those that are intangible!
Those who are summoned to the bar of justice are not always
the basest of mankind.
I acknowledge my sin, and my repentance is sincere.
My fatal sin, the sin for which I now atone, was that I dis-
sembled, that I denied and extenuated that which I represented
to myself as a natural right. Against the Queen I have sinned.
worst of all. To me she represents that moral order which I
violated and yet wished to enjoy.
To you, O Queen, to you-lovely, good, and deeply injured
one do I confess all this!
-
If I die before you,- and I hope that I may,— these pages
are to be given to you.
I can now accurately tell the season of the year, and often
the hour of the day, by the way in which the first sunbeams fall
into my room and on my work-bench in the morning. My chisel
hangs before me on the wall, and is my index.
**
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The drizzling spring showers now fall on the trees; and thus
it is with me. It seems as if there were a new delight in store
for me. What can it be? I shall patiently wait!
*
A strange feeling comes over me, as if I were lifted up from
the chair on which I am sitting, and were flying, I know not
whither! What is it? I feel as if dwelling in eternity.
Everything seems flying toward me: the sunlight and the
sunshine, the rustling of the forests and the forest breezes, beings
of all ages and of all kinds- all seem beautiful and rendered
transparent by the sun's glow.
I am!
*
―
-
I am in God!
If I could only die now and be wafted through this joy to
dissolution and redemption!
But I will live on until my hour comes.
Come, thou dark hour, whenever thou wilt! To me thou art
light!
I feel that there is light within me. O Eternal Spirit of the
universe, I am one with thee!
I was dead, and I live- I shall die and yet live.
Everything has been forgiven and blotted out. -There was
dust on my wings. I soar aloft into the sun and into infinite
space. I shall die singing from the fullness of my soul. Shall
I sing!
Enough.
*
I know that I shall again be gloomy and depressed and drag
along a weary existence; but I have once soared into infinity and
have felt a ray of eternity within me. That I shall never lose
again. I should like to go to a convent, to some quiet, cloistered
cell, where I might know nothing of the world, and could live
on within myself until death shall call me. But it is not to be.
I am destined to live on in freedom and to labor; to live with
my fellow-beings and to work for them.
The results of my handiwork and of my powers of imagination
belong to you; but what I am within myself is mine alone.
I have taken leave of everything here; of my quiet room, of
my summer bench; for I know not whether I shall ever return.
## p. 998 (#424) ############################################
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EMILE AUGIER
And if I do, who knows but what everything may have become
strange to me?
*
*
(Last page written in pencil. ) It is my wish that when I
am dead, I may be wrapped in a simple linen cloth, placed in a
rough unplaned coffin, and buried under the apple-tree, on the
road that leads to my paternal mansion. I desire that my brother
and other relatives may be apprised of my death at once, and
that they shall not disturb my grave by the wayside.
No stone, no name, is to mark my grave.
—
ÉMILE AUGIER
(1820-1889)
AN observer of society, a satirist, and a painter of types
and characters of modern life, Émile Augier ranks among
the greatest French dramatists of this century. Critics con-
sider him in the line of direct descent from Molière and Beaumar-
chais. His collected works (Théâtre Complet') number twenty-seven
plays, of which nine are in verse. Eight of these were written with
a literary partner. Three are now called classics: Le Gendre de
M. Poirier (M. Poirier's Son-in-Law), L'Aventurière' (The Advent-
uress), and Fils de Giboyer' (Giboyer's
Boy). 'Le Gendre de M. Poirier was
written with Jules Sandeau, but the ad-
mirers of Augier have proved by internal
evidence that his share in its composition
was the greater. It is a comedy of man-
ners based on the old antagonism between
vulgar ignorant energy and ability on the
one side, and lazy empty birth and breed-
ing on the other; embodied in Poirier, a
wealthy shopkeeper, and M. de Presles,
his son-in-law, an impoverished nobleman.
Guillaume Victor Émile Augier was
born in Valence, France, September 17th,
1820, and was intended for the law; but
inheriting literary tastes from his grandfather, Pigault Lebrun the
romance writer, he devoted himself to letters. When his first play,
"La Cigue' (The Hemlock),-in the preface to which he defended
his grandfather's memory,- was presented at the Odéon in 1844, it
ÉMILE AUGIER
## p. 999 (#425) ############################################
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999
made the author famous. Théophile Gautier describes it at length in
Vol. iii. of his 'Art Dramatique,' and compares it to Shakespeare's
'Timon of Athens. ' It is a classic play, and the hero closes his
career by a draught of hemlock.
Augier's works are:- 'Un Homme de Bien' (A Good Man);
'L'Aventurière' (The Adventuress); 'Gabrielle'; 'Le Joueur de Flute'
(The Flute Player); 'Diane' (Diana), a romantic play on the same
theme as Victor Hugo's 'Marion Delorme,' written for and played by
Rachel; La Pierre de Touche' (The Touchstone), with Jules San-
deau; Philberte,' a comedy of the last century; 'Le Mariage
d'Olympe (Olympia's Marriage); Le Gendre de M. Poirier (M.
Poirier's Son-in-Law); Ceinture Dorée' (The Golden Belt), with
Edouard Foussier; 'La Jeunesse' (Youth); Les Lionnes Pauvres›
(Ambition and Poverty), — a bold story of social life in Paris during
the Second Empire, also with Foussier; 'Les Effrontés' (Brass), an
attack on the worship of money; 'Le Fils de Giboyer' (Giboyer's
Boy), the story of a father's devotion, ambitions, and self-sacrifice;
'Maître Guérin' (Guérin the Notary), the hero being an inventor;
'La Contagion' (Contagion), the theme of which is skepticism; 'Paul
Forestier,' the story of a young artist; 'Le Post-Scriptum (The
Postscript); Lions et Renards' (Lions and Foxes), whose motive is
love of power; Jean Thommeray,' the hero of which is drawn from
Sandeau's novel of the same title; Madame Caverlet,' hinging on the
divorce question; Les Fourchambault' (The Fourchambaults), a plea
for family union; 'La Chasse au Roman' (Pursuit of a Romance),
and 'L'Habit Vert' (The Green Coat), with Sandeau and Alfred de
Musset; and the libretto for Gounod's opera 'Sappho. ' Augier wrote
one volume of verse, which he modestly called 'Pariétaire,' the
name of a common little vine, the English danewort. In 1858 he
was elected to the French Academy, and in 1868 became a Com-
mander of the Legion of Honor. He died at Croissy, October 25th,
1889. An analysis of his dramas by Émile Montégut is published in
the Revue de Deux Mondes for April, 1878.
>
A CONVERSATION WITH A PURPOSE
From Giboyer's Boy'
M
ARQUIS-Well, dear Baroness, what has an old bachelor like
me done to deserve so charming a visit?
Baroness-That's what I wonder myself, Marquis. Now I
see you I don't know why I've come, and I've a great mind to
go straight back.
Marquis-Sit down, vexatious one!
## p. 1000 (#426) ###########################################
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ÉMILE AUGIER
Baroness-No. So you close your door for a week; your
servants all look tragic; your friends put on mourning in antici-
pation; I, disconsolate, come to inquire-and behold, I find you
at table!
Marquis- I'm an old flirt, and wouldn't show myself for an
empire when I'm in a bad temper. You wouldn't recognize your
agreeable friend when he has the gout; - that's why I hide.
Baroness I shall rush off to reassure your friend.
-
Marquis-They are not so anxious as all that. Tell me some-
thing of them.
Baroness-But somebody's waiting in my carriage.
Marquis-I'll send to ask him up.
Baroness But I'm not sure that you know him.
Marquis His name?
―――――
Baroness-I met him by chance.
Marquis-And you brought him by chance. [He rings. ] You
are a mother to me. [To Dubois. ] You will find an ecclesiastic
in Madame's carriage. Tell him I'm much obliged for his kind
alacrity, but I think I won't die this morning.
Baroness-O Marquis! what would our friends say if they
heard you?
Marquis - Bah! I'm the black sheep of the party, its spoiled
child; that's taken for granted. Dubois, you may say also that
Madame begs the Abbé to drive home, and to send her carriage
back for her.
Baroness-Allow me-
Marquis-Go along, Dubois. - Now you are my prisoner.
Baroness-But, Marquis, this is very unconventional.
Marquis [kissing her hand]- Flatterer!
Now sit down, and
let's talk about serious things. [Taking a newspaper from the
table. ] The gout hasn't kept me from reading the news. Do
you know that poor Déodat's death is a serious mishap?
Baroness-What a loss to our cause!
Marquis-I have wept for him.
Baroness-Such talent! Such spirit! Such sarcasm!
Marquis He was the hussar of orthodoxy. He will live in
history as the angelic pamphleteer. And now that we have
settled his noble ghost-
-
-
Baroness-You speak very lightly about it, Marquis.
Marquis-I tell you I've wept for him. -Now let's think of
some one to replace him.
## p. 1001 (#427) ###########################################
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100I
Baroness-Say to succeed him. Heaven doesn't create two
such men at the same time.
Marquis - What if I tell you that I have found such another?
Yes, Baroness, I've unearthed a wicked, cynical, virulent pen,
that spits and splashes; a fellow who would lard his own father
with epigrams for a consideration, and who would eat him with
salt for five francs more.
Baroness - Déodat had sincere convictions.
Marquis-That's because he fought for them. There are no
more mercenaries. The blows they get convince them. I'll give
this fellow a week to belong to us body and soul.
Baroness- If you haven't any other proofs of his faithfulness –
Marquis-But I have.
Baroness-Where from?
Marquis-Never mind. I have it.
Baroness — And why do you wait before presenting him?
Marquis - For him in the first place, and then for his con-
sent. He lives in Lyons, and I expect him to-day or to-morrow.
As soon as he is presentable, I'll introduce him.
Baroness Meanwhile, I'll tell the committee of your find.
Marquis-I beg you, no. With regard to the committee, dear
Baroness, I wish you'd use your influence in a matter which
touches me.
-
Baroness I have not much influence —
Marquis-Is that modesty, or the exordium of a refusal?
Baroness-If either, it's modesty.
detestable.
Marquis - Very well, my charming friend. Don't you know
that these gentlemen owe you too much to refuse you anything?
Baroness - Because they meet in my parlor ?
Marquis-That, yes; but the true, great, inestimable service.
you render every day is to possess such superb eyes.
Baroness-It's well for you to pay attention to such things!
Marquis-Well for me, but better for these Solons whose
compliments don't exceed a certain romantic intensity.
Baroness-You are dreaming.
Marquis-What I say is true. That's why serious societies
always rally in the parlor of a woman, sometimes clever, some-
times beautiful. You are both, Madame: judge then of your
power!
Baroness-You are too complimentary: your cause must be
## p. 1002 (#428) ###########################################
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ÉMILE AUGIER
Marquis - If it was good I could win it for myself.
Baroness-Come, tell me, tell me.
Marquis - Well, then: we must choose an orator to the Cham-
ber for our Campaign against the University. I want them to
choose
Baroness Monsieur Maréchal?
Marquis - You are right.
Baroness-Do you really think so, Marquis? Monsieur Maré-
chal?
Marquis - Yes, I know. But we don't need a bolt of elo-
quence, since we'll furnish the address. Maréchal reads well
enough, I assure you.
Baroness - We made him deputy on your recommendation.
That was a good deal.
Marquis Maréchal is an excellent recruit.
Baroness-So you say.
Marquis - How disgusted you are! An old subscriber to the
Constitutionnel, a liberal, a Voltairean, who comes over to the
enemy bag and baggage. What would you have? Monsieur
Maréchal is not a man, my dear: it's the stout bourgeoisie itself
coming over to us. I love this honest bourgeoisie, which hates
the revolution, since there is no more to be gotten out of it;
which wants to stem the tide which brought it, and make over
a little feudal France to its own profit. Let it draw our chest-
nuts from the fire if it wants to. This pleasant sight makes
me enjoy politics. Long live Monsieur Maréchal and his likes,
bourgeois of the right divine. Let us heap these precious allies
with honor and glory until our triumph ships them off to their
mills again.
Baroness Several of our deputies are birds of the same
feather. Why choose the least capable for orator?
Marquis - It's not a question of capacity.
Baroness-You're a warm patron of Monsieur Maréchal!
His
Marquis-I regard him as a kind of family protégé.
grandfather was farmer to mine. I'm his daughter's guardian.
These are bonds.
―
Baroness-You don't tell everything.
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
989
has not yet passed the threshold. His heart is not yet what it
should be. True love for the things of this earth, and for God,
the final cause of all, does not ask for love in return. We love
the divine spark that dwells in creatures themselves unconscious
of it: creatures who are wretched, debased, and as the church
has it, unredeemed. My Master taught me that the purest joys
arise from this love of God or of eternally pure nature. I made
this truth my own, and you can and ought to do likewise. This
park is yours; but the birds that dwell in it, the air, the light,
its beauty, are not yours alone, but are shared with you by all.
So long as the world is ours, in the vulgar sense of the word,
we may love it; but when we have made it our own, in a purer
and better sense, no one can take it from us. The great thing
is to be strong and to know that hatred is death, that love
alone is life, and that the amount of love that we possess is the
measure of the life and the divinity that dwells within us. "
Gunther rose and was about to withdraw. He feared lest
excessive thought might over-agitate the Queen, who, however,
motioned him to remain. He sat down again.
"You cannot imagine—” said the Queen after a long pause,
"—but that is one of the cant phrases that we have learned by
heart. I mean just the reverse of what I have said.
You can
imagine the change that your words have effected in me. "
"I can conceive it. "
sure
"Let me ask a few more questions. I believe-nay, I am
that on the height you occupy, and toward which you
would fain lead me, there dwells eternal peace. But it seems so
cold and lonely up there. I am oppressed with a sense of fear,
just as if I were in a balloon ascending into a rarer atmosphere,
while more and more ballast was ever being thrown out. I don't
know how to make my meaning clear to you. I don't understand
how to keep up affectionate relations with those about me, and
yet regard them from a distance, as it were,-looking upon their
deeds as the mere action and reaction of natural forces.
It seems
to me as if, at that height, every sound and every image must
vanish into thin air. "
――
"Certainly, your Majesty. There is a realm of thought in
which hearing and sight do not exist, where there is pure thought
and nothing more. "
"But are not the thoughts that there abound projected from
the realm of death into that of life, and is that any better than
monastic self-mortification? »
>>
## p. 990 (#416) ############################################
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
990
"It is just the contrary. They praise death, or at all events
extol it, because after it life is to begin. I am no one of those
who deny a future life. I only say, in the words of my Master,
'Our knowledge is of life and not of death,' and where my
knowledge ceases my thoughts must cease. Our labors, our
love, are all of this life. And because God is in this world
and in all that exist in it, and only in those things, have we to
liberate the divine essence wherever it exists. The law of love
should rule. What the law of nature is in regard to matter, the
moral law is to man. "
"I cannot reconcile myself to your dividing the divine power
into millions of parts. When a stone is crushed, every fragment
still remains a stone; but when a flower is torn to pieces, the
parts are no longer flowers. "
"Let us take your simile as an illustration, although in truth
no example is adequate. The world, the firmament, the creat-
ures that live on the face of the earth, are not divided — they
are one; thought regards them as a whole. Take for instance
the flower. The idea of divinity which it suggests to us, and
the fragrance which ascends from it, are yet part and parcel of
the flower; attributes without which it is impossible for us to
conceive of its existence. The works of all poets, all thinkers,
all heroes, may be likened to streams of fragrance wafted through
time and space.
It is in the flower that they live forever. Al-
though the eternal spirit dwells in the cell of every tree or
flower and in every human heart, it is undivided and in its unity.
fills the world. He whose thoughts dwell in the infinite regards
the world as the mighty corolla from which the thought of God
exhales. "
Translation of S. A. Stern.
IN COUNTESS IRMA'S DIARY
From On the Heights'
Y
ESTERDAY was a year since I lay at the foot of the rock.
I could not write a word. My brain whirled with the
thoughts of that day; but now it is over.
* * *
I don't think I shall write much more. I have now experi
enced all the seasons in my new world.
The circle is complete.
## p. 991 (#417) ############################################
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
991
I know all that
There is nothing new to come from without.
exists about me, or that can happen. I am at home in my new
world.
*
**
Unto Jesus the Scribes and Pharisees brought a woman who
was to be stoned to death, and He said unto them, "Let him
that is without sin among you cast the first stone. "
Thus it is written.
But I ask: How did she continue to live-she who was saved
from being stoned to death; she who was pardoned—that is,
condemned to live? How did she live on? Did she return to
her home? How did she stand with the world? And how with
her own heart?
No answer. None.
I must find the answer in my own experience
* * *
"Let him that is without sin among you cast the first stone. "
These are the noblest, the greatest words ever uttered by human
lips, or heard by human ear. They divide the history of the
human race into two parts. They are the "Let there be light"
of the second creation. They divide and heal my little life too,
and create me anew.
Has one who is not wholly without sin a right to offer pre-
cepts and reflections to others?
What are you?
Look into your own heart.
Behold my hands. They are hardened by toil. I have done
more than merely lift them in prayer.
* * *
Since I am alone I have not seen a letter of print. I have
no book and wish for none; and this is not in order to mortify
myself, but because I wish to be perfectly alone.
* * *
She who renounces the world, and in her loneliness still
cherishes the thought of eternity, has assumed a heavy burden.
Convent life is not without its advantages. The different
voices that join in the chorale sustain each other; and when the
tone at last ceases, it seems to float away on the air and vanish
by degrees. But here I am quite alone. I am priest and church,
## p. 992 (#418) ############################################
992
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
organ and congregation, confessor and penitent, all in one; and
my heart is often so heavy, as if I must needs have another to
help me bear the load. "Take me up and carry me, I cannot
go further! " cries my soul. But then I rouse myself again, seize
my scrip and my pilgrim's staff and wander on, solitary and
alone; and while I wander, strength returns to me.
It often seems to me as if it were sinful thus to bury myself
alive. My voice is no longer heard in song, and much more that
dwells within me has become mute.
Is this right?
If my only object in life were to be at peace with myself, it
would be well enough; but I long to labor and to do something
for others. Yet where and what shall it be?
*
*
When I first heard that the beautifully carved furniture of the
great and wealthy is the work of prisoners, it made me shudder.
And now, although I am not deprived of freedom, I am in much
the same condition. Those who have disfigured life should, as
an act of expiation, help to make life more beautiful for others.
The thought that I am doing this comforts and sustains me.
*
My work prospers.
But last winter's wood is not yet fit for
use. My little pitchman has brought me some that is old, excel-
lent, and well seasoned, having been part of the rafters of an old
house that has just been torn down. We work together cheer-
fully, and our earnings are considerable.
*
*
Vice is the same everywhere, except that here it is more open.
Among the masses, vice is characterized by coarseness; among
the upper classes, by meanness.
The latter shake off the consequences of their evil deeds,
while the former are obliged to bear them.
* * *
The rude manners of these people are necessary, and are far
preferable to polite deceit. They must needs be rough and rude.
If it were not for its coarse, thick bark, the oak could not with-
stand the storm.
## p. 993 (#419) ############################################
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
993
I have found that this rough bark covers
and sincerity than does the smoothest surface.
more tenderness
Jochem told me, to-day, that he is still quite a good walker,
but that a blind man finds it very troublesome to go anywhere;
for at every step he is obliged to grope about, so that he may
feel sure of his ground before he firmly plants his foot on the
earth.
Is it not the same with me? Am I not obliged to be sure of
the ground before I take a step?
Such is the way of the fallen.
Ah! why does everything I see or hear become a symbol of
my life?
I have now been here between two and three years. I have
formed a resolve which it will be difficult to carry out. I shall
go out into the world once more. I must again behold the
scenes of my past life. I have tested myself severely.
May it not be a love of adventure, that genteel yet vulgar
desire to undertake what is unusual or fraught with peril? Or is
it a morbid desire to wander through the world after having
died, as it were?
No; far from it. What can it be? An intense longing to
roam again, if it be only for a few days. I must kill the desire,
lest it kill me.
Whence arises this sudden longing?
Every tool that I use while at work burns my hand.
I must go.
I shall obey the impulse, without worrying myself with specu-
lations as to its cause. I am subject to the rules of no order.
My will is my only law. I harm no one by obeying it. I feel
myself free; the world has no power over me.
I dreaded informing Walpurga of my intention. When I did
so, her tone, her words, her whole manner, and the fact that she
for the first time called me child," » made it seem as if her
mother were still speaking to me.
"Child," said she, "you're right! Go! It'll do you good. I
believe that you'll come back and will stay with us; but if you
don't, and another life opens up to you—your expiation has been
a bitter one, far heavier than your sin. ”
II-63
## p. 994 (#420) ############################################
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
994
Uncle Peter was quite happy when he learned that we were
to be gone from one Sunday to the Sunday following. When I
asked him whether he was curious as to where we were going,
he replied:-
"It's all one to me. I'd travel over the whole world with
you, wherever you'd care to go; and if you were to drive me
away, I'd follow you like a dog and find you again. "
I shall take my journal with me, and will note down every
day.
*
*
[By the lake. ]-I find it difficult to write a word.
The threshold I am obliged to cross, in order to go out into
the world, is my own gravestone.
I am equal to it.
How pleasant it was to descend toward the valley. Uncle
Peter sang; and melodies suggested themselves to me, but I did
not sing. Suddenly he interrupted himself and said:
"In the inns you'll be my niece, won't you? »
"Yes. "
"But you must call me 'uncle' when we're there? "
"Of course, dear uncle. "
He kept nodding to himself for the rest of the way, and was
quite happy.
We reached the inn at the landing. He drank, and I drank
too, from the same glass.
"Where are you going? " asked the hostess.
To the capital," said he, although I had not said a word to
him about it. Then he said to me in a whisper:-
"If you intend to go elsewhere, the people needn't know
everything. "
I let him have his own way.
I looked for the place where I had wandered at that time.
There there was the rock-and on it a cross, bearing in golden
characters the inscription:
HERE PERISHED
IRMA, COUNTESS VON WILDENORT,
IN THE TWENTY-FIRST YEAR
OF HER LIFE.
Traveler, pray for her and honor her memory.
## p. 995 (#421) ############################################
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
995
I never rightly knew why I was always dissatisfied, and
yearning for the next hour, the next day, the next year, hoping
that it would bring me that which I could not find in the pres-
ent. It was not love, for love does not satisfy. I desired to live
in the passing moment, but could not. It always seemed as if
something were waiting for me without the door, and calling me.
What could it have been?
I know now; it was a desire to be at one with myself, to
understand myself. Myself in the world, and the world in me.
*
The vain man is the loneliest of human beings. He is con-
stantly longing to be seen, understood, acknowledged, admired,
and loved.
I could say much on the subject, for I too was once vain. It
was only in actual solitude that I conquered the loneliness of
vanity. It is enough for me that I exist.
How far removed this is from all that is mere show.
*
*
Now I understand my father's last act. He did not mean to
punish me. His only desire was to arouse me; to lead me to
self-consciousness; to the knowledge which, teaching us to become
different from what we are, saves us.
*
I understand the inscription in my father's library:- "When
I am alone, then am I least alone. "
Yes; when alone, one can more perfectly lose himself in the
life universal, I have lived and have come to know the truth.
I can now die.
* * *
He who is at one with himself, possesses all.
I believe that I know what I have done.
passion for myself. This is my full confession.
I have sinned—not against nature, but against the world's
rules. Is that sin? Look at the tall pines in yonder forest.
The higher the tree grows, the more do the lower branches die
away; and thus the tree in the thick forest is protected and shel-
tered by its fellows, but can nevertheless not perfect itself in all
directions.
I have no com-
## p. 996 (#422) ############################################
996
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
I desired to lead a full and complete life and yet to be in the
forest, to be in the world and yet in society. But he who means
to live thus, must remain in solitude. As soon as we become
members of society, we cease to be mere creatures of nature.
Nature and morality have equal rights, and must form a compact.
with each other; and where there are two powers with equal
rights, there must be mutual concessions.
Herein lies my sin.
He who desires to live a life of nature alone, must withdraw
himself from the protection of morality. I did not fully desire
either the one or the other; hence I was crushed and shattered.
My father's last action was right. He avenged the moral law,
which is just as human as the law of nature. The animal world
knows neither father nor mother, so soon as the young is able to
take care of itself. The human world does know them and must
hold them sacred.
I see it all quite clearly. My sufferings and my expiation are
deserved. I was a thief! I stole the highest treasures of all:
confidence, love, honor, respect, splendor.
How noble and exalted the tender souls appear to themselves
when a poor rogue is sent to jail for having committed a theft!
But what are all possessions which can be carried away, when
compared with those that are intangible!
Those who are summoned to the bar of justice are not always
the basest of mankind.
I acknowledge my sin, and my repentance is sincere.
My fatal sin, the sin for which I now atone, was that I dis-
sembled, that I denied and extenuated that which I represented
to myself as a natural right. Against the Queen I have sinned.
worst of all. To me she represents that moral order which I
violated and yet wished to enjoy.
To you, O Queen, to you-lovely, good, and deeply injured
one do I confess all this!
-
If I die before you,- and I hope that I may,— these pages
are to be given to you.
I can now accurately tell the season of the year, and often
the hour of the day, by the way in which the first sunbeams fall
into my room and on my work-bench in the morning. My chisel
hangs before me on the wall, and is my index.
**
## p. 997 (#423) ############################################
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
997
The drizzling spring showers now fall on the trees; and thus
it is with me. It seems as if there were a new delight in store
for me. What can it be? I shall patiently wait!
*
A strange feeling comes over me, as if I were lifted up from
the chair on which I am sitting, and were flying, I know not
whither! What is it? I feel as if dwelling in eternity.
Everything seems flying toward me: the sunlight and the
sunshine, the rustling of the forests and the forest breezes, beings
of all ages and of all kinds- all seem beautiful and rendered
transparent by the sun's glow.
I am!
*
―
-
I am in God!
If I could only die now and be wafted through this joy to
dissolution and redemption!
But I will live on until my hour comes.
Come, thou dark hour, whenever thou wilt! To me thou art
light!
I feel that there is light within me. O Eternal Spirit of the
universe, I am one with thee!
I was dead, and I live- I shall die and yet live.
Everything has been forgiven and blotted out. -There was
dust on my wings. I soar aloft into the sun and into infinite
space. I shall die singing from the fullness of my soul. Shall
I sing!
Enough.
*
I know that I shall again be gloomy and depressed and drag
along a weary existence; but I have once soared into infinity and
have felt a ray of eternity within me. That I shall never lose
again. I should like to go to a convent, to some quiet, cloistered
cell, where I might know nothing of the world, and could live
on within myself until death shall call me. But it is not to be.
I am destined to live on in freedom and to labor; to live with
my fellow-beings and to work for them.
The results of my handiwork and of my powers of imagination
belong to you; but what I am within myself is mine alone.
I have taken leave of everything here; of my quiet room, of
my summer bench; for I know not whether I shall ever return.
## p. 998 (#424) ############################################
998
EMILE AUGIER
And if I do, who knows but what everything may have become
strange to me?
*
*
(Last page written in pencil. ) It is my wish that when I
am dead, I may be wrapped in a simple linen cloth, placed in a
rough unplaned coffin, and buried under the apple-tree, on the
road that leads to my paternal mansion. I desire that my brother
and other relatives may be apprised of my death at once, and
that they shall not disturb my grave by the wayside.
No stone, no name, is to mark my grave.
—
ÉMILE AUGIER
(1820-1889)
AN observer of society, a satirist, and a painter of types
and characters of modern life, Émile Augier ranks among
the greatest French dramatists of this century. Critics con-
sider him in the line of direct descent from Molière and Beaumar-
chais. His collected works (Théâtre Complet') number twenty-seven
plays, of which nine are in verse. Eight of these were written with
a literary partner. Three are now called classics: Le Gendre de
M. Poirier (M. Poirier's Son-in-Law), L'Aventurière' (The Advent-
uress), and Fils de Giboyer' (Giboyer's
Boy). 'Le Gendre de M. Poirier was
written with Jules Sandeau, but the ad-
mirers of Augier have proved by internal
evidence that his share in its composition
was the greater. It is a comedy of man-
ners based on the old antagonism between
vulgar ignorant energy and ability on the
one side, and lazy empty birth and breed-
ing on the other; embodied in Poirier, a
wealthy shopkeeper, and M. de Presles,
his son-in-law, an impoverished nobleman.
Guillaume Victor Émile Augier was
born in Valence, France, September 17th,
1820, and was intended for the law; but
inheriting literary tastes from his grandfather, Pigault Lebrun the
romance writer, he devoted himself to letters. When his first play,
"La Cigue' (The Hemlock),-in the preface to which he defended
his grandfather's memory,- was presented at the Odéon in 1844, it
ÉMILE AUGIER
## p. 999 (#425) ############################################
ÉMILE AUGIER
999
made the author famous. Théophile Gautier describes it at length in
Vol. iii. of his 'Art Dramatique,' and compares it to Shakespeare's
'Timon of Athens. ' It is a classic play, and the hero closes his
career by a draught of hemlock.
Augier's works are:- 'Un Homme de Bien' (A Good Man);
'L'Aventurière' (The Adventuress); 'Gabrielle'; 'Le Joueur de Flute'
(The Flute Player); 'Diane' (Diana), a romantic play on the same
theme as Victor Hugo's 'Marion Delorme,' written for and played by
Rachel; La Pierre de Touche' (The Touchstone), with Jules San-
deau; Philberte,' a comedy of the last century; 'Le Mariage
d'Olympe (Olympia's Marriage); Le Gendre de M. Poirier (M.
Poirier's Son-in-Law); Ceinture Dorée' (The Golden Belt), with
Edouard Foussier; 'La Jeunesse' (Youth); Les Lionnes Pauvres›
(Ambition and Poverty), — a bold story of social life in Paris during
the Second Empire, also with Foussier; 'Les Effrontés' (Brass), an
attack on the worship of money; 'Le Fils de Giboyer' (Giboyer's
Boy), the story of a father's devotion, ambitions, and self-sacrifice;
'Maître Guérin' (Guérin the Notary), the hero being an inventor;
'La Contagion' (Contagion), the theme of which is skepticism; 'Paul
Forestier,' the story of a young artist; 'Le Post-Scriptum (The
Postscript); Lions et Renards' (Lions and Foxes), whose motive is
love of power; Jean Thommeray,' the hero of which is drawn from
Sandeau's novel of the same title; Madame Caverlet,' hinging on the
divorce question; Les Fourchambault' (The Fourchambaults), a plea
for family union; 'La Chasse au Roman' (Pursuit of a Romance),
and 'L'Habit Vert' (The Green Coat), with Sandeau and Alfred de
Musset; and the libretto for Gounod's opera 'Sappho. ' Augier wrote
one volume of verse, which he modestly called 'Pariétaire,' the
name of a common little vine, the English danewort. In 1858 he
was elected to the French Academy, and in 1868 became a Com-
mander of the Legion of Honor. He died at Croissy, October 25th,
1889. An analysis of his dramas by Émile Montégut is published in
the Revue de Deux Mondes for April, 1878.
>
A CONVERSATION WITH A PURPOSE
From Giboyer's Boy'
M
ARQUIS-Well, dear Baroness, what has an old bachelor like
me done to deserve so charming a visit?
Baroness-That's what I wonder myself, Marquis. Now I
see you I don't know why I've come, and I've a great mind to
go straight back.
Marquis-Sit down, vexatious one!
## p. 1000 (#426) ###########################################
1000
ÉMILE AUGIER
Baroness-No. So you close your door for a week; your
servants all look tragic; your friends put on mourning in antici-
pation; I, disconsolate, come to inquire-and behold, I find you
at table!
Marquis- I'm an old flirt, and wouldn't show myself for an
empire when I'm in a bad temper. You wouldn't recognize your
agreeable friend when he has the gout; - that's why I hide.
Baroness I shall rush off to reassure your friend.
-
Marquis-They are not so anxious as all that. Tell me some-
thing of them.
Baroness-But somebody's waiting in my carriage.
Marquis-I'll send to ask him up.
Baroness But I'm not sure that you know him.
Marquis His name?
―――――
Baroness-I met him by chance.
Marquis-And you brought him by chance. [He rings. ] You
are a mother to me. [To Dubois. ] You will find an ecclesiastic
in Madame's carriage. Tell him I'm much obliged for his kind
alacrity, but I think I won't die this morning.
Baroness-O Marquis! what would our friends say if they
heard you?
Marquis - Bah! I'm the black sheep of the party, its spoiled
child; that's taken for granted. Dubois, you may say also that
Madame begs the Abbé to drive home, and to send her carriage
back for her.
Baroness-Allow me-
Marquis-Go along, Dubois. - Now you are my prisoner.
Baroness-But, Marquis, this is very unconventional.
Marquis [kissing her hand]- Flatterer!
Now sit down, and
let's talk about serious things. [Taking a newspaper from the
table. ] The gout hasn't kept me from reading the news. Do
you know that poor Déodat's death is a serious mishap?
Baroness-What a loss to our cause!
Marquis-I have wept for him.
Baroness-Such talent! Such spirit! Such sarcasm!
Marquis He was the hussar of orthodoxy. He will live in
history as the angelic pamphleteer. And now that we have
settled his noble ghost-
-
-
Baroness-You speak very lightly about it, Marquis.
Marquis-I tell you I've wept for him. -Now let's think of
some one to replace him.
## p. 1001 (#427) ###########################################
ÉMILE AUGIER
100I
Baroness-Say to succeed him. Heaven doesn't create two
such men at the same time.
Marquis - What if I tell you that I have found such another?
Yes, Baroness, I've unearthed a wicked, cynical, virulent pen,
that spits and splashes; a fellow who would lard his own father
with epigrams for a consideration, and who would eat him with
salt for five francs more.
Baroness - Déodat had sincere convictions.
Marquis-That's because he fought for them. There are no
more mercenaries. The blows they get convince them. I'll give
this fellow a week to belong to us body and soul.
Baroness- If you haven't any other proofs of his faithfulness –
Marquis-But I have.
Baroness-Where from?
Marquis-Never mind. I have it.
Baroness — And why do you wait before presenting him?
Marquis - For him in the first place, and then for his con-
sent. He lives in Lyons, and I expect him to-day or to-morrow.
As soon as he is presentable, I'll introduce him.
Baroness Meanwhile, I'll tell the committee of your find.
Marquis-I beg you, no. With regard to the committee, dear
Baroness, I wish you'd use your influence in a matter which
touches me.
-
Baroness I have not much influence —
Marquis-Is that modesty, or the exordium of a refusal?
Baroness-If either, it's modesty.
detestable.
Marquis - Very well, my charming friend. Don't you know
that these gentlemen owe you too much to refuse you anything?
Baroness - Because they meet in my parlor ?
Marquis-That, yes; but the true, great, inestimable service.
you render every day is to possess such superb eyes.
Baroness-It's well for you to pay attention to such things!
Marquis-Well for me, but better for these Solons whose
compliments don't exceed a certain romantic intensity.
Baroness-You are dreaming.
Marquis-What I say is true. That's why serious societies
always rally in the parlor of a woman, sometimes clever, some-
times beautiful. You are both, Madame: judge then of your
power!
Baroness-You are too complimentary: your cause must be
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ÉMILE AUGIER
Marquis - If it was good I could win it for myself.
Baroness-Come, tell me, tell me.
Marquis - Well, then: we must choose an orator to the Cham-
ber for our Campaign against the University. I want them to
choose
Baroness Monsieur Maréchal?
Marquis - You are right.
Baroness-Do you really think so, Marquis? Monsieur Maré-
chal?
Marquis - Yes, I know. But we don't need a bolt of elo-
quence, since we'll furnish the address. Maréchal reads well
enough, I assure you.
Baroness - We made him deputy on your recommendation.
That was a good deal.
Marquis Maréchal is an excellent recruit.
Baroness-So you say.
Marquis - How disgusted you are! An old subscriber to the
Constitutionnel, a liberal, a Voltairean, who comes over to the
enemy bag and baggage. What would you have? Monsieur
Maréchal is not a man, my dear: it's the stout bourgeoisie itself
coming over to us. I love this honest bourgeoisie, which hates
the revolution, since there is no more to be gotten out of it;
which wants to stem the tide which brought it, and make over
a little feudal France to its own profit. Let it draw our chest-
nuts from the fire if it wants to. This pleasant sight makes
me enjoy politics. Long live Monsieur Maréchal and his likes,
bourgeois of the right divine. Let us heap these precious allies
with honor and glory until our triumph ships them off to their
mills again.
Baroness Several of our deputies are birds of the same
feather. Why choose the least capable for orator?
Marquis - It's not a question of capacity.
Baroness-You're a warm patron of Monsieur Maréchal!
His
Marquis-I regard him as a kind of family protégé.
grandfather was farmer to mine. I'm his daughter's guardian.
These are bonds.
―
Baroness-You don't tell everything.
