Translation:The Mysterious Individual/XII
Kronenberg was soon enjoying better health, and his complete recovery no longer seemed a long way off. In the dissipated life he was now leading, he seldom had any spare time to reflect on his circumstances. The political events, in which the family naturally took the liveliest interest, the diverse characters who showed up in the house, the concerns they often aroused, as well as the mediations which were necessary again and again — all these things, in which Kronenberg had to play his part, saw the weeks and months pass by so fast that in his confusion and bewilderment he could barely remember his former resolutions. To make life more eventful concerts were held in which the neighbouring families often took part, as well as lectures, excursions and visits to friends who lived out of town. If he was ever cut off from society, he was kept busy by the talented musician, with whom he had become reconciled to a greater extent than he had at first imagined possible. But he was on familiar terms with the two Frenchmen, especially the younger, whose friendly, complaisant politeness he found totally charming. He found it impossible to resist the manner in which this foreigner demonstrated the high esteem in which he held him, the way he sought his confidence, and the cordiality with which he reciprocated his friendship. Also, he had become much closer to Cecilia; on some occasions he thought that she loved him; but then he would notice how at other times she withdrew suspiciously from him, how anxious she was to avoid him, how strangely she responded to his passionate overtures, to deceive himself, or so he believed, and an unhappy mood would take possession of him, in which he treated everyone unfairly, especially the reclusive Emmerich, who seemed to him to be the hated cause of Cecilia's altered demeanour. But though the latter wished to make love to the young lady, his character was wholly unlike that of the disgruntled Kronenberg; for he even remained on friendly terms with Kronenberg, and rarely responded to the bitter words he often had to listen to from the latter, and even more often from the bilious musician. The parents, as is often the case with guileless people, took little or no notice of any of these affairs. The Count, it seemed, was offended by the fact that his young friend, for whom he had a formed strong affection, had forged an intimate relationship with the enemies of his native land and often seemed to express sentiments which he could only call un-German.
One afternoon the women had withdrawn, and however much the Count tried to prevent it, the men's conversation turned to politics. Recently the final glimmer of hope had been extinguished, and when the Count lamented with a sigh: Now we, and with us the whole of Germany, are completely lost!, the musician suddenly exclaimed in his sardonic manner:
— Lost? And what then could you still have had that was worth losing? What did you Germans have left that could have made you German, or a nation? Internal divisiveness had long since broken all your strength, and rendered national interests and grand alliances impossible. The more each province, each statelet, became isolated and broke away from the universal league, the more they believed they had gained independence and patriotism. They languished in petty narrow-mindedness, while some capitals satirized these Philistines and their tastes with their imitated refinement and parroted clichés. The larger kingdoms watched one another jealously, and gleefully regarded their rivals' losses as their own gains. Freedom had long since fled, good taste had leaked out of the hollow moulds of the former régime, and the gloomy ruins could at most only inhibit genius and paralyze recovery. The German never even wanted to be independent; leave him his childish things, his obstinacy, and he will rattle away happily with his toys, even in the midst of oppression, and provided his neighbour is in the same pickle he will consider himself blest. Now, however, this pitiful empire of cities, these Nuremberg trinkets,[1] have been knocked out of their hands; a new spirit is passing through all their countries with irresistible force; it is putting asunder things that have not been separated for a long time and joining together things that have never before been united: and so they awaken, and prudently pay homage now to a new force, which seems destined to become master of all Europe. Yes, they are forced to create a pan-European spirit in place of the small-town provincial obstinacy. How much good they thereby gain, compared with the apparent loss of paltry shadows. Is it not to be hoped for that under foreign domination there might finally be created what one could call German, national, unique? It was, after all, only hitherto the world of books, which the abandoned like to call their literature, that so far could boast a certain consensus between the diverse customs, tribes, sects, religions, dialects and mutual enmities. May they now carve out of this something noble and true, and perfect a figure which they might bequeath with some confidence to their descendants. Perhaps, indeed, it was the diverse régimes, all the leftovers of the Dark Ages, that rendered the ripening of this fruit impossible until now. It would be better if this great convulsion, which the world can no longer avoid, were administered to us by a civilized foreign nation, better if the great lessons were taught and instilled by a great man before whom it is no disgrace to bow down, than that this event should be the result of the confusion of the mob, blind tribulation or indolence. Art and science, philosophy and poetry, of which the Germans are so vain, may now take wing and soar to even greater heights, as they no longer have to struggle against prohibitive policies and various civil institutions. The freedom of the press is at least the first good thing on which we may count with certainty. All the poor journalists, who up to now were only permitted to adumbrate this and that dimly and faintly, and to murmur softly, may now take up their trumpets and proclaim from the rooftops what has perhaps only been whispered in the most intimate circles. Only in this way can public opinion be born in Germany; also, this art or craft of disseminating opinions through journals and newspapers is one we must first learn from the French, and especially from the English. As long as there are still entire villages among us who neither can read nor have any desire to read, it will always seem to me as though one is talking about a phantom when one speaks of German literature. If I thus consider impartially and in a broader sense what has now befallen us, I would venture to suggest that what we have lost can only be seen with a microscope, whereas our gain is immeasurable.
The Frenchman smiled smugly. Kronenberg remained silent, musing; he looked at the Count, who was biting his lip in utter disgust; the sombre Liancourt made a face, from which one could read as little approval as discontent; and as everyone remained silent, the speaker was just preparing to continue with his lecture, when Emmerich, glowing red in the face and with flashing eyes, erupted with these words:
— What? Literature, art and poetry could exist without a homeland? Without that basic feeling that must first provide these blossoms with a warm and nurturing climate? I could as easily believe that the freshness of youth and all its passions could be restored to the rigid corpse of an old man. You may ask, What have we lost? Not this and that, but everything; and the fact that there are Germans who can ask this question, who fail to recognize true ideals and spurn them with their sophistical superior wisdom, this is the tragedy of our time; this is why we have foundered. Dazzled by the splendour of foreign glory, we strove for things that were not appropriate for us, that brought us no good, no happiness, and we learned to spurn the gifts, the true happiness, the native excellence, that still did not begrudge us a kind fate. If we allow this happiness, this freedom, which cannot be expressed in so many figures or words, to foolishly slip through our fingers once and for all, then we will only realize what we had in our possession when we are weeping at its sepulchre. And now, thanks to this tremendous blow, could it be that freedom, however small, lies within our grasp? At the very least, that which we call the freedom of the press? Oh, now we'll see how all our newspapers and all our pamphlets, which so often wore the trappings of freedom, will pay homage to the victor; we'll see how these same people, who once treated their native princes acrimoniously and unfairly, will now creep on their bellies in the dust and flatter. Freedom! What a great word, what a beautiful word! What noble heart would not glow for this precious commodity! But let the better man be careful, if he strives to defend the supreme, not to associate himself out of mistaken zeal with those stateless servants of the moment and the deluded mob who emblazon this holy word on their banners in order to blaze a trail with their anger, their hatred of authority and their manic destructiveness. If deficiencies oppress us, then the state requires new powers and the latter should be created; one thus finds a remedy for the former, but in a legal manner; admonish and educate him who has a vocation for it, and show in sensible writings that he recognizes and loves his native land, that he has earned the right to have statesmen and monarchs as his counsellors, and humanity itself as his benefactor. But how are we to entrust this Palladium to the journals, newspapers and dailies? Should we welcome this disease as a blessing? A disease that might spread its infection everywhere, and from which England must one day perhaps bleed to death, and would gladly make the greatest sacrifices if it could check this temerity of the press? And how nice of the governments to take the trouble to teach even the poorest subject to read and write, fancying that these are the only criteria by which the education of the common man is defined; how diligently they work to ensure that he will experience in the future all the unjust and often malicious attacks that the best efforts of the regents must incur. If you think I'm exaggerating, just look at those English newspapers which are intended for the peasants, for the provincial rabble no less, and which certainly do not aim to guide or reprimand or convey a noble sense of freedom, but instead only repeatedly scatter their pernicious sparks abroad in the hope that one day one of them might start a conflagration. And do I really need to look for examples on the other side of the Channel? Aren't there plenty closer to home, though perhaps not quite as malicious? What a heap of shallow reasoning, what miserable declamations, what uncalled-for and senseless hatred for all authority we have acquired and expressed since this ill-fated revolution! What inhuman Schadenfreude at unheard-of misfortunes, what indifference in the face of the most appalling of events! The ranters, as unphilosophical as they are unhistorical, would like to throw past and present into the abyss and annihilate them just so that they can establish their chimerical future, to wit, the tyrannical supremacy of their whims. They rage in their zeal for freedom when the despotism of the German Emperor Henry is broken by a powerful Pontiff, who established freedom in that era more securely than they could ever dream of doing;[2] but they find it perfectly acceptable when Ludwig the Martyr is ill-treated by an infamous revolutionary tribunal.[3] Until now things have been different here than in France or England, and our nation should be proud of the fact. For nearly twenty years now these principles have resounded across our mountains and our plains, and for almost as many years the armies of the enemy have been in turn the rulers of different provinces; and where, I might ask, is there a country, a tribe, a city, a village even, that would ever become disloyal to their native sovereign? No, the tighter the fetters, the more fervent their love becomes. Oh, how they have suffered, the poorest, and with what exultation they have welcomed back their princes! No, the German sovereigns can never forget this, they can never repay with ingratitude this devotion, these sacrifices, this unwavering loyalty (which will prove itself again and again). They will never make the mistake of confusing the voices of those newspapers with the voice of their people.
— And so, interjected the musician, this momentous adventure will be all for nothing?
— Heaven has approved it, replied Emmerich, and out of the abyss of misery a ray of hope shines forth. We will all see the light; we will unite, a genuine sense of nation shall and must awaken, and all provinces join in brotherly love. Perhaps even then a happiness, a momentous destiny, shall fall from Heaven, and a universal flame shall blaze across mountain and plain, a shout of freedom shall ring through every district, a princely word shall resound through every forest, and now young and old shall gather round the much beloved sovereigns, and perhaps, by the grace of Heaven, what now seems impossible may come to pass.
— You are turning prophet! the musician said derisively: in that golden age you will, no doubt, sit yourself down then and publish a journal or weekly newspaper contradicting everyone, praising every defect, flattering the ministers, yearning for a return to the Middle Ages, and preaching despotism.
— No, exclaimed Emmerich, animated. If there is still a breath of life in me, I will shoulder my musket and join the rank and file with the poorest and lowest of my brethren.
Unable to hide his emotion, he quickly departed; the Count followed his favourite, shocked by what he had dared to express. The musician sent a loud burst of laughter in their wake, which the cheerful Duplessis echoed; Liancourt, however, stood up and said:
— Heavens! If there are many more people like that in Germany, then we could still have a great deal of trouble here. He has told us what we really didn't want to hear; but he is young and honest, and we are guests here, not spies. I don't quite see things the way he does, and there is still much to be said about this chapter of events, some things that should be discussed in detail, and others that should be more restricted. But whenever a conviction proceeds from the bottom of one's heart, it is always in its own way justified.
He went out, paying scant heed to the jocose remarks Duplessis expressed at his expense. The musician also left, and Duplessis said to Kronenberg, with whom he now found himself alone:
— Things will turn out as this disgruntled youth imagines, either now or in the future; but my imagination has spent the whole night pondering over what you disclosed to me yesterday and the day before. You know how much I detest the current régime of my native land, and the man to whom we must all pay abject homage as our so-called emperor; he fritters away our finest resources, and scarcely thanks us for them; his ambition has squandered the immense inheritance that he received from the bloody hands of the revolution, and he will not rest until he has destroyed himself and all of us with him.
Kronenberg replied:
— When we are alone once again and undisturbed in your room, you shall receive a clearer insight into that great plan; a few discussions can hardly give anything more than a vague outline of it. This grand alliance extends throughout the whole of Germany, and indeed further afield; brothers recognize one another and understand one another through signs, handwriting and words that are unsuspected by anyone else. When the time is ripe, this monstrous creature will emerge from all sides, and it shall change the face of the world with many but sure blows.
— And who will direct this far-flung alliance? the other man asked.
— In spite of my youth, said Kronenberg, much faith has been placed in me, so I could without vanity surely nominate myself as one of the guiding spirits. I have now seen a large part of Germany, and on the way here I formed new connections, recruited notable individuals as members, and made the acquaintance of the supreme leaders. But now my unforeseen illness has prevented so many things, or at least delayed them; I could not write — no one knew where I was.
— Is the Count a member of your league?
— No. He is, like his sons, much too faint-hearted to take part; and superficial enthusiasts, like that Emmerich, would only harm us.
— But can you not tell me the names of some of the principal leaders, so that I might have more confidence in the enterprise? Because distinguished and important people must surely be members, as you yourself say.
— Not today! replied Kronenberg; before long you shall know everything that I know myself. But these mutinies in the rear of the army, these small corps that have been deployed here in the neighbourhood are already a prelude.
Duplessis was called away by an orderly, and soon afterwards Emmerich returned. He seemed to want to say something, but was too embarrassed. Finally he approached Kronenberg and grabbed his hand:
— My dear fellow, he began, whom I would so like to call my friend, — why do you keep avoiding me, and with contempt?
Kronenberg was embarrassed.
— You place your trust in people, continued the other man, who do not deserve it, and it's possible you disclose things to them which these foreigners least of all should hear. I shudder to think what might happen to you, and not simply as your friend, but rather as the friend of the noblest, finest and most magnificent being that Nature has ever created.
— Whom do you mean? asked Kronenberg.
— Surely it is not necessary for me to name Cecilia? She is alarmed to have to see you on such intimate terms with these tedious foreigners; she fears that it will lead to the worst possible consequences. Can you really bring yourself to tarnish this gracious vision for even one second of her life? Were I as fortunate as you, no sacrifice would be too great for me to make! And can you hesitate to — dare I say it! — restrain your vanity a little? Because it is the chain with which this individual binds you. He venerates you, he adores your talents, he flatters you. Whether he is in earnest, I do not know; I will not say that he is deliberately lying — but it is not entirely unlikely.
— You insult me! exclaimed Kronenberg. I consider Duplessis a gentleman; and I have no more intimate a relationship with him than can be found every day amongst persons of good breeding.
— You choose to misunderstand me, continued Emmerich, somewhat offended; as always, you are evading me. And the Count, who loves you like a father, asks, nay implores, that you be to be careful.
— But I don't understand why the whole family has all of a sudden become needlessly frightened.
— My dear Feldheim, you know how careful the Count was to remove that book that you carry about with you and hide it, because the author has been the subject of a secret investigation for a long time now. You demanded its return, and we were surprised, frightened even, when you confided to us that you were the author. The Count's admiration is certainly no greater than his fear that your talent could land you in trouble. But this morning, when he and I were visiting this Duplessis, the book was lying out in the open in his room; he told us that you were the author; with a barrage of hyperbole, he extolled the excellence of the book, idolized you, and told me that you had revealed your true identity to him without reserve.
Kronenberg was embarrassed for a moment; but he quickly composed himself and said:
— I revere the man, thought I did not think he was so talkative. But I also see no cause for concern, for he has only confided in people who were already familiar with the facts.
— That's beside the point, Emmerich replied seriously; you should have paid more heed to our well-intentioned warning.
— My dear friend, Kronenberg said with a mysterious smile, you are worrying about trivialities. I wish you could be more broadminded, then I would reveal things to you that would lift up your heart and drive away these petty fears for good. May I speak frankly?
Emmerich was taken aback.
— Is it possible? he exclaimed, keenly observing him; can vanity and a love of mystery so deeply undermine a person's character that he would spurn the greatest happiness that lies before him just to run after mirages? — Oh, poor Cecilia!
And with these words he hastily left the room.
__________
Notes[edit]
- ↑ Nürnberger Tand geht durch alle Land ("Nuremberg trinkets pervade the entire world") referred to the city's heyday between 1470 and 1530, when Nuremberg's products were traded worldwide and its wealth was known as the Imperial Treasure Chest.
- ↑ A reference to the conflict between the Holy Roman Emperor Henry IV and Pope Gregory VII (Hildebrand of Sovana) in the 11th century. See Johannes Voigt, Hildebrand als Papst Gregor VII. und sein Zeitalter, Weimar (1815), which was Tieck's source.
- ↑ Louis XVI of France, who was executed by the French revolutionaries in 1793.