BARON VON F------ TO COUNT VON O------- June 4.
The Marquis of Civitella, who is now entirely recovered from his wounds, was last week introduced to the prince by his uncle, the cardinal, and since then he has followed him like his shadow. Biondello cannot have told me the truth respecting this marquis, or at any rate his account must be greatly exaggerated. His mien is highly engaging, and his manners irresistibly winning.
It is impossible to be out of humor with him; the first sight of him has disarmed me. Imagine a man of the most enchanting figure, with corresponding grace and dignity, a countenance full of thought and genius, an expression frank and inviting; a persuasive tone of voice, the most flowing eloquence, and a glow of youthful beauty, joined to all the advantages of a most liberal education. He has none of that contemptuous pride, none of that solemn starchness, which we disliked so much in all the other n.o.bles. His whole being is redolent of youthful joyousness, benevolence, and warmth of feeling. His excesses must have been much exaggerated; I never saw a more perfect picture of health. If he is really so wholly abandoned as Biondello represents him he is a syren whom none can resist.
Towards me he behaved with much frankness. He confessed with the most pleasing sincerity that he was by no means on the best of terms with his uncle, the cardinal, and that it was his own fault. But he was seriously resolved to amend his life, and the merit would be entirely the prince"s. At the same time he hoped through his instrumentality to be reconciled to his uncle, as the prince"s influence with the cardinal was unbounded. The only thing he had wanted till now was a friend and a guide, and he trusted he should find both in the person of the prince.
The prince has now a.s.sumed the authority of a preceptor towards him, and treats him with all the watchfulness fulness and strictness of a Mentor.
But this intimacy also gives the marquis a certain degree of influence, of which he well knows how to avail himself. He hardly stirs from his side; he is present at all parties where the prince is one of the guests; for the Bucentauro alone he is fortunately as yet too young.
Wherever be appears in public with the prince he manages to draw him away from the rest of the company by the pleasing manner in which he engages him in conversation and arrests his attention. n.o.body, they say, has yet been able to reclaim him, and the prince will deserve to be immortalized in an epic should he accomplish such an Herculean task.
I am much afraid, however, that the tables may be turned, and the guide be led away by the pupil, of which, in fact, there seems to be every prospect.
The Prince of ---d------ has taken his departure, much to the satisfaction of us all, my master not excepted. What I predicted, my dear O-----, has come to pa.s.s. Two characters so widely opposed must inevitably clash together, and cannot maintain a good understanding for any length of time. The Prince of ---d------ had not been long in Venice before a terrible schism took place in the intellectual world, which threatened to deprive our prince of one-half of his admirers.
Wherever he went he was crossed by this rival, who possessed exactly the requisite amount of small cunning to avail himself of every little advantage he gained. As he besides never scrupled to make use of any petty manoeuvres to increase his consequence, he in a short time drew all the weak-minded of the community on his side, and shone at the head of a company of parasites worthy of such a leader.
[The harsh judgment which Baron F----- (both here and in some pa.s.sages of his first letter) p.r.o.nounces upon this talented prince will be found exaggerated by every one who has the good fortune to be acquainted with him, and must be attributed to the prejudiced views of the young observer.--Note of the Count von O------.]
The wiser course would certainly have been not to enter into compet.i.tion at all with an adversary of this description, and a few months back this is the part which the prince would have taken. But now he has launched too far into the stream easily to regain the sh.o.r.e. These trifles have, perhaps by the circ.u.mstances in which he is placed, acquired a certain degree of importance in his eyes, and had he even despised them his pride would not have allowed him to retire at a moment when his yielding would have been looked upon less as a voluntary act than as a confession of inferiority. Added to this, an unlucky revival of forgotten satirical speeches had taken place, and the spirit of rivalry which took possession of his followers had affected the prince himself. In order, therefore, to maintain that position in society which public opinion had now a.s.signed him, he deemed it advisable to seize every possible opportunity of display, and of increasing the number of his admirers; but this could only be effected by the most princely expenditure; he was therefore eternally giving feasts, entertainments, and expensive concerts, making costly presents, and playing high. As this strange madness, moreover, had also infected the prince"s retinue, who are generally much more punctilious in respect to what they deem "the honor of the family" than their masters, the prince was obliged to a.s.sist the zeal of his followers by his liberality. Here, then, is a whole catalogue of ills, all irremediable consequences of a sufficiently excusable weakness to which the prince in an unguarded moment gave way.
We have, it is true, got rid of our rival, but the harm he has done will not so soon be remedied. The finances of the prince are exhausted; all that he had saved by the wise economy of years is spent; and he must hasten from Venice if he would escape plunging into debt, which till now he has most scrupulously avoided. It is decisively settled that we leave as soon as fresh remittances arrive.
I should not have minded all this splendor if the prince had but reaped the least real satisfaction from it. But he was never less happy than at present. He feels that he is not what he formerly was; he seeks to regain his self-respect; he is dissatisfied with himself, and launches into fresh dissipation in order to drown the recollection of the last.
One new acquaintance follows another, and each involves him more deeply.
I know not where this will end. We must away--there is no other chance of safety--we must away from Venice.
But, my dear friend, I have not yet received a single line from you.
How am I to interpret this long and obstinate silence?
LETTER IV.
BARON VON F------ TO COUNT VON O------.
June 12.
I thank you, my dear friend, for the token of your remembrance which young B---hl brought me. But what is it you say about letters I ought to have received? I have received no letter from you; not a single one.
What a circuitous route must they have taken. In future, dear O------, when you honor me with an epistle despatch it via Trent, under cover to the prince, my master.
We have at length been compelled, my dear friend, to resort to a measure which till now we had so happily avoided. Our remittances have failed to arrive--failed, for the first time, in this pressing emergency, and we have been obliged to have recourse to a usurer, as the prince is willing to pay handsomely to keep the affair secret. The worst of this disagreeable occurrence is, that it r.e.t.a.r.ds our departure. On this affair the prince and I have had an explanation. The whole transaction had been arranged by Biondello, and the son of Israel was there before I had any suspicion of the fact. It grieved me to the heart to see the prince reduced to such an extremity, and revived all my recollections of the past, and fears for the future; and I suppose I may have looked rather sorrowful and gloomy when the usurer left the room. The prince, whom the foregoing scene had left in not the happiest frame of mind, was pacing angrily up and down the room; the rouleaus of gold were still lying on the table; I stood at the window, counting the panes of gla.s.s in the procurator"s house opposite. There was a long pause. At length the prince broke silence. "F------!" he began, "I cannot bear to see dismal faces about me."
I remained silent.
"Why do you not answer me? Do I not perceive that your heart is almost bursting to vent some of its vexation? I insist on your speaking, otherwise you will begin to fancy that you are keeping some terribly momentous secret."
"If I am gloomy, gracious sir," replied I, "it is only because I do not see you cheerful."
"I know," continued he, "that you have been dissatisfied with me for some time past--that you disapprove of every step I take--that--what does Count O------ say in his letters?"
"Count O------ has not written to me."
"Not written? Why do you deny it? You keep up a confidential correspondence together, you and the count; I am quite aware of that.
Come, you may confess it, for I have no wish to pry into your secrets."
"Count O------," replied I, "has not yet answered any of the three letters which I have written to him."
"I have done wrong," continued he; "don"t you think so?" (taking up one of the rouleaus) "I should not have done this?"
"I see that it was necessary."
"I ought not to have reduced myself to such a necessity?"
I did not answer.
"Oh, of course! I ought never to have indulged my wishes, but have grown gray in the same dull manner in which I was brought up! Because I once venture a step beyond the drear monotony of my past life, and look around me to see whether there be not some new source of enjoyment in store for me--because I--"
"If it was but a trial, gracious sir, I have no more to say; for the experience you have gained would not be dearly bought at three times the price it has cost. It grieves me, I confess, to think that the opinion of the world should be concerned in determining the question--how are you to choose your own happiness."
"It is well for you that you can afford to despise the world"s opinion,"
replied he, "I am its creature, I must be its slave. What are we princes but opinion? With us it is everything. Public opinion is our nurse and preceptor in infancy, our oracle and idol in riper years, our staff in old age. Take from us what we derive from the opinion of the world, and the poorest of the humblest cla.s.s is in a better position than we, for his fate has taught him a lesson of philosophy which enables him to bear it. But a prince who laughs at the world"s opinion destroys himself, like the priest who denies the existence of a G.o.d."
"And yet, gracious prince--"
"I see what you would say; I can break through the circle which my birth has drawn around me. But can I also eradicate from my memory all the false impressions which education and early habit have implanted, and which a hundred thousand fools have been continually laboring to impress more and more firmly? Everybody naturally wishes to be what he is in perfection; in short, the whole aim of a prince"s existence is to appear happy. If we cannot be happy after your fashion, is that any reason why we should discard all other means of happiness, and not be happy at all?
If we cannot drink of joy pure from the fountain-head, can there be any reason why we should not beguile ourselves with artificial pleasure-- nay, even be content to accept a sorry subst.i.tute from the very hand that robs us of the higher boon?"
"You were wont to look for this compensation in your own heart."
"But if I no longer find it there? Oh, how came we to fall on this subject? Why did you revive these recollections in me? I had recourse to this tumult of the senses in order to stifle an inward voice which embitters my whole life; in order to lull to rest this inquisitive reason, which, like a sharp sickle, moves to and fro in my brain, at each new research lopping off another branch of my happiness."
"My dearest prince"--He had risen, and was pacing up and down the room in unusual agitation.
[I have endeavored, dearest O------, to relate to you this remarkable conversation exactly as it occurred; but this I found impossible, although I sat down to write it the evening of the day it took place. In order to a.s.sist my memory I was obliged to transpose the observation of the prince, and thus this compound of a conversation and a philosophical lecture, which is in some respects better and in others worse than the source from which I took it, arose; but I a.s.sure you that I have rather omitted some of the prince"s words than ascribed to him any of my own; all that is mine is the arrangement, and a few observations, whose ownership you will easily recognize by their stupidity.--Note of the Baron von F------]
"When everything gives way before me and behind me; when the past lies in the distance in dreary monotony, like a city of the dead; when the future offers me naught; when I see my whole being enclosed within the narrow circle of the present, who can blame me if I clasp this n.i.g.g.ardly present of time in my arms with fiery eagerness, as though it were a friend whom I was embracing for the last time? Oh, I have learnt to value the present moment. The present moment is our mother; let us love it as such."
"Gracious sir, you were wont to believe in a more lasting good."
"Do but make the enchantment last and fervently will I embrace it. But what pleasure can it give to me to render beings happy who to-morrow will have pa.s.sed away like myself? Is not everything pa.s.sing away around me? Each one bustles and pushes his neighbor aside hastily to catch a few drops from the fountain of life, and then departs thirsting.
At this very moment, while I am rejoicing in lily strength, some being is waiting to start into life at my dissolution. Show me one being who will endure, and I will become a virtuous man."
"But what, then, has become of those benevolent sentiments which used to be the joy and the rule of your life? To sow seeds for the future, to a.s.sist in carrying out the designs of a high and eternal Providence"--
"Future! Eternal Providence! If you take away from man all that he derives from his own heart, all that he a.s.sociates with the idea of a G.o.dhead, and all that belongs to the law of nature, what, then, do you leave him?
"What has already happened to me, and what may still follow, I look upon as two black, impenetrable curtains hanging over the two extremities of human life, and which no mortal has ever yet drawn aside. Many hundred generations have stood before the second of these curtains, casting the light of their torches upon its folds, speculating and guessing as to what it may conceal. Many have beheld themselves, in the magnified image of their pa.s.sions, reflected upon the curtain which hides futurity from their gaze, and have turned away shuddering from their own shadows.
Poets, philosophers, and statesmen have painted their fancies on the curtain in brighter or more sombre colors, according as their own prospects were bright or gloomy. Many a juggler has also taken advantage of the universal curiosity, and by well-managed deceptions led astray the excited imagination. A deep silence reigns behind this curtain; no one who pa.s.ses beyond it answers any questions; all the reply is an empty echo, like the sound yielded by a vault.
"Sooner or later all must go behind this curtain, and they approach it with fear and trembling, in doubt who may be waiting there behind to receive them; _quid sit id, quod tanturn morituri vident_. There have been infidels who a.s.serted that this curtain only deluded mankind, and that we saw nothing behind it, because there was nothing there to see; but, to convince them, they were quickly sent behind it themselves."