CHAPTER XIX.
When the last comer at a party enters the room he always excites a certain sensation in the assembled company, especially when, as was here the case, the arrival of the guest has been looked for with some curiosity. Oswald was a perfect stranger to the whole circle. His only acquaintance was the rector, whom he had met officially. The other gentlemen and ladies, belonging to the college, he had perhaps seen now and then in company during his former residence in Grunwald, but without noticing them or being noticed by them. When he had paid his visits during the day, he had found nobody at home except the Kubel family. The gentlemen were curious to see their new colleague, the older ladies the young man who might possibly become one of these days their son-in-law, and the young ladies the new acquisition for their social meetings--all were ready to examine him and to criticize. Thus there followed a pause in the merry conversation, as he entered, and he had to encounter the eyes of the whole company.
Undismayed by this cross-fire of glances, Oswald approached Mrs.
Clemens, kissed her hand, excused his late arrival, and begged her to present him to the other ladies, whom he was not yet fortunate enough to know. After this ceremony had been performed in due form, he begged the rector in like manner to make him acquainted with the gentlemen; then he turned again to the ladies to pay a few compliments to his hostess, and at last to Primula, who immediately entered upon a lively conversation with marked eagerness. Primula had taken Oswald from the first moment into her poetic heart, on account of his "fair, chevalieresque, and truly romantic appearance," as she called it, and all the admonitions of her husband had not been able permanently to arrest the current of her sympathetic sentiments. She had, to be sure, paid due respect in the country to existing circumstances, and dropped the fallen greatness, but she had determined in her heart to follow the impulse of her soul freely whenever she should be able to let her captive psyche fly with untrammelled wings. That moment had come now; she greeted Oswald, who had become more interesting than ever to her through his "exceedingly romantic catastrophe at Castle Grenwitz," with the double warmth of friendship and of admiration. Oswald, however, who was determined, if possible, to make himself acceptable to all the ladies, could not be kept long by all the charms of the poetess; he talked seriously with the elderly ladies, he teased the younger ones, and after ten minutes he seemed to have accomplished his end.
In the meantime he had been carefully watched by the gentlemen, who had gathered around Professor Jager. The interpreter of the fragments of Chrysophilos hated Oswald with a very hearty hatred. Oswald had never paid the vain man the attention which he claimed, and had even treated him with undisguised contempt, especially during the latter part of his stay at Grenwitz. Professor Jager had never forgotten the insult offered to Pastor Jager, and waited only for a suitable occasion to pay off the long accumulated debt. He was, however, far too clever and too cowardly to come out with it openly, as the gentlemen of the college now questioned him about Oswald, whom he declared he knew perfectly. He contented himself with mysterious hints, as: "a young man, about whom much might be said--you will see yourselves, gentlemen--I only hope he has grown more prudent in the meantime; hem! hem! You know he is one of Berger's pet pupils. Well, Berger is a remarkable man, a brilliant man; but he is at the asylum in Fichtenau, and we see once more that 'all is not gold that glitters;' hem! hem!" These and similar words fell like poisonous malaria upon the harmless souls of the pedagogues.
"If we had known that, _collega_!" said Rector Clemens secretly to Professor Snellius.
Professor Snellius shrugged his shoulders, and replied,
"I hope much from the advantages he will have in his intercourse with us. The acquaintance of really well-bred, learned----"
"Truly humane," supplied the rector.
"Truly humane men," continued the professor, "is the best training for genuine culture and erudition----"
"And humanity," supplied the rector.
"What do you think of our new colleague, Winimer?" asked Doctor Broadfoot, who had noticed with great disgust how merrily Miss Fredegunda, who generally distinguished herself by a certain morose reserve, was now chatting and laughing with Oswald.
"I believe the gentleman is a great dandy," replied Mr. Winimer, passing his hand through his hair. "He has a way of bending over ladies in their chairs which is downright intolerable. I am afraid we shall never be good friends."
"But that is too bad," cried Mr. Broadfoot, and advanced with the intention to interrupt the conversation between Oswald and Fredegunda, but he lost his courage on the way; and in order to mask the unsuccessful attack, he took a cup of tea from the waiter which a maid presented to him, and then, cup in hand, he remained standing in the centre of the room, the picture of helpless embarrassment.
He was fortunately soon relieved by the question of the lady manager, whether they should now begin the reading of Wallenstein--the original purpose of their meeting--and the invitation to follow her into the adjoining room.
"In which part will you, madame, give us an example?" asked Oswald.
"But why do I ask? There is in Wallenstein only one part for you, as in this company there is but one lady fit for that part--yourself!"
"You are jesting," said the poetess, tapping him gently on the arm with the book which she was holding in her hand; "why should I have any privilege?"
"But, surely, there can be but one opinion about this that the most poetical character in the piece ought to be represented by the most poetical character in the company; and again, there can be but one opinion as to who that is."
"And who--ha! I will try to overcome my childish bashfulness--who could that be?" asked Primula, with melting voice, raising her eyes in sweet anticipation to Oswald.
"Permit me to take the copy you are holding in your hand, a moment.
Thanks! I see there is a mark. Let us see where it is. 'Act Third.--Scene First.--Countess Terzky: Thekla, Fraulein von Neubrunn.'
Thekla under-scored. I thank you, Thekla!"
"That is an accident," cried the blushing poetess, pressing the book, which Oswald handed back to her with an ironical bow, to her bosom. "I swear it to you by the nine Muses, it is an accident."
"And I swear by father Apollo himself, and by all the other Olympians besides, that I believe in no accident, at least only in the most fortunate accident which has led me to-night once more into the company of--may I venture to say so--of a friend."
"If you may say so!" cried the poetess, tenderly pressing Oswald's arm with her own; "if you may say so! Oh believe me, Mr. Stein, I have been your friend ever since you put your foot on our humble threshold; I have always taken your part when prosaic minds, without reverence for the Great and the Beautiful----"
Primula was forced to arrest the overflowing waters of her tenderness, which Oswald had called forth so suddenly by his coarse flattery; for at that moment they had reached the adjoining room, where a part of the company were already seated around the long table, which was covered with a white cloth, and lighted up with two lamps and two candles. At the upper end stood Mrs. Rector Clemens, the founder and manager of the "Dramatic Club," looking at her company like a herd at his flock, and appointing to the still homeless guests their seats, gesticulating fiercely with her arms, and letting her deep voice out more fully than seemed absolutely necessary.
"Sit down by Fredegunda, Doctor Broadfoot. Will you take a seat by my daughter Thusnelda, Doctor Stein? Mrs. Jager, you will please take a seat by Professor Snellius. Professor Jager, you by Mrs. Kubel. Well, now we are all seated."
Mrs. Manager seized a bell, which stood before her on the table, and began to ring it for half a minute with all the energy of a president of a parliament who wishes to drown the mad voices of a few hundred furious representatives of the people. As the absolute silence reigning in the whole assembly furnished no pretext for this display of energetic efforts, Mrs. Manager at last put the bell down on the table, and seized instead a sheet of paper, on which, as on a theatre bill, the parts in the piece and the names of the company were arranged in double columns.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" she said, examining the faces of the audience, as they looked up to her, with satisfaction. "You know that we have chosen at our last sitting 'Wallenstein's Death' for this meeting with universal acclimatization; I meant to say, acclamation. As unfortunately the piece has more parts than we have members, I have been forced to leave out several which did not appear to me essential.
But even then there remained a few which I could not well fill, and which would have remained blank if some of our dear guests who give us the pleasure of their company to-night had not put it into my power to complete the bill to the general satisfaction of all, I hope. Although most of you already know which part has been allotted to you, I will for the sake of regularity, and especially for the benefit of our dear guests, read the whole list from the beginning once more. Listen then, I pray, attentively!"
Mrs. Manager cleared her voice and read, amid the attentive silence of the company:
Wallenstein, Rector Clemens.
Octavio Piccolomini, Professor Snellius.
Max Piccolomini, Doctor Winimer.
Terzky, Fredegunda Clemens.
Illo, Doctor Kubel.
Butler, Doctor Broadfoot.
Gordon, Mrs. Kubel.
Seni, Miss Ida Snellius.
Duchess, Mrs. Snellius.
Countess Terzky, Myself.
Thekla, Thusnelda Clemens.
Fraulein Neubrunn, Marie Kubel.
Swedish Captain, Doctor Stein.
Devereux, Mr. and Mrs. Jager.
MacDonald, / Captains in Wallenstein's army.
Oswald, who had been not a little amused by this original distribution, had to bite his lips not to laugh loud, when he saw the foolish faces made by the last-named persons as they heard their names coupled so intimately with the names of the murderers of the hero. Professor Jager drew down the corners of his mouth lower than Oswald had ever seen them; and Primula, who had turned as white as the lace collar on her pale-yellow dress, seemed to be on the point of breaking into tears.
That was, then, the triumph which she had hoped for from this night!
Was this the hospitable house of dear friends, who were so proud of their perfect humanity? or was it a blood-dripping cave of brutal Troglodytes? Was he the interpreter of the fragments of Chrysophilos, or was he not? Was she the famous author of the "Cornflowers," or was she not? And no cry of indignation broke forth from the throats of all who had heard with their own ears this desecration of names so renowned in science and in art!
The professor and his wife looked at each other across the table with eyes in which an attentive observer might have read these and other questions; then they glanced around the company at the table to see what impression such blasphemy must needs have produced upon the audience. But no one seemed to think any harm about this disgraceful insult to scientific and poetic fame; no one, with the exception perhaps of fat Doctor Kubel, who replied to an interrogative glance of the professor with a friendly grin, and Oswald, who stealthily pressed Primula's hand under the table as a sign of his sympathy, for Primula sat on his left, while Thusnelda was his right-hand neighbor. Otherwise nobody troubled himself about the insulted sufferers, each one was busy only with his own part, and the impression he hoped to make upon the others, and all awaited now the signal for beginning. The lady manager gave it at once, with the same grace and the same noise with which, in a menagerie, the docile elephant rings the bell for dinner, and the bear or the monkey for supper.
Mrs. Clemens presented next, in a neat little speech to Miss Ida Snellius, the offer to "come down, as day was breaking and Mars in the ascendant," whereupon the young lady begged her to "let her observe Venus first, that was just rising and shining in the east like a sun,"
but her voice was so indistinct as to be almost inaudible, either from the great remoteness of the astronomer or from the embarrassment of the performer.
The rest corresponded with this interesting beginning, and they inflicted upon the unlucky drama all the horrors which art-loving ladies and gentlemen are apt to practice when they assemble for the purpose of reading a drama with "distributed parts," as they call it.
Rector Clemens changed Wallenstein into the gentle member of a Moravian brotherhood; Professor Snellius, the clever, intriguing Octavio, into a wooden pedant; Doctor Winimer howled and groaned as the noble son of an ignoble father, so that unspeakable horror befell every heart; and Doctor Kubel seemed to take Illo for Chamisso's washerwoman; while Doctor Broadfoot read silent Butler's words as if he had been a charlatan dentist at a fair. Countess Terzky became one of Pappenheim's Cuirassiers; and Thekla, in the hands of Miss Thusnelda, a love-sick seamstress.
And with all that, there was a holy zeal animating them all and inducing them to turn over the leaves long before their turn came again, and thus to produce a continuous rustling; and with all that, an unvarnished enthusiasm which rewarded the performances of some, as those of Doctor Winimer; and with all that an unselfish modesty with which less gifted members, like Marie Kubel, submitted to correction on the part of Rector Clemens, who enjoyed, by the regulations of the club, the privilege of interrupting the reader and of pointing out to him or to her the mistakes made in reciting.
Oswald enjoyed this Babylonian confusion, this nibbling of mice at the club of Hercules, until gradually disgust overcame him, and even the sight of Mr. and Mrs. Jager was no longer able to cause him to laugh heartily. The professor sat, lost in his large easy-chair, immovable, the corners of his mouth drawn down so low that its outline presented the form of a horse-shoe, while he looked with his small, green eyes over the frame of his large, round spectacles at his wife, his fellow-sufferer, his companion in his disgrace. The conduct of the poetess was, of course, far more striking, as might have been expected from so eccentric a character. Now she would throw herself back in her chair with crossed arms and fix her eyes on the ceiling, and now she would lean forward and support her head, with the golden hair and the wreath of blue cornflowers, in her hands. Then again she smiled a smile of supreme contempt, or she yawned as if overcome by intolerable ennui.
Oswald was very curious to see what she would do when her turn came, for she had whispered to him at the beginning, in feverish excitement, "I will not read; rely upon it, I will not read!"
However, his curiosity was not to be so easily satisfied, for after Mr.
Winimer had declared himself at the end of the third act, with a final effort of all his voice, "ready to die," Mrs. Clemens once more began to ring with all her might, and gave thus the signal for a long pause, which, according to -- 25 of the statutes, occurred in a drama of five acts invariably after the third act, and in a piece of four acts after the second, and during which, according to -- 26, wine and cake were handed round.
In order to comply with the tenor of these paragraphs, the company left the table and returned to the sitting room in the highly excited condition in which people come from a finished artistic performance.