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 pass. 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
   passages of his first letter) pronounces 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 competition
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 shore. These trifles have,
perhaps by the circumstances 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 assigned 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 assist 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 retards 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 glass
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 class 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 God."

"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 substitute 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 assist 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 assure 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 niggardly
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 passed away like myself? Is not everything passing 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
assist 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 associates with the idea of a
godhead, 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 passions, 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 passes 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 asserted 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."

"It was indeed a rash conclusion," said I, "if they had no better ground
for it than that they saw nothing themselves."

"You see, my dear friend, I am modest enough not to wish to look behind
this curtain, and the wisest course will doubtless be to abstain from
all curiosity. But while I draw this impassable circle around me, and
confine myself within the bounds of present existence, this small point
of time, which I was in danger of neglecting in useless researches,
becomes the more important to me. What you call the chief end and aim
of my existence concerns me no longer. I cannot escape my destiny; I
cannot promote its consummation; but I know, and firmly believe, that I
am here to accomplish some end, and that I do accomplish it. But the
means which nature has chosen to fulfil my destiny are so much the more
sacred to me; to me it is everything; my morality, my happiness. All
the rest I shall never learn. I am like a messenger who carries a
sealed letter to its place of destination. What the letter contains is
indifferent to him; his business is only to earn his fee for carrying
it."

"Alas!" said I, "how poor a thing you would leave me!"

"But in what a labyrinth have we lost ourselves!" exclaimed the prince,
looking with a smile at the table on which the rouleaus lay. "After all
perhaps not far from the mark," continued he; "you will now no doubt
understand my reasons for this new mode of life. I could not so
suddenly tear myself away from my fancied wealth, could not so readily
separate the props of my morality and happiness from the pleasing dream
with which everything within me was so closely bound up. I longed for
the frivolity which seems to render the existence of most of those about
me endurable to themselves. Everything which precluded reflection was
welcome to me. Shall I confess it to you? I wished to lower myself, in
order to destroy this source of my griefs, by deadening the power of
reflection."

Here we were interrupted by a visit. In my next I shall have to
communicate to you a piece of news, which, from the tenor of a
conversation like the one of to-day, you would scarcely have
anticipated.




LETTER V.

BARON VON F------ TO COUNT VON O------.

As the time of our departure from Venice is now approaching with rapid
steps, this week was to be devoted to seeing everything worthy of notice
in pictures and public edifices; a task which, when one intends making a
long stay in a place, is always delayed till the last moment.

The "Marriage at Cana," by Paul Veronese, which is to be seen in a
Benedictine convent in the Island of St. George, was in particular
mentioned to us in high terms. Do not expect me to give you a
description of this extraordinary work of art, which, on the whole,
made a very surprising, but not equally pleasing, impression on me.
We should have required as many hours as we had minutes to study a
composition of one hundred and twenty figures, upon a ground thirty feet
broad. What human eye is capable of grasping so complicated a whole, or
at once to enjoy all the beauty which the artist has everywhere
lavished, upon it! It is, however, to be lamented, that a work of so
much merit, which if exhibited in some public place, would command the
admiration of every one, should be destined merely to ornament the
refectory of a few monks. The church of the monastery is no less worthy
of admiration, being one of the finest in the whole city. Towards
evening we went in a gondola to the Guidecca, in order to spend the
pleasant hours of evening in its charming garden. Our party, which was
not very numerous, soon dispersed in various directions; and Civitella,
who had been waiting all day for an opportunity of speaking to me
privately, took me aside into an arbor.

"You are a friend to the prince," he began, "from whom he is accustomed
to keep no secrets, as I know from very good authority. As I entered
his hotel to-day I met a man coming out whose occupation is well known
to me, and when I entered the room the prince's brow was clouded."
I wished to interrupt him,--"You cannot deny it," continued he; "I knew
the man, I looked at him well. And is it possible that the prince
should have a friend in Venice--a friend who owes his life to him, and
yet be reduced on an emergency to make use of such creatures?"

"Tell me frankly, Baron! Is the prince in difficulties? It is in vain
you strive to conceal it from me. What! you refuse to tell me! I can
easily learn from one who would sell any secret for gold."

"My good Marquis!"

"Pardon me! I must appear intrusive in order not to be ungrateful.
To the prince I am indebted for life, and what is still more, for a
reasonable use of it. Shall I stand idly by and see him take steps
which, besides being inconvenient to him, are beneath his dignity?
Shall I feel it in my power to assist him, and hesitate for a moment to
step forward?"

"The prince," replied I, "is not in difficulties. Some remittances
which we expected via Trent have not yet arrived, most likely either by
accident, or because not feeling certain whether he had not already left
Venice, they waited for a communication from him. This has now been
done, and until their arrival--"

Civitella shook his head. "Do not mistake my motive," said he; "in this
there can be no question as to diminishing the extent of my obligations
towards the prince, which all my uncle's wealth would be insufficient to
cancel. My object is simply to spare him a few unpleasant moments. My
uncle possesses a large fortune which I can command as freely as though
it were my own. A fortunate circumstance occurs, which enables me to
avail myself of the only means by which I can possibly be of the
slightest use to your master. I know," continued he, "how much delicacy
the prince possesses, but the feeling is mutual, and it would be noble
on his part to afford me this slight gratification, were it only to make
me appear to feel less heavily the load of obligation under which I
labor."

He continued to urge his request, until I had pledged my word to assist
him to the utmost of my ability. I knew the prince's character, and had
but small hopes of success. The marquis promised to agree to any
conditions the prince might impose, but added, that it would deeply
wound him to be regarded in the light of a stranger.

In the heat of our conversation we had strayed far away from the rest of
the company, and were returning, when Z-------- came to meet us.

"I am in search of the prince," he cried; "is he not with you?"

"We were just going to him," was our reply. "We thought to find him
with the rest of the party."

"The company is all together, but he is nowhere to be found. I cannot
imagine how we lost sight of him."

It now occurred to Civitella that he might have gone to look at the
adjoining church, which had a short time before attracted his attention.
We immediately went to look for him there. As we approached, we found
Biondello waiting in the porch. On coming nearer, we saw the prince
emerge hastily from a side door; his countenance was flushed, and he
looked anxiously round for Biondello, whom he called. He seemed to be
giving him very particular instructions for the execution of some
commission, while his eyes continued constantly fixed on the church
door, which had remained open. Biondello hastened into the church. The
prince, without perceiving us, passed through the crowd, and went back
to his party, which he reached before us.

We resolved to sup in an open pavilion of the garden, where the marquis
had, without our knowledge, arranged a little concert, which was quite
first-rate. There was a young singer in particular, whose delicious
voice and charming figure excited general admiration. Nothing, however,
seemed to make an impression on the prince; he spoke little, and gave
confused answers to our questions; his eyes were anxiously fixed in the
direction whence he expected Biondello; and he seemed much agitated.
Civitella asked him what he thought of the church; he was unable to give
any description of it. Some beautiful pictures, which rendered the
church remarkable, were spoken of; the prince had not noticed them. We
perceived that our questions annoyed him, and therefore discontinued
them. Hour after hour rolled on and still Biondello returned not. The
prince could no longer conceal his impatience; he rose from the table,
and paced alone, with rapid strides, up and down a retired walk. Nobody
could imagine what had happened to him. I did not venture to ask him
the reason of so remarkable a change in his demeanor; I have for some
time past resigned my former place in his confidence. It was,
therefore, with the utmost impatience that I awaited the return of
Biondello to explain this riddle to me.

It was past ten o'clock when he made his appearance. The tidings he
brought did not make the prince more communicative. He returned in an
ill-humor to the company, the gondola was ordered, and we returned.
home.

During the remainder of that evening I could find no opportunity of
speaking to Biondello, and was, therefore, obliged to retire to my
pillow with my curiosity unsatisfied. The prince had dismissed us
early, but a thousand reflections flitted across my brain, and kept me
awake. For a long time I could hear him pacing up and down his room; at
length sleep overcame me. Late at midnight I was awakened by a voice,
and I felt a hand passed across my face; I opened my eyes, and saw the
prince standing at my bedside, with a lamp in his hand. He told me he
was unable to sleep, and begged me to keep him company through the
night. I was going to dress myself, but he told me to stay where I was,
and seated himself at my bedside.

"Something has happened to me to-day," he began, "the impression of
which will never be effaced from my soul. I left you, as you know, to
see the church, respecting which Civitella had raised my curiosity, and
which had already attracted my attention. As neither you nor he were at
hand, I walked the short distance alone, and ordered Biondello to wait
for me at the door. The church was quite empty; a dim and solemn light
surrounded me as I entered from the blazing sultry day without. I stood
alone in the spacious building, throughout which there reigned the
stillness of the grave. I placed myself in the centre of the church,
and gave myself up to the feelings which the sight was calculated to
produce; by degrees the grand proportions of this majestic building
expanded to my gaze, and I stood wrapt in deep and pleasing
contemplation. Above me the evening bell was tolling; its tones died
softly away in the aisles, and found an echo in my heart. Some
altar-pieces at a distance attracted my attention. I approached to look
at them; unconsciously I had wandered through one side of the church, and
was now standing at the opposite end. Here a few steps, raised round a
pillar, led into a little chapel, containing several small altars, with
statues of saints in the niches above them. On entering the chapel on the
right I heard a whispering, as though some one near was speaking in a low
voice. I turned towards the spot whence the sound proceeded, and saw
before me a female form. No! I cannot describe to you the beauty of this
form. My first feeling was one of awe, which, however, soon gave place to
ravishing surprise."

"But this figure, your highness? Are you certain that it was something
living, something real, and not perhaps a picture, or an illusion of
your fancy?"

"Hear me further. It was a lady. Surely, till that moment, I have
never seen her sex in its full perfection! All around was sombre; the
setting sun shone through a single window into the chapel, and its rays
rested upon her figure. With inexpressible grace, half kneeling, half
lying, she was stretched before an altar; one of the most striking, most
lovely, and picturesque objects in all nature. Her dress was of black
moreen, fitting tightly to her slender waist and beautifully-formed
arms, the skirts spreading around her like a Spanish robe; her long
light-colored hair was divided into two broad plaits, which, apparently
from their own weight, had escaped from under her veil, and flowed in
charming disorder down her back. One of her hands grasped the crucifix,
and her head rested gracefully upon the other. But, where shall I find
words to describe to you the angelic beauty of her countenance, in which
the charms of a seraph seemed displayed. The setting sun shone full
upon her face, and its golden beams seemed to surround it as with a
glory. Can you recall to your mind the Madonna of our Florentine
painter? She was here personified, even to those few deviations from
the studied costume which so powerfully, so irresistibly attracted me in
the picture."

With regard to the Madonna, of whom the prince spoke, the case is this:
Shortly after your departure he made the acquaintance of a Florentine
painter, who had been summoned to Venice to paint an altar-piece for
some church, the name of which I do not recollect. He had brought with
him three paintings, which had been intended for the gallery in the
Cornari palace. They consisted of a Madonna, a Heloise, and a Venus,
very lightly apparelled. All three were of great beauty; and, although
the subjects were quite different, they were so intrinsically equal that
it seemed almost impossible to determine which to prefer. The prince
alone did not hesitate for a moment. As soon as the pictures were
placed before him the Madonna absorbed his whole attention; in the two
others he admired the painter's genius; but in this he forgot the artist
and his art, his whole soul being absorbed in the contemplation of the
work. He was quite moved, and could scarcely tear himself away from it.
We could easily see by the artist's countenance that in his heart he
coincided with the prince's judgment; he obstinately refused to separate
the pictures, and demanded fifteen hundred zechins for the three. The
prince offered him half that sum for the Madonna alone, but in vain.
The artist insisted on his first demand, and who knows what might have
been the result if a ready purchaser had not stepped forward.

Two hours afterwards all three pictures were sold, and we never saw them
again. It was this Madonna which now recurred to the prince's mind.

"I stood," continued he, "gazing at her in silent admiration. She did
not observe me; my arrival did not disturb her, so completely was she
absorbed in her devotion. She prayed to her Deity, and I prayed to her
--yes, I adored her! All the pictures of saints, all the altars and the
burning tapers around me had failed to remind me of what now for the
first time burst upon me, that I was in a sacred place. Shall I confess
it to you? In that moment I believed firmly in Him whose image was
clasped in her beautiful hand. I read in her eyes that he answered her
prayers. Thanks be to her charming devotion, it had revealed him to me.
I wandered with her through all the paradise of prayer.

"She rose, and I recollected myself. I stepped aside confused; but the
noise I made in moving discovered me. I thought that the unexpected
presence of a man might alarm, that my boldness would offend her; but
neither of these feelings were expressed in the look with which she
regarded me. Peace, benign peace, was portrayed in her countenance, and
a cheerful smile played upon her lips. She was descending from her
heaven; and I was the first happy mortal who met her benevolent look.
Her mind was still wrapt in her concluding prayer; she had not yet come
in contact with earth.

"I now heard something stir in the opposite corner of the chapel. It
was an elderly lady, who rose from a cushion close behind me. Till now
I had not observed her. She had been distant only a few steps from me.
and must have seen my every motion. This confused me. I cast my eyes
to the earth, and both the ladies passed by me."

On this last point I thought myself able to console the prince.

"Strange," continued he, after a long silence, "that there should be
something which one has never known--never missed; and that yet on a
sudden one should seem to live and breathe for that alone. Can one
single moment so completely metamorphose a human being? It would now be
as impossible for me to indulge in the wishes or enjoy the pleasures of
yesterday as it would be to return to the toys of my childhood, and all
this since I have seen this object which lives and rules in the inmost
recesses of my soul. It seems to say that I can love nothing else, and
that nothing else in this world can produce an impression on me."

"But consider, gracious prince," said I, "the excitable mood you were in
when this apparition surprised you, and how all the circumstances
conspired to inflame your imagination. Quitting the dazzling light of
day and the busy throng of men, you were suddenly surrounded by twilight
and repose. You confess that you had quite given yourself up to those
solemn emotions which the majesty of the place was calculated to awaken;
the contemplation of fine works of art had rendered you more susceptible
to the impressions of beauty in any form. You supposed yourself alone--
when you saw a maiden who, I will readily allow, may have been very
beautiful, and whose charms were heightened by a favorable illumination
of the setting sun, a graceful attitude, and an expression of fervent
devotion--what is more natural than that your vivid fancy should look
upon such a form as something supernaturally perfect?"

"Can the imagination give what it never received?" replied he. "In the
whole range of my fancy there is nothing which I can compare with that
image. It is impressed on my mind distinctly and vividly as in the
moment when I beheld it. I can think of nothing but that picture; but
you might offer me whole worlds for it in vain."

"My gracious prince, this is love."

"Must the sensation which makes me happy necessarily have a name?
Love! Do not degrade my feeling by giving it a name which is so often
misapplied by the weak-minded. Who ever felt before what I do now?
Such a being never before existed; how then can the name be admitted
before the emotion which it is meant to express? Mine is a novel and
peculiar feeling, connected only with this being, and capable of being
applied to her alone. Love! From love I am secure!"

"You sent away Biondello, no doubt, to follow in the steps of these
strangers, and to make inquiries concerning them. What news did he
bring you?"

"Biondello discovered nothing; or, at least, as good as nothing. An
aged, respectably dressed man, who looked more like a citizen than a
servant, came to conduct them to their gondola. A number of poor people
placed themselves in a row, and quitted her, apparently well satisfied.
Biondello said he saw one of her hands, which was ornamented with
several precious stones. She spoke a few words, which Biondello could
not comprehend, to her companion; he says it was Greek. As she had some
distance to walk to the canal, the people began to throng together,
attracted by the strangeness of her appearance. Nobody knew her--but
beauty seems born to rule. All made way for her in a respectful manner.
She let fall a black veil, that covered half of her person, over her
face, and hastened into the gondola. Along the whole Giudecca Biondello
managed to keep the boat in view, but the crowd prevented his following
it further."

"But surely he took notice of the gondolier so as to be able to
recognize him again."

"He has undertaken to find out the gondolier, but he is not one of those
with whom he associates. The mendicants, whom he questioned, could give
him no further information than that the signora had come to the church
for the last few Saturdays, and had each time divided a gold-piece among
them. It was a Dutch ducat, which Biondello changed for them, and
brought to me."

"It appears, then, that she is a Greek--most likely of rank; at any
rate, rich and charitable. That is as much as we dare venture to
conclude at present, gracious sir; perhaps too much. But a Greek lady
in a Catholic church?"

"Why not? She may have changed her religion. But there is certainly
some mystery in the affair. Why should she go only once a week? Why
always on Saturday, on which day, as Biondello tells me, the church is
generally deserted. Next Saturday, at the latest, must decide this
question. Till then, dearest friend, you must help me to while away the
hours. But it is in vain. They will go their lingering pace, though my
soul is burning with expectation!"

"And when this day at length arrives--what, then, gracious prince? What
do you purpose doing?"

"What do I purpose doing? I shall see her. I will discover where she
lives and who she is. But to what does all this tend? I hear you ask.
What I saw made me happy; I therefore now know wherein my happiness
consists!

"And our departure from Venice, which is fixed for next Monday?"

"How could I know that Venice still contained such a treasure for me?
You ask me questions of my past life. I tell you that from this day
forward I will begin a new existence."

I thought that now was the opportunity to keep my word to the marquis.
I explained to the prince that a protracted stay in Venice was
altogether incompatible with the exhausted state of his finances, and
that, if he extended his sojourn here beyond the appointed time, he
could not reckon on receiving funds from his court. On this occasion,
I learned what had hitherto been a secret to me, namely, that the prince
had, without the knowledge of his other brothers, received from his
sister, the reigning ----- of --------, considerable loans, which she
would gladly double if his court left him in the lurch. This sister,
who, as you know, is a pious enthusiast, thinks that the large savings
which she makes at a very economical court cannot be deposited in better
hands than in those of a brother whose wise benevolence she well knows,
and whose character she warmly honors. I have, indeed, known for some
time that a very close intercourse has been kept up between the two,
and that many letters have been exchanged; but, as the prince's own
resources have hitherto always been sufficient to cover his expenditure,
I had never guessed at this hidden channel. It is clear, therefore,
that the prince must have had some expenses which have been and still
are unknown to me; but if I can judge of them by his general character,
they will certainly not be of such a description as to tend to his
disgrace. And yet I thought I understood him thoroughly. After this
disclosure, I of course did not hesitate to make known to him the
marquis' offer, which, to my no small surprise, he immediately accepted.
He gave me the authority to transact the business with the marquis in
whatever way I thought most advisable, and then immediately to settle
the account with the usurer. To his sister he proposed to write without
delay.

It was morning when we separated. However disagreeable this affair is
to me for more than one reason, the worst of it is that it seems to
threaten a longer residence in Venice. From the prince's passion I
rather augur good than evil. It is, perhaps, the most powerful method
of withdrawing him from his metaphysical dreams to the concerns and
feelings of real life. It will have its crisis, and, like an illness
produced by artificial means, will eradicate the natural disorder.

Farewell, my dear friend. I have written down these incidents
immediately upon their occurrence. The post starts immediately; you
will receive this letter on the same day as my last.




LETTER VI.

BARON F------ TO COUNT O-------.
June 20.

This Civitella is certainly one of the most obliging personages in the
world. The prince had scarcely left me the other day before I received
a note from the marquis enforcing his former offers with renewed
earnestness. I instantly forwarded, in the prince's name, a bond for
six thousand zechins; in less than half an hour it was returned, with
double the sum required, in notes and gold. The prince at length
assented to this increase, but insisted that the bond, which was drawn
only for six weeks, should be accepted.

The whole of the present week has been consumed in inquiries after the
mysterious Greek. Biondello set all his engines to work, but until now
in vain. He certainly discovered the gondolier; but from him he could
learn nothing, save that the ladies had disembarked on the island of
Murano, where they entered two sedan chairs which were waiting for them.
He supposed them to be English because they spoke a foreign language,
and had paid him in gold. He did not even know their guide, but
believed him to be a glass manufacturer from Murano. We were now, at
least, certain that we must not look for her in the Giudecca, and that
in all probability she lived in the island of Murano; but, unluckily,
the description the prince gave of her was not such as to make her
recognizable by a third party. The passionate interest with which he
had regarded her had hindered him from observing her minutely; for all
the minor details, which other people would not have failed to notice,
had escaped his observation; from his description one would have sooner
expected to find her prototype in the works of Ariosto or Tasso than on
a Venetian island. Besides, our inquiries had to be conducted with the
utmost caution, in order not to become prejudicial to the lady, or to
excite undue attention. As Biondello was the only man besides the
prince who had seen her, even through her veil, and could therefore
recognize her, he strove to be as much as possible in all the places
where she was likely to appear; the life of the poor man, during the
whole week, was a continual race through all the streets of Venice. In
the Greek church, particularly, every inquiry was made, but always with
the same ill-success; and the prince, whose impatience increased with
every successive failure, was at last obliged to wait till Saturday,
with what patience he might. His restlessness was excessive. Nothing
interested him, nothing could fix his attention. He was in constant
feverish excitement; he fled from society, but the evil increased in
solitude. He had never been so much besieged by visitors as in this
week. His approaching departure had been announced, and everybody
crowded to see him. It was necessary to occupy the attention of the
people in order to lull their suspicions, and to amuse the prince with
the view of diverting his mind from its all-engrossing object. In this
emergency Civitella hit upon play; and, for the purpose of driving away
most of the visitors, proposed that the stakes should be high. He hoped
by awakening in the prince a transient liking for play, from which it
would afterwards be easy to wean him, to destroy the romantic bent of
his passion. "The cards," said Civitella, "have saved me from many a
folly which I had intended to commit, and repaired many which I had
already perpetrated. At the faro table I have often recovered my
tranquillity of mind, of which a pair of bright eyes had robbed me, and
women never had more power over me than when I had not money enough to
play."

I will not enter into a discussion as to how far Civitella was right;
but the remedy we had hit upon soon began to be worse than the disease
it was intended to cure. The prince, who could only make the game at
all interesting to himself by staking extremely high, soon overstepped
all bounds. He was quite out of his element. Everything he did seemed
to be done in a passion; all his actions betrayed the uneasiness of his
mind. You know his general indifference to money; he seemed now to have
become totally insensible to its value. Gold flowed through his hands
like water. As he played without the slightest caution he lost almost
invariably. He lost immense sums, for he staked like a desperate
gamester. Dearest O------- , with an aching heart I write it, in four
days he had lost above twelve thousand zechins.

Do not reproach me. I blame myself sufficiently. But how could I
prevent it? Could I do more than warn him? I did all that was in my
power, and cannot find myself guilty. Civitella, too, lost not a
little; I won about six hundred zechins. The unprecedented ill-luck of
the prince excited general attention, and therefore he would not leave
off playing. Civitella, who is always ready to oblige him, immediately
advanced him the required sum. The deficit is made up; but the prince
owes the marquis twenty-four thousand zechins. Oh, how I long for the
savings of his pious sister. Are all sovereigns so, my dear friend?
The prince behaves as though he had done the marquis a great honor, and
he, at any rate, plays his part well.

Civitella sought to quiet me by saying that this recklessness, this
extraordinary ill-luck, would be most effectual in bringing the prince
to his senses. The money, he said, was of no consequence. He himself
would not feel the loss in the least, and would be happy to serve the
prince, at any moment, with three times the amount. The cardinal also
assured me that his nephew's intentions were honest, and that he should
be ready to assist him in carrying them out.

The most unfortunate thing was that these tremendous sacrifices did not
even effect their object. One would have thought that the prince would
at least feel some interest in his play. But such was not the case.
His thoughts were wandering far away, and the passion which we wished to
stifle by his ill-luck in play seemed, on the contrary, only to gather
strength. When, for instance, a decisive stroke was about to be played,
and every one's eyes were fixed, full of expectation, on the board, his
were searching for Biondello, in order to catch the news he might have
brought him, from the expression of his countenance. Biondello brought
no tidings, and his master's losses continued.

The gains, however, fell into very needy hands. A few "your
excellencies," whom scandal reports to be in the habit of carrying home
their frugal dinner from the market in their senatorial caps, entered
our house as beggars, and left it with well-lined purses. Civitella
pointed them out to me. "Look," said he, "how many poor devils make
their fortunes by one great man taking a whim into his head. This is
what I like to see. It is princely and royal. A great man must, even
by his failings, make some one happy, like a river which by its
overflowing fertilizes the neighboring fields."

Civitella has a noble and generous way of thinking, but the prince owes
him twenty-four thousand zechins.

At length the long-wished-for Saturday arrived, and my master insisted
upon going, directly after dinner, to the church. He stationed himself
in the chapel where he had first seen the unknown, but in such a way as
not to be immediately observed. Biondello had orders to keep watch at
the church door, and to enter into conversation with the attendant of
the ladies. I had taken upon myself to enter, like a chance passenger,
into the same gondola with them on their return, in order to follow
their track if the other schemes should fail. At the spot where the
gondolier said he had landed them the last time two sedans were
stationed; the chamberlain, Z------, was ordered to follow in a separate
gondola, in order to trace the retreat of the unknown, if all else
should fail. The prince wished to give himself wholly up to the
pleasure of seeing her, and, if possible, try to make her acquaintance
in the church. Civitella was to keep out of the way altogether, as his
reputation among the women of Venice was so bad that his presence could
not have failed to excite the suspicions of the lady. You see, dear
count, it was not through any want of precaution on our part that the
fair unknown escaped us.

Never, perhaps, was there offered up in any church such ardent prayers
for success, and never were hopes so cruelly disappointed. The prince
waited till after sunset, starting in expectation at every sound which
approached the chapel, and at every creaking of the church door. Seven
full hours passed, and no Greek lady. I need not describe his state of
mind. You know what hope deferred is, hope which one has nourished
unceasingly for seven days and nights.




LETTER VII.

BARON VON F------ TO COUNT VON O-------
July.

The mysterious unknown of the prince reminded Marquis Civitella of a
romantic incident which happened to himself a short time since, and, to
divert the prince, he offered to relate it. I will give it you in his
own words; but the lively spirit which he infuses into all he tells will
be lost in my narration.

(Here follows the subjoined fragment, which appeared in the eighth part
of the Thalia, and was originally intended for the second volume of the
Ghost-Seer. It found a place here after Schiller had given up the idea
of completing the Ghost-Seer.)

"In the spring of last year," began Civitella, "I had the misfortune to
embroil myself with the Spanish ambassador, a gentleman who, in his
seventieth year, had been guilty of the folly of wishing to marry a
Roman girl of eighteen. His vengeance pursued me, and my friends
advised me to secure my safety by a timely flight, and to keep out of
the way until the hand of nature, or an adjustment of differences, had
secured me from the wrath of this formidable enemy. As I felt it too
severe a punishment to quit Venice altogether, I took up my abode in a
distant quarter of the town, where I lived in a lonely house, under a
feigned name, keeping myself concealed by day, and devoting the night to
the society of my friends and of pleasure.

"My windows looked upon a garden, the west side of which was bounded by
the walls of a convent, while towards the east it jutted out into the
Laguna in the form of a little peninsula. The garden was charmingly
situated, but little frequented. It was my custom every morning, after
my friends had left me, to spend a few moments at the window before
retiring to rest, to see the sun rise over the Adriatic, and then to bid
him goodnight. If you, my dear prince, have not yet enjoyed this
pleasure, I recommend exactly this station, the only eligible one
perhaps in all Venice to enjoy so splendid a prospect in perfection.
A purple twilight hangs over the deep, and a golden mist on the Laguna
announces the sun's approach. The heavens and the sea are wrapped in
expectant silence. In two seconds the orb of day appears, casting a
flood of fiery light on the waves. It is an enchanting sight.

"One morning, when I was, according to custom, enjoying the beauty of
this prospect, I suddenly discovered that I was not the only spectator
of the scene. I fancied I heard voices in the garden, and turning to
the quarter whence the sound proceeded, I perceived a gondola steering
for the land. In a few moments I saw figures walking at a slow pace up
the avenue. They were a man and a woman, accompanied by a little negro.
The female was clothed in white, and had a brilliant on her finger. It
was not light enough to perceive more.

"My curiosity was raised. Doubtless a rendezvous of a pair of lovers--
but in such a place, and at so unusual an hour! It was scarcely three
o'clock, and everything was still veiled in dusky twilight. The
incident seemed to me novel and proper for a romance, and I waited to
see the end.

"I soon lost sight of them among the foliage of the garden, and some
time elapsed before they again emerged to view. Meanwhile a delightful
song was heard. It proceeded from the gondolier, who was in this manner
shortening the time, and was answered by a comrade a short way off.
They sang stanzas from Tasso; time and place were in unison, and the
melody sounded sweetly, in the profound silence around.

"Day in the meantime had dawned, and objects were discerned more
plainly. I sought my people, whom I found walking hand-in-hand up a
broad walk, often standing still, but always with their backs turned
towards me, and proceeding further from my residence. Their noble, easy
carriage convinced me at once that they were people of rank, and the
splendid figure of the lady made me augur as much of her beauty. They
appeared to converse but little; the lady, however, more than her
companion. In the spectacle of the rising sun, which now burst out in
all its splendor, they seemed to take not the slightest interest.

"While I was employed in adjusting my glass, in order to bring them into
view as closely as possible, they suddenly disappeared down a side path,
and some time elapsed before I regained sight of them. The sun had now
fully risen; they were approaching straight towards me, with their eyes
fixed upon where I stood. What a heavenly form did I behold! Was it
illusion, or the magic effect of the beautiful light? I thought I
beheld a supernatural being, for my eyes quailed before the angelic
brightness of her look. So much loveliness combined with so much
dignity!--so much mind, and so much blooming youth! It is in vain I
attempt to describe it. I had never seen true beauty till that moment.