Strange it is how a poet's words will suddenly come to one's aid.
"My son is like a different man,'" said I, with the words taken from the history of my friend; and I was myself astonished by the tone in which I spoke. I had enough self-command to say that our present troubles required that all should be united, and, that we should, therefore, not complicate them by introducing our own personal interests; nor did I conceal the fact that I had lived down my sorrow on account of Ernst, and had almost ceased to be haunted by the thought of him. It pained me, nevertheless, to listen to the well-rounded, sentences in which the Prince praised the Roman virtue that indulged my love of country at the expense of my feelings as a father. He seemed pleased with this conceit of his, and repeated it frequently. I felt quite disenchanted.
Thoughts of Ernst almost made me forget where I was, or what I was saying, until the Prince requested me to resume my story, unless I found it too fatiguing.
I continued:
"When I think of the times before 1830, I see opposed to each other extravagant enthusiasm and impotence, courageous virtue and cowardly vice, chaste and devoted faith in the ideal, and mockery, ridicule, and frivolous disbelief in all that was noble--the one side cherishing righteousness, the other scoffing at it. In other words, on the one side, Uhland; on the other, Metternich.
"My relations with my family, with the community in which I lived, and even in a wider circle, were happy enough. But the thought of my distracted Fatherland remained, and filled my heart with grief that could not be assuaged. I lived and suffered for the general good, and my associates did the like; but the storm-cloud was always impending over us, and we were obliged to learn how to go about our daily work with fresh and cheerful hearts, although danger threatened; to be patient for the sake of the people, and to look into our own hearts for strength.
"The best men of our Fatherland were deeply anxious to be up and doing, but we were condemned to the worst lot of all: a life-long opposition.
"While we were languishing for healthy political action, our minds were filled with a bitter and consuming protest against the miserable condition of our affairs.
"It is hard when one's whole being is in conflict with his surroundings."
I went on to tell him of the great hopes that the spring of 1848 had inspired us with, and that I, too, had had the good fortune to be permitted to assist in building up the great Fatherland, and to have been in the confidence of the best men of my time. I told him of the sad days when our so-called "Rump Parliament" was dispersed by the soldiers, and also spoke of my son Ludwig.