The Lost Manuscript: A Novel

by Gustav Freytag

After that the churn stood peacefully under the silk cloth; the Prince in his lonely hours, would sometimes stand before it, and revolve in his mind how he could deliver it into the hands of the person for whom he had secretly intended it.

The stars themselves appeared to favor him; for the revolving earth had rolled into the last sign of the zodiac, which guides the souls of our people with magic power to the most charming festival of the year. Christmas was near, and the ladies of the street near the Park moved about in secret activity. Intercourse with intimate acquaintances was interrupted, books that had been begun were laid aside, theatres and concert-rooms were empty; the tones of the piano-forte and of new bravuras rarely sounded to the rattling of carriage-wheels in the street; inward struggles were hushed, and bad neighbors little thought of. From morning to evening, little fingers were occupied with beads, wools, silk, paint-brush and palette; the day lengthened into eight-and-forty hours; even during the minutes of unquiet morning slumber, obliging crickets and other invisible spirits worked in the pay of the ladies. The nearer the festival approached, the more numerous were the secrets: in every closet were concealed things which no one was to see; from all sides, packages were brought into the house, that were forbidden to be touched. But whilst the other inmates of the house secretly slipped past one another, the lady of the house was the quiet ruler in the invisible realm of presents, and the confidant and clever adviser of all. She was never weary; she thought and arranged for every one; the world had become to her like a great cupboard with numerous compartments, from which she was incessantly fetching things, and in which she was always cautiously stowing covered packages. When on Christmas Eve the spangled stars shine, the wax-lights drip, and the golden balls glimmer and glisten on the Christmas tree, it is then that the fancies of the children celebrate their great day; but the poetic vision of the housewife and her daughters, for months before, have filled the room with joyful splendor.

If one may regard the judgment of Mr. Hummel as valid, it is rarely that the enthusiasm of Christmas week is fully developed in the men who have the honor of being the representatives of the family. "Believe me, Gabriel," said Mr. Hummel, one December evening, as he was watching some children who were passing by with toys, "at this time man loses his importance; he is nothing but a money-chest, in which the key is turning from morning till evening; the best wives become barefaced and foolish, all family confidence vanishes, everybody avoids everybody else, the order of the house is disturbed, one's night's rest is unscrupulously destroyed; when it is meal time, one's wife runs to the market, and when the lamps ought to be extinguished, one's daughter begins a new piece of embroidery. When at last the long bother is over, then one must be delighted at a pair of new slippers which are an inch too short, and for which later on one has to pay a long shoemaker's bill, and to be pleased with a cigar case of beads, which is flat and hard, like a dried flounder. Finally, after one has shot out golden sparks like a rocket, the ladies expect one to show one's good feeling by making them a present. Now, I have trained mine differently."

"But I have seen you yourself," rejoined Gabriel, "With a package and bandbox under your arm."

"That is true," replied Mr. Hummel, "a bandbox is inevitable. But, Gabriel, I have given up all worry, for that was the most humiliating part of the affair. I go every year to the same milliner now, and say, 'a hood for Madame Hummel;' and the person says, 'You shall be served, Mr. Hummel;' and she places the structure ready made before me. Besides this, I go every year to the same shop and say, 'I want a dress for my daughter Laura, at such and such a price, more or less,' and a dress well worth its value is placed before me. In confidence I must tell you I have a suspicion that the women have seen through my trick, and select the things themselves beforehand, for now they are always very much to their taste, whilst in former years they were often objected to. They have the trouble now of selecting the finery, and in the evening they practice all sorts of dissembling artifices, unfold and examine the goods, pretend to be astonished, and praise my excellent taste. This is my only satisfaction in the whole childish amusement. But it is a poor one, Gabriel."

Such was the discordant strain in which the master of the house indulged; but the dwellers in Park Street cared little for it, and like opinions will always be regarded with like indifference. So much sweeter is it to care for others than for one's self, and so much happier to give pleasure than to receive it.

For Ilse also the festival this year was to be a great event; she collected like a bee, and not only for the dear ones at home; in the city also she had nestled many great and little children in her heart, from the five young Raschke's down to the little barefooted creatures with the soup-pot. The sofa-corners assumed a mysterious appearance whenever her husband, or Laura, or the Doctor entered unexpectedly.

When the Chamberlain, some time before the holidays, deemed it becoming for his Prince to pay a visit to the new Rector, the gentlemen found Ilse and Laura busily at work, and the parlor of the Rector's wife was changed into a great market stall. On a long table stood little Christmas trees, and full sacks were leaning against the legs of the table; the ladies were working with yard-measures and scissors, dividing great hanks of wool, and unrolling pieces of linen, like shop-keepers. When Ilse met the gentlemen and made excuses for the state of her room, the Chamberlain entreated her not to disturb herself. "We will remain here only if we are allowed to make ourselves useful." The Prince also said, "I beg permission to help, if you have anything for me to do."

"That is very kind," replied Ilse, "there is still much to be done before evening. Permit me, your Highness, to give you your work. Pray take the bag of nuts; and you, my Lord Chamberlain, have the goodness to take the apples in charge; you, Felix, will have the gingerbread. I beg the gentlemen to make little heaps, to each twenty nuts, six apples, and a package of gingerbread."

The gentlemen went zealously to work. The Prince counted the nuts conscientiously, and was provoked that they would always roll together again, but discovered that he could keep the portions apart by means of strips of paper folded together. The gentlemen laughed, and related how once, in a foreign country, they had introduced this German Christmas amusement. The perfume of the apples and of the fir-trees filled the room, and gave a festive feeling to the souls of all present.