Chapter 6 Chapter Six

Life is not easy, and I used to feel it vaguely.Now I have a new understanding.To this day, that conflicting feeling has never left me, and it has long been deeply rooted in my consciousness.My life was poor and hard, while others thought I—and sometimes I thought so—was rich and good.Life seems to me a deep, mournful night, which would be almost unendurable were it not for here and there a flash of lightning.It is indeed comforting and awe-inspiring that their bursts of light can wipe out and undo years of darkness in a matter of seconds. Darkness is the blackness of despair, the dreadful cycle of everyday life.Why do people get up every day, eat, drink, and then lie down again?Children, savages, healthy young men, and animals of all kinds suffer terribly from this tedious cycle of things and activities.No one has the thought to object to getting up, eating, and drinking every morning. On the contrary, he finds satisfaction in it and is unwilling to change.Whoever loses this life of course strives in his daily life for that momentary moment of real life, the momentary gleam which makes him happy and which erases all thought which concentrates all his consciousness and purpose. sense of time.This moment is called the creative moment because, on the surface, it brings a sense of harmony to the creator, and because people are willing to accept whatever it brings, even if it is very accidental.This is what the mystics call union with God.Maybe this moment of light is so bright that it makes everything else seem so dark, maybe this moment brings freedom, magic lightness, and joy, so that other lives feel so heavy, low, and obscure.Little did I know that I had carried this moment not far from thinking and philosophy.But I know that if there is bliss and paradise, it must be the unhindered duration of this moment; and if people can finally reach bliss through the troubles and purifications formed by pain, then no one will escape troubles and pains.

In the days after my father's burial—in a constant state of numbness and trance—I used to wander aimlessly along a path in a suburban park.A row of dainty houses there called up a vague recollection, and I traced them until I came to the little garden and the house of the old schoolteacher who had, some years before, led me to believe in theosophy.I went in, and the old gentleman came out, recognized me, and took me affectionately into his room, which was full of books and flower pots, and permeated with the light and comforting scent of tobacco. "How are you?" asked Mr. Lowe. "Oh, your father has just died! You still look sad. Are you sad?"

"No," I said. "If I had been estranged from my father, his death would have grieved me. But I have known him very intimately on my last visit, and this has relieved me of the painful guilt that is a man's love for love. Parents must have affection, because people get more love from their parents than they can repay.” "Your words really make me happy." "How is your Theosophical research going? I'd like to hear about it, because I'm in a bad place." "What's uncomfortable?" "Everything is bad. I can't live, I can't die. I feel useless, I suck."

Mr. Lowe twisted his kind and placid gardener's face in agony.I have to admit that this kind, slightly fat face irritated me, that I expected nothing from him, and never believed that his wisdom would give me any comfort.I only want to tell him that his wisdom will prove impotent, and that his sense of happiness and his optimistic faith will be punished.I'm not against him or anyone else, I just don't want to be nice. But the man was not at all a pompous man, and, as I thought, he was governed by his dogma.He looked lovingly into my face and shook his blond head sadly with genuine concern.

"You are ill, my dear sir," he said decisively. "Maybe it's just your health, and that's all right. You'll have to go to the country, and you'll have to do heavy work, and you won't eat meat. But I guess there's something else. You're depressed." "Do you think so?" "Yes, you are sick, a fashionable disease, one meets every day smart people with it. The doctors can't do anything about it. It's a kind of insanity. , one could also call it individualism or imaginary loneliness. These things are all in the current fashion books. You are indulging in your own illusions, you think you are alone, you have no one to relate to you, no People know you. Is that the case?"

"Yes, roughly," I replied in surprise. "You see. For a man who has been ill, a few disappointments are enough to convince him that there is no relationship between him and other people, at most a mutual misunderstanding, and the man becomes Absolutely alone, not really understanding other people, having nothing in common with them, and having nothing to do with them. As is often the case, the patient is increasingly arrogant, and if mutual understanding and harmony are possible between him and other healthy people Mutual admiration is only a relationship between livestock. If this kind of disease becomes common, then the human race will become extinct. Fortunately, this disease only occurs in Europe, and only occurs in higher social groups Among them. It is quite curable for young people to suffer from this disease, and it is even an unavoidable disease of young people in their developmental period."

I was a little annoyed by his slightly mocking lecture.There was no smile on his face, no expression of defending me, and then he showed a very concerned and kind look again. "I beg your pardon," he said kindly, "that's what you suffer from. I'm not kidding. But there's a cure for it. The kind that thinks there's no bridge between me and you, that everyone The idea of ​​being alone and incomprehensible is pure fantasy. On the contrary, what human beings have in common is far more and more important than what distinguishes each man from others for his own sake. Much more."

"That may be the case," I replied, "but what is the use of me knowing all this? I am not a philosopher, and my pain is not caused by my failure to find the truth. I do not want to be a saint and a thinker, I I just want to be able to live a simple, relatively satisfying and easy life.” "Well, try it! Don't read books, don't delve into theory, but you must trust the doctor until you are cured. Will you do it?" "I'd love to give it a try." "That's all right. If you are only sick, the doctor will advise you to take a bath, or to take medicine, or to go to the seaside. Perhaps you don't understand why you should do this. Will these methods help? But you should always try it first and see how it turns out. Do it now as I suggest! You have to work hard to learn to think of others before you! This is the only way to get back to health the way."

"What shall I do? Every man thinks first of his own." "You've got to make up your mind to get over it. You've got to have a certain indifference to your own comforts and pleasures. You've got to learn to think like this: It's all up to me! There's only one way for you at the moment: You've got to learn to love everybody else and put their Happiness is more important than your own. I don't mean you to fall in love! I mean just the opposite!" "I understand. But with whom should I test?" "You can find a partner from yourself, whether it is a friend or a relative. You think about your mother. She has lost her support and is lonely now. She needs someone to comfort her. Take care of her and think about her. You have to try Going to do something good for her."

"My mother and I don't know each other well, and I'm afraid it will be difficult." "Well, yes, without determination, of course it won't work! You haven't gotten through my old clichés! You can't always think he doesn't know you or you don't know him, maybe you really don't get along. But you have to let yourself first try to understand others, to make others feel happy, to make others feel in tune! You can start to do it, starting with your mother! - You must first say to yourself: life does not make me Joy, one way or another, then why can't I try to change it! Have you lost the love of your life, don't want it any more, see it as a burden, not at all pleasant! "

"I'm going to try it. You're right, I always get the same result no matter what I do. Why don't I do what you suggest?" I understood the meaning hidden in his words, and to my surprise, these words were completely consistent with the philosophy of life that my father told me when I met my father for the last time; live for others, don't take yourself too seriously!Such sermons ran counter to my sensibilities, they always smacked of catechisms and religious lessons, and I, like every healthy young man, loathed and revered them.But in the end, I did not regard them as a theory or a world view, but purely a practical experience. In order to endure a heavy life, I am willing to give it a try. I stared in amazement at this man, whom I had never taken seriously before, who was now my counselor, even my doctor.But he does seem to have the kind of love he recommends to me.He seemed to share my pain and sincerely wished me well.Undoubtedly, my senses told me that I needed a particularly intensive retreat in order to be able to live and breathe like everyone else.I would like to go to the mountains to live alone for a while, or to do a kind of heavy manual labor, but for the present I must follow my counsel, because I am exhausted and can't help it. I confessed to my mother, reminded her not to be alone, and hoped that she would care about me and participate in my life, but she just shook her head sadly. "Look what you think!" she said against me. "It's not that simple. I have my old habits, and there is no way I can start another way of life, and you need to be free. Don't make me a burden to you." "We can try it first," I suggested. "It may be easier than you think." So I did it without hesitation and confidence.We have a house, an extensive lending and debt business, piles of books and bills, loans and deposits, and the question is what to do with it all.I initially decided to sell everything, but it didn't go well, and my mother hated the old house, and because it was my father's will, she did everything possible to keep it.My father's bookkeeper and a notary helped us with our affairs, and the days and weeks passed with negotiations, letters and letters about money, countless plans and disappointments.I couldn't stand the pile of accounts and papers, and sent my notary to hire another lawyer, and let them sort out the mess. During this period my mother often came.I try to make her life easier, I help her out of everything, I read to her, I take her on walks.Sometimes I feel the burden is too heavy, and I am afraid that it will be difficult to get out, so I want to throw it all away, but I am ashamed, and I am curious about what will happen if I retreat. My mother thought of nothing but the dead, and yet her grief was certainly a little lady's grief, which was foreign to me and often seemed narrow and shallow.At first I sat where my father used to sit at mealtimes," and then she commented that it was inappropriate for me to sit there and that the seat should be vacant. Sometimes I didn't talk to her enough about my father, and she just fell silent, looked at me in pain, so I had to start talking about him again. What I lacked the most was music. I asked many times to be allowed to practice the violin for an hour a day, but it was weeks before she allowed me to do so, accompanied by Many sighs, which struck me as an offense. Unpleasantly I tried my best to bring my activities and life closer to her, and to win her friendship, but it was all in vain. Because I often encounter unhappiness, I almost want to give up, but I always force myself to get used to this kind of life without resonance.My personal life was on the verge of extinction, and occasionally in my dreams I heard Gertrude's voice as if from a distant dark place, or at some empty moment some inappropriate melody from my opera appeared in my mind.In order to deal with the residence in R, when I packed my luggage and came to R again, I felt that everything there seemed to have been unfamiliar for many years.I only visited Tessel, who genuinely cared about me.I didn't dare ask him about Gertrude. My mother's pessimistic and indifferent attitude oppressed me a lot, and I had to gradually start a legitimate and hidden struggle.When I frankly asked her to tell me what she wanted and what she didn't like about me, she just smiled miserably, stroked my hand, and said, "Never mind, boy: I'm an old woman." So I was left alone Struggling, not daring to ignore the questions posed by bookkeepers and waiters. There are all sorts of chores to attend to here, chief among them my mother.My mother is unique in the city as a relative and girlfriend, her cousin, an old lady who doesn't like to socialize with people, but maintains a relatively close relationship with my mother.This Miss Schnipper dislikes my father very much, and expresses an absolute dislike for me, so she will not be visiting my house anytime soon.My mother had promised her long ago that she would take her to live with her unless she died before my father, and it was this expectation that made her resent my staying at home.When I got to know all this, I called on the old lady, and tried to make her feel good about me.The scene was surprisingly successful, and this little ruse gave me a new, almost satisfying feeling.I managed to get the old lady to come to our house again, and I noticed how grateful my mother was for that.The two of them often discussed together how to prevent me from selling this former residence, and they really achieved their goal.My handling of the old lady also strengthened my position in the house, into the place of my father whom I had long coveted, and whom he had banned from me in the past.There was enough room for me and the old lady, but she just didn't want a master to share the building with her, so she refused to come with us.But she was a frequent visitor, and often brought little daily necessities to her girlfriend, and she was all diplomatic with me, as if she were dealing with a dangerous powerful state, and she gave me a way that I couldn't argue with her. The method is to intervene in our housework. My poor mother neither interferes with her nor takes my side.She was tired, and the vicissitudes of life made her miserable.I gradually realized that she missed her late father very much.Once I happened to walk into a room and came across her going through the wardrobe.She was startled when she saw me go in, and I left in a hurry, but I saw very clearly that she was looking at the clothes of the deceased, and her eyes were red when she walked out of the room. Come summer a new battle begins.I don't want to go on a trip with my mother, but we both need to recuperate, and I hope this trip will refresh her spirits and allow me to exert more influence on her.She didn't seem interested in traveling, but she didn't object to my opinion. Miss Schnipper was very enthusiastic about it, and tried her best to persuade my mother to stay and let me travel alone.But I would not budge in the slightest, and I had made my promise to this trip long ago.Already in this old house I had a very bad time with my poor, restless and distressed mother; I hoped that a visit out of town would do her some good, and might give me better control. own thoughts and emotions. The matter was then settled, and we set off at the end of June.On our short day trip we look out over Konstanz and Zurich as we sail across the Braunich towards the Bernese Oberland.My mother's demeanor was calm, but also tired, looking a little downcast, at the mercy of the trip.When we arrived in Interlaken she complained that she couldn't sleep, but I persuaded her to come with me to Grintel Forest, where I hoped to have a good rest.During this stupid, endless, joyless journey, it became clear to me that it was impossible to escape and relieve my pain.There are many beautiful rippling lakes here, the mirror-like lakes reflect the ancient and beautiful cities, there are many winding white and blue mountains, and the turquoise glaciers are shining in the sun.And the two of us just walked through it all in silence and unpleasantness, feeling ashamed that we should feel oppressed and weary in the face of this beauty.We walked among the mountains, looked at the high mountains, breathed the fresh, sweet air, listened to the sound of cow bells from the alpine pastures, and couldn't help shouting; "It's so beautiful!" We couldn't believe it own eyes. We spent a week in Grintle Forest.One morning my mother said, "I said, this is so boring, let's go back. I wish I could sleep together. If I get sick, I might die, and I'll die at home." I had no choice but to pack my luggage silently, thinking that she was right.We started home, walking faster than we had come, and covered the whole distance in a little while.However, my mood was not like returning to my hometown, but like going to prison, and my mother was only slightly satisfied. already. The first evening after we got home, I said to my mother: "I want to travel alone, what do you think? I want to go to R again. See, if I do you good if I stay at home, Then I'd like to stay with you. But we're both sick, and it's not pleasant at all, and we tend to infect each other. You can ask your girlfriend to stay at home, and she can comfort you better than I can." She took my hand and stroked it gently according to the old habit, nodded in agreement, and at the same time looked at me with a smile, this smile clearly said: "Okay, just go ahead!" All my good intentions and all my efforts were in vain, and she and I suffered together for several months, and became more and more estranged from each other.Although we live together, we each carry our own burdens alone, and neither of us wants to share them with the other.Since my attempts were in vain, and I had no choice but to leave, I retreated to make room for Miss Schnipper. I took action immediately, but couldn't think of any other place, so I went back to Land R.As I set off, I began to understand that I would never have a homeland.This city, where I was born and spent my childhood and where my father is buried, has nothing to do with me.I said nothing when I said good-bye to Mr. Lowe, whose prescriptions for life were not helping me. The room I rented at R site happened to be vacant.It was a symbol to me of the futility of trying to sever ties with the past and escape my fate.I lived again in the same room in the same building, in the same city, I opened the violin case again, started my work again, and I found that everything was the same as before, only Mott went to Munich, Gertrude De is already his fiancée. I held my opera score in my hand as if it were a remnant of my own past life, and I tried to find something for myself among others.When a poet wrote new lyrics for all my songs, the music gradually began to wake up and liven up in my numb mind.For quite a while, I often felt at dusk a feeling of uneasiness I had in the past, and with shame and a trance I looked at the garden of Imdo, and I wrote this poem: The scorching wind howls past every night, Heavy flapping of wet wings. The curlew waddled across the sky; All things slow down from winter, The earth has recovered fully, This is the call of spring. Can't sleep at night like this. my heart becomes young, from the depths of blue memory Raise the fervent longings of my youth, I took a closer look at my face, Startled, backed away in fright. Be still, be still, my heart! I'm so excited so that the blood also coagulates and stagnates, Leading you to the old way-- don't follow youth The old way has gone too far. These verses haunt me, reviving the music and life.The pain I have suppressed and endured for a long time was released in the rhythm and tone, and melted into an unrestrained heat flow. I put the song aside and rearranged the train of thought of the long-lost opera in my mind, from the long-lost The soul unearths again its deep-hidden, ever-flowing fountain, reaching to the pinnacle of feeling, where there is no difference between pain and victory, and all the passion and power of the soul are poured entirely into this single blazing fire. I went to Tessel's to show him the new song the very day I wrote it, and I came home at dusk through the chestnut-lined lane, full of energy for the new job.But the past few months are like a pair of eyes through the eyeholes of a mask, gazing at me with a blank expression.So my heart beat fast with longing, unwilling to understand why I should escape the pain in my heart.The image of Gertrude stood clearly in front of my eyes, extraordinarily beautiful in the dust, and I stared fearlessly into those bright eyes again, and my heart was opened again for all the pain.Ah, to let her suffer, to drive a thorn deep into the wound, I would rather go with her again into the dark ghostly life!Between the dark tops of the great chestnut-trees was a dark blue sky, studded with stars, which in the distant horizon shone carelessly of grim gold.The stars gaze unscrupulously at the trees full of buds and flowers and scars, showing them the joys and pains of life, pointing out to them the great joy of life.Mayflies greet death in droves, and each life has its own brilliance and beauty. After a moment of familiarity, I understand what beauty is, and I understand that even my life and pain are beautiful. Before autumn has passed, my opera has already been completed.During this period, I met Mr. Imdo at a concert.He greeted me happily and thought it was a bit of a surprise since he had absolutely no idea that I lived in the city.He only heard about my father's death, and I've been living in my hometown for a while now. "How is Miss Gertrude?" I asked as calmly as I could. "Oh, come and see for yourself and you'll find out. Her wedding is scheduled for the beginning of November, and you will of course be invited." "Thank you, Mr. Imdo. Do you know about Mott's situation?" "He's very well. You know, I don't quite approve of the marriage. I've been meaning to ask you about Mr. Mott for a long time. Generally speaking, since I've known him, I have nothing against him." .But I've heard something about him: he's had trouble with a lot of women. Can you talk to me about that?" 'No, Mr. Imdo.He certainly didn't want these things to happen.Moreover, these rumors may hardly change Gertrude's determination.Mr. Mott is my friend, and if he can be happy, I am really happy for him. " "Oh, yes, yes. You'll be coming to our house soon?" "I think so. Goodbye, Mr. Imdo." This was not so long ago. In order to prevent the combination of the two of them, I tried almost all methods, not because of jealousy, nor because of illusions, hoping that Getrude would continue to like me, but because I deeply I believe it, and I have already foreseen that they will not be in love and harmony for a long time, because I think of Mott's self-torturing depression, his violent character and Gertrude's gentleness, and because Marion and Green Dee's situation is still intact in my memory. Today I think very differently.The turmoil of my whole life, half a year of inner solitude, and a conscious farewell to my youth have changed me considerably.My present opinion is that it is foolish and dangerous for one man to reach out for the fate of another; and I certainly have no reason for myself to reach out to aid another if I allow myself to be.A helpful and understanding man, especially when I have been so ashamed of myself that I have failed in all attempts in this direction, I still strongly doubt man's ability, his life, and how he consciously forms himself. and cast anyone else.One may earn money, one may strive for honors and medals, but one cannot strive for happiness or misfortune, neither for oneself nor for others.One can only accept what has come, and of course the methods of acceptance can be quite different.As for my own development, I do not want to make any more coercive attempts to force my life to turn on the bright side, but to accept a certain part that applies to me, take it according to my ability, and turn to the good side. It is from this contemplation that life becomes independent and beyond it, thus leaving what is commonly called resolution and thought, a peace of mind which helps to bear unalterable reality.At least I accepted it, as I would like to see afterward, since my obedience to Providence, since my private life has been resigned, has been in a softer condition. All the things that people have worked so hard to achieve that they can't achieve, but often come unexpectedly, this is an experience I just heard from my mother.I write to her every month and have not heard from her for many days.Maybe she is not in good health, in this case, based on past experience, there is no need to worry too much.I continued to write my letters, giving her a short account of my life, and each time I added a kind greeting to Miss Schnipper. This greeting has recently ceased to be expressed.The two old ladies feel that their life is too easy, and they can no longer bear the wish to get it.Miss Schnipper in particular was almost at the height of her good life.As soon as I left, she immediately moved into her place of victory with a gesture of victory, and moved her living room to our building.Hereafter she lived at last with her old friend and cousin, and felt that she was well deserved after a long and hard time, and should be allowed to handle solemn household affairs with gentleness like a hostess. And magnificent.It wasn't that she had grown accustomed to the high life and was content with it—indeed she had lived in difficult conditions and semi-poverty for a long time.She never wore finer clothes, nor slept in a finer bed; rather, she is only now beginning to live this life, and at the same time really beginning to save, for there is economy to be had, and there is some waste. Phenomenon.Furthermore, she is unwilling to give up any power and influence.The two maids had to obey her more than my mother, and so did the other servants, craftsmen, and even the postman.Her zeal did not tend to die out in contentment, but gradually extended her dominion over other things, over things my mother was less inclined to obey.She was involved in all my mother's meetings with visiting guests, and would be upset if she wasn't there once.All letters, especially my letters, she did not want to hear only a brief introduction, but had to read them herself.In the end she also found that in my mother's house, some things were not handled, cared for, and managed in the right way at all as she thought.First of all, she felt that the supervision of the servants was too loose, so that one evening one of the maids ran outside the house and chatted with another maid and the postman until very late.In addition, the cook asked for Sundays off, so she began to criticize my mother's soft and easy manner very severely, and gave her instructions at length on how to properly manage the house.Besides, it pained her to see the laws of thrift so frequently and severely violated.For example, repeatedly transporting coal to the house, so many eggs were stolen by the female chef, and so on.She objected to this and that, earnestly and passionately, and thus began the feud between the two girlfriends. As mentioned above, my mother has been quite satisfied up to this point, even if she doesn't agree with everything.Later, something her girlfriend does disappoints her, and she always looks for the best when it comes to their relationship.But now it is no longer possible. The old and respected family habits in the past are already in crisis, and the peace and comfort of the family's daily life are beginning to be damaged. She cannot accept her various accusations and expresses resistance. Her girlfriend is in tune.And so there were arguments and little friendly corners.It wasn't until the female chef announced to the male servant that she would quit her job for a thousand dollars, and my mother finally kept her after exhausting her words, making many promises, and almost apologizing, that the power issue in our family began to be really in a state of contention. . Miss Schnipper, who had always been proud of her knowledge, experience, frugality, and financial talents, failed to see the ungratefulness of others for the contribution of all these talents to her.She also felt quite confident that there was good reason to criticize the management of the economy hitherto, she blamed my mother's housekeeping skills in many ways, and she unabashedly pitied the habits and characteristics of the men, women, etc. of the family.However, the mistress of the family has always been under the instruction of the master and managed the housework according to his requirements. She has been doing this for many years, and her life is very smooth.My father didn't like Xiaoli's stingy and excessive thrift. He was always tolerant and indulgent towards his servants.My mother must have criticized him occasionally in the past, even though she still ran the house according to his instructions, but since my father passed away, my father has become sacrosanct.But Miss Schnipper could not be silent about this. She seriously recalled that she had long had an opinion on the deceased, and had already expressed her objection. She thought that the time was finally ripe to correct the lazy style, A time for sanity.Out of love for her girlfriend, she was unwilling to touch her girlfriend's yearning for the deceased; but these things were directly related to the deceased, so she had to let her girlfriend admit that the late old man really had a deep love for the deceased at home. Responsible for many ills, she could not understand why laissez-faire conditions were still allowed to continue. It was tantamount to a slap in the face to my mother, and she would never forget the blow this cousin gave her.In the past, she often talked with this confidant, which became her necessity and enjoyment. She complained to her and narrated all kinds of mistakes of her husband.And now she couldn't bear to smear even the slightest shadow on his radiant image, and she saw the revolution that was beginning in the house not only as a disturbance, but as a kind of reverence for the holy dead man. criminal behavior of the offender. It just happened and I didn't know anything about it.Now was the first time my mother wrote to me about these cage feuds, though she concealed them as carefully as possible so as not to provoke me to ridicule.I refrained from greeting the old lady in my next reply, though I never suggested or considered that the two women might get on better without my presence.What's more, other things happened during this time, which kept me very busy. October has come, and the impending wedding of Gertrude is always on my mind.I never went to her house again, nor did I see her in person again.If she leaves her home after marriage, I intend to resume my association with her father.I also hope that over time a friendly relationship of trust will be re-established between me and her; we have been so close in the past that it is difficult to write the past away.It's just that I don't have the courage to meet her yet, according to what I know about her, for such a meeting.She will not escape. One day someone knocked on my door in a way I was familiar with.我怀着一种不祥的预感和迷乱的心情跳起来打开房门，门口站着海因利希?莫特，他朝我伸出手来。 “莫特！”我叫了起来，紧紧握住了他的手。我不能盯着他的眼睛看，其实我还完全没有想起发生的一切，还没有感到痛苦。我脑海中又浮现出他桌上的那只出自盖特露德之手的信封，又浮现出和她告别的景象以及自己如何选择了自杀。而现在他站在我面前，试探地审视着我。他看上去略为消瘦，却仍然和从前一样英俊和傲慢。 “我没料到是你，”我轻声说。 “是吗？因为你已经不再去盖特露德家，我早就知道的。看在我的份上，让我们别再谈这些事了！我是专为看望你而来的，你生活得怎么样，正在进行什么工作。你的歌剧进展如何？” “一切都好。你首先得告诉我，盖特露德好么？” “很好。我们很快就要结婚了。” "I know." “嗯，你不打算就去看望她一次么？” “以后再说吧。我只想知道她和你在一起是否会过得好。” "Ok……" “海因利希，请原谅我，可是我不得不常常想到绿蒂。你待她很坏，还揍过她。” “别提绿蒂啦！她是自作自受。没有人愿意接女人的。” “那么好吧。我们谈谈歌剧。我现在还完全不知道应该把它送到哪里去。一定得找一个好剧院，可是人家肯不肯接受这个作品呢？” “人家会接受的。我乐意和你谈谈这件事。你把歌剧送到慕尼黑去吧！他们肯定会高兴的，那里的人对你很感兴趣，万不得已时，我来承担角色。我很高兴能够在其他人之先演唱男主人公。” 他的建议对我很有帮助。我欣然赞同；，并且答应立即抄一份副本给他。我们讨论了具体细节，又谈到今后出版事宜，好似这是刻不容缓的要事，当然我们都不愿意浪费时间，对于我们之间的鸿沟，大家都闭着眼睛装做看不见。莫特首先打破这一禁界。 “喂，”他说道，“你还记得当初带我去依姆多家的情景吗？已经是一年前的事了。” “当然记得，”我回答说，“你不必想到我，你呀，还是走开吧！” “不，我的朋友。这么说你是记得的，嗯，要是你当时已爱上这位姑娘了，为什么不告诉我一声呢？你为什么不对我说：不要碰她，让她和你在一起！只要给我一点暗示就够了，我就会理解的。” “我不能这么做。” “不能？为什么不能？有谁监视你、封住你的口，以致事到如今难以挽回？” “我不知道她是否爱我。而且，而且你也已爱上了她，我还能有什么办法。” “你真是个孩子！她和你在一起大概会更幸福的。当然每个人都有权利去征服一个女人。可是当初只要你对我说一个字，或者只是给我一个小小的暗示，我就会走开的。后来当然就太晚了。” 他这番话使我很痛苦。 “我和你的想法不一样，”我说，“这下子你满意了吧？请让我一个人清静清静！请代我问她好，我会来慕尼黑看你们的。” “你不参加我们的婚礼么？” “不了，莫特，这没有意思。那么你们将在教堂举行婚礼罗？” “当然，在大教堂。” “我也喜欢你们在大教堂举行婚礼。那么我还有机会给你们写点什么，一首风琴序曲。不要担心，我写得尽量短些。” “你真是个可爱的家伙！见鬼去吧，我可不想倒霉！” “我觉得你很有运气，莫特。” “好啦，我们不要争论吧。我必须走了，我还得去采购点东西，天晓得还有什么事。你很快就会把歌剧乐谱给我寄来吧？是不是？你一寄到，我就拿给我们的头儿去看。嗯，在我结婚前我们两人总还应该再聚一聚的。也许就在明天？——好了，再见吧！” 于是我又陷入从前有过的危机之中，躺在床上思绪万千不能入眠，痛苦极了。第二天我来到一个熟识的风琴师家中，请他应允在莫特的婚礼上演奏我的风琴序曲。下午我和台塞尔一起把歌剧序曲作了最后一次审阅。晚上我来到海因利希?莫特下榻的旅馆。 房间里炉火熊熊、烛光明亮，一切都已准备妥当，一张铺着白桌布的桌子上放着鲜花和银器，莫特早已在等候我到来。 “好啊，年轻人，”他朝我叫道，“让我们庆祝离别，为你，更为了我。盖特露德要我代问你好。我们今天要为她的健康干一杯。” 我们倒满酒杯，沉默地干了一杯。 “怎么样，我们现在只管我们自己的事。青春易逝，亲爱的，你不是也感到了吗？青春是人生最美好的时刻。我希望，它也象一切可爱的格言一样，是一场幻梦。当然最美好的事情应该首先到来，否则我们就不屑于为以后的全部事情付出精力了。等你的歌剧上演时，我们再继续谈这个问题。” 我们舒适地吃着，喝干了一瓶烈性葡萄酒，然后又向后一靠，埋在沙发椅上抽雪茄烟和喝香摈酒。我想起了我和他从前在一起度过的那些日子，我们兴高采烈地畅谈着未来的计划，随便闲聊着，互相无忧无虑地、沉思地直视着对方的眼睛。海因利希在这种时刻里总比他在任何其他时刻都更为温和和善良，他确实知道这样的欢乐时刻短暂易逝，为了使生动活泼的情趣维持长久，就要小心谨慎地把它牢牢地把握在爱护的手掌中。莫特含着笑容轻声谈论着慕尼黑，讲述着剧院里的一些小轶事，以简洁明了的话语描绘出他对古老优美的艺术、对人及其之间关系的种种看法。 他滔滔不绝地议论着他的乐队指挥、他的岳父以及其他许多人，虽然并无恶意，却带有嘲讽和尖刻的口吻，我举杯向他祝酒并间道：“嗯，那么你对我有何看法呢？你对别人也是用这种方式谈论我的吧。” “哦，是的，”他泰然自若地点点头，那双黑眼睛直勾勾地凝视着我。“总而言之，你是艺术家的典型。一个艺术家在市侩们眼中不是一个快活的人，他随时抛出艺术作品纯粹是出于忘乎所以，可惜他们大都是些贫苦的可怜虫，他们在一堆无用的财富上挣扎，并且必须为此而贡献出自己。世上并没有幸福的艺术家之说，这些话纯属市侩们的胡说八道。兴高采烈的莫扎特用香槟酒使自己保持直立状态，因而短缺购买面包的钱款，贝多芬为什么不在年富力强时就捐弃生命，相反地却写出了那么多壮丽的作品，这一点谁也说不清楚。一个正派的艺术家往往一辈子都是不幸的。当他饥饿不堪打开自己的口袋时，里面总是只有晶莹的珍珠！” “是的，每当人们渴望有一点点喜悦和温暖，并且享受生活的时候，那么有一打歌剧和三重奏以及其他诸如此类的东西来安慰这个人当然也不算多。” “这我相信。和一个朋友——倘若他有这样一个朋友的话——一边喝酒消磨时光，一边舒适地闲聊着这种特别的生活，这当然是人生最美妙的事。事实就是这样，我们应当高兴，因为我们正过着这种生活。这种美妙的飞箭似的时代，一个可怜的人能享受多久呢，欢乐瞬息即逝！所以我们必须珍惜欢乐，珍惜灵魂的宁静和美好的心情，以便不断丰富我们的美妙时光。朋友，干一杯！” 我完全不同意他的人生哲学，然而我也不知道为什么。我觉得和这样一位朋友共度夜晚很愉快，我生怕失去这位朋友，而他对我早已是不可靠的了，我沉思地回顾过去的年代，一切似乎都近在眼前，却包含了我全部青春年华，这种年代的轻浮和无忧无虑已经一去不复返了。 我们及时结束了闲谈，莫特还要求陪同我一起去我的住所。然而我请他留步休息了。我知道他不喜欢和我一起走在街上，我慢腾腾的破行会妨碍他，使他不耐烦。他是不愿意作出牺牲的，即使这样一种小小的牺牲也常常很难做到。 我很喜欢自己的小风琴曲。这是一首前奏曲，表达了我和自己过去告别的心情，也是对这一对新人的感谢和祝福，同时也是我和她以及他的美好的友谊时光的回声。 举行婚礼那天，我早早赶到了教堂，躲藏在大风琴后观看婚礼。当风琴师演奏我的作品时，盖特露德抬起眼睛看着新郎，向他点点头。我已经很长时间没有看见她了，她穿着白礼服显得比从前更高、更苗条了。她文雅庄重地从装饰得漂漂亮亮的狭窄小道上走向祭坛，她那位丈夫姿态高傲，腰板笔挺地大步走在她身边。倘若在这个位置上的是我，迈着歪斜的吸步走这条典礼之路，肯定就没有这么隆重庄严了。