The answers to the philanthropic advertisement were in a proportion of
fifty to one answer to the advertisement for a companion. There were
fifty ladies without means willing to be idle, to one lady without means
willing to work. It worried Anna terribly, being obliged by want of room
and money to limit the number to twelve. She could hardly bear to read
the letters, knowing that nearly all had to be rejected. "See how many
sad lives are being dragged through while we are so comfortable," she
said to Manske, when he brought round fresh piles of letters to add to
those already heaped on her table.
He shook his head in perplexity. He was bewildered by the masses of
answers, by the apparent universality of impoverishment and hopelessness
among Christian ladies of good family.
He could not come himself more than once a day, and the letters arrived
by every post; so in the afternoon he sent Herr Klutz, the young cleric
of poetic promptings, who had celebrated Anna on her arrival in a poem
which for freshness and spontaneousness equalled, he considered, the
best sonnets that had ever been written. What a joy it was to a youth of
imagination, to a poet who thought his features not unlike Goethe's, and
who regarded it as by no means an improbability that his brain should
turn out to be stamped with the same resemblance, to walk daily through
the gleaming, whispering forest, swinging his stick and composing
snatches not unworthy of her of whom they treated, his face towards the
magic _Schloss_ and its enchanted princess, and his pockets full of her
letters! Herr Klutz's coat was clerical, but his brown felt hat and the
flower in his buttonhole were typical of the worldliness within. "A
poet," he assured himself often, "is a citizen of the world, and is not
to be narrowed down to any one circle or creed." But he did not expound
this view to the good man who was helping him to prepare for the
examination that would make him a full-fledged pastor, and received his
frequent blessings, and assisted at prayers and intercessions of which
he was the subject, with outward decorum.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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