German fiction -- Translations into English; Leipzig (Germany) -- Fiction
The old gentleman smiled and replied: "Inhale it in peace, my Ernst, for
I will confide to you that I have poured the elixir into the Tiber, on
whose banks the battle for the Truth has been so often joined, and where
so many factions have imagined that they possessed the elixir of Truth.
I have filled the phial with water and a drop of aromatic myrrh. The
water I took from the fountain of Trevi, which, you know, is supposed to
possess the power of inspiring longing--only for the Eternal City, I
believe--but perhaps in our phial it may awaken a desire for the Eternal
Truth. Let us leave the little bottle to our successors. It will not
hurt them to use it while they are young, and they can commit to memory,
at the same time, the maxim which is attached to it. Then if the
harmless liquid which it contains, together with the adage and the
example of their parents, arouse a craving for truth within them we shall
have cared better for them than Doctor Melchior did for our ancestors."
"I think so, too," I answered gratefully. "But," I added, "when you
poured the elixir into the river did you not sacrifice a valuable aid to
yourself in remaining loyal to the Truth in your creations?"
"The old gentleman shook his head. Let the essence flow away!" he
answered. "The verity of the Ueberhells, that is what each one thought
to be true, was a thing of naught, and, if you consider it closely, a
dangerous thing. Only the mind which is capable of comprehending the
laws of Nature can escape the danger of mistaking the fortuitous, and
ever changing reality, for the eternal and unchangeable truth. Therefore
I do not regret what I have done. If one of my grandsons should wish to
become a painter I have obviated the risk of his falling into the error
of believing that he has succeeded when he has only slavishly imitated
all the imperfections in the objects he sees around him. Nature
reflected in a mirror, would he what his pictures under the influence of
our elixir, would have been like, and for a true work of art, in the
highest acceptation of the term, something further is needed."
These words of my father removed my last regret for the loss of the
elixir, and my sons and grandsons who are now grown men have, with God's
help, brought it to pass that the burghers of Leipsic are willing once
again to associate with the Ueberhells.
I have only one thing more to say before I close this story.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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