Christian Gellerts Last Christmas | Page 6

cannot give him any help!
As soon as the train had passed, Christopher asked who was being
buried. It was a simple burgher, it was not Gellert; and in the deep
breath which Christopher drew lay a double signification: on the one
hand, was joy that Gellert was not dead; on the other, a still small voice
whispered to him that he had now really promised to give him the
wood: ah! but whom had he promised?--himself: and it is easy to argue
with one's own conscience.
Superstition babbles of conjuring-spells, by which, without the
co-operation of the patient, the evil spirit can be summarily ejected. It
would be convenient if one had that power, but, in truth, it is not so: it
is long ere the evil desire and the evil habit are removed from the soul
into which they have nestled; and the will, for a long while in bondage,
must co-operate, if a releasing spell from without is to set the prisoner
free.
One can only be guided, but himself must move his feet.
As Christopher now looked about him, he found that he had stopped
close by an inn; he drove his load a little aside, went into the parlor,
and drank a glass of warmed beer. There was already a goodly
company, and not far from Christopher sat a husbandman with his son,
a student here, who was telling him how there had been lately quite a
stir. Professor Gellert had been ill, and riding a well-trained horse had
been recommended for his health. Now Prince Henry of Prussia, during
the Seven Years' War, at the occupation of Leipzig, had sent him a
piebald, that had died a short time ago; and the Elector, hearing of it,

had sent Gellert from Dresden another--a chestnut--with golden bridle,
blue velvet saddle, and gold-embroidered housings. Half the city had
assembled when the groom, a man with iron-gray hair, brought the
horse; and for several days it was to be seen at the stable; but Gellert
dared not mount it, it was so young and high-spirited. The rustic now
asked his son whether the Professor did not make money enough to
procure a horse of his own, to which the son answered: "Certainly not.
His salary is but one hundred and twenty-five dollars, and his further
gains are inconsiderable. His Lectures on Morals he gives publicly, i. e.,
gratis, and he has hundreds of hearers; and, therefore, at his own
lectures, which must be paid for, he has so many the fewer. To be sure,
he has now and then presents from grand patrons; but no one gives him,
once and for all, enough to live upon, and to have all over with a single
acknowledgment."
Our friend Christopher started as he heard this; he had quite made up
his mind to take Gellert the wood: but he had yet to do it. How easy
were virtue, if will and deed were the same thing! if performance could
immediately succeed to the moment of burning enthusiasm! But one
must make way over obstacles; over those that outwardly lie in one's
path, and over those that are hidden deep in the heart; and negligence
has a thousand very cunning advocates.
How many go forth, prompted by good intentions, but let little
hindrances turn them from their way--entirely from their way of life! In
front of the house Christopher met other woodmen whom he knew,
and-- "You are stirring betimes!" "Prices are good to-day!" "But little
comes to the market now!" was the cry from all sides. Christopher
wanted to say that all that did n't concern him, but he was ashamed to
confess what his design was, and an inward voice told him he must not
lie. Without answering he joined the rest, and wended his way to the
market; and on the road he thought: "There are Peter, and Godfrey, and
John, who have seven times your means, and not one of them, I'm sure,
would think of doing anything of this kind; why will you be the
kind-hearted fool? Stay! what matters it what others do or leave undone?
Every man shall answer for himself. Yes, but go to market--it is better
it should be so; yes, certainly, much better: sell your wood--who knows?

perhaps he does n't want it--and take him the proceeds, or at least the
greater portion. But is the wood still yours? You have, properly
speaking, already given it away; it has only not been taken from your
keeping...."
There are people who cannot give; they can only let a thing be taken
either by the hand of chance, or by urgency and entreaty. Christopher
had such fast hold of possession, that it was only after sore wrestling
that he let go; and yet his heart