[29] Eduard’s dialogue with d’Alembert after the latter’s passionate outburst before his escape at the front door — Zuischengesprāch Eduards mit d’ Alembert nach dessen leidenschaflichem Ausbruch vor seiner Flucht an der Haustiür — Heissenbuttel

Eduard’s dialogue with d’Alembert after the latter’s passionate outburst before his escape at the front door

Eduard, who was all the less able to deny his nature and his intellect when he found himself distracted from the stillness of the night and the movement of their conversations by the painful outburst of d’Alembert’s passion, expressed his disapproval. D’Alembert, he said, ought to man up, ought to consider what he owed to his multiple activities. Is it worth it? asked Eduard: d’Alembert should not forget that it is a man’s highest honour to take hold of himself in misfortune, to bear the pain with equanimity and decency in order to continue to be appreciated and set up as a model. Pattern! cried d’Alembert: me!

D’Alembert, agitated and imbued with the most embarrassing feelings, must have thought Edward’s words hollow and meaningless. The happy, the comfortable man speaks well, he went on: but he would be ashamed if he realised how unbearable he was becoming to the sufferer. There is supposed to be infinite patience — infinite pain is not recognised by the comfortable man. There are cases, yes, there are! where every consolation is base and despair is pious. Yet he who knows how to portray heroes does not disdain to let them weep when they are in pain. I wish the lucky ones well, for whom the unfortunate should only serve as a spectacle. In the cruelest situation of physical and mental distress, he should still behave nobly in order to receive their applause, and, so that they may still applaud him on his passing, perish like a gladiator with honour before their eyes. Dear Eduard, I thank you for coming and speaking to me; but you would show me great love if you would look round the garden or go over to my wife.

D’Alembert, agitated, and imbued with the most embarrassing feelings, must have thought his own words hollow and meaningless.

But Eduard would rather give in than break off the conversation at this point, which he could not easily resume. However, he asked himself what else could be done here, although he could not have guessed what would happen, even though he seemed to have felt a hint of this later on. In any case, it was natural for D’Alembert to continue the conversation, which was already heading towards its goal.

Of course, he said, thinking back and forth, talking back and forth, does not help; but it is only by talking that I have realised myself, that I have felt decidedly what I should decide to do, what I have decided to do. I see my present life, my future life before me; I have only to choose between misery and pleasure. Go to the tortoise. Go there, dear man, reassure us all, make us happy!

Eduard faltered. Oh, he cried, what patience I must have with my friends! We play with predictions and dreams and thus make everyday life meaningful. But when life itself becomes important, when everything around us moves and roars, then the storm is only made more frightening by those ghosts.

The happy, the cosy one speaks well, said d’Alembert: but he would be ashamed if he saw how unbearable he becomes to the sufferer. There should be infinite patience, but the comfortable man does not want to recognise infinite pain. There are cases, yes, there are! where all consolation is base and despair is a duty. But he who knows how to portray heroes does not disdain to let them weep when they are in pain. I pity the happy, for whom the unfortunate should only serve as a spectacle. In the most cruel situation of physical and mental distress, he should still behave nobly in order to receive their applause, and, so that they may still applaud him on his death, perish like a gladiator with honour before their eyes.

Eduard would rather give in than break off the conversation at this point, which he could not easily resume. However, he asked himself what else could be done here, although he could not have guessed what would happen, even though he seemed to have felt a trace of it later on.

In this uncertainty of life, cried d’Alembert, between this hope and anxiety, leave the needy heart only a kind of guiding star to which it can look, even if it cannot steer by it.

Eduard, who could all the less deny his nature and his intellect when he found himself far removed from the stillness of the night and the movement of their conversation by the painful outburst of d’Alembert’s passion, sincerely expressed his disapproval. D’Alembert, it was said, ought to man up, ought to consider what he owed to his various activities. Is it worth it? asked Eduard: d’Alembert should not forget that it is the highest honour for a man to take hold of himself in misfortune, to bear the pain with equanimity and decency in order to continue to be appreciated and set up as a model. Pattern! cried d’Alembert: I!

I would put up with it, Eduard replied, if only there were some hope of consistency, but I have always found that no one pays attention to the warning symptoms, only the promising ones attract attention, and faith in them alone is alive.

As he saw himself led into the dark regions, in which he felt increasingly uncomfortable the longer he lingered, what did he want to oppose d’Alembert at this moment? To gain time to find out who was who, whose opinion was who in truth, what was whose endeavour, where was whose ambition aiming? What do you intend to do, he asked d’Alembert, who was standing with his face bent down at the foot of the dark staircase, distanced from the glare of the streetlights as if in a secluded area, before he began to leave the house.

To sacrifice myself before I am sacrificed, he replied, raising his head. : :