are right'--that is
a real mark of grace and should make one happy for a whole day and
perhaps even longer. Isn't it so?"

"Father--didn't you mean to tell me more about your life with Gunther?"

"Ah, my child, that was a wondrous time. As far as I was able, I dived,
with him, into the study of philosophy. I can still remember, as if it
were this very moment, the very hour and the very place by the fortress
wall--it was a dull evening in autumn; I can still see the leaves as
they fell from the trees--when Gunther for the first time, explained to
me the great saying of the all-wise one: 'Self-preservation is the
first law of nature.' I stood as if rooted to the spot; it dawned upon
me like a revelation, and has never since left me. Although at times
obscured by the events of life, 'preserve thyself,' has always been
before my mind. I have faithfully lived up to the great precept, and
alas, as I now see, too completely and selfishly. The man who lives
only for himself does not live a complete life, but I can confess this
to you, of all others, without fear. It was only later that I came
thoroughly to know the great right of sovereignty that belongs to every
human being. I had done much thinking before that, but never in logical
connection. You cannot imagine what courage it requires, on the part of
a favorite and respected officer, to venture on the study of
philosophy; how opposed it is to the very idea of military service, how
improper it seems to one's superiors, and how ridiculous to one's
comrades. Military service so exhausts the body, by daily, and for the
greater part, useless exercises, that it renders it difficult to
cultivate one's mind. I often excused myself, as unwell, and remained
in my room during the loveliest weather, simply on account of my
studies. Our regiment was ordered to the capital, and Gunther accepted
my offer of a discharge. He became a professor and I attended lectures.
But I was painfully conscious of my deficiency in knowledge and
ardently longed for a chance to devote my life to perfecting my
education. An unforeseen event helped to bring about the desired end. I
had become gentleman of the bedchamber and spent much of my time at
court. At that early day, I observed the ineradicable, servile spirit
that dwells in man. Every one rejoices that there are others lower down
in the scale than himself, and is willing, on that account, to suffer
some to stand above him. Princes are not to blame