He was an experimental physicist, said Weber. Working on electrical forces. They tried to keep themselves hidden, but he wasn't giving them a chance.
That's the way he'd done it too, said Gauss, without taking his eyes off the pretty wife. With numbers. A long time ago.
He knew that, said Weber. He'd studied the Duquuitiones more closely than the Bible. Which admittedly he had never studied that closely at all.
The woman had delicate, very highly arched eyebrows. Her dress left her shoulders bare. Gauss wondered what it would be like to press his lips to those shoulders.
He dreamed, he heard Doctor Weber from Halle talking on, that a mind such as the professor's, in other words not a specialized mathematical mind but a universal one, one that solved problems wherever they presented themselves, would dedicate itself to an experimental exploration of the world. He had so many questions. It was his greatest wish to pose them to Professor Gauss.
He didn't have much time, said Gauss.
That might be, said Weber. But in all modesty, it was essential and he wasn't just nobody.
Gauss looked at him for the first time. A young man with a narrow face and pale eyes stood there in front of him.
He had to say it, explained Weber, smiling, for the sake of the project. He had studied the wave movements of electrical fields. His writings were widely read.
Gauss asked how old he was.
Twenty-four. Weber blushed.
You have a beautiful wife, said Gauss.
Weber said thank you. His wife bobbed a curtsey but didn't look embarrassed.
Your parents are proud of you?
He thought so, said Weber.
He was to come visit him next afternoon, said Gauss. He could have an hour, but then he'd have to take himself off.
That would do, said Weber.
Gauss nodded and went to the door. Humboldt called out that he must stay, the king was expected, but he couldn't do it any more, he was dead tired. The commander of gendarmerie with the big mustache stepped into his path, each of them went right and then left and then right again to try to get past the other, and it took several awkward moments before they succeeded. A warty man stood by the cloakroom surrounded by students, cursing in broad Swabian: natural scientist, know-it-all, no perspective, no grasp of dialectic, mindless, the stars too were mere matter! Gauss ran out onto the street.
He had pains in his stomach. Was it true that there were vehicles in big cities that one could simply stop and they would take one home? But there were none visible. It stank. At home he'd have been in bed long ago, and although he didn't like seeing Minna, didn't want to hear her voice, and nothing made him more nervous than her presence, he missed her out of pure habit. He rubbed his eyes. How had he grown so old? One didn't feel right any more, one didn't see right any more, and one thought at a snail's pace. Aging wasn't a tragedy. It was a farce.
He concentrated until he recalled every detail of the route Humboldt's coach had taken from Packhof number 4 to the Choral Hall. He didn't get every curve in the right order, but the direction seemed clear: obliquely to the left, northeast in fact. At home he would have settled it with one look upward, but in this sewer there were no stars to be seen. The light-extinguishing ether. If one lived here, that was the sort of idiocy that would occur to one!
At every step he glanced around. He was afraid of robbers, of dogs and filthy puddles. He worried that the city was so large that he would never find his way out again, that it was a labyrinth that would hold him fast and never let him go home. But no, one mustn't let mere nothings escalate! A city, a city was just houses, and in a hundred years the smallest of them would be bigger than these, and in three hundred years— he frowned, it was no simple task to calculate an exponential growth curve when one was nervous and unhappy and had stomach cramps, so in three hundred years there would be more people living in most towns than lived today in all the states of Germany combined. People like insects, housed in honeycombs, doing lowly jobs, siring children and dying. Of course the corpses would have to be burned, there would be no cemeteries large enough to cope. And all the excrement? He sneezed and wondered if he was now getting really ill.
When his host came home two hours later, he found Gauss in the big armchair, smoking a pipe, his feet up on a little Mexican stone table.
Where had he vanished to so abruptly, cried Humboldt, people had been looking for him, they had feared the worst, and there had been a magnificent buffet! The king had been disappointed.
He was sorry about the buffet, said Gauss.
It was no way to behave. Many people had journeyed here strictly on his account. One just couldn't do things like that!
He liked that Weber, said Gauss. But light-extinguishing ether? Absolute rubbish.
Humboldt crossed his arms.
Occam's razor, said Gauss. The number of hypotheses required to arrive at an explanation should be as small as possible. Moreover space was certainly empty, but it was curved. The stars were wandering through a very eerie vault.
That again, said Humboldt. Astral geometry. He had to say he was astonished that a man like Gauss would champion such a line of thought.
Not what he was doing, said Gauss. He had decided early on never to publish anything on the subject. He had had no desire to lay himself open to mockery. Too many people held their own assumptions to be the fundamental laws of the universe. He blew two little clouds of smoke up toward the ceiling. What an evening! He almost had got lost on the way home and in order to be let in by the lazy staff, he'd had to wake the whole household. There couldn't be filthier streets anywhere.
Being possibly more traveled, he could correct that, said Humboldt sharply. And he assured him there were filthier ones. And it was a major mistake just to walk off when so many people had come together who could help set projects in motion.
Projects, snorted Gauss. Plans, intrigues. A whole palaver with ten princes and a hundred members of the Academy before you were even allowed to put up a barometer somewhere. It wasn't science.
Oh, cried Humboldt, so what was science, then?
Gauss pulled on his pipe. A man alone at his desk. A sheet of paper in front of him, at most a telescope as well, and a clear sky outside the window. If such a man didn't give up before he reached an understanding, that, perhaps, was science.
And if this man went on journeys?
Gauss gave a slight shrug. Whatever was hiding way out there in holes or volcanoes or mines was accidental, unimportant. That wasn't how the world would become clearer.
This man at his desk, said Humboldt, would naturally need a nurturing wife to warm his feet and cook his food, along with numerous children to clean his instruments and parents who tended him like a baby. And a solid house with a good roof against the rain. And a cap so that he would never get earache.
Gauss asked what he meant by that.
He was speaking in general.
In that case: yes, he'd need all that and more. How else would a man survive?
The servant, in his nightshirt already, came in.
Humboldt asked what kind of manners these were, couldn't he even knock?
The servant gave him a piece of paper. It had just been handed in, by a street urchin. It seemed to be important.
Uninteresting, said Humboldt. He didn't accept letters at night from who-knew-who. It was like something out of a play by Kotzebue! Reluctantly he unfolded the paper and read it. Curious, he said. A poem. Terribly badly rhymed. Something about trees, wind, and the sea. There was also a raven and a medieval king. Then it stopped. Obviously no one could find a rhyme for silver.
The servant asked him to turn the piece of paper over.
Humboldt did so, and read. Dear God, he said quietly.
Gauss sat up.
Apparently young Mr. Eugen had got himself into difficulties. He had smuggled this out of the police prison.
Gauss stared at the ceiling, motionless.
This was really rather unpleasant, said
Humboldt. He was, after all, a state official.
Gauss nodded.
And nor could he help. Things would take their course. Besides one could rely on Prussian justice, there would be no miscarriage. If someone had done nothing, there was nothing to fear.
Gauss looked at his pipe.
It was shaming, said Humboldt, most vexatious. Nonetheless it involved his guest.
There had never been a thing you could do with the boy said Gauss. He pushed the pipe stem between his teeth.
They were silent for a while. Humboldt stepped over to the window and stared down into the dark courtyard.
So what could one do?
Yes, said Gauss.
It had been a long day, said Humboldt. They were both tired.
And neither of them so young any more, said Gauss.
Humboldt went to the door and said good night.
He would finish his pipe, said Gauss.
Humboldt picked up the candelabrum and closed the door behind him.
Gauss folded his hands behind his head. The only light came from the glow of his pipe. Down on the street a vehicle rolled by with a tinny noise. Gauss took his pipe out of his mouth and twisted it between his fingers. He pursed his lips and cocked his head. Steps were coming closer, then the door flew open.
It wasn't acceptable, cried Humboldt, he would not tolerate it!
So, said Gauss.
But there wasn't much time. Tonight Eugen would still be in the custody of the gendarmes. First thing tomorrow the secret police would take over, then it would be impossible to stop anything. If they wanted to get him out, it had to be now.
Gauss asked if he knew how late it was.
Humboldt stared at him.
He hadn't been up and about at this hour for years. If he thought about it properly, he hadn't ever done it at all.
Humboldt, disbelieving, set down the candelabrum.
So all right. Gauss sniffed, laid down his pipe, and got to his feet. It was unquestionably going to make him sicker.
He looked perfectly well to him, said Humboldt.
That was quite enough, cried Gauss. Things were bad as it was. He didn't have to let himself be insulted!
SPIRITS
Commander of Gendarmerie Vogt had gone out. His wife, wrapped in a woolen housecoat, face and hair still rumpled with sleep, told them he had come home briefly after the reception at the Choral Hall, and then was called away, apparently there had been some arrests. He had come back again shortly before midnight, had changed into civilian clothes, and then gone off again. It happened like that once a week. No, she didn't know where.
Then there was nothing to be done, said Humboldt. He bowed and made to leave.
He thought, said Gauss.
The two of them looked at him questioningly
He thought that there was something they could do. Humboldt had never been married so he didn't know how things went. A wife whose husband was out once a week at night knew very well where he was hiding himself, and if he didn't give it away himself, she found out anyway. And now she could do a great favor for two old gentlemen.
She really couldn't say a thing, murmured Frau Vogt.
Gauss took a step closer, laid his hand on her arm, and asked why she was making it so hard for them. Did he and his friend look like informers, like the kind of people who couldn't keep a secret? He lowered his head and smiled at her. It was really important.
But nobody must know it came from her.
Of course not, said Gauss.
It wasn't anything forbidden. And it had only started since the death of the grandmother. There were suspicions that there was hidden money somewhere, but nobody knew where. So they were trying everything they could.
See, same old thing, said Gauss as they were going down the stairs. Women could never keep their mouths shut. If the wife knew, everyone would know. Could they please stop for a moment at the police station? He wanted to check on the good-for-nothing.
Impossible, said Humboldt. He couldn't allow himself to be seen there.
The leading Republican in Europe couldn't go into a police jail?
The leading Republican in particular, said Humboldt. His position was more fragile than might be apparent at first glance. Not even fame was always a protection. Navigating the Orinoco had been easier than navigating this city. He lowered his voice. In the police jail the gendarmerie divided prisoners strictly by rank; their particulars would only be taken down by the secret police the following morning. If they could succeed in persuading Vogt to send the young man home at once, no trace of him would be left in the records.
The boy was hopeless, said Gauss. He liked that Weber person much better.
One couldn't choose these things, said Humboldt.
Apparently not, said Gauss, and said nothing more until the coach came to a halt.
They went through a dirty courtyard and up some stairs. Twice they had to pause until Gauss could catch his breath again. They reached the third floor, and Humboldt knocked on the apartment door. A pale man with an elaborately combed, pointed beard opened up. He was wearing a gold-embroidered shirt, velvet trousers, and worn bedroom slippers.
Lorenzi, he said. It took them several seconds to grasp that he had introduced himself.
Humboldt asked if the commander of gendarmerie were there.
He was there, said Herr Lorenzi in stumbling German, along with a number of other people. But anyone who wanted to come in must join the circle.
All right, said Gauss.
The circle must not be broken, said Lorenzi, must not be torn apart in this world or the next. In other words, it would cost money.
Gauss shook his head but Humboldt stuck some gold coins in Lorenzi's hand and the latter stepped aside with a bow.
The hall was laid with worn-out carpets. Through a half-open door they could hear a woman's voice, wailing. They went in.
The room was lit by a single candle. People were sitting around a large table. The wailing was coming from a girl of about seventeen, wearing a white nightdress. Her face was covered in sweat and her hair clung to her forehead. To her left, eyes closed, sat Commander of Gendarmerie Vogt. Next to him, a man with a bald head, three older ladies, a woman in black, and several gentlemen in dark suits. The girl rolled her head and groaned. Humboldt wanted to go out again, but Gauss stopped him. Lorenzi pushed up two chairs. Hesitantly they sat down at the table.
And now, said Lorenzi, they must all hold each other's hands.
Not on his life, said Humboldt.
It wasn't so bad, said Gauss, and seized Lorenzi's hand. If they got thrown out, it wouldn't help either.
No, said Humboldt.
Then it wouldn't work, said Lorenzi.
Gauss sighed and reached for Humboldt's left hand, just as a woman of about sixty who looked like a statue that had been left out in the rain reached for his right. Humboldt went rigid.
The girl tossed her head back and screamed. Her nightdress slipped down as she twisted violently. Gauss looked at her with raised eyebrows. Her body leapt into the air as if she wanted to jump up, but the two men to either side of her held her fast; she bared her teeth, her eyes rolled, she rocked from side to side and whimpered. She had seen King Solomon, she panted, but he didn't want to come so now she was summoning someone else.
He wasn't going to be able to stand this, said Humboldt.
It was actually quite fun, said Gauss. And the little one wasn't bad at all.
She screamed loudly, a tremor threw her body backwards; if the men hadn't been holding her, she and her chair would have tipped over. Then she became calmer again, laid her head to one side, and stared at the tabletop. Someone was here, she said. He wanted his uncle to know that everything was forgiven. A son was waiting for his mother. And further off she could see Napoleon, the devil in human form, burning in hell. He was uttering horrible blasphemies and wouldn't repent. She turned her head to listen. Her nightdress was hanging open down beyond her breast. Her skin glistened
damply. She could see someone else's brother, she said, he was saying his death was natural and wholly in order, there was no need to keep making enquiries. And someone else's mother. The mother was very disappointed. Her son's work would turn out to be insignificant, she knew now that he'd only been waiting for her to die so that he could run off like a vagabond, and in the cave that time he'd behaved as if he didn't see her. Then there was a child there, who was letting his parents know he was doing quite well in the circumstances, the hall was large, they could fly all the time, and if you were careful, no pain was inflicted on you. And an old lady was saying that she hadn't hidden any money and couldn't help. The girl groaned, everyone leaned forward, but nothing more came out. She made a strangled noise, then raised her head, gently freed her hands from the grip of the men, pulled up and straightened her nightdress, and smiled at no one in particular in a confused sort of way.
Good, said Gauss.
Vogt, startled, looked at him across the table. He had only just noticed them.
A word, please, said Humboldt. He was white, and his face looked like a mask.
Fascinating, said the woman in black.
A unique moment of communication between the worlds, said Lorenzi. Everyone looked at him reproachfully, he had spoken without an Italian accent; hastily he said it again the proper way. The girl glanced around, embarrassed. Gauss was watching her alertly.
Vogt asked if they'd followed him.
After a fashion, said Humboldt. He had a request. A conversation à deux. He made a sign to Gauss to stay where he was and went out into the hall with Vogt. He was here because of his grandmother, Vogt whispered. Nobody knew where the money was. His situation wasn't easy. A gentleman must pay his debts, come what may. And that's why he was trying everything.
Humboldt cleared his throat, and closed his eyes for a moment or two as if to pull himself together. A young man, he said, the son of the astronomer over there, had got himself arrested at some foolish gathering. There was still time to simply send him home again.
Vogt stroked his mustache.
One would be doing one's country a service. Prussia was very deeply committed to working with this man. It was in the highest interests of state.