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TITAN:

A ROMANCE.

FROM THE GERMAN OF

JEAN PAUL FRIEDRICH RICHTER.

TRANSLATED BY

CHARLES T. BROOKS.

IN TWO VOLUMES.

VOL. I.

---

The highest principle of this world's worth is Justice; the highest principle of this world's joy is Love; the highest principle of this world's worthiness is Harmony.

The highest principle of the present, the German, the eighteenth century, is Exaggeration, or Titanism, in both good and evil.

The highest principle of the age of the Titans is, that we must not be Titans, but men.

The Titan in question, the subject of the romance, is the Hero, who, when he is only seventeen years old, is accused of a crime which he did not commit.

The story of the Titan, who lived in the eighteenth century, is an attempt to show that the hero, with his friends, resisted the iniquity which moved earth and hell to ruin him.

The hero is Albano de Cesara, the son of a poor professor in the smallest of German cities, who is educated in the house of a rich noble, Gaspard de Cesara.

The novel begins with the description of the hero's youth.

Albano, when he was a young boy, was timid and shy, but in his soul he had a passionate love for his friend, Roquairol.

Roquairol, his great friend, his twin soul, was very different from him.

Roquairol was handsome, bold, a great talker, full of life, a man who loved nothing but himself, and who would stop at nothing to attain his ends.

The two boys were educated together in the house of Gaspard de Cesara, a rich nobleman, who had a large library and a large collection of curiosities.

Gaspard de Cesara was a man of the world, a man of science, a man of the Enlightenment, a man who believed in nothing but what he could see and touch.

He was Albano's guardian, and he took a great interest in the boy's education.

Albano was very fond of his guardian, and he would spend hours in the library, reading and studying the books which Gaspard de Cesara possessed.

Roquairol, on the other hand, was not so studious. He preferred to spend his time in the fields and forests, hunting and fishing.

He was a great sportsman, and he was very popular with the servants and the tenants of the estate.

The two boys were inseparable, and they would spend every moment they could together.

Albano looked up to Roquairol, and he admired his strength and his boldness.

Roquairol, in turn, was fond of Albano, and he would often read to him from the books which he found in the library.

One day, Albano was reading a book of poetry, and he was so absorbed in it that he did not notice Roquairol enter the room.

Roquairol snatched the book from his hands, and he threw it into the fire.

"What is this rubbish?" he said. "You waste your time with these follies. You should be out in the world, doing something."

Albano was shocked, and he burst into tears.

"It is beautiful," he sobbed. "It speaks of love and beauty."

Roquairol laughed. "Love and beauty! What do you know of such things? You are a fool, Albano. You need to learn to be a man."

Albano dried his tears, and he looked at Roquairol with a strange expression.

He knew that Roquairol was right in one thing: he was a fool, and he needed to learn to be a man.

From that day on, Albano tried to change. He tried to be more like Roquairol, more bold, more worldly.

But it was not in his nature. He was a dreamer, a poet, a man of feeling.

Roquairol saw this, and he mocked him for it.

"You will never be a man, Albano," he said. "You will always be a child."

Albano felt a pang of jealousy. He loved Roquairol, but he also envied his strength and his self-confidence.

One day, Gaspard de Cesara decided that it was time for the boys to go to the university.

He sent them to the university of Jena, where they were to study law.

Albano was delighted. He hoped that the university would help him to become a better man, a man worthy of Roquairol's admiration.

Roquairol was less enthusiastic. He preferred the freedom of the country to the confinement of the lecture halls.

At Jena, they met new friends, and they fell in with a different crowd.

Albano fell in with a group of idealists, poets, and philosophers. They talked of Kant and Fichte, of beauty and truth, of the meaning of life.

Roquairol, on the other hand, fell in with a group of young men who were lovers of pleasure, gamblers, and duelists.

They spent their nights in taverns, drinking and fighting.

Albano tried to dissuade Roquairol from this life, but it was no use.

"You are a prude, Albano," Roquairol said. "You do not know how to live."

One evening, Roquairol got into a fight with a student, and he was wounded in the arm.

Albano rushed to his side, and he tended to his wound.

"You fool," Albano said. "You will kill yourself with this life."

Roquairol smiled. "Do not worry about me, Albano. I am immortal."

But Albano saw the pain in his eyes, and he knew that Roquairol was not immortal. He was a man, like any other man, and he was mortal.

The two friends grew further and further apart. Albano devoted himself to his studies, and he began to write poetry.

Roquairol continued his life of pleasure, and he began to gamble heavily.

One night, Roquairol lost all his money at cards. He was desperate, and he asked Albano for a loan.

Albano gave him all the money he had, but it was not enough to cover his debts.

Roquairol was ashamed, and he fled from Jena.

Albano never saw him again for many years. He finished his studies, and he returned to his home, a changed man.

He was no longer the timid boy he once was. He was a man of strength and purpose, a man who knew the value of virtue and truth.

He took a position as a tutor in a poor family, and he devoted himself to the education of their children.

He found happiness in his simple life, and he forgot about Roquairol and his wild ways.

But the past was not so easily forgotten.

One day, a letter arrived from Gaspard de Cesara, calling him back to the city.

Gaspard de Cesara was dying, and he wanted to see Albano one last time.

Albano returned to the city, and he found Gaspard de Cesara in his bedchamber, surrounded by doctors and lawyers.

Gaspard de Cesara looked old and frail, but his eyes still burned with the fire of his intellect.

"Albano," he whispered. "My boy. You have done well. You have become a good man."

Albano knelt by his bedside, and he took his hand.

"I owe everything to you, sir," he said. "You have been a father to me."

Gaspard de Cesara smiled. "I have one last request to make of you, Albano. I have a daughter, Lisa. She is your age. I want you to marry her."

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