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WILHELM MEISTER -- VOLUME 2

CHAPTER 11

AT the hand of the Eldest, our friend now proceeded
through a stately portal, into a round, or rather octagonal
hall, so richly decked with pictures, that it struck him with
astonishment as he entered. All this, he easily conceived,
must have a significant import, though at the moment he saw
not so clearly what it was. While about to question his
guide on this subject, the latter invited him to step forward
into a gallery, open on the one side, and stretching round a
spacious gay flowery garden. The wall, however, not the
flowers, attracted the eyes of the stranger; it was covered
with paintings, and Wilhelm could not walk far without
observing that the Sacred Books of the Israelites had furnished
the materials for these figures.

"It is here," said the Eldest, "that we teach our First
Religion, the religion which, for the sake of brevity, I named
the Ethnic. The spirit of it is to be sought for in the history
of the world; its outward form, in the events of that history.
Only in the return of similar destinies on whole nations, can
it properly be apprehended."

"I observe," said Wilhelm, "you have done the Israelites
the honour to select their history as the groundwork of this
delineation, or rather, you have made it the leading object
there."

"As you see," replied the Eldest; "for you will remark,
that on the socles and friezes we have introduced another
series of transactions and occurrences, not so much of a synchronistic as of a synchronistic kind; since, among all
nations, we discover records of a similar import, and grounded
on the same facts. Thus you perceive here, while in the
main field of the picture, Abraham receives a visit from his
gods in the form of fair youths, Apollo, among the herdsmen
of Admetus, is painted above on the frieze. From which we
may learn, that the gods, when they appear to men, are
commonly unrecognised of them."

The friends walked on. Wilhelm, for the most part, met
with well-known objects, but they were here exhibited in a
livelier and more expressive manner than he had been used to
see them. On some few matters he requested explanation,
and at last could not help returning to his former question;
Why the Israelitish history had been chosen in preference to
all others?

The Eldest answered: "Among all Heathen religions, for
such also is the Israelitish, this has the most distinguished
advantages; of which I shall mention only a few. At the
Ethnic judgment-seat, at the judgment-seat of the God of
Nations, it is not asked Whether this is the best, the most
excellent nation, but whether it lasts, whether it has continued.
The Israelitish people never was good for much, as its own
leaders, judges, rulers, prophets have a thousand times reproachfully
declared; it possesses few virtues, and most of the
faults of other nations; but in cohesion, steadfastness, valour,
and when all this would not serve, in obstinate toughness, it has
no match. It is the most perseverant nation in the world: it
is, it was and will be; to glorify the name of Jehovah, through
all ages. We have set it up, therefore, as the pattern-figure;
as the main figure, to which the others only serve as a frame."

"It becomes not me to dispute with you," said Wilhelm,
"since you have instruction to impart. Open to me, therefore,
the other advantages of this people, or rather of its
history, of its religion."

"One chief advantage," said the other, "is its excellent collection of Sacred Books. These stand so happily combined
together, that even out of the most diverse elements, the feeling'
of a whole still rises before us. They are complete enough
to satisfy; fragmentary enough to excite; barbarous enough
to rouse; tender enough to appease: and for how many other
contradicting merits might not these Books, might not this
one Book, be praised! "
The series of main figures, as well as their relations to the
smaller which above and below accompanied them, gave the
guest so much to think of, that he scarcely heard the pertinent
remarks of his guide; who, by what he said, seemed desirous
rather to divert our friend's attention, than to fix it on the
paintings. Once, however, the old man said, on some occasion:
"Another advantage of the Israelitish religion, I must
here mention; it has not embodied its God in any form; and
so has left us at liberty to represent him in a worthy human
shape, and likewise, by way of contrast, to designate Idolatry
by forms of beasts and monsters."
Our friend had now, in his short wandering through this
hall, again brought the spirit of universal history before his
mind; in regard to the events, he had not failed to meet with
something new. So likewise, by the simultaneous presentment
of the pictures, by the reflections of his guide, many new views
had risen on him; and he could not but rejoice in thinking
that his Felix was, by so dignified a visible representation, to
seize and appropriate for his whole life those great, significant
and exemplary events, as if they had actually been present,
and transacted beside him. He came at length to regard the
exhibition altogether with the eyes of the child, and in this
point of view it perfectly contented him. Thus wandering on,
they had now reached the gloomy and perplexed periods of the
history, the destruction of the City and the Temple, the
murder, exile, slavery of whole masses of this stiff-necked
people. Its subsequent fortunes were delineated in a cunning
allegorical way; a real historical delineation of them would
have lain without the limits of true Art.
At this point, the gallery abruptly terminated in a closed
door, and Wilhelm was surprised to see himself already at the
end. "In your historical series," said he, "I find a chasm.
You have destroyed the Temple of Jerusalem, and dispersed
the people; yet you have not introduced the divine Man who
taught there shortly before; to whom, shortly before, they
would give no ear."
"To have done this, as you require it, would have been an
error. The life of that divine Man, whom you allude to,
stands in no connection with the general history of the world
in his time. It was a private life; his teaching was a teaching
for individuals. What has publicly befallen vast masses of
people, and the minor parts which compose them, belongs to
the general history of the world, to the general religion of the
world; the religion we have named the First. What inwardly
befalls individuals, belongs to the Second religion, the Philosophical:
such a religion was it that Christ taught and
practised, so long as he went about on Earth. For this
reason, the external here closes, and I now open to you the
internal. "
A door went back, and they entered a similar gallery;
where Wilhelm soon recognised a corresponding series of
pictures from the New Testament. They seemed as if by
another hand than the first: all was softer; forms, movements,
accompaniments, light and colouring. "Here," said the guide,
after they had looked over a few pictures, " you behold neither
actions nor events, but Miracles and Similitudes. There is
here a new world, a new exterior, different from the former;
and an interior, which was altogether wanting there. By
Miracles and Similitudes, a new world is opened up. Those
make the common extraordinary, these the extraordinary
common."
"You will have the goodness," said Wilhelm, "to explain
these few words more minutely; for, by my own light, I
cannot."
"They have a natural meaning," said the other, "though a
deep one. Examples will bring it out most easily and soonest.
There is nothing more common and customary than eating
and drinking; but it is extraordinary to transform a drink into
another of more noble sort; to multiply a portion of food
that it suffice a multitude. Nothing is more common than
sickness and corporeal diseases; but to remove, to mitigate
these by spiritual or spiritual-like means, is extraordinary;
and even in this lies the wonder of the Miracle, that the
common and the extraordinary, the possible and the impossible,
become one. With the Similitude again, with the
Parable, the converse is the case: here it is the sense, the view,
the idea, that forms the high, the unattainable, the extraordinary.
When this embodies itself in a common, customary,
comprehensible figure, so that it meets us as if alive, present,
actual; so that we can seize it, appropriate, retain it, live
with it as with our equal,-this is a second sort of miracle,
and is justly placed beside the first sort, nay, perhaps preferred
to it. Here a living doctrine is pronounced, a doctrine which
can cause no argument: it is not an opinion about what is
right and wrong; it is Right and Wrong themselves, and
indisputably."
This part of the gallery was shorter; indeed it formed but
the fourth part of the circuit enclosing the interior court.
Yet if in the former part you merely walked along, you here
liked to linger, you here walked to and fro. The objects were
not so striking, not so varied: yet they invited you the more
to penetrate their deep still meaning. Our two friends,
accordingly, turned round at the end of the space; Wilhelm,
at the same time, expressing some surprise that these delineations
went no farther than the Supper, than the scene where
the Master and his Disciples part. He inquired for the
remaining portion of the history.
"In all sorts of instruction," said the Eldest, "in all sorts
of communication, we are fond of separating whatever it is
possible to separate; for by this means alone can the notion
of importance and peculiar significance arise in the young
mind. Actual experience of itself mingles and mixes all
things together: here, accordingly, we have entirely disjoined
that sublime Man's life from its termination. In life, he
appears as a true Philosopher-let not the expression stagger
you-as a wise man in the highest sense. He stands firm to
his point; he goes on his way inflexibly; and while he exalts
the lower to himself, while he makes the ignorant, the poor,
the sick, partakers of his wisdom, of his riches, of his strength,
he, on the other hand, in no wise conceals his divine origin;
he dares to equal himself with God, nay, to declare that he
himself is God. In this manner is he wont, from youth
upwards, to astound his familiar friends; of these he gains a
part to his own cause; irritates the rest against him; and
shows to all men, who are aiming at a certain elevation in
doctrine and life, what they have to look for from the world.
And thus, for the noble portion of mankind his walk and conversation
are even more instructive and profitable than his
death: for to those trials everyone is called, to this trial but
a few. Now, omitting all that results from this consideration,
do but look at the touching scene of the Last Supper. Here
the Wise Man, as it ever is, leaves those that are his own
utterly orphaned behind him; and while he is careful for the
Good, he feeds along with them a traitor by whom he and
the Better are to be destroyed."
With these words the Eldest opened a door; and Wilhelm
faltered in. surprise, as he found himself again in the first hall
at the entrance. They had, in the mean while, as he now saw,
passed round the whole circuit of the court. "I hoped," said
Wilhelm, "you were leading me to the conclusion, and you
take me back to the beginning."
"For the present," said the Eldest, "I can show you nothing
farther: more we do not lay before our pupils, more we do not
explain to them, than what you have now gone through. All
that is external, worldly, universal, we communicate to each
from youth upwards; what is more particularly spiritual and
conversant with the heart, to those only who grow up with
some thoughtfulness of temper; and the rest, which is opened
only once a-year, cannot be imparted save to those whom we
are sending forth as finished. That last Religion which arises
from the Reverence of what is beneath us; that veneration of
the contradictory, the hated, the avoided, we give each of our
pupils, in small portions by way of outfit, along with him into
the world, merely that he may know where more is to be had,
should such a want spring up within him. I invite you to
return hither at the end of a year, to visit our general
festival, and see how far your son is advanced: then shall you
be admitted into the Sanctuary of Sorrow."
"Permit me one question," said Wilhelm: "as you have set
up the life of this divine Man for a pattern and example, have
you likewise selected his sufferings, his death, as a model of
exalted patience?"
"Undoubtedly we have," replied the Eldest. " Of this we
make no secret: but we draw a veil over those sufferings, even
because we reverence them so highly. We hold it a damnable
audacity to bring forth that torturing Cross, and the Holy
One who suffers on it, or to expose them to the light of the
sun, which hid its face when a reckless world forced such a
sight on it; to take these mysterious secrets, in which the divine
depth of Sorrow lies hid, and play with them, fondle them,
trick them out, and rest not till the most reverend of all
solemnities appears vulgar and paltry. Let so much, for the
present, suffice to put your mind at peace respecting your son;
and to convince you, that on meeting him again, you will find
him trained, more or less, in one department or another, but
at least in a proper way; and, at all events, not wavering,
perplexed and unstable."
Wilhelm still lingered, looking at the pictures in this
entrance-hall, and wishing to get explanation of their meaning.
"This too," said the Eldest, "we must still owe you for
a twelvemonth. The instruction, which, in the interim, we
give the children, no stranger is allowed to witness: then,
however, come to us; and you will hear what our best speakers
think it serviceable to make public on these matters."
Shortly after this conversation, a knocking was heard at the
little gate. The Overseer of last night announced himself: he
had brought out Wilhelm's horse; and so our friend took
leave of the Three; who, as he set out, consigned him to the
Overseer with these words: "This man is now numbered
among the Trusted, and thou understandest what thou hast
to tell him in answer to his questions; for doubtless, he
still wishes to be informed on much that he has seen and
heard while here: purpose and circumstance are known to
thee."
Wilhelm had, in fact, some questions on his mind; and
these he ere long put into words. As they rode along, they
were saluted by the children, as on the preceding evening:
but today, though rarely, he now and then observed a boy
who did not pause in his work to salute the Overseer, but let
him pass unheeded. Wilhelm asked the calise of this, and
what such an exception meant. His companion answered:
"It is full of meaning; for it is the highest punishment which
we inflict on our pupils; they are declared unworthy to show
reverence, and obliged to exhibit themselves as rude and
uncultivated natures: but they do their utmost to get free
of this situation, and in general adapt themselves with great
rapidity to any duty. Should a young creature, on the other
hand, obdurately make no attempt at return and amendment,
he is then sent back to his parents, with a brief but pointed
statement of his case. Whoever cannot suit himself to the
regulations, must leave the district where they are in force."
Another circumstance excited Wilhelm's curiosity today, as
as it had done yesterday: the variety of colour and shape
apparent in the dress of the pupils. Hereby no gradation
could be indicated; for children who saluted differently, were
sometimes clothed alike; and others agreeing in salutation,
differed in apparel. Wilhelm inquired the reason of this
seeming contradiction. "It will be explained," said the other,
" when I tell you, that by this means we endeavour to find out
the children's several characters. With all our general strictness and regularity, we allow in this point a certain latitude
of choice. 'Within the limits of our own stores of cloth and
garnitures, the pupils are permitted to select what colour they
please: and so likewise, within moderate limits, in regard
to shape and cut. Their procedure, in these matters, we
accurately note; for by the colour we discover their turn of
thinking; by the cut, their turn of acting. However, a
decisive judgment in this is rendered difficult by one
peculiar property of human nature, by the tendency to
imitate, the inclination to unite with something. It is very
seldom that a pupil fancies any dress that has not been
already there; for most part, they select something known,
something which they see before their eyes. Yet this also we
find worth observing; by such external circumstances, they
declare themselves of one party or another; they unite with
this or that; and thus some general features of their characters
are indicated; we perceive whither each tends, what example
he follows.
" e have had cases where the dispositions of our children
verged to generality; where one fashion threatened to extend
over all; and any deviation from it to dwindle into the state
of exception. Such a turn of matters we endeavour softly to
stop; we let our stores run out; this and that sort of stuff,
this and that sort of decoration is no longer to be had: we
introduce something new and attractive; by bright colours
and short smart shape, we allure the lively; by grave shadings,
by commodious many-folded make, the thoughtful; and thus,
by degrees, restore the equilibrium.
"For to uniform we are altogether disinclined; it conceals
the character, and, more than any other species of distortion,
withdraws the peculiarities of children from the eye of their
superiors. "
Amid this and other conversation, Wilhelm reached the
border of the Province; and this at the point, where, by the
direction of his antiquarian friend, he was to leave it, to
pursue his next special object.
At parting, it was now settled with the Overseer, that after
the space of a twelvemonth, Wilhelm should return, when the
grand Triennial Festival was to be celebrated; on which
occasion all the parents were invited; and finished pupils were
sent forth into the tasks of chanceful life. Then too, so he
was informed, he might visit at his pleasure all the other
Districts; where, on peculiar principles, each branch of education
was communicated and reduced to practice in complete
isolation, and with every furtherance.

CHAPTER 12

Hersilia to Wilhelm
My valued, and to speak it plainly, dear friend, you are
wrong; and yet, as acting on your own conviction, not wrong
either. So the Nut-brown Maid is found, then; found, seen,
spoken to, known and acknowledged! And you tell us farther,
that it is impossible to wish this strange person, in her own
way, any happier condition; or, in her present one, to be of
any real advantage to her.
And now you make it a point of conscience not to tell us
where that wondrous being lives. This you may settle with
your own conscience; but to us it is unconscionable. You
think to calm Lenardo by assuring him that she is well. He
had said, almost promised, that he would content himself with
this: but what will not the passionate promise for others and
themselves! Know then that the matter is not in the least
concluded as it yet stands. She is happy, you tell us, happy
by her own activity and merit: but the youth would like to
learn the How, the When and the Where; and, what is worse
than this, his sisters too would like to learn. Half a year is
gone since your departure; till the end of another half year we
cannot hope to see you. Could not you, like a shrewd and
knowing man, contrive to play your eternal Rouge-et-Noir in
our neighbourhood? I have seen people that could make the
Knight skip over all the chess-board without ever lighting
twice on one spot. You should learn this feat; your friends
would not have to want you so long.
But to set my good-will to you in the clearest light, I now
tell you in confidence, that there are two most enchanting
creatures on the road; whence I say not, nor whither; described
they cannot be, and no eulogy will do them justice. A younger
and an elder lady, between whom it always grieves one to
make choice; the former so lovely, that all must wish to be
loved by her; the latter so attractive, that you must wish to
live beside her, though she did not love you. I could like,
with all my heart, to see you hemmed in, for three days,
between these two Splendours; on the morning of the fourth,
your rigorous vow would stand you in excellent stead.
By way of foretaste, I send you a story, which in some degree
refers to them; what of it is true or fictitious, you can try to
learn from themselves.
THE MAN OF FIFTY
The Major came riding into the court of the mansion; and
Hilaria, his niece, was already standing without to receive him,
at the bottom of the stairs which led up to the apartments.
Scarcely could he recognise her, for she had grown both in
stature and beauty. She flew to meet him; he pressed her to
his breast with the feeling of a father.
To the Baroness, his sister, he was likewise welcome; and as
Hilaria hastily retired to prepare breakfast, the Major said,
with a joyful air: "For this time I can come to the point at
once, and say that our business is finished. Our brother, the
Chief Marshal, has at last convinced himself that he can
neither manage farmers nor stewards. In his lifetime he
makes over the estates to us and our children: the annuity
he bargains for is high, indeed; but we can still pay it: we
gain something for the present, and for the future all. This
new arrangement is to be completed forthwith. And as I
very soon expect my discharge, I can again look forward to
an active life, which may secure decided advantages to us and
ours. We shall calmly see our children growing up beside us;
and it will depend on us, on them, to hasten their union."
"All this were well," said the Baroness, "had not I a secret
to inform thee of, which I myself discovered first. Hilaria's
heart is no longer free: on her side thy son has little or
nothing to hope for."
"What sayest thou?" cried the Major. "Is it possible?
While we have been taking all pains to settle economical concerns,
does inclination play us such a trick? Tell me, love,
quick tell me, who is it that has fettered Hilaria's heart? Or
is it then so bad as this? Is it not, perhaps, some transient
impression we may hope to efface again?"
"Thou must think and guess a little first," replied the
Baroness, and thereby heightened his impatience. It had
mounted to the utmost pitch, when the entrance of Hilaria,
with the servants bringing in breakfast, put a negative on
any quick solution of the riddle.
The Major himself thought he saw the fair girl with other
eyes than a little while before. He almost felt as if jealous of
the happy man, whose image had been able to imprint itself
on a soul so lovely. The breakfast he could not relish; and
he noticed not that all was ordered as he liked to have it, and
as he had used to wish and require it.
In this silence and stagnation, Hilaria herself almost lost
her liveliness. The mother felt embarrassed, and led her
daughter to the harpsichord: but Hilaria's sprightly and
expressive playing scarcely extorted any approbation from
the Major. He wished the breakfast and the lovely girl fairly
out of the way; and the Baroness was at last obliged to resolve
on breaking up, and proposed to her brother a walk in the
garden.
No sooner were they by themselves, than the Major pressingly
repeated his question; to which, after a pause, his sister
answered, smiling: "If thou wouldst find the happy man
whom she loves, thou hast not far to go, he is quite at hand;
she loves thee!"
The Major stopped in astonishment, then cried: "It were a
most unseasonable jest to trick me into such a thought, which,
if true, would make me so embarrassed and unhappy. For
though I need time to recover from my amazement, I see at
one glance how grievously our circumstances would be disturbed
by so unlooked-for an incident. The only thing that comforts
me is my persuasion that attachments of this sort are apparent
merely; that a self-deception lurks behind them, and that a
good true soul will undoubtedly return from such mistakes,
either by its own strength, or at least by a little help from
judicious friends."
"I am not of that opinion," said the Baroness; "by all the
symptoms, Hilaria's present feeling is a very serious one."
"A thing so unnatural I should not have expected from so
natural a character," replied the Major.
"So unnatural it is not, after all," said his sister. "I myself
recollect having, in my own youth, an attachment to a
man still older than thou. Thou art fifty; not so very great
an age for a German, if perhaps other livelier nations do fail
sooner."
"But how dost thou support thy conjecture?" said the
Major.
"It is no conjecture, it is certainty. The details thou shalt
learn by and by."
Hilaria joined them; and the Major felt himself, against
his will, a second time altered. Her presence seemed to him
still dearer and more precious than before; her manner more
affectionate and tender; already he began to put some faith
in his sister's statement. The feeling was highly delightful,
though he neither would permit nor confess this to his mind.
Hilaria was, in truth, peculiarly interesting; her manner
blended in closest union a soft shyness as towards a lover, and
a trustful frankness as towards an uncle; for she really, and
with her whole soul, loved him. The garden lay in all the
pomp of spring; and the Major, who saw so many old trees
again putting on their vesture, might also believe in the
returning of his own spring. And who would not have been
tempted to it, at the side of this most lovely maiden?
So passed the day with them; the various household epochs
were gone through in high cheerfulness: in the evening, after
supper, Hilaria returned to her harpsichord; the Major listened
with other ears than in the morning; one melody winded into
another; one song produced a second; and scarcely could
midnight separate the little party.
On retiring to his room, the Major found everything
arranged to suit his old habitual conveniences: some copperplates,
even, which he liked to look at, had been shifted from
other apartments; and his eyes being at last opened, he
saw himself attended to and flattered in the most minute
particulars.
A few hours' sleep sufficed on this occasion: his buoyant
spirits aroused him early. But now he soon found occasion to
observe, that a new order of things carries many inconveniences
along with it. His old groom, who also discharged the functions
of lackey and valet, he had not once reproved during
many years; for all went its usual course in the most rigid
order; the horses were dressed, and the clothes brushed, at the
proper moment; but today the master had risen earlier, and
nothing suited as it used to do.
Ere long a new circumstance combined with this to ruffle
him still farther. At other times all had been right, as his
servant had prepared it for him; now, however, on advancing
to the glass, he found himself not at all as he wished to be.
Some grey hairs he could not deny; and of wrinkles also there
appears to have been a trace or two. He wiped and powdered
more than usual; and was fain at last to let matters stand as
they could. Then, it seemed, there were still creases in his
coat, and still dust on his boots. The old groom knew not
what to make of this, and was amazed to see so altered a
master before him.
In spite of all these hindrances, the Major got down to the
garden in good time. Hilaria, whom he hoped to find there,
he actually found. She brought him a nosegay, and he had
not the heart to kiss her as usual, and press her to his breast.
He felt himself in the most delightful embarrassment, and
yielded to his feelings, without reflecting whither they might
carry him.
The Baroness soon joined them, and directing her brother
to a note which had just been brought her by a special messenger,
she cried: "Thou wilt not guess whom this announces
to us! "
"Tell us at once, then," said the Major; and it now
appeared that an old theatrical friend was travelling by a
road not far off, and purposing to call for a moment. " I am
anxious to see him again," said the Major: "he is no chicken
now; and I hear he still plays young parts."
"He must be ten years older than thou," replied the
Baroness.
"He must," said the Major, "from all that I remember."
They had not waited long, when a lively, handsome, courteous
man stept forward to them. Yet the friends soon
recognised each other; and recollections of all sorts enlivened
the conversation. They proceeded to questions, to answers, to
narratives; they mutually made known their present situations,
and in a short time felt as if they had never been separated.
Secret history informs us that this person had, in former
days, being then a very elegant and graceful youth, had the
good or bad fortune to attract the favour of a lady of rank;
that by this means he had come into perplexity and danger;
out of which the Major, at the very moment when the saddest
fate seemed impending, had happily delivered him. From
that hour he continued grateful, to the brother as well as to
the sister; for it was she that, by timeful warning, had
originated their precautions.
For a while before dinner, the men were left alone. Not
without surprise, nay, in some measure, with amazement, had
the Major viewed as a whole, and in detail, the exterior condition
of his old friend. He seemed not in the smallest
altered: and it was not to be wondered at that he could still
appear on the stage as an actor of youthful parts. "Thou
inspectest me more strictly than is fair," said he at last to the
Major: "I fear thou findest the difference between this and
bygone times but too great."
" Not at all," replied the Major: "on the contrary, it fills
me with astonishment to find thy look fresher and younger
than mine; though I know thou wert a firmset man at the
time when I, with the boldness of a callow desperado, stood
by thee in certain straits."
"It is thy own fault," replied the other; "it is the fault of
all like thee; and though you are not to be loudly censured
for it, you are still to be blamed. You think only of the
needful; you wish to be, not to seem. This is very well, so
long as one is anything. But when, at last, Being comes to
recommend itself by Seeming, and this Seeming is found to be
even more transient than the Being, then everyone of you
discovers that he would not have done amiss, if, in his care for
what was inward, he had not entirely neglected what was
outward."
"Thou art right," replied the Major, and could scarcely
suppress a sigh.
" Perhaps not altogether right," said the aged youth; "for
though in my trade it were unpardonable if one did not try to
parget-up the outward man as long as possible, you people
need to think of other things, which are more important and
profitable."
"Yet there are occasions," said the Major, "when a man
feels fresh internally, and could wish, with all his heart, that
he were fresh externally too."
As the stranger could not have the slightest suspicion of
the Major's real state of mind, he took these words in a
soldierly sense; and copiously explained how much depended
on externals in the art military, and how the officer, who had
so much attention to bestow on dress, might apply a little also
to skin and hair.
"For example," continued he, "it is indubitable that your
temples are already grey, that wrinkles are here and there
gathering together, and that your crown threatens to grow
bald. Now look at me, old fellow as I am! See how I have
held out! And all this without witchcraft; and with far less
pains and care than others take, day after day, in spoiling, or
at least wearying themselves."
The Major found this accidental conversation too precious
an affair to think of ending it soon; but he went to work
softly, and with precaution towards even an old acquaintance.
"This opportunity, alas, I have lost," cried he; "and it is
past recalling now: I must even content myself as I am, and
you will not think worse of me on that account."
"Lost it is not," said the other, "were not you grave
gentlemen so stiff and stubborn; did you not directly call one
vain, if he thinks about his person, and cast away from you
the happiness of being in pleasant company, and pleasing
there yourselves."
"If it is not magic," smiled the Major, "that you people
use for keeping yourselves young, it is at all events a secret;
or at least you have m'cana, such as one often sees be praised
in newspapers, and from these you pick out the best."
"Joke or earnest," said the other, " thou hast spoken truth.
Among the many things that have been tried for giving some
repair to the exterior, which often fails far sooner than the
interior, there are, in fact, certain invaluable recipes, simple as
well as compound; which, as imparted to me by brethren of
the craft, purchased for ready money, or hit upon by chance, I
have proved and found effectual. By these I now hold fast
and persevere, yet without abandoning my farther researches.
So much I may tell thee, and without exaggeration: A
dressing-box I carry with me beyond all price! A box, whose
influences I could like to try on thee, if we chanced any time
to be a fortnight together."
The thought that such a thing was possible, and that this
possibility was held out to him so accidentally at the very
moment of need, enlivened the spirit of the Major to such a
degree, that he actually appeared much fresher and brisker
already: at table, excited by the hope of bringing head and
face into harmony with his heart, and by eagerness to get
acquainted with the methods of doing so, he was quite another
man; he met Hilaria's graceful attentions with alacrity of
soul, and even looked at her with a certain confidence, which
in the morning he was far from feeling.
If the dramatic stranger had contrived, by many recollections,
stories and happy hits, to keep up the cheerful humour
once excited, he so much the more alarmed the Major, on
signifying, when the cloth was removed, that he must now
think of setting forth and continuing his journey. By
every scheme in his power, the Major strove to facilitate
his friend's stay, at least for the night; he pressingly engaged
to have horses and relays in readiness next morning; in a
word, the healing toilette was absolutely not to get out of the
premises, till once he had obtained more light on its contents
and use.
The Major saw very well that here no time must be lost;
he accordingly endeavoured, soon after dinner, to take his old
favourite aside, and speak with him in private. Not having
the heart to proceed directly to the point, he steered towards
it afar off; and, taking up the former conversation, signified:
That he, for his part, would willingly bestow more care on his
exterior, were it not that people, the moment they observed
a man making such an attempt, marked him down for vain;
and so deducted from him in regard to moral esteem, what
they felt obliged to yield him in regard to sensible.
"Do not vex me with such phrases!" said his friend:
"these are words to which society has got accustomed, without
attaching any meaning to them; or if we take it up more
strictly, by which it indicates its unfriendly and spiteful
nature. If thou consider it rightly, what, after all, is this
same vanity they make so much ado about? Every man
should feel some pleasure in himself, and happy he who feels
it. But if he does feel it, how can he help letting others
notice it? How shall he hide, in the midst of life, that it
gives him joy to be alive? If good society, and I mean this
exclusively here, only blamed such indications when they
became too violent; when the joy of one man over his existence
hindered others to have joy and to show it over theirs, it
were good and well; and from this excess the censure has, in
fact, originally sprung. But what are we to make of that
strange, prim, abnegating rigour against a thing which cannot
be avoided? Why should not a display of feeling on the part
of others be considered innocent and tolerable, which, more
or less, we from time to time allow ourselves? For it is the
pleasure one has in himself, the desire to communicate this
consciousness of his to others, that makes a man agreeable;
the feeling of his own grace that makes him graceful. Would
to Heaven all men were vain! that is, were vain with clear
perception, with moderation and in a proper sense; we should
then, in the cultivated world, have happy times of it. Women,
it is told us, are vain from the very cradle; yet does it not
become them, do they not please us the more? How can a
youth form himself, if he is not vain? An empty, hollow
nature, will, by this means, at least contrive to give itself an
outward show; and a proper man will soon train himself from
the outside inwards. As to my own share, I have reason to
consider myself in this point a most happy man; for my
trade justifies me in being vain; and the vainer I am, the
more satisfaction I give. I am praised when others are
blamed; and have still, in this very way, the happiness and
the right to gratify and charm the public at an age when
others are constrained to retire from the scene, or linger on it
only with disgrace."
The Major heard with no great joy the issue of these reflections.
The little word vanity, as he pronounced it, had been
meant to serve as a transition, for enabling him to introduce
with some propriety the statement of his own wish. But now
he was afraid, if their dialogue proceeded thus, he should be
led still farther from his aim; so he hastened to the point
directly.
"For my own part," said he, "I should by no means
disincline to enlist under thy flag, since thou still holdest it to
be in time, and thinkest I might yet in some degree make up
for what is lost. Impart to me somewhat of thy tinctures,
pomades, and balsams; and I will make a trial of them."
"Imparting," said the other, "is a harder task than you
suppose. Here, for example, it were still to small purpose
that I poured thee out some liquors from my phials, and left
the half of the best ingredients in my toilette: the appliance
is the hardest. You cannot, on the instant, appropriate what
is given you: how this and that suit together, under what
circul1lstances, in what sequence things are to be used; all this
requires practice and study; nay, study and practice themselves
will scarcely profit, if one bring not to the business a
natural genius for it."
"Thou art now, it seems, for drawing back," said the Major.
"Thou raisest difficulties when I would have thy truly somewhat
fabulous assertions rendered certain. Thou hast no mind
to let me try thy words by the test of action."
"By such banterings, my friend," replied the other, "thou
wouldst not prevail on me to gratify thy wish; if it were not
that I entertain such affection for thee, and indeed first made
the proposal myself. Besides, if we consider it, man has quite
a peculiar pleasure in making Proselytes; in bringing what
he values in himself into view also without himself on others;
causing others to enjoy what he enjoys; finding in others his
own likeness, represented and reflected back to him. In sooth,
if this is selfishness, it is of the most laudable and lovable
sort, that selfishness which has made us men and keeps us so.
From this universal feeling, then, apart from my friendship to
thee, I shall be happy in having such a scholar in the great
youth-renewing art. But, as from a master it may be expected
that he shall produce no botcher by his training, I confess
myself a little at a loss how to set about it. I told thee
already that neither recipes nor instructions would avail; the
practice cannot be taught by universal rules. For thy sake,
and from the wish to propagate my doctrine, I am ready to
make any sacrifice. The greatest in my power for the present
moment I will now propose to thee. I shall leave my servant
here; a sort of waiting-man and conjuror, who, if he does
not understand preparing everything, if he has not yet been
initiated into all the mysteries, can apply my preparations
perfectly; and in the first stage of the attempt will be of
great use to thee, till once thou have worked thy way so
far into the art, that I may reveal to thee the higher secrets
also."
"How!" cried the Major; "thou hast stages and degrees
in thy art of making young? Thou hast secrets even for the
initiated? "
"No doubt of it !" replied the other. "That were but
a sorry art which could be comprehended all at once; the
last point of which could be seen by one just entering its
precincts. "
Without loss of time, the waiting-man was formally consigned
to the Major, who engaged to treat him handsomely.
The Baroness was called on for drawers, boxes, glasses, to
what purpose she knew not: the petition of the toilette store
went forward; the friends kept together in a gay and sprightly
mood till after nightfall. At moonrise, some time later, the
guest took his leave, promising ere long to return.
The Major reached his chamber pretty much fatigued. He
had risen early, had not spared himself throughout the day,
and now hoped very soon to get to bed. But here instead of
one servant, he found two. The old groom, in his old way,
rapidly undressed him; but now the waiting-man stept forth
and signified, that for appliances of a renovating and cosmetic
nature, the peculiar season was night; that so their effects,
assisted by a peaceful sleep, might be stronger and safer. The
Major was obliged to content himself, and let his head be
anointed, his face painted, his eyebrows pencilled, and his lips
tipt with salve. Besides all this, there were various ceremonies
still required; nay, the very nightcap was not to be put on
immediately, not till a net, or even a fine leather cap, had
been drawn on next the head.
The Major laid himself in bed with a sort of unpleasant
feeling; which, however, he had no time to investigate the
nature of, as he very soon fell asleep. But if we might speak
with his spirit, we should say he felt himself a little mummy-like,
somewhat between a sick man and a man embalmed.
Yet the sweet image of Hilaria, encircled with the gayest
hopes, soon led him into a refreshing sleep.
In the morning, at the proper hour, the groom was ready
in his place. All that pertained to his master's equipment lay
in wonted order on the chairs; and the Major was just on
the point of rising, when the new attendant entered, and
strongly protested against any such precipitation. He must
rest, he must wait, if their enterprise was to prosper, if they
were to be rewarded for their pains and labour. The Major
now learned that he had to rise by and by, to take a slight
breakfast, and then go into a bath, which was already prepared
for him. The regulations were inflexible; they required
a strict observance; and some hours passed away under these
occupations.
The Major abridged the resting-time after his bath, and
thought to get his clothes about him; for he was by nature
expeditious, and at present he longed to see Hilaria: but
in this point also his new servant thwarted him; and signified,
that in all cases he must drop the thought of being in a
hurry. Whatever he did, it appeared, must be done leisurely
and pleasurably; but the time of dressing was especially
to be considered as a cheerful hour for conversation with
oneself.
The valet's manner of proceeding completely agreed with
his words. But, in return, the Major, when, on stepping
forward to the glass, he saw himself trimmed out in the
neatest fashion, really thought that he was better dressed
than formerly. Without many words, the conjuror had changed
the very uniform into a newer cut, having spent the night in
working at it. An apparently so quick rejuvenescence put
the Major in his liveliest mood; so that he felt himself as if
renovated both without and within, and hastened with impatient
longing to his friends.
He found his sister engaged in looking at the pedigree,
which she had caused to be hung up; the conversation last
night having turned on some collateral relations, unmarried
persons, or resident in foreign countries, or entirely gone out
of sight, from all of whom the Baroness and her brother had
more or less hope of heritages for themselves or their families.
They conversed a while on these matters, without mentioning
the circumstance that all their economical cares and
exertions had hitherto been solely directed to their children.
By Hilaria's attachment the whole of this prospect had altered;
yet neither the Major nor his sister could summon courage to
mention it farther, at this moment.
The Baroness left the room; the Major was standing alone
before this laconic history of his family; Hilaria stept in to
him; she leant herself on him in a kind child-like way, looked
at the parchment, and asked him whom of all these he had
known, and who of them were still left and living.
The Major began his delineation with the oldest, of whom
any dim recollection remained with him from childhood.
Then he proceeded farther; painted the characters of several
fathers, the likeness or unlikeness of their children to them;
remarked that the grandfather often reappeared in the grandson;
spoke, by the way, of the influence of certain women,
wedded out of stranger families, and sometimes changing the
character of whole branches. He eulogised the virtue of many
an ancestor and relative, nor did he hide their failings. Such
as had brought shame on their lineage he passed in silence.
At length he reached the lowest lines. Here stood his brother,
the Chief-Marshal, himself, and his sister, and beneath him his
son, with Hilaria at his side.
"These two look each other straight enough in the face,"
said the Major; not adding what he thought of the matter in
his heart.
After a pause Hilaria answered, in a meek small tone, and
almost with a sigh: "Yet those, surely, are not to blame who
look upwards." At the same time she looked up to him with
a pair of eyes, out of which her whole love was speaking.
"Do I understand thee rightly?" said the Major, turning
round to her.
"I can say nothing," answered she, with a smile, "which
you do not know already."
"Thou makest me the happiest man under the sun," cried
he, and fell at her feet. "Wilt thou be mine?"
"For Heaven's sake rise! I am thine forever."
The Baroness entered. Though not surprised, she rather
hesitated. "If it be wrong, sister," said the Major, "the
blame is thine: if it be right, we will thank thee forever."
The Baroness from youth upwards had so loved her brother,
that she preferred him to all men; and perhaps Hilaria's
attachment itself had, if not arisen from this sisterly partiality,
at least been cherished by it. All three now united in one
love, in one delight; and thus the happiest hours flew over
them. Yet at last their eyes reopened to the world around
them likewise; and this rarely stands in unison with such
emotions.
They now again bethought them of the son. For him
Hilaria had been destined; this he himself well knew.
Directly after finishing the business with the Chief-Marshal,
the Major had appointed his son to expect him in the
garrison, that they might settle everything together, and
conduct these purposes to a happy issue. But now, by an
unexpected occurrence, the whole state of matters had been
thrown out of joint; the circumstances which before plied
into one another so kindly, now seemed to be assuming a
hostile aspect; and it was not easy to foresee what turn the
affair would take, what temper would seize the individuals
concerned in it.
Meanwhile the Major was obliged to resolve on visiting
his son, to whom he had already announced himself. Not
without reluctance, not without singular forecastings, not
without pain at even for a short time leaving Hilaria, he at
last, after much lingering, took the road; and leaving groom
and horses behind him, proceeded with his cosmetic valet,
who had now become an indispensable appendage, towards
the town where his son resided.
Both saluted and embraced each other cordially, after so
long a separation. They had much to communicate; yet
they did not just commence with what lay nearest their
hearts. The son went into copious talk about his hopes of
speedy advancement; in return for which, the father gave
him precise accounts of what had been discussed and determined
between the elder members of the family, both in regard
to fortune in general, to the individual estates, and everything
pertaining to them.
The conversation was in some degree beginning to flag,
when the son took heart, and said to his father, with a smile:
"You treat me very tenderly, dear father, and I thank you
for it. You tell me of properties and fortune, and mention
not the terms under which, at least in part, they are to be
mine: you keep back the name of Hilaria; you expect that
I should bring it forth, that I should express my desire to be
speedily united with that amiable maiden."
At these words the Major felt himself in great perplexity;
but as, partly by nature, partly by old habit, it was his way
to collect the purpose of the man he had to treat with before
stating his own, he now said nothing, and looked at the son
with an ambiguous smile. "You will not guess, father, what
I have to say," continued the Lieutenant; "I will speak it
out briefly, and once for all. I can depend on your affection,
which, amid such manifold care for me, has doubtless an eye
to my true happiness as well as my fortune. Some time or
other it must be said; be it said then even now; Hilaria
cannot make me happy! I think of Hilaria as of a lovely
relative, towards whom I would live all my days with the
friendliest feelings; but another has awakened my affection,
another has bound my heart. The attachment is irresistible;
you will not make me miserable."
Not without effort did the Major conceal the cheerfulness
which was rising over his face; and in a tone of mild seriousness
inquire of the son: Who the person was that had so
entirely subdued him ?-" You must see her yourself, father,"
said the other; "for she can as little be described as comprehended.
I have but one fear,-that you yourself will
be led away by her, like everyone that approaches her. By
Heaven, it will be so; and I shall see you the rival of your
son! "
"But who is she, then?" inquired the Major. "If it is
not in thy power to delineate her personal characteristics,
tell me at least of her outward circumstances; these at least
may be described."
"Well, then, father," replied the son: "and yet these
outward circumstances too would be different in a different
person, would act otherwise on another. She is a young
widow, heiress of an old rich man lately deceased; independent,
and well meriting to be so; acquainted with many,
loved by just as many, courted by just as many; yet, if I
mistake not very greatly, in her heart wholly mine."
With joyful vivacity, as the father kept silence, and gave
no sign of disapproval, the son proceeded to describe the
conduct of the fair widow towards him; told of her all-conquering grace; recounted one by one her tender expressions
of favour; in which the father truly could see nothing
but the light friendliness of a universally-courted woman, who
among so many may indeed prefer some one, yet without on
that account entirely deciding for him. Under any other
circumstances he would doubtless have endeavoured to warn a
son, nay, even a friend, of the self-deception which might
probably enough be at work here: but in the present case he
himself was so anxious for his son's being right, for the fair
widow's really loving him, and as soon as possible deciding
in his favour, that he either felt no scruple of this sort,
or banished any such from his mind, perhaps even only
concealed it.
"Thou placest me in great perplexity," began the father,
after some pause. "The whole arrangement between the
surviving members of our family depends on the understanding
that thou wed Hilaria. If she wed a stranger, the
whole fair, careful combination of a fine fortune falls to the
ground again, and thou thyself art not too well provided for.
There is certainly another way still, but one which sounds
rather strange, and by which thou wouldst gain very little:
I, in my old days, might wed Hilaria; a plan which could
hardly give thee any very high satisfaction."
"The highest in the world!" exclaimed the Lieutenant:
"for who can feel a true attachment, who can enjoy or anticipate
the happiness of love, without wishing every friend,
every one whom he values, the like supreme felicity! You
are not old, father; and how lovely is Hilaria! Even the
transient thought of offering her your hand bespeaks a
youthful heart, an unimpaired spirit. Let us take up this
thought, this project, on the spot, and consider and investigate
it thoroughly. My own happiness would be complete,
if I knew you happy: I could then rejoice in good earnest,
that the care you had bestowed on my destiny was repaid on
your own by so fair and high a recompense. I can now with
confidence and frankness, and true openness of heart, conduct
you to my fair one. You will approve of my feelings, since
you yourself feel: you will not impede the happiness of your
son, since you are advancing to your own happiness."
With these, and other importunate words, the Lieutenant
repressed many a scruple which his father was for introducing;
left him no time to calculate, but hurried off with him to the
fair widow: whom they found in a commodious and splendid
house, with a select rather than numerous party, all engaged
in cheerful conversation. She was one of those female souls
whom no man can escape. With incredible address she contrived
to make our Major the hero of this evening. The rest
of the party seemed to be her family; the Major alone was
her guest. His circumstances she already knew very well;
yet she had the" skill to ask about them, as if she were wishing,
now at last, to get right information on the subject from himself;
and so, likewise, every individual of the company was
made to show some interest in the stranger. One must have
known his brother, a second his estates, a third something
else concerned with him; so that the Major, in the midst of
a lively conversation, still felt himself to be the centre. Moreover,
he was sitting next the fair one; her eyes were on him,
her smile was directed to him; in a word, he felt himself so
comfortable, that he almost forgot the cause which had
brought him. She herself scarcely ever mentioned his son,
though the young man took a keen share in the conversation:
it seemed as if in her eyes, he, like all the rest, was present
only on his father's account.
The guests strolled up and down the rooms, and grouped
themselves into accidental knots. The Lieutenant stept up
to his fair one, and asked: "What say you to my father?"
With a smile she replied: "Methinks you might well take
him as a pattern. Do but look how neatly he is dressed!
If his manner and bearing are not better than his gentle
son's!" And thus she continued to cry up and praise the
father at the son's expense; awakening, by this means, a very
mixed feeling of contentment and jealousy in the young man's
heart.
Ere long the Lieutenant came in contact with his father,
and recounted all this to him. It made the Major's manner
to his fair hostess so much the more friendly; and she, on her
side, began to treat him on a more lively and trustful footing.
In short, we may say that, when the company broke up, the
Major, as well as the rest, already belonged to her, and to her
circle.
A heavy rain prevented the guests from returning home as
they had come. Some coaches drove up, into which the
walkers arranged themselves; only the Lieutenant, under the
pretext that the carriage was already too crowded, let his
father drive away, and stayed behind.
The Major, on entering his apartment, felt actually confused
and giddy in mind; uncertain of himself; as is the case with
us, on passing rapidly from one state to the opposite. The
land still seems in motion to a man who steps from shipboard;
and the light still quivers in the eye of him who comes at once
into darkness. So did the Major still feel himself encircled
with the presence of that fair being. He wished still to
see, to hear her, again to see, again to hear her; and after
some consideration he forgave his son; nay, he thought him
happy that he might pretend to the appropriation of such
loveliness.
From these feelings he was roused by the Lieutenant, who,
with lively expressions of rapture, rushed into the room;
embraced his father, and exclaimed: "I am the happiest man
in the world!" After several more of such preliminary phrases,
the two at last came to an explanation. The father remarked,
that the fair lady in conversing with him had not mentioned
the son, or hinted at him by a single syllable.-" That is just
her soft, silent, half-concealing, half-discovering way; by
which you become certain of your wishes, and yet can never
altogether get rid of doubt. So was she wont to treat me
hitherto; but your presence, father, has done wonders. I
confess it, I stayed behind, that I might see her one moment
longer. I found her walking to and fro in her still shining
rooms: for I know it is her custom, when the company is gone,
no light must be extinguished. She walks alone up and down
in her magic halls, when the spirits are dismissed which she
had summoned thither. She accepted the pretext, under
cover of which I came back. She spoke with kind grace,
though of indifferent matters. We walked to and fro through
the open doors, along the whole suite of chambers. We had
wandered several times to the end, into the little cabinet,
which is lighted only by a dim lamp. If she was beautiful
while moving under the blaze of the lustres, she was infinitely
more so when illuminated by the soft gleam of the lamp.
We had again reached the cabinet; and, in turning, we
paused for an instant. I know not what it was that forced this
audacity on me; I know not how I could venture, in the midst
of the most ordinary conversation, all at once to seize her hand,
to kiss that soft hand, and to press it to my heart. It was not
drawn away. 'Heavenly creature!' cried I, 'conceal thyself
no longer from me. If in this fair heart dwells favour for
the happy man who stands before thee, disclose it, confess it !
The present is the best, the highest time. Banish me, or take
me to thy arms!'
"I know not what all I said, what I looked and expressed.
She withdrew not, she resisted not, she answered not. I ventured
to clasp her in my arms, to ask her if she would be mine.
I kissed her with rapture; she pushed me away: ' Well, yes,
then; yes!' or some such words, said she, in a faint tone, as if
embarrassed. I retired, and cried, , I will send my father; he
shall speak for me.' 'Not a word to him of this!' replied
she, following me some steps. 'Go away; forget what has
happened.' "
What the Major thought, we shall not attempt to unfold.
He said, however, to his son: "What is to be done now,
thinkest thou? To my mind, the affair is, by accident, so
well introduced, that we may now go to work a little more
formally; that perhaps it were well if I called there tomorrow,
and proposed in thy name."
"For Heaven's sake, no, father! " cried the son: "it would
spoil the whole business. That look, that tone, must be disturbed
and deranged by no formality. It is enough, father,
that your presence accelerates this union, without your uttering
a word on the subject. Yes, it is to you that I owe my
happiness! The respect which my loved one entertains for
you has conquered every scruple; and never would your son
have found so good a moment, had not his father prepared it
for him!"
These and such disclosures occupied them till far in the
night. They mutually settled their plans: the Major, simply
for form's sake, was to make a parting call, and then set out
to arrange his marriage with Hilaria; the son was to forward
and accelerate his, as he should find it possible.
Hersilia's Postscript
Here I break off, partly because I can write no more at
present, but partly also to fix a thorn in your heart. Now,
answer the question for yourself: How strangely from all
that you have read, must matters stand with these ladies at
present! Till now, they had no mutual relation to each
other; they were strangers, though each seemed to have the
prospect of a marriage which was to approximate them. And
now we find them in company, but by themselves, without
male attendance, and wandering over the world. What can
have passed, what can be to follow? You, my worthy sir,
will doubtless get quit of the difficulty, by mournfully
exclaiming to yourself: "These, also, are Renunciants!"
And here you are perfectly right: but Expectants too?
This I durst not discover, even if I knew it.
To show you the way how this amiable pair may be met
with on your wandering, I adopt a singular expedient. You
herewith receive a little clipping of a map: when you lay
this in its place on the full map of the country, the magnetic
needle painted here will point with its barb to the spot
whither the Desirable are moving. This riddle is not so very
hard to read: but I could wish that, from time to time, you
would do the like for us, and send a little snip of chart over
hither; we should then, in some measure, understand to what
quarter our thoughts were to be directed; and how glad should
we be, if the needle were at last attracted by ourselves. May
all good be given you, and all errors forgiven!
It is said of women, that they cannot send away a letter
without tacking postscripts to the end of it. Whatever
inferences you may draw from the fact, I cannot deny that
this is my second postscript, and the place, after all, where
I am to tell you the flower of the whole matter. This arrow-shaft,
on the little patch of map, Hilaria herself was at the
pains to draw, and to decorate with such dainty plumage:
the sharp point, however, was the fair Widow's work. Have
a care that it do not scratch, or perhaps pierce you. Our
bargain is, that whenever you meet, be this where it may, you
are forthwith to present the small shred of paper, and so be
the sooner and more heartily admitted into trust.
That a certain deficiency, perhaps discernible in the parts,
certainly discernible here and there in the whole, cannot henceforth
be avoided, we ourselves take courage to forewarn the
reader, without fearing thereby to thwart his enjoyment. In
the present task, undertaken truly with forethought and good
heart, we still meet with all the inconveniences which have
delayed the publication of these little volumes for twenty
years. This period has altered nothing for the better. We
still find ourselves in more than one way impeded; at this or
that place, threatened with one obstruction or another. For
we have to solve the uncertain problem of selecting from
those most multifarious papers, what is worthiest and most
important, so that it be grateful to thinking and cultivated
minds, and refresh and forward them in many a province of
life. Now here are the Journals, more or less complete, lying
before us; sometimes communicable without scruple; sometimes,
again, by reason of their unimportant, and likewise of
their too important contents, seemingly unfit for insertion.
There are not even wanting sections devoted to the actual
world; on statistic, technical and other practical external subjects.
To cut these off' as incongruous, we do not determine
without reluctance; as life and inclination, knowledge and
passion, strangely combining together, go on here in the
straitest union.
Then we come on sketches written with clear views and
for glorious objects; but not so consequent and deep-searching,
that we can fully approve of them, or suppose that, in
this new and so far advanced time, they could be readable and
influential.
So likewise we fall in with little anecdotes, destitute of connexion,
difficult to arrange under heads; some of them, when
closely examined, not altogether unobjectionable, Here and
there we discover more complete narratives, several of which,
though already known to the world, nevertheless demand a
place here, and at the same time require exposition and conclusion.
Of poems, also, there is no want; and yet it is not
always easy, not always possible, to decide where they should
be introduced, with best regard to the preserving and assisting
of their true tone, which is but too easily disturbed and overturned.
If we are not, therefore, as we have too often done in
bygone years, again to stop in the middle of this business,
nothing will remain for us but to impart what we possess, to
give out what has been preserved. Some Chapters, accordingly,
the completion of which might have been desirable,
we now offer in their first hurried form; that so the reader
may not only feel the existence of a want here, but also be
informed what this want is, and complete in his own mind
whatever, partly from the nature of the object, partly from
the intervening circumstances, cannot be presented to him
perfectly completed in itself, or furnished with all its requisite
accompaniments.

CHAPTER 13

THE proposed riddle raised some scruples in Wilhelm's
mind; yet ere long he began to feel a still attraction in the
matter, an impulse of longing to reach that appointed line,
and follow its direction; as, indeed, we are wont to seize with
eagerness any specific object, that excites our imagination, our
active faculties, and to wish that we might accomplish it and
partake of it.
A child that, in asking alms of us, puts into our hand a
card with five Lottery Numbers written on it, we do not lightly
turn away unserved; and it depends on the moment, especially
if it be shortly before the drawing, whether we shall not, with
accidentally stimulated hope, quite against our usual custom,
stake heavy shares upon these very numbers.
The wanderer now tried on a large Map the little fragment
which had been sent him; and stood surprised, amazed,
affrighted, as he saw the needle pointing straight to Mignon's
native place, to the houses where she had lived. What his
peculiar feelings were, we do not find declared; but whoever
can bring back to memory the end of the Apprenticeship, will
in his own heart and mind, without difficulty, call forth the
like.
The chief cause, however, why we meet with scantier records
of this excursion than we could have wished, may probably be
this: that Wilhelm chanced to fall in with a young lively
companion of his journey, by means of whom it became easy
to retain for himself and his friends a vivid and strong remembrance
of this pious pilgrimage, without any aid of writing.
Unexpectedly he finds himself beside a Painter; one of that
class of persons whom we often see wandering about the world,
and still oftener figuring in Romances and Dramas; but in
this caie, an individual who showed himself at once to be
really a distinguished artist. The two very soon got acquainted; mutually communicated their desires, projects,
purposes. And now it appears that this skilful artist, who
delights in painting aquatic landscapes, and can decorate his
pieces with rich, well-imagined, well-executed additions and
accompaniments, has been passionately attracted by Mignon's
form, destiny, and being. He has often painted her already,
and is now going forth to copy from nature the scenes where
she passed her early years; amid these to represent the dear
child, in happy and unhappy circumstances and moments, and
thus to make her image, which lives in all tender hearts,
present also to the sense of the eye.
The friends soon reach the Lago Maggiore; Wilhelm
endeavours, by degrees, to find out the places indicated.
Rural palaces, spacious monasteries, ferries and bays, capes
and landings, are visited; nor are the dwellings of courageous
and kind-hearted fishermen forgotten; or the cheerfully-built
villages along the shore, or the gay mansions on the neighbouring
heights. All this the Artist can seize; to all of it
communicate, by light and colouring, the feeling suitable for
each scene; so that Wilhelm passes his days and his hours in
heart-searching emotion.
In several of the leaves stood Mignon represented on the
foreground, as she had looked and lived; Wilhelm, striving by
correct description, to assist the happy imagination of his
friend, and reduce these general conceptions within the stricter
limits of individuality.
And thus you might see the Boy-girl, set forth in various
attitudes and manifold expression. Beneath the lofty portal
of the splendid Country-house, she is standing, thoughtfully
contemplating the Marble Statues in the Hall. Here she
rocks herself, plashing to and fro among the waters, in the
fastened boat; there she climbs the mast, and shows herself as
a fearless sailor.
But, distinguished beyond all the other pictures, was one
which the Artist, on his journey hither, and prior to his
meeting with Wilhelm, had combined and painted with all its
characteristic features. In the heart of the rude Mountains
shines the graceful seeming-boy, encircled with toppling cliffs,
besprayed with cataracts, in the middle of a motley horde.
Never, perhaps, was a grim, precipitous, primeval mountain-pass
more beautifully or expressively relieved with living
figures. The particoloured, gipsy-looking group, at once rude
and fantastic, strange and common, too loose to cause fear, too
singular to awaken confidence. Stout beasts of burden are
bearing along, now over paths made of trees, now down by
steps. hewn in the rock, a tawdry chaotic heap of luggage,
round which all the instruments of a deafening music hang
dangling to and fro, to affright the ear from time to time with
rude tones. Amid all this, the lovely child, self-collected
without defiance, indignant without resistance, led but not
dragged. Who would not have looked with pleasure at this
singular and impressive picture? Given in strong characters,
frowned the stern obstruction of these rock masses, riven
asunder by gloomy chasms, towered up together, threatening
to hinder all outgate, had not a bold bridge betokened the
possibility of again coming into union with the rest of the
world. Nor had the Artist, with his quick feeling of fictitious
truth, forgot to indicate the entrance of a Cave, which you
might equally regard as the natural laboratory of huge crystals,
or as the abode of a fabulously frightful brood of Dragons.
Not without a holy fear did our friends visit the Marchese's
palace. The old man was still absent on his travels; but in
this circle also, the two wanderers, knowing well how to apply
and conduct themselves both towards spiritual and temporal
authorities, were kindly received and entertained.
The absence of the owner also was to Wilhelm very pleasant;
for although he could have wished to see the worthy gentleman,
and would have heartily saluted him, he felt afraid of
the Marchese's thankful generosity, and of any forced recompense
of that true loving conduct, for which he had already
obtained the fairest reward.
And thus our friends went floating in gay boats from shore
to shore, cruising the Lake in every direction. It was the
fairest season of the year; and they missed neither sunrise nor
sunset, nor any of the thousand shadings which the heavenly
light first bounteously dispenses over its own firmament, and
from thence over lake and land; not appearing itself in its
perfect glory, till imaged back from the waters.
A luxuriant vegetable world, planted by Nature, watched
over and forwarded by Art, on every side surrounded them.
The first chestnut forests they had already greeted with
welcome; and now they could not restrain a mournful smile,
as, lying under the shade of cypresses, they saw the laurel
mounting up; the pomegranates reddening; orange and lemon
trees unfolding themselves in blossoms, and fruit at the same
time glowing forth from the leafy gloom.
Through means of his vivid associate, Wilhelm had another
enjoyment prepared for him. Our old friend had not been
favoured by Nature with the eye of a painter. Susceptible of
visual beauty only in the human form, he now felt that, by the
presence of a companion, alike disposed, but trained to quite
different enjoyments and activities, the surrounding world also
was opened to his sight.
By viewing, under conversational direction, the changing
glories of the region, and still more by concentrated imitation,
his eyes were opened, and his mind freed from all its once
obstinate doubts. Hitherto all copies of Italian scenery had
seemed to him suspicious; the sky, he thought, was too blue;
the violet tone of those charming distances was lovely but
untrue, and the abundant fresh green too bright and gay: but
now he united in his inmost perceptions with his new friend;
and learned, susceptible as he was, to look at the Earth with
that friend's eyes; and while Nature unfolded the open secret
of her beauty, he could not but feel an irresistible attraction
towards Art, as towards her most fit expositor.
But his pictorial friend quite unexpectedly anticipated his
wishes in another point. The Artist had already many times
started some gay song; and thus, in hours of rest, delightfully
enlivened and accompanied their movement, when out in long
voyages over the water. But now it happened, that in one of
the palaces they were visiting, he found a curious peculiar
stringed instrument; a lute of small size, strong, well-toned,
convenient, and portable: he soon contrived to tune it; and
then handled the strings so pleasantly, and so well entertained
those about him, that, like a new Orpheus, he subdued by soft
harmonies the usually rigorous and dry castellain, and kindly
constrained him to lend the instrument for a time; under the
condition that before departing, the singer should faithfully
return it; and in the interim, should come back some Sunday
or holyday, and again gratify them by his music.
Quite another spirit now enlivened lake and shore; boat
and skiff strove which should be nearest our friends; even
freight and market barges lingered in their neighbourhood;
rows of people on the beach followed their course; when
landing, they were encircled by a gay-minded throng; when
departing, each blessed them, with a heart contented, yet full
of longing.
And now, at last, to any third party who had watched our
friend, it must have been apparent enough that their mission
was, in fact, accomplished: all scenes and localities referring
to Mignon had been not only sketched, but partly brought
into light, shade and colour; partly, in warm, midday hours,
finished with the utmost fidelity. In effecting this, they had
shifted from place to place in a peculiar way, as Wilhelm's
vow frequently impeded them: this, however, they had now
and then contrived to evade, by explaining it as valid only
on land, and on water not applicable.
Indeed Wilhelm himself now felt that their special purpose
was attained; yet he could not deny that the wish to see
Hilaria and the fair Widow must also be satisfied, if he wished
to leave this country with a free mind. His friend, to whom
he had imparted their story, was no less curious; and already
prided himself in the thought that in one of his paintings
there was a vacant space, which, as an artist, he might decorate
with the forms of these gentle persons.
Accordingly, they now cruised to and fro, watching the
points where strangers are wont first to enter this paradise.
Their hope of meeting friends here had already been made
known to the boatmen; and the search had not lasted long,
when there came in sight a splendid barge; which they instantly
made chase of, and forbore not passionately to grapple
with, on reaching it. The dames, in some degree alarmed at
this movement, soon recovered their composure as Wilhelm
produced his little piece of chart, and the two, without
hesitation, recognised the arrow which themselves had drawn
on it. The friends were then kindly invited to come on
board the ladies' barge; which they did without an instant's
delay.
And now let us figure to ourselves these four; as they sit
together in the daintiest apartment, the most blissful world
lying round them; looking in each other's faces; fanned by
soft airs; rocked on glittering waves. Imagine the female
pair, as we lately saw them described; the male, as they have
together for weeks been leading a wayfaring life; and after a
little reflection, we behold them all in the most delightful, but
also the most dangerous situation.
For the three who have before, willingly or unwillingly,
ranked themselves in the number of Renunciants, we have
not the worst to fear; the fourth, however, may probably
enough too soon see himself admitted into that order, like
the others.
After crossing the Lake several times, and pointing out the
most interesting spots both on the shore and the islands, our
two wanderers conducted their fair friends to the place they
were to pass the night in; where a dextrous guide, selected
for this voyage, had taken care to provide all possible conveniences.
Wilhelm's vow was now a harsh but suitable
master of the ceremonies: for he and his companion had
already passed three days in this very station, and exhausted
all that was remarkable in the environs. The Artist, not
restrained by any vow, begged permission to attend the dames
on shore; this, however, they declined: and so the party
separated at some distance from the harbour.
Scarcely had the singer stept into his skiff, which hastily
drew back from the beach, when he seized his lute; and gracefully
began raising that strangely plaintive song, which the
Venetian gondoliers send forth in clear melody from land to
sea and from sea to land. Expert enough in this feat, which,
in the present instance, proceeded with peculiar tenderness
and expression, he strengthened his voice in proportion to the
increasing distance, so that on the shore you would have
thought you heard him still singing in the same place. He
at last laid his lute aside, trusting to his voice alone; and had
the satisfaction to observe that the dames, instead of retiring
into their house, were pleased to linger on the shore. He felt
so inspired that he could not cease; not even when night and
remoteness had withdrawn everything from view; till at last
his calmer friend reminded him that, if darkness did favour his
tones, the skiff had already long passed the limits within which
these could take effect.
According to promise, the two parties again met next day
on the open Lake. Flying along, they formed acquaintance
with the lovely series of prospects, now standing forth in
separate distinction, then gathering into rows, and seen behind
each other, and at last fading away, as the higher eclipsed the
lower; all which, repeating itself in the waters, affords in such
excursions the most varied entertainment. Nor, in the course
of these sights, did the copies of them, from our Artist's portfolio,
fail to awaken thoughts and anticipations of what, in
the present hour, was not imparted. For all such matters the
still Hilaria seemed to have a free and fair feeling.
But towards noon, singularity again came into play: the
ladies landed alone; the men cruised before the harbour. And
now the singer endeavoured to accommodate his music to a
shorter distance, where not only the general, soft and quickly
warbling tone of desire, but likewise a certain gay, graceful
importunity, might be expected to tell. And here, now and
then, some one or other of the songs, for which we stand
indebted to our friends in the Apprenticeship, would come
hovering over his strings, over his lips; but out of well-meant
regard to the feelings of his hearers, as well as to his own, he
restrained himself in this particular; and roved at large in
foreign images and emotions, whereby his performance gained
in effect, and reached the ear with so much the more insinuating
blandishment. The two friends, blockading the
harbour in this way, would not have recollected the trivial
concern of eating and drinking, had not the more provident
fair ones sent them over a supply of dainty bits, to which an
accompanying draught of wine had the best possible relish.
Every separation, every stipulation that comes in the way
of our gathering passions, sharpens instead of stifling them;
and in this case, as in others, it may be presumed that the
short absence had awakened equal longing in both parties.
At all events, the dames, in their gay dazzling gondola, were
very soon to be seen coming back.
This word gondola, however, let us not take up in the
melancholy Venetian meaning: here it signifies a cheerful,
commodious, social bark; which, had our little company
been twice as large, would still have been spacious enough
for them.
Some days were spent in this peculiar way, between meeting
and parting, between separation and social union; but amid
the enjoyment of the most delightful intercourse, departure
and bereavement still hovered before the agitated soul. In
presence of the new friends, the old came back into the mind;
were these new ones absent, each could not but admit that
already they had taken deep root in his remembrance. None
but a composed and tried spirit, like our fair Widow,
could in such moments have maintained herself in complete
equilibrium.
Hilaria's heart had been too deeply wounded to admit of
any new entire impression: but as the grace of a fair scene
encircles us of itself with soothing influences; so when the
mildness of tender-hearted friends conspires with it, there
comes over sense and soul a peculiar mood of softness, that
recalls to us, as in dreaming visions, the past and the absent,
and withdraws the present, as if it were but a show, into
spiritual remoteness. Thus, alternately rocked this way and
that, attracted and repelled, approximated and removed, they
wavered and wended for several days.
Without more narrowly investigating these circumstances,
the shrewd, experienced guide imagined he observed some
alteration in the calm demeanour of his heroines; and when,
at last, the whimsical part of their predicament became known
to him, he contrived here also to devise the most grateful
expedient. For as our two shipmen were again conducting
the ladies to their usual place of dinner, they were met by
another gay bark; which, falling alongside of theirs, exhibited
a well-covered table, with all the cheerful invitations of a festive
repast: the friends could now wait in company the lapse of
several hours; and only night decided the customary separation.
Happily the Artist and Wilhelm had in their former
voyagings neglected, out of a certain natural caprice, to visit
the most highly ornamented of all the islands, and had even
yet never thought of showing to their fair friends the many
artificial and somewhat dilapidated curiosities of the place,
before these glorious scenes of creation were entirely gone
through. At last, however, new light rose on their minds.
They took counsel with the guide: he contrived forthwith
to expedite their voyage, and all looked on it as the most
blissful they had yet undertaken. They could now hope and
expect, after so many interrupted joys, to spend three whole
heavenly days, assembled together in a sequestered abode..
And here we cannot but bestow on this guide our high
commendation; he belonged to that nimble, active, dextrous
class, who, in attendance on successive parties, often travel
the same roads; perfectly acquainted with the conveniences
and inconveniences on all of them, they understand how to
use the one and evade the other; and, without leaving their
own profit out of sight, still to conduct their patrons more
cheaply and pleasantly through the country, than without such
aid would have been possible.
At this time, also, a sufficient female train belonging to our
dames, for the first time stept forth in decided activity; and
the fair Widow could now make it one of her conditions that
the friends were to remain with her as guests, and content
themselves with what she called her moderate entertainment.
In this point too all prospered: for the cunning functionary
had, on this occasion as on others, contrived to make so good
a use of the letters and introductions which his heroines had
brought with them, that, the owner of the place they were
now about to visit being absent, both castle and garden,
kitchen included, were thrown open for the service of the
strangers; nay, some prospect was held out even of the cellar.
All things cooperated so harmoniously, that our wanderers,
from the very first moment, felt themselves as if at home, as if
born lords of this paradise.
The whole luggage of the party was now carried to the
island, an arrangement producing much convenience to all;
though the chief advantage aimed at was, that the portfolios
of our Artist, now, for the first time, all collected together,
might afford him means to exhibit, in continuous sequence, to
his fair hostesses the route he had followed. This task was
undertaken by all parties with delight. Not that they proceeded
in the common style of amateur and artist, mutually
eulogising: here was a gifted man, rewarded by the most
sincere and judicious praise. But that we fall not into the
suspicion of attempting, with general phrases, to palm on
credulous readers what we could not openly show them, let us
here insert the judgment of a critic, who some years afterwards
viewed with studious admiration both the pieces here
in question, and the others of a like or similar sort, by the
same hand:
"He succeeds in representing the cheerful repose of like
prospects, where houses in friendly approximation, imaging
themselves in the clear wave, seem as if bathing in its depths;
shores encircled with green hills, behind which rise forest
mountains, and icy peaks of glaciers. The tone of colouring
in such scenes is gay, mirthfully clear; the distances, as if
overflowed with softening vapour, which from watered hollows
and river valleys mounts up greyer and mistier, and indicates
their windings. No less is the Master's art to be praised in
views from valleys lying nearer the high Alpine ranges;
where declivities slope down, luxuriantly overgrown, and fresh
streams roll hastily along by the foot of rocks.
"With exquisite skill, in the deep shady trees of the foreground,
he gives the distinctive character of the several species;
satisfying us in the form of the whole, as in the structure of
the branches, and the details of the leaves: no less so, in the
fresh green with its manifold shadings, where soft airs appear
as if fanning us with benignant breath, and the lights as if
thereby put in motion.
"In the middle-ground, his lively green tone grows fainter
by degrees; and at last, on the more distant mountain-tops,
passing into weak violet, weds itself with the blue of the sky.
But our Artist is above all happy in his paintings of his
Alpine regions; in seizing the simple greatness and stillness of
their character; the wide pastures on the slopes, clothed with
the freshest green, where dark solitary firs stand forth from
the grassy carpet; and from high cliffs foaming brooks rush
down. Whether he relieve his pasturages with grazing cattle,
or the narrow winding rocky path with mules and laden packhorses,
he paints all with equal truth and richness; still
introduced in the proper place, and not in too great copiousness,
they decorate and enliven these scenes, without interrupting,
without lessening their peaceful solitude. The
execution testifies a master's hand; easy, with a few sure
strokes, and yet complete. In his later pieces, he employed
glittering English permanent-colours on paper: these pictures,
accordingly, are of preeminently blooming tone; cheerful, yet,
at the same time, strong and sated.
"His views of deep mountain chasms, where round and
round nothing fronts us but dead rock; where, in the abyss,
overspanned by its bold arch, the wild stream rages, are
indeed of less attraction than the former: yet their truth
excites us; we admire the great effect of the whole, produced
at so little cost, by a few expressive strokes, and masses of
local colours.
"With no less accuracy of character can he represent the
regions of the topmost Alpine ranges, where neither tree nor
shrub any more appears; but only, amid the rocky teeth and
snow summits, a few sunny spots clothe themselves with a soft
sward. Beautiful, and balmy, and inviting as he colours these
spots, he has here wisely forborne to introduce grazing herds;
for these regions give food only to the chamois, and a perilous
employment to the Wild-hay-men."
"We shall not deviate from our purpose of bringing the
condition of these waste scenes as dose as possible to the
conception of our readers, if to this word, Wild-hay-man, or
Wildheuer, we subjoin a short explanation. It is a name given
to the poorer inhabitants of the upland Alpine ranges, who
occupy themselves in making hay from such grassy spots as
are inaccessible to cattle. For this purpose, they climb, with
cramps on their feet, the steepest and most dangerous cliffs;
or from high crags let themselves down by ropes, when this is
necessary: and so reach these grassy patches. The grass once
cut and dried to hay, they throw it down from the heights
into the deeper valleys; where being collected together, it is
sold to cattle-owners, with whom, on account of its superior
quality, it finds a ready market."
These paintings, which must have gratified and attracted
any eye, were viewed by Hilaria, in particular, with great
attention; and from her observations it became clear, that in
this department she herself was no stranger. To the Artist,
least of all, did this continue secret; nor could approval from
anyone have been more precious to him, than from this most
graceful of all persons. Her companion, therefore, kept
silence no longer, but blamed Hilaria for not coming forward
with her own accomplishment, but lingering in this case as she
always did; now where the question was not, of being praised
or blamed, but of being instructed. A fairer opportunity, she
said, might not easily occur.
And now it came to light, when she was thus forced to
exhibit her portfolios, what a talent was lying hid behind this
still and most lovely nature: the capacity had been derived
from birth, and diligently cultivated by practice. She possessed
a true eye; a delicate hand, such as women, accustomed
to use it in their dressing and decorating operations, find
available in higher art. You might, doubtless, observe unsureness
in the strokes; and, in consequence, a too undecided
character in the objects: but you could not help admiring the
most faithful execution; though the whole was not seized in
its happiest effect, nor grouped and adj usted with the skill of
an artist. She is afraid, you would say, of profaning her
object, if she keep not completely true to it; hence she becomes
precise and stiff, and loses herself in details.
But now, by the great free talent, by the hold hand of the
Artist, she feels rising, awakening within her, whatever genuine
feeling and taste had till now slumbered in her mind; she
perceives that she has but to take heart, and earnestly and
punctually to follow some fundamental maxims, which the
Artist, with penetrating judgment and friendly importunity,
is repeating and impressing on her. That sureness of stroke
comes of its own accord; she by degrees dwells less on the
parts than on the whole: and thus the fairest capability rises
on a sudden to fulfilment; as a rose-bud, which in the evening
we passed-by unobservant, breaks forth in the morning at
sunrise before our face: and the living quivering movement of
this lordly blossom, struggling out to the light, seems almost
visible before our eyes.
Nor did this intellectual culture remain without moral
effects: for on a pure spirit it produces a magic impression to
be conscious of that heartfelt thankfulness, natural towards
anyone to whom it stands indebted for decisive instruction.
In this case it was the first glad emotion which had risen in
Hilaria's soul for many a week. To see this lordly world lying
round her day after day; and now at once to feel the instantly
acquired, more perfect gift of representing it! What delight,
in figures and tints, to be approaching nearer the Unspeakable!
She felt herself surprised as with a new youth; and could not
refuse a peculiar kindliness to the man who had procured for
her such happiness.
Thus did the two sit together; you could scarcely have
determined whether he was readier in communicating secret
advantages in art, or she in seizing them and turning them
to practice. The happiest rivalry, such as too seldom rises
between scholar and master, here took place. Many a time you
might observe the friend preparing with some decisive stroke
to influence her drawing; which she, on the other hand, would
gently decline, hastening to do the wished, the necessary, of
her own accord, and always to her master's astonishment.
The fair Widow, in the mean while, walked along the
terraces with Wilhelm, under cypresses and pines, now under
vine, now under orange groves; and at last could not but fulfil
the faintly indicated wish of her new friend, and disclose to him
the strange entanglement by which the two fair pilgrims, cut
off from their former ties, and straitly united to one another,
had been sent forth to wander over the world.
Wilhelm, who wanted not the gift of accurately noting
what he saw, took down her narrative sometime afterwards
in writing: this, as he compiled it and transmitted it by
Hersilia to Natalia, we purpose by and by communicating to
our readers.
The last evening was now come; and a rising, most clear,
full moon concealed the transition from day to night. The
party had assembled and seated themselves on one of the
highest terraces, to see distinct and unimpeded, and glittering
in the sheen of east and west, the peaceful Lake, hidden partly
in its length, but visible over all its breadth.
Whatever in such circumstances might be talked of, it was
natural once more to repeat the hundred times repeated; to
mention the beauties of this sky, of this water, of this land,
under the influences of a strong sun and milder moon, nay,
exclusively and lyrically to recognise and describe them.
But what none of them uttered, what each durst scarcely
avow to himself, was the deep mournful feeling which, stronger
or weaker, but with equal truth and tenderness, was beating
in every bosom. The presentiment of parting diffused itself
over present union; a gradual stagnation was becoming almost
painful.
Then at last the Singer roused himself, summoned up his
resolution; with strong tones, preluding on his instrument;
heedless of the former well-meant reserve. Mignon's figure,
with the first soft song of the gentle child, were hovering before
him. Passionately hurried over the limits; with longing
touch awakening the sweetly-sounding strings, he began to
raise:
Know'st thou the land where lemon-trees do bloom,
And oranges like gold - - - - -
Hilaria rose in deepest agitation, and hurried away, veiling
her face; our fair Widow, with a motion of refusal, waved her
hand towards the Singer, while she caught Wilhelm's arm with
the other. The perplexed and half-unconscious youth followed
Hilaria; Wilhelm, by his more considerate guide, was led after
them. And now when they stood all four under the high
moonshine, the general emotion was no longer to be concealed.
The women threw themselves into each other's arms; the men
-embraced each other; and Luna was witness of the noblest,
chastest tears. Some recollection slowly returned; they forced
themselves asunder, silent, under strange feelings and wishes,
from which hope was already cut off. And now our Artist,
whom his friend dragged with him, felt himself here under the
void heaven, in the solemn lovely hour of night, initiated in
the first stage of Renunciation, which those friends had already
passed through, though they now saw themselves again in
danger of being sharply tried.
Not till late had the young men gone to rest; awakening
in the early morning, they took heart; thought themselves
now strong enough for a farewell to this paradise; devised
many plans for still, without violation of duty, at least
lingering in the pleasant neighbourhood.
While purposing to introduce their projects to this effect,
they were cut short by intelligence that, with the earliest break
of day, the ladies had departed. A letter from the hand of
our Queen of Hearts gave them more precise information.
You might have doubted whether sense rather than goodness,
love rather than friendship, acknowledgment of merit rather
than soft bashful favour, was expressed in it. But alas, in
the conclusion stood the hard request, that our two wanderers
were neither to follow their heroines, nor anywhere to seek
them; nay, if they chanced to see each other, they were
faithfully to avoid meeting.
And now the paradise, as if by the touch of an enchanter's
rod, was changed for our friends into an utter desert: and
certainly they would have smiled at themselves, had they perceived
at this moment how unjust and unthankful they were
on a sudden become to so fair and remarkable a scene. No
self-seeking hypochondriac could so sharply and spitefully have
rated and censured the decay of the buildings, the neglected
condition of the walls, the weathered aspect of the towers, the
grassy obstruction of the walks, the perishing of the trees, the
mossiness and mouldering of the artificial grottoes, and whatever
else of that sort was to be observed, as our two travellers
now did. By degrees, however, they settled themselves as
circumstances would admit: the Artist carefully packed up his
work: they both set sail; Wilhelm accompanying him to the
upper quarter of the Lake, where by previous agreement, the
former set forth on his way to Natalia, to introduce her by his
fair landscape papers, into scenes which perhaps she might not
soon have an opportunity of viewing with her eyes. He was
at the same time commissioned to inform her confessionally
of the late incident, which had reduced him to a state such
that he might be received with hearty kindness by the Confederates
in the vow of Renunciation, and with soft friendly
treatment, in the midst of them, be comforted, if he could not
be healed.

CHAPTER 14

IN this division of our work, the exculpatory Word from
the Editor might have been more requisite than even in the
foregoing Chapter: for there, though we had not the paintings
of the master and his fair scholar, on which all depended, to
exhibit before our readers; and could neither make the perfection
of the finished artist, nor the commencing stintedness
nor rapid development of the art-loving beauty visible to their
eyes: yet still the description might not be altogether inefficient,
and many genial and thought-exalting matters remained
to be imparted. But here, where the business in hand is a
great object, which one could have wished to see treated in
the most precise manner, there is, unhappily, too little noted
down; and we cannot hope that a complete view will be
attained from our communications.
Again, it is to be observed, that in the Novel, as ill
Universal History, we have to struggle with uncertain computations
of time; and cannot always decisively fix what has
happened sooner, and what later. We shall hold, therefore,
by the surest points.
That a year must have passed since Wilhelm left the Pedagogic
Province, is rendered certain, by the circumstance, that
we now meet him at the Festival to which he had been invited:
but as our wandering Renunciants sometimes unexpectedly
dive down and vanish from our sight, and then again emerge
into view at a place where they were not looked for, it cannot
be determined with certainty what track they have followed in
the interim.
Now, however, the Traveller advances from the side of the
plain country into the Pedagogic Province: he comes over
fields and pasturages; skirts, on the dry lea, many a little
freshet; sees bushy rather than woody hills; a free prospect
on all sides, over a surface but little undulated. On such
tracks, he did not long doubt that he was in the horse-producing
region; and accordingly he failed not here and
there to observe greater or smaller herds of mares and foals.
But all at once the horizon darkens with a fierce cloud of
dust, which rapidly swelling nearer and nearer, covers all the
breadth of the space; yet at last, rent asunder by a sharp side
wind, is forced to disclose its interior tumult.
At full gallop rushes forward a vast multitude of these
noble animals, guided and held together by mounted keepers.
The monstrous hurlyburly whirls past the wanderer; a fair
boy among the keepers looks at him with surprise; pulls in,
leaps down, and embraces his father.
Now commences a questioning and answering; the boy
relates that an agricultural life had not agreed with him;
the harvest-home he had indeed found delightful, but the
subsequent arrangements, the ploughing and digging, by no
means so. This the Superiors remark, and observe at the
same time that he likes to employ himself with animals; they
direct him to the useful and necessary domestic breeds; try
him as a sequestered herdsman and keeper, and at last
promote him to the more lively equestrian occupation; where
accordingly he now, himself a young foal, has to watch over
foals, and to forward their good nourishment and training,
under the oversight of skilful comrades.
Father and son, following the herd, by various lone-lying
spacious farmyards, reached the town or hamlet, near which
the great annual Market was held. Here rages an incredible
confusion, in which it is hard to determine whether merchants
or wares raise more dust. From all countries purchasers
assemble here to procure animals of noble blood and careful
training; all the languages of the Earth, you would fancy,
meet your ear. Amid all this hubbub, too, rises the lively
sound of powerful wind-instruments: everything bespeaks
motion, vigour and life.
The Wanderer meets his Overseer of last year, who presents
him to the others: he is even introduced to one of the Three;
and by him, though only in passing, paternally and expressively
saluted.
Wilhelm, here again observing an example of exclusive
culture and life-leading, expresses a desire to know in what
else the pupils are practised, by way of counterpoise; that so
in this wild, and, to a certain degree, savage occupation of
feeding animals, the youth may not himself roughen into an
animal. And, in answer, he is gratified to learn, that precisely
with this violent and rugged-looking occupation the softest in
the world is united,-the learning and practising of languages.
"To this,'" it was said, "we have been induced by the
circumstance, that there are youths from all quarters of the
world assembled here: now to prevent them from uniting, as
usually happens when abroad, into national knots, and forming
exclusive parties, we endeavour by a free communication of
speech to approximate them.
"Indeed, a general acquaintance with languages is here in
some degree rendered necessary; since, in our yearly market
festivals, every foreigner wishes to converse in his own tones
and idiom; and, in the course of cheapening and purchasing,
to proceed with all possible convenience. That no Babylonish
confusion of tongues, however, no corruption of speech, may
arise from this practice, we employ a different language month
by month, throughout the year; according to the maxim,
that in learning anything, its first principles alone should be
taught by constraint.
"We look upon our scholars," said the Overseer, "as so
many swimmers, who, in the element which threatened to
swallow them, feel with astonishment that they are lighter,
that it bears and carries them forward: and so it is with
everything that man undertakes.
"However, if anyone of our young men show a special
inclination for this or the other language, we neglect not,
in the midst of this tumultuous-looking life, which nevertheless
offers very many quiet, idly solitary, nay, tedious hours,
to provide for his true and substantial instruction. Our
riding grammarians, among whom there are even some pedagogues,
you would be surprised to discover among these
bearded and beardless Centaurs. Your Felix has turned
himself to Italian; and in the monotonous solitude of his
herdsman life, you shall hear him send forth many a dainty
song with proper feeling and taste. Practical activity and
expertness are far more compatible with sufficient intellectual
culture than is generally supposed."
Each of these districts was celebrating its peculiar festival;
so the guest was now conducted to the Instrumental Music
department. This tract, skirted by the level country, began
from its very border to exhibit kind and beautifully-changing
valleys, little trim woods; soft brooks, by the side of which,
among the sward, here and there, a mossy crag modestly stood
forth. Scattered, bush-encircled dwellings you might see on
the hillsides; in soft hollows, the houses clustered nearer
together. Those gracefully separated cottages lay so far
apart, that neither tones nor mistones could be heard from
one to the other.
They now approached a wide space, begirt with buildings
and shady trees, where crowded, man on man, all seemed on
the stretch of expectation and attention. Just as the stranger
entered, there was sent forth from all the instruments a grand
symphony, the full rich power and tenderness of which he
could not but admire. Opposite the spacious main orchestra
was a smaller one, which failed not to attract his notice: here
stood various younger and elder scholars; each held his instrument
in readiness without playing; these were they who as
yet could not, or durst not, join in with the whole. It was
interesting to observe how they stood as it were on the start;
and our friend was informed that such a festival seldom
passed over, without some one or other of them suddenly
developing his talent.
As among the instrumental music, singing was now introduced,
no doubt could remain that this also was favoured.
To the question, What other sort of culture was here blended
in kind union with the chief employment, our wanderer
learned in reply, that it was Poetry, and of the lyrical kind.
In this matter, it appeared, their main concern was, that both
arts should be developed each for itself and from itself, but
then also in contrast and combination with each other. The
scholars were first instructed in each according to its own
limitations; then taught how the two reciprocally limit, and
again reciprocally free each other.
To poetical rhythm the musical artist opposes measure of
tone and movement of tone. But here the mastery of Music
over Poesy soon shows itself; for if the latter, as is fit and
necessary, keep her quantities never so steadily in view, still
for the musician few syllables are decidedly short or long; at
his pleasure he can overset the most conscientious procedure
of the rhythmer, nay, change prose itself into song; from
which, in truth, the richest possibilities present themselves;
and the poet would soon feel himself annihilated, if he could
not, on his own side, by lyrical tenderness and boldness,
inspire the musician with reverence; and, now in the softest
sequence, now by the most abrupt transitions, awaken new
feelings in the mind.
The singers to be met with here are mostly poets themselves.
Dancing also is taught in its fundamental principles;
that so all these accomplishments may regularly spread themselves
into every district.
The guest, on being led across the next boundary, at once
perceived an altogether different mode of building. The
houses were no longer scattered into separation, no longer in
the shape of cottages: they stood regularly united, beautiful
in their exterior, spacious, convenient and elegant within;
you here saw an unconfined, well-built, stately town, corresponding
to the scene it stood in. Here the Plastic Arts, and
the trades akin to them, have their home; and a peculiar
silence reigns over these spaces.
The plastic artist, it is true, must still figure himself as
standing in relation to all that lives and moves among men;
but his occupation is solitary; and yet, by the strangest
contradiction, there is perhaps no other that so decidedly
requires a living accompaniment and society. Now here, in
that circle, is each in silence forming shapes that are forever
to engage the eyes of men; a holyday stillness reigns over
the whole scene; and did you not here and there catch the
picking of stone-hewers, and the measured stroke of carpenters,
who are now busily employed in finishing a lordly edifice, the
air were unmoved by any sound.
Our wanderer was struck, moreover, by the earnestness, the
singular rigour with which beginners, as well as more advanced
pupils, were treated; it seemed as if no one by his own power
and judgment accomplished anything, but as if a secret spirit,
striving towards one single great aim, pervaded and vivified
them all. Nowhere did you observe a scheme or sketch;
every stroke was drawn with forethought. As the wanderer
inquired of his guide the reason of this peculiar procedure, he
was told: That Imagination was in itself a vague, unstable
power, which the whole merit of the plastic artist consisted in
more and more determining, fixing, nay, at last exalting to
visible presence.
The necessity for sure principles in other arts was mentioned.
"Would the musician," it was said, "permit his scholar to
dash wildly over the strings, nay, to invent bars and intervals
for himself at his own good pleasure? Here it is palpable
that nothing can be left to the caprice of the learner: the
element he is to work in is irrevocably given; the implement
he is to wield is put into his hands; nay, the very way and
manner of his using it, I mean the changing of the fingers, he
finds prescribed to him; so ordered that the one part of his
hand shall give place to the other, and each prepare the proper
path for its follower: by such determinate cooperation only
can the impossible at last become possible.
"But what chiefly vindicates the practice of strict requisitions,
of decided laws, is that genius, that native talent, is
precisely the readiest to seize them, and yield them willing
obedience. It is only the half-gifted that would wish to put
his own contracted singularity in the place of the unconditional
whole, and justify his false attempts under cover of an unconstrainabJe
originality and independence. To this we grant no
currency: we guard our scholars from all such misconceptions,
whereby a large portion of life, nay, often the whole of life, is
apt to be perplexed and disjointed.
"With genius we love most to be concerned: for this is
animated just by that good spirit of quickly recognising what
is profitable for it. Genius understands that Art is called Art
because it is not Nature. Genius bends itself to respect even
towards what may be named conventional: for what is this
but agreeing, as the most distinguished men have agreed, to
regard the unalterable, the indispensable as the best? And
does not such submission always turn to good account?
" Here too, as in all our departments, to the great assistance
of the teachers, our three Reverences and their signs, with
some changes suitable to the nature of the main employment,
have been introduced and inculcated."
The wanderer, in his farther survey, was surprised to observe
that the Town seemed still extending; street unfolding itself
from street, and so offering the most varied prospects. The
exterior of the edifices corresponded to their destination; they
were dignified and stately, not so much magnificent as beautiful.
To the nobler and more earnest buildings in the centre
of the Town, the more cheerful were harmoniously appended;
till farther out, gay decorated suburbs, in graceful style,
stretched forth into the country, and at last separated into
garden-houses.
The stranger could not fail to remark, that the dwellings of
the musicians in the preceding district were by no means to be
compared, in beauty or size, with the present, which painters,
sculptors and architects inhabited. He was told that this
arose from the nature of the thing. The musician, ever
shrouded in himself, must cultivate his inmost being, that so
he may turn it outwards. The sense of the eye he may not
flatter. The eye easily corrupts the judgment of the ear, and
allures the spirit from the inward to the outward. Inversely,
again, the plastic artist has to live in the external world; and
to manifest his inward being, as it were, unconsciously, in and
upon what is outward. Plastic artists should dwell like kings
and gods: how else are they to build and decorate for kings
and gods? They must at last so raise themselves above the
common, that the whole mass of a people may feel itself
ennobled in and by their works.
Our friend then begged an explanation of another paradox:
'Why at this time, so festive, so enlivening, so tumultuously
excited, in the other regions, the greatest stillness prevailed
here, and all labours were continued?
"A plastic artist," it was answered, "needs no festival.
"When he has accomplished something excellent, it stands, as it
has long done before his own eye, now at last before the eye
of the world: in his task he needed no repetition, no new
effort, no fresh success; whereas the musician constantly afflicts
himself with all this; and to him, therefore, the most splendid
festival, in the most numerous assemblage, should not be
refused."
"Yet at such a season," replied Wilhelm, "something like
an exhibition might be desirable; in which it would be
pleasant to inspect and judge the triennial progress of your
best pupils."
"In other places," it was answered, "an exhibition may be
necessary; with us it is not. Our whole being and nature is
exhibition. Look round you at these buildings of every sort:
all erected by our pupils; and this not without plans a hundred
times talked of and meditated; for the builder must not
grope and experiment; what is to continue standing, must
stand rightly, and satisfy, if not forever, yet at least for a long
space of time. If we cannot help committing errors, we must
build none.
"With sculptors we proceed more laxly, most so of all with
painters; to both we give liberty to try this and that, each in
his own way. It stands in their power to select in the interior
or exterior compartments of edifices in public places, some
space which they may incline to decorate. They give forth
their ideas, and if these are in some degree to be approved of,
the completion of them is permitted, and this in two ways:
either with liberty, sooner or later, to remove the work, should
it come to displease the artist; or, with the condition that
what is once set up shall remain unalterable in its place.
Most part choose the first of these offers, retaining in their
own hands this power of removal; and in the performance,
they constantly avail themselves of the best advice. The
second case occurs seldomer; and we then observe that the
artist trusts less to himself, holds long conferences with companions
and critics, and by this means produces works really
estimable, and deserving to endure."
After all this, our Traveller neglected not to ask: What
other species of instruction was combined with the main one
here? and received for answer, that it was Poetry, and of the
Epic sort.
This to our friend must have seemed a little singular, when
he heard farther that the pupils were not allowed to read or
hear any finished poems by ancient or modern poets. "We
merely impart to them," it was said, "a series of myths, traditions
and legends, in the most laconic form. And now, from
the pictorial or poetic execution of these subjects, we at once
discover the peculiar productive gift of the genius devoted to
the one or the other art. Both poet and painter thus labour
at the same fountain; and each endeavours to draw off the
water to his own side, to his own advantage, and attain his
own required objects with it; in which he succeeds much
better than if he attempted again to fashion something that
has been fashioned already."
The Traveller himself has an opportunity of seeing how
this was accomplished: several painters were busy in a room;
a gay young friend was relating with great minuteness a very
simple story; so that he employed almost as many words as
the others did pencil-strokes, to complete the same exhibition
and round it fully off.
He was told, that in working together the friends were wont
to carryon much pleasant conversation; and that in this way
several improvisatori had unfolded their gifts, and succeeded
in exciting great enthusiasm for this twofold mode of representation.
Our friend now reverted his inquiries to the subject of
plastic art. " You have no exhibition," said he; "and therefore
I suppose give no prize either?"
"No," said the other, "we do not; but here, close by, we
can show you something which we reckon more useful."
They entered a large hall, beautifully lighted from above;
a wide circle of busy artists first attracted the eye; and from
the midst of these rose a colossal group of figures, elevated in
the centre of the place. Male and female forms of gigantic
power, in violent postures, reminded one of that lordly fight
between Heroic youths and Amazons, wherein hate and enmity
at last issue in mutually regretful alliance. This strikingly
intertwisted piece of art presented an equally favourable
aspect from every point of its circuit. In a wide ring round
it were many artists sitting and standing, each occupied in his
own way; the painter at his easel, the drawer at his sketchboard;
some were modelling it in full, others in bas-relief;
there were even architects engaged in planning the pedestal,
on which a similar group, when wrought in marble, was to be
erected. Each individual was proceeding by his own method
in this task: painters and drawers were bringing out the group
to a plain surface; careful, however, not to destroy its figures,
but to retain as much of it as possible. In the same manner
were works in bas-relief going forward. One man only had
repeated the whole group in a miniature scale; and in certain
movements and arrangements of limbs he really seemed to
have surpassed his model.
And now it came out that this man was the maker of the
model; who, before working it in marble, had here submitted
his performance not to a critical, but to a practical trial; and
by accurately observing whatever any of his fellow-artists in
his special department and way of thought might notice,
retain or alter in the group, was purposing, in subsequent
consideration, to turn all this to his own profit; so that,
when at length the grand work stood finished in marble,
though undertaken, planned and executed by one, it might
seem to belong to all.
The greatest silence reigned throughout this apartment
also; but the Superior raised his voice, and cried: "Is there
any of you, then, who in presence of this stationary work can,
with gifted words, so awaken our imagination, that all we here
see concreted shall again become fluid, without losing its character;
and so convince us, that what our artist has here laid
hold of, was indeed the worthiest?"
Called forth on all sides by name, a fair youth laid down his
work; and as he stept forward, began a quiet speech, seemingly
intended merely to describe the present group of figures; but
ere long he cast himself into the region of poetry, plunged
into the middle of the action, and ruled this element like a
master; by degrees, his representation so swelled and mounted
by lordly words and gestures, that the rigid group seemed
actually to move about its axis, and the number of its figures
to be doubled and trebled. Wilhelm stood enraptured, and
at last exclaimed: "Can we now forbear passing over into
song itself, into rhythmic melody?"
"This I should wish to hinder," said the Overseer; "for if
our excellent sculptor will be candid, he will confess to us that
our poet scarcely pleases him; and this because their arts lie
in the most opposite regions: on the other hand, I durst bet,
that here and there a painter has not failed to appropriate
some living touches from the speech. A soft kindly song,
however, I could wish our friend to hear: there is one, for
instance, which you sing to an air so lovely and earnest; it
turns on Art in general, and I myself never listen to it without
pleasure. "
After a pause, in which they beckoned to each other, and
settled their arrangements by signs, the following heart and
spirit stirring song resounded in stately melody from all sides:
While inventing and effecting,
Artist, by thyself continue long:
The result art thou expecting,
Haste and see it in the throng.
Here in others look, discover
What thy own life's course has been;
And thy deeds of years past over
In thy fellow man be seen.
The devising, the uniting,
What and how the forms shall be;
One thing will the other lighten,
And at last comes joy to thee!
Wise and true what thou impartest,
Fairly shaped, and softly done:
Thus of old the cunning artist
Artist-like his glory won.
As all Nature's thousand changes
But one changeless God proclaim;
So in Art's wide kingdoms ranges
One sole meaning still the same:
This is Truth, eternal Reason,
Which from Beauty takes its dress,
And serene through time and season
Stands for aye in loveliness.
While the orator, the singer,
Pour their hearts in rhyme and prose,
'Neath the painter's busy finger
Shall bloom forth Life's cheerful rose;
Girt with sisters; in the middle,
And with Autumn's fruitage blent;
That of life's mysterious riddle
Some short glimpses may be hent.
Thousandfold, and graceful, show thou
Form from forms evolving fair;
And of man's bright image know thou
That a God once tarried there:
And whate'er your tasks or prizes,
Stand as brethren one and all,
While, like song, sweet incense rises
From the altar at your call.
All this Wilhelm could not but let pass, though it must
have seemed paradoxical enough; and had he not seen it with
his eyes, might even have appeared impossible. But now,
when it was explained and pointed out to him, openly and
freely, and in fair sequence, he scarcely needed to put any
farther question on the subject. However, he at last addressed
his conductor as follows: "I see here a most prudent provision
made for much that is desirable in life: but tell me farther,
which of your regions exhibits a similar attention to Dramatic
Poetry, and where could I instruct myself in that matter? I
have looked round over all your edifices, and observed none
that seemed destined for such an object."
"In reply to this question, we must not hide from you,
that, in our whole Province, there is no such edifice to be seen.
The drama presupposes the existence of an idle multitude,
perhaps even of a populace; and no such class finds harbour
with us; for birds of that feather, when they do not in spleen
forsake us of their own accord, we soon take care to conduct
over the marches. Doubt not, however, that in our Institution,
so universal in its character, this point was carefully
meditated: but no region could be found for the purpose.
everywhere some important scruple came in the way. Indeed,
who among our pupils could readily determine, with pretended
mirth, or hypocritical sorrow, to excite in the rest a feeling
untrue in itself, and alien to the moment, for the sake of
calling forth an always dubious satisfaction? Such juggleries
we reckoned in all cases dangerous, and could not reconcile
with our earnest objects."
"It is said, however," answered Wilhelm, "that this far-stretching
art promotes all the rest, of whatever sort."
"Nowise," answered the other; "it employs the rest, but
spoils them. I do not blame a player for uniting himself with
a painter: but the painter, in such society, is lost. Without
any conscience, the player will lay hold of whatever art or life
presents him, and use it for its fugitive objects, indeed with no
small profit: the painter, again, who could wish in return to
extract advantage from the theatre, will constantly find himself
a loser by it; and so also in the like case will the musician.
The combined Arts appear to me like a family of sisters, of
whom the greater part were inclined to good economy, but one
was light-headed, and desirous to appropriate and squander
the whole goods and chattels of the household. The Theatre
is this wasteful sister: it has an ambiguous origin, which in no
case, whether as art or trade or amusement, it can wholly
conceal. "
Wilhelm cast his eyes on the ground with a deep sigh; for
all that he had enjoyed or suffered on the Stage rose at once
before his mind; and he blessed the good men who were wise
enough to spare their pupils such pain, and, out of principle
and conviction, to banish such errors from their sphere.
His attendant, however, did not leave him long in these
meditations, but continued: "As it is our highest and holiest
principle, that no talent, no capacity be misdirected, we cannot
hide from ourselves, that among so large a number, here and
there a mimical gift will sometimes decidedly come to light;
exhibiting itself in an irresistible desire to ape the characters,
forms, movements, speech of others. This we certainly do not
encourage; but we observe our pupil strictly, and if he continue
faithful to his nature, then we have already established
an intercourse with the great theatres of all nations, and so
thither we send any youth of tried capability, that, as the
duck on the pond, so he on the boards, may be forthwith
conducted, full speed, to the future quack-quacking, and
gibble-gabbling of his life."
Wilhelm heard this with patience, but only with half-conviction,
perhaps with some spleen: for so strangely is man
tempered, that he may be persuaded of the worthlessness of
any darling object, may turn away from it, nay, even execrate
it, but yet will not see it treated in this way by others; and
perhaps the Spirit of Contradiction which dwells in all men,
never rouses itself more vehemently and stoutly than in such
cases.
And the Editor of these sheets may himself confess, that he
lets not this strange passage through his hands without some
touch of anger. Has not he too, in many senses, expended
more life and faculty than was right on the Theatre? And
would these men convince him that this has been an unpardonable
error, a fruitless toil?
But we have no time for appending, in splenetic mood,
such remembrances and after-feelings to the narrative: for
our friend now finds himself agreeably surprised, as one of the
Three, and this a particularly prepossessing one, again comes
before his eyes. Kind, open meekness, announcing the purest
peace of soul, came in its refreshing effluences along with him.
Trustfully the Wanderer could approach, and feel his trust
returned.
Here he now learned that the Chief was at present in the
Sanctuary, instructing, teaching, blessing; while the Three
had separated to visit all the Regions, and everywhere, after
most thorough information obtained, and conferences with the
subordinate Overseers, to forward what was in progress, to
found what was newly planned, and thereby faithfully discharge
their high duty.
This same excellent person now gave him a more comprehensive
view of their internal situation and external connexions;
explained to him the mutual influences of one Region
on another; and also by what steps, after a longer or a shorter
date, a pupil could be transferred from the one to the other.
All this harmonised completely with what he already knew.
At the same time, he was much gratified by the description
given of his son; and their farther plan of education met with
his entire approval.
He was now, by the Assistants and Overseer, invited to a
Miners' Festival, which was forthwith to be celebrated. The
ascent of the Mountains was difficult; and Wilhelm fancied he
observed that his guide walked even slower towards evening,
as if the darkness had not been likely to obstruct their path
still more. But when deep night came round them, this
enigma was solved: our Wanderer observed little flames come
glimmering and wavering forth from many dells and chasms;
gradually stretch themselves into lines, and roll over the
summits of the mountains. Much kindlier than when
a volcano opens, and its belching roar threatens whole
countries with destruction, did this fair light appear; and
yet, by degrees, it glowed with new brightness; grew
stronger, broader, more continuous; glittered like a stream
of stars, soft and lovely indeed, yet spreading boldly over
all the scene.
After the attendant had a little while enjoyed the surprise
of his guest, for they could clearly enough observe each other,
their faces and forms as well as their path being illuminated
by the light from the distance,-he began: "You see here, in
truth, a curious spectacle: these lights which, day and night,
the whole year over, gleam and work under ground, forwarding
the acquisition of concealed and scarcely attainable treasures;
these now mount and well forth from their abysses, and gladden
the upper night. Scarcely could one anywhere enjoy so brave
a review as here, where this most useful occupation, which in
its subterranean concealment is dispersed and hidden from the
eye, rises before us in its full completeness, and bespeaks a
great secret combination."
Amid such speeches and thoughts, they had reached the
spot where these fire-brooks poured themselves into a sea of
flame, surrounding a well-lighted insular space. The Wanderer
placed himself in the dazzling circle, within which, glittering
lights by thousands formed an imposing contrast with the
miners, ranked round it like a dark wall. Forthwith arose
the gayest music, accompanied by becoming songs. Hollow
masses of rock came forward on machinery, and opened a
resplendent interior to the eye of the delighted spectator.
Mimetic exhibitions, and whatever else at such a moment can
gratify the multitude, combined with all this at once to excite
and to satisfy a cheerful attention.
But with what astonishment was Wilhelm filled, when, on
being introduced to the Superiors, he observed Friend Jarno,
in solemn stately robes, among the number! "Not in vain,"
cried Jarno, "have I changed my former name with the more
expressive title of Montan: thou findest me here initiated in
mountain and cave; and now, if questioned, I could disclose
and explain to thee much that a year ago was still a riddle
to myself."
At this point our manuscripts forsake us: of the conversation
of these friends there is nothing specified; as little can
we discover the connexion of what follows next; an incident
of which in the same bundle, in the same paper, we find brief
notice: That a meeting had taken place between our Wanderer
and Lothario and the Abbe. Unhappily, in this, as in so many
other leaves, the date has been neglected.
Some passages, introduced rather in the way of exclamation
than of narrative, point to the high meaning of Renunciation,
by which alone the first real entrance into life is conceivable.
Then we come upon a Map, marked with several Arrows
pointing towards one another; and along with this we find,
in a certain sequence, several days of the month written
down; so that we might fancy ourselves again walking in
the real world, and moderately certain as to the next part
of our friend's route, were it not that here also various
marks and ciphers, appended in different ways, awoke some
fear that a secret meaning at the bottom of it would forever
lie hid from us.
But what drives us out of all historical composure, is the
strange circumstance, that immediately on all this there comes
in the most improbable narration; of a sort like those tales,
whereby you long keep the hearer's curiosity on the stretch
with a series of wonders, and at last explain: That you were
talking of a dream. However, we shall communicate without
change what lies before us:
"If hitherto we had continued in the metalliferous part of
the mountains, which externally is soft and by no means of a
wild aspect, I was now conducted through precipitous and
scarcely passable rocks and chasms: ht last I gained the
topmost summit; a cliff, the peak of which afforded room only
for a single person; who, if he looked down from it into the
horrid depth, might see furious mountain-torrents foaming
through black abysses. In the present case, I looked down
without giddiness or terror, for I was light of heart: but now
my attention fixed itself on some huge crags rising opposite
me, precipitous like my own, yet offering on their summits a
larger space of level. Though parted by a monstrous chasm,
the jutting masses came so near together that I could distinctly
enough, with the naked eye, observe several persons
assembled on the summit. They were for most part ladies;
one of whom coming forward to the very verge, awakened in
me double and treble anxiety, as I became completely convinced
that it was Natalia herself. The danger of such an
unexpected interview increased every moment; but it grew
boundless, when a perspective came before my eyes, and
brought me over to her, and her over to me. There is
something magical at all times in perspectives. Were we
not accustomed from youth to look through them, we should
shudder and tremble every time we put them to our eyes.
It is we who are looking, and it is not we; a being it is
whose organs are raised to a higher pitch, whose limitations
are done away, who has become entitled to stretch forth into
infinitude.
"When, for example, we observe far-distant persons, by
means of such an instrument, and see them in unsuspicious
thoughtlessness following their business as if they were solitary
and unwatched, we could almost feel afraid lest they might
discover us, and indignantly upbraid us for our treacherous
curiosity.
"And so likewise did I, hemmed in by a strange feeling,
waver between proximity and distance, and from instant to
instant alternate between the two.
"Those others in their turn had observed us; as a signal
with a white handkerchief put beyond a doubt. For a moment
I delayed in my answer to it; finding myself thus close beside
the being whom I adored. This is her pure benign form;
these are her taper arms, which once so helpfully appeared
before me, after unblessed sorrows and perplexities; and at last
too, though but for moments, sympathisingly embraced me.
"I saw distinctly enough that she too had a perspective,
and was looking over to me; and I failed not, by such tokens
as stood at my command, to express the profession of a true
and heartfelt attachment.
"And as experience teaches that remote objects, which we
have once clearly recognised through a perspective, afterwards
appear even to the naked eye as if standing shaped in distinct
nearness; be it that more accurate knowledge sharpens the
sense, or that imagination supplies what is wanting; so now
did I see this beloved being as accurately and distinctly as if
I could have touched her; though her company continued
still irrecognisable. And as I was trampling round my narrow
station, struggling towards her the more, the abyss was like
to swallow me, had not a helpful hand laid hold of mine,
and snatched me at once from my danger and my fairest
happiness. "

CHAPTER 15

HERE at last we again step on firmer ground, the localities
of which we can settle with some probability; though still
here and there on our way there occur a few uncertainties,
which it is not in our power altogether to clear up.
As Wilhelm, in order to reach any point of the line marked
out by the first Arrow, had to proceed obliquely through the
country, he found himself necessitated to perform the journey
on foot, leaving his luggage to be carried after him. For this
walk of his, however, he was richly rewarded; meeting at every
step, quite unexpectedly, with loveliest tracts of scenery. They
were of that sort, which the last slope of a mountain region
forms in its meeting with the plain country; bushy hills, their
soft declivities employed in domestic use; all level spaces
green; nowhere aught steep, unfruitful or unploughed to be
noticed. Ere long he reached the main valley, into which the
side-waters flowed; and this too was carefully cultivated,
graceful when you looked over it; with taper trees marking
the bends of the river, and of the brooks which poured into
it. On looking at his map, his indicator, he observed with
surprise that the line drawn for him cut directly through
this valley; so that, in the first place, he was at least on the
right road.
An old castle, in good repair, and seemingly built at different
periods, stood forth on a bushy hill; at the foot of
which a gay hamlet stretched along, with its large inn rising
prominent among the other houses. Hither he proceeded;
and was received by the landlord kindly enough, yet with an
excuse that he could not be admitted, unless by the permission
of a party who had hired the whole establishment for a time;
on which account he, the landlord, was under the necessity of
sending all his guests to the older inn, which lay farther up
the hamlet. After a short conference, the man seemed to
bethink himself, and said: "Indeed there is no one of them
at home even now; but this is Saturday, and the Bailiff will
not fail to be here soon: he comes every week to settle the
accounts of the last, and make arrangements for the next.
Truly, there is a fair order reigns among these men, and a
pleasure in having to do with them, though they are strict
enough: for if they yield one no great profit, it is sure and
constant." He then desired his new guest to amuse himself in
the large upper hall, and await what farther might occur.
Here Wilhelm, on entering, found a large clean apartment;
except for benches and tables, altogether empty. So much the
more was he surprised to see a large tablet inserted above one
of the doors, with these words marked on it in golden letters,
Ubi homines S1tnt modi s1tnt; which in modern tongue may
signify, that where men combine in society, the way and
manner in which they like to be and to continue together is
directly established. This motto made our Wanderer think:
he took it as a good omen; finding here, expressed and confirmed,
a principle which he had often, in the course of life,
perceived for himself to be furthersome and reasonable. He
had not waited long, when the Bailiff made his appearance;
who being forewarned by the landlord, after a short conversation,
and no very special scrutiny, admitted Wilhelm on the
following terms: To continue three days; to participate
quietly in whatever should occur; and happen what might, to
ask no questions about the reason, and at taking leave, to
ask none about the score. All this our Traveller was obliged
to comply with, the deputy not being allowed to yield in a
single point.
The Bailiff was about retiring, when a sound of vocal music
rolled up the stairs: two pretty young men entered singing;
and these the Bailiff, by a simple sign, gave to understand
that their guest was accepted. Without interrupting their
song, they kindly saluted the stranger, and continued their
duet with the finest grace; showing clearly enough that they
were well trained, and complete masters of their art. As
Wilhelm testified the most attentive interest, they paused and
inquired: If in his own pedestrian wanderings no song ever
occurred to him, which he went along singing by himself?
"A good voice," answered Wilhelm, "Nature has in truth
denied me: yet I often feel as if a secret Genius were whispering
some rhythmic words in my ear; so that, in walking, I
move to musical measure: fancying, at the same time, that I
hear low tones, accompanying some song, which, in one way
or another, has pleasantly risen before me."
"If you recollect such a song, write it down for us," said
they: "we shall see if we have skill to accompany your singing
Demon." He took a leaf from his note-book, and handed
them the following lines;
From the mountains to the champaign,
By the glens and hills along,
Comes a rustling and a tramping,
Comes a motion as of song:
And this undetermined roving-
Brings delight, and brings good heed;
And thy striving, be't with Loving,
And thy living, be't in Deed!
After brief study, there arose at once a gay marching
melody, which, in its repetition and restriction still stepping
forward, hurried on the hearer with it: he was in doubt
whether this was his own tune, his former theme; or one now for
the first time so fitted to the words, that no other movement
was conceivable. The singers had for some time pleasantly
proceeded in this manner, when two stout young fellows came
in, whom, by their accoutrements, you directly recognised as
masons; two others, who followed them, being as evidently
carpenter-so These four, softly laying down their tools,
listened to the music, and soon struck in with sure and
decided voices; so that to the mind it seemed as if a real
wayfaring company were stepping along over hill and valley;
and Wilhelm thought he had never heard anything so graceful,
so enlivening to heart and mind. This enjoyment, however,
was to be increased yet farther, and raised to the highest
pitch, by the entrance of a gigantic figure, mounting the stairs
with a hard firm tread, which, with all his efforts, he could
scarcely moderate. A heavy-laden dorsel he directly placed
in the corner; himself he seated on a bench, which beginning
to creak under his weight, the others laughed, yet without
going wrong in their music. Wilhelm, however, was exceedingly
surprised, when, with a huge bass voice, this Son of Anak
joined in also. The hall quivered; and it was to be observed
that in his part he altered the burden, and sang it thus:
Life's no resting, but a moving,
Let thy life be Deed on Deed!
Farther, you could very soon perceive that he was drawing
down the time to a slower step, and forcing the rest to follow
him. Of this, when at last they were satisfied and had concluded,
they accused him; declaring he had tried to set them
wrong.
"Not at all!" cried he: "it is you who tried to set me
wrong; to put me out of my own step, which must be measured
and sure, if I am to walk with my loading up hill and down
dale, and yet, in the end, arrive at my appointed hour, to
satisfy your wants."
One after the other, these persons now passed into an
adjoining room to the Bailiff; and Wilhelm easily observed
that they were occupied in settling accounts; a point, however,
as to which he was not allowed at present to inquire
farther. Two fair lively boys in the mean while entered, and
began covering a table in all speed, moderately furnishing it
with meat and wine; and the Bailiff, coming out, invited them
all to sit down along with him. The boys waited; yet forgot
not their own concern, but enjoyed their share in a standing
posture. Wilhelm recollected witnessing similar scenes during
his abode among the players; yet the present company seemed
to be of a much more serious cast; constituted not out of
sport, for show, but with a view to important concerns of life.
The conversation of the craftsmen with the Bailiff added
strength to this conviction. These four active young people,
it appeared, were busy in the neighbourhood, where a violent
conflagration had destroyed the fairest village in the country;
nor did Wilhelm fail to learn that the worthy Bailiff was
employed in getting timber and other building materials; all
which looked the more enigmatical, as none of these persons
seemed to be resident here, but in all other points announced
themselves as transitory strangers. By way of conclusion to
the meal, St. Christopher, such was the name they gave the
giant, brought out, for good-night, a dainty glass of wine,
which had before been set aside: a gay choral song kept the
party still some time together, after they were out of sight;
and then Wilhelm was at last conducted to a chamber of the
loveliest aspect and situation. The full moon, enlightening a
I'ich plain, was already up; and in the bosom of our Wanderer
it awoke remembrances of similar scenes. The spirits of all
dear friends hovered past him; especially the image of Lenardo
rose in him so vividly, that he might have fancied the man
himself was standing before his eyes. All this had prepared
him with its kind influences for nightly rest; when, on a
sudden, there arose a tone of so strange a nature, that it
almost frightened him. It sounded as from a distance, and
yet seemed to be in the house itself; for the building quivered
many times, and the floors reverberated when the sound rose
to its highest pitch. Wilhelm, though his ear was usually
delicate in discriminating tones, could make nothing of this:
he compared it to the droning roar of a huge organ-pipe,
which, for sheer compass, produces no determinate note.
Whether this nocturnal terror passed away towards morning,
or Wilhelm by degrees became accustomed to the sound, and
no longer heeded it, is difficult to discover: at any rate, he fell
asleep; and was in due time pleasantly awakened by the rising
sun.
Scarcely had one of the boys who were in waiting brought
him breakfast, when a figure entered, whom he had already
noticed last night at supper, without clearly ascertaining his
quality. A well-formed, broad-shouldered, yet nimble man;
who now, by the implements which he spread out, announced
himself as Barber, and forthwith prepared for performing his
much-desired office on Wilhelm. For the rest, he was quite
silent: and with a light hand he went through his task, without
once having opened his lips. Wilhelm therefore began,
and said: "Of your art you are completely master; and I
know not that I have ever had a softer razor on my cheeks; at
the same time, however, you appear to be a strict observer of
the laws of the Society."
Roguishly smiling, laying his finger on his lips, the taciturn
shaver glided through the door. "By my sooth," cried Wilhelm
after him, "I think you must be old Redcloak; if not
himself, at least a descendant of his: it is lucky for you that
you ask no counter service of me; your turn would have been
but sorrily done."
No sooner had this curious personage retired, than the well-known
Bailiff came in, inviting our friend to dinner for this
day, in words which sounded pretty strange: the BOND, so said
the speaker expressly, gave the stranger welcome; requested
his company at dinner; and took pleasure in the hope of being
more closely connected with him. Inquiries were then made
as to the guest's health, and how he was contented with his
entertainment; to all which he could only answer in terms of
satisfaction. He would, in truth, have liked much to ask of
this man, as previously of the silent Barber, some information
touching the horrid sound which throughout the night had,
if not tormented, at least discomposed him; but, mindful of
his engagement, he forbore all questions; hoping that, without
importunity, from the good-will of the Society, or in some
other accidental way, he might be informed according to his
wishes.
Our friend now, when left alone, began to reflect on the
strange person who had sent him this invitation, and knew not
well what to make of the matter. To designate one or more
superiors by a neuter noun, seemed to him a somewhat precarious
mode of speech. For the rest, there was such a
stillness all round, that he could not recollect of ever having
passed a stiller Sunday. He went out of doors; and, hearing
a sound of bells, walked towards the village. Mass was just
over; and among the villagers and country-people crowding
out of church, he observed three acquaintances of last night;
a mason, a carpenter, and a boy. Farther on, he met among
the Protestant worshippers the other corresponding three.
How the rest managed their devotion was unknown to him:
but so much he thought himself entitled to conclude, that in
this Society a full religious toleration was practised.
About mid-day, at the castle-gate, he was met by the
Bailiff; who then conducted him through various halls into
a large ante-chamber, and there desired him to take a seat.
Many persons passed through into an adjoining hall. Those
already known were to be seen among them; St. Christopher
himself went by: all saluted the Bailiff and the stranger. But
what struck our friend most in this affair was, that the whole
party seemed to consist of artisans; all dressed in the usual
fashion, though extremely neat and clean: a few among the
number you might at most perhaps have reckoned of the clerk
species.
No more guests now making their appearance, the Bailiff"
led our friend through the stately door into a spacious hall.
Here a table of immense length had been covered; past the
lower end of which he was conducted, towards the head, where
he saw three persons standing in a cross direction. But what
was his astonishment when he approached, and Lenardo,
scarcely yet recognised, fell upon his neck. From this surprise
he had not recovered, when another person, with no less
warmth and vivacity, likewise embraced him; announcing
himself as our strange Friedrich, Natalia's brother. The
rapture of these friends diffused itself over all present: an
exclamation of joy and blessing sounded along the whole table.
But in a moment, the company being seated, all again became
silent; and the repast, served up with a certain solemnity, was
enjoyed in like manner.
Towards the conclusion of the ceremony, Lenardo gave a
sign: two singers rose; and Wilhelm was exceedingly surprised
to hear in this place his yesternight's song; which we,
for the sake of what follows, shall beg permission to insert
once more:
From the mountains to the champaign,
By the glens and hills along,
Comes a rustling and a tramping,
Comes a motion as of song:
And this undetermined roving
Brings delight, and brings good heed;
And thy striving, be't with Loving,
And thy living, be't in Deed!
Scarcely had this duet, accompanied by a chorus of agreeable
number, approached its conclusion, when two other singers, on
the opposite side, started up impetuously; and, with earnest
vehemence, inverted rather than continued the song; to
Wilhelm's astonishment, proceeding thus:
For the tie is snapt asunder,
Trust and loving hope are fled;
Can I tell, in fear and wonder,
With what dangers round bestead,
I, cut off from friend and brother,
Like the widow in her woe,
With the one and not the other,
Now my weary way must go !
The chorus, taking up the strophe, grew more and more
numerous, more and more vociferous; and yet the voice of St.
Christopher, from the bottom of the table, could still be distinctly
recognised among them. The lamentation, in the end,
rose almost to be frightful: a spirit of dispiritment, combining
with the skilful execution of the singers, introduced
something unnatural into the whole, so that it pained our
friend, and almost made him shudder. In truth, they all
seemed perfectly of one mind; and as if lamenting their own
fate on the eve of a separation. The strange repetitions, the
frequent resuscitation of a fatiguing song, at length became
dangerous in the eyes of the Bond itself: Lenardo rose, and
all instantly sat down, abruptly breaking off their hymn. The
other, with friendly words, thus began:
"Indeed I cannot blame you for continually recalling to
your minds the destiny which stands before us all, that so, at
any hour, you may be ready for it. If aged and life-weary men
have called to their neighbours: Think of dying! we younger
and lifeloving men may well keep encouraging and reminding
one another with the cheerful words: Think of wandering!
Yet, withal, of a thing which we either voluntarily undertake,
or believe ourselves constrained to, it were well to speak with
cheerfulness and moderation. You yourselves know best what,
in our situation, is fixed, and what is moveable: let us enjoy
the former too, in sprightly and gay tones; and to its success
be this parting cup now drunk! " He emptied his glass, and
sat down: the four singers instantly rose, and in flowing
connected tones thus began:
Keep not standing fix'd and rooted,
Briskly venture, briskly roam:
Head and hand, where'er thou foot it,
And stout heart, are still at home.
In each land the sun does visit
We are gay, whate'er betide:
To g-iveroom for wand'ring is it
That the world was made so wide.
As the chorus struck in with its repetition of these lines,
Lenardo rose, with him all the rest. His nod set the whole
company into singing movement; those at the lower end
marched out, St. Christopher at their head, in pairs through
the hall; and the uplifted wanderers' song grew clearer and
freer, the farther they proceeded; producing at last a particularly good effect, when, from the terraces of the castle-garden,
you looked down over the broad valley, in whose fulness and
beauty you might well have liked to lose yourself. While
the multitude were dispersing this way and that, according to
their pleasure, Wilhelm was made acquainted with the third
Superior. This was the Amtmann; by whose kind influence
many favours had been done the Society; in particular, the
Castle of his patron the Count, situated among several families
of rank, had been given up to their use, so long as they might
think fit to tarry here.
Towards evening, while the friends were in a far-seeing
~rove, there came a portly figure over the threshold, whom
Wilhelm at once recognised as the Barber of this morning.
'1'0 a low mute bow of the man, Lenardo answered: "You
now come, as always, at the right season; and will not delay to
entertain us with your talent. I may be allowed," continued
he, turning towards Wilhelm, "to give you some knowledge of
our Society, the Bond of which I may flatter myself that I am.
No one enters our circle unless he have some talents to show,
which may contribute to the use or enjoyment of society in
general. This man is an excellent surgeon; of his skill as a
beard-artist you yourself can testify: for these reasons he is no
less welcome than necessary to us. Now, as his employment
usually brings with it a great and often burdensome garrulity,
he has engaged, for the sake of his own culture, to comply with
a certain condition; as, indeed, everyone that means to live
with us must agree to constrain himself in some particular
point, if the greater freedom be left him in all other points.
Accordingly our Barber has renounced the use of his tongue,
in so far as aught common or casual is to be expressed by it :
but by this means, another gift of speech has been unfolded in
him, which acts by forethought, cunningly and pleasurably;
I mean the gift of narration.
"His life is rich in wonderful experiences, which he used to
split in pieces, babbling of them at wrong times; but which
he now, constrained by silence, repeats and arranges in his
quiet thought. This also his powers of imagination now forwards,
lending life and movement to past occurrences. With
no common art and skill, he can relate to us genuine Antique
Tales, or modern stories of the same fabulous cast; thereby
at the right hour affording us a most pleasant entertainment,
when I loose his tongue for him; which I now do; giving him,
at the same time, this praise, that in the considerable period
during which I have known him, he has never once been guilty
of a repetition. I cannot but hope that, in the present case,
for love and respect to our dear guest, he will especially
distinguish himself."
A sprightly cheerfulness spread over Redcloak's face; and
without delay he began speaking as follows.

CHAPTER 16

THE NEW MELUSINA

"RESPECTED gentlemen! Being aware that preliminary
speeches and introductions are not much to your taste, I shall
without farther talk assure you, that in the present instance, I
hope to fulfil your commission moderately well. From me has
many a true history gone forth already, to the high and universal
satisfaction of hearers: but, today I may assert that I
have one to tell, which far surpasses the former; and which,
though it happened to me several years ago, still disquiets me
in recollecting it, nay, still gives hope of some farther
development.
"By way of introduction, let me confess, that I have not
always so arranged my scheme of life as to be certain of the
next period in it, or even of the next day. In my youth, I was
no first-rate economist; and often found myself in manifold
perplexity. At one time I undertook a journey, thinking to
derive good profit in the course of it: but the scale I went
upon was too liberal; and after having commenced my
travel with Extra-post, and then prosecuted it for a time in
the Diligence, I at last found myself obliged to front the end
of it on foot.
"Like a gay young blade, it had been from of old my
custom on entering any inn, to look round for the landlady,
or even the cook, and wheedle myself into favour with her;
whereby, for most Pa.!'t, my shot was somewhat reduced.
"One night at dusk, as I was entering the Post-house of a
little town, and purposing to set about my customary operations,
there came a fair double-seated coach with four horses
rattling up to the door behind me. I turned round; and
observed in it a young lady, without maid, without servants.
I hastened to open the carriage for her, and to ask if I could
help her in anything. On stepping out, a fair form displayed
itself; and her lovely countenance, if you looked at it narrowly,
was adorned with a slight shade of sorrow. I again asked
if there was aught I could do for her. '0 yes! ' said she, , if
you will lift that little Box carefully, which you will find
standing on the seat, and bring it in: but I beg very much of
you to carry it with all steadiness, and not to move or shake it
in the least.' I took out the Box with great care; she shut
the coach door; we walked up-stairs together, and she told
the servants that she was to stay here for the night.
"We were now alone in the chamber: she desired me to
put the Box on the table, which was standing at the wall; and
as, by several of her movements, I observed that she wished to
be alone, I took my leave, reverently but warmly kissing her
hand.
"'Order supper for us two,' said she then: and you may
well conceive with what pleasure I executed the commission,
scarcely deigning, in my pride of heart, to cast even a sidelook
on landlady and menials. With impatience I expected
the moment that was to lead me back to her. Supper was
served; we took our seats opposite each other; I refreshed
my heart, for the first time during a considerable while, with
a good meal; and no less 'with so desirable a sight beside me;
nay, it seemed as if she were growing fairer and fairer every
moment.
"Her conversation was pleasant; yet she carefully waived
whatever had reference to affection and love. The cloth was
removed: I still lingered, I tried all sorts of manreuvres to get
near her; but in vain; she kept me at my distance, by a certain
dignity which I could not withstand; nay, against my
will, I had to part from her at a rather early hour.
"After a night passed in waking or unrestfully dreaming, I
rose early; inquired whether she had ordered horses; and
learning that she had not, I walked into the garden, saw her
standing dressed at the window, and hastened up to her.
Here, as she looked so fair, and fairer than ever, love, roguery
and audacity all at once started into motion within me: I
rushed towards her, and clasped her in my arms. ' Angelic,
irresistible being,' cried I,  pardon! but it is impossible-!'
With incredible dexterity she whisked herself out of my arms,
and I had not even time to imprint a kiss on her cheek.
'Forbear such outbreakings of a sudden foolish passion,' said
she, , if you would not scare away a happiness which lies close
beside you, but which cannot be laid hold of till after some
trials.'
" 'Ask of me what thou pleasest, angelic spirit!' cried I:
, but do not drive me to despair.' She answered with a smile:
, If you mean to devote yourself to my service, hear the terms.
I am come hither to visit a lady of my friends, and with her I
purpose to continue for a time: in the mean while, I could
wish that my carriage and this Box were taken forward. Will
you engage with it? You have nothing to do, but carefully
to lift the Box into the carriage and out; to sit down beside
it, and punctually take charge that it receive no harm. When
you enter an inn, it is put upon a table, in a chamber by
itself, in which you must neither sit nor sleep. You lock the
chamber-door with this key, which will open and shut any
lock, and has the peculiar property, that no lock shut by it
can be opened in the interim.'
"I looked at her; I felt strangely enough at heart: I promised
to do all, if I might hope to see her soon, and if she
would seal this hope to me with a kiss. She did so ; and from
that moment, I had become entirely her bondman. I was
now to order horses, she said. We settled the way I was to
take; the places where I was to wait, and expect her. She at
last pressed a purse of gold into my hand, and I pressed my
lips on the fair hand that gave it me. She seemed moved at
parting; and for me, I no longer knew what I was doing or
was to do.
"On my return from giving my orders, I found the room-door
locked. I directly tried my master-key, and it performed
its duty perfectly. The door flew up: I found the
chamber empty; only the Box standing on the table where J
had laid it.
" The carriage drove up: I carried the Box carefully down
with me, and placed it by my side. The hostess asked:
, Where is the lady, then?' A child answered: 'She is gone
into the town.' I nodded to the people: and rolled off in
triumph from the door, which I had last night entered with
dusty gaiters. That in my hours of leisure I diligently
meditated on this adventure, counted my money, laid many
schemes, and still now and then kept glancing at the Box,
you will readily imagine. I posted right forward; passed
several stages without alighting; and rested not till I had
reached a considerable town, where my fair one had appointed
me to wait. Her commands had been pointedly obeyed:
the Box always carried to a separate room, and two wax
candles lighted beside it, for such also had been her order. I
would then lock the chamber; establish myself in my own,
and take such comfort as the place afforded.
"For a while I was able to employ myself with thinking of
her: but by degrees the time began to hang heavy on my
hands. I was not used to live without companions: these
I soon found, at tables-d'h6te, in coffee-houses and public
places, altogether to my wish. In such a mode of living my
money began to melt away; and one night, it vanished
entirely from my purse, in a fit of passionate gaming, which
I had not had the prudence to abandon. Void of money;
with the appearance of a rich man, expecting a heavy bill of
charges; uncertain whether and when my fair one would
again make her appearance, I felt myself in the deepest
embarrassment. Doubly did I now long for her; and believe
that, without her and her gold, it was quite impossible for me
to live.
"After supper, which I had relished very little, being
forced for this time to consume it in solitude, I took to
walking violently up and down my room: I spoke aloud to
myself, cursed my folly with horrid execrations, threw myself
on the floor, tore my hair, and indeed behaved in the most
outrageous fashion. Suddenly, in the adjoining chamber
where the Box was, I heard a slight movement, and then a
soft knocking at the well-bolted door, which entered from
my apartment. I gather myself, grope for my master-key; but
the folding-doors fly open of themselves; and in the splendour
of those burning wax-lights enters my Beauty. I cast myself
at her feet, kiss her robe, her hands; she raises me; I venture
not to clasp her, scarcely to look at her; but candidly and
repentantly confess to her my fault. 'It is pardonable,' said
she; 'only it postpones your happiness and mine. You
must now make another tour into the world before we can
meet again. Here is more money,' continued she, 'sufficient
if you husband it with any kind of reason. But as wine and
play have brought you into this perplexity, be on your guard
in future against wine and women, and let me hope for a glad
meeting when the time comes.'
"She retired over the threshold; the folding-doors flew
together: I knocked, I entreated; but nothing farther
stirred. Next morning, while presenting his bill, the waiter
smiled, and said: 'So we have found out at last, then, why
you lock your door in so artful and incomprehensible a way,
that no master-key can open it. We supposed you must
have much money and precious ware laid up by you: but
now we have seen your treasure walking down-stairs; and in
good truth it seemed worthy of being well kept.'
"To this I answered nothing; but paid my reckoning, and
mounted with my Box into the carriage. I again rolled forth
into the world, with the firmest resolution to be heedful in
future of the warning given me by my fair and mysterious
friend. Scarcely, however, had I once more reached a large
town, when forthwith I got acquainted with certain interesting
ladies, from whom I absolutely could not tear myself away.
They seemed inclined to make me pay dear for their favour:
for while they still kept me at a certain distance, they led me
into one expense after the other; and I, being anxious only
to promote their satisfaction, once more ceased to think of
my purse, but paid and spent straightforward, as occasion
needed. But how great was my astonishment and joy, when,
after some weeks, I observed that the fulness of my store was
not in the least diminished, that my purse was still as round
and crammed as ever! Wishing to obtain more strict knowledge
of this pretty quality, I set myself down to count; I
accurately marked the sum; and again proceeded in my
joyous life as before. We had no want of excursions by land,
and excursions by water; of dancing, singing, and other
recreations. But now it required small attention to observe
that the purse was actually diminishing; as if by my cursed
counting I had robbed it of the properly of being uncountable.
However, this gay mode of existence had been once entered
on; I could not draw back; and yet my ready money soon
verged to a close. I execrated my situation; upbraided my
fair friend, for having so led me into temptation; took it as
an offence that she did not again show herself to me; renounced,
in my spleen, all duties towards her; and resolved
to break open the Box, and see if peradventure any help
might be found there. I was just about proceeding with my
purpose: but I put it off till night, that I might go through
the business with full composure; and, in the mean time, I
hastened off to a banquet, for which this was the appointed
hour. Here again we got into a high key; the wine and
trumpet-sounding had flushed me not a little, when by the
most villainous luck it chanced, that during the dessert, a
former friend of my dearest fair one, returning from a
journey, entered unexpectedly, placed himself beside her, and,
without much ceremony, set about asserting his old privileges.
Hence very soon arose ill-humour, quarrelling and battle: we
plucked out our spits; and I was carried home half dead of
several wounds.
"The surgeon had bandaged me and gone away: it was
far in the night; my sick-nurse had fallen asleep; the door
of the side-room opened; my fair mysterious friend came in,
and sat down by me on the bed. She asked how I was: I
answered not, for I was faint and sullen. She continued
speaking with much sympathy: she rubbed my temples with
a certain balsam, whereby I felt myself rapidly and decidedly
strengthened, so strengthened that I could now get angry and
upbraid her. In a violent speech I threw all the blame of
my misfortune on her; on the passion she had inspired me
with; on her appearing and vanishing, and the tedium, the
longing which in such a case I could not but feel. I waxed
more and more vehement, as if a fever had been coming on;
and I swore to her at last, that if she would not be mine,
would not now abide with me and wed me, I had no wish to
live any longer; to all which I required a peremptory answer.
As she lingered and held back with her explanation, I got
altogether beside myself, and tore off my double and triple
bandages, in the firmest resolution to bleed to death. But
what was my amazement, when I found all my wounds healed,
my skin smooth and entire, and this fair friend in my arms!
" Henceforth we were the happiest pair in the world. We
both begged pardon of each other, without either of us
rightly knowing why. She now promised to travel on along
with me: and soon we were sitting side by side in the
carriage; the little Box lying opposite us on the other seat.
Of this I had never spoken to her, nor did I now think of
speaking, though it lay there before our eyes; and both of
us, by tacit agreement, took charge of it, as circumstances
might require; I, however, still carrying it to and from the
carriage, and busying myself, as formerly, with the locking of
the doors.
"So long as aught remained in my purse, I had continued
to pay: but when my cash went done, I signified the fact to
her. 'That is easily helped,' said she, pointing to a couple of
little pouches fixed at the top, to the sides of the carriage.
These I had often observed before, but never turned to use.
She put her hand into the one, and pulled out some gold
pieces, as from the other some coins of silver; thereby
showing me the possibility of meeting any scale of expenditure
which we might choose to adopt. And thus we
journeyed on from town to town, from land to land; contented
with each other and with the world: and I fancied
not that she would again leave me; the less so, that for some
time she had evidently been as loving wives wish to be, a
circumstance by which our happiness and mutual affection
was increased still farther. But one morning, alas, she could
not be found: and as my actual residence, without her
company, became displeasing, I again took the road with my
Box; tried the virtue of the two pouches, and found it still
unimpaired.
"My journey proceeded without accident. But if I had
hitherto paid little heed to the mysteries of my adventure,
expecting a natural solution of the whole, there now occurred
something which threw me into astonishment, into anxiety,
nay, into fear. Being wont, in my impatience for change of
place, to hurry forward day and night, it was often my hap to
be travelling in the dark: and when the lamps, by any chance,
went out, to be left in utter obscurity. Once in the dead
of such a night, I had fallen asleep; and on awakening I
observed the glimmer of a light on the covering of my carriage.
I examined this more strictly, and found that it was
issuing from the Box; in which there seemed to be a chink,
as if it had been chapped by the warm and dry weather of
summer, which was now come on. My thoughts of jewels
again came into my head; I supposed there must be some
carbuncle lying in the Box, and this point I forthwith set
about investigating. I postured myself as well as might be,
so that my eye was in immediate contact with the chink. But
how great was my surprise, when a fair apartment, well lighted,
and furnished with much taste and even costliness, met my
inspection, just as if I had been looking down through the
opening of a dome into a royal saloon! A fire was burning
in the grate; and before it stood an arm-chair. I held my
breath and continued to observe. And now there entered
from the other side of the apartment a lady with a book in
her hand, whom I at once recognised for my wife, though her
figure was contracted into the extreme of diminution. She
sat down in the chair by the fire to read; she trimmed the
coals with the most dainty pair of tongs; and in the course of
her movements, I could clearly perceive that this fairest little
creature was also in the family way. But now I was obliged
to shift my constrained posture a little; and the next moment,
when I bent down to look in again, and convince myself that
it was no dream, the light had vanished, and my eye rested
on empty darkness.
"How amazed, nay, terrified I was, you may easily conceive.
I started a thousand thoughts on this discovery, and in
truth could think nothing. In the midst of this, I fell asleep;
and on awakening, I fancied that it must have been a mere
dream; yet I felt myself in some degree estranged from my
fair one; and though I watched over the Box but so much
the more carefully, I knew not whether the event of her reappearance
in human size was a thing which I should wish
or dread.
" fter some time she did in fact re-appear: one evening,
in a white robe, she came gliding in; and as it was just then
growing dusky in my room, she seemed to me taller than when
I had seen her last: and I remembered having heard that all
beings of the mermaid and gnome species increased in stature
very perceptibly at the fall of night. She flew, as usual, to
my arms; but I could not with right gladness press her to my
obstructed breast.
'"My dearest,' said she, 'I now feel by thy reception of me,
what, alas, I already knew too well. Thou hast seen me in
the interim: thou art acquainted with the state in which, at
certain times, I find myself; thy happiness and mine is interrupted,
nay, it stands on the brink of being annihilated
altogether. I must leave thee; and I know not whether I
shall ever see thee again.' Her presence, the grace with
which she spoke, directly banished from my memory almost
every trace of that vision, which indeed had already hovered
before me as little more than a dream. I addressed her with
kind vivacity, convinced her of my passion, assured her that
I was innocent, that my discovery was accidental; in short, I
so managed it that she appeared composed, and endeavoured
to compose me.
'"Try thyself strictly,' said she, 'whether this discovery has
not hurt thy love, whether thou canst forget that I live in two
forms beside thee, whether the diminution of my being will not
also contract thy affection.'
"I looked at her: she was fairer than ever; and I thought
within myself: Is it so great a misfortune, after all, to have a
wife who from time to time becomes a dwarf, so that one can
carry her about with him in a casket ? Were it not much
worse if she became a giantess, and put her husband in the
box ? My gaiety of heart had returned. I would not for the
whole world have let her go. 'Best heart,' said I, , let us be
and continue ever as we have been. Could either of us wish
to be better? Enjoy thy conveniency; and I promise thee to
guard the Box with so much the more faithfulness. Why
should the prettiest sight I have ever seen in my life make a
had impression on me? How happy would lovers be, could
they but procure such miniature pictures! And after all,
it was but a picture, a little sleight-of-hand deception. Thou
art trying and teasing me: but thou shalt see how I will
stand it.'
"'The matter is more serious than thou thinkest,' said the
fair one: 'however, I am truly glad to see thee take it so
lightly; for much good may still be awaiting us both. I
will trust in thee; and for my own part do my utmost:
only promise me that thou wilt never mention this discovery
by way of reproach. Another prayer likewise I must earnestly
make to thee: Be more than ever on thy guard against wine
and anger.'
"I promised what she required; I could have gone on
promising to all lengths: but she herself turned aside the
conversation; and thenceforth all proceeded in its former
routine. We had no inducement to alter our place of residence:
the town was large, the society various; and the fine
season gave rise to many an excursion and garden festival.
"In all such amusements the presence of my wife was welcome,
nay, eagerly desired, by women as well as men. A kind
insinuating manner, joined with a certain dignity of bearing,
secured to her on all hands praise and estimation. Besides,
she could play beautifully on the lute, accompanying it with
her voice; and no social night could be perfect, unless crowned
by the graces of this talent.
"I will be free to confess that I have never got much good
of music; on the contrary, it has always rather had a disagreeable
effect on me. My fair one soon noticed this, and
accordingly, when by ourselves, she never tried to entertain
me by such means: in return, however, she appeared to indemnify
herself while in society, where indeed she always found
a crowd of admirers.
"And now, why should I deny it, our late dialogue, in spite
of my best intentions, had by no means sufficed to abolish the
matter within me: on the contrary, my temper of mind had
by degrees got into the strangest tune, almost without my
being conscious of it. One night, in a large company, this
hidden grudge broke loose, and by its consequences produced
to myself the greatest damage.
"When I look back on it now, I in fact loved my beauty
far less, after that unlucky discovery: I was also growing
jealous of her; a whim that had never struck me before. This
night at table, I found myself placed very much to my mind
beside my two neighbours, a couple of ladies, who, for some
time, had appeared to me very charming. Amid jesting and
soft small talk, I was not sparing of my wine: while, on the
other side, a pair of musical dilettanti had got hold of my
wife, and at last contrived to lead the company into singing
separately, and by way of chorus. This put me into ill-humour.
The two amateurs appeared to me impertinent;
the singing vexed me; and when, as my turn came, they
even requested a solo-strophe from me, I grew truly indignant,
I emptied my glass, and set it down again with no soft
movement.
"The grace of my two fair neighbours soon pacified me,
indeed; but there is an evil nature in wrath, when once it is
set a-going. It went on fermenting within me, though all
things were of a kind to induce joy and complaisance. On
the contrary, I waxed more splenetic than ever when a lute
was produced, and my fair one began fingering it and singing,
to the admiration of all the rest. Unhappily, a general silence
was requested. So then, I was not even to talk any more;
and these tones were going through me like a toothache.
Was it any wonder that, at last, the smallest spark should
blow-up the mine?
"The songstress had just ended a song amid the loudest
applauses, when she looked over to me; and this truly with
the most loving face in the world. Unluckily, its lovingness
could not penetrate so far. She perceived that I had just
gulped down a cup of wine, and was pouring out a fresh
one. With her right fore-finger she beckoned to me in kind
threatening. 'Consider that it is wine!' said she, not louder
than for myself to hear it.-'Water is for mermaids!' cried
I.-'My ladies,' said she to my neighbours, 'crown the cup
with all your gracefulness, that it be not too often emptied.'
-' You will not let yourself be tutored?' whispered one of
them in my ear.-'What ails the Dwarf?' cried I, with a
more violent gesture, in which I overset the glass.-' Ah, what
you have spilt!' cried the paragon of women; at the same
time, twanging her strings, as if to lead back the attention of
the company from this disturbance to herself. Her attempt
succeeded; the more completely as she rose to her feet,
seemingly that she might play with greater convenience, and
in this attitude continued preluding.
"At sight of the red wine running over the table-cloth, I
returned to myself. I perceived the great fault I had been
guilty of; and it cut me through the very heart. Never till
now had music spoken to me: the first verse she sang was
a friendly good-night to the company, here as they were, as
they might still feel themselves together. With the next verse
they became as if scattered asunder; each felt himself solitary,
separated, no one could fancy that he was present any longer.
But what shall I say of the last verse? It was directed to
me alone; the voice of injured Love bidding farewell to
Moroseness and Caprice.
"In silence I conducted her home; foreboding no good.
Scarcely, however, had we reached our chamber, when she
began to show herself exceedingly kind and graceful, nay, even
roguish; she made me the happiest of all men.
"Next morning, in high spirits and full of love, I said to
her; 'Thou hast so often sung, when asked in company; as,
for example, thy touching farewell song last night. Come
now, for my sake, and sing me a dainty gay welcome to this
morning hour, that we may feel as if we were meeting for the
first time.'
'"That I may not do, my friend,' said she seriously. 'The
song of last night referred to our parting, which must now
forthwith take place; for I can only tell thee, the violation of
thy promise and oath will have the worst consequences for us
both; thou hast scoffed away a great felicity, and I too must
renounce my dearest wishes.'
"As I now pressed and entreated her to explain herself
more clearly, she answered: 'That, alas, I can well do; for,
at all events, my continuance with thee is over. Hear, then,
what I would rather have concealed to the latest times. The
form, under which thou sawest me in the Box, is my natural
and proper form: for I am of the race of King Eckwald, the
dread Sovereign of the Dwarfs, concerning whom authentic
History has recorded so much. Our people are still as of old
laborious and busy, and therefore easy to govern. Thou must
not fancy that the Dwarfs are behindhand in their manufacturing
skill. Swords which followed the foe, when you cast
them after him; invisible and mysteriously binding chains;
impenetrable shields, and suchlike ware, in old times, formed
their staple produce. But now they chiefly employ themselves
with articles of convenience and ornament; in which truly
they surpass all people of the Earth. I may well say, it would
astonish thee to walk through our workshops and warehouses.
All this would be right and good, were it not
that with the whole nation in general, but more particularly
with the royal family, there is one peculiar circumstance
connected.'
"She paused for a moment; and I again begged farther
light on these wonderful secrets; which accordingly she forthwith
proceeded to grant.
"'It is well known,' said she, 'that God, so soon as he had
created the world, and the ground was dry, and the mountains
were standing bright and glorious, that God, I say, thereupon,
in the very first place, created the Dwarfs; to the end that
there might be reasonable beings also, who, in their passages
and chasms, might contemplate and adore his wonders in the
inward parts of the Earth. It is farther well known, that this
little race by degrees became uplifted in heart, and attempted
to acquire the dominion of the Earth; for which reason God
then created the Dragons, in order to drive back the Dwarfs
into their mountains. Now, as the Dragons themselves were
wont to nestle in the large caverns and clefts, and dwell there;
and many of them, too, were in the habit of spitting fire, and
working much other mischief, the poor little Dwarfs were by
this means thrown into exceeding straits and distress, so that
not knowing what in the world to do, they humbly and fervently
turned to God, and called to him in prayer, that he
would vouchsafe to abolish this unclean Dragon generation.
But though it consisted not with his wisdom to destroy his
own creatures, yet the heavy sufferings of the poor Dwarfs
so moved his compassion, that anon he created the Giants,
ordaining them to fight these Dragons, and if not root them
out, at least lessen their numbers.
'"Now, no sooner had the Giants got moderately well
through with the Dragons, than their hearts also began to
wax wanton; and, in their presumption, they practised much
tyranny, especially on the good little Dwarfs, who then once
more in their need turned to the Lord; and he, by the power
of his hand, created the Knights, who were to make war on
the Giants and Dragons, and to live in concord with the
Dwarfs. Hereby was the work of creation completed on this
side: and it is plain, that henceforth Giants and Dragons, as
well as Knights and Dwarfs, have always maintained themselves
in being. From this, my friend, it will be clear to thee, that
we are of the oldest race on the Earth; a circumstance which
does us honour, but, at the same time, brings great disadvantage
along with it.
'"For as there is nothing in the world that can endure forever,
but all that has once been great, must become little and
fade, it is our lot also, that ever since the creation of the
world we have been waning and growing smaller; especially
the royal family, on whom, by reason of their pure blood, this
destiny presses with the heaviest force. To remedy this
evil, our wise teachers have many years ago devised the
expedient of sending forth a Princess of the royal house from
time to time into the world, to wed some honourable Knight,
that so the Dwarf progeny may be reflected, and saved from
entire decay.'
"Though my fair one related these things with an air of
the utmost sincerity, I looked at her hesitatingly; for it
seemed as if she meant to palm some fable on me. As to her
own dainty lineage, I had not the smallest doubt: but that
she should have laid hold of me in place of a Knight, occasioned
some mistrust; seeing I knew myself too well to suppose
that my ancestors had come into the world by an immediate
act of creation.
"I concealed my wonder and scepticism, and asked her
kindly: 'But tell me, my dear child, how hast thou attained
this large and stately shape? For I know few women that in
richness of form can compare with thee.'-' Thou shalt hear,'
replied she. 'It is a settled maxim in the Council of the
Dwarf Kings, that this extraordinary step be forborne as long
as it possibly can; which, indeed, I cannot but say is quite
natural and proper. Perhaps they might have lingered still
longer, had not my brother, born after me, come into the
world so exceedingly small, that the nurses actually lost him
out of his swaddling-clothes, and no creature yet knows
whither he is gone. On this occurrence, unexampled in the
annals of Dwarfdom, the Sages were assembled; and without
more ado, the resolution was taken, and I sent out in quest of
a husband.'
"'The resolution!' exclaimed I: 'that is all extremely
well. One can resolve, one can take his resolution: but to
give a Dwarf this heavenly shape, how did your Sages manage
that? '
" 'It had been provided for already,' said she, 'by our
ancestors. In the royal treasury lay a monstrous gold ring.
I speak of it as it then appeared to me, when I saw it in my
childhood: for it was this same ring, which I have here on my
finger. We now went to work as follows:
"'I was informed of all that awaited me; and instructed
what I had to do and to forbear. A splendid palace, after the
pattern of my father's favourite summer-residence, was then
got ready: a main edifice, wings, and whatever else you could
think of. It stood at the entrance of a large rock-cleft, which
it decorated in the handsomest style. On the appointed day,
our court moved thither, my parents also and myself. The
army paraded; and four-and - twenty priests, not without
difficulty, carried on a costly litter the mysterious ring. It
was placed on the threshold of the building, just within the
spot where you entered. Many ceremonies were observed;
and after a pathetic farewell, I proceeded to my task. I stept
forward to the ring; laid my finger on it; and that instant
began perceptibly to wax in stature. In a few moments I
had reached my present size; and then I put the ring on my
finger. But now, in the twinkling of an eye, the doors,
windows, gates flapped-to; the wings drew up into the body
of the edifice; instead of a palace, stood a little Box beside
me; which I forthwith lifted and carried off with me; not
without a pleasant feeling in being so tall and strong; still,
indeed, a dwarf to trees and mountains, to streams and tracts
of land; yet a giant to grass and herbs; and above all to
ants, from whom we Dwarfs, not being always on the best
terms with them, often suffer considerable annoyance.
"'How it fared with me on my pilgrimage, I might tell
thee at great length. Suffice it to say I tried many; but no
one save thou seemed worthy of being honoured to renovate
and perpetuate the line of the glorious Eckwald.'
"In the course of these narrations, my head had now and
then kept wagging, without myself having absolutely shaken
it. I put several questions; to which I received no very satisfactory
answers; on the contrary, I learned, to my great
affliction, that after what had happened, she must needs return
to her parents. She had hopes still, she said, of getting back
to me: but for the present, it was indispensably necessary to
present herself at court; as otherwise, both for her and me,
there was nothing but utter ruin. The purses would soon cease
to pay; and who knew what all the consequences would be?
"On hearing that our money would run shod, I inquired
no farther into consequences: I shrugged my shoulders; I was
silent, and she seemed to understand me.
"We now packed up, and got into our carriage; the Box
standing opposite us; in which, however, I could still see no
symptoms of a palace. In this way we proceeded several
stages. Post-money and drink-money were readily and richly
paid from the pouches to the right and left; till at last we
reached a mountainous district; and no sooner had we alighted
here, than my fair one walked forward, directing me to follow
her with the Box. She led me by rather steep paths to a
narrow plot of green ground, through which a clear brook now
gushed in little falls, now ran in quiet windings. She pointed
to a little knoll; bade me set the Box down there, then said:
, Farewell! Thou wilt easily find the way back; remember
me; I hope to see thee again.'
" At this moment, I felt as if I could not leave her. She
was just now in one of her fine days, or if you will, her fine
hours. Alone with so fair a being, on the greensward, among
grass and flowers, girt in by rocks, waters murmuring round
you, what heart could have remained insensible! I came
forward to seize her hand, to clasp her in my arms: but she
motioned me back; threatening me, though still kindly
enough, with great danger, if I did not instantly withdraw.
'"Is there no possibility, then,' exclaimed I, 'of my staying
with thee, of thy keeping me beside thee?' These words I
uttered with such rueful tones and gestures, that she seemed
touched by them, and after some thought confessed to me that
a continuance of our union was not entirely impossible. Who
happier than I! My importunity, which increased every
moment, compelled her at last to come out with her scheme,
and inform me that if I too could resolve on becoming as
little as I had once seen her, I might still remain with her, be
admitted to her house, her kingdom, her family. The proposal
was not altogether to my mind; yet at this moment I
positively could not tear myself away; so, having already for
a good while been accustomed to the marvellous, and being at
all times prone to bold enterprises, I closed with her offer, and
said she might do with me as she pleased.
••I was thereupon directed to hold out the little finger of
my right hand: she placed her own against it; then with her
left hand, she quite softly pulled the ring from her finger, and
let it run along mine. That instant, I felt a violent twinge
on my finger: the ring shrunk together, and tortured me
horribly. I gave a loud cry, and caught round me for my fair
one, but she had disappeared. What state of mind I was in
during this moment, I find no words to express; so I have
nothing more to say, but that I very soon, in my miniature
size, found myself beside my fair one in a wood of grass-stalks.
The joy of meeting after this short yet most strange separation,
or, if you will, of this reunion without separation,
exceeds all conception. I fell on her neck; she replied to my
caresses, and the little pair was as happy as the large one.
"With some difficulty, we now mounted a hill: I say
difficulty, because the sward had become for us an almost
impenetrable forest. Yet at length we reached a bare space;
and how surprised was I at perceiving there a large bolted
mass; which, ere long, I could not but recognise for the Box,
in the same state as when I had set it down.
"'Go up to it, my friend,' said she, 'and do but knock with
the ring: thou shalt see wonders.' I went up accordingly;
and no sooner had I rapped, than I did, in fact, witness the
greatest wonder. Two wings came jutting out; and at the
same time there fell, like scales and chips, various pieces this
way and that; while doors, windows, colonnades, and all that
belongs to a complete palace at once came into view.
"If ever you have seen one of Rontchen's desks; how, at
one pull, a multitude of springs and latches get in motion, and
writing-board and writing-materials, letter and money compartments,
all at once, or in quick succession, start forward,
you will partly conceive how this palace unfolded itself, into
which my sweet attendant now introduced me. In the large
saloon, I directly recognised the fireplace which I had formerly
seen from above, and the chair in which she had then been
sitting. And on looking up, I actually fancied I could still
see something of the chink in the dome, through which I had
peeped in. I spare you the description of the rest: in a word,
all was spacious, splendid, and tasteful. Scarcely had I
recovered from my astonishment, when I heard afar off a
sound of military music. My better half sprang up; and with
rapture announced to me the approach of His Majesty her
Father. We stept out to the threshold, and here beheld a
magnificent procession moving towards us, from a considerable
deft in the rock. Soldiers, servants, officers of state and
glittering courtiers, followed in order. At last you observed
a golden throng, and in the midst of it the King himself. So
soon as the whole procession had drawn up before the palace,
the King, with his nearest retinue, stept forward. His loving
daughter hastened out to him, pulling me along with her.
We threw ourselves at his feet; he raised me very graciously;
and on coming to stand before him, I perceived, that in this
little world I was still the most considerable figure. We proceeded
together to the palace; where His Majesty, in presence
of his whole court, was pleased to welcome me with a well-studied
oration, in which he expressed his surprise at finding
us here: acknowledged me as his son-in-law, and appointed
the nuptial ceremony to take place on the morrow.
"A cold sweat went over me as I heard him speak of
marriage; for I dreaded this even more than music, which
.otherwise appeared to me the most hateful thing on Earth.
Your music-makers, I used to say, enjoy at least the conceit of
being in unison with each other, and working in concord; for
when they have tweaked and tuned long enough, grating our
ears with all manner of screeches, they believe in their hearts
that the matter is now adjusted, and one instrument accurately
suited to the other. The band-master himself is in this happy
delusion; and so they set forth joyfully, though still tearing
Our nerves to pieces. In the marriage-state, even this is not
the case: for although it is but a duet, and you might think
two voices, or even two instruments, might in some degree be
attuned to each other, yet this happens very seldom; for while
the man gives out one tone, the wife directly takes a higher
one, and the man again a higher; and so it rises from the
chamber to the choral pitch, and farther and farther, till at
last wind-instruments themselves cannot reach it. And now,
as harmonical music itself is an offence to me, it will not be
surprising that disharmonical should be a thing which I cannot
endure.
"Of the festivities in which the day was spent, I shall and
can say nothing; for I paid small heed to any of them. The
sumptuous victuals, the generous wine, the royal amusements,
I could not relish. I kept thinking and considering what I
was to do. Here, however, there was but little to be considered.
I determined, once for all, to take myself away, and
hide somewhere. Accordingly, I succeeded in reaching the
chink of a stone, where I intrenched and concealed myself as
well as might be. My first care after this was to get the
unhappy ring off my finger; an enterprise, however, which
would by no means prosper, for, on the contrary, I felt that
every pull I gave, the metal grew straiter and cramped me
with violent pains, which again abated so soon as I desisted
from my purpose.
"Early in the morning I awoke (for my little person had
slept, and very soundly); and was just stepping out to look
farther about me, when I felt a kind of rain coming on.
Through the grass, flowers and leaves, there fell as it were
something like sand and grit in large quantities: but what was
my horror when the whole of it became alive, and an innumerable
host of Ants rushed down on me! No sooner did they
observe me, than they made an attack on all sides; and
though I defended myself stoutly and gallantly enough, they
at last so hemmed me in, so nipped and pinched me, that I
was glad to hear them calling to surrender. I surrendered
instantly and wholly; whereupon an Ant of respectable stature
approached me with courtesy, nay, with reverence, and even recommended
itself to my good graces. I learned that the Ants
had now become allies of my father-in-law, and by him been
called out in the present emergency, and commissioned to fetch
me back. Here, then, was little I in the hands of creatures
still less. I had nothing for it but looking forward to the
marriage; nay, I must now thank Heaven, if my father-in-law
were not wroth, if my fair one had not taken the sullens.
"Let me skip over the whole train of ceremonies; in a
word, we were wedded. Gaily and joyously as matters went,
there were nevertheless solitary hours, in which you were led
astray into reflection; and now there happened to me something
which had never happened before: what, and how, you
shall learn.
"Everything about me was completely adapted to my
present form and wants; the bottles and glasses were in a fit
ratio to a little toper, nay, if you will, better measure, in
proportion, than with us. In my tiny palate, the dainty
titbits tasted excellently; a kiss from the little mouth of my
spouse was still the most charming thing in nature; and I
will not deny that novelty made all these circumstances highly
agreeable. Unhappily, however, I had not forgotten my
former situation. I felt within me a scale of bygone greatness;
and it rendered me restless and cheerless. Now, for the
first time, did I understand what the philosophers might mean
by their Ideal, which they say so plagues the mind of man. I
had an Ideal of myself; and often in dreams I appeared as a
giant. In short, my wife, my ring, my dwarf figure, and so
many other bonds and restrictions, made me utterly unhappy;
so that I began to think seriously about obtaining my
deliverance.
"Being persuaded that the whole magic lay in the ring, I
resolved on IiIing this asunder. From the court-jeweller,
accordingly, I borrowed some files. By good luck, I was
left-handed, as indet'd, throughout my whole life, I had never
<hue aught in the right-handed way. I stood tightly to the
work: it was not small; for the golden hoop, so thin as it
appeared, had grown proportionably thicker in contracting
from its former length. All vacant hours I privately applied
to this task: and at last, the metal being nearly through, I
was provident enough to step out of doors. This was a wise
measure; for all at once the golden hoop started sharply from
my finger, and my frame shot aloft with such violence, that I
actually fancied I should dash against the sky; and, at all
events, I must have bolted through the dome of our palace;
nay, perhaps, in my new awkwardness, have destroyed this
summer-residence altogether.
"Here, then, was I standing again; in truth, so much the
larger, but also, as it seemed to me, so much the more foolish
and helpless. On recovering from my stupefaction, I observed
the royal strong-box lying near me, which I found to be
moderately heavy, as I lifted it, and carried it down the footpath
to the next stage; where I directly ordered horses, and
set forth. By the road, I soon made trial of the two side-pouches.
Instead of money, which appeared to be run out,
I found a little key: it belonged to the strong-box, in which I
got some moderate compensation. So long as this held out, I
made use of the carriage: by and by I sold it, and proceeded
by the Diligence. The strong-box too I at length cast from
me, having no hope of its ever filling again. And thus in the
end, though after a considerable circuit, I again returned to
the kitchen-hearth, to the landlady and the cook, where you
were first introduced to me."

CHAPTER 17

LENARDO was overwhelmed with business, his writing-office
in the greatest activity; clerks and secretaries finding no
moment's rest; while Wilhelm and Friedrich, strolling over
field and meadow, were entertaining each other with the most
pleasant conversation.

And here, first of all, as necessarily happens between friends
meeting after some separation, the question was started: How
far they had altered in the interim? Friedrich would have it
that Wilhelm was exactly the same as before: to Wilhelm
again it seemed that his young friend, though no whit abated
in mirth and discursiveness, was somewhat more staid in his
manner. "It were pity," interrupted Friedrich, " if the father
of three children, the husband of an exemplary matron, had
not likewise gained a little in dignity of bearing."
Now, also, it came to light, that all the persons whom we
got acquainted with in the Apprenticeship were still living and
well; nay, better than before; being now in full and decisive
activity; each, in his own way, associated with many fellow-labourers,
and striving towards the noblest aim. Of this,
however, it is not for the present permitted us to impart any
more precise information; as, in a little book like ours, reserve
and secrecy may be no unseemly qualities.
But whatever, in the course of this confidential conversation,
transpired respecting the Society in which we now are, as
their more intimate relations, maxims and objects, by little
and little, came to view, it is our duty and opportunity to
disclose in this place.
"The whim of Emigration," such was the substance of
Friedrich's talk on this matter, " the whim of Emigration may,
in straitened and painful circumstances, very naturally lay hold
of men; if particular cases chance to be favoured by a happy
issue, this whim will, in the general mind, rise to the rank of
passion; as we have seen, as we still see, and withal cannot
deny that we, in our time, have been befooled by such a
delusion ourselves.
"Emigration takes place in the treacherous hope of an improvement
in our circumstances; and it is too often counterbalanced
by a subsequent emigration; since, go where you
may, you still find yourself in a conditional world, and if not
constrained to a new emigration, are yet inclined in secret to
cherish such a desire.
"We have therefore bound ourselves to renounce all Emigration,
and to devote ourselves to Migration. Here one does
not turn his back on his native country forever; but hopes,
even after the greatest circuit, to arrive there again, richer,
wiser, cleverer, better, and whatever else such a way of life can
make him. Now, in society all things are easier, more certain
in their accomplishment, than to an individual; in which
sense, my friend, consider what thou shalt observe here; for
whatever thou mayest see, all and every part of it is meant to
forward a great movable connexion among active and sufficient
men of all classes.
"But as where men are, manners are too, I may explain
thus much of our constitution by way of preliminary: When
two of our number anywhere by accident meet, they conduct
themselves towards each other according to their rank and
fashion, according to custom of handicraft or art, or by some
other such mode adapted to their mutual relations. Three
meeting together are considered as a Unity, which governs
itself: but if a fourth join them, they instantly elect the
BOND, one chief and three subjects. This Bond, however
many more combine with them, can still only be a single
newly-elected person; for, in the great[ as in the small scale,
co-regents are found to be mutually obstructive.
"Thou mayest observe that Lenardo unites, in this way,
more than a hundred active and able men; unites, employs,
calls home, sends forth; as tomorrow, ain important day with
us, thou wilt perceive and understand. Thou wilt then see the
Bond dissolved; the multitude divided into smaller societies,
and the Bond multiplied; all the rest will at the same time
become clear to thee.
"But, for the present, I invite thee to a short bout of reading.
Here, under the shadow of these whispering trees, by
the side of this still-flowing water, let us peruse a story, this
little paper, which Lenardo, from the rich treasures of his
Collection, has intrusted to me; that so both of us may see
thoroughly what a difference there is between a mad pilgrimage,
such as many lead in the world, and a well-meditated, happily-commenced
undertaking like ours, of which I shall at this
time say no more in praise."
The quaint, fitful and most dainty story of The Foolish
Pilgrimes8, with which our two friends now occupied their
morning, we feel ourselves constrained, not unreluctantly, by
certain grave calculations, to reserve for some future and
better season.

CHAPTER 18

LENARDO having freed himself from business for an hour,
took dinner with his friends; and at table he began to explain
to them his family circumstances. His eldest sister was
married. A rich brother-in-law, to the great satisfaction of
the Uncle, had undertaken the management of all the estates;
with him Valerina's husband was stoutly cooperating; they
were labouring on the great scale; strengthening their enterprises
by connexion with distant countries and places.
Here likewise our oldest friends once more make their
appearance: Lothario, Werner, the Abbe, are on their side
proceeding in the highest diligence, while Jarno occupies himself
with mining. A general Insurance has been instituted;
we discern a vast property in Land; and on this depends the
existence of a large Wandering Society, the individual members
of which, under the condition of the greatest possible usefulness,
are recommended to all the world, are forwarded in every
undertaking, and secured against all mischances; while they
again, as scattered colonists, may be supposed to react on their
mother country with favourable influences.
Throughout all this, we observe Lenardo recognised as the
wandering Bond; in smaller and greater combinations, he, for
most part, is elected: on him is placed the most unrestricted
confidence.
So far had the disclosure, partly from Lenardo, partly from
Friedrich, proceeded without let, when both of them on a
sudden became silent, each seeming to have scruples about
communicating more. After a short pause, Wilhelm addressed
them, and cried: "What new secret again suddenly overshadows
the friendliest explanation? "Will you again leave
me in the lurch?"
"Not at all!" exclaimed Friedrich. "Do but hear me!
He has found the Nut-brown Maid; and for her sake--"
"Not for her sake," interrupted Lenardo.
"And just for her sake!" persisted Friedrich. "Do not
deceive yourself: for her sake you are changing yourself into
a lawful vagabond; as some others" of us, not, in truth, for
the most praiseworthy purposes, have in times past changed
ourselves into lawless vagrants."
"Let us go along calmly," said Lenardo: "our friend here
must be made acquainted with the state of our affairs; but, in
the first place, let him have a little touch of discipline for himself.
You had found the Nut-brown Maid; but to me you
refused the knowledge of her abode. For this I will not blame
you: but what good did it do? To discover this secret, I
was passionately incited; and, notwithstanding your sagacious
caution, I at length came upon the right trace. You have
seen the good Maiden yourself; her circumstances you have
accurately investigated; and yet you did not judge them
rightly. It is only the Loving who feels and discovers what
the Beloved wishes and wants; he can read it in her from her
deepest heart. Let this at present suffice: for explanation we
have no time left today. Tomorrow I have the hottest press
of business to front: next day we part. But for your information,
composure and participating interest, accept this copy
of a week from my Journal: it is the best legacy which I can
leave you. By reading it, you will not indeed become wiser
than you are and than I am: but let this for the present
suffice. The nearest future, or a more remote one, will arrange
and direct: that is to say, in this case, as in so many others,
we know not what is to become of us."
By way of dessert, Lenardo received a packet, at the opening
of which, he, with some tokens of surprise, handed a letter to
Wilhelm. "What secrets, what speedy concerns can sister
Hersilia have with our friend? 'To be delivered instantly,
and opened privately, without the presence of anyone, friend
or stranger!' let us give him all possible convenience, Friedrich;
let us withdraw!" Wilhelm hastily broke open the
sheet, and read:
Hersilia to Wilhelm
Wherever this letter may reach you, my noble friend, to a
certainty it will find you in some nook, where you are striving
in vain to hide from yourself. By making you acquainted with
my two fair dames, I have done you a sorry service.
But wherever you may be lurking, and doubtless it will
search you out, my promise is, that if, after reading this letter,
you do not forthwith leap from your seat, and, like a pious
pilgrim, appear in my presence without delay, I must declare
you to be the manliest of all men: that is to say, the one most
completely void of the finest property belonging to our sex; I
mean Curiosity, which at this moment is afflicting me in its
sharpest concentration.
In one word, then, your Casket has now got its key; this,
however, none but you and I are to know. How it came into
my hands, let me now tell you.
Some days ago, our Man of Law gets despatches from a
distant Tribunal; wherein he was asked if, at such and such
a time, there had not been a boy prowling about our neighbourhood,
who had played all manner of tricks, and at length,
in a rash enterprise, lost his jacket.
By the way this brat was described, no doubt remained with
us but he was Fitz; the gay comrade whom Felix talked so
much of, and so often wished back to play with him.
Now, for the present, those Authorities request that said
article of dress may be sent to them, if it is still in existence;
as the boy, at last involved in judicial examinations, refers to
it. Of this demand our Lawyer chances to make mention; he
shows us the little frock before sending it off.
Some good or evil spirit whispers me to grope the breastpocket:
a little angular prickly Something comes into my
hand; I, so timorous, ticklish and startlish as I usually am,
clench my hand, clench it, hold my peace, and the jerkin is
sent away. Directly, of all feelings, the strangest seizes me.
At the first stolen glance, I saw, I guessed that it was the key
of your little Box. And now came wondrous scruples of conscience,
and all sorts of moral doubts. To discover, to give
back my windfall, was impossible; what have those long-wigged
judges to do with it, when it may be so useful to my
friend! And then, again, all manner of questions about Right
and Duty begin lifting up their voices; but I would not let
them outvote me.
From this you perceive into what a situation my friendship
for you has reduced me: a choice faculty develops itself, all on
a sudden, for your sake; what an occurrence! May it not be
something more than Friendship that so holds the balance of
my conscience? Between guilt and curiosity I am wonderfully
discomposed; I have a hundred whims and stories about what
may follow: Law and Judgment will not be trifled with.
Hersilia, the careless, and as occasion served, capricious Hersilia,
entangled in a criminal process, for this is the scope and
tendency of it! And what can I do, but think of the friend
for whose sake I suffer all this? I thought of you before, yet
with pauses: but now I think of you incessantly; now when
my heart throbs, and I think of the Eighth Commandment, I
must turn to you, as to the Saint, who has caused this sin, and
will also procure me an absolution: thus the opening of the
Casket is the only thing that can compose me. My curiosity
is growing stronger and doubly strong: come and bring the
Casket with you! To what judgment-seat it properly belongs
we will make out between us: till then let it remain between
us; no one must know of it, be who he will.
But now, in conclusion, look here, my friend! And tell
me, what say you to this picture of the riddle? Does it not
remind you of Arrows with barbs? God help us! But the
Box must first stand unopened between you and me; and then
when opened, tell us farther what we have to do. I wish there
were nothing whatever in it; and who knows what all I wish,
and what all I could tell: but do you look at this. and hasten
so much the faster to get upon the road.
Friedrich returned more gay and lively than he had gone:
"Good news! "cried he: "good luck! Lenardo has received
some pretty letters, to facilitate the parting: credit more than
sufficient; and thou too shalt have thy share in it. Fortune
herself surely knows not what she is about; for once in her
time she has done wise worthy fellows a favour."
Hereupon he handed to his friend some' clipped fragments
of maps, with directions where they were to be produced, and
changed for hard cash or bills, as he might choose. Wilhelm
was obliged to accept them, though he kept assuring his companion,
that for the present he had no need of such things.
"Then others will need them!" cried Friedrich: "constrain
not thy good feelings; and wherever thou art, appear as a
benefactor. But now come along, let us have a look at this
manuscript: it is long till night; one tires of talking and
listening, so I have begged some writing for our entertainment.
Every leaf in Lenardo's Archives is penned in the spirit of the
whole: in giving me this he said: ' Well, take it and read it;
our friend will acquire more confidence in our Society and
Bond, the more good members he becomes acquainted with.'"
The two then retired to a cheerful spot; and Friedrich read,
enlivening with much natural energy and mirth what he found
set down for him.
WHO CAN THE TRAITOR BE?
"No! no!" exclaimed he, violently and hastily rushing into
the chamber allotted him, and setting down his candle: "No!
it is impossible! But whither shall I turn? For the first
time, I think otherwise than he; for the first time, I feel, I
wish otherwise. O father! couldst thou but be present
invisibly, couldst thou but look through and through me,
thou wouldst see that I am still the same, still thy true,
obedient, affectionate son. Yet to say No! To contradict
my father's dearest, long-cherished wish! How shall I disclose
it? How shall I express it? No, I cannot marry Julia!
While I speak of it, I shudder. And how shall I appear
before him, tell him this, him the good, kind father? He
looks at me with astonishment, without speaking: the
prudent, clear-sighted, gifted man can find no words. Woe
is me! Ah, I know well to whom I would confide this pain,
this perplexity; who it is I would choose for my advocate!
Before all others, thou, Lucinda! And I would first tell thee
how I love thee, how I give myself to thee, and pressingly
entreat thee to speak for me; and if thou canst love me
again, if thou wilt be mine, to speak for us both."
To explain this short pithy monologue will require some
details.
Professor N. of N. had an only boy of singular beauty,
whom, till the child's eighth year, he had left entirely in
charge of his wife. This excellent woman had directed the
hours and days of her son, in living, learning, and all good
behaviour. She died; and the father instantly felt, that to
prosecute this parental tutelage was impossible. In their
lifetime, all had been harmony between the parents; they
had laboured for a common aim, had determined in concert
what was next to be done; and the mother had not wanted
skill to execute wisely, by herself, what the two had planned
together. Double and treble was now the widower's anxiety,
seeing, as he could not but daily see, that for the sons of
professors, even in universities, it was only by a sort of
miracle that a happy education could be expected.
In this strait he applied to his friend the Oberamtmann of
R., with whom he had already been treating of plans for a
closer alliance between their families. The Oberamtmann
gave him counsel and assistance; so the son was established
in one of those Institutions, which still flourish in Germany,
and where charge is taken of the whole man, and body, soul
and spirit are trained with all attention.
The son was thus provided for; the father, however, felt
himself very lonely: robbed of his wife; shut out from the
cheerful presence of the boy, whom he had seen, without
effort of his, growing up in such desirable culture. But here
again the friendship of the Oberamtmann served him in
good stead; the distance of their abodes vanished before his
affection, his desire for movement, for diversion of thought.
In this hospitable home the widowed Man of Letters found,
in a family-circle motherless like his own, two beautiful little
daughters growing up in diverse loveliness; a state of things
which more and more confirmed the fathers in their purpose,
in their hope, of one day seeing their families united in the
most joyful bonds.
They lived under the sway of a mild good Prince: the
meritorious Oberamtmann was certain of his post during life;
and in the appointment of a successor his recommendation
was likely to go far. And now, according to the wise family
arrangement, sanctioned also by the Minister, Lucidor was to
train himself for the important office of his future father-in-law.
This in consequence he did from step to step. Nothing
was neglected in communicating to him all sorts of knowledge,
in developing in him all sorts of activity, which the State in
any case requires: practice in rigorous judicial law; and also
in the laxer sort, where prudence and address find their proper
field; foresight for daily ways and means; not excluding
higher and more comprehensive views, yet all tending towards
practical life, and so as with effect and certainty to be
employed in its concerns.
With such purposes had Lucidor spent his school-years:
by his father and his patron, he was now warned to make
ready for the university. In all departments he already
showed the fairest talents; and to Nature he was farther
indebted for the singular happiness of inclining, out of love
for his father, out of respect for his friend, to turn his capabilities,
first from obedience, then from conviction, on that
very object to which he was directed. He was placed in a
foreign university; and here, both by his own account in his
letters, and by the testimony of his teachers and overseers,
he continued walking in the path that led towards his
appointed goal. It was only objected to him, that in certain
cases he had been too impetuously brave. The father shook
his head at this; the Oberamtmann nodded. Who would
not have been proud of such a son?
Meanwhile, the two daughters, Julia and Lucinda, were
waxing in stature and graces. Julia, the younger, waggish,
lovely, unstable, highly entertaining; the other difficult to
portray, for in her sincerity and purity she represented all
that we prize most in woman. Visits were paid and repaid;
and, in the Professor's house, Julia found the most inexhaustible
amusement.
Geography, which he failed not to enliven by Topography,
belonged to his province; and no sooner did Julia cast her
eyes on any of the volumes, of which a whole series from
Homann's Warehouse were standing there, than the cities
all and sundry had to be mustered, judged, preferred or
rejected: all havens especially obtained her favour; other
towns, to acquire even a slight approval from her, must stand
forth well supplied with steeples, domes and minarets.
Julia's father often left her for weeks to the care of his
tried friend. She was actually advancing in knowledge of
her science; and already the inhabited world, in its main
features, in its chief points and places, stood before her with
some accuracy and distinctness. The garbs of foreign nations
attracted her peculiar attention; and often when her foster-father
asked her in jest: If among the many young handsome
men who were passing to and fro before her window, there
was not some one or other whom she liked? she would answer:
"Yes, indeed, if he do but look odd enough." And as our
young students are seldom behindhand in this particular, she
had often occasion to take notice of individuals among them:
they brought to her mind the costume of foreign nations;
however, she declared in the end, that if she was to bestow
her undivided attention on anyone, he must be at least a
Greek, equipped in the complete fashion of his country; on
which account, also, she longed to be at some Leipzig Fair,
where, as she understood, such persons were to be seen
walking the streets.
After his dry and often irksome labours, our Teacher had
now no happier moments than those he spent in mirthfully
instructing her; triumphing withal, in secret, that a being
so attractive, ever entertaining, ever entertained, was in the
end to be his own daughter. For the rest, the two fathers
had mutually agreed, that no hint of their purpose should be
communicated to the girls; from Lucidor, also, it was kept
secret.
Thus had years passed away, as indeed they very lightly
pass; Lucidor presented himself completed, having stood all
trials to the joy even of the superior overseers, who wished
nothing more heartily than being able, with a good conscience,
to fulfil the hopes of old, worthy, favoured and deserving
servants.
And so the business had at length by quiet regular steps
come so far, that Lucidor, after having demeaned himself in
subordinate stations to universal satisfaction, was now to be
placed in a very advantageous post, suitable to his wishes and
merits, and lying just midway between the University and
the Oberamtmannship.
The father now spoke with his son about Julia, of whom he
had hitherto only hinted, as about his bride and wife, without
any doubt or condition; congratulating him on the happiness
of having appropriated such a jewel to himself. The Professor
saw in fancy his daughter-in-law again from time to
time in his house; occupied with charts, plans and views of
cities: the son recalled to mind the gay and most lovely
creature, who, in times of childhood, had, by her rogueries as
by her kindliness, always delighted him. Lucidor was now
to ride over to the Oberamtmann's to take a closer view of
the full-grown fair one; and, for a few weeks, to surrender
himself to the habitudes and familiarity of her household.
If the young people, as was to be hoped, should speedily
agree, the Professor was forthwith to appear, that so a
solemn betrothment might forever secure the anticipated
happiness.
Lucidor arrives, is received with the friendliest welcome,
a chamber is allotted him; he arranges himself there, and
appears. And now he finds, besides the members of the family
already known to us, a grown-up son; misbred certainly, yet
shrewd and good-natured; so that if you liked to take him as
the jesting Counsellor of the party, he fitted not ill with the
rest. There belonged, moreover, to the house, a very old, but
healthy and gayhearted man; quiet, wise, discreet; completing
his life, as it were, and here and there requiring a little
help. Directly after Lucidor, too, there had arrived another
stranger; no longer young, of an impressive aspect, dignified,
thoroughly well-bred, and, by his acquaintance with the most
distant quarters of the world, extremely entertaining. He
was called Antoni.
Julia received her announced bridegroom in fit order, yet
with an excess rather than a defect of frankness: Lucinda, on
the other hand, did the honours of the house, as her sister did
those of herself. So passed the day; peculiarly agreeable to
all, only to Lucidor not: he, at all times silent, had been
forced, that he might avoid sinking dumb entirely, to employ
himself in asking questions; and in this attitude no one
appears to advantage.
Throughout he had been absent-minded; for at the first
glance he had felt, not aversion or repugnance, yet estrangement,
towards Julia: Lucinda, on the contrary, attracted him,
so that he trembled every time she looked at him with her
full pure peaceful eyes.
Thus hard bestead, he reached his chamber the first night,
and gave vent to his heart in that soliloquy with which we
began. But to explain this sufficiently, to show how the
violence of such an emphatic speech agrees with what we know
of him already, another little statement will be necessary.
Lucidor was of a deep character; and for most part had
something else in his mind than what the present scene
required: hence talk and social conversation would never
prosper rightly with him; he felt this, and was wont to continue
silent, except when the topic happened to be particular,
on some department which he had completely studied, and of
which whatever he needed was at all times ready. Besides
this, in his early years at school, and later at the university,
he had been deceived in friends, and had wasted the effusions
of his heart unhappily; hence every communication of his
feelings seemed to him a doubtful step, and doubting destroys
all such communication. With his father he was used to
speak only in unison; therefore his full heart 'poured itself out
in monologues, so soon as he was by himself.
Next morning he had summoned up his resolution; and
yet he almost lost heart and composure again, when Julia met
him with still more friendliness, gaiety and frankness than
ever. She had much to ask; about his journeys by land and
journeys by water; how, when a student, with his knapsack
on his back, he had roamed and climbed through Switzerland,
nay, crossed the Alps themselves. And now of those fair
islands on the great Southern Lake she had much to say; and
then backwards, the Rhine must be accompanied from his
primary origin; at first, through most undelicious regions, and
so downwards through many an alternation, till at length,
between Maynz and Coblenz, you find it still worth while
respectfully to dismiss the old River from his last confinement,
into the wide world, into the sea.
Lucidor, in the course of this recital, felt himself much
lightened in heart; he narrated willingly and well, so that
Julia at last exclaimed in rapture: "It is thus that our other
self should be!" At which phrase Lucidor again felt startled
and frightened; thinking he saw in it an allusion to their
future pilgrimage in common through life.
From his narrative duty, however, he was soon relieved: for
the stranger, Antoni, very speedily overshadowed all mountain
streams, and rocky banks, and rivers whether hemmed in or
left at liberty. Under his guidance you now went forward to
Genoa; Livorno lay at no great distance; whatever was most
interesting in the country you took with you as fair spoil;
Naples, too, was a place you should see before you died; and
then, in truth, remained Constantinople, which also was by
no means to be neglected. Antoni's descriptions of the wide
world carried the imagination of every hearer along with him,
though Antoni himself introduced little fire into the subject.
Julia, quite enraptured, was still nowise satisfied: she longed
for Alexandria, Cairo, and above all, for the Pyramids; of
which, by the 'lessons of her intended father-in-law, she had
gained some moderate knowledge.
Lucidor next night (he had scarcely shut his door; the
candle he had not put down) exclaimed: "Now bethink thee,
then: it is growing serious! Thou hast studied and meditated
many serious things: what avails thy law-learning, if thou
canst not act like a man of law? View thyself as a delegate,
forget thy own feelings, and do what it would behove thee to
do for another. It thickens and closes round me horribly!
The stranger is plainly come for the sake of Lucinda; she
shows him the fairest, noblest social and hospitable attentions:
that little fool would run through the world with anyone for
anything or nothing. Besides, she is a wag; her interest
in cities and countries is a farce, by which she keeps us in
silence. But why do I look at the affair so perplexedly, so
narrowly? Is not the Oberamtmann himself the most judicious,
the clearest, the kindest mediator? Thou wilt tell him how
thou feelest and thinkest; and he will think with thee, if not
likewise feel. With thy father he has all influence. And is
not the one as well as the other his daughter? What would
this Antoni the Traveller with Lucinda, who is born for
home, to be happy and to make happy? Let the wavering
quicksilver fasten itself to the Wandering Jew: that will be a
right match."
Next morning Lucidor came down, with the firm purpose
of speaking with the father; and waiting on him expressly
to that end, at the hour when he knew him to be disengaged.
How great was his vexation, his perplexity, on learning that
the Oberamtmann had been called away on business, and was
not expected till the day after the morrow! Julia, on this
occasion, seemed to be expressly in her travelling fit; she
kept by the world-wanderer, and, with some sportive hits at
domestic economy, gave up Lucidor to Lucinda. If our friend,
viewing this noble maiden from a certain distance, and under
one general impression, had already, with his whole heart,
loved her, he failed not now in this nearest nearness to discover
with double and treble vividness in detail, all that had before
as a whole attracted him.
The good old friend of the family now brought himself
forward, in place of the absent father: he too had lived, and
loved; and was now, after many hard buffetings and bruises
of life, resting at last, refreshed and cheerful, beside the friend
of his youth. He enlivened the conversation; and especially
expatiated on perplexities in choice of wives; relating several
remarkable examples of explanations, both in time and too
late. Lucinda appeared in all her splendour. She admitted:
That accident, in all departments of life, and so likewise in
the business of marriage, often produced the best result; yet
that it was finer and prouder when one could say he owed
his happiness to himself, to the silent calm conviction of his
heart, to a noble purpose and a quick determination. Tears
stood in Lucidor's eyes as he applauded this sentiment:
directly afterwards, the two ladies went out. The old president
liked well to deal in illustrative histories; and so the
conversation expanded itself into details of pleasant instances,
which, however, touched our hero so closely, that none but a
youth of as delicate manners as his could have refrained from
breaking out with his secret. He did break out, so soon as he
was by himself.
"I have constrained myself!" exclaimed he: "with such
perplexities I will not vex my good father: I have forborne to
speak; for I see in this worthy old man the substitute of both
fathers. To him will I speak; to him disclose the whole: he
will surely bring it about; he has already almost spoken what
I wish. Will he censure in the individual case what he praises
in general? Tomorrow I visit him: I must give vent to this
oppression."
At breakfast the old man was not present; last night he
had spoken, it appeared, too much; had sat too long, and
likewise drunk a drop or two of wine beyond his custom.
Much was said in his praise; many anecdotes were related;
and precisely of such sayings and doings as brought Lucidor
to despair for not having forthwith applied to him. This
unpleasant feeling was but aggravated, when he learned that
in such attacks of disorder the good old man would often not
make his re-appearance for a week.
For social converse a country residence has many advantages,
especially when the owners of it have, for a course of
years, been induced, as thinking and feeling persons, to
improve the natural capabilities of their environs. Such had
been the good fortune of this spot. The Oberamtmann, at
first unwedded, then in a long happy marriage, himself a man
of fortune, and occupying a lucrative post, had, according to
his own judgment and perception, according to the taste of
his wife, nay, at last according to the wishes and whims of his
children, laid out and forwarded many larger and smaller
decorations; which by degrees being skilfully connected with
plantations and paths, afforded to the promenader, a very
beautiful, continually varying, characteristic series of scenes.
A pilgrimage through these, our young hosts now proposed to
their guests; as in general we take pleasure in showing our
improvements to a stranger, that so what has become habitual
in our eyes may appear with the charm of novelty in his, and
leave with him, in permanent remembrance, its first favourable
impression.
The nearest, as well as the most distant part of the grounds,
was peculiarly appropriate for modest decorations, and altogether
rural individualities. Fertile hills alternated with
well-watered meadows; so that the whole was visible from
time to time, without being flat; and if the land seemed
chiefly devoted to purposes of utility, the graceful, the attractive,
was by no means excluded.
To the dwelling and office-houses were united various
gardens, orchards and green spaces; out of which you imperceptibly
passed into a little wood, with a broad, clear carriage-road
winding up and down through the midst of it. Here, in
a central spot, on the most considerable elevation, there had
been a hall erected, with side-chambers entering from it.
On coming through the main door, you saw in a large mirror
the most favourable prospect which the country afforded;
and were sure to turn round that instant, to recover yourself
on the reality from the effect of this its unexpected image;
for the approach was artfully enough contrived, and all
that could excite surprise was carefully hid till the last
moment. No one entered but felt himself pleasurably
tempted to turn from the mirror to Nature, and from Nature
to the mirror.
Once in motion in this fairest, brightest, longest day, our
party made a spiritual campaign of it, over and through the
whole. Here the daughters pointed out the evening seat of
their good mother, where a stately box-tree had kept clear
space all round it. A little farther on, Lucinda's place of
morning-prayer was half-roguishly exhibited by Julia: close
to a little brook, between poplars and alders, with meadows
sloping down from it, and fields stretching upwards. It was
indescribably pretty. You thought you had seen such a spot
everywhere, but nowhere so impressive and so perfect in its
simplicity. In return for this, the young master, also half
against Julia's will, pointed out the tiny groves and child's
gardens, which, close by a snug-lying mill, were now scarcely
discernible: they dated from a time when Julia, perhaps in
her tenth year, had taken it into her head to become a
milleress; intending, after the decease of the two old occupants,
to assume the management herself, and choose some
brave millman for her husband.
"That was at a time," cried Julia, "when I knew nothing
of towns lying on rivers, or even on the sea; nothing of
Genoa, of Naples and the like. Your worthy father, Lucidor,
has converted me; of late I come seldom hither." She sat down
with a roguish air, on a little bench, that was now scarcely
large enough for her; under an elder-bough, which had bent
deeply towards the ground: "Fie on this cowering!" cried
she; then started up, and ran off with her gay brother.
The remaining pair kept up a rational conversation; and in
these cases reason approaches close to the borders of feeling.
Wandering over changeful, simple natural objects, to contemplate
at leisure how cunning scheming man contrives to
gain some profit from them; how his perception of what is
laid before him, combining with the feeling of his wants, does
wonders, first in rendering the world inhabitable, then in
peopling it, and at last in overpeopling it: all this could here
be talked of in detail. Lucinda gave account of everything;
and, modest as she was, she could not hide that these pleasant
and convenient combinations of distant parts by roads, had
been her work, Under the proposal, direction, or favour of her
revered mother.
But as the longest day at last bends down to evening, our
party were at last forced to think of returning; and while
devising some pleasant circuit, the merry brother proposed
that they should take the short road, though it commanded
no fine prospects, and was even in some places more difficult to
get over. " For," cried he, " you have preached all day about
your decorations and reparations, and how you have improved
and beautified the scene for pictorial eyes and feeling hearts:
let me also have my turn."
Accordingly they now set forth over ploughed grounds, by
coarse paths, nay, sometimes picking their way by steppingstones
in boggy places; till at last they perceived, at some
distance, a pile of machinery towering up in manifold combination.
More closely examined, it turned out to be a large
apparatus for sport and games, arranged not without judgment,
and in a certain popular spirit. Here, fixed at suitable
distances, stood a large swing-wheel, on which the ascending
and the descending riders might still sit horizontally, and at
their ease; other see-saws, swing-ropes, leaping-poles, bowling
and nine-pins courses, and whatever can be fancied for variedly
and equally employing and diverting a crowd of people
gathered on a large common. "This," cried he, "is my
invention, my decoration! And though my father found the
money, and a shrewd fellow the brain necessary for it, yet
without me, whom you often call a person of no judgment,
money and brain would not have come together."
In this cheerful mood, the whole four reached home by
sunset. Antoni also joined them; but the little Julia, not
yet satisfied with this unresting travel, ordered her coach, and
set forth on a visit to a lady of her friends, in utter despair
at not having seen her for two days. The party left behind
began to feel embarrassed before they were aware; it was even
mentioned in words that the father's absence distressed them.
The conversation was about to stagnate, when all at once
the madcap sprang from his seat, and in a few moments
returned with a book, proposing to read to the company.
Lucinda forbore not to inquire how this notion had occurred
to him, now for the first time in a twelvemonth. " Everything
occurs to me," said he, "at the proper season: this is
more than you can say for yourself." He read them a series of
genuine Antique Tales: such as lead man away from himself,
flattering his wishes, and making him forget all those restrictions,
between which, even in the happiest moments, we are
still hemmed in.
"What shall I do now!" cried Lucidor, when at last he
saw himself alone. "The hour presses on: in Antoni I have
no trust; he is an utter stranger, I know not who he is, how
he comes to be here, nor what he wants; Lucinda seems to be
his object; and if so, what can I expect of him? Nothing
remains for me but applying to Lucinda herself: she must
know of it, she before all others. This was my first feeling:
why do we stray into side-paths and subterfuges? My first
thought shall be my last, and I hope to reach my aim."
On Saturday morning, Lucidor, dressed at an early hour,
was walking to and fro in his chamber; thinking and conning
over his projected address to Lucinda, when he heard a sort of
iestful contention before his door, and the door itself directly
afterwards opened. The mad younker was shoving in a boy
before him, with coffee and baked ware for the guest; he himself
carried cold meats and wine. "Go thou foremost," cried
the younker: "for the guest must be first served; I am used
to serve myself. My friend, today I am entering somewhat
early and tumultuously: but let us take our breakfast in
peace; then we shall see what is to be done; for of our company
there is nothing to be hoped. The little one is not yet
back from her friend; they two have to pour out their hearts
together every fortnight, otherwise the poor dear hearts would
burst. On Saturdays, Lucinda ii good for nothing; she
balances her household accounts for my father; she would
have had me taking share in the concern, but Heaven forbid!
When I know the price of anything, no morsel of it can I
relish. Guests are expected tomorrow; the old man has
not yet got refitted; Antoni is gone to hunt, we will do the
same."
Guns, pouches, and dogs were ready, as our pair stept down
into the court; and now they set forth over field and hill,
shooting at best some leveret or so, and perhaps here and
there a poor indifferent undeserving bird. Meanwhile they
kept talking of domestic affairs, of the household and company
at present assembled in it. Antoni was mentioned, and
Lucidor failed not to inquire more narrowly about him. The
gay younker, with some self-complaisance, asserted, that
strange as the man was, and much mystery as he made about
himself, he, the gay younker, had already seen through him and
through him. "Without doubt," continued he, "Antoni is
the son of a rich mercantile family, whose large partnership
concern fell to ruin at the very time when he, in the full
vigour of youth, was preparing to take a cheerful and active
hand in their great undertakings, and withal to share in their
abundant profits. Dashed down from the summit of his hopes,
he gathered himself together, and undertook to perform for
strangers what he was no longer in a case to perform for his
relatives. And so he travelled through the world; became
thoroughly acquainted with it and its mutual traffickings; in
the mean while not forgetting his own advantage. Unwearied
diligence and tried fidelity obtained and secured for him unbounded
confidence from many. Thus in all places he acquired
connexions and friends; nay, it is easy to see that his fortune
is as widely scattered abroad as his acquaintance; and accordingly
his presence is from time to time required in all quarters
of the world."
These things the merry younker told in a more circumstantial
and simple style, introducing many farcical observations, as if
he meant to spin out his story to full length.
"How long, for instance," cried he, "has this Antoni been
connected with my father! They think I see nothing, because
I trouble myself about nothing; but for this very reason, I see
it better, as I take no interest in it. To my father he has
intrusted large sums, who again has deposited them securely
and to advantage. It was but last night that he gave our old
dietetic friend a casket of jewels; a finer, simpler, costlier
piece of ware I never cast my eyes on, though I saw this only
with a single glance, for they make a secret of it. Most
probably it is to be consigned to the bride for her pleasure,
satisfaction and future security. Antoni has set his heart on
Lucinda! Yet when I see them together, I cannot think it a
well-assorted match. The hop-skip would have suited him
better; I believe, too, she would take him sooner than the
elder would. Many a time I see her looking over to the old
curmudgeon, so gay and sympathetic, as if she could find in
her heart to spring into the coach with him, and fly off at full
gallop." Lucidor collected himself: he knew not what to
answer; all that he heard obtained his internal approbation.
The younker proceeded: "All along the girl has had a perverted
liking for old people: I believe, of a truth, she would
have skipped away and wedded your father, as briskly as she
would his son."
Lucidor followed his companion, over stock and stone, as it
pleased the gay youth to lead him: both forgot the chase,
which at any rate could not be productive. They called at a
farm-house, where, being hospitably received, the one friend
entertained himself with eating, drinking and tattling; the
other again plunged into meditations, and projects for turning
this new discovery to his own profit.
From all these narrations and disclosures, Lucidor had
acquired so much confidence in Antoni, that immediately on
their return he asked for him, and hastened into the garden,
where he was said to be. In vain! No soul was to be seen
anywhere. At last he entered the door of the great Hall;
and strange enough, the setting sun, reflected from the mirror,
so dazzled him, that he could not recognise the two persons,
who were sitting on the sofa; though he saw distinctly
that it was a lady and a man, which latter was that instant
warmly kissing the hand of his companion. How great,
accordingly, was Lucidor's astonishment, when, on recovering
his clearness of vision, he beheld Antoni sitting by Lucinda!
He was like to sink through the ground: he stood, however,
as if rooted to the spot; till Lucinda, in the kindest, most
unembarrassed manner, shifted a little to a side, and invited
him to take a seat on her right hand. Unconsciously he
obeyed her, and while she addressed him, inquiring after his
present day's history, asking pardon for her absence on domestic
engagements, he could scarcely hear her voice. Antoni
rose, and took his leave: Lucinda, resting herself from her
toil, as the others were doing, invited Lucidor to a short stroll.
Walking by her side, he was silent and embarrassed; she, too,
seemed ill at ease: and had he been in the slightest degree
self-collected, her deep-drawn breathing must have disclosed
to him that she had heartfelt sighs to suppress. She at last
took her leave, ail they approached the house: he on the
other hand turned round at first slowly, then at a violent
pace to the open country. The park was too narrow for
him; he hastened through the fields, listening only to the
voice of his heart, and without eyes for the beauties of this
loveliest evening. When he found himself alone, and his
feelings were relieving their violence in a shower of tears, he
exclaimed:
"Already in my life, but never with such fierceness, have I
felt the agony which now makes me altogether wretched: to
see the long-wished-for happiness at length reach me; hand-in-
hand and arm-in-arm unite with me; and at the same
moment announce its eternal departure! I was sitting by her,
I was walking by her; her fluttering garment touched me, and
I have lost her! Reckon it not over, torture not thy heart
with it; be silent, and determine!"
He laid a prohibition on his lips; he held his peace, and
planned and meditated, stepping over field and meadow and
bush, not always by the smoothest paths. Late at night, on
returning to his chamber, he gave voice to his thoughts for a
moment, and cried: "Tomorrow morning I am gone; another
such day I will not front."
And so, without undressing, he threw himself on the bed.
Happy, healthy season of youth! He was already asleep: the
fatiguing motion of the day had earned for him the sweetest
rest. Out of bright morning dreams, however, the earliest sun
awoke him: this was the longest day in the year; and for him
it threatened to be too long. If the grace of the peaceful evening-
star had passed over him unnoticed, he felt the awakening
beauty of the morning only to despair. The world was lying
here as glorious as ever; to his eyes it was still so; but his
soul contradicted it: all this belonged to him no longer; he
had lost Lucinda.
His travelling-bag was soon packed; this he was to leave
behind him; he left no letter with it; a verbal message in
excuse of absence from dinner, perhaps also from supper, might
be left with the groom, whom at any rate he must awaken.
The groom, however, was awake already: Lucidor found him
in the yard, walking with large strides before the stable-door.
"You do not mean to ride? " cried the usually good-natured
man, with a tone of some spleen. "To you I may say it; but
young master is growing worse and worse. There was he driving
about far and near yesterday; you might have thought
he would thank God for a Sunday to rest in. And see, if he
does not come this morning before daybreak, rummages about
in the stable, and while I am getting up, saddles and bridles
your horse, flings himself on it, and cries: 'Do but consider
the good work I am doing! This beast keeps jogging on at
a staid juridical trot, I must see and rouse him into a smart
lively gallop.' He said something just so, and other strange
speeches besides."
Lucidor was doubly and trebly vexed: he liked the horse, as
corresponding to his own character, his own mode of life; it
grieved him to figure his good sensible beast in the hands of a
madcap. His plan, too, was overturned; his purpose of flying
to a college friend, with whom he had lived in cheerful, cordial
union, and in this crisis seeking refuge beside him. His old
confidence had been awakened, the intervening miles were not
counted; he had fancied himself already at the side of his truehearted
and judicious friend, finding counsel and assuagement
from his words and looks. This prospect was now cut off:
yet not entirely, if he could venture with the fresh pedestrian
limbs, which still stood at his command, to set forth towards
the goal.
First of all, accordingly, he struck through the park; making
for the open country, and the road which was to lead him
to his friend. Of his direction he was not quite certain, when
looking to the left, his eye fell upon the Hermitage, which had
hitherto been kept secret from him; a strange edifice, rising
with grotesque joinery through bush and tree: and here, to
his extreme astonishment, he observed the good old man, who
for some days had been considered sick, standing in the gallery
under the Chinese roof, and looking blithely through the soft
morning. The friendliest salutation, the most pressing entreaties
to come up, Lucidor resisted with excuses and gestures
of haste. Nothing but sympathy with the good old man,
who, hastening down with infirm step, seemed every moment
in danger of falling to the bottom, could induce him to turn
thither, and then suffer himself to be conducted up. With
surprise he entered the pretty little hall: it had only three
windows, turned towards the park; a most graceful prospect :
the other sides were decorated, or rather covered, with hundreds
of portraits, copperplate or painted, which were fixed in a
certain order to the wall, and separated by coloured borders
and interstices.
"I favour you, my friend, more than I do everyone; this is
the sanctuary in which I peacefully spend my last days. Here
I recover myself from all the mistakes which society tempts
me to commit: here my dietetic errors are corrected, and my
old being is again restored to equilibrium."
Lucidor looked over the place; and being well read in
history, he easily observed that an historical taste had presided
in its arrangement.
"Above, there, in the frieze," said the old virtuoso, "you
will find the names of distinguished men in the primitive ages;
then those of later antiquity; yet still only their names, for
how they looked would now be difficult to discover. But here,
in the main field, comes my own life into play: here are the
men whose names I used to hear mentioned in my boyhood.
For some fifty years or so, the name of a distinguished man
continues in the remembrance of the people; then it vanishes,
or becomes fabulous. Though of German parentage, I was
born in Holland; and for me, William of Orange, Stadtholder,
and King of England, is the patriarch of all common great
men and heroes.
"Now, close by William, you observe Louis Fourteenth as
the person who-" How gladly would Lucidor have cut short
the good old man, had it but been permitted him, as it is to
us the narrators: for the whole late and latest history of the
world seemed impending; as from the portraits of Frederick
the Great and his generals, towards which he was glancing, was
but too clearly to be gathered.
And though the kindly young man could not but respect
his old friend's lively sympathy in these things, or deny that
some individual features and views in this exhibitory discourse
might be interesting; yet at college he had heard the late and
latest history of Europe already; and what a man has once
heard, he fancies himself to know forever. Lucidor's thoughts
were wandering far away; he heard not, he scarcely saw: and
was just on the point, in spite of all politeness, of flinging
himself out, and tumbling down the long fatal stair, when a
loud clapping of hands was heard from below.
While Lucidor restrained his movement, the old man looked
over through the window, and a well-known voice resounded
from beneath: "Come down, for Heaven's sake, out of your
historic picture-gallery, old gentleman! Conclude your fasts
and humiliations, and help me to appease our young friend,
when he learns it. Lucidor's horse I have ridden somewhat
hard; it has lost a shoe, and I was obliged to leave the beast
behind me. What will he say? He is too absurd, when one
behaves absurdly.'"
"Come up !" said the old man, and turned in to Lucidor:
"Now, what say you?" Lucidor was silent, and the wild
blade entered. The discussion of the business lasted long: at
length it was determined to despatch the groom forthwith,
that he might seek the horse and take charge of it.
Leaving the old man, the two younkers hastened to the
house; Lucidor, not quite unwillingly, submitting to this
arrangement. Come of it what might, within these walls the
sole wish of his heart was included. In such desperate cases,
we are, at any rate, cut off from the assistance of our free
will; and we feel ourselves relieved for a moment, when, from
any quarter, direction and constraint takes hold of us. Yet,
on entering his chamber, he found himself in the strangest
mood; like a man who, having just left an apartment of
an inn, is forced to return to it, by the breaking of an
axle.
The gay younker fell upon the travelling-bag, unpacking it
all in due order, especially selecting every article of holyday
apparel, which, though only on the travelling scale, was to be
found there. He forced Lucidor to put on fresh shoes and
stockings; he dressed for him his clustering brown locks, and
decked him at all points with his best skill. Then stepping
back, and surveying our friend and his own handiwork from
head to foot, he exclaimed: "Now, then, my good fellow, you
do look like a man that has some pretensions to pretty
damsels; and serious enough, moreover, to spy about you for
a bride. Wait one moment! You shall see how I too can
produce myself, when the hour strikes. This knack I learned
from your military officers; the girls are always glancing at
them; so I likewise have enrolled myself among a certain
Soldiery; and now they look at me too, and look again, and
no soul of them knows what to make of it. And so, from
this looking and relooking, from this surprise and attention,
a pretty enough result now and then arises; which, though it
were not lasting, is worth enjoying for the moment.
"But, come along, my friend, and do the like service for
me! When you have seen me case myself by piecemeal in my
equipment, you will not say that wit and invention have been
denied me." He now led his friend through several long
spacious passages of the old castle. "I have quite nestled
myself here," cried he. "Though I care not for hiding, I
like to be alone; you can do no good with other people."
They were passing by the office-rooms, just as a servant
came out with a patriarchal writing-apparatus, black, massive
and complete; paper, too, was not forgotten.
"I know what is to be blotted here again," cried the
younker: "go thy ways, and leave me the key. Take a look
of the place, Lucidor; it will amuse you till I am dressed.
To a friend of justice, such a spot is not odious, as to a tamer
of horses." And with this, he pushed Lucidor into the hall of
judgment.
Lucidor felt himself directly in a well-known and friendly
element; he thought of the days when he, fixed down to
business, had sat at such a table; and listening and writing,
had trained himself to his art. Nor did he fail to observe,
that in this case an old stately domestic Chapel had, under
the change of religious ideas, been converted to the service of
Themis. In the repositories he found some titles and acts
already familiar to him; in these very matters he had
cooperated, while labouring in the Capital. Opening a bundle
of papers, there came into his hands a rescript which he
himself had dictated; another, of which he had been the
originator. Handwriting and paper, signet and president's
signature, everything recalled to him that season of juridical
effort, of youthful hope. And here, when he looked round,
and saw the Oberamtmann's chair, appointed and intended for
himself; so fair a place, so dignified a circle of activity, which
he was now like to cast away and utterly lose, all this oppressed
him doubly and trebly, as the form of Lucinda seemed to
retire from him at the same time.
He turned to go out into the open air, but found himself a
prisoner. His gay friend, heedlessly or roguishly, had left the
door locked. Lucidor, however, did not long continue in this
durance: for the other returned; apologised for his oversight,
and really called forth good humour by his singular appearance.
A certain audacity of colour and cut in his clothes was
softened by natural taste, as even to tattooed Indians we
refuse not a certain approbation. "Today," cried he, "the
tedium of bygone days shall be made good to us. Worthy
friends, merry friends are come; pretty girls, roguish and
fond; and my father to boot; and wonder on wonder! your
father too. This will be a festival truly; they are all assembled
for breakfast in the parlour."
With Lucidor, at this piece of information, it was as if he
were looking into deep fog; all the figures, known and
unknown, which the words announced to him, assumed a
spectral aspect; yet his resolution, and the consciousness of a
pure heart, sustained him: and, in a few seconds, he felt
himself prepared for everything. He followed his hastening
friend with a steady step, firmly determined to await the issue,
be what it might, and explain his own purposes, come what
come might.
And yet, at the very threshold of the hall, he was struck
with some alarm. In a large half circle, ranged round by the
windows, he immediately descried his father with the Oberamtmann,
both splendidly attired. The two sisters, Antoni,
and others known and unknown, he hurried over with a glance,
which was threatening to grow dim. Half wavering, he
approached his father; who bade him welcome with the
utmost kindness, yet in a certain style of formality which
scarcely invited any trustful application. Standing before so
many persons, he looked round to find a place among them for
a moment: he might have arranged himself beside Lucinda;
but Julia, contrary to the rigour of etiquette, made room for
the cushion,
Altogether
CHAP. XVIII.] MEISTER'S TRA VELS 399
him, so that he was forced to step to her side. Antoni contin
ued by Lucinda.
At this important moment, Lucidor again felt as if he were
a delegate; and, steeled by his whole juridical science, he
called up in his own favour the fine maxim: That we should
transact affairs delegated to us by a stranger, as if they were
our own; why not our own, therefore, in the same spirit?
Well practised in official orations, he speedily ran over what
he had to say. But the company, ranged in a formal semicircle,
seemed to out-flank him. The purport of his speech
he knew well; the beginning of it he could not find. At this
crisis, he observed on a table, in the corner, the large inkglass,
and several clerks sitting round it: the Oberamtmann
made a movement as if to solicit attention for a speech;
Lucidor wished to anticipate him; and, at that very moment,
Julia pressed his hand. This threw him out of all self-possession;
convinced him that all was decided, all lost
for him.
With the whole of these negotiations, these family alliances,
with social conventions and rules of good manners, he had
now nothing more to do: he snatched his hand from Julia's,
and vanished so rapidly from the room, that the company
lost him unawares, and he out of doors could not find himself
again.
Shrinking from the light of day, which shone down upon
him in its highest splendour; avoiding the eyes of men;
dreading search and pursuit, he hurried forwards, and reached
the large garden-hall. Here his knees were like to fail him;
he rushed in, and threw himself, utterly comfortless, upon the
sofa beneath the mirror. Amid the polished arrangements
of society, to be caught in such unspeakable perplexity! It
dashed to and fro like waves about him and within him. His
past existence was struggling with his present; it was a
frightful moment.
And so he lay for a time, with his face hid in
on which last night Lucinda's arm had rested.
sunk in his sorrow, he had heard no footsteps approach;
feeling some one touch him, he started up, and perceived
Lucinda standing by his side.
Fancying they had sent her to bring him back, had commissioned
her to lead him with fit sisterly words into the
assemblage to front his hated doom, he exclaimed: "You
they should not have sent,. Lucinda; for it was you that
drove me away. I will not return. Give me, if you are
capable of any pity, procure me convenience and means of
flight. For, that you yourself may testify how impossible it
was to bring me back, listen to the explanation of my conduct,
which to you and all of them must seem insane. Hear now
the oath which I have sworn in my soul, and which I
incessantly repeat in words: with you only did I wish to live;
with you to enjoy, to employ my days, from youth to old
age, in true honourable union. And let this be as firm and
sure as aught ever sworn before the altar; this which I now
swear, now when I leave you, the most pitiable of all men."
He made a movement to glide past her, as she stood close
before him; but she caught him softly in her arms. " What
is this! " exclaimed he.
"Lucidor !" cried she, "not pitiable as you think: you
are mine, I am yours; I hold you in my arms; delay not to
throw your arms about me. Your father has agreed to all;
Antoni marries my sister."
In astonishment he recoiled from her: "Can it be?"
Lucinda smiled and nodded; he drew back from her arms.
"Let me view once more, at a distance, what is to be mine
so nearly, so inseparably?" He grasped her hands: "Lucinda,
are you mine?"
She answered: "Well, then, yes," the sweetest tears in the
truest eyes; he clasped her to his breast, and threw his head
behind hers; he hung like a shipwrecked mariner on the
cliffs of the coast; the ground still shook under him. And
now his enraptured eye, again opening, lighted on the mirror.
He saw her there in his arms, himself clasped in hers; he
looked down, and again to the image. Such emotions accompany
man throughout his life. In the mirror, also, he beheld
the landscape, which last night had appeared to him so baleful
and ominous, now lying fairer and brighter than ever;
and himself in such a posture, on such a background!
Abundant recompense for all sorrows!
"We are not alone," said Lucinda; and scarcely had he
recovered from his rapture, when, all decked and garlanded,
a company of girls and boys came forward, carrying wreaths
of flowers, and crowding the entrance of the Hall. "This is
not the way," cried Lucinda: "how prettily it was arranged,
and now it is all running into tumult!" A gay march
sounded from a distance; and the company were seen coming
on by the large road in stately procession. Lucidor hesitated
to advance towards them; only on her arm did he seem
certain of his steps. She stayed beside him, expecting from
moment to moment the solemn scene of meeting, of thanks
for pardon already given.
But by the capricious gods it was otherwise determined.
The gay clanging sound of a postillion's horn, from the opposite
side, seemed to throw the whole ceremony into rout.
"Who can be coming?" cried Lucinda. The thought of a
strange presence was frightful to Lucidor, and the carriage
seemed entirely unknown to him. A double - seated, new,
spick-and-span new, travelling chaise! It rolled up to the
hall. A well-dressed, handsome boy sprang down; opened
the door; but no one dismounted; the chaise was empty.
The boy stept into it; with a dextrous touch or two he
threw back the tilts; and there, in a twinkling, stood the
daintiest vehicle in readiness for the gayest drive, before the
eyes of the whole party, who were now advancing to the spot.
Antoni, out-hastening the rest, led Julia to the carriage.
"Try if this machine," said he, "will please you; if you
can sit in it, and over the smoothest roads, roll through the
world beside me: I will lead you by no other but the
smoothest; and when a strait comes, we shall know how to

shall carry us,
40~ MEISTER'S TRA VELS
help ourselves. Over the mountains sumpters
and our coach also."
" You are a dear creature!" cried Julia. The boy came
forward; and with the quickness of a conjuror, exhibited all
the conveniences, little advantages, comforts and celerities of
the whole light edifice.
" On Earth I have no thanks," cried Julia; "but from this
little moving Heaven, from this cloud, into which you raise
me, I will heartily thank you." She had already bounded in,
throwing him kind looks and a kiss of the hand. "For the
present you come not hither; but there is another whom I
mean to take along with me in this proof excursion; he
himself has still a proof to undergo." She called to Lucidor;
who, just then occupied in mute conversation with his father
and father-in-law, willingly took refuge in the light vehicle;
feeling an irresistible necessity to dissipate his thoughts in
some way or other, though it were but for a moment. He
placed himself beside her; she directed the postillion where
he was to drive. Instantly they darted off, enveloped in a
cloud of dust; and vanished from the eyes of the amazed
spectators.
Julia fixed herself in the corner as firmly and commodiously
as she could wish. "Now do you shift into that one too, good
brother; so that we may look each other rightly in the face."
Luddor. You feel my confusion, my embarrassment: I am
still as if in a dream; help me out of it.
Julia. Look at these gay peasants, how kindly they salute
us ! You have never seen the Upper Hamlet yet, since you
came hither. All good substantial people there, and all
thoroughly devoted to me. No one of them so rich that you
cannot, by a time, do a little kind service to him. This road,
which we whirl along so smoothly, is my father's doing;
another of his benefits to the community.
Lucidor. I believe it, and willingly admit it: but what
have these external things to do with the perplexity of my
internal feelings?
Julia. Patience a little! I will show you the riches of this
world and the glory thereof. Here now we are at the top!
Do but look how clear the level country lies all round us
leaning against the mountains! All these villages are much,
much indebted to my father; to mother and daughters too.
The grounds of yon little hamlet are the border.
Lucidor. Surely you are in a very strange mood: you do
not seem to be saying what you meant to say.
Julia. But now look down to the left; how beautifully all
this unfolds itself! The Church, with its high lindens; the
Amthaus, with its poplars, behind the village knoll! Here,
too, are the garden and the park.
The postillion drove faster.
Ju1ia. The Hall up yonder you know: it looks almost as
well here as this scene does from it. Here, at the tree, we
shall stop a moment: now in this very spot our image is
reflected in the large mirror: there they see us full well, but
we cannot see ourselves.-Go along, postillion! There, some
little while ago, two people, I believe, were reflected at a
shorter distance; and, if I am not exceedingly mistaken, to
their great mutual satisfaction.
Lucidor, in ill humour, answered nothing: they went on for
some time in silence, driving very hard. "Here," said Julia,
"the bad road begins: a service left for you to do, some day.
Before we go lower, look down once more. My mother's box-tree
rises with its royal summit over all the rest. Thou wilt
drive," continued she to the postillion," down this rough road;
we shall take the footpath through the dale, and so be sooner
at the other side than thou." In dismounting, she cried:
"Well, now, you will confess, the Wandering Jew, this restless
Antoni the Traveller, can arrange his pilgrimages prettily
enough for himself and his companions: it is a very beautiful
and commodious carriage."
And with this she tripped away down hill: Lucidor followed
her, in deep thought; she was sitting on a pleasant seat; it
was Lucinda's little spot. She invited him to sit by her.

Julia. So now we are sitting here, and one is nothing to the
other. Thus it was destined to be. The little Quicksilver
would not suit you. Love it you could not, it was hateful
to you.
Lucidor's astonishment increased.
Julia. But Lucinda, indeed! She is the paragon of all
perfections; and the pretty sister was once for all cast out.
I see it, the question hovers on your lips: who has told us
all so accurately?
Lucidor. There is treachery in it!
Julia. Yes, truly! There has been a Traitor at work in
the matter.
Lucidor. Name him.
Julia. He is soon unmasked: You! You have the praiseworthy
or blameworthy custom of talking to yourself: and
now, in the name of all, I must confess that in turn we have
overheard you.
Lucidor (starting up). A sorry piece of hospitality, to lay
snares for a stranger in this way!
Julia. By no means ! We thought not of watching you,
more than any other. But, you know, your bed stands in the
recess of the wall; on the opposite side is another alcove,
commonly employed for laying up household articles. Hither,
some days before, we had shifted our old man's bed; being
anxious about him in his remote Hermitage: and here, the
first night, you started some such passionate soliloquy, which
he next morning took his opportunity of rehearsing.
Lucidor had not the heart to interrupt her. He withdrew.
Julia (rising and following him). What a service this discovery did
us all! For I will confess, if you were not positively
disagreeable, the situation which awaited me was not by any
means to my mind. To be Frau Oberamtmannin, what a
dreadful state! To have a brave gallant husband, who is to
pass judgment on the people; and, for sheer judgment, cannot
get to justice! Who can please neither high nor low; and,
what is worse, not even himself! I know what my poor mother
suffered from the incorruptibility, the inflexibility of my father.
At last, indeed, but not till her death, a certain meekness took
possession of him: he seemed to suit himself to the world, to
make a truce with those evils which, till then, he had vainly
striven to conquer.
Lucidor (stopping short; extremely discontented with the
incident; vexed at this light mode of treating it). For the
sport of an evening this might pass; but to practise such a
disgracing mystification day and night against an unsuspicious
stranger, is not pardonable.
Julia. We are all equally deep in the crime; we all
hearkened you: yet I alone pay the penalty of eavesdropping.
Lucidor. All! So much the more unpardonable! And how
could you look at me, throughout the day, without blushing,
whom at night you were so contemptuously overreaching?
But I see clearly with a glance, that your arrangements by day
were planned to make mockery of me. A fine family! And
where was your father's love of justice all this while !-And
Lucinda!-
Julia. And Lucinda! What a tone was that ! You
meant to say, did not you, How deeply it grieved your
heart to think ill of Lucinda, to rank her in a class with
the rest of us?
Lucidor. I cannot understand Lucinda.
Julia. In other words, this pure noble soul, this peacefully
composed nature, benevolence, goodness itself, this woman as
she should be, unites with a light-minded company, with a
freakish sister, a spoiled brother, and certain mysterious
persons! That is incomprehensible!
Lucidor. Yes, indeed, it is incomprehensible.
Julia. Comprehend it then! Lucinda, like the rest of us,
had her hands bound. Could you have seen her perplexity,
how fain she would have told you all, how often she was on the
very eve of doing it, you would now love her doubly and trebly,
if indeed true love were not always tenfold and hundredfold of
itself. I can assure you, moreover, that all of us at length
thought the joke too long.
Lucidor. Why did you not end it, then?
Julia. That, too, I must explain. No sooner had my father
got intelligence of your first monologue, and seen, as was easy
to do, that none of his children would object to such an exchange,
than he determined on visiting your father. The
importance of the business gave him much anxiety. A father
alone can feel the respect which is due to a father. "He must
be informed of it in the first place," said mine, "that he may
not in the end, when we are all agreed, be reduced to give a
forced and displeased consent. I know him well; I know how
any thought, any wish, any purpose cleaves to him; and I have
my own fears about the issue. Julia, his maps and pictures,
he has long viewed as one thing; he has it in his eye to transport
all this hither, when the young pair are once settled here,
and his old pupil cannot change her abode so readily; on us
he is to bestow his holydays; and who knows what other kind
friendly things he has projected. He must forthwith be informed
what a trick Nature has played us, while yet nothing is
declared, nothing is determined." And with this, he exacted
from us all the most solemn promise that we should observe
you, and, come what might, retain you here till his return.
How this return has been protracted; what art, toil and perseverance
it has cost to gain your father's consent, he himself
will inform you. In short, the business is adjusted: Lucinda
is yours.
And thus had the two promenaders, sharply removing from
their first resting-place, then pausing by the way, then speaking
and walking slowly through the green fields, at last reached
the height, where another well-levelled road received them.
The carriage came whirling up: Julia in the mean while
turned her friend's attention to a strange sight. The whole
machinery, of which her gay brother had bragged so much, was
now alive and in motion; the wheels were already heaving up
and down a multitude of people; the see-saws were flying;
may-poles had their climbers; and many a bold artful swing
and spring over the heads of an innumerable multitude you
might see ventured. The younker had set all a-going, that so
the guests, after dinner, might have a gay spectacle awaiting
them. "Thou wilt drive through the Nether Hamlet," cried
Julia; "the people wish me well, and they shall see how well
I am off."
The Hamlet was empty: the young people had all run to
the swings and see-saws; old men and women, roused by the
driver's horn, appeared at doors and windows; everyone
gave salutations and blessings, exclaiming: "O what a lovely
pair! "
Julia. There, do you hear ? We should have suited well
enough together, after all; you may rue it yet.
Lucidor. But now, dear sister !--
Julia. Ha! Now dear, when you are rid of me?
Lucidor. One single word! On you rests a heavy accusation:
what did you mean by that squeeze of the hand, when
you knew and felt my dreadful situation? A thing so radically
wicked I have never met with in my life before.
Julia. Thank Heaven, we are now quits; now all is
pardoned. I had no mind for you, that is certain; but that
you had utterly and absolutely no mind for me, this was a
thing which no young woman could forgive; and the squeeze
of the hand, observe you, was for the rogue. I do confess, it
was almost too roguish; and I forgive myself, because I forgive
you; and so let all be forgotten and forgiven! Here is my hand.
He took it; she cried: "Here we are again! In our park
again; and so in a trice we whirl through the wide world, and
back too; we shall meet again."
They had reached the garden-hall; it seemed empty; the
company, tired of waiting, had gone out to walk. Antoni,
however, and Lucinda, came forth. Julia stepping from the
carriage flew to her friend; she thanked him in a cordial
embrace, and restrained not the most joyful tears. The brave
man's cheeks reddened, his features looked forth unfolded; his
eye glanced moist; and a fair imposing youth shone through
the veil.
And so both pairs moved off to join the company, with
feelings which the finest dream could not have given them.

CHAPTER LAST

"THUS,my friends," said Lenardo, after a short preamble,
"if we survey the most populous provinces and kingdoms of
the firm Earth, we observe on all sides that wherever an available
soil appears, it is cultivated, planted, shaped, beautified;
and in the same proportion, coveted, taken into possession,
fortified and defended. Hereby we bring home to our conceptions
the high worth of property in land; and are obliged
to consider it as the first and best acquirement that can be
allotted to man. And if on closer inspection we find parental
and filial love, the union of countrymen and townsmen, and
therefore the universal feeling of patriotism, founded immediately
on this same interest in the soil, we cannot but regard
that seizing and retaining of Space, in the great or the small
scale, as a thing still more important and venerable. Yes,
Nature herself has so ordered it! A man born on the glebe
comes by habit to belong to it; the two grow together, and
the fairest ties are spun from their union. Who is there, then,
that would spitefully disturb this foundation-stone of all existence;
that would blindly deny the worth and dignity of such
precious and peculiar gifts of Heaven?
"And yet we may assert, that if what man possesses is of
great worth, what he does and accomplishes must be of still
greater. In a wide view of things, therefore, we must look on
property in land as one small part of the possessions that have
been given us. Of these the greatest and the most precious
part consists especially in what is movable, and in what is
gained by a moving life.
"Towards this quarter, we younger men are peculiarly constrained to turn; for though we had inherited from our fathers
the desire of abiding and continuing, we find ourselves called
by a thousand causes nowise to shut our eyes against a wider
outlook and survey. Let us hasten, then, to the shore of the
Ocean, and convince ourselves what boundless spaces are still
lying open to activity; and confess that, by the bare thought
of this, we are roused to new vigour.
"Yet, not to lose ourselves in these vast expanses, let us
direct our attention to the long and large surface of so many
countries and kingdoms, combined together on the face of the
Earth. Here we behold great tracts of land tenanted by
Nomades; whose towns are movable, whose life-supporting
household goods can be transferred from place to place. We
see them in the middle of the deserts, on wide green pasturages,
lying as it were at anchor in their desired haven. Such movement,
such wandering, becomes a habit with them, a necessity;
in the end they grow to regard the surface of the world as if
it were not bulwarked by mountains, were not cut asunder by
streams. Have we not seen the North-east flow towards the
South-west, one people driving another before it, and lordship
and property altogether changed?
"From over - populous countries, a similar calamity may
again, in the great circle of vicissitudes, occur more than
once. What we have to dread from foreigners, it may be
difficult to say; but it is curious enough, that by our own
over-population, we ourselves are thronging one another in
our own domains, and without waiting to be driven, are
driving one another forth, passing sentence of banishment
each against his fellow.
"Here now is the place and season for giving scope in our
bosoms, without spleen or anger, to a love of movement; for
unfettering that impatient wish which excites us to change our
abode. Yet, whatever we may purpose and intend, let it be
accomplished not from passion, or from any other influence
of force, but from a conviction corresponding to the wisest
judgment and deliberation.
"It has been said, and over again said: Where I am well,
is my country! But this consolatory saw were better worded:
Where I am useful, is my country! At home, you may be
useless, and the fact not instantly observed; abroad in the
world, the useless man is speedily convicted. And now, if I
say: Let each endeavour everywhere to be of use to himself
and others,-this is not a precept, or a counsel, but the utterance
of life itself.
"Cast a glance over the terrestrial ball, and for the present
leave the ocean out of sight; let not its hurrying fleets distract
your thoughts; but fix your eye on the firm earth, and
be amazed to see how it is overflowed with a swarming ant-tribe,
jostling and crossing, and running to and fro forever!
So was it ordained of the Lord himself, when, obstructing the
Tower of Babel, he scattered the human race abroad into all
the world. Let us praise his name on this account, for the
blessing has extended to all generations.
"Observe now, and cheerfully, how the young, on every
side, instantly get into movement. As instruction is not
offered them within doors, and knocks not at their gates, they
hasten forthwith to those countries and cities whither the call
of science and wisdom allures them. Here, no sooner have
they gained a rapid and scanty training, than they feel themselves
impelled to look round in the world, whether here and
there some profitable experience, applicable to their objects,
may not be met with and appropriated. Let these try their
fortune! We turn from them to those completed and distinguished
men, those noble inquirers into Nature, who wittingly
encounter every difficulty, every peril, that to the world
they may lay the world open, and, through the most Impassable,
pave easy roads.
"But observe also, on beaten highways, how dust on dust,
in long cloudy trains, mounts up, betokening the track of
commodious top-laden carriages, in which the rich, the noble,
and so many others, are whirled along; whose varying purposes
and dispositions Yorick has most daintily explained to us.
"These the stout craftsman, on foot, may cheerily gaze
after; for whom his country has made it a duty to appropriate
foreign skill, and not till this has been accomplished, to revisit
his paternal hearth. In still greater numbers do traffickers
and dealers meet us on our road; the little trader must not
neglect, from time to time, to forsake his shop, that he may
visit fairs and markets, may approach the great merchant, and
increase his own small profit, by example and participation of
the boundless. But yet more restlessly do we descry cruising
on horseback, singly, on all high and by ways, that multitude
of persons whose business it is, in lawful wise, to make
forcible pretension to our purses. Samples of all sorts, prize-catalogues,
invitations to purchase, pursue us into townhouses
and country-houses, and wherever we may seek refuge:
diligently they assault us and surprise us; themselves offering
the opportunity, which it would have entered no man's mind
to seek. And what shall I say of that People which, before all
others, arrogates to itself the blessing of perpetual wandering,
and by its movable activity contrives to overreach the resting,
and to overstep the walking? Of them we must say neither
ill nor good; no good, because our League stands on its
guard against them; no ill, because the wanderer, mindful
of reciprocal advantage, is bound to treat with friendliness
whomsoever he may meet.
"But now, above all, we must mention with peculiar affection,
the whole race of artists; for they, too, are thoroughly
involved in this universal movement. Does not the painter
wander, with pallet and easel, from face to face; and are not
his kindred labourers summoned, now this way, now that,
because in all places there is something to be built and to be
fashioned? More briskly, however, paces the musician on his
way; for he peculiarly it is that for a new ear has provided
new surprise, for a fresh mind fresh astonishment. Players,
too, though they now despise the cart of Thespis, still rove
about in little choirs; and their moving world, wherever they
appear, is speedily enough built up. So likewise, individually,
renouncing serious profitable engagements, these men delight
to change place with place, according as rising talents, combined
with rising wants, furnish pretext and occasion. For
this success they commonly prepare themselves, by leaving no
important stage in their native land untrodden.
"Nor let us forget to cast a glance over the professorial
class: these, too, you find in continual motion, occupying and
forsaking one chair after the other, to scatter richly abroad
on every side the seeds of a hasty culture. More assiduous,
however, and of wider aim, are those pious souls who disperse
themselves through all quarters of the world, to bring salvation
to their brethren. Others, on the contrary, are pilgriming
to seek salvation for themselves: they march in hosts to consecrated,
wonder-working places, there to ask and receive what
was denied their souls at home.
"And if all these sorts of men surprise us less by their
wandering, as for most part, without wandering, the business
of their life were impossible, of those again who dedicate their
diligence to the soil, we should certainly expect that they, at
least, were fixed. By no means! Even without possession,
occupation is conceivable; and we behold the eager farmer
forsaking the ground which for years has yielded him profit
and enjoyment; impatiently he searches after similar or greater
profit, be it far or near. Nay, the owner himself will abandon
his new-grubbed clearage so soon as, by his cultivation, he has
rendered it commodious for a less enterprising husbandman:
once more he presses into the wilderness; again makes space
for himself in the forests; in recompense of that first toiling,
a double and treble space; on which also, it may be, he thinks
not to continue.
"There we shall leave him, bickering with bears and other
monsters; and turn back into the polished world, where we
find the state of things no whit more stationary. Do but view
any great and regulated kingdom; the ablest man is also the
man who moves the oftenest; at the beck of his prince, at the
order of his minister, the Serviceable is transferred from place
to place. To him also our precept will apply: Everywhere
endeavour to be useful, everywhere you are at home. Yet if
we observe important statesmen leaving, though reluctantly,
their high stations, we have reason to deplore their fate; for
we can neither recognise them as emigrators nor as migrators:
not as emigrators, because they forego a covetable situation
without any prospect of a better even seeming to open; not as
migrators, because to be useful in other places is a fortune
seldom granted them.
"For the soldier, again, a life of peculiar wandering is
appointed; even in peace, now this, now that post is intrusted
to him; to fight, at hand or afar off for his native country,
he must keep himself perpetually in motion or readiness to
move; and not for immediate defence alone, but also to fulfil
the remote purposes of nations and rulers, he turns his steps
towards all quarters of the world; and to few of his craft is
it given to find any resting-place. And as, in the soldier,
courage is his first and highest quality, so this must always be
considered as united with fidelity; and accordingly we find
certain nations, famous for trustworthiness, called forth from
their home, and serving spiritual or temporal regents as
body-guards.
"Another class of persons indispensable to governments,
and also of extreme mobility, we see in those negotiators,
who, despatched from court to court, beleaguer princes and
ministers, and overnet the whole inhabited world with their
invisible threads. Of these men also, no one is certain of his
place for a moment. In peace, the ablest of them are sent
from country to country; in war, they march behind the army
when victorious, prepare the way for it when fugitive; and
thus are they appointed still to be changing place for place;
on which account, indeed, they at all times carry with them a
stock of farewell cards.
"If hitherto at every step we have contrived to do ourselves
some honour, declaring all we have done the most distinguished
portion of active men to be our mates and fellows in destiny,
there now remains for you, my beloved friends, by way of
termination, a glory higher than all the rest, seeing you find
yourselves united in brotherhood with princes, kings and
emperors. Think first, with blessings and reverence, of the
imperial wanderer Hadrian, who on foot, at the head of his
army, paced out the circle of the world which was subject to
him, and thus in very deed took possession of it. Think then
with horror of the Conqueror, that armed Wanderer, against
whom no resistance availed, no wall or bulwark could shelter
armed nations. In fine, accompany with honest sympathy
those hapless exiled princes, who, descending from the summit
of the height, cannot even be received into the modest guild
of active wanderers.
"And now while we call forth and illustrate all this to one
another, no narrow despondency, no passionate perversion can
rule over us. The time is past when people rushed forth at
random into the wide world: by the labours of scientific
travellers describing wisely and copying like artists, we have
become sufficiently acquainted with the Earth, to know
moderately well what is to be looked for everywhere.
"Yet for obtaining perfect information an individual will
not suffice. Our Society is founded on the principle that each
in his degree, for his purposes, be thoroughly informed. Has
anyone of us some country in his eye, towards which his
wishes are tending, we endeavour to make clear to him, in
special detail, what was hovering before his imagination as a
whole: to afford each other a survey of the inhabited and
inhabitable world, is a most pleasant and most profitable kind
of conversation.
"Under this aspect, we can look upon ourselves as members
of a Union belonging to the world. Simple and grand is the
thought; easy is its execution by understanding and strength.
Unity is all-powerful; no division, therefore, no contention
among us! Let a man learn, we say, to figure himself as
without permanent external relation; let him seek consistency
and sequence not in circumstances but in himself; there will
he find it; there let him cherish and nourish it. He who
devotes himself to the most needful will in all cases advance
to his purpose with greatest certainty: others again, aiming at
the higher, the more delicate, require greater prudence even in
the choice of their path. But let a man be attempting or
treating what he will, he is not, as an individual, sufficient for
himself; and to an honest mind, society remains the highest
want. All serviceable persons ought to be related with each
other, as the building proprietor looks out for an architect,
and the architect for masons and carpenters.
"How and on what principle this Union of ours has been
fixed and founded, is known to all. There is no man among
us, who at any moment could not to proper purpose employ
his faculty of action; who is not assured that in all places,
whither chance, inclination, or even passion may conduct
him, he will be received, employed, assisted; nay, in adverse
accidents, as far as possible, refitted and indemnified.
"Two duties we have most rigorously undertaken: first, to
honour every species of religious worship, for all of them are
comprehended more or less directly in the Creed: secondly, in
like manner to respect all forms of government; and since
everyone of them induces and promotes a calculated activity,
to labour according to the wish and will of constituted authorities,
in whatever place it may be our lot to sojourn, and for
whatever time. Finally, we reckon it our duty, without
pedantry or rigour, to practise and forward decorum of
manners and morals, as required by that Reverence for Ourselves,
which arises from the Three Reverences; whereto we
universally profess our adherence; having all had the joy and
good fortune, some of us from youth upwards, to be initiated
likewise in the higher general Wisdom taught in certain cases
by those venerable men. All this, in the solemn hour of
parting, we have thought good once more to recount, to unfold,
to hear and acknowledge, as also to seal with a trustful
Farewell.
Keep not standing fix'd and rooted,
Briskly venture, briskly' roam!
Head and hand, where'er thou foot it,
And stout heart are still at home.
In each land the sun does visit
We are gay whate'er betide;
To give space for wand'ring is it
That the world was made so wide.'

SUMMARY

PREFACE TO SECOND EDITION OF MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP AND TRAVELS

ENGLISH interest in German literature increasing. Meister's Travels an
unexpected sequel to the Apprenticeship. The original taken to pieces
by Goethe in his last years, and constructed anew. For the English
reader the first edition proba1Jly contains novelties enough. Goethe's
position towards the English Public now greatly altered. He who
imports into his country a rationally spoken word has done well. A
true seer and speaker, under whatever conditions, shall be welcome to
us (vol. i. p. 1).

PREFACE TO FIRST EDITION OF MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP

English self-satisfied ignorance of German Literature. Unfortunate
translations. Kotzebue the representative of a nation that despises him.
Klopstock's Messias, a beautiful poem distorted into a theosophic rhapsody.
Goethe, the idol of his countrymen, to us a name signifying nothing.
The German Werte/', with all his faults, a very different person from his
English namesake. The charm of ~Paust altogether unconnected with
its preternatural framework. Fate of struggling human enthusiasm.
Minds like Goethe's the common property of all nations (vol. i. p. 3).-
Wilhelm Meister's Lelnjalwe presented to the English public. A distinct
view of Goethe's matured genius, his manner of thought and favourite
subjects. Its popularity in Germany. No mere substitute for the modern
novel; Of romance interest there is next to none. A light airy sketch
of the development of man; Characters representing distinct classes of
men, and various stages of human nature. Schlegel's admiring judgment.
Indubitable traces of the greatest genius of our times. Mignon
the most perfect poetic creation since Shakspeare (5). - The Translator's
difficulties; Fidelity his one aim (10).

GOETHE

Goethe's Autobiography. Born at Frankfort-on-Mayn, 28th August
1749. Favourable circumstances of his family: Healthy, genuine characters
of his parents. Destined for the profession of law, could but the
ambition of wealth and official celebrity have adequately inspired him.
Brightest and blackest forecastings struggling within. His true destination
a life of literature: Gotz von B81'lichingen and SOITOWS of Wel·ter.
Goethe's unlooked-for popularity far from affording him the satisfaction
he craved: Anxiety, doubt of any sort, can only be removed by Action
(vol. i. p. 12).-His connexion with the Court of Weimar. Diversity of
his studies and acquisitions: Literary labours. A universal development
of our spiritual nature more precious than the solace of our vanity.
German Philistines. Goethe's mental faculties ripened and beautified by
the advance of age (17).-A King of himself and of his world. He has
inquired fearlessly j and, while fearlessly denying the false, has not
forgotten to search out and admit the true: His assiduous culture proportionate
to the bountifulness of his gifts: Composure and cheerful
seriousness seem to breathe over all his character. This also is the spirit
of our Shakspeare (23).-Goethe not a German Voltaire: His province
high and peculiar. The angels and demons that can lay prostrate our
hearts in the nineteenth century must be of another fashion than those
which subdued US in the ninth. In Goethe a new world, of Earnestness
and Sport, begins to open before us. Inconsistencies and shortcomings
(28).- Wilhelm Meister's Wanderjall1'e has less relation to Fielding's Tom
Jones than to Spenser's Faery Queen. Goethe's reception by English
readers. Our own literature peopled with kingly intellects and hearts.
A new Poet, and Preacher of Truth to all men (32).

THE END

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