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diff --git a/old/12888-0.txt b/old/12888-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9925ce4 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12888-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,18319 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The German Classics of the Nineteenth and +Twentieth Centuries: Masterpieces of German Literature Translated into English, Volume 5. + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries: + Masterpieces of German Literature Translated into English, Volume 5. + +Author: Various + +Release Date: July 12, 2004 [eBook #12888] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GERMAN CLASSICS *** + + + + +Produced by Stan Goodman, Leah Moser and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + +VOLUME V + +THE GERMAN CLASSICS + +Masterpieces of German Literature + +TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH + +Patrons' Edition IN TWENTY VOLUMES + +ILLUSTRATED + +1914 + + + + + +CONTRIBUTORS AND TRANSLATORS + +VOLUME V + + * * * * * + +Special Writers + + FRANK THILLY, PH.D., LL.D., Professor of Philosophy, Cornell + University: The Romantic Philosophers--Fichte, Schelling, and + Schleiermacher. + + GEORGE H. DANTON, PH.D., Professor of German, Butler College: Later + German Romanticism. + + +Translators + + PERCY MACKAYE, Dramatist and Poet: Departure; Would I were Free as + are My Dreams. + + A.I. DU P. COLEMAN, A.M., Professor of English Literature, College + of the City of New York: Taillefer; The Lion's Bride; The Crucifix; + The Old Singer; From My Childhood Days; The Invitation; A Parable; + At Forty Years; etc. + + MARGARETE MÜNSTERBERG: Selections from The Boy's Magic Horn; Union + Song; The Mother Tongue; Spring Greeting to the Fatherland; Freedom; + Charlemagne's Voyage; Chidher; etc. + + HERMAN MONTAGU DONNER: Lützow's Wild Band; Cavalryman's Morning + Song. + + LOUIS H. GRAY, PH.D.: Addresses to the German Nation. + + FREDERIC H. HEDGE: The Destiny of Man; The Wonderful History of + Peter Schlemihl; The Golden Pot. + + GEORGE RIPLEY: On the Social Element in Religion. + + J. ELLIOT CABOT: On the Relation of the Plastic Arts to Nature. + + MRS. A.L.W. WISTER: From the Life of a Good-for-nothing. + + MARGARET HUNT: The Frog King, or Iron Henry; The Wolf and the Seven + Little Kids; Rapunzel; Haensel and Grethel; The Fisherman and His + Wife. + + F.E. BUNNETT: Selections from Undine. + + H.W. DULCKEN: Song of the Fatherland; The White Hart; Evening Song; + Before the Doors. + + C.T. BROOKS: Men and Knaves; Prayer During Battle; Song of the + Mountain Boy; The Chapel; etc. + + W.W. SKEAT: The Shepherd's Sang on the Lord's Day; The Hostess' + Daughter; The Good Comrade. + + W.H. FURNESS: The Lost Church; The Minstrel's Curse. + + HENRY W. LONGFELLOW: The Luck of Edenhall; Remorse; The Castle by + the Sea. + + KATE FREILIGRATH-KROEKER: On the Death of a Child. + + C.G. LELAND: The Broken Ring. + + ALFRED BASKERVILLE: Morning Prayer; The Castle of Boncourt; Woman's + Love and Life; The Spring of Love; etc. + + BAYARD TAYLOR and LILIAN BAYARD TAYLOR KILIANI: The Women of + Weinsberg; Barbarossa; the Grave of Alaric. + + JOHN OXENFORD: The Sentinel. + + LORD LINDSAY: The Pilgrim Before St. Just's. + + BAYARD TAYLOR: He Came to Meet Me. + + + + +CONTENTS OF VOLUME V + + The Romantic Philosophers--Fichte, Schelling, and Schleiermacher. + By Frank Thilly + + + Friedrich Schleiermacher + + On the Social Element in Religion. Translated by George Ripley + + + Johann Gottlieb Fichte + + The Destiny of Man. Translated by Frederic H. Hedge + Addresses to the German Nation. Translated by Louis H. Gray + + + Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph von Schelling + + On the Relation of the Plastic Arts to Nature. Translated by J. Elliot + Cabot + + * * * * * + + Later German Romanticism. By George H. Danton + + + Ludwig Achim von Arnim and Clemens Brentano + + The Boy's Magic Horn. Selections translated by Margarete Münsterberg. + Were I a Little Bird + The Mountaineer + As Many as Sand-grains in the Sea + The Swiss Deserter + The Tailor in Hell + The Reaper + + + Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm + + Fairy Tales. Translated by Margaret Hunt. + The Frog King, or Iron Henry + The Wolf and the Seven Little Kids + Rapunzel + Haensel and Grethel + The Fisherman and His Wife + + + Ernst Moritz Arndt + + Song of the Fatherland. Translated by H.W. Dulcken + Union Song. Translated by Margarete Münsterberg + + + Theodor Körner + + Men and Knaves. Translated by C.T. Brooks + Lützow's Wild Band. Translated by Herman Montagu Donner + Prayer During Battle. Translated by C.T. Brooks + + + Maximilian Gottfried von Schenkendorf + + The Mother Tongue. Translated by Margarete Münsterberg + Spring Greeting to the Fatherland. Translated by Margarete Münsterberg + Freedom. Translated by Margarete Münsterberg + + + Ludwig Uhland + + The Chapel. Translated by C.T. Brooks + The Shepherd's Song on the Lord's Day. Translated by W.W. Skeat + The Castle by the Sea. Translated by Henry W. Longfellow + Song of the Mountain Boy. Translated by C.T. Brooks + Departure. Translated by Percy MacKaye + Farewell. Translated by Alfred Baskerville + The Hostess' Daughter. Translated by W.W. Skeat + The Good Comrade. Translated by W.W. Skeat + The White Hart. Translated by H.W. Dulcken + The Lost Church. Translated by W.H. Furness + Charlemagne's Voyage. Translated by Margarete Münsterberg + Free Art. Translated by Margarete Münsterberg + Taillefer. Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman + Suabian Legend. Translated by Margarete Münsterberg + The Blind King. Translated by C.T. Brooks + The Minstrel's Curse. Translated by W.H. Furness + The Luck of Edenhall. Translated by Henry W. Longfellow + On the Death of a Child. Translated by Kate Freiligrath-Kroeker + + + Joseph von Eichendorff + + The Broken Ring. Translated by C.G. Leland + Morning Prayer. Translated by Alfred Baskerville + From the Life of a Good-for-nothing. Translated by Mrs. A.L.W. Wister + + + Adalbert von Chamisso + + The Castle of Boncourt. Translated by Alfred Baskerville + The Lion's Bride. Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman + Woman's Love and Life. Translated by Alfred Baskerville + The Women of Weinsberg. Translated by Bayard Taylor and Lilian Bayard Taylor Kiliani + The Crucifix. Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman + The Old Singer. Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman + The Old Washerwoman. From the _Foreign Quarterly_ + The Wonderful History of Peter Schlemihl. Translated by Frederic H. Hedge + + + Ernst Theodor Amadeus Hoffmann + + The Golden Pot. Translated by Frederic H. Hedge + + + Friedrich Baron de la Motte-Fouqué + + Selections from Undine. Translated by F.E. Bunnett + + + Wilhelm Hauff + + Cavalryman's Morning Song. Translated by Herman Montagu Donner + The Sentinel. Translated by John Oxenford + + + Friedrich Rückert + + Barbarossa. Translated by Bayard Taylor and Lilian Bayard Taylor Kiliani + From My Childhood Days. Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman + The Spring of Love. Translated by Alfred Baskerville + He Came to Meet Me. Translated by Bayard Taylor + The Invitation. Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman + Murmur Not. Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman + A Parable. Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman + Evening Song. Translated by H.W. Dulcken + Chidher. Translated by Margarete Münsterberg + At Forty Years. Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman + Before the Doors. Translated by H.W. Dulcken + + + August von Platen-Hallermund + + The Pilgrim Before St. Just's. Translated by Lord Lindsay + The Grave of Alaric. Translated by Bayard Taylor and Lilian Bayard Taylor Kiliani + Remorse. Translated by Henry W. Longfellow + Would I were Free as are My Dreams. Translated by Percy MacKaye + Sonnet. Translated by Margarete Münsterberg + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS--VOLUME V + + Heidelberg + Friedrich Schleiermacher. By E. Hader + The Three Hermits. By Moritz von Schwind + Johann Gottlieb Fichte. By Bury + Volunteers of 1813 before King Friedrich Wilhelm III in Breslau. By F.W. Scholtz + Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph von Schelling. By Carl Begas + The Jungfrau. By Moritz von Schwind + The Magic Horn. By Moritz von Schwind + Ludwig Achim von Arnim. By Ströhling + Clemens Brentano. By E. Linder + The Reaper. By Walter Crane + Wilhelm Grimm. By E. Hader + Jacob Grimm. By E. Hader + Hänsel and Gretel. By Ludwig Richter + Ernst Moritz Arndt. By Julius Röting + Theodor Körner. By E. Hader + Maximilian Gottfried von Schenkendorf + Ludwig Uhland. By C. Jäger + The Villa by the Sea. By Arnold Böcklin + Leaving at Dawn. By Moritz von Schwind + Joseph von Eichendorff. By Franz Kugler + Adalbert von Chamisso. By C. Jäger + The Wedding Journey. By Moritz von Schwind + Ernst Theodor Amadeus Hofmann. By Hensel + Friedrich Baron de la Motte-Fouqué + Wilhelm Hauff. By E. Hader + The Sentinel. By Robert Haug + Friedrich Rückert. By C. Jäger + Memories of Youth. By Ludwig Richter + August Graf von Platen-Hallermund + The Morning Hour. By Moritz von Schwind + + + + +THE ROMANTIC PHILOSOPHERS--FICHTE, SCHELLING, AND SCHLEIERMACHER + +By FRANK THILLY, PH.D., LL.D. Professor of Philosophy, Cornell +University + + +The Enlightenment of the eighteenth century had implicit faith in +the powers of human reason to reach the truth. With its +logical-mathematical method it endeavored to illuminate every nook and +corner of knowledge, to remove all obscurity, mystery, bigotry, and +superstition, to find a reason for everything under the sun. Nature, +religion, the State, law, morality, language, and art were brought +under the searchlight of reason and reduced to simple and self-evident +principles. Human institutions were measured according to their +reasonableness; whatever was not rational had no _raison d'être_; +to demolish the natural and historical in order to make room for +the rational became the practical ideal of the day. Enlightenment +emphasized the worth and dignity of the human individual, it sought to +deliver him from the slavery of authority and tradition, to make him +self-reliant in thought and action, to obtain for him his natural +rights, to secure his happiness and perfection in a world expressly +made for him, and to guarantee the continuance of his personal +existence in the life to come. In Germany this great movement found +expression in a popular commonsense philosophy which proved the +existence of God, freedom, and immortality, and conceived the universe +as a rational order designed by an all-wise and all-good Creator for +the benefit of man, his highest product; while other thinkers regarded +Spinozism as the only rational system, indeed as the last word of all +speculative metaphysics; for them logical thought necessarily led to +pantheism and determinism. In France, after reaching its climax in +Voltaire, it ended in materialism, atheism, and fatalism; and in +England, where it had developed the empiricism of Locke, it came to +grief in the scepticism of Hume. If we can know only our impressions, +then rational theology, cosmology, and psychology are impossible, and +it is futile to philosophize about God, the world, and the human soul. +Consistently carried out, the logical-mathematical method seemed to +land the intellect in Spinozism or in materialism--in either case to +catch man in the causal machinery of nature. In this dilemma many were +tempted to throw reason overboard as an instrument of ultimate +truth, and to seek for certainty through other functions of the human +soul--in feeling, faith, or mystical vision of some sort; the claims +of the heart and will were urged against the proud pretensions of the +intellect (Hamann, Herder, Jacobi). Another way of escape was found +by substituting the organic conception of reality for the +logical-mathematical view of the _Aufklärung_; nature and life, +poetry, art, language, political, social, and religious institutions +are not creations of reason, not things made to order, but +organic--products of evolution (Lessing, Herder, Winckelmann, Goethe). +Man, himself, moreover, is not mere intellect, but a being in whom +feelings, impulses, yearnings, will, are elements to be reckoned with. +And reality is not as transparent as the Enlightenment assumed it to +be; existence divided by reason leaves a remainder, as Goethe had put +it. + +It was Immanuel Kant who tried to arbitrate between the conflicting +tendencies of his age. He was an _Aufklärer_ in so far as he brought +reason itself to the bar of reason and sat in judgment upon its +claims, and, likewise, in so far as he insisted on the objective +validity of physics and mathematics. But he was as much opposed to +the pretentiousness of dogmatic metaphysics as to the pusillanimity +of scepticism and the _Schwärmerei_ of mysticism. He repudiated the +shallow proofs of the existence of God, freedom, and immortality +no less emphatically than he rejected materialism with its +atheism, fatalism, and hedonism. He tried to save everything worth +saving--rational knowledge, modern science, the basal truths of +the old metaphysics, and the most precious human values. For +the scientific intelligence, so he held, nature and the self are +absolutely determined; every physical occurrence and every human act +are necessary links in a causal chain. But such knowledge is +possible only in the field of phenomena (_Erscheinungen_); through +sense-perception and the discursive understanding we cannot reach the +inner core of reality; nor can we pierce the veil of appearances by +means of intellectual intuitions, mystical visions, feeling, or faith, +i.e., through the emotional and instinctive parts of our nature. It is +the presence of the moral law or categorical imperative within us that +points to a spiritual world beyond the phenomenal causal order and +assures us of our freedom, immortality, and God. It is because we +possess this deeper source of truth in practical reason that freedom +and an ideal kingdom in which purpose reigns are vouchsafed to us, and +that we can free ourselves from the mechanism of the natural order. +It is moral truth that both sets us free and demonstrates our freedom, +and that makes harmony possible between the mechanical theory of +science and the teleological conception of philosophy. The scientific +understanding would plunge us into determinism and agnosticism; from +these, faith in the moral law alone can deliver us. In this sense +Kant destroyed knowledge to make room for a rational faith in a +supersensible world, to save the independence and dignity of the human +self and the spiritual values of his people. In claiming a place +for the autonomous personality in what _appeared to be_ a mechanical +universe, Kant gave voice to some of the deeper yearnings of the age. +The German Enlightenment, the new humanism, mysticism, pietism, +and the faith-philosophy were all interested in the human soul, and +unwilling to sacrifice it to the demands of a rationalistic science or +metaphysics. In seeking to rescue it, the great criticist, piloted by +the moral law, steered his course between the rocks of rationalism, +sentimentalism, and scepticism. It was his solution of the controversy +between the head and the heart that influenced Fichte, Schelling, and +Schleiermacher. They differed from Kant and among themselves in many +respects, but they all glorified the spirit, _Geist_, as the living, +active element of reality, and they all rejected the intellect as +the source of ultimate truth. They followed him in his +anti-intellectualism, but they did not avoid, as he did, the +attractive doctrine of an inner intuition; according to them we can +somehow grasp the supersensible in an inner experience which Fichte +called intellectual, Schelling artistic, Schleiermacher religious. The +bankruptcy of the intelligence was overcome in their systems by the +discovery of a faculty that revealed to them the living, dynamic +nature of the universe. They were all more or less influenced by the +romantic currents of the times, seeking with Herder and Jacobi an +approach to the heart of things other than through the categories +of logic. Like Lessing and Goethe, they were also attracted to +the pantheistic teaching of Spinoza, though rejecting its rigid +determinism so far as it might affect the human will. They likewise +accepted the idea of development which the leaders of German +literature, Lessing, Herder, and Goethe, had already opposed to the +unhistorical _Aufklärung_, and which came to play such a prominent +part in the great system of Hegel. + +Johann Gottlieb Fichte was born in Ramenau, Oberlausitz, May 19, 1762, +the son of a poor weaver. Through the generosity of a nobleman, +the gifted lad was enabled to follow his intellectual bent; after +attending the schools at Meissen and Schulpforta he studied theology +at the universities of Jena, Leipzig, and Wittenberg with the purpose +of entering the ministry. His poverty frequently compelled him to +interrupt his studies by accepting private tutorships in families, so +that he never succeeded in preparing him self for the examinations. In +1790 he became acquainted with Kant's philosophy, which two students +had asked him to expound to them, and to which he now devoted himself +with feverish zeal. It revolutionized his entire mode of thought and +determined the course of his life. The anonymous publication of his +book, _Attempt at a Critique of all Revelation_, in 1792, written +from the Kantian point of view and mistaken at first for a work of +the great criticist, won him fame and a professorship at Jena (1794). +Here, in the intellectual centre of Germany, Fichte became the +eloquent exponent of the new idealism, which aimed at the reform of +life as well as of _Wissenschaft_; he not only taught philosophy, but +_preached_ it, as Kuno Fischer has aptly said. During the Jena +period he laid the foundations for his "Science of Knowledge" +(_Wissenschaftslehre_) which he presented in numerous works: _The +Conception of the Science of Knowledge_, 1794; _The Foundation of +the Entire Science of Knowledge_, 1794; _The Foundation of Natural +Rights_, 1796; _The System of Ethics_, 1798--(all these translated by +Kroeger); the two _Introductions to the Science of Knowledge_, 1797 +(trans. by Kroeger in _Journal of Speculative Philosophy_). The +appearance of an article _Concerning the Ground of our Belief in a +Divine World-Order_, 1798, in which Fichte seemed to identify God with +the moral world-order, brought down upon him the charge of atheism, +against which he vigorously defended himself in his _Appeal to the +Public_ and a series of other writings. Full of indignation over the +attitude which his government assumed in the matter, be offered his +resignation (1799) and removed to Berlin, where he presented his +philosophical notions in popular public lectures and in writings which +were characterized by clearness, force, and moral earnestness rather +than by their systematic form. There appeared: _The Vocation of Man_, +1800 (translated by Dr. Smith); _A Sun-Clear Statement concerning the +Nature of the New Philosophy_, 1801 (trans. by Kroeger in _Journal of +Speculative Philosophy_); _The Nature of the Scholar_, 1806 (trans. by +Smith); _Characteristics of the Present Age_, 1806 (trans. by Smith); +_The Way towards the Blessed Life_, 1806 (trans. by Smith). After the +overthrow of Prussia by Napoleon, in 1806, Fichte fled from Berlin to +Königsberg and Sweden, but returned when peace was declared in +1807, and delivered his celebrated _Addresses to the German Nation_, +1807-08, in which he sought to arouse the German people to a +consciousness of their national mission and their duty even while the +French army was still occupying the Prussian capital. + +Fichte was appointed professor of philosophy (1810) in the new +University of Berlin, for which he had been invited to construct a +plan and in the establishment of which he took a lively interest. +During the last period of his life he devoted himself to the +development of his thoughts in systematic form and wrote a number of +books; most of these were published after his death, which occurred +January 27, 1814. Among them we mention: _General Outline of +the Science of Knowledge_, 1810 (trans. by Smith); _The Facts of +Consciousness_, 1813; _Theory of the State_, published 1820. The +Complete Works, edited by his son, J.H. Fichte, appeared 1843-46. New +editions of particular works are now appearing. + +The world for Fichte is at bottom a spiritual order, the revelation +of a self-determining ego or reason; hence the science of the ego, or +reason, the _Wissenschaftslehre_, is the key to all knowledge, and we +can understand nature and man only when we have caught the secret +of the self-active ego. Philosophy must, therefore, be +_Wissenschaftslehre_, for in it all natural and mental sciences find +their ultimate roots; they can yield genuine knowledge only when +and in so far as they are based on the principles of the Science of +Knowledge--mere empirical sciences having no real cognitive value. +The ego-principle itself, however, without which there could be no +knowledge, cannot be grasped by the ordinary discursive understanding +with its spatial, temporal, and causal categories. Kant is right: if +we were limited to the scientific intellect, we could never rise above +the conception of a phenomenal order absolutely ruled by the causal +law. But there is another source of knowledge: in an act of inner +vision or intellectual intuition, which is itself an act of freedom, +we become conscious of the universal moral purpose; the law of duty or +the categorical imperative commands us to be free persons. We cannot +refuse to accept this law without abandoning ourselves as persons, +without conceiving ourselves as _things_, or mere products of nature; +the choice of one's philosophy, therefore, depends upon what kind of +man one is--upon one's values, upon one's will. The type of man who +is a slave of things, who cannot raise himself out of the causal +mechanism, who is not free, will never be able to conceive himself +otherwise than as a cog in a wheel. Fichte accepts the ego, or spirit, +as the ultimate and absolute principle, because it alone can give our +life worth and meaning. Thus he grounds his entire philosophy upon a +moral imperative which presents itself to the ego in an inner vision. +He also tells us that we can become immediately aware of the +pure activity of the ego, of our free action, in a similar act of +intellectual intuition. But we cannot know this free act unless we +perform it ourselves; no one can understand the idealistic philosophy +who is not free; hence philosophy begins with an act of freedom--_im +Anfang war die Tat_. + +In order that we may rise to free action, opposition is needed, and +this we get in the spatial-temporal world of phenomena, or nature, +which the ego creates for itself in order to have resistance to +overcome. Fichte conceives of nature as "the material of our duty," +as the obstacle against which the ego can exercise its freedom. There +could be no free action without something to act upon, and there could +be no purposive action without a world in which everything happens +according to law; and such a causal world we have in our phenomenal +order, which is the product of the absolute spiritual principle. +By the ego Fichte did not mean the subjective ego, the particular +individual self with all its idiosyncrasies, but the universal ego, +the reason that manifests itself in all conscious individuals as +universal and necessary truth. In his earlier period he did not define +his thought very carefully, but in time the absolute ego came to be +conceived as the principle of all life and consciousness, as +universal life, and ultimately identified with God. His philosophy is, +therefore, not subjective idealism, although it was so misinterpreted, +but objective idealism; nature is not the creation of the particular +individual ego, but the phenomenal expression, or reflection, in the +subject of the universal spiritual principle. + +Upon such an idealistic world-view Fichte based the ethical teachings +through which he exercised a lasting influence upon the German people +and the history of human thought. The universal ego is a moral ego, +an ego with an ethical purpose, that realizes itself in nature and in +man; it is, therefore, the vocation of man to obey the voice of duty +and to free himself from the bondage of nature, to be a person, not a +thing, to coöperate in the realization of the eternal purpose which +is working itself out in the history of humanity, to sacrifice himself +for the ideal of freedom. Every individual has his particular place in +which to labor for the social whole; how to do it, his conscience will +tell him without fail. And so, too, the German people has its peculiar +place in civilization, its unique contribution to make in the struggle +of the human race for the development of free personality. It is +Germany's mission to regain its nationality, in order that it may +take the philosophical leadership in the work of civilization, and to +establish a State based upon personal liberty, a veritable kingdom +of justice, such as has never appeared on earth, which shall realize +freedom based upon the equality of all who bear the human form. + +The Fichtean philosophy holds the mirror up to its age. With the +Enlightenment it glorifies reason, the free personality, nationality, +humanity, civilization, and progress; in this regard it expresses the +spirit of all modern philosophy. It goes beyond the _Aufklärung_ in +emphasizing the living, moving, developing nature of reality; for it, +life and consciousness constitute the essence of things, and universal +life reveals itself in a progressive history of mankind. Moreover, +the dynamic spiritual process cannot be comprehended by conceptual +thought, by the categories of a rationalistic science and philosophy, +but only by itself, by the living experience of a free agent. In the +categorical imperative, and not in logical reasonings, the individual +becomes aware of his destiny; in the sense of duty, the love of truth, +loyalty to country, respect for the rights of man, and reverence for +ideals, spirit speaks to spirit and man glimpses the eternal. + +Among the elements in this idealism that appealed to the Romanticists +were its anti-intellectualism, its intuition, the high value it placed +upon the personality, its historical viewpoint, and its faith in the +uniqueness of German culture. They welcomed the _Wissenschaftslehre_ +as a valuable ally, and exaggerated those features of it which seemed +to chime with their own views. The ego which Fichte conceives as +universal reason becomes for them the subjective empirical self, the +unique personality, in which the unconscious, spontaneous, impulsive, +instinctive phase constitutes the original element, the more +extravagant among them transforming the rational moral ego into a +romantic ego, an ego full of mystery and caprice, and even a lawless +ego. Such an ego is read into nature; for, filled with occult magic +forces, nature can be understood only by the sympathetic divining +insight of the poetic genius. And so, too, authority and tradition, as +representing the instinctive and historical side of social life, come +into their own again. + +Fichte's chief interest was centred upon the ego; nature he regarded +as a product of the absolute ego in the individual consciousness, +intended as a necessary obstacle for the free will. Without opposition +the self cannot act; without overcoming resistance it cannot become +free. In order to make free action possible, to enable the ego to +realize its ends, nature must be what it is, an order ruled by the +iron law of causality. This cheerless conception of nature--which, +however, was not Fichte's last word on the subject, since he afterward +came to conceive it as the revelation of universal life, or the +expression of a pantheistic God--did not attract Romanticism. It was +Schelling, the erstwhile follower and admirer of Fichte, who turned +his attention to the philosophy of nature and so more thoroughly +satisfied the romantic yearnings of the age. + +Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph Schelling was born at Leonberg, Würtemberg, +January 27, 1775, the son of a learned clergyman and writer on +theology. He was a precocious child and made rapid progress in his +studies, entering the Theological Seminary at Tübingen at the age of +fifteen. Between the ages of nineteen and twenty-two he wrote a +number of able treatises in the spirit of the new idealism, and +was recognized as the most talented pupil of Fichte and his best +interpreter. After the completion of his course at the University +(1795), he became the tutor and companion of two young noblemen with +whom he remained for two years (1796-98) at the University of Leipzig, +during which time he devoted himself to the study of mathematics, +physics, and medicine, and published a number of philosophical +articles. In 1798 he received a call to a professorship at Jena, where +Fichte, Schiller, Wilhelm Schlegel, and Hegel became his colleagues, +and where he entered into friendly relations with the Romantic circle +of which Caroline Schlegel, who afterward became his wife, was a +shining light. This was the most productive period of his life; during +the next few years he developed his own system of philosophy and +gave to the world his most brilliant writings. In 1803 he accepted +a professorship at Würzburg, but came into conflict with the +authorities; in 1806 he went to Munich as a member of the Academy of +Sciences and Director of the Academy of Fine Arts; in 1820 he moved to +Erlangen; and in 1827 he returned to Munich as professor of philosophy +at the newly-established University and as General Curator of the +Scientific Collections of the State. He was called to Berlin in 1841 +to help counteract the influence of the Hegelian Philosophy, but met +with little success. He died in 1854. + +The earlier writings of Schelling either reproduced the thoughts of +the _Wissenschaftslehre_ or developed them in the Fichtean spirit. +Among those of the latter class we note: _Ideas for a Philosophy of +Nature_, 1797; _On the World-Soul_, 1798; _System of Transcendental +Idealism_, 1800. During the second period, in which the influence of +Bruno and Spinoza is prominent, he works out his own philosophy of +identity; at this time he publishes _Bruno, or, Concerning the Natural +and Divine Principle of Things_, 1802, and _Method of Academic Study_, +1803. In the third period the philosophy of identity becomes the basis +for a still higher system in which the influence of German theosophy +(Jacob Böhme) is apparent; with the exception of _Philosophy and +Religion_, 1804, the _Treatise on Human Freedom_, 1809, and a +few others, the works of this period did not appear until after +Schelling's death. His previous philosophy is now called by him +"negative philosophy;" the higher or positive philosophy has as its +aim the rational construction of the history of the universe, or the +history of creation, upon the basis of the religious ideas of peoples; +it is a philosophy of mythology and revelation. Translations of some +of Schelling's works are to be found in the _Journal of Speculative +Philosophy_, an American periodical founded by W.T. Harris, which +devoted itself to the study of post-Kantian idealism. His Complete +Works, edited by his son, appeared in 14 volumes, 1856. There is a +revival of interest in his philosophy, and new editions of his books +are now being published. + +Like most philosophers of note, Schelling reckons with the various +tendencies of his times. With idealism he interprets the universe as +identical in essence with what we find in our innermost selves; it is +at bottom a living dynamic process. If that is so, nature cannot be +a merely externalized obstacle for the ego, nor a dead static spatial +mechanical system; as the expression of an active spiritual principle +there must be reason and purpose in it. But reason is not identified +by Schelling with self-conscious intelligence, for with the +faith-philosophies and Romanticism he takes it in a wider sense; in +physical and organic nature it is a slumbering reason, an unconscious, +instinctive, purposive force similar to the Leibnizian monad, +Schopenhauer's will, and Bergson's _élan vital_. In this way the +dualism between mechanism and teleology is reconciled. Nature is +a teleological order, an evolution from the unconscious to the +conscious; in man, the highest stage and the climax of history, nature +becomes self-conscious. With this organic conception both Romanticists +and many natural scientists of the age were in practical agreement; +it was the view that had always appealed to Goethe--and Herder before +him--and it gained for Schelling a large following. In his earlier +system he regarded nature as a lower stage in the evolution of +reason and sought to answer the problems: How does Nature become +Consciousness or Ego? the problem of the Philosophy of Nature; and, +How does Consciousness or the Ego become Nature? the problem of +Transcendental Idealism. In his philosophy of identity, nature and +mind are conceived as two different aspects of one and the same +principle, which is both mind and nature, subject and object, ego and +non-ego. All things are identical in essence but differentiated in the +course of evolution. It was not inconsistent with these tenets that +Schelling sought, in his last period, to discover the meaning +of universal history in the obscure beginnings of mythology +and revelation rather than in the lucid regions of an advanced +civilization. + +With the opponents of rationalism Schelling agrees that we cannot +reach the inner meaning of reality, "the living, moving element +in nature," through the scientific intelligence, but that we must +envisage it in intuition. "What is described in concepts," he tells +us, "is at rest; hence there can be concepts only of _things_ and of +that which is finite and sense-perceived. The notion of movement is +not movement itself, and without intuition we should never know what +motion is. Freedom, however, can be comprehended only by freedom, +activity only by activity." Schelling, who is a poet as well as a +philosopher, comes to regard this intuition or inner vision as an +artistic intuition. In the products of art, subject and object, the +ideal and the real, mind and nature, form (or purpose) and matter, +are one; here the harmony aimed at by philosophy lies before our very +eyes, and may be seen, touched, and heard. The creative artist creates +like nature in realizing the ideal; hence, art must serve as the +absolute model for the intuition of the world--it is the true and +eternal organ of philosophy. Like the artistic genius, the philosopher +must have the faculty for perceiving the harmony and identity in the +universe; esthetic intuition is absolute knowing. Art aims to reveal +to us the profoundest meaning of the world, which is the union of form +and matter, of the ideal and the real; in art alone the striving of +nature for harmony and identity is realized; the beautiful is the +infinite represented and made perceivable in finite form; here mind +and nature interpenetrate. In creative art the artist imitates the +creative act of nature and becomes conscious of it; in esthetic +intuition, or the perception of beauty, the philosophical genius +discovers the secret of reality; nature herself is a poem and her +secret is revealed in art. This philosophy is a far cry from the +logical-mathematical method of the _Aufklärung_; it is a protest +against this, a protest in which the leaders of the new German +literature, Herder, Goethe, Schiller, as well as the Romanticists, +willingly joined. Goethe's entire view of nature, art, and life rested +upon the teleological or organic conception; he, too, regarded the +ability to peer into the heart of things--to see the whole in its +parts, the ideal in the real, the universal in the particular, as +the poet's and thinker's highest gift. He called it an _aperçu_, "a +revelation springing up in the inner man that gives him a hint of +his likeness to God." It is this gift which Faust craves and Mephisto +sneers at as _die hohe Intuition_. + + Dass ich erkenne was die Welt + Im innersten zusammenhält, + Schau alle Wirkungskraft and Samen + Und tu' nicht mehr in Worten kramen. + +There was much that was fantastic in the _Naturphilosophie_ and much +_a priori_ interpretation of nature that tended to withdraw the +mind from the actualities of existence; it often dealt with bold +assertions, analogies, and figures of speech, rather than with facts +and proofs. But it had its merits; for it aroused an interest in +nature and nature-study, it kept alive the _philosophical_ interest +in the outer world, the desire for unity, _Einheitstrieb_, which has +remained a marked characteristic of German science from Alexander von +Humboldt down to Robert Mayer, Helmholtz, Naegeli, Haeckel, Ostwald, +Hertz, and Driesch. It opposed the one-sided mechanical method of +science, and emphasized conceptions (the idea of development, +the notion of the dynamic character of reality, pan-psychism, and +vitalism) which are still moving the minds of men today, as is +evidenced by the popularity of Henri Bergson, who, with our own +William James, leads the contemporary school of philosophical +Romanticists. + +Fichte's chief contribution to German thought was the +_Wissenschaftslehre_, Schelling's the _Naturphilosophie_, and +Schleiermacher's the philosophy of religion. All these thinkers took +account of the prevailing tendencies of the times--_Aufklärung_, +Kantian criticism, faith-philosophy, Romanticism, and Spinozism--and +were more or less affected by them. Schleiermacher also came under the +influence of Fichte, Schelling, and Greek idealism, particularly +of Plato's philosophy; many were the sources from which he drew his +material for the construction of a great system of Protestant theology +that exercised a profound influence far beyond the boundaries of his +country and won for him the title of the founder of the New Theology. + +Friedrich Daniel Ernst Schleiermacher, the son of a clergyman of +the reformed church, was born at Breslau, November 21, 1768, and was +educated at the Moravian schools at Niesky and Barby. Made sceptical +by the newer criticism, he left the Moravian brotherhood and entered +the University of Halle (1787), where he devoted himself with equal +zeal to the study of theology and philosophy. After his ordination +in 1794 he occupied various pulpits until 1803, when he was made a +professor and university preacher at Halle. In 1806 he removed from +Halle to Berlin, becoming the preacher of Trinity Church in 1809 +and professor of theology at the newly founded University in 1810, +positions which he filled with marked ability until his death, +February 12, 1834. It was in Berlin that he came into friendly touch +with the leaders of the Romantic school, Tieck, Friedrich Schlegel, +and Novalis, but he did not allow himself to be carried away by their +extravagances. He distinguished himself as a preacher, theologian, +philosopher, and philologist, and, by his study of the sources of +philosophy, added much to the knowledge of its history. Among the +books published during his life-time are: _Addresses on Religion_, +1799; _Monologues_, 1800; _Principles of a Criticism of Previous +Systems of Ethics_, 1803; translations of Plato's _Dialogues_, with +introductions and notes, 1804-28; _The Christian Faith_, 1821-22. +Complete Works, 1834-64. + +Schleiermacher's conception of religion is opposed to the +rationalistic theology of the eighteenth century, as well as to the +Kantian moral theology which has remained popular in Germany to +this day. For him religion is not science or philosophy; it does +not consist in theoretical dogmas or rationalistic proofs; neither +theories about religion nor virtuous conduct nor acts of worship are +religion itself; nor is religion based upon a rational moral faith, +as Kant had taught. He bravely took the part of Fichte in the +atheism-controversy, when the great leaders of German culture, Kant, +Herder, and even Goethe, abandoned him to his fate. He rejected +the shallow proofs of the _Aufklärung_, as well as the orthodox +utilitarian view of God as the dispenser of rewards and punishments, +and showed that the real foes of religion were the rational and +practical persons who endeavored to suppress the yearning for the +transcendent in man and to drive out all mystery in seeking to make +everything clear to him. We cannot have conceptual knowledge of God, +for conceptual thought is concerned with differences and opposites, +whereas God is without such differences and oppositions: he is the +absolute union or identity of thought and being. Religion is grounded +in feeling, or divining intuition; in feeling, we come into direct +relation with God; here the identity of thought and being is +immediately experienced in self-consciousness, and this union is the +divine element in us. Religion is the feeling of absolute dependence +upon an absolute world-ground; it is the immediate consciousness that +everything finite is infinite and exists through the infinite. + +The conception of God as the unity of thought and being, and the idea +of man's absolute dependence upon the world-ground, call to mind the +pantheism of Spinoza. Schleiermacher seeks to tone this down by giving +the world of things a relative independence; God and the world are +inseparable, and yet must be distinguished. God is unity without +plurality, the world plurality without unity; the world is +spatial-temporal, while God is spaceless and timeless. He is, however, +not conceived as a personality, but as the universal creative force, +as the source of all life. The determinism implied in this world-view +is softened by giving the individual a measure of freedom and +independence. The particular individuals are subject to the law of +the whole; but each self has its unique endowment or gifts, its +individuality, and its freedom consists in the unfolding of its +peculiar capacities. With Goethe, Schiller, and Romanticism, our +philosopher rejects the rigoristic Kantian-Fichtean view of duty +which, in his opinion, would suppress individuality and reduce all +persons to a homogeneous mass; like them he regards the development +of unique personalities as the highest moral task. "Every man should +express humanity in his own peculiar way in a unique mixture of +elements, in order that it may reveal itself in every possible form, +and that everything may become real in the infinite fulness which +can spring from its lap." "The same duties can be performed in many +different ways. Different men may practise justice according to the +same principles, each man keeping in view the general welfare and +personal merit, but with different degrees of feeling, all the +way from extreme coldness to the warmest sympathy." The command, +therefore, is not merely: Be a person; but: Be a unique person, live +your own individual life. There is no irreconcilable conflict between +the natural law and the moral law, between impulse and reason. For the +same reasons he defends the diversity of religions and the claims of +personal religion; in each unique individual, religion should be left +free to express itself in its own unique and intimate way. His ideal +is the development of unique, novel, original personalities; and these +are expressions of the divine, which rationalism cannot bring under +either its theoretical or practical rubrics. + +The individual cannot become conscious of, and prize, his own +individuality without at the same time valuing uniqueness in +others; the higher a value he sets upon his own self, the more +the personalities of others must impress him. "Whoever desires to +cultivate his individuality must have an appreciation of everything +that he is not." "The sense of universality (_der allgemeine Sinn_) is +the supreme condition of one's own perfection." Hence the ethical +life is a life in society--a society of unique individuals who respect +humanity in its uniqueness, in themselves and in others. "They are +among themselves a chorus of friends. Every one knows that he too is +a part and product of the universe, that in him too are revealed +its divine life and action." "The more every one approximates the +universe, the more he communicates himself to others, the more perfect +unity will they all form; no one has a consciousness for himself +alone, every one has, at the same time, that of the other; they are no +longer only men, but mankind; rising above themselves and triumphing +over themselves, they are on the road to true immortality and +eternity." In the feeling of piety man recognizes that his desire to +be a unique personality is in harmony with the action of the universe; +hence that he can, ought, and must make the development of his +uniqueness the goal, the strongest motive, and the highest good, +and that he can surely realize what he is striving for, because the +universe which created and determined him created him for that. + + + + +_FRIEDRICH SCHLEIERMACHER_ + + * * * * * + +ON THE SOCIAL ELEMENT IN RELIGION (1799) [1] + +TRANSLATED BY GEORGE RIPLEY + + +Those among you who are accustomed to regard religion as a disease +of the human mind, cherish also the habitual conviction that it is an +evil more easily borne, even though not to be cured, so long as it is +only insulated individuals here and there who are infected with +it; but that the common danger is raised to the highest degree, +and everything put at stake, as soon as a too close connection is +permitted between many patients of this character. In the former +case it is possible by a judicious treatment, as it were by an +antiphlegistic regimen, and by a healthy spiritual atmosphere, to ward +off the violence of the paroxysms; and if not entirely to conquer the +exciting cause of the disease, to attenuate it to such a degree that +it shall be almost innocuous. But in the latter case we must despair +of every other means of cure, except that which may proceed from some +internal beneficent operation of Nature. For the evil is attended with +more alarming symptoms, and is more fatal in its effects, when the too +great proximity of other infected persons feeds and aggravates it in +every individual; the whole mass of vital air is then quickly poisoned +by a few; the most vigorous frames are smitten with the contagion; +all the channels in which the functions of life should go on are +destroyed; all the juices of the system are decomposed; and, seized +with a similar feverous delirium, the sound spiritual life and +productions of whole ages and nations are involved in irremediable +ruin. Hence your antipathy to the church, to every institution +which is intended for the communication of religion, is always more +prominent than that which you feel to religion itself; hence, also, +priests, as the pillars and the most efficient members of such +institutions, are, of all men, the objects of your greatest +abomination. + +Even those among you who hold a little more indulgent opinion with +regard to religion, and deem it rather a singularity than a disorder +of the mind, an insignificant rather than a dangerous phenomenon, +cherish quite as unfavorable impressions of all social organization +for its promotion. A slavish immolation of all that is free and +peculiar, a system of lifeless mechanism and barren ceremonies--these, +they imagine, are the inseparable consequences of every such +institution and are the ingenious and elaborate work of men, who, with +almost incredible success, have made a great merit of things which are +either nothing in themselves, or which any other person was quite as +capable of accomplishing as they. I should pour out my heart but very +imperfectly before you, on a subject to which I attach the utmost +importance, if I did not undertake to give you the correct point +of view with regard to it. I need not here repeat how many of the +perverted endeavors and melancholy fortunes of humanity you charge +upon religious associations; this is clear as light, in a thousand +utterances of your predominant individuals; nor will I stop to refute +these accusations, one by one, in order to fix the evil upon other +causes. Let us rather submit the whole conception of the church to +a new examination, and from its central point, throughout its whole +extent, erect it again upon a new basis, without regard to what it has +actually been hitherto, or to what experience may suggest concerning +it. + +If religion exists at all, it must needs possess a social character; +this is founded not only in the nature of man, but still more in the +nature of religion. You will acknowledge that it indicates a state of +disease, a signal perversion of nature, when an individual wishes to +shut up within himself anything which he has produced and elaborated +by his own efforts. It is the disposition of man to reveal and to +communicate whatever is in him, in the indispensable relations +and mutual dependence not only of practical life, but also of his +spiritual being, by which he is connected with all others of his +race; and the more powerfully he is wrought upon by anything, the more +deeply it penetrates his inward nature, so much the stronger is this +social impulse, even if we regard it only from the point of view of +the universal endeavor to behold the emotions which we feel ourselves, +as they are exhibited by others, so that we may obtain a proof from +their example that our own experience is not beyond the sphere of +humanity. + +[Illustration: FRIEDRICH SCHLEIERMACHER] + +You perceive that I am not speaking here of the endeavor to make +others similar to ourselves, nor of the conviction that what is +exhibited in one is essential to all; it is merely my aim to ascertain +the true relation between our individual life and the common nature +of man, and clearly to set it forth. But the peculiar object of this +desire for communication is unquestionably that in which man feels +that he is originally passive, namely, his observations and emotions. +He is here impelled by the eager wish to know whether the power which +has produced them in him be not something foreign and unworthy. Hence +we see man employed, from his very childhood, in communicating those +observations and emotions; the conceptions of his understanding, +concerning whose origin there can be no doubt, he allows to rest in +his own mind, and still more easily he determines to refrain from +the expression of his judgments; but whatever acts upon his senses, +whatever awakens his feelings, of that he desires to obtain witnesses, +with regard to that he longs for those who will sympathize with him. +How should he keep to himself those very operations of the world upon +his soul which are the most universal and comprehensive, which appear +to him as of the most stupendous and resistless magnitude? How should +he be willing to lock up within his own bosom those very emotions +which impel him with the greatest power beyond himself, and in the +indulgence of which he becomes conscious that he can never understand +his own nature from himself alone? It will rather be his first +endeavor, whenever a religious view gains clearness in his eye, or a +pious feeling penetrates his soul, to direct the attention of others +to the same object, and, as far as possible, to communicate to their +hearts the elevated impulses of his own. + +If, then, the religious man is urged by his nature to speak, it is the +same nature which secures to him the certainty of hearers. There is no +element of his being with which, at the same time, there is implanted +in man such a lively feeling of his total inability to exhaust it by +himself alone, as with that of religion. A sense of religion has no +sooner dawned upon him, than he feels the infinity of its nature and +the limitation of his own; he is conscious of embracing but a small +portion of it; and that which he cannot immediately reach he wishes +to perceive, as far as he can, from the representations of others who +have experienced it themselves, and to enjoy it with them. Hence, +he is anxious to observe every manifestation of it; and, seeking +to supply his own deficiencies, he watches for every tone which +he recognizes as proceeding from it. In this manner, mutual +communications are instituted; in this manner, every one feels equally +the need both of speaking and hearing. + +But the imparting of religion is not to be sought in books, like +that of intellectual conceptions and scientific knowledge. The pure +impression of the original product is too far destroyed in this +medium, which, in the same way that dark-colored objects absorb the +greatest proportion of the rays of light, swallows up everything +belonging to the pious emotions of the heart, which cannot be embraced +in the insufficient symbols from which it is intended again to +proceed. Nay, in the written communications of religious feeling, +everything needs a double and triple representation; for that which +originally represented, must be represented in its turn; and yet +the effect on the whole man, in its complete unity, can only be +imperfectly set forth by continued and varied reflections. It is only +when religion is driven out from the society of the living, that it +must conceal its manifold life under the dead letter. + +Neither can this intercourse of heart with heart, on the deepest +feelings of humanity, be carried on in common conversation. Many +persons, who are filled with zeal for the interests of religion, have +brought it as a reproach against the manners of our age that, +while all other important subjects are so freely discussed in the +intercourse of society, so little should be said concerning God +and divine things. I would defend ourselves against this charge +by maintaining that this circumstance, at least, does not indicate +contempt or indifference toward religion, but a happy and very correct +instinct. In the presence of joy and merriment, where earnestness +itself must yield to raillery and wit, there can be no place for +that which should be always surrounded with holy veneration and awe. +Religious views, pious emotions, and serious considerations with +regard to them--these we cannot throw out to one another in such small +crumbs as the topics of a light conversation; and when the discourse +turns upon sacred subjects, it would rather be a crime than a virtue +to have an answer ready for every question, and a rejoinder for every +remark. Hence, the religious sentiment retires from such circles +as are too wide for it, to the more confidential intercourse of +friendship, and to the mutual communications of love, where the eye +and the countenance are more expressive than words, and where even a +holy silence is understood. But it is impossible for divine things +to be treated in the usual manner of society, where the conversation +consists in striking flashes of thought, gaily and rapidly alternating +with one another; a more elevated style is demanded for the +communication of religion, and a different kind of society, which is +devoted to this purpose, must hence be formed. It is becoming, indeed, +to apply the whole richness and magnificence of human discourse to the +loftiest subject which language can reach--not as if there were any +adornment, with which religion could not dispense, but because it +would show a frivolous and unholy disposition in its heralds if they +did not bring together the most copious resources within their power +and consecrate them all to religion, so that they might thus perhaps +exhibit it in its appropriate greatness and dignity. Hence it is +impossible, without the aid of poetry, to give utterance to the +religious sentiment in any other than an oratorical manner, with all +the skill and energy of language, and freely using, in addition, +the service of all the arts which can contribute to flowing and +impassioned discourse. He, therefore, whose heart is overflowing with +religion, can open his mouth only before an auditory, where that which +is presented, with such a wealth of preparation, can produce the most +extended and manifold effects. + +Would that I could present before you an image of the rich and +luxurious life in this city of God, when its inhabitants come together +each in the fulness of his own inspiration, which is ready to stream +forth without constraint, but, at the same time, each is filled with a +holy desire to receive and to appropriate to himself everything which +others wish to bring before him. If one comes forward before the rest, +it is not because he is entitled to this distinction, in virtue of an +office or of a previous agreement, nor because pride and conceitedness +have given him presumption; it is rather a free impulse of the spirit, +a sense of the most heartfelt unity of each with all, a consciousness +of entire equality, a mutual renunciation of all First and Last, of +all the arrangements of earthly order. He comes forward in order to +communicate to others, as an object of sympathizing contemplation, the +deepest feelings of his soul while under the influence of God; to lead +them to the domain of religion in which he breathes his native air; +and to infect them with the contagion of his own holy emotions. He +speaks forth the Divine which stirs his bosom, and in holy silence the +assembly follows the inspiration of his words. Whether he unveils a +secret mystery, or with prophetic confidence connects the future with +the present; whether he strengthens old impressions by new examples, +or is led by the lofty visions of his burning imagination into other +regions of the world and into another order of things, the practised +sense of his audience everywhere accompanies his own; and when he +returns into himself from his wanderings through the kingdom of +God, his own heart and that of each of his hearers are the common +dwelling-place of the same emotion. + +If, now, the agreement of his sentiments with that which they feel be +announced to him, whether loudly or low, then are holy mysteries--not +merely significant emblems, but, justly regarded, natural indications +of a peculiar consciousness and peculiar feelings--invented and +celebrated, a higher choir, as it were, which in its own lofty +language answers to the appealing voice. But not only, so to speak; +for as such a discourse is music without tune or measure, so there +is also a music among the Holy, which may be called discourse without +words, the most distinct and expressive utterance of the inward man. +The Muse of Harmony, whose intimate relation with religion, although +it has been for a long time spoken of and described, is yet recognized +only by few, has always presented upon her altars the most perfect +and magnificent productions of her selectest scholars in honor of +religion. It is in sacred hymns and choirs, with which the words +of the poet are connected only by slight and airy bands, that those +feelings are breathed forth which precise language is unable to +contain; and thus the tones of thought and emotion alternate with each +other in mutual support, until all is satisfied and filled with the +Holy and the Infinite. Of this character is the influence of religious +men upon one another; such is their natural and eternal union. Do +not take it ill of them that this heavenly bond--the most consummate +product of the social nature of man, but to which it does not +attain until it becomes conscious of its own high and peculiar +significance--that this should be deemed of more value in their sight +than the political union which you esteem so far above everything +else, but which will nowhere ripen to manly beauty, and which, +compared with the former, appears far more constrained than free, far +more transitory than eternal. + +But where now, in the description which I have given of the community +of the pious, is that distinction between priests and laymen, which +you are accustomed to designate as the source of so many evils? A +false appearance has deceived you. This is not a distinction between +persons, but only one of condition and performance. Every man is a +priest, so far as he draws others around him, into the sphere which he +has appropriated to himself and in which he professes to be a master. +Every one is a layman, so far as he is guided by the counsel and +experience of another, within the sphere of religion, where he is +comparatively a stranger. There is not here the tyrannic aristocracy, +which you describe with such hatred; but this society is a priestly +people, a perfect republic, where every one is alternately ruler and +citizen, where every one follows the same power in another which he +feels also in himself, and with which he, too, governs others. + +How then could the spirit of discord and division--which you regard +as the inevitable consequence of all religious combinations--find a +congenial home within this sphere? I see nothing but that All is One, +and that all the differences which actually exist in religion, by +means of this very union of the pious, are gently blended with one +another. I have directed your attention to the different degrees +of religiousness, I have pointed out to you the different modes of +insight and the different directions in which the soul seeks for +itself the supreme object of its pursuit. Do you imagine that +this must needs give birth to sects, and thus destroy all free +and reciprocal intercourse in religion? It is true, indeed, in +contemplation, that everything which is separated into various parts +and embraced in different divisions, must be opposed and contradictory +to itself; but consider, I pray you, how Life is manifested in a great +variety of forms, how the most hostile elements seek out one another +here, and, for this very reason, what we separate in contemplation all +flows together in life. They, to be sure, who on one of these points +bear the greatest resemblance to one another, will present the +strongest mutual attraction, but they cannot, on that account, compose +an independent whole; for the degrees of this affinity imperceptibly +diminish and increase, and in the midst of so many transitions there +is no absolute repulsion, no total separation, even between the most +discordant elements. Take which you will of these masses which have +assumed an organic form according to their own inherent energy; if +you do not forcibly divide them by a mechanical operation, no one +will exhibit an absolutely distinct and homogeneous character, but the +extreme points of each will be connected at the same time with those +which display different properties and properly belong to another +mass. + +If the pious individuals, who stand on the same degree of a lower +order, form a closer union with one another, there are yet some always +included in the combination who have a presentiment of higher things. +These are better understood by all who belong to a higher social class +than they understand themselves; and there is a point of sympathy +between the two which is concealed only from the latter. If those +combine in whom one of the modes of insight, which I have described, +is predominant, there will always be some among them who understand +at least both of the modes, and since they, in some degree, belong +to both, they form a connecting link between two spheres which would +otherwise be separated. Thus the individual who is more inclined to +cherish a religious connection between himself and nature, is yet by +no means opposed, in the essentials of religion, to him who prefers to +trace the footsteps of the Godhead in history; and there will never be +wanting those who can pursue both paths with equal facility. Thus in +whatever manner you divide the vast province of religion, you will +always come back to the same point. + +If unbounded universality of insight be the first and original +supposition of religion, and hence also, most naturally, its fairest +and ripest fruit, you perceive that it cannot be otherwise than that, +in proportion as an individual advances in religion and the character +of his piety becomes more pure, the whole religious world will +more and more appear to him as an indivisible whole. The spirit of +separation, in proportion as it insists upon a rigid division, is a +proof of imperfection; the highest and most cultivated minds always +perceive a universal connection, and, for the very reason that they +perceive it, they also establish it. Since every one comes in contact +only with his immediate neighbor, but, at the same time, has an +immediate neighbor on all sides and in every direction, he is, in +fact, indissolubly linked in with the whole. Mystics and Naturalists +in religion, they to whom the Godhead is a personal Being, and they +to whom it is not, they who have arrived at a systematic view of +the Universe, and they who behold it only in its elements or only in +obscure chaos--all, notwithstanding, should be only one, for one band +surrounds them all and they can be totally separated only by a violent +and arbitrary force; every specific combination is nothing but an +integral part of the whole; its peculiar characteristics are almost +evanescent, and are gradually lost in outlines that become more and +more indistinct; and at least those who feel themselves thus united +will always be the superior portion. + +Whence, then, but through a total misunderstanding, have arisen that +wild and disgraceful zeal for proselytism to a separate and peculiar +form of religion, and that horrible expression--"no salvation except +with us." As I have described to you the society of the pious, and as +it must needs be according to its intrinsic nature, it aims merely +at reciprocal communication, and subsists only between those who are +already in possession of religion, of whatever character it may be; +how then can it be its vocation to change the sentiments of those +who now acknowledge a definite system, or to introduce and consecrate +those who are totally destitute of one? The religion of this society, +as such, consists only in the religion of all the pious taken +together, as each one beholds it in the rest--it is Infinite; no +single individual can embrace it entirely, since so far as it is +individual it ceases to be one, and hence no man can attain such +elevation and completeness as to raise himself to its level. If any +one, then, has chosen a part in it for himself, whatever it may be, +were it not an absurd procedure for society to wish to deprive him of +that which is adapted to his nature--since it ought to comprise this +also within its limits, and hence some one must needs possess it? + +[Illustration: THE THREE HERMITS Moritz Von Schwind] + +And to what end should it desire to cultivate those who are yet +strangers to religion? Its own especial characteristic--the Infinite +Whole--of course it cannot impart to them; and the communication of +any specific element cannot be accomplished by the Whole, but only by +individuals. But perhaps then, the Universal, the Indeterminate, +which might be presented, when we seek that which is common to all +the members? Yet you are aware that, as a general rule, nothing can be +given or communicated, in the form of the Universal and Indeterminate, +for specific object and precise form are requisite for this purpose; +otherwise, in fact, that which is presented would not be a reality but +a nullity. Such a society, accordingly, can never find a measure or +rule for this undertaking. + +And how could it so far abandon its sphere as to engage in this +enterprise? The need on which it is founded, the essential principle +of religious sociability, points to no such purpose. Individuals unite +with one another and compose a Whole; the Whole rests in itself, +and needs not to strive for anything beyond. Hence, whatever is +accomplished in this way for religion is the private affair of the +individual for himself, and, if I may say so, more in his relations +out of the church than in it. Compelled to descend to the low grounds +of life from the circle of religious communion, where the mutual +existence and life in God afford him the most elevated enjoyment and +where his spirit, penetrated with holy feelings, soars to the highest +summit of consciousness, it is his consolation that he can connect +everything with which he must there be employed, with that which +always retains the deepest significance in his heart. As he descends +from such lofty regions to those whose whole endeavor and pursuit +are limited to earth, he easily believes--and you must pardon him the +feeling--that he has passed from intercourse with Gods and Muses to a +race of coarse barbarians. He feels like a steward of religion among +the unbelieving, a herald of piety among the savages; he hopes, like +an Orpheus or an Amphion, to charm the multitude with his heavenly +tones; he presents himself among them, like a priestly form, clearly +and brightly exhibiting the lofty, spiritual sense which fills his +soul, in all his actions and in the whole compass of his Being. If the +contemplation of the Holy and the Godlike awakens a kindred emotion in +them, how joyfully does he cherish the first presages of religion in +a new heart, as a delightful pledge of its growth even in a harsh and +foreign clime! With what triumph does he bear the neophyte with him to +the exalted assembly! This activity for the promotion of religion is +only the pious yearning of the stranger after his home, the endeavor +to carry his Fatherland with him in all his wanderings, and everywhere +to find again its laws and customs as the highest and most beautiful +elements of his life; but the Fatherland itself, happy in its own +resources, perfectly sufficient for its own wants, knows no such +endeavor. + + + + +_JOHANN GOTTLIEB FICHTE_ + + * * * * * + +THE DESTINY OF MAN (1800) + +ADAPTED FROM THE TRANSLATION BY FREDERIC H. HEDGE + +BOOK III: FAITH + + + * * * * * + +"Not merely to know, but to act according to thy knowledge, is thy +destination." So says the voice which cries to me aloud from my +innermost soul, so soon as I collect and give heed to myself for a +moment. "Not idly to inspect and contemplate thyself, nor to brood +over devout sensations--no! thou existest to act. Thine actions, and +only thine actions, determine thy worth." + + * * * * * + +Shall I refuse obedience to that inward voice? I will not do it. I +will choose voluntarily the destination which the impulse imputes to +me. And I will grasp, together with this determination, the thought of +its reality and truth, and of the reality of all that it presupposes. +I will hold to the viewpoint of natural thinking, which this impulse +assigns to me, and renounce all those morbid speculations and +refinements of the understanding which alone could make me doubt its +truth. I understand thee now, sublime Spirit![2] I have found the +organ with which I grasp this reality, and with it, probably, all +other reality. Knowledge is not that organ. No knowledge can prove +and demonstrate itself. Every knowledge presupposes a higher as its +foundation, and this upward process has no end. It is Faith, that +voluntary reposing in the view which naturally presents +itself, because it is the only one by which we can fulfil our +destination--this it is that first gives assent to knowledge, and +exalts to certainty and conviction what might otherwise be mere +illusion. It is not knowledge, but a determination of the will to +let knowledge pass for valid. I hold fast, then, forever to this +expression. It is not a mere difference of terms, but a real +deep-grounded distinction, exercising a very important influence on +my whole mental disposition. All my conviction is only faith, and is +derived from a disposition of the mind, not from the understanding. + + * * * * * + +There is only one point to which I have to direct incessantly all my +thoughts: What I must do, and how I shall most effectually accomplish +what is required of me. All my thinking must have reference to my +doing--must be considered as means, however remote, to this end. +Otherwise, it is an empty, aimless sport, a waste of time and power, +and perversion of a noble faculty which was given me for a very +different purpose. + +I may hope, I may promise myself with certainty, that when I think +after this manner, my thinking shall be attended with practical +results. Nature, in which I am to act, is not a foreign being, +created without regard to me, into which I can never penetrate. It is +fashioned by the laws of my own thought, and must surely coincide with +them. It must be everywhere transparent, cognizable, permeable to +me, in its innermost recesses. Everywhere it expresses nothing but +relations and references of myself to myself; and as certainly as +I may hope to know myself, so certainly I may promise myself that I +shall be able to explore it. Let me but seek what I have to seek, +and I shall find. Let me but inquire whereof I have to inquire, and I +shall receive answer. + +[Illustration: JOHANN GOTTLIEB FICHTE] + + + + +I + + +That voice in my interior, which I believe, and for the sake of which +I believe all else that I believe, commands me not merely to act in +the abstract. That is impossible. All these general propositions +are formed only by my voluntary attention and reflection directed to +various facts; but they do not express a single fact of themselves. +This voice of my conscience prescribes to me with certainty, in each +particular situation of my existence, what I must do and what I must +avoid in that situation. It accompanies me, if I will but listen to it +with attention, through all the events of my life, and never refuses +its reward where I am called to act. It establishes immediate +conviction, and irresistibly compels my assent. It is impossible for +me to contend against it. + +To harken to that voice, honestly and dispassionately, without +fear and without useless speculation to obey it--this is my sole +destination, this the whole aim of my existence. My life ceases to +be an empty sport, without truth or meaning. There is something to be +done, simply because it must be done--namely, that which conscience +demands of me who find myself in this particular position. I exist +solely in order that it may be fulfilled. To perceive it, I have +understanding; to do it, power. + +Through these commandments of conscience alone come truth and reality +into my conceptions. I cannot refuse attention and obedience to them +without renouncing my destination. I cannot, therefore, withhold my +belief in the reality which they bring before me, without, at the same +time, denying my destination. It is absolutely true, without +further examination and demonstration--it is the first truth and the +foundation of all other truth and certainty--that I must obey that +voice. Consequently, according to this way of thinking, everything +becomes true and real for me which the possibility of such obedience +presupposes. + +There hover before me phenomena in space, to which I transfer the idea +of my own being. I represent them to myself as beings of my own kind. +Consistent speculation has taught me or will teach me that these +supposed rational beings, without me, are only products of my own +conception; that I am necessitated, once for all, by laws of thought +which can be shown to exist, to represent the idea of myself out +of myself, and that, according to the same laws, this idea can be +transferred only to certain definite perceptions. But the voice of +my conscience cries to me: "Whatever these beings may be in and for +themselves, thou shalt treat them as subsisting for themselves, as +free, self-existing beings, entirely independent of thyself. Take +it for granted that they are capable of proposing to themselves aims +independently of thee, by their own power. Never disturb the execution +of these, their designs, but further them rather, with all thy might. +Respect their liberty. Embrace with love their objects as thine +own." So must I act. And to such action shall, will, and must all my +thinking be directed, if I have but formed the purpose to obey the +voice of my conscience. Accordingly, I shall ever consider those +beings as beings subsisting for themselves, and forming and +accomplishing aims independently of me. From this viewpoint, I cannot +consider them in any other light; and the above-mentioned speculation +will vanish like an empty dream before my eyes. "I _think_ of them as +beings of my own species," said I just now; but strictly, it is not a +thought by which they are first represented to me as such. It is the +voice of conscience, the command: "Here restrain thy liberty, +here suppose and respect foreign aims." This it is which is first +translated into the thought: "Here is surely and truly, subsisting +of itself, a being like me." To consider them otherwise, I must first +deny the voice of my conscience in life and forget it in speculation. + +There hover before me other phenomena which I do not consider as +beings like myself, but as irrational objects. Speculation finds it +easy to show how the conception of such objects develops itself purely +from my power of conception and its necessary modes of action. But +I comprehend these same things also through need and craving and +enjoyment. It is not the conception--no, it is hunger and thirst and +the satisfaction of these that makes anything food and drink to me. +Of course, I am constrained to believe in the reality of that which +threatens my sensuous existence, or which alone can preserve it. +Conscience comes in, at once hallowing and limiting this impulse of +Nature. "Thou shalt preserve, exercise and strengthen thyself, and +thy sensuous power; for this sensuous power forms a part of the +calculation, in the plan of reason. But thou canst preserve it only +by a suitable use, agreeable to the peculiar interior laws of such +matters. And, besides thyself, there are also others like thee, whose +powers are calculated upon like thine own, and who can be preserved +only in the same way. Allow to them the same use of their portion +which it is granted thee to make of thine own portion. Respect what +comes to them, as their property. Use what comes to thee in a suitable +manner, as thy property." So must I act, and I must think conformably +to such action. Accordingly, I am necessitated to regard these things +as standing under their own natural laws, independent of me, but which +I am capable of knowing; that is, to ascribe to them an existence +independent of myself. I am constrained to believe in such laws, +and it becomes my business to ascertain them; and empty speculation +vanishes like mist when the warming sun appears. + +In short, there is for me, in general, no pure, naked existence, with +which I have no concern, and which I contemplate solely for the sake +of contemplation. Whatever exists for me, exists only by virtue of +its relation to me. But there is everywhere but one relation to +me possible, and all the rest are but varieties of this, i.e., my +destination as a moral agent. My world is the object and sphere of my +duties, and absolutely nothing else. There is no other world, no other +attributes of my world, for me. My collective capacity and all finite +capacity is insufficient to comprehend any other. Everything which +exists for me forces its existence and its reality upon me, solely by +means of this relation; and only by means of this relation do I grasp +it. There is utterly wanting in me an organ for any other existence. + +To the question whether then in fact such a world exists as I +represent to myself, I can answer nothing certain, nothing which is +raised above all doubt, but this: I have assuredly and truly these +definite duties which represent themselves to me as duties toward such +and such persons, concerning such and such objects. These definite +duties I cannot represent to myself otherwise, nor can I execute +them otherwise, than as lying within the sphere of such a world as I +conceive. Even he who has never thought of his moral destination, if +any such there could be, or who, if he has thought about it at all, +has never entertained the slightest purpose of ever, in the indefinite +future, fulfilling it--even he derives his world of the senses and his +belief in the reality of such a world no otherwise than from his idea +of a moral world. If he does not comprehend it through the idea of his +duties, he certainly does so through the requisition of his rights. +What he does not require of himself he yet requires of others, in +relation to himself--that they treat him with care and consideration, +agreeably to his nature, not as an irrational thing, but as a free and +self-subsisting being. And so he is constrained, in order that they +may comply with this demand, to think of them also as rational, free, +self-subsisting, and independent of the mere force of Nature. And even +though he should never propose to himself any other aim in the use and +fruition of the objects which surround him than that of enjoying them, +he still demands this enjoyment as a right, of which others must leave +him in undisturbed possession. Accordingly, he comprehends even the +irrational world of the senses through a moral idea. No one who lives +a conscious life can renounce these claims to be respected as rational +and self-subsisting. And with these claims at least there is connected +in his soul a seriousness, an abandonment of doubt, a belief in +a reality, if not with the acknowledgment of a moral law in +his innermost being. Do but assail him who denies his own moral +destination and your existence and the existence of a corporeal +world, except in the way of experiment, to try what speculation can +do--assail him actively, carry his principles into life, and act as if +he either did not exist, or as if he were a piece of rude matter, and +he will soon forget the joke; he will become seriously angry with you, +he will seriously reprove you for treating him so, and maintain that +you ought not and must not do so to him; and, in this way, he will +practically admit that you really possess the power of acting upon +him, that he exists, that you exist, and that there exists _a medium +through which you act upon him_; and that you have at least duties +toward him. + +Hence it is not the action of supposed objects without us, which exist +for us only and for which we exist only in so far as we already know +of them; just as little is it an empty fashioning, by means of our +imagination and our thinking, whose products would appear to us as +such, as empty pictures; it is not these, but the necessary faith in +our liberty and our power, in our veritable action and in definite +laws of human action, which serves as the foundation of all +consciousness of a reality without us, a consciousness which is +itself but a belief, since it rests on a belief, but one which follows +necessarily from that belief. We are compelled to assume that we +act in general, and that we ought to act in a certain way; we are +compelled to assume a certain sphere of such action--this sphere being +the truly and actually existing world as we find it. And _vice versa_, +this world is absolutely nothing but that sphere, and by no means +extends beyond it. The consciousness of the actual world proceeds from +the necessity of action, and not the reverse--i.e., the necessity of +action from the consciousness of such a world. The necessity is first +not the consciousness; that is derived. We do not act because we +agnize, but we agnize because we are destined to act. Practical reason +is the root of all reason. The laws of action for rational beings are +_immediately_ certain; their world is certain _only because they are +certain_. Were we to renounce the former, the world, and, with it, +ourselves, we should sink into absolute nothing. We raise ourselves +out of this nothing, and sustain ourselves above this nothing, solely +by means of our morality. + + + + +II + + * * * * * + +When I contemplate the world as it is, independently of any command, +there manifests itself in my interior the wish, the longing, no! not +a longing merely--the absolute demand for a better world. I cast a +glance at the relations of men to one another and to Nature, at the +weakness of their powers, at the strength of their appetites and +passions. It cries to me irresistibly from my innermost soul: "Thus it +cannot possibly be destined always to remain. It must, O it must all +become other and better!" + +I can in no wise imagine to myself the present condition of man as +that which is designed to endure. I cannot imagine it to be his whole +and final destination. If so, then would everything be dream and +delusion, and it would not be worth the trouble to have lived and to +have taken part in this ever-recurring, aimless, and unmeaning game. +Only so far as I can regard this condition as the means of something +better, as a point of transition to a higher and more perfect, does +it acquire any value for me. Not on its own account, but on account of +something better for which it prepares the way, can I bear it, honor +it, and joyfully fulfil my part in it. My mind can find no place, nor +rest a moment, in the present; it is irresistibly repelled by it. My +whole life streams irrepressibly on toward the future and better. + +Am I only to eat and to drink that I may hunger and thirst again, +and again eat and drink, until the grave, yawning beneath my feet, +swallows me up, and I myself spring up as food from the ground? Am I +to beget beings like myself, that they also may eat and drink and die, +and leave behind them beings like themselves, who shall do the same +that I have done? To what purpose this circle which perpetually +returns into itself; this game forever recommencing, after the same +manner, in which everything is born but to perish, and perishes but +to be born again as it was; this monster which forever devours itself +that it may produce itself again, and which produces itself that it +may again devour itself? + +Never can this be the destination of my being and of all being. There +must be something which exists because it has been brought forth, and +which now remains and can never be brought forth again after it has +been brought forth once. And this, that is permanent, must beget +itself amid the mutations of the perishing, and continue amid those +mutations, and be borne along unhurt upon the waves of time. + +As yet our race wrings with difficulty its sustenance and its +continuance from reluctant Nature. As yet the larger portion of +mankind are bowed down their whole life long by hard labor, to procure +sustenance for themselves and the few who think for them. Immortal +spirits are compelled to fix all their thinking and scheming, and +all their efforts, on the soil which bears them nourishment. It often +comes to pass as yet, that when the laborer has ended, and promises +himself, for his pains, the continuance of his own existence and of +those pains, then hostile elements destroy in a moment what he had +been slowly and carefully preparing for years, and delivers up the +industrious painstaking man, without any fault of his own, to +hunger and misery. It often comes to pass as yet, that inundations, +storm-winds, volcanoes, desolate whole countries, and mingle works +which bear the impress of a rational mind, as well as their authors, +with the wild chaos of death and destruction. Diseases still hurry men +into a premature grave, men in the bloom of their powers, and children +whose existence passes away without fruit or result. The pestilence +still stalks through blooming states, leaves the few who escape +it bereaved and alone, deprived of the accustomed aid of their +companions, and does all in its power to give back to the wilderness +the land which the industry of man had already conquered for its own. + +So it is, but so it cannot surely have been intended always to remain. +No work which bears the impress of reason, and which was undertaken +for the purpose of extending the dominion of reason, can be utterly +lost in the progress of the times. The sacrifices which the irregular +violence of Nature draws from reason must at least weary, satisfy, and +reconcile that violence. The force which has caused injury by acting +without rule cannot be intended to do so in that way any longer, it +cannot be destined to renew itself; it must be used up, from this time +forth and forever, by that one outbreak. All those outbreaks of +rude force, before which human power vanishes into nothing--those +desolating hurricanes, earthquakes, volcanoes, can be nothing else but +the final struggle of the wild mass against the lawfully progressive, +life-giving, systematic course to which it is compelled, contrary to +its own impulse. They can be nothing but the last concussive strokes +in the formation of our globe, now about to perfect itself. That +opposition must gradually become weaker and at last exhausted, since, +in the lawful course of things, there can be nothing that should renew +its power. That formation must at last be perfected, and our destined +abode complete. Nature must gradually come into a condition in which +we can count with certainty upon her equal step, and in which her +power shall keep unaltered a definite relation with that power which +is destined to govern it, that is, the human. So far as this relation +already exists and the systematic development of Nature has gained +firm footing, the workmanship of man, by its mere existence and its +effects, independent of any design on the part of the author, is +destined to react upon Nature and to represent in her a new and +life-giving principle. Cultivated lands are to quicken and mitigate +the sluggish, hostile atmosphere of the eternal forests, wildernesses, +and morasses. Well-ordered and diversified culture is to diffuse +through the air a new principle of life and fructification, and the +sun to send forth its most animating beams into that atmosphere which +is breathed by a healthy, industrious, and ingenious people. Science, +awakened, at first, by the pressure of necessity, shall hereafter +penetrate deliberately and calmly into the unchangeable laws of +Nature, overlook her whole power, and learn to calculate her possible +developments--shall form for itself a new Nature in idea, attach +itself closely to the living and active, and follow hard upon her +footsteps. And all knowledge which reason has wrung from Nature shall +be preserved in the course of the times and become the foundation +of further knowledge, for the common understanding of our race. Thus +shall Nature become ever more transparent and penetrable to +human perception, even to its innermost secrets. And human power, +enlightened and fortified with its inventions, shall rule her with +ease and peacefully maintain the conquest once effected. By degrees, +there shall be needed no greater outlay of mechanical labor than the +human body requires for its development, cultivation and health. And +this labor shall cease to be a burden; for the rational being is not +destined to be a bearer of burdens. + +But it is not Nature, it is liberty itself, that occasions the most +numerous and the most fearful disorders among our kind. The direst +enemy of man is man. + + * * * * * + +It is the destination of our race to unite in one body, thoroughly +acquainted with itself in all its parts, and uniformly cultivated in +all. Nature, and even the passions and vices of mankind, have, from +the beginning, drifted toward this goal. A large part of the road +which leads to it is already put behind us, and we may count with +certainty that this goal, which is the condition of further, united +progress, will be reached in due season. Do not ask History whether +mankind, on the whole, have grown more purely moral! They have grown +to extended, comprehensive, forceful acts of arbitrary will; but it +was almost a necessity of their condition that they should direct that +will exclusively to evil. + +Neither ask History whether the esthetic education and the +rationalistic culture of the understanding, of the fore-world, +concentrated upon a few single points, may not have far exceeded, in +degree, that of modern times. It might be that the answer would put +us to shame, and that the human race in growing older would appear, in +this regard, not to have advanced, but to have lost ground. + +But ask History in what period the existing culture was most widely +diffused and distributed among the greatest number of individuals. +Undoubtedly it will be found that, from the beginning of history down +to our own day, the few light-points of culture have extended +their rays farther and farther from their centres, have seized one +individual after another, and one people after another; and that this +diffusion of culture is still going on before our eyes. + +And this was the first goal of Humanity, on its infinite path. Until +this is attained, until the existing culture of an age is diffused +over the whole habitable globe, and our race is made capable of the +most unlimited communication with itself, one nation, one quarter of +the globe, must await the other, on their common path, and each must +bring its centuries of apparent standing still or retrogradation, as +a sacrifice to the common bond, for the sake of which, alone, they +themselves exist. + +When this first goal shall be attained, when everything useful that +has been discovered at one end of the earth shall immediately be +made known and imparted to all, then Humanity, without interruption, +without cessation, and without retrocession, with united force, and +with one step shall raise itself up to a degree of culture which we +lack power to conceive. + + * * * * * + +By the institution of this one true State and the firm establishment +of internal peace, external war also, at least between true +States, will be rendered impossible. Even for the sake of its own +advantage--in order that no thought of injustice, plunder and violence +may spring up in its own subjects, and no possible opportunity be +afforded them for any gain, except by labor and industry, in the +sphere assigned by law--every State must forbid as strictly, must +hinder as carefully, must compensate as exactly, and punish as +severely, an injury done to the citizen of a neighbor-State, as if it +were inflicted upon a fellow-citizen. This law respecting the security +of its neighbors is necessary to every State which is not a community +of robbers. And herewith the possibility of every just complaint of +one State against another, and every case of legitimate defense, are +done away. + +There are no necessarily and continuously direct relations between +States, as such, that could engender warfare. As a general rule, it +is only through the relations of single citizens of one State with the +citizens of another--it is only in the person of one of its members, +that a State can be injured. But this injury will be instantly +redressed, and the offended State satisfied. + + * * * * * + +That a whole nation should determine, for the sake of plunder, to +attack a neighboring country with war, is impossible, since in a State +in which all are equal the plunder would not become the booty of +a few, but must be divided equally among all, and, so divided, the +portion of each individual would never repay him for the trouble of a +war. Only, then, when the advantage to be gained falls to the lot of a +few oppressors, but the disadvantages, the trouble, the cost fall upon +a countless army of slaves--only then is a war of plunder possible or +conceivable. Accordingly, these States have no war to fear from States +like themselves, but only from savages or barbarians, tempted to prey +by want of skill to enrich themselves by industry; or from nations of +slaves, who are driven by their masters to procure plunder, of which +they are to enjoy no part themselves. As to the former, each single +State is undoubtedly superior to them in strength, by virtue of the +arts of culture. As to the latter, the common advantage of all the +States will lead them to strengthen themselves by union with one +another. No free State can reasonably tolerate, in its immediate +vicinity, polities whose rulers find their advantage in subjecting +neighboring nations, and which, therefore, by their mere existence, +perpetually threaten their neighbors' peace. Care for their own +security will oblige all free States to convert all around them into +free States like themselves, and thus, for the sake of their own +safety, to extend the dominion of culture to the savages, and that of +liberty to the slave nations round about them. And so, when once a few +free States have been formed, the empire of culture, of liberty, and, +with that, of universal peace, will gradually embrace the globe. + + * * * * * + +In this only true State, all temptation to evil in general, and even +the possibility of deliberately determining upon an evil act, will be +cut off, and man be persuaded as powerfully as he can be to direct his +will toward good. There is no man who loves evil because it is evil. +He loves in it only the advantages and enjoyments which it promises, +and which, in the present state of Humanity, it, for the most part, +actually affords. As long as this state continues, as long as a price +is set upon vice, a thorough reformation of mankind, in the whole, is +scarcely to be hoped for. But in such a civil Polity as should exist, +such as reason demands, and such as the thinker easily describes, +although as yet he nowhere finds it, and such as will necessarily +shape itself with the first nation that is truly disenthralled--in +such a Polity evil will offer no advantages, but, on the contrary, the +most certain disadvantages; and the aberration of self-love into acts +of injustice will be suppressed by self-love itself. According to +infallible regulations, in such a State, all taking advantage of +and oppressing others, every act of self-aggrandizement at another's +expense is not only sure to be in vain--labor lost--but it reacts upon +the author, and he himself inevitably incurs the evil which he would +inflict upon others. Within his own State and outside of it, on the +whole face of the earth, he finds no one whom he can injure with +impunity. It is not, however, to be expected that any one will resolve +upon evil merely for evil's sake, notwithstanding he cannot accomplish +it and nothing but his own injury can result from the attempt. The +use of liberty for evil ends is done away. Man must either resolve +to renounce his liberty entirely--to become, with patience, a passive +wheel in the great machine of the whole--or he must apply his liberty +to that which is good. + +And thus, then, in a soil so prepared, the good will easily flourish. +When selfish aims no longer divide mankind, and their powers can no +longer be exercised in destroying one another in battle, nothing will +remain to them but to turn their united force against the common and +only adversary which yet remains--resisting, uncultivated Nature. No +longer separated by private ends, they will necessarily unite in one +common end, and there will grow up a body everywhere animated by one +spirit and one love. Every disadvantage of the individual, since it +can no longer be a benefit to any one, becomes an injury to the whole +and to each particular member of the same, and is felt in each member +with equal pain, and with equal activity redressed. Every advance +which one man makes, human nature, in its entirety, makes with him. + +Here, where the petty, narrow self of the person is already +annihilated by the Polity, every one loves every other one as truly as +himself, as a component part of that great _Self_ which alone remains +for him to love, and of which he is nothing but a component part, +which only through the Whole can gain or lose. Here the conflict of +evil with good is done away, for no evil can any longer spring up. +The contest of the good among themselves, even concerning the good, +vanishes, now that it has become easy to them to love the good for its +own sake, and not for their sakes, as the authors of it--now that the +only interest they can have is that it come to pass, that truth +be discovered, that the good deed be executed--not by whom it is +accomplished. Here every one is always prepared to join his power to +that of his neighbor, and to subordinate it to that of his neighbor. +Whoever, in the judgment of all, shall accomplish the best, in the +best way, him all will support and partake with equal joy in his +success. + +This is the aim of earthly existence which Reason sets before us, and +for the sure attainment of which Reason vouches. It is not a goal for +which we are to strive merely that our faculties may be exercised on +something great, but which we must relinquish all hope of realizing. +It shall and must be realized. At some time or other this goal must be +attained, as surely as there is a world of the senses, and a race of +reasonable beings in time, for whom no serious and rational object can +be imagined but this, and whose existence is made intelligible by this +alone. Unless the whole life of man is to be considered as the sport +of an evil Spirit, who implanted this ineradicable striving after +the imperishable in the breasts of poor wretches merely that he might +enjoy their ceaseless struggle after that which unceasingly flees +from them, their still repeated grasping after that which still +eludes their grasp, their restless driving about in an ever-returning +circle--and laugh at their earnestness in this senseless sport--unless +the wise man, who must soon see through this game and be tired of his +own part in it, is to throw away his life, and the moment of awakening +reason is to be the moment of earthly death--that goal must be +attained. O it is attainable in life and by means of life; for Reason +commands me to live. It is attainable, for I am. + + + + +III + +But now, when it is attained, when Humanity shall stand at the +goal--what then? There is no higher condition on earth than that. +The generation which first attains it can do nothing further than to +persist in it, maintain it with all their powers, and die and leave +descendants who shall do the same that they have done, and who, in +their turn, shall leave descendants that shall do the same. Humanity +would then stand still in its course. Therefore its earthly goal +cannot be its highest goal, for this earthly goal is intelligible, and +attainable, and finite. Though we consider the preceding generations +as means of developing the last and perfected, still we cannot escape +the inquiry of earnest Reason: "Wherefore then these last?" Given a +human race on the earth, its existence must indeed be in accordance +with Reason, and not contrary to it. It must become all that it can +become on earth. But why should it exist at all--this human race? Why +might it not as well have remained in the womb of the Nothing? Reason +is not for the sake of existence, but existence for the sake of +Reason. An existence which does not, in itself, satisfy Reason and +solve all her questions, cannot possibly be the true one. + +Then, too, are the actions commanded by the voice of Conscience, whose +dictates I must not speculate about, but obey in silence--are they +actually the means, and the only means, of accomplishing the earthly +aim of mankind? That I cannot refer them to any other object but this, +that I can have no other intent with them, is unquestionable. But is +this, my intent, fulfilled in every case? Is nothing more needed but +to will the best, in order that it may be accomplished? Alas! most of +our good purposes are, for this world, entirely lost, and some of +them seem even to have an entirely opposite effect to that which was +proposed. On the other hand, the most despicable passions of men, +their vices and their misdeeds, seem often to bring about the good +more surely than the labors of the just man, who never consents to do +evil that good may come. It would seem that the highest good of the +world grows and thrives quite independently of all human virtues or +vices, according to laws of its own, by some invisible and unknown +power, just as the heavenly bodies run through their appointed course, +independently of all human effort; and that this power absorbs into +its own higher plan all human designs, whether good or ill, and, +by its superior strength, appropriates what was intended for other +purposes to its own ends. + +If, therefore, the attainment of that earthly goal could be the design +of our existence, and if no further question concerning it remained +to Reason, that aim, at least, would not be ours, but the aim of that +unknown Power. We know not at any moment what may promote it. Nothing +would be left us but to supply to that Power, by our actions, so much +material, no matter what, to work up in its own way, for its own ends. +Our highest wisdom would be, not to trouble ourselves about things +in which we have no concern, but to live, in each case, as the fancy +takes us, and quietly leave the consequences to that Power. The moral +law within us would be idle and superfluous, and wholly unsuited to a +being that had no higher capacity and no higher destination. In order +to be at one with ourselves, we should refuse obedience to the voice +of that law and suppress it as a perverse and mad enthusiasm. + + * * * * * + +If the whole design of our existence were to bring about a purely +earthly condition of our race, all that would be required would be +some infallible mechanism to direct our action; and we need be nothing +more than wheels well fitted to the whole machine. Freedom would then +not only be useless, but even contrary to the purpose of existence; +and good-will would be quite superfluous. The world, in that case, +would be very clumsily contrived--would proceed to its goal with waste +of power and by circuitous paths. Rather, mighty World-Spirit, hadst +thou taken from us this freedom, which, only with difficulty and by a +different arrangement, thou canst fit to thy plans, and compelled us +at once to act as those plans required! Thou wouldst then arrive at +thy goal by the shortest road, as the meanest of the inhabitants of +thy worlds can tell thee. + +But I am free, and therefore such a concatenation of cause and effect, +in which freedom is absolutely superfluous and useless, cannot exhaust +my whole destination. I must be free; for not the mechanical act, but +the free determination of free-will, for the sake of the command +alone and absolutely for no other purpose (so says the inward voice of +conscience)--this alone determines our true worth. The band with which +the law binds me is a band for living spirits. It scorns to rule +over dead mechanism, and applies itself alone to the living and +self-acting. Such obedience it demands. This obedience cannot be +superfluous. + +And, herewith, the eternal world rises more brightly before me, and +the fundamental law of its order stands clear before the eye of my +mind. In that world the _will_, purely and only, as it lies, locked up +from all eyes, in the secret dark of my soul, is the first link in a +chain of consequences which runs through the whole invisible world +of spirits; so in the earthly world the _deed_, a certain movement +of matter, becomes the first link in a material chain which extends +through the whole system of matter. The will is the working and living +principle in the world of Reason, as motion is the working and living +principle in the world of the senses. I stand in the centre of two +opposite worlds, a visible in which the deed, and an invisible, +altogether incomprehensible, in which the will, decides. I am one +of the original forces for both these worlds. My will is that which +embraces both. This will is in and of itself a constituent portion of +the supersensuous world. When I put it in motion by a resolution, I +move and change something in that world, and my activity flows on over +the whole and produces something new and ever-during which then exists +and needs not to be made anew. This will breaks forth into a material +act, and this act belongs to the world of the senses, and effects, in +that, what it can. + +I have not to wait until after I am divorced from the connection +of the earthly world to gain admission into that which is above +the earth. I am and live in it already, far more truly than in the +earthly. Even now it is my only firm standing-ground, and the eternal +life, which I have long since taken possession of, is the only +reason why I am willing still to prolong the earthly. That which +they denominate Heaven lies not beyond the grave. It is already here, +diffused around our Nature, and its light arises in every pure heart. +My will is mine, and it is the only thing that is entirely mine and +depends entirely upon myself. By it I am already a citizen of the +kingdom of liberty and of self-active Reason. My conscience, the tie +by which that world holds me unceasingly and binds me to itself, tells +me at every moment what determination of my will (the only thing +by which, here in the dust, I can lay hold of that kingdom) is most +consonant with its order; and it depends entirely upon myself to give +myself the destination enjoined upon me. I cultivate myself then for +this world, and, accordingly, work in it and for it, while cultivating +one of its members. I pursue in it, and in it alone, without +vacillation or doubt, according to fixed rules, my aim--sure of +success, since there is no foreign power that opposes my intent. + + * * * * * + +That our good-will, in and for and through itself, must have +consequences, we know, even in this life; for Reason cannot require +anything without a purpose. But what these consequences are--nay, how +it is possible that a mere will can effect anything--is a question to +which we cannot even imagine a solution, so long as we are entangled +with this material world, and it is the part of wisdom not to +undertake an inquiry concerning which, we know beforehand, it must be +unsuccessful. + + * * * * * + +This then is my whole sublime destination, my true essence. I am a +member of two systems--a purely spiritual one, in which I rule by pure +will alone; and a sensuous one, in which I work by my deed. + + * * * * * + +These two systems, the purely spiritual and the sensuous--which last +may consist of an immeasurable series of particular lives--exist in +me from the moment in which my active reason is developed, and pursue +their parallel courses. The latter system is only an appearance, for +me and for those who share with me the same life. The former alone +gives to the latter meaning, and purpose, and value. I _am_ immortal, +imperishable, eternal, so soon as I form the resolution to obey the +law of Reason; and do not first have to _become_ so. The supersensuous +world is not a future world; it is present. It never can be more +present at any one point of finite existence than at any other point. +After an existence of myriad lives, it cannot be more present than at +this moment. Other conditions of my sensuous existence are to come; +but these are no more the true life than the present condition. By +means of that resolution I lay hold on eternity, and strip off this +life in the dust and all other sensuous lives that may await me, and +raise myself far above them. I become to myself the sole fountain +of all my being and of all my phenomena; and have henceforth, +unconditioned by aught without me, life in myself. My will, which +I myself, and no stranger, fit to the order of that world, is this +fountain of true life and of eternity. + +But only my will is this fountain; and only when I acknowledge this +will to be the true seat of moral excellence, and actually elevate it +to this excellence, do I attain to the certainty and the possession of +that supersensuous world. + + * * * * * + +The sense by which we lay hold on eternal life we acquire only by +renouncing and offering up sense, and the aims of sense, to the law +which claims our will alone, and not our acts--by renouncing it with +the conviction that to do so is reasonable and alone reasonable. With +this renunciation of the earthly, the belief in the eternal first +enters our soul and stands isolated there, as the only stay by which +we can still sustain ourselves when we have relinquished everything +else, as the only animating principle that still uplifts our hearts +and still inspires our life. Well was it said, in the metaphors of +a sacred doctrine, that man must first die to the world and be born +again, in order to enter into the kingdom of God. + +I see, oh, I see now, clear before mine eyes, the cause of my former +heedlessness and blindness concerning spiritual things! Filled with +earthly aims, and lost in them with all my scheming and striving; put +in motion and impelled only by the idea of a result, which is to be +actualized without us, by the desire of such a result and pleasure in +it--insensible and dead to the pure impulse of that Reason which gives +the law to itself, which sets before us a purely spiritual aim, the +immortal Psyche remains chained to the earth; her wings are bound. Our +philosophy becomes the history of our own heart and life. As we find +ourselves, so we imagine man in general and his destination. Never +impelled by any other motive than the desire of that which can be +realized in this world, there is no true liberty for us, no liberty +which has the reason for its destination absolutely and entirely in +itself. Our liberty, at the utmost, is that of the self-forming +plant, no higher in its essence, only more curious in its result, not +producing a form of matter with roots, leaves and blossoms, but a form +of mind with impulses, thoughts, actions. Of the true liberty we +are positively unable to comprehend anything, because we are not in +possession of it. Whenever we hear it spoken of, we draw the words +down to our own meaning, or briefly dismiss it with a sneer, as +nonsense. With the knowledge of liberty, the sense of another world +is also lost to us. Everything of this sort floats by like words which +are not addressed to us; like an ash-gray shadow without color or +meaning, which we cannot by any end take hold of and retain. Without +the least interest, we let everything go as it is stated. Or if ever +a robuster zeal impels us to consider it seriously, we see clearly and +can demonstrate that all those ideas are untenable, hollow visions, +which a man of sense casts from him. And, according to the premises +from which we set out and which are taken from our own innermost +experience, we are quite right, and are alike unanswerable and +unteachable, so long as we remain what we are. The excellent doctrines +which are current among the people, fortified with special authority, +concerning freedom, duty and eternal life, change themselves for us +into grotesque fables, like those of Tartarus and the Elysian fields, +although we do not disclose the true opinion of our hearts, because we +think it more advisable to keep the people in outward decency by means +of these images. Or if we are less reflective, and ourselves fettered +by the bands of authority, then we sink, ourselves, to the true +plebeian level, by believing that which, so understood, would be +foolish fable; and by finding, in those purely spiritual indications, +nothing but the promise of a continuance, to all eternity, of the same +miserable existence which we lead here below. + +To say all in a word: Only through a radical reformation of my will +does a new light arise upon my being and destination. Without this, +however much I may reflect, and however distinguished my mental +endowments, there is nothing but darkness in me and around me. The +reformation of the heart alone conducts to true wisdom. So then, let +my whole life be directed unrestrainedly toward this one end! + + + + +IV + +My lawful will, simply as such, in and through itself, must +have consequences, certain and without exception. Every dutiful +determination of my will, although no act should flow from it, must +operate in another, to me incomprehensible, world; and, except this +dutiful determination of the will, nothing can take effect in that +world. What do I suppose when I suppose this? What do I take for +granted? + +Evidently, a law, a rule absolutely and without exception valid, +according to which the dutiful will must have consequences. Just as in +the earthly world which environs me, I assume a law according to which +this ball, when impelled by my hand with this given force, in this +given direction, must necessarily move in such a direction, with a +determinate measure of rapidity, perhaps impel another ball with +this given degree of force by which the other ball moves on with a +determinate rapidity; and so on indefinitely. As in this case, with +the mere direction and movement of my hand, I know and comprehend all +the directions and movements which shall follow it, as certainly as if +they were already present and perceived by me; even so I comprise, in +my dutiful will, a series of necessary and infallible consequences +in the spiritual world, as if they were already present, only that I +cannot, as in the material world, determine them--i.e., I merely know +that they shall be, not how they shall be. I suppose a law of the +spiritual world, in which my mere will is one of the moving forces, +just as my hand is one of the moving forces in the material world. +That firmness of my confidence and the thought of this law of a +spiritual world are one and the same thing--not two thoughts of which +one is the consequence of the other, but precisely the same thought, +just as the certainty with which I count upon a certain motion, and +the thought of a mechanical law of Nature, are the same. The idea +of _Law_ expresses generally nothing else but the fixed, immovable +reliance of Reason on a proposition, and the impossibility of +supposing the contrary. + +I assume such a law of a spiritual world, which my own will did not +enact, nor the will of any finite being, nor the will of all finite +beings together, but to which my will and the will of all finite +beings is subject. + + * * * * * + +Agreeably to what has now been advanced, the law of the supersensuous +world should be a _Will_. + +A Will which acts purely and simply as will, by its own agency, +entirely without any instrument or sensuous medium of its efficacy; +which is absolutely, in itself, at once action and result; which +wills and it is done, which commands and it stands fast; in +which, accordingly, the demand of Reason to be absolutely free and +self-active is represented. A Will which is law in itself; which +determines itself, not according to humor and caprice, not after +previous deliberation, vacillation and doubt, but which is forever and +unchangeably determined, and upon which one may reckon with infallible +security, as the mortal reckons securely on the laws of his world. +A Will in which the lawful will of finite beings has inevitable +consequences, but only their will, which is immovable to everything +else, and for which everything else is as though it were not. + +That sublime Will, therefore, does not pursue its course for itself, +apart from the rest of Reason's world. There is between it and all +finite, rational beings, a spiritual tie, and that Will itself is +this spiritual tie of Reason's world. I will, purely and decidedly, my +duty, and it then wills that I shall succeed, at least in the world of +spirits. Every lawful resolve of the finite will enters into it, +and moves and determines it--to speak after our fashion--not in +consequence of a momentary good pleasure, but in consequence of the +eternal law of its being. + +With astounding clearness it now stands before my soul, the thought +which hitherto had been wrapped in darkness--the thought that my will, +merely as such, and of itself, has consequences. It has consequences +because it is infallibly and immediately taken knowledge of by another +related Will, which is itself an act and the only life-principle of +the spiritual world. In that Will it has its first consequence, and +only through that, in the rest of the spiritual world which, in all +its parts, is but the product of that infinite Will. + +Thus I flow--the mortal must use the language of mortals--thus I flow +in upon that Will; and the voice of conscience in my inmost being, +which, in every situation of my life, instructs me what I have to do +in that situation, is that by means of which it, in turn, flows +in upon me. That voice is the oracle from the eternal world, made +sensible by my environment, and translated, by my reception of it, +into my language; which announces to me how I must fit myself to my +part in the order of the spiritual world, or to the infinite Will, +which itself is the order of that spiritual world. I cannot oversee or +see through this spiritual order; nor need I. I am only a link in its +chain, and can no more judge of the whole than a single tone in a song +can judge of the harmony of the whole. But what I myself should be, in +the harmony of Spirits, I must know; for only I myself can make myself +that, and it is immediately revealed to me by a voice which sounds +over to me from that world. Thus I stand in connection with the only +being that _exists_, and partake of its being. There is nothing truly +real, permanent, imperishable in me, but these two--the voice of my +conscience and my free obedience. By means of the first, the spiritual +world bows down to me and embraces me, as one of its members. By means +of the second, I raise myself into this world, lay hold of it, and +work in it. But that infinite Will is the mediator between it and me; +for, of it and me, that Will is the primal fountain. This is the only +true and imperishable reality, toward which my soul moves from its +inmost depth. All else is only phenomenon, and vanishes and returns +again, with new seeming. + +This Will connects me with itself. The same connects me with all +finite beings of my species, and is the universal mediator between +us all. That is the great mystery of the invisible world, and +its fundamental law, so far as it is a world or system of several +individual wills: _Union and direct reciprocal action of several +self-subsisting and independent wills among one another_--a mystery +which, even in the present life, lies clear before all eyes, without +any one's noticing it or thinking it worthy his admiration! The voice +of Conscience, which enjoins upon each one his proper duty, is the ray +by which we proceed from the Infinite and are set forth as individual +particular beings. It defines the boundaries of our personality; it +is, therefore, our true original constituent, the foundation and the +stuff of all the life which we live. + + * * * * * + +That eternal Will, then, is indeed world-creator, as he alone can +be--in the finite reason (the only creation which is needed). They who +suppose him to build a world out of eternal inert matter, which world, +in that case, could be nothing else but inert and lifeless, like +implements fashioned by human hands and not an eternal process of +self-development, or who think they can imagine the going forth of a +material something out of nothing, know neither the world nor him. If +matter only is something, then there is nowhere anything, and nowhere, +in all eternity, can anything be. Only Reason _is_: the infinite +reason in itself, and the finite in and through the infinite. Only in +our minds does he create the world, or, at least, that from which we +unfold it, and that whereby we unfold it--the call to duty, and the +feelings, perceptions and laws of thought agreeing therewith. It is +_his_ light whereby we see light and all that appears to us in that +light. In our minds he is continually fashioning this world, and +interposing in it by interposing in our minds with the call of duty, +whenever another free agent effects a change therein. In our minds he +maintains this world, and, therewith, our finite existence, of which +alone we are capable, in that he causes to arise out of our states new +states continually. After he has proved us sufficiently for our next +destination, according to his higher aim, and when we shall have +cultivated ourselves for the same, he will annihilate this world for +us by what we call death, and introduce us into a new one, the product +of our dutiful action in this. All our life is his life. We are in +his hand, and remain in it, and no one can pluck us out of it. We are +eternal because he is eternal. + +Sublime, living Will, whom no name can name, and whom no conception +can grasp!--well may I raise my mind to thee, for thou and I are not +divided. Thy voice sounds in me, and mine sounds back in thee; and all +my thoughts, if only they are true and good, are thought in thee. In +thee, the Incomprehensible, I become comprehensible to myself, and +entirely comprehend the world. All the riddles of my existence are +solved, and the most perfect harmony arises in my mind. + +Thou art best apprehended by childlike simplicity, devoted to thee. +To it thou art the heart-searcher who lookest through its innermost +thoughts; the all-present, faithful witness of its sentiments, who +alone knowest that it meaneth well, and who alone understandest it, +when misunderstood by all the world. Thou art to it a Father, whose +purposes toward it are ever kind, and who will order everything for +its best good. It submitteth itself wholly, with body and soul, to thy +beneficent decrees. Do with me as thou wilt, it saith, I know that it +shall be good, so surely as it is thou that dost it. The speculative +understanding, which has only heard of thee but has never seen thee, +would teach us to know thy being in itself, and sets before us an +inconsistent monster which it gives out for thine image, ridiculous to +the merely knowing, hateful and detestable to the wise and good. + +I veil my face before thee and lay my hand upon my mouth. How thou art +in thyself, and how thou appearest to thyself, I can never know, +as surely as I can never be thou. After thousand times thousand +spirit-lives lived through, I shall no more be able to comprehend thee +than now, in this hut of earth. That which I comprehend becomes, by my +comprehension of it, finite; and this can never, by an endless process +of magnifying and exalting, be changed into infinite. Thou differest +from the finite, not only in degree but in kind. By that magnifying +process they make thee only a greater and still greater man, but never +God, the Infinite, incapable of measure. + + * * * * * + +I will not attempt that which is denied to me by my finite nature, +and which could avail me nothing. I desire not to know how thou art +in thyself. But thy relations and connections with me, the finite, +and with all finite beings, lie open to mine eye, when I become what +I should be. They encompass me with a more luminous clearness than the +consciousness of my own being. Thou workest in me the knowledge of my +duty, of my destination in the series of rational beings. How? I know +not, and need not to know. Thou knowest and perceivest what I think +and will. How thou canst know it--by what act thou bringest this +consciousness to pass--on that point I comprehend nothing. Yea, I know +very well that the idea of an act, of a special act of consciousness, +applies only to me but not to thee, the Infinite. Thou willest, +because thou willest, that my free obedience shall have consequences +in all eternity. The act of thy will I cannot comprehend; I only know +that it is not like to mine. Thou _doest_, and thy will itself is +deed. But thy method of action is directly contrary to that of which, +alone, I can form a conception. Thou _livest_ and _art_, for thou +knowest, and willest, and workest, omnipresent to finite Reason. But +thou art not such as through all eternity I shall alone be able to +conceive of Being. + +In the contemplation of these thy relations to me, the finite, I will +be calm and blessed. I know immediately, only what I must do. This +will I perform undisturbed and joyful, and without philosophizing. +For it is thy voice which commands me, it is the ordination of the +spiritual world-plan concerning me, and the power by which I perform +it is thy power. Whatsoever is commanded me by that voice, whatsoever +is accomplished by this power, is surely and truly good in relation to +that plan. I am calm in all the events of this world, for they occur +in thy world. Nothing can deceive, or surprise, or make me afraid, so +surely as thou livest and I behold thy life. For in thee and through +thee, O infinite One, I behold even my present world in another light! +Nature and natural consequences in the destinies and actions of free +beings, in view of thee, are empty, unmeaning words. There is no +Nature more. Thou, thou alone, art. + +It no longer appears to me the aim of the present world that the +above-mentioned state of universal peace among men, and of their +unconditioned empire over the mechanism of Nature, should be brought +about merely that it may exist, but that it should be brought about +by man himself, and, since it is calculated for all, then it should be +brought about by all, as one great, free, moral community. Nothing +new and better for the individual, except through his dutiful will, +nothing new and better for the community, except through their united, +dutiful will, is the fundamental law of the great moral kingdom of +which the present life is a part. + +The reason why the good-will of the individual is so often lost for +this world, is that it is only the will of the individual, and that +the will of the majority does not coincide with it; therefore it has +no consequences but those which belong to a future world. Hence, even +the passions and vices of men appear to coöperate in the promotion of +a better state, _not in and for themselves_--in this sense good can +never come out of evil--but by furnishing a counter-poise to opposite +vices, and finally annihilating those vices and themselves by their +preponderance. Oppression could never have gained the upper hand +unless cowardice, and baseness, and mutual distrust had prepared the +way for it. It will continue to increase until it eradicates cowardice +and the slavish mind; and despair re-awakens the courage that was +lost. Then the two antagonistic vices will have destroyed each other, +and the noblest in all human relations, permanent freedom, will have +come forth from them. + +The actions of free beings have, strictly speaking, no other +consequences than those which affect other free beings. For only in +such, and for such, does a world exist; and that, wherein all agree, +is the world. But they have consequences in free agents only by +means of the infinite Will, by which all individuals exist. A call, a +revelation of that Will to us, is always a requirement to perform some +particular duty. Hence, even that which we call evil in the world, the +consequence of the abuse of freedom, exists only through _him_; and it +exists for all, for whom it exists, only so far as it imposes duties +upon them. Did it not fall within the eternal plan of our moral +education and the education of our whole race that precisely these +duties should be laid upon us, they would not have been imposed; and +that whereby they are imposed, and which we call evil, would never +have been. In this view, everything which takes place is good, and +absolutely accordant with the best ends. There is but one world +possible--a thoroughly good one. Everything that occurs in this world +conduces to the reformation and education of man, and, by means of +that, to the furtherance of his earthly destination. + +It is this higher world-plan that we call Nature, when we say Nature +leads men through want to industry, through the evils of general +disorder to a righteous polity, through the miseries of their +perpetual wars to final, ever-during peace. Thy will, O Infinite, thy +providence alone, is this higher Nature! This too is best understood +by artless simplicity, which regards this life as a place of +discipline and education, as a school for eternity; which, in all +the fortunes it experiences, the most trivial as well as the most +momentous, beholds thy ordinations designed for good; and which firmly +believes that all things will work together for good to those who love +their duty and know thee. + +O truly have I spent the former days of my life in darkness! Truly +have I heaped errors upon errors, and thought myself wise! Now only +out of thy mouth, wondrous Spirit, I fully understand the doctrine +which seemed so strange to me![3] although my understanding had +nothing to oppose to it. For now only I overlook it, in its whole +extent, in its deepest meaning, and in all its consequences. + +Man is not a product of the world of the senses; and the end of his +existence can never be attained in that world. His destination lies +beyond time and space and all that pertains to the senses. He must +know what he is and what he is to make himself. As his destination +is sublime, so his thought must be able to lift itself above all the +bounds of the senses. This must be his calling. Where his being is +indigenous, there his thought must be indigenous also; and the most +truly human view, that which alone befits him, that in which his whole +power of thought is represented, is the view by which he lifts himself +above those limits, by which all that is of the senses is changed for +him into pure nothing, a mere reflection in mortal eyes of the alone +enduring, non-sensuous. + +Many have been elevated to this view without scientific thought, +simply by their great heart and their pure moral instinct; because +they lived especially with the heart, and in the sentiments. They +denied, by their conduct, the efficacy and reality of the world of +the senses; and in the shaping of their purposes and measures, they +esteemed as nothing that concerning which they had not yet learned by +thinking that it is nothing, even to thought. They who could say, "our +citizenship is in heaven; we have here no permanent place, but seek +one to come;" they whose first principle was, to die to the world and +to be born anew, and, even here, to enter into another life--they, +truly, placed not the slightest value upon all the objects of sense, +and were, to use the language of the School, practical transcendental +Idealists. + +Others who, in addition to the sensuous activity which is native to +us all, have, by their thought, confirmed themselves in the sensuous, +become implicated, and, as it were, grown together with it; they can +raise themselves permanently and perfectly above the sensuous only by +continuing and carrying out their thought. Otherwise, with the +purest moral intentions, they will still be drawn down again by their +understanding, and their whole being will remain a continued and +insoluble contradiction. For such, that philosophy, which I now first +entirely understand, is the power by which Psyche first strips off her +chrysalis, unfolds the wings on which she then hovers above herself, +and casts one glance on the slough she has dropped, thenceforth to +live and work in higher spheres. + +Blessed be the hour in which I resolved to meditate on myself and my +destination! All my questions are solved. I know what I can know, +and I am without anxiety concerning that which I cannot know. I am +satisfied. There is perfect harmony and clearness in my spirit, and a +new and more glorious existence for that spirit begins. + +My whole, complete destination, I do not comprehend. What I am +called to be and shall be, surpasses all my thought. A part of this +destination is yet hidden to me, visible only to him, the Father of +Spirits, to whom it is committed. I know only that it is secured to +me, and that it is eternal and glorious as himself. But that portion +of it which is committed to me, I know. I know it entirely, and it +is the root of all my other knowledge. I know, in every moment of my +life, with certainty, what I am to do in that moment. And this is my +whole destination, so far as it depends upon me. From this, since my +knowledge goes no farther, I must not depart. I must not desire to +know anything beyond it. I must stand fast in this one centre, and +take root in it. All my scheming and striving, and all my faculty, +must be directed to that. My whole existence must inweave itself with +it. + + * * * * * + +I raise myself to this viewpoint, and am a new creature. My whole +relation to the existing world is changed. The threads by which my +mind was heretofore bound to this world, and by whose mysterious +traction it followed all the movements of this world, are forever +severed, and I stand free--myself, my own world, peaceful and unmoved. +No longer with the heart, with the eye alone, I seize the objects +about me, and, through the eye alone, am connected with them. And this +eye itself, made clearer by freedom, looks through error and deformity +to the true and the beautiful; as, on the unmoved surface of the +water, forms mirror themselves pure and with a softened light. + +My mind is forever closed against embarrassment and confusion, against +doubt and anxiety; my heart is forever closed against sorrow, and +remorse, and desire. There is but one thing that I care to know: What +I must do; and this I know, infallibly, always. Concerning all besides +I know nothing, and I know that I know nothing; and I root myself fast +in this my ignorance, and forbear to conjecture, to opine, to quarrel +with myself concerning that of which I know nothing. No event in this +world can move me to joy, and none to sorrow. Cold and unmoved I look +down upon them all; for I know that I cannot interpret one of them, +nor discern its connection with that which is my only concern. +Everything which takes place belongs to the plan of the eternal world, +and is good in relation to that plan; so much I know. But what, in +that plan, is pure gain, and what is only meant to remove existing +evil, accordingly what I should most or least rejoice in, I know not. +In his world everything succeeds. This suffices me, and in this faith +I stand firm as a rock. But what in his world is only germ, what +blossom, what the fruit itself, I know not. The only thing which can +interest me is the progress of reason and morality in the kingdom of +rational beings--and that purely for its own sake, for the sake of the +progress. Whether _I_ am the instrument of this progress or another, +whether it is my act which succeeds or is thwarted, or whether it is +the act of another, is altogether indifferent to me. I regard myself +in every case but as one of the instruments of a rational design, and +I honor and love myself, and am interested in myself, only as such; +and I wish the success of my act only so far as it goes to accomplish +that end. Therefore I regard all the events of this world in the same +manner and only with exclusive reference to this one end--whether +they proceed from me or from another, whether they relate to me +immediately, or to others. My breast is closed against all vexation +on account of personal mortifications and affronts, against all +exaltation on account of personal merits; for my entire personality +has long since vanished and been swallowed up in the contemplation of +the end. + + * * * * * + +Bodily sufferings, pain and sickness, should such befal me, I cannot +avoid to feel, for they are events of my nature, and I am and remain +nature here below. But they shall not trouble me. They affect only the +Nature with which I am, in some strange way, connected; not myself, +the being which is elevated above all Nature. The sure end of all +pain, and of all susceptibility of pain, is death; and of all which +the natural man is accustomed to regard as evil, this is the least so +to me. Indeed, I shall not die for myself, but only for others, for +those that remain behind, from whose connection I am severed. For +myself, the hour of death is the hour of birth to a new and more +glorious life. + +Since my heart is thus closed to all desire for the earthly, since, +in fact, I have no longer any heart for the perishable, the universe +appears to my eye in a transfigured form. The dead inert mass which +but choked up space has vanished; and, instead thereof, flows, and +waves, and rushes the eternal stream of life, and power, and deed--of +the original life, of thy life, O Infinite! For all life is thy life, +and only the religious eye pierces to the kingdom of veritable beauty. + +I am related to thee, and all that I behold around me is related +to me. All is quick, all is soul, and gazes upon me with bright +spirit-eyes, and speaks in spirit-tones to my heart. Most diversely +sundered and severed, I behold, in all the forms without me, myself +again, and beam upon myself from them, as the morning sun, in thousand +dew-drops diversely refracted, glitters back toward itself. + +Thy life, as the finite being can apprehend it, is volition which +shapes and represents itself by means of itself alone. This life, made +sensible in various ways to mortal eyes, flows through me and from me +downward, through the immeasurable whole of Nature. Here it streams, +as self-creating, self-fashioning matter, through my veins and +muscles, and deposits its fulness outside of me, in the tree, in +the plant, in the grass. As one connected stream, drop by drop, the +forming life flows in all shapes and on all sides, wherever my eye can +follow it, and looks upon me, from every point of the universe, with +a different aspect, as the same force which fashions my own body in +darkness and in secret. Yonder it waves free, and leaps and dances as +self-forming motion in the brute; and, in every new body, represents +itself as another separate, self-subsisting world--the same power +which, invisible to me, stirs and moves in my own members. All that +lives follows this universal current, this one principle of all +movement, which transmits the harmonious concussion from one end of +the universe to the other. The brute follows it without freedom. +I, from whom, in the visible world, the movement proceeds (without, +therefore, originating in me), follow it freely. + +But, pure and holy, and near to thine own essence as aught, to mortal +apprehension, can be, this thy life flows forth as a band which binds +spirits with spirits in one, as air and ether of the one world of +Reason, inconceivable and incomprehensible, and yet lying plainly +revealed to the spiritual eye. Conducted by this light-stream, thought +floats unrestrained and the same from soul to soul, and returns purer +and transfigured from the kindred breast. Through this mystery the +individual finds, and understands, and loves himself, only in another; +and every spirit detaches itself only from other spirits; and there +is no man, but only a Humanity; no isolated thinking, and loving, and +hating, but only a thinking, and loving, and hating in and through +one another. Through this mystery the affinity of spirits, in the +invisible world, streams forth into their corporeal nature, and +represents itself in two sexes, which, though every spiritual band +could be severed, are still constrained, as natural beings, to love +each other. It flows forth into the affection of parents and children, +of brothers and sisters, as if the souls were sprung from one blood as +well as the bodies--as if the minds were branches and blossoms of the +same stem; and from thence it embraces, in narrower or wider circles, +the whole sentient world. Even the hatred of spirits is grounded in +thirst for love; and no enmity springs up, except from friendship +denied. + +Mine eye discerns this eternal life and motion, in all the veins of +sensuous and spiritual Nature, through what seems to others a dead +mass. And it sees this life forever ascend, and grow, and transfigure +itself into a more spiritual expression of its own nature. The +universe is no longer, to me, that circle which returns into itself, +that game which repeats itself without ceasing, that monster which +devours itself in order to reproduce itself as it was before. It is +spiritualized to my contemplation, and bears the peculiar impress of +the spirit--continual progress toward perfection, in a straight line +which stretches into infinity. + +The sun rises and sets, the stars vanish and return again, and all the +spheres hold their cycle-dance. But they never return precisely such +as they disappeared; and in the shining fountains of life there is +also life and progress. Every hour which they bring, every morning and +every evening, sinks down with new blessings on the world. New life +and new love drop from the spheres, as dew-drops from the cloud, and +embrace Nature, as the cool night embraces the earth. + +All death in Nature is birth; and precisely in dying the sublimation +of life appears most conspicuous. There is no death-bringing principle +in Nature, for Nature is only life, throughout. Not death kills, but +the more living life, which, hidden behind the old, begins and unfolds +itself. Death and birth are only the struggle of life with itself to +manifest itself in ever more transfigured form, more like itself. + +And _my_ death--can that be anything different from this?--I, who am +not a mere representation and copy of life, but who bear within myself +the original, the alone true and essential life! It is not a possible +thought that Nature should annihilate a life which did not spring from +her--Nature, which exists only for my sake, not I for hers. + +But even my natural life, even this mere representation of an inward +invisible life to mortal eyes, Nature cannot annihilate; otherwise she +must be able to annihilate herself--she who exists only for me and for +my sake, and who ceases to exist, if I am not. Even because she puts +me to death she must quicken me anew. It can be only my higher life, +unfolding itself in her, before which my present life disappears; and +that which mortals call death is the visible appearing of a second +vivification. Did no rational being, who has once beheld its light, +perish from the earth, there would be no reason to expect a new heaven +and a new earth. The only possible aim of Nature, that of representing +and maintaining Reason, would have been already fulfilled here below, +and her circle would be complete. But the act by which she puts to +death a free, self-subsisting being, is her solemn--to all Reason +apparent--transcending of that act, and of the entire sphere which she +thereby closes. The apparition of death is the conductor by which my +spiritual eye passes over to the new life of myself, and of a Nature +for me. + +Every one of my kind who passes from earthly connections, and who +cannot, to my spirit, seem annihilated, because he is one of my kind, +draws my thought over with him. He still is, and to him belongs a +place. + +While we, here below, sorrow for him with such sorrow as would be +felt, if possible, in the dull kingdom of unconsciousness, when a +human being withdraws himself from thence to the light of earth's +sun--while we so mourn, on yonder side there is joy because a man is +born into their world; as we citizens of earth receive with joy our +own. When I, some time, shall follow them, there will be for me only +joy; for sorrow remains behind, in the sphere which I quit. + +It vanishes and sinks before my gaze--the world which I so lately +admired. With all the fulness of life, of order, of increase, which +I behold in it, it is but the curtain by which an infinitely more +perfect world is concealed from me. It is but the germ out of which +that infinitely more perfect shall unfold itself. My faith enters +behind this curtain, and warms and quickens this germ. It sees nothing +definite, but expects more than it can grasp here below, than it will +ever be able to grasp in time. + +So I live and so I am; and so I am unchangeable, firm and complete +for all eternity. For this being is not one which I have received from +without; it is my own only true being and essence. + + + + +ADDRESSES TO THE GERMAN NATION + +(1807 to 1808) + +TRANSLATED BY LOUIS H. GRAY, PH.D. + +ADDRESS EIGHT + +The Definition of a Nation in the Higher Sense of the Word, and of +Patriotism + + +The last four addresses have answered the question, What is the German +as contrasted with other nations of Teutonic origin? The argument will +be complete if we further add the examination of the question, What is +a nation? The latter question is identical with another, and, at the +same time, the other question, which has often been propounded and +has been answered in very different ways, helps in the solution. This +question is, What is patriotism, or, as it would be more correctly +expressed, What is the love of the individual for his nation? + +If we have thus far proceeded aright in the course of our +investigation, it must become obvious therefrom that only the +German--the primitive man, not he who has become petrified by +arbitrary laws and institutions--really has a nation and is entitled +to count on one, and that only he is capable of real and rational love +for his nation. + +We smooth our way to a solution of our proposed task by means of the +following remark, which appears, at first sight, to lie outside the +context of our previous discussion. + +As we have already observed in our third address, religion is able +absolutely to transport us above all time and above the whole of +present and perceptual life without doing the least injury to the +justice, morality, and holiness of the life influenced by this belief. +Even with the certain conviction that all our activity on this earth +will not leave the least trace behind it and will not produce the +slightest results, and even with the belief that the divine may +actually be perverse and may be used as a tool of evil and of still +deeper moral corruption, it is, nevertheless, possible to continue +in this activity simply in order to maintain the divine life that +has come forth within us and that stands in relation to a higher +governance of things in a future world where nothing perishes that +has been done in God. Thus, for instance, the apostles and the first +Christians generally, even while living, were wholly transported +above the earth because of their belief in heaven; and affairs +terrestrial--state, fatherland, and nation--were so entirely renounced +that they no longer deemed such trivial concerns worthy even of their +consideration. However possible this may be, however easy, moreover, +for faith, and however joyfully we may resign ourselves to the +conviction, since it is unalterably the will of God, that we have +no more an earthly country but are exiles and slaves here +below--nevertheless, this is not the natural condition and the rule +governing the course of the world, but is a rare exception. Moreover, +it is a very perverse use of religion (and, among others, Christianity +has frequently been guilty of it) when, as a question of principle and +without regard to the existent circumstances, it proceeds to commend +this withdrawal from the affairs of the state and of the nation as a +truly religious sentiment. Under such conditions, if they are true and +real and not perhaps induced merely by religious fanaticism, temporal +life loses all its independence and becomes simply a fore-court of +the true life and a hard trial to be borne only by obedience and +submission to the will of God; in this view it becomes true that, +as has been claimed by many, immortal souls have been plunged into +earthly bodies, as into prisons, simply as a punishment. In the +regular order of things, however, earthly life should itself truly be +life in which we may rejoice and which we may thankfully enjoy, even +though in expectation of a higher life; and although it is true that +religion is also the comfort of the slave illegally oppressed, yet, +above all things, the essence of religion is to oppose slavery and to +prevent, so far as possible, its deterioration to a mere consolation +of the captive. It is doubtless to the interest of the tyrant to +preach religious resignation and to refer to heaven those to whom he +will not grant a tiny place on earth; we must, however, be less hasty +to adopt the view of religion recommended by the tyrant, for, if +we can, we must forestall the making of earth into hell in order to +arouse a still greater longing for heaven. + +The natural impulse of man, to be surrendered only in case of real +necessity, is to find heaven already on this earth and to amalgamate +into his earthly work day by day that which lasts forever; to plant +and to cultivate the imperishable in the temporal itself--not merely +in an unconceivable way, connected with the eternal solely by the gulf +which mortal eyes may not pass, but in a manner which is visible to +the mortal eye itself. + +That I may begin with this generally intelligible example--what +noble-minded man does not wish and aspire to repeat his own life in +better wise in his children and, again, in their children, and still +to continue to live upon this earth, ennobled and perfected in their +lives, long after he is dead; to wrest from mortality the spirit, +the mind, and the character with which in his day he perchance put +perversity and corruption to flight, established uprightness, aroused +sluggishness, and uplifted dejection, and to deposit these, as his +best legacy to posterity, in the spirits of his survivors, in order +that, in their turn, they may again bequeath them equally adorned and +augmented? What noble-minded man does not wish, by act or thought, +to sow a seed for the infinite and eternal perfecting of his race; +to cast into Time something new and hitherto non-existent, which +may abide there and become the unfailing source of new creations; +to repay, for his place on this earth and for the short span of +life vouchsafed him, something that shall last forever even here on +earth--to the end that he as an individual, even though unnamed by +history (since thirst for fame is contemptible vanity), may leave +behind in his own consciousness and in his own belief manifest tokens +that he himself existed? What noble-minded man does not wish this, +I asked; yet the world is to be considered as organized only in +accordance with the requirements of those who thus view themselves as +the norm of how all men should be. It is for their sakes alone that +the world exists! They are indeed its kernel; and those who think +otherwise must be regarded as merely a part of the transitory world so +long as they reason on so low a plane, for they exist merely for the +sake of the noble-minded and must accommodate themselves to the latter +until they have risen to their height. + +What, now, could it be that might give solid foundation to this +challenge and to this belief of the noble in the eternity and the +imperishability of his work? Obviously, only an order of things which +he could recognize as eternal in itself and as capable of receiving +eternal elements within itself. Such an order is, however, the +special, spiritual nature of human surroundings, which can, it is +true, be comprised in no concept, but which is, nevertheless, truly +present--the surroundings from which he has himself come forth with +all his thought and activity and with his faith in their eternity--the +nation from which he is descended, amid which he was educated and grew +up to what he now is. For however undoubtedly true it may be that his +work, if he rightly lays claim to its eternity, is in no wise the mere +result of the spiritual, natural law of his nation, simply merging +into this result--no, it must be thought of as an element greater +than that--a something which flows immediately from the primitive +and divine life. Nevertheless, it is equally true that this something +more, immediately after its formation as a visible phenomenon, has +subordinated itself to that special spiritual law of nature, has +acquired a perceptual expression only in accordance with that law. +Under this same natural law, so long as this nation endures, all +further revelations of the divine will also appear and be formed +within it. Yet, through the fact that the man existed and so labored, +this law itself is further determined, and his activity has become +a permanent component of it; everything subsequent will likewise be +compelled to adapt itself accordingly and to conform to the law in +question. And thus he is made certain that the culture which he has +achieved remains with his nation for all time and becomes a permanent +basis of determination for all its further development. + +In the higher conception of the word considered in general from the +viewpoint of an insight into a spiritual world, a nation is this: The +totality of human beings living together in society and constantly +perpetuating themselves both bodily and spiritually; and this totality +stands altogether under a certain specific law through which the +divine develops itself. The universality of this specific law is what +binds this multitude into a natural totality, inter-penetrated by +itself, in the eternal world, and, for that very reason, in the +temporal world as well. The law itself, in its essence, can be +generally comprehended as we have applied it to the case of the +Germans as a primal nation; through consideration of the phenomena +of such a nation it may be even more exactly grasped in many of its +further determinations; yet it can never be entirely understood by any +one who, unknown to himself, personally remains continually under its +influence; it may in general, however, be clearly perceived that +such a law exists. This law is a surplus of the figurative +which amalgamates directly with the surplus of the unfigurative +primitiveness in the phenomenon, and thus, precisely in the +phenomenon, both are then no longer separable. That law absolutely +determines and completes what has been called the national character +of a people--the law, namely, of the development of the primitive and +of the divine. From the latter it is clear that men who do not in the +least believe in a primitive being and in a further development of +it, but simply in an eternal circle of visible life, and who, through +their belief, become what they believe, are no nation whatsoever in +the higher sense; and since they do not, strictly speaking, actually +exist, they are equally powerless to possess a national character. + +The belief of the noble-minded man in the eternal continuance of his +activity, even upon this earth, is based, accordingly, on the hope +for the eternal continuance of the nation from which he has himself +developed, and of its individuality in accordance with that hidden +law, without intermixture and corruption by any alien element and +by what does not appertain to the totality of this legislation. +This individuality is the permanent element to which he intrusts the +eternity of himself and of his continued action--the eternal order +of things in which he lays his perpetuity. He must desire its +continuance, for it is alone the releasing agency whereby the brief +span of his life here is extended to a continuous life upon the earth. +His belief and his endeavor to plant what shall not pass away, and +the concept in which he comprehends his own life as an eternal life, +constitute the bond which most intimately associates with himself, +first, his own nation and, through that, the entire human race--which +brings the needs of them all, to the end of time, into his broadened +heart. This is his love for his nation, and through it, first, he +respects, trusts, rejoices in it, and takes pride in his descent from +it; the Divine has appeared in it, and has deigned to make it his +covering and his means of direct communication with the world; the +Divine, therefore, will continue to break forth from it. Therefore +man is, secondly, active, efficacious, and self-sacrificing for his +nation. Life, simply as life, as a continuance of changing existence, +has certainly never possessed value for him apart from this--he has +desired it merely as the source of the permanent. This permanence, +however, alone promises him the independent continuance of the +existence of his nation; and to save this he must even be willing to +die that it may live, and that in it he may live the only life that +has ever been possible to him. + +Thus it is. Love, to be really love, and not merely a transitory +desire, never clings to the perishable, but is awakened and kindled +by, and based upon, the eternal only. Man is not even able to love +himself unless he consider himself as eternal; moreover, he cannot +even esteem and approve himself. Still less can he love anything +outside himself, except, that is, that he receive it within the +eternity of his belief and of his soul, and connect it with this +eternity. He who does not, first of all, regard himself as eternal, +has no love whatever, nor can he, moreover, love a fatherland, since +nothing of the sort exists for him. It is true that he who, perchance, +regards his invisible life as eternal, but who does not, therefore, +esteem his visible life as eternal in the same sense, may perhaps +have a heaven, and in this his fatherland, but here on earth he has no +fatherland; for this also is seen only under the metaphor of eternity +and, indeed, of visible eternity, rendered perceptible to the senses; +moreover, he cannot, therefore, love his fatherland. If such a man has +none, he is to be pitied; but he to whom one has been given, and +in whose soul heaven and earth, the invisible and the visible, +interpenetrate, and thus for the first time create a true and worthy +heaven, fights to the last drop of his blood again to transmit the +precious possession undiminished to posterity. + +Thus has it been from time immemorial, though it has not been +expressed from time immemorial with this generality and with this +clearness. What inspired the noble spirits among the Romans, whose +sentiments and mode of thought still live and breathe among us in +their monuments, to struggle and to sacrifice, to endure and be +patient, for their fatherland? They themselves state it frequently and +clearly. It was their firm belief in the eternal continuance of their +Rome, and their confident expectation of themselves continuing to live +in this eternity. In so far as this conviction had foundation, and +in so far as they themselves would have grasped it if they had been +perfectly clear within themselves, it never deceived them. + +Unto this day what was really eternal in their eternal Rome lives on +and they with it in our midst, and it will continue to live, in its +results, until the end of time. + +In this sense--as the vehicle and the pledge of earthly eternity, +and the interpretation of the eternal here--nation and fatherland +far transcend the State in the ordinary sense of the term social +organization, as this is conceived in its simple, clear connotation, +and as it is founded and maintained in accordance with this +conception--a conception which demands sure justice and internal +peace, and requires that every one through his efforts obtain his +support and the prolongation of his sentient existence so long as God +will grant it to him. All this is only a means, a condition, and a +scaffolding of what patriotism really means--the development of the +eternal and the divine in the world, which is ever to become purer, +more perfect in infinite progression. For that very reason this +patriotism must, first of all, rule the State itself as absolutely the +highest, ultimate, and independent authority, by limiting it in the +choice of means for its immediate purpose--inner peace. To reach this +goal, the natural freedom of the individual must be limited in many +ways, it is true; and if this were absolutely the only consideration +and intention regarding them, it would be well to restrict this +liberty as closely as possible, in order to bring all their movements +under one uniform rule, and to keep them under constant supervision. +Granted that such severity be necessary, it could at least do no harm +for this single end; only the higher concept of the human race and of +the nations widens this limited view. Even in the manifestations +of external life freedom is the soil in which the higher culture +germinates; a legislation which keeps this later aim in view will give +the broadest possible scope to freedom, even at the risk that a less +degree of uniform quiet and calm may result, and that government may +become a little more difficult and laborious. + +To elucidate this by an example--it has been known to happen that +nations have been told to their faces that they did not require as +much freedom as many other nations do. This statement might, indeed, +be dictated by forbearance and a desire to palliate, the true meaning +being that they were utterly unable to endure so great freedom and +that only a high degree of rigidity could prevent them from destroying +one another. If, however, the words are taken as they are spoken, +they are true under the presupposition that such a nation is entirely +incapable of the natural life and of the impulse toward it. Such a +nation--in case such a one, in which some few of the nobler sort did +not make an exception to the general rule, were possible--would indeed +require no freedom whatever, since this is only for the higher ends +which transcend the State; it requires simply taming and training in +order that the individuals may live peaceably side by side, and that +the whole may be made an efficient means for arbitrary ends which +lie outside its proper sphere. We need not decide whether this may +truthfully be said of any nation whatever; but this much is clear, +that a primitive nation requires freedom, that this freedom is the +pledge of its persistence as a primitive people, and that, as it +continues, it bears, without any danger, an ever ascending degree of +freedom. And this is the first example of the necessity of patriotism +governing the state itself. + +It must, then, be patriotism which governs the state in that it sets +for it itself a higher end than the ordinary one of the maintenance of +the internal peace, of the property, of the personal freedom, of the +life, and of the well-being of all. Solely for this higher end, and +with no other intention, the state assembles an armed force. When the +problem of the application of this armed force arises, when it is +a question of hazarding all the aims of the state in the +abstract-property, personal freedom, life, welfare, and the +continuance of the state itself--when, answerable to God alone, they +are called upon to decide without a clear and rational conception of +the sure attainment of the end in view, which in matters of this sort +it is never possible to gain--then only the true primitive life holds +the rudder of the state, and here for the first time enters the true +sovereign right of the government, like God, to imperil the lower +life for the sake of the higher. In the maintenance of the traditional +organization, of the laws, and of civic welfare, there is absolutely +no genuine life and no primitive decision. Circumstances and +situations, legislators who have perhaps long been dead, have created +those things; succeeding ages go trustingly forward in the road they +have entered, and thus, as a matter of fact, they do not live a public +life of their own, but merely repeat a former. In such periods there +is no need of a real government. If, however, this uniform progress +is imperiled, and the problem arises of deciding with reference to +new cases, then a life is required which has its roots in itself. What +spirit is it, now, which in such cases may take its place at the helm, +which is able to decide with individual certainty and without uneasy +wavering, and which has an indubitable right authoritatively to lay +demands upon every one who may be concerned, whether he will or not, +and to compel the recalcitrant to imperil everything, even to his +life? Not the spirit of calm civilian love for the constitution and +the laws, but the burning flame of the higher patriotism which regards +the nation as the veil of the eternal, for which the noble joyfully +sacrifices himself, and for which the ignoble, who exists only for +the sake of the noble, should also sacrifice himself! It is not that +civilian love for the constitution, for this is absolutely incapable +of such action if it is founded on reason only. + +Whatever may be the outcome, since governance is not unrewarded, some +one will always be found to take charge of it. Let the new ruler even +favor slavery (and in what does slavery consist except in contempt +and suppression of the individuality of a primitive people?), since +advantage may be derived from the life of slaves, from their number, +and even from their welfare, then slavery will be endurable under him +provided he is a calculator to any extent. They will at least always +find life and support. Why, then, should they thus struggle? According +to both of them, it is peace which transcends everything in their +opinion, but this is disturbed only by the continuance of the +struggle. The slave, therefore, puts forth every effort to end it +quickly; he will yield and submit--and why should he not? He never had +a higher purpose, and he has never expected anything more from life +than the continuance of his existence under endurable conditions. The +promise of a life lasting, even here, beyond the duration of earthly +life--this alone is what can inspire him to death for the fatherland. + +Thus it has always been. Wheresoever real government has existed, +where serious struggles have been fought out, where victory has been +won against mighty resistance, it has been the promise of eternal +life that governed and fought and conquered. The German Protestants, +formerly mentioned in these addresses, fought with faith in this +promise. Did they not perhaps know that nations might also be governed +with the old faith and be held in legal order, and that a good +livelihood might be found under this faith also? Why, then, did +their princes thus determine upon armed resistance, and why did their +peoples lend themselves to it with enthusiasm? It was heaven and +eternal happiness for which they gladly shed their blood. Yet what +earthly power could then have penetrated into the inmost sanctuary of +their souls and have been able to eradicate the faith which had now +once sprung up within them, and on which alone they based their hope +of salvation? It was not, therefore, their own happiness for which +they struggled--of that they were already assured; it was the +happiness of their children, of their grandchildren still unborn, +and of all posterity. These, too, should be brought up in the same +doctrine which alone seemed to them to bring salvation; they, too, +should share in the salvation which had dawned for them. It was this +hope alone that was threatened by the foe; for that hope, for an order +of things which should bloom above their graves long after they were +dead, they shed their blood thus joyfully. If we grant that they were +not entirely clear to themselves, that in their designation of the +noblest they verbally mistook what was within them, and with their +mouths did injustice to their souls; if we willingly acknowledge that +their confession of faith was not the sole and exclusive means of +attaining heaven beyond the grave--yet, this, at least, is eternally +true that more heaven on this side of the grave, a more courageous and +more joyous lifting of the gaze above the earth, and a freer impulse +of spirit have come through their sacrifice into all the life of +succeeding ages; and the descendants of their opponents, as well as +we ourselves, their own descendants, enjoy the fruits of their labors +unto this day. + +In this belief our oldest common ancestors, the parent nation of +civilization, the Teutons whom the Romans called Germans, boldly +opposed the advancing world-dominion of the Romans. Did they not then +see before their eyes the higher bloom of the Roman provinces near +them, the more refined enjoyments in them, and, in addition, laws, +judgment-seats, rods, and axes in superabundance? Were not the Romans +willing enough to allow them to share in all these blessings? Did they +not experience, in the case of several of their own princes who had +allowed themselves to be persuaded that war against such benefactors +of humanity was rebellion, proofs of the lauded Roman clemency, +since Rome adorned these submissive lords with kingly titles, with +generalships in their armies, and with Roman fillets, and gave +them, if, perchance, they had been driven out by their compatriots, +maintenance and a place of refuge in their colonies? Had they no +feeling for the advantages of Roman culture, as, for example, for the +better organization of their armies, in which even an Arminius did +not disdain to learn the trade of war? None of all these ignorances +or negligences is to be charged against them. Their descendents even +adopted the culture of the Romans as soon as they could do it without +loss of their freedom and in so far as it was possible without +impairment of their individuality. Why did they, then, thus struggle +for several generations in sanguinary war, ever renewed with the same +virulence? A Roman author makes their leaders ask "whether anything +was then left for them except either to assert their freedom or to die +before they became slaves?" Freedom meant to them that they remained +Germans, that they continued to decide their affairs independently, +in conformity with their national genius, and, likewise in conformity +with this spirit, that they continued to go forward in their +development and transmitted this independence to their posterity; +slavery meant to them all the blessings which the Romans offered them, +because in that case they must be something else than Germans--they +might be half Romans. It is self-evident, they presuppose, that every +one would rather die than become thus, and that a true German can wish +to live only that he may be and remain forever a German and may train +all that belong to him to be Germans also. + +They have not all died; they have not seen slavery; they have +bequeathed liberty to their children. All the modern world owes it to +their stubborn resistance that it exists as it does. If the Romans had +succeeded in subjugating them also and, as the Roman everywhere did, +in eradicating them as a nation, then the entire future development of +mankind would have taken a direction that we cannot imagine would +have been more pleasant. We, the immediate heirs of their land, their +language, and their thought, owe it to them that we be still Germans, +that the stream of primitive and independent life still bear us on; +to them we owe everything that we have since become as a nation; and, +unless we have now perhaps come to an end, and unless the last drop +of blood inherited from them is dried up in our veins, we shall owe +to them all that we shall be in the future. Even the other Teutonic +races, among whom are our brethren, and who have now become foreigners +to us, owe to them their existence; when they conquered eternal Rome, +no one of all these nations yet existed; at that time the possibility +of their future origin was simultaneously won in the struggle. + +These, and all others in universal history who have been of their type +of thought, have conquered because the eternal inspired them, and thus +this inspiration ever and of necessity prevails over him who is not +inspired. It is not the might of arms nor the fitness of weapons +that wins victories, but the power of the soul. He who sets himself +a limited goal for his sacrifices, and who can dare no further than a +certain point, surrenders resistance as soon as the danger reaches a +crisis where he cannot yield or dodge. He who has set himself no limit +whatsoever, but who hazards everything, even life--the highest +boon that can be lost on earth--never ceases to resist, and, if his +opponent has a more limited goal, he indubitably conquers. A people +that is capable, though it be only in its highest representatives and +leaders, of keeping firmly before its vision independence, the face +from the spirit world, and of being inspired with love for it, as +were our remotest forefathers, surely conquers a people that, like the +Roman armies, is used merely as a tool for foreign dominion and for +the subjugation of independent nations; for the former have everything +to lose, the latter have merely something to gain. But even a whim can +prevail over the mental attitude which regards war as a game of hazard +for temporal gain or loss, and which, even before the game starts, has +fixed the limit of the stake. Think, for example, of a Mohammed--not +the real Mohammed of history, concerning whom I confess that I have +no judgment, but the Mohammed of a distinguished French poet--who +had once become firmly convinced that he was one of the extraordinary +natures who are called to guide the obscure and common folk of earth, +and to whom, in consequence of this first presupposition, all his +whims, however meagre and limited they may really be, must necessarily +appear to be great, exalted and inspiring ideas because they are his +own, while everything that opposes them must seem obscure, common +folk, enemies of their own weal, evil-minded, and hateful. Such a man, +in order to justify this self-conceit to himself as a divine vocation, +and entirely absorbed in this thought, must stake everything upon it, +nor can he rest until he has trampled under foot all that will not +think as highly of him as he does himself, or until his own belief in +his divine mission is reflected from the whole contemporary world. I +shall not say what would be his fortunes in case a spiritual vision +that is true and clear within itself should actually come against +him on the field of battle, but he certainly wins from those limited +gamblers, for he hazards everything against those who do not so +hazard; no spirit inspires them, but he is altogether inspired by a +fanatical spirit--that of his mighty and powerful self-conceit. + +It follows from all this that the state, as mere governance of human +life proceeding in its normal peaceable course, is not a primal thing +and one existing for itself, but that it is simply the means to the +higher end of the eternally uniform development of the purely human in +this nation; that it is only the vision and the love of this eternal +development which is continually to guide the higher outlook upon the +administration of the state, even in periods of calm, and which alone +can save the independence of the nation when this is endangered. In +the case of the Germans, among whom, as being a primitive people, this +love of country was possible and, as we firmly believe, has actually +existed hitherto, such patriotism could, up to our own time, count +with a high degree of certainty upon the safety of its most important +interests. As was the case only among the Greeks in antiquity, among +the Germans the State and the nation were actually severed from +each other, and each was represented separately; the former in the +individual German kingdoms and principalities; the latter visibly in +the Federation of the Empire, and invisibly--valid not in consequence +of written law but as a sequence of a law living in the hearts of all, +and in its results striking the eyes at every turn--in a multitude +of customs and institutions. As far as the German language extended, +every one who saw the light within its domain could regard himself +as a citizen in a two-fold sense, partly of his natal city, to whose +immediate protection he was recommended; and partly of the entire +common fatherland of the German nation. Throughout the whole extent of +this fatherland each man might seek for himself that culture which was +most akin to his spirit, or he might search for the sphere of activity +most suited for it; and talent did not grow into its place, like a +tree, but he was permitted to search for that place. He who became +estranged from his immediate surroundings through the direction taken +by his culture, easily found welcome reception elsewhere; he found new +friends instead of those whom he had lost; he found time and quiet in +which to explain himself more accurately and perhaps to win over and +to reconcile the wrathful themselves, and thus to unite the whole. No +German-born prince could ever bring himself to mark off the fatherland +of his subjects within the mountains or rivers where he ruled, and to +regard them as bound to the soil. A truth which could not be uttered +in one place might be proclaimed in another, where, perhaps, on the +contrary, those truths were forbidden which were allowable in the +former district; and thus, despite many instances of partiality and +narrow-mindedness in the individual states, in Germany, taken as +a whole, was found the utmost freedom of investigation and of +communication that ever a nation possessed. Higher culture was, and +remained on every hand, the result of the reciprocity of the citizens +of all German states, and this higher culture then gradually descended +in this form to the greater masses, who, consequently, have always, +on the whole, continued to educate themselves. As has been said, no +German with a German heart, placed at the head of a government, has +ever diminished this essential pledge of the continuance of a German +nation; and even though, in view of other primitive decisions, what +the higher German patriotism must desire was not invariably to +be effected, yet at least there was no direct opposition to its +interests; no effort was made to undermine that love, to eradicate it, +and to replace it by an antagonistic love. + +But if, now, the original guidance both of that higher culture and +of the national power--which should be used only in behalf of that +culture and to further its continuance--the employment of German +wealth and German blood is to pass from the supremacy of the German +spirit to that of another, what would then necessarily result? + +Here is the place where there is special need of applying the policy +which we outlined in our first address, namely, to be unwilling to +be deceived in regard to our own interest, and to have the courage +willingly to see the truth and acknowledge it. Moreover, it is still +permissible, so far as I know, to talk with one another in German +about our fatherland, or at least to sigh in German, and, I +believe, we should not do well if we ourselves precipitated such an +interdiction and wished to lay the fetters of individual timidity on +the courage which, no doubt, will already have considered the risk of +the venture. + +Well then, picture to yourself the presupposed new régime to be as +kind and as benevolent as you will; make it good as God; will you also +be able to invest it with divine understanding? Even though it may, in +all earnestness, desire the highest happiness and welfare of all, +will the best welfare that it can comprehend also be the welfare of +Germany? I accordingly hope that I shall be perfectly understood in +reference to the main point that I have presented to you today; I hope +that in the course of my remarks many have thought and felt that I +merely express clearly in words what has always lain within their +hearts; I hope the same will be the case with the other Germans +who will some day read this address. Several Germans have said +approximately the same things before me, and that sentiment has +lain obscurely at the basis of the opposition continually manifested +against a merely mechanical establishment and estimate of the State. +And now I challenge all who are acquainted with modern foreign +literature to prove to me what later sage, poet, or lawgiver among +them has ever given birth to a prophetic thought similar to this, +which regarded the human race as being in continual progress, and +which correlated all its temporal activity only with this progress; +whether any one of them, even in the period when they soared most +boldly to political creation, demanded from the state more than +equality, internal peace, external national fame, and, when their +demands reached the extreme limit, domestic happiness? If this is +their highest conception, as must be deduced from all that has been +said, they can attribute to us likewise no higher needs and no +higher demands upon life, and--always presupposing those beneficent +sentiments toward us and an absence of all selfishness and of all +desire to be more than we--they believe that they have made admirable +provision for us when they give us all that they alone recognize as +desirable. On the other hand, that for which alone the nobler soul +among us can live is then eradicated from public life, and the people, +who have always shown themselves receptive toward the impulses of +higher things, and the majority of whom, it might be hoped, could even +be raised to that nobility, are--in so far as it is treated as they +wish it to be treated--abased beneath its rank, dishonored, and +blotted out, since it coalesces with the populace of the baser sort. + +If, now, those higher claims upon life, together with the sense of +their divine right, still remain living and potent in any one, he, +with deep indignation, feels himself crushed back into those first +ages of Christianity in which it was said: "Resist not evil: but +whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other +also. And if any man will take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak +also." And rightly so, for as long as he still sees a cloak upon thee, +he seeks an opportunity to quarrel with thee in order to take this +also from thee; not until thou art utterly naked dost thou escape his +attention and art unmolested by him. Even his higher feelings, which +do him honor, make earth a hell and an abomination to him; he wishes +that he had not been born; he wishes that his eyes may close to the +light of day, the sooner the better; unceasing sorrow lays hold upon +his days until the grave claims him; he can wish for those dear to him +no better gift than a quiet and contented spirit, that with less pain +they may live on in expectation of an eternal life beyond the grave. + +These addresses lay upon you the task of preventing, by the sole means +which still remains after the others have been tried in vain, the +destruction of every nobler impulse that may in the future possibly +arise among us and this debasement of our entire nation. They present +to you a true and omnipotent patriotism, which, in the conception +of our nation as of one that is eternal, and as citizens of our own +eternity, is to be deeply and ineradicably founded in the minds of +all, by means of education. What this education may be, and in what +way it may be achieved, we shall see in the following addresses. + +[Illustration: VOLUNTEERS OF 1813 BEFORE KING FRIEDRICH WILHELM III IN +BRESLAU _From the Painting by F.W. Scholtz_] + + * * * * * + + + + +ADDRESS FOURTEEN + +Conclusion of the Whole + + +The addresses which I here conclude have, indeed, been directed +primarily to you,[4] but they had in view the entire German nation; +and, in intention, they have gathered about them, in the space wherein +you visibly breathe, all that would be capable of understanding +them as far as the German tongue extends. Should I have succeeded in +casting into any bosom throbbing before my eyes some sparks which may +glimmer on and take life, it is not in my thought that they remain +solitary and alone, but, traversing the whole ground in common, I +would gather about them similar sentiments and purposes and weld them +so unitedly that a continuous and coherent flame of patriotic thought +might spread and be enkindled from this centre over the soil of the +fatherland and to its furthest bounds. My addresses have not been +directed to this generation for the pastime of idle ears and eyes, but +I desire at last to know--even as every one who is like-minded should +know--whether there is anything outside us that is akin to our type +of thought. Every German who still believes that he is a member of a +nation, who thinks of it in grand and noble fashion, who hopes in it, +and who dares, suffers, and endures for it, should at last be torn +from the uncertainty of his belief; he should clearly discern whether +he is right or whether he is only a fool and a fanatic; henceforth he +should either continue his path with sure and joyous consciousness, +or, with healthy resolution, should renounce a fatherland here below +and comfort himself solely with that which is in heaven. To you, +therefore, not as such-and-such persons in our daily and circumscribed +life, but as representatives of the nation, and, through your ears, to +the nation as a whole, these addresses appeal. + +Centuries have passed since you have been convened as you are +today--in such numbers, in so great, so insistent, so mutual an +interest, so absolutely as a nation and as Germans. Never again will +you be so bidden. If you do not listen now and examine yourselves, if +you again let these addresses pass you by as an empty tickling of the +ears or as a strange prodigy, no human being will longer take account +of you. Hear at last for once; for once at last reflect! Only do not +go this time from the spot without having made a firm resolve; let +every one who hears this voice make this resolution within himself +and for himself, even as though he were alone and must do everything +alone. If very many individuals think thus, there will soon be a great +whole uniting into a single, close-knit power. If, on the contrary, +each one, excluding himself, relies on the rest and relinquishes the +affair to others, then there are no others at all, for, even though +combined, all remain just as they were before. Make it on the +spot--this resolution! Do not say, "Yet a little more sleep, a +little more slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep," until, +perchance, improvement shall come of itself. It will never come of +itself. He who has once missed the opportunity of yesterday, when +clear perception would have been easier, will not be able to make +up his mind today, and will certainly be even less able to do so +tomorrow. Every delay only makes us still more inert and but lulls us +more and more into gentle acquiescence to our wretched plight. Neither +could the external stimulations to reflection ever be stronger and +more insistent, for surely he whom these present conditions do not +arouse has lost all feeling. You have been called together to make +a last, determined resolution and decision--not by any means to give +commands and mandates to others, or to depute others to do the work +for you. No, my purpose is to urge you to do the work yourself. In +this connection that idle passing of resolutions, the will to will, +some time or other, are not sufficient, nor is it enough to remain +sluggishly satisfied until self-improvement sets in of its own +accord. On the contrary, from you is demanded a determination which +is identical with action and with life itself, and which will continue +and control, unwavering and unchilled, until it gains its goal. + +Or is perchance the root, from which alone can grow a tenacity of +purpose which takes hold upon life, utterly eradicated and vanished +within you? Or is your whole being actually rarefied into a hollow +shade, devoid of sap and blood and of individual power of movement, or +dissolved to a dream in which, indeed, a motley array of faces arise +and busily cross one another, but the body lies stiff and dead? Long +since it has been openly proclaimed to our generation and repeated +under every guise, that this is very nearly its condition. Its +spokesmen have believed that this was declared merely in insult, and +have regarded themselves as challenged to return the insults, thinking +that thus the affair would resume its natural course. As for the rest, +there was not the slightest trace of change or of improvement. If +you have heard this, and if it was capable of rousing your +indignation--well then, through your very actions, give the lie to +those who thus think and speak of you. Once show yourselves to be +different before the eyes of all the world, and before the eyes of all +the world they will be convicted of their falsehood. It may be that +they have spoken thus harshly of you with the precise intention of +forcing this refutation from you, and because they despaired of any +other means of arousing you. How much better, then, would have been +their intentions toward you than were the purposes of those who +flattered you that you might be kept in sluggish calm and in careless +thoughtlessness! + +However weak and powerless you may be, during this period clear and +calm reflection has been vouchsafed you as never before. What +really plunged us into confusion regarding our position, into +thoughtlessness, into a blind way of letting things go, was our sweet +complacency with ourselves and our mode of existence. Things had thus +gone on hitherto, and so they continued and would continue to go. If +any one challenged us to reflect, we triumphantly showed him, instead +of any other refutation, our continued existence which went on without +any thought or effort on our part; yet things flowed along simply +because we were not put to the test. Since that time we have passed +through the ordeal and it might be supposed that the deceptions, the +delusions, and the false consolations with which we all misguided one +another would have collapsed! The innate prejudices which, without +proceeding from this point or from that, spread over all like a +natural cloud and wrapped all in the same mist, ought surely, by this +time, to have utterly vanished! That twilight no longer obscures our +eyes, and can therefore no longer serve for an excuse. Now we stand, +naked and bare, stripped of all alien coverings and draperies, simply +as ourselves. Now it must appear what each self is, or is not. + +Some one among you might come forward and ask me "What gives you in +particular, the only one among all German men and authors, the special +task, vocation, and prerogative of convening us and inveighing against +us? Would not any one among the thousands of the writers of Germany +have exactly the same right to do this as you have? None of them does +it; you alone push yourself forward." I answer that each one would, +indeed, have had the same right as I, and that I do it for the very +reason that no one among them has done it before me; that I would be +silent if any one else had spoken previous to me. This was the first +step toward the goal of a radical amelioration, and some one must take +it. I seemed to be the first vividly to perceive this--accordingly, it +was I who first took it. After this, a second step will be taken, and +thereto every one has now the same right; but, as a matter of fact, +it, in its turn, will be taken by but one individual. One man must +always be the first, and let him be he who can! + +Without anxiety regarding this circumstance, let your attention rest +for an instant on the consideration to which we have previously led +you--in how enviable a position Germany and the world would be if the +former had known how to utilize the good fortune of her position and +to recognize her advantage. Let your eyes rest upon what they both +are now, and let your minds be penetrated by the pain and indignation +which, in this reflection, must lay hold upon every noble soul. Then +examine yourselves and see that it is you who can release the age from +the errors of ancient times, and that, if only you will permit it, +your own eyes can be cleared of the mist that covers them; learn, too, +that it has been vouchsafed to you, as to no generation before you, to +undo what has been done and to efface the dishonorable interval from +the annals of the German nation. + +Let the various conditions among which you must choose pass before +you. If you drift along in your torpor and your heedlessness, all the +evils of slavery await you--deprivations, humiliations, the scorn and +arrogance of the conqueror; you will be pushed about from pillar to +post, because you have never found your proper niche, until, through +the sacrifice of your nationality and of your language, you slip into +some subordinate place where your nation shall sink its identity. If, +on the other hand, you rouse yourselves, you will find, first of all, +an enduring and honorable existence, and will behold a flourishing +generation which promises to you and to the Germans the most glorious +and lasting memory. Through the instrumentality of this new generation +you will see in spirit the German name exalted to the most glorious +among all nations; you will discern in this nation the regenerator and +restorer of the world. + +It depends upon you whether you will be the last of a dishonorable +race, even more surely despised by posterity than it deserves, and in +whose history--if there can be any history in the barbarism which will +then begin--succeeding generations will rejoice when it perishes and +will praise fate that it is just; or whether you will be the beginning +and the point of development of a new age which will be glorious +beyond all your expectations, and become those from whom posterity +will date the year of their salvation. Bethink yourselves that you +are the last in whose power this great change lies. You have heard +the Germans called a unit; you have still a visible sign of their +unity--an Empire and an Imperial League--or you have heard of it; +among you even yet, from time to time, voices have been audible which +were inspired by this higher patriotism. After you become accustomed +to other concepts and will accept alien forms and a different course +of occupation and of life--how long will it then be before no one +longer lives who has seen Germans or who has heard of them? + +What is demanded of you is not much. You should only keep before you +the necessity of pulling yourselves together for a little time and of +reflecting upon what lies immediately and obviously before your eyes. +You should merely form for yourselves a fixed opinion regarding +this situation, remain true to it, and utter and express it in your +immediate surroundings. It is the presupposition, yea, it is our firm +conviction, that this reflection will lead to the same result in all +of you; that, if you only seriously consider, and do not continue in +your previous heedlessness, you will think in harmony; and that, +if you can bring your intelligence to bear, and if only you do not +continue to vegetate, unanimity and unity of spirit will come of +themselves. If, however, matters once reach this point, all else that +we need will result automatically. + +This reflection is, moreover, demanded from each one of you who can +still consider for himself something lying obviously before his eyes. +You have time for this; events will not take you unawares; the records +of the negotiations conducted with you will remain before your eyes. +Lay them not from your hands until you are in unity with your selves. +Neither let, oh, let not yourselves be made supine by reliance upon +others or upon anything whatsoever that lies outside yourselves, nor +yet through the unintelligent belief of our time that the epochs of +history are made by the agency of some unknown power without any aid +from man. These addresses have never wearied in impressing upon you +that absolutely nothing can help you but yourselves, and they find it +necessary to repeat this to the last moment. Rain and dew, fruitful or +unfruitful years, may indeed be made by a power which is unknown to us +and is not under our control; but only men themselves--and absolutely +no power outside them--give to each epoch its particular stamp. Only +when they are all equally blind and ignorant do they fall the victims +of this hidden power, though it is within their own control not to +be blind and ignorant. It is true that to whatever degree, greater +or less, things may go ill with us, in part depends upon that unknown +power; but far more is it dependent upon the intelligence and the good +will of those to whom we are subjected. Whether, on the other hand, +it will ever again be well with us depends wholly upon ourselves; +and surely nevermore will any welfare whatsoever come to us unless we +ourselves acquire it for ourselves--especially unless each individual +among us toils and labors in his own way as though he were alone and +as though the salvation of future generations depended solely upon +him. + +This is what you have to do; and these addresses adjure you to do this +without delay. + +They adjure you, young men! I, who have long since ceased to belong +to you, maintain--and I have also expressed my conviction in these +addresses--that you are yet more capable of every thought transcending +the commonplace, and are more easily aroused to all that is good and +great, because your time of life still lies closer to the years of +childish innocence and of nature. Very differently does the majority +of the older generation regard this fundamental trait in you. It +accuses you of arrogance, of a rash, presumptuous judgment which soars +beyond your strength, of obstinacy, and of desire of innovation; yet +it merely smiles good-naturedly at these, your errors. All this, it +thinks, is based simply on your lack of knowledge of the world, that +is, of universal human corruption, since it has eyes for nothing else +on earth. You are now supposed to have courage only because you hope +to find help-mates like-minded with yourselves and because you do not +know the grim and stubborn resistance which will be opposed to your +projects of improvement. When the youthful fire of your imagination +shall once have vanished, when you shall have perceived the universal +selfishness, idleness, and horror of work, when you yourselves shall +once rightly have tasted the sweetness of plodding on in the customary +rut--then the desire to be better and wiser than all others will soon +fade away. They do not by any chance entertain these good expectations +of you in imagination alone; they have found them confirmed in their +own persons. They must confess that in the days of their foolish youth +they dreamed of improving the world, exactly as you dream today; yet +with increasing maturity they have become tame and quiet as you see +them now. I believe them; in my own experience, which has not been +very protracted, I have seen that young men who at first roused +different hopes nevertheless, later, exactly fulfilled the kind +expectations of mature age. Do this no longer, young men, for how else +could a better generation ever begin? The bloom of youth will indeed +fall from you, and the flame of imagination will cease to be nourished +from itself; but feed this flame and brighten it through clear +thought, make this way of thinking your own, and as an additional gift +you will gain character, the fairest adornment of man. Through this +clear thinking you will preserve the fountain of eternal youth; +however your bodies grow old or your knees become feeble, your spirit +will be reborn in freshness ever renewed, and your character will +stand firm and unchangeable. Seize at once the opportunity here +offered you; reflect clearly upon the theme presented for your +deliberation; and the clarity which has dawned for you in one point +will gradually spread over all others as well. + +These addresses adjure you, old men! You are regarded as you have just +heard, and you are told so to your faces; and for his own past the +speaker frankly adds that--excluding the exceptions which, it must +be admitted, not infrequently occur, and which are all the more +admirable--the world is perfectly right with regard to the great +majority among you. Go through the history of the last two or three +decades; everything except yourselves agrees--and even you yourselves +agree, each one in the specialty that does not immediately concern +him--that (always excluding the exceptions, and regarding only the +majority) the greatest uselessness and selfishness are found in +advanced years in all branches, in science as well as in practical +occupations. The whole world has witnessed that every one who desired +the better and the more perfect still had to wage the bitterest battle +with you in addition to the battle with his own uncertainty and with +his other surroundings; that you were firmly resolved that nothing +must thrive which you had not done and known in the same way; that you +regarded every impulse of thought as an insult to your intelligence; +and that you left no power unutilized to conquer in this battle +against improvement--and in fact you generally did prevail. Thus you +were the impeding power against all the improvements which kindly +nature offered us from her ever--youthful womb until you were +gathered to the dust which you were before, and until the succeeding +generations, which were at war with you, had become like unto you and +had adopted your attitude. Now, also, you need only conduct yourselves +as you have previously acted in case of all propositions for +amelioration; you need only again prefer to the general weal your +empty honor in order that there may be nothing between heaven and +earth that you have not already fathomed; then, through this last +battle, you are relieved from all further battle; no improvement +will accrue, but deterioration will follow in the footsteps of +deterioration, and thus there will be much satisfaction in reserve for +you. + +No one will suppose that I despise and depreciate old age as old +age. If only the source of primitive life and of its continuance is +absorbed into life through freedom, then clarity--and strength with +it--increases so long as life endures. Such a life is easier to live; +the dross of earthly origin falls away more and ever more; it is +ennobled to the life eternal and strives toward it. The experience +of such an old age is irreconcilable with evil, and it only makes the +means clearer and the skill more adroit victoriously to battle against +wickedness. Deterioration through increasing age is simply the fault +of our time, and it necessarily results in every place where society +is much corrupted. It is not nature which corrupts us--she produces +us in innocence; it is society. He who has once surrendered to the +influence of society must naturally become ever worse and worse the +longer he is exposed to this influence. It would be worth the trouble +to investigate the history of other extremely corrupt generations in +this regard, and to see whether--for example, under the rule of the +Roman emperors--what was once bad did not continually become worse +with increasing age. + +First of all, therefore, these addresses adjure you, old men and +experienced--you who form the exception! Confirm, strengthen, counsel +in this matter the younger generation, which reverently looks up to +you. And the rest of you also, who are average souls, they adjure! +If you are not to help, at least do not interfere, this time; do not +again--as always hitherto--put yourselves in the way with your wisdom +and with your thousand hesitations. This thing, like every rational +thing in the world, is not complicated, but simple; and it also +belongs among the thousand matters which you know not. If your wisdom +could save, it would surely have saved us before; for it is you who +have counseled us thus far. Now, like everything else, all this is +forgiven you, and you should no longer be reproached with it. Only +learn at last once to know yourselves, and be silent. + +These addresses adjure you men of affairs! With few exceptions you +have thus far been cordially hostile to abstract thought and to all +learning which desired to be something for itself, even though you +demeaned yourselves as if you merely haughtily despised all this. +As far as you possibly could, you held from you the men who did such +things as well as their propositions; the reproach of lunacy, or the +advice that they be sent to the mad-house, was the thanks from you on +which they might usually count. They, in their turn, did not venture +to express themselves regarding you with the same frankness, since +they were dependent upon you; but their innermost thought was this, +that, with a few exceptions, you were shallow babblers and inflated +braggarts, dilettante who have only passed through school, blind +gropers and creepers in the old rut who had neither wish nor ability +for aught else. Give them the lie through your deeds, and to this end +grasp the opportunity now offered you; lay aside that contempt for +profound thought and learning; let yourselves be advised and hear and +learn what you do not know, or else your accusers win their case. + +These addresses adjure you, thinkers, scholars, and authors who are +still worthy of this name! In a certain sense that reproach of the men +of affairs was not unjust. You often proceeded too unconcerned in +the realm of abstract thought, without troubling yourselves about the +actual world and without considering how the one might be connected +with the other; you circumscribed your own world for yourselves, and +let the real world lie to one side, disdained and despised. Every +regulation and every formation of actual life must, it is true, +proceed from the higher regulating concept, and progress in the +customary rut is insufficient for it; this is an eternal truth, and, +in God's name, it crushes with undisguised contempt every one who +is so bold as to busy himself with affairs without knowing this. Yet +between the concept and the introduction of it into any individual +life there is a great gulf fixed. The filling of this gulf is the +task both of the men of affairs--who, however, must already first have +learned enough to understand you--and also of yourselves, who should +not forget life on account of the world of thought. Here you both +meet. Instead of regarding each other askance and depreciating each +other across the gulf, endeavor rather to fill it, each on his own +side, and thus seek to construct the road to union. At last, I beg +you, realize that you both are as mutually necessary to each other as +head and arm are indispensable the one to the other. + +In other respects as well, these addresses adjure you, thinkers, +scholars, and authors who are still worthy of this name! Your laments +over the general shallowness, thoughtlessness, and superficiality, +over self-conceit and inexhaustible babble, over the contempt for +seriousness and profundity in all classes, may be true, even as they +actually are. Yet what class is it, pray, that has educated all these +classes, that has transformed everything pertaining to science into a +jest for them, and that has trained them from their earliest youth +in that self-conceit and that babble? Who is it, pray, who still +continues to educate the generations that have outgrown the schools? +The most obvious source of the torpor of the age is that it has read +itself torpid in the writings which you have written. Why are you, +nevertheless, so continually solicitous to amuse this idle people, +despite the fact that you know that they have learned nothing and wish +to learn nothing? Why do you call them "the Public," flatter them as +your judge, stir them up against your rivals, and seek by every means +to win this blind and confused mob over to your side? Finally, in your +literary reviews and in your magazines, why do you yourselves furnish +them with material and example for rash judgments by yourselves +judging as unconnectedly, as carelessly, as recklessly, and, for the +most part, as tastelessly as even the least of your readers could? +If you do not all think thus, and if among you there are still some +animated by better sentiments, why, then, do not these latter unite to +put an end to the evil? As to those men of affairs, in particular they +have passed through your schools--you say so yourselves. Why, then, +did you not at least make use of this transit of theirs to inspire in +them some silent respect for learning, and especially to break betimes +the self-conceit of the young aristocrat and to show him that +birth and station are of no assistance in the realm of thought? If, +perchance, even at that time you flattered him and exalted him unduly, +now endure that for which you yourselves are responsible. + +These addresses desire to excuse you on the supposition that you had +not grasped the importance of your occupation; they adjure you that, +from this hour, you make yourselves acquainted with this importance, +and that you no longer ply your occupation as a mere trade. Learn to +respect yourselves, and by your actions show that you do so, and the +world will respect you. You will give the first proof of this through +the amount of influence which you assume in regard to the resolution +that is proposed, and through the manner in which you conduct +yourselves regarding it. + +These addresses adjure you, princes of Germany! Those who act toward +you as though no man dared say aught to you, or had aught to say, are +despicable flatterers, are base slanderers of you yourselves. Drive +them far from you! The truth is that you were born exactly as ignorant +as all the rest of us, and that, exactly like ourselves, you must hear +and learn if you are to escape from this natural ignorance. Your share +in bringing about the fate which has befallen you simultaneously with +your peoples is here set forth in the mildest way and, as we believe, +in the way which is alone right and just; and in case you wish to +hear only flattery, and never the truth, you cannot complain regarding +these addresses. Let all this be forgotten, even as all the rest of us +also desire that our share in the guilt may be forgotten. Now begins +a new life as well for yourselves as for all of us. May this voice +penetrate to you through all the surroundings which normally make you +inaccessible! With proud self-reliance it dares to say to you: You +rule nations, faithful, plastic, and worthy of good fortune, such as +princes of no time and of no nation have ruled. They have a feeling +for freedom and are capable of it; but, because you so willed, they +have followed you into sanguinary war against that which to them +seemed freedom. Some among you have later willed otherwise, and, again +because you so willed, they have followed you into that which to them +must seem a war of annihilation against one of the last remnants of +German independence. Since that time they have endured and have borne +the oppressive burden of common woes; yet they do not cease to be +faithful to you, to cling to you with inward devotion, and to love +you as their divinely appointed guardians. Yet may you notice them, +unobserved by them; set free from surroundings which do not invariably +present to you the fairest aspect of humanity, may you be able to +descend into the house of the citizen, into the peasant's cottage, +and may you be able attentively to follow the still and hidden life of +these classes, in which the fidelity and the probity which have become +more rare in the higher classes seem to have sought refuge! Surely, +oh, surely, you will resolve to reflect more seriously than ever how +they may be helped! These addresses have proposed to you a means of +assistance which they believe to be sure, thorough, and decisive. Let +your councillors deliberate whether they also find it so or whether +they know a better means, provided only that it be equally decisive. +But the conviction that something must be done and must be done +immediately, that this something must be radical and final, and +that the time for half-measures and procrastination is past--this +conviction these addresses would fain produce, if they could, in +you personally, as they still cherish the utmost confidence in your +integrity. + +These addresses adjure you, Germans as a whole, whatever position +you may take in society, that each one among you who can think, think +first of all upon the theme that has been suggested, and that each one +do for it exactly what in his own place lies nearest to him. + +Your forefathers unite with these addresses and adjure you. Imagine +that in my voice are mingled the voices of your ancestors from dim +antiquity, who with their bodies opposed the on-rushing dominion of +the world-power of Rome, who with their blood won the independence of +the mountains, plains, and streams which, under your governance, have +become the booty of the stranger. They call to you: Represent us; +transmit to posterity our memory honorable and blameless as it came +to you, and as you have boasted of it and of descent from us. Thus far +our resistance has been held to be noble and great and wise; we seemed +to be initiated into the secrets of the divine plan of the universe. +If our race terminates with you, our honor is turned to shame and our +wisdom to folly. For if the German stock was some time to be merged +into that of Rome, it was better that this had been into the old Rome +than into a new. We faced the former and conquered it; before the +latter you have been scattered like the dust. Now, however, since +affairs are as they are, you are not to conquer them with physical +weapons; only your spirit is to rise and stand upright over against +them. To you has been vouchsafed the greater destiny of establishing +generally the empire of the spirit and of reason, and of wholly +annihilating rude physical power as that which dominates the world. If +you shall do this, then are you worthy of descent from us. + +In these voices also mingle the spirits of your later ancestors, of +those who fell in the holy struggle for freedom of religion and of +faith. Save our honor, likewise, they cry to you. It was not wholly +clear to us for what we fought. Besides the legitimate resolve not to +allow ourselves to be dominated in matters of conscience by a foreign +power, we were also impelled by a higher spirit who never revealed +himself entirely unto us. To you this spirit is revealed, if you have +the power to look into the spirit world, and he gazes upon you +with clear and lofty eyes. The motley and confused intermingling of +sensuous and of spiritual impulses is wholly to be deposed from +its world-dominion; and spirit alone, absolute, and stripped of all +sensuous impulses, is to take the helm of human affairs. Our blood was +shed that this spirit might have freedom to develop and to grow to an +independent existence. Upon you it depends to give to this sacrifice +its signification and its justification by installing this spirit into +the world-dominion destined for him. If this is not the final goal +toward which all the development of our nation has thus far aimed, +our struggles, too, become a passing, empty farce, and the freedom of +spirit and of conscience that we won is an empty word, if henceforth +there is to be no longer any spirit or any conscience whatsoever. + +Your descendants, still unborn, adjure you. You boast of your +forefathers, they cry to you, and proudly you connect yourselves with +a noble lineage. Take care that the chain may not be broken in you; so +do that we also may boast of you, and that through you, as through +a faultless link, we may connect ourselves with the same glorious +lineage. Cause us not to be compelled to be ashamed of our descent +from you as a descent that is low, barbarous, and slavish, so that +we must conceal our ancestry or must feign an alien name and an alien +lineage, lest we be immediately rejected or trodden under foot without +further test. On the next generation that will proceed from you, will +depend your fame in history: honorable, if this honorably witnesses +for you; but ignominious, even beyond desert, if you have no offspring +to speak for you, and if it is left to the victor to write your +history. Never yet has a victor had sufficient inclination or +sufficient knowledge rightly to judge the conquered. The more he +abases them, the more justified does he appear. Who can know what +mighty deeds, what magnificent institutions, and what noble customs of +many a people of antiquity have been forgotten because their posterity +was subjugated, and because, ungainsaid, the conqueror made his report +upon them in accordance with his interests? + +Even foreign lands adjure you so far as they still understand +themselves in the very least, and still have an eye for their true +advantage. Indeed, there are spirits among all peoples who still +cannot believe that the great promises made to the human race of a +reign of justice, of reason, and of truth can be a vain and an empty +phantom, and who assume, therefore, that the present iron age is but +a transit to a better state. They--and all modern humanity in +them--count on you. A great part of this humanity is descended from +us; the rest have received from us religion and culture. The former +adjure us by the soil of our common fatherland, which is also their +cradle, and which they have bequeathed free to us; the latter adjure +us by the culture which they have acquired from us as a pledge of a +higher happiness--they adjure us to maintain ourselves as we have ever +been, for their sake; and not to suffer this member, which is of so +much importance, to be torn from the continuity of the race that is +newly budded, lest they may painfully miss us if they some time need +our counsel, our example, our cooperation toward the true goal of +earthly life. + +All generations, all the wise and good who have ever breathed upon +this earth, all their thoughts and aspirations for something higher +mingle in these voices and surround you and lift to you imploring +hands. Even Providence, if we may so say, and the divine plan of the +universe in the creation of a human race--a plan which, indeed, exists +only to be thought out by man and to be realized by man--adjures you +to save its honor and its existence. Whether those are justified +who have believed that mankind must always grow better, and that +the conception of a certain order and dignity among them is no empty +dream, but the prophecy and the pledge of an ultimate actuality, +or whether those are to prevail who slumber on in their animal and +vegetative life, and who mock every flight to higher worlds-upon these +alternatives it is left to you to pass a final and decisive judgment. +The ancient world with its magnificence and with its grandeur, and +also with its faults, has sunk through its own unworthiness and +through your fathers' prowess. If there is truth in what has been +presented in these addresses, then, among all modern peoples, it is +you in whom the germ of the perfecting of humanity most decidedly +lies, and on whom progress in the development of this humanity is +enjoined. If you perish as a nation, all the hope of the entire human +race for rescue from the depths of its woe perishes together with you. +Do not hope and console yourselves with the imaginary idea, counting +on mere repetition of events that have already happened, that once +more, after the fall of the old civilization, a new one, proceeding +from a half-barbarous nation, will arise upon the ruins of the first. +In antiquity such a nation, equipped with all the requisites for +this destiny, was at hand, and was very well known to the nation of +culture, and was described by them; had they been able to imagine +their destruction, they themselves might have found in that +half-barbarous nation the means of their restoration. To us, also, the +entire surface of the earth is very well known, and all the peoples +that live upon it. Do we, then, now know any such people, like to +the aborigines of the New World, of whom similar expectations may be +entertained? I believe that every one who has not merely a fanatical +opinion and hope, but who thinks after profound investigation, will +be compelled to answer this question in the negative. There is, +therefore, no escape; if you sink, all humanity sinks with you, devoid +of hope of restoration at any future time. + +This it was, gentlemen, that at the close of these addresses I felt +compelled to impress upon you as representatives of the nation and, +through you, upon the nation as a whole. + + + + +_FRIEDRICH WILHELM JOSEPH VON SCHELLING_ + + * * * * * + +ON THE RELATION OF THE PLASTIC ARTS TO NATURE (1807) + +A Speech on the Celebration of the 12th October, 1807, as the Name-Day +of His Majesty the King of Bavaria + +Delivered before the Public Assembly of the Royal Academy of Sciences +of Munich + +TRANSLATED BY J. ELLIOT CABOT + + +Plastic Art, according to the most ancient expression, is silent +Poetry. The inventor of this definition no doubt meant thereby +that the former, like the latter, is to express spiritual +thoughts--conceptions whose source is the soul; only not by speech, +but, like silent Nature, by shape, by form, by corporeal, independent +works. + +Plastic Art, therefore, evidently stands as a uniting link between the +soul and Nature, and can be apprehended only in the living centre of +both. Indeed, since Plastic Art has its relation to the soul in common +with every other art, and particularly with Poetry, that by which +it is connected with Nature, and, like Nature, a productive force, +remains as its sole peculiarity; so that to this alone can a theory +relate which shall be satisfactory to the understanding, and helpful +and profitable to Art itself. + +We hope, therefore, in considering Plastic Art in relation to its +true prototype and original source, Nature, to be able to contribute +something new to its theory--to give some additional exactness or +clearness to the conceptions of it; but, above all, to set forth +the coherence of the whole structure of Art in the light of a higher +necessity. + +[Illustration: FRIEDRICH WILHELM JOSEPH VON SCHELLING Carl Begas] + +But has not Science always recognized this relation? Has not indeed +every theory of modern times taken its departure from this very +position, that Art should be the imitator of Nature? Such has indeed +been the case. But what should this broad general proposition +profit the artist, when the notion of Nature is of such various +interpretation, and when there are almost as many differing views of +it as there are various modes of life? Thus, to one, Nature is +nothing more than the lifeless aggregate of an indeterminable crowd +of objects, or the space in which, as in a vessel, he imagines things +placed; to another, only the soil from which he draws his nourishment +and support; to the inspired seeker alone, the holy, ever-creative +original energy of the world, which generates and busily evolves all +things out of itself. + +The proposition would indeed have a high significance, if it taught +Art to emulate this creative force; but the sense in which it was +meant can scarcely be doubtful to one acquainted with the universal +condition of Science at the time when it was first brought forward. +Singular enough that the very persons who denied all life to Nature +should set it up for imitation in Art! To them might be applied the +words of a profound writer:[5] "Your lying philosophy has put Nature +out of the way; and why do you call upon us to imitate her? Is it that +you may renew the pleasure by perpetrating the same violence on the +disciples of Nature?" + +Nature was to them not merely a dumb, but an altogether lifeless +image, in whose inmost being even no living word dwelt; a hollow +scaffolding of forms, of which as hollow an image was to be +transferred to the canvas, or hewn out of stone. + +This was the proper doctrine of those more ancient and savage nations, +who, as they saw in Nature nothing divine, fetched idols out of her; +whilst, to the susceptive Greeks, who everywhere felt the presence of +a vitally efficient principle, genuine gods arose out of Nature. + +But is, then, the disciple of Nature to copy everything in Nature +without distinction?--and, of everything, every part? Only beautiful +objects should be represented; and, even in these, only the Beautiful +and Perfect. + +Thus is the proposition further determined, but, at the same time, +this asserted, that, in Nature, the perfect is mingled with the +imperfect, the beautiful with the unbeautiful. Now, how should he who +stands in no other relation to Nature than that of servile imitation, +distinguish the one from the other? It is the way of imitators to +appropriate the faults of their model sooner and easier than its +excellences, since the former offer handles and tokens more easily +grasped; and thus we see that imitators of Nature in this sense have +imitated oftener, and even more affectionately, the ugly than the +beautiful. + +If we regard in things, not their principle, but the empty abstract +form, neither will they say anything to our soul; our own heart, our +own spirit we must put to it, that they answer us. + +But what is the perfection of a thing? Nothing else than the creative +life in it, its power to exist. Never, therefore, will he, who fancies +that Nature is altogether dead, be successful in that profound process +(analogous to the chemical) whence proceeds, purified as by fire, the +pure gold of Beauty and Truth. + +Nor was there any change in the main view of the relation of Art to +Nature, even when the unsatisfactoriness of the principle began to +be more generally felt; no change, even by the new views and new +knowledge so nobly established by John Winckelmann. He indeed restored +to the soul its full efficiency in Art, and raised it from its +unworthy dependence into the realm of spiritual freedom. Powerfully +moved by the beauty of form in the works of antiquity, he taught that +the production of ideal Nature, of Nature elevated above the Actual, +together with the expression of spiritual conceptions, is the highest +aim of Art. + +But if we examine in what sense this surpassing of the Actual by Art +has been understood by the most, it turns out that, with this view +also, the notion of Nature as mere product, of things as a lifeless +result, still continued; and the idea of a living creative Nature +was in no wise awakened by it. Thus these ideal forms also could be +animated by no positive insight into their nature; and if the forms +of the Actual were dead for the dead beholder, these were not less so. +Were no independent production of the Actual possible, neither would +there be of the Ideal. The object of the imitation was changed; +the imitation remained. In the place of Nature were substituted the +sublime works of Antiquity, whose outward forms the pupils busied +themselves in imitating, but without the spirit that fills them. These +forms, however, are as unapproachable, nay, more so, than the works of +Nature, and leave us yet colder if we bring not to them the spiritual +eye to penetrate through the veil and feel the stirring energy within. + +On the other hand, artists, since that time, have indeed received a +certain ideal impetus, and notions of a beauty superior to matter; +but these notions were like fair words, to which the deeds do not +correspond. While the previous method in Art produced bodies without +soul, this view taught only the secret of the soul, but not that of +the body. The theory had, as usual, passed with one hasty stride to +the opposite extreme; but the vital mean it had not yet found. + +Who can say that Winckelmann had not penetrated into the highest +beauty? But with him it appeared in its dissevered elements only: on +the one side as beauty in idea, and flowing out from the soul; on the +other, as beauty of forms. + +But what is the efficient link that connects the two? Or by what power +is the soul created together with the body, at once and as if with one +breath? If this lies not within the power of Art, as of Nature, +then it can create nothing whatever. This vital connecting link, +Winckelmann did not determine; he did not teach how, from the idea, +forms can be produced. Thus Art went over to that method which we +would call the retrograde, since it strives from the form to come +at the essence. But not thus is the Unlimited reached; it is not +attainable by mere enhancement of the Limited. Hence, such works as +have had their beginning in form, with all elaborateness on that side, +show, in token of their origin, an incurable want at the very point +where we expect the consummate, the essential, the final. The miracle +by which the Limited should be raised to the Unlimited, the human +become divine, is wanting; the magic circle is drawn, but the spirit +that it should inclose, appears not, being disobedient to the call of +him who thought a creation possible through mere form. + + * * * * * + +Nature meets us everywhere, at first with reserve, and in form more or +less severe. She is like that quiet and serious beauty, that excites +not attention by noisy advertisement, nor attracts the vulgar gaze. + +How can we, as it were, spiritually melt this apparently rigid form, +so that the pure energy of things may flow together with the force of +our spirit and both become one united mold? We must transcend Form, +in order to gain it again as intelligible, living, and truly felt. +Consider the most beautiful forms; what remains behind after you have +abstracted from them the creative principle within? Nothing but mere +unessential qualities, such as extension and the relations of space. +Does the fact that one portion of matter exists near another, and +distinct from it, contribute anything to its inner essence? or does +it not rather contribute nothing? Evidently the latter. It is not mere +contiguous existence, but the manner of it, that makes form; and this +can be determined only by a positive force, which is even opposed to +separateness, and subordinates the manifoldness of the parts to the +unity of one idea--from the force that works in the crystal to the +force which, comparable to a gentle magnetic current, gives to the +particles of matter in the human form that position and arrangement +among themselves, through which the idea, the essential unity and +beauty, can become visible. + +Not only, however, as active principle, but as spirit and effective +science, must the essence appear to us in the form, in order that we +may truly apprehend it. For all unity must be spiritual in nature and +origin; and what is the aim of all investigation of Nature but to find +science therein? For that wherein there is no Understanding cannot +be the object of Understanding; the Unknowing cannot be known. The +science by which Nature works is not, however, like human science, +connected with reflection upon itself; in it, the conception is not +separate from the act, nor the design from the execution. Therefore, +rude matter strives, as it were, blindly, after regular shape, +and unknowingly assumes pure stereometric forms, which belong, +nevertheless, to the realm of ideas, and are something spiritual in +the material. + +The sublimest arithmetic and geometry are innate in the stars, and +unconsciously displayed by them in their motions. More distinctly, but +still beyond their grasp, the living cognition appears in animals; +and thus we see them, though wandering about without reflection, bring +about innumerable results far more excellent than themselves: the bird +that, intoxicated with music, transcends itself in soul-like tones; +the little artistic creature, that, without practise or instruction, +accomplishes light works of architecture; but all directed by an +overpowering spirit, that lightens in them already with single flashes +of knowledge, but as yet appears nowhere as the full sun, as in Man. + +This formative science in Nature and Art is the link that connects +idea and form, body and soul. Before everything stands an eternal +idea, formed in the Infinite Understanding; but by what means does +this idea pass into actuality and embodiment? Only through the +creative science that is as necessarily connected with the Infinite +Understanding, as in the artist the principle that seizes the idea +of unsensuous Beauty is linked with that which sets it forth to the +senses. + +If that artist be called happy and praiseworthy before all to whom +the gods have granted this creative spirit, then that work of art will +appear excellent which shows to us, as in outline, this unadulterated +energy of creation and activity of Nature. + +It was long ago perceived that, in Art, not everything is performed +with consciousness; that, with the conscious activity, an unconscious +action must combine; and that it is of the perfect unity and mutual +interpenetration of the two that the highest in Art is born. + +Works that want this seal of unconscious science are recognized by +the evident absence of life self-supported and independent of the +producer; as, on the contrary, where this acts, Art imparts to its +work, together with the utmost clearness to the understanding, that +unfathomable reality wherein it resembles a work of Nature. + +It has often been attempted to make clear the position of the artist +in regard to Nature, by saying that Art, in order to be such, must +first withdraw itself from Nature, and return to it only in the final +perfection. The true sense of this saying, it seems to us, can be no +other than this--that in all things in Nature, the living idea shows +itself only blindly active; were it so also in the artist, he would be +in nothing distinct from Nature. But, should he attempt consciously to +subordinate himself altogether to the Actual, and render with servile +fidelity the already existing, he would produce _larvae_, but no works +of Art. He must therefore withdraw himself from the product, from the +creature, but only in order to raise himself to the creative energy, +spiritually seizing the same. Thus he ascends into the realm of +pure ideas; he forsakes the creature, to regain it with thousandfold +interest, and in this sense certainly to return to Nature. This spirit +of Nature working at the core of things, and speaking through form +and shape as by symbols only, the artist must certainly follow with +emulation; and only so far as he seizes this with genial imitation +has he himself produced anything genuine. For works produced by +aggregation, even of forms beautiful in themselves, would still be +destitute of all beauty, since that, through which the work on the +whole is truly beautiful, cannot be mere form. It is above form--it +is Essence, the Universal, the look and expression of the indwelling +spirit of Nature. + +Now it can scarcely be doubtful what is to be thought of the so-called +idealizing of Nature in Art, so universally demanded. This demand +seems to arise from a way of thinking, according to which not Truth, +Beauty, Goodness, but the contrary of all these, is the Actual. Were +the Actual indeed opposed to Truth and Beauty, it would be necessary +for the artist, not to elevate or idealize it, but to get rid of and +destroy it, in order to create something true and beautiful. But how +should it be possible for anything to be actual except the True; and +what is Beauty, if not full, complete Being? + +What higher aim, therefore, could Art have, than to represent that +which in Nature actually _is_? Or how should it undertake to excel +so-called actual Nature, since it must always fall short of it? + +For does Art impart to its works actual, sensuous life? This statue +breathes not, is stirred by no pulsation, warmed by no blood. + +But both the pretended excelling and the apparent falling short show +themselves as the consequences of one and the same principle, as soon +as we place the aim of Art in the exhibiting of that which truly is. + +Only on the surface have its works the appearance of life; in Nature, +life seems to reach deeper, and to be wedded entirely with matter. +But does not the continual mutation of matter and the universal lot +of final dissolution teach us the unessential character of this union, +and that it is no intimate fusion? Art, accordingly, in the merely +superficial animation of its works, but represents Nothingness as +non-existing. + +How comes it that, to every tolerably cultivated taste, imitations of +the so-called Actual, even though carried to deception, appear in the +last degree untrue--nay, produce the impression of spectres; whilst a +work in which the idea is predominant strikes us with the full force +of truth, conveying us then only to the genuinely actual world? Whence +comes it, if not from the more or less obscure feeling which tells us +that the idea alone is the living principle in things, but all else +unessential and vain shadow? + +On the same ground may be explained all the opposite cases which +are brought up as instances of the surpassing of Nature by Art. In +arresting the rapid course of human years; in uniting the energy of +developed manhood with the soft charm of early youth; or exhibiting +a mother of grown-up sons and daughters in the full possession of +vigorous beauty--what does Art except to annul what is unessential, +Time? + +If, according to the remark of a discerning critic, every growth in +Nature has but an instant of truly complete beauty, we may also say +that it has, too, only an instant of full existence. In this instant +it is what it is in all eternity; besides this, it has only a coming +into and a passing out of existence. Art, in representing the thing +at that instant, removes it out of Time, and sets it forth in its pure +Being, in the eternity of its life. + +After everything positive and essential had once been abstracted from +Form, it necessarily appeared restrictive, and, as it were, hostile, +to the Essence; and the same theory that had reproduced the false and +powerless Ideal, necessarily tended to the formless in Art. Form would +indeed be a limitation of the Essence if it existed independent of it. +But if it exists with and by means of the Essence, how could this feel +itself limited by that which it has itself created? Violence +would indeed be done it by a form forced upon it, but never by +one proceeding from itself. In this, on the contrary, it must rest +contented, and feel its own existence to be perfect and complete. + +Determinateness of form is in Nature never a negation, but ever +an affirmation. Commonly, indeed, the shape of a body seems a +confinement; but could we behold the creative energy it would reveal +itself as the measure that this energy imposes upon itself, and in +which it shows itself a truly intelligent force; for in everything +is the power of self-rule allowed to be an excellence, and one of the +highest. + +In like manner most persons consider the particular in a negative +manner--i.e., as that which is not the whole or all. Yet no +particular exists by means of its limitation, but through the +indwelling force with which it maintains itself as a particular Whole, +in distinction from the Universe. + +This force of particularity, and thus also of individuality, +showing itself as vital character, the negative conception of it +is necessarily followed by an unsatisfying and false view of the +characteristic in Art. Lifeless and of intolerable hardness would be +the Art that should aim to exhibit the empty shell or limitation of +the Individual. Certainly we desire to see not merely the individual, +but, more than this, its vital Idea. But if the artist has seized the +inward creative spirit and essence of the Idea, and sets this forth, +he makes the individual a world in itself, a class, an eternal +prototype; and he who has grasped the essential character needs not +to fear hardness and severity, for these are the conditions of life. +Nature, that in her completeness appears as the utmost benignity, +we see, in each particular, aiming even primarily and principally at +severity, seclusion and reserve. As the whole creation is the work +of the utmost externization and renunciation [Entäusserung], so +the artist must first deny himself and descend into the Particular, +without shunning isolation, nor the pain, the anguish of Form. + +Nature, from her first works, is throughout characteristic; the energy +of fire, the splendor of light, she shuts up in hard stone, the tender +soul of melody in severe metal; even on the threshold of Life, and +already meditating organic shape, she sinks back overpowered by the +might of Form, into petrifaction. + +The life of the plant consists in still receptivity, but in what +exact and severe outline is this passive life inclosed! In the animal +kingdom the strife between Life and Form seems first properly to +begin; her first works Nature hides in hard shells, and, where these +are laid aside, the animated world attaches itself again through its +constructive impulse to the realm of crystallization. Finally +she comes forward more boldly and freely, and vital, important +characteristics show themselves, being the same through whole classes. +Art, however, cannot begin so far down as Nature. Though Beauty is +spread everywhere, yet there are various grades in the appearance +and unfolding of the Essence, and thus of Beauty. But Art demands a +certain fulness, and desires not to strike a single note or tone, nor +even a detached accord, but at once the full symphony of Beauty. + +Art, therefore, prefers to grasp immediately at the highest and most +developed, the human form. For since it is not given it to embrace +the immeasurable whole, and as in all other creatures only single +fulgurations, in Man alone full entire Being appears without +abatement, Art is not only permitted but required to see the sum of +Nature in Man alone. But precisely on this account--that she here +assembles all in one point--Nature repeats her whole multiformity, and +pursues again in a narrower compass the same course that she had gone +through in her wide circuit. + +Here, therefore, arises the demand upon the artist first to be true +and faithful in detail, in order to come forth complete and beautiful +in the whole. Here he must wrestle with the creative spirit of Nature +(which in the human world also deals out character and stamp in +endless variety), not in weak and effeminate, but stout and courageous +conflict. + +Persevering exercise in the study of that by virtue of which the +characteristic in things is a positive principle, must preserve him +from emptiness, weakness, inward inanity, before he can venture to +aim, by ever higher combination and final melting together of manifold +forms, to reach the extremest beauty in works uniting the highest +simplicity with infinite meaning. + +Only through the perfection of form can Form be made to disappear; and +this is certainly the final aim of Art in the Characteristic. But as +the apparent harmony that is even more easily reached by the empty and +frivolous than by others, is yet inwardly vain; so in Art the quickly +attained harmony of the exterior, without inward fulness. And if it is +the part of theory and instruction to oppose the spiritless copying +of beautiful forms, especially must they oppose the tendency toward +an effeminate characterless Art, which gives itself, indeed, higher +names, but therewith only seeks to hide its incapacity to fulfil the +fundamental conditions. + +That lofty Beauty in which the fulness of form causes Form itself to +disappear, was adopted by the modern theory of Art, after Winckelmann, +not only as the highest, but as the only standard. But as the deep +foundation upon which it rests was overlooked, it resulted that a +negative conception was formed even of that which is the sum of all +affirmation. + +Winckelmann compares Beauty with water drawn from the bosom of the +spring, which, the less taste it has, the wholesomer it is esteemed. +It is true that the highest Beauty is characterless, but so we say +of the Universe that it has no determinate dimension, neither length, +breadth nor depth, since it has all in equal infinity; or that the Art +of creative Nature is formless, because she herself is subjected to no +form. + +In this and in no other sense can we say that Grecian art in its +highest development rises into the characterless; but it did not aim +immediately at this. It was from the bonds of Nature that it struggled +upward to divine freedom. From no lightly scattered seed, but only +from a deeply infolded kernel, could this heroic growth spring up. +Only mighty emotions, only a deep stirring of the fancy through the +impression of all-enlivening, all-commanding energies of Nature, +could stamp upon Art that invincible vigor with which from the rigid, +secluded earnestness of earlier productions up to the period of works +overflowing with sensuous grace, it ever remained faithful to truth, +and produced the highest spiritual Reality which it is given to +mortals to behold. + +In like manner, as their Tragedy commences with the grandest +characteristicness in morals, so the beginning of their Plastic Art +was the earnestness of Nature, and the stern goddess of Athens its +first and only Muse. + +This epoch is marked by that style which Winckelmann describes as the +still harsh and severe, from which the next or lofty style was able to +develop itself by the mere enhancement of the Characteristic into the +Sublime and the Simple. + +For in the statues of the most perfect or divine natures not only +all the complexity of form of which human nature is capable had to +be united, but moreover the union must be such as may be conceived to +exist in the system of the Universe itself--the lower forms, or those +relating to inferior attributes, being comprehended under higher, and +all at last under one supreme form, in which they indeed extinguish +one another as separately existing, but still continue in Essence and +efficiency. + +Thus, though we cannot call this high and self-sufficing Beauty +characteristic, so far as herewith is connected the notion of +limitation or conditionality in the manifestation, yet still the +characteristic continues efficient, though indistinguishable, within; +as in the crystal, although transparent, the texture nevertheless +remains; each characteristic element has its weight, however slight, +and helps to bring about the sublime equipoise of Beauty. + +The outer side or basis of all Beauty is beauty of form. But as +Form cannot exist without Essence, wherever Form is, there also is +Character, whether in visible presence or only perceptible in its +effects. Characteristic Beauty, therefore, is Beauty in the root, +from which alone Beauty can arise as the fruit. Essence may, indeed, +outgrow Form, but even then the Characteristic remains as the still +efficient groundwork of the Beautiful. + +That most excellent critic,[6] to whom the gods have given sway over +Nature as well as Art, compares the Characteristic in its relation to +Beauty, with the skeleton in its relation to the living form. Were we +to interpret this striking simile in our sense, we should say that +the skeleton, in Nature, is not, as in our thought, detached from the +living whole; that the firm and the yielding, the determining and +the determined, mutually presuppose each other, and can exist only +together; thus that the vitally Characteristic is already the whole +form, the result of the action and reaction of bone and flesh, of +Active and Passive. And although Art, like Nature, in its higher +developments, thrusts inward the previously visible skeleton, yet the +latter can never be opposed to Shape and Beauty, since it has always +a determining share in the production of the one as well as of the +other. + +But whether that high and independent Beauty should be the only +standard in Art, as it is the highest, seems to depend on the degree +of fulness and extent that belongs to the particular Art. + +Nature, in her wide circumference, ever exhibits the higher with the +lower; creating in Man the godlike, she elaborates in all her other +productions only its material and foundation, which must exist in +order that in contrast with it the Essence as such may appear. And +even in the higher world of Man the great mass serves again as the +basis upon which the godlike that is preserved pure in the few, +manifests itself in legislation, government, and the establishment of +Religion. So that wherever Art works with more of the complexity of +Nature, it may and must display, together with the highest measure of +Beauty, also its groundwork and raw material, as it were, in distinct +appropriate forms. + +Here first prominently unfolds itself the difference in Nature of the +forms of Art. + +Plastic Art, in the more exact sense of the term, disdains to give +Space outwardly to the object, but bears it within itself. This, +however, narrows its field; it is compelled, indeed, to display the +beauty of the Universe almost in a single point. It must therefore aim +immediately at the highest, and can attain complexity only separately +and in the strictest exclusion of all conflicting elements. By +isolating the purely animal in human nature it succeeds in forming +inferior creations too, harmonious and even beautiful, as we are +taught by the beauty of numerous Fauns preserved from antiquity; yea, +it can, parodying itself like the merry spirit of Nature, reverse +its own Ideal, and, for instance, in the extravagance of the Silenic +figures, by light and sportive treatment appear freed again from the +pressure of matter. + +But in all cases it is compelled strictly to isolate the work, in +order to make it self-consistent and a world in itself; since for +this form of Art there is no higher unity, in which the dissonance of +particulars should be melted into harmony. + +Painting, on the contrary, in the very extent of its sphere, can +better measure itself with the Universe, and create with epic +profusion. In an Iliad there is room even for a Thersites; and what +does not find a place in the great epic of Nature and History! + +Here the Particular scarcely counts anything by itself; the Universe +takes its place, and that, which by itself would not be beautiful, +becomes so in the harmony of the whole. If in an extensive painting, +uniting forms by the allotted space, by light, by shade, by +reflection, the highest measure of Beauty were everywhere employed, +the result would be the most unnatural monotony; for, as Winckelmann +says, the highest idea of Beauty is everywhere one and the same, and +scarcely admits of variation. The detail would be preferred to +the whole, where, as in every case in which the whole is formed by +multiplicity, the detail must be subordinate to it. + +[Illustration: THE JUNGFRAU _From the Painting by Moritz von Schwind_] + +In such a work, therefore, a gradation of Beauty must be observed, by +which alone the full Beauty concentrated in the focus becomes visible; +and from an exaggeration of particulars proceeds an equipoise of the +whole. Here, then, the limited and characteristic finds its place; and +theory at least should direct the painter, not so much to the narrow +space in which the entire Beauty is concentrically collected, as to +the characteristic complexity of Nature, through which alone he can +impart to an extensive work the full measure of living significance. + +Thus thought, among the founders of modern art, the noble Leonardo; +thus Raphael, the master of high Beauty, who shunned not to exhibit +it in smaller measure, rather than to appear monotonous, lifeless, and +unreal--though he understood not only how to produce it, but also how +to break up uniformity by variety of expression. + +For, although Character can show itself also in rest and equilibrium +of form, it is only in action that it becomes truly alive. + +By character we understand a unity of several forces, operating +constantly to produce among them a certain equipoise and determinate +proportion, to which, if undisturbed, a like equipoise in the symmetry +of the forms corresponds. But if this vital Unity is to display itself +in act and operation, this can only be when the forces, excited by +some cause to rebellion, forsake their equilibrium. Every one sees +that this is the case in the Passions. + +Here we are met by the well-known maxim of the theorists, which +demands that Passion should be moderated as far as possible, in its +actual outburst, that beauty of Form may not be injured. But we think +this maxim should rather be reversed, and read thus--that Passion +should be moderated by Beauty itself. For it is much to be feared that +this desired moderation too may be taken in a negative sense--whereas, +what is really requisite is to oppose to Passion a positive force. For +as Virtue consists, not in the absence of passions, but in the mastery +of the spirit over them, so Beauty is preserved, not by their removal +or abatement, but by the mastery of Beauty over them. + +The forces of Passion must actually show themselves--it must be seen +that they are prepared to rise in mutiny, but are kept down by the +power of Character, and break against the forms of firmly-founded +Beauty, as the waves of a stream that just fills, but cannot overflow +its banks. Otherwise, this striving after moderation would resemble +only the method of those shallow moralists, who, the more readily +to dispose of Man, prefer to mutilate his nature; and who have so +entirely removed every positive element from actions that the +people gloat over the spectacle of great crimes, in order to refresh +themselves at last with the view of something positive. + +In Nature and Art the Essence strives first after actualization, +or exhibition of itself in the Particular. Thus in each the utmost +severity is manifested at the commencement; for without bound, the +boundless could not appear; without severity, gentleness could not +exist; and if unity is to be perceptible, it can only be through +particularity, detachment, and opposition. In the beginning, +therefore, the creative spirit shows itself entirely lost in the Form, +inaccessibly shut up, and even in its grandeur still harsh. But the +more it succeeds in uniting its entire fulness in one product, the +more it gradually relaxes from its severity; and where it has fully +developed the form, so as to rest contented and self-collected in it, +it seems to become cheerful and begins to move in gentle lines. This +is the period of its fairest maturity and blossom, in which the pure +vessel has arrived at perfection; the spirit of Nature becomes free +from its bonds, and feels its relationship to the soul. By a gentle +morning blush stealing over the whole form, the coming soul announces +itself; it is not yet present, but everything prepares for its +reception by the delicate play of gentle movements; the rigid outlines +melt and temper themselves into flexibility; a lovely essence, neither +sensuous nor spiritual, but which cannot be grasped, diffuses itself +over the form, and intwines itself with every outline, every vibration +of the frame. + +This essence, not to be seized, as we have already remarked, but yet +perceptible to all, is what the language of the Greeks designated by +the name _Charis_, ours as Grace. + +Wherever, in a fully developed form, Grace appears, the work is +complete on the side of Nature; nothing more is wanting; all demands +are satisfied. Here, already, soul and body are in complete harmony; +Body is Form, Grace is Soul, although not Soul in itself, but the Soul +of Form, or the Soul of Nature. + +Art may linger, and remain stationary at this point; for already, +on one side at least, its whole task is finished. The pure image of +Beauty arrested at this point is the Goddess of Love. + +But the beauty of the Soul in itself, joined to sensuous Grace, is the +highest apotheosis of Nature. + +The spirit of Nature is only in appearance opposed to the Soul; +essentially, it is the instrument of its revelation; it brings about +indeed the antagonism that exists in all things, but only that the +one essence may come forth, as the utmost benignity, and the +reconciliation of all the forces. + +All other creatures are driven by the mere force of Nature, and +through it maintain their individuality; in Man alone, as the central +point, arises the soul, without which the world would be like the +natural universe without the sun. The Soul in Man, therefore, is not +the principle of individuality, but that whereby he raises himself +above all egoism, whereby he becomes capable of self-sacrifice, of +disinterested love, and (which is the highest) of the contemplation +and knowledge of the Essence of things, and thus of Art. + +In him it is no longer concerned about Matter nor has it immediate +concern with it, but with the spirit only as the life of things. +Even while appearing in the body, it is yet free from the body, the +consciousness of which hovers in the soul in the most beauteous shapes +only as a light, undisturbing dream. It is no quality, no faculty, nor +anything special of the sort; it knows not, but is Science; it is +not good, but Goodness; it is not beautiful, as body even may be, but +Beauty itself. + +In the first instance, it is true, in a work of art, the soul of the +artist is seen as invention in the detail, and in the total result as +the unity that hovers over the work in serene stillness. But the Soul +must be visible in objective representation, as the primeval energy +of thought, in portraitures of human beings, altogether filled by an +idea, by a noble contemplation; or as indwelling, essential Goodness. + +Each of these finds its distinct expression even in the completest +repose, but a more living one where the Soul can reveal itself in +activity and antagonism; and since it is by the passions mainly that +the peace of life is interrupted, it is the generally received opinion +that the beauty of the Soul shows itself especially in its quiet +supremacy amid the storm of the passions. + +But here an important distinction is to be made. For the Soul must not +be called upon to moderate those passions which are only an outbreak +of the lower spirits of Nature, nor can it be displayed in antithesis +with these; for where calm considerateness is still in contention +with them, the Soul has not yet appeared; they must be moderated by +unassisted Nature in Man, by the might of the Spirit. But there are +cases of a higher sort, in which not a single force alone, but the +intelligent Spirit itself breaks down all barriers--cases, indeed, +where even the Soul is subjected by the bond that connects it with +sensuous existence, to pain, which should be foreign to its divine +nature; where Man feels himself hard fought and attacked in the root +of his existence, not by mere powers of Nature, but by moral forces; +where innocent error hurries him into crime, and thus into misery; +where deep-felt injustice excites to rebellion the holiest feelings of +humanity. + +This is the case in all situations, truly, and, in a high sense, +tragic, such as the Tragedy of the ancients brings before our eyes. +Where blindly passionate forces are aroused, the collected Spirit is +present as the guardian of Beauty; but if the Spirit itself be carried +away, as by an irresistible might, what power shall watch over +and protect sacred beauty? Or, if even the soul participate in the +struggle, how shall it save itself from pain and from desecration? + +Arbitrarily to restrain the power of pain, of feeling in revolt, would +be to sin against the very meaning and aim of Art, and would betray a +want of feeling and soul in the artist himself. + +Already therein, that Beauty, based on grand and firmly established +forms, has become Character, Art has provided the means of displaying +without injury to symmetry the whole intensity of Feeling. For where +Beauty rests on mighty forms, as upon immovable pillars, even a slight +change in its relations, scarcely touching the form, causes us to +infer the great force that was necessary in order to provide it. Still +more does Grace sanctify pain. It is the essential nature of Grace +that it does not know itself; but not being wilfully acquired, it also +cannot be wilfully lost. When intolerable anguish, when even madness, +sent by avenging gods, takes away consciousness and reason, Grace +stands as a protecting demon by the suffering person, and prevents it +from manifesting anything unseemly, anything discordant to Humanity, +but sees to it that, if the person falls, it falls at least a pure and +unspotted victim. + +Although not yet the Soul itself, but its forebodings only, Grace +accomplishes by natural means what the Soul does by a divine power, in +transforming pain, torpor, even death itself, into Beauty. + +Yet Grace, which thus maintained itself in the extremest adversity, +would be dead, without its transfiguration by the Soul. But what +expression can belong to the Soul in this situation? It delivers +itself from pain, and comes forth conquering, not conquered, by +relinquishing its connection with sensuous existence. + +It is for the natural Spirit to exert its energies for the +preservation of sensuous existence; the Soul enters not into +this contest, but its presence moderates even the storms of +painfully-struggling life. Outward force can take away only outward +goods, but not reach the Soul; it can tear asunder a temporal bond, +not dissolve the eternal one of a truly divine love. Not hard and +unfeeling, nor giving up love itself, on the contrary the Soul +displays in pain this love alone, as the sentiment that outlasts +sensuous existence, and thus raises itself above the ruins of outward +life or fortune in divine glory. + +It is this expression of the Soul that the creator of the Niobe has +presented to us. All the means by which Art tempers even the Terrible, +are here made use of. Mightiness of form, sensuous Grace, nay, even +the nature of the subject-matter itself, soften the expression, +through this, that Pain, transcending all expression, annihilates +itself, and Beauty, which it seemed impossible to preserve from +destruction when alive, is protected from injury by the commencing +torpor. + +But what would it all be without the Soul, and how does this manifest +itself? + +We see on the countenance of the mother, not grief alone for the +already prostrated flower of her children; not alone deadly anxiety +for the preservation of those yet remaining, and of the youngest +daughter, who has fled for safety to her bosom; nor resentment against +the cruel deities; least of all, as is pretended, cool defiance-all +these we see, indeed, but not these alone; for, through grief, +anxiety, and resentment streams, like a divine light, eternal love, as +that which alone remains; and in this is preserved the mother, as +one who was not, but now is a mother, and who remains united with the +beloved ones by an eternal bond. + +Every one acknowledges that greatness, purity, and goodness of Soul +have also their sensuous expressions. But how is this conceivable, +unless the principle that acts in Matter be itself cognate and similar +to Soul? + +For the representation of the Soul there are again gradations in +Art, according as it is joined with the merely Characteristic, or in +visible union with the Charming and Graceful. + +Who perceives not already, in the tragedies of Æschylus, the presence +of that lofty morality which is predominant in the works of Sophocles? +But in the former it is enveloped in a bitter rind, and passes +less into the whole work, since the bond of sensuous Grace is still +wanting. But out of this severity, and the still rude charms of +earlier Art, could proceed the grace of Sophocles, and with it the +complete fusion of the two elements, which leaves us doubtful whether +it is more moral or sensuous Grace that enchants us in the works of +this poet. + +The same is true of the plastic productions of the early and severe +style, in comparison with the gentleness of the later. + +If Grace, besides being the transfiguration of the spirit of Nature, +is also the medium of connection between moral Goodness and sensuous +Appearance, it is evident how Art must tend from all points toward +it as its centre. This Beauty, which results from the perfect +interpenetration of moral Goodness and sensuous Grace, seizes and +enchants us when we meet it, with the force of a miracle. For, whilst +the spirit of Nature shows itself everywhere else independent of the +Soul, and, indeed, in a measure opposed to it, here, it seems, as if +by voluntary accord, and the inward fire of divine love, to melt into +union with it; the remembrance of the fundamental unity of the essence +of Nature and the essence of the Soul comes over the beholder with +sudden clearness--the conviction that all antagonism is only apparent, +that Love is the bond of all things, and pure Goodness the foundation +and substance of the whole Creation. + +Here Art, as it were, transcends itself, and again becomes means only. +On this summit sensuous Grace becomes in turn only the husk and body +of a higher life; what was before a whole is treated as a part, and +the highest relation of Art and Nature is reached in this--that it +makes Nature the medium of manifesting the soul which it contains. + +But though in this blossoming of Art, as in the blossoming of the +vegetable kingdom, all the previous stages are repeated, yet, on the +other hand, we may see in what various directions Art can proceed from +this centre. Especially does the difference in nature of the two +forms of Plastic Art here show itself most strongly. For Sculpture, +representing its ideas by corporeal things, seems to reach its highest +point in the complete equilibrium of Soul and Matter--if it give a +preponderance to the latter it sinks below its own idea--but it seems +altogether impossible for it to elevate the Soul at the expense of +Matter, since it must thereby transcend itself. The perfect sculptor +indeed, as Winckelmann remarks apropos of the Belvedere Apollo, will +use no more material than is needful to accomplish his spiritual +purpose; but also, on the other hand, he will put into the Soul no +more energy than is at the same time expressed in the material; for +precisely upon this, fully to embody the spiritual, depends his +art. Sculpture, therefore, can reach its true summit only in the +representation of those natures in whose constitution it is implied +that they actually embody all that is contained in their Idea or Soul; +thus only in divine natures. So that Sculpture, even if no Mythology +had preceded it, would of itself have come upon gods, and have +invented such if it found none. + +Moreover as the Spirit, on this lower platform, has again the same +relation to Matter that we have ascribed to the Soul (being the +principle of activity and motion, as Matter is that of rest and +inaction), the law that regulates Expression and Passion must be a +fundamental principle of its nature. + +But this law must be applicable not only to the lower passions, but +also equally to those higher and godlike passions, if it is permitted +so to call them, by which the Soul is affected in rapture, in +devotion, in adoration. Hence, since from these passions the gods +alone are exempt, Sculpture is inclined from this side also to the +imaging of divine natures. + +The nature of Painting, however, seems to differ entirely from that of +Sculpture. For the former represents objects, not like the latter, by +corporeal things, but by light and color, through a medium therefore +itself incorporeal and in a measure spiritual. Painting, moreover, +gives out its productions nowise as the things themselves, but +expressly as pictures. From its very nature therefore it does not lay +as much stress on the material as Sculpture, and seems indeed for +this reason, while exalting the material above the spirit, to degrade +itself more than Sculpture in a like case; on the other hand to be so +much more justified in giving a clear preponderance to the Soul. + +Where it aims at the highest it will indeed ennoble the passions by +Character, or moderate them by Grace, or manifest in them the power of +the Soul: but on the other hand it is precisely those higher passions, +depending on the relationship of the Soul with a Supreme Being, that +are entirely suited to the nature of Painting. Indeed, while Sculpture +maintains an exact balance between the force whereby a thing exists +outwardly and acts in Nature and that by virtue of which it lives +inwardly and as Soul, and excludes mere suffering even from Matter, +Painting may soften in favor of the Soul the characteristicness of the +force and activity in Matter, and transform it into resignation +and endurance, making it apparent that Man becomes more generally +susceptible to the inspirations of the Soul, and to higher influences +in general. + +This diametrical difference explains of itself not only the necessary +predominance of Sculpture in the ancient, and of Painting in the +modern world (since in the former the tone of mind was thoroughly +plastic, whereas the latter makes even the Soul the passive instrument +of higher revelations); but this also is evident--that it is +not enough to strive after the Plastic in form and manner of +representation, but that it is requisite, before all, to think and to +feel plastically, that is, antiquely. + +And as the deviation of Sculpture into the picturesque is destructive +to Art, so the narrowing down of Painting to the conditions and forms +belonging to Sculpture is an arbitrarily imposed limitation. For while +Sculpture, like gravitation, acts toward one point, it is permitted to +Painting, as to light, to fill all space with its creative energy. + +This unlimited universality of Painting is demonstrated by History +itself, and by the examples of the greatest masters, who, without +injury to the essential character of their art, have developed to +perfection each particular stage by itself, so that we can find also +in the history of Art the same sequence that may be pointed out in its +nature--not indeed in exact order of time, but yet substantially. For +thus is represented in Michelangelo the oldest and mightiest epoch of +liberated Art, that in which it displays its yet uncontrolled strength +in gigantic progeny; as in the fables of the symbolic Fore-world, the +Earth, after the embrace of Uranus, brought forth at first Titans and +heaven-storming giants before the mild reign of the serene gods began. + +Thus the painting of the Last Judgment, with which, as the sum of his +art, that giant spirit filled the Sistine Chapel, seems to remind +us more of the first ages of the Earth and its products, than of +its last. Attracted toward the most hidden abysses of organic, +particularly of the human form, he shuns not the Terrible; nay, +he seeks it purposely, and startles it from its repose in the dark +workshops of Nature. Want of delicacy, grace, pleasingness, he +balances by the extremest energy; and if he excites horror by his +representations, it is the terror that, according to fable, the +ancient god Pan spreads around him when he suddenly appears in the +assemblies of men. + +It is the method of Nature to produce the extraordinary by isolation +and the exclusion of opposed qualities. Thus, it was necessary that, +in Michelangelo, earnestness and the deep significant energy of Nature +should prevail, rather than a sense of the grace and sensibility that +belong to the Soul, in order to display the extreme of pure plastic +force in the painting of modern times. + +After the earlier violence and the vehement impulse of birth is +assuaged, the spirit of Nature is transfigured into Soul, and Grace is +born. This point Art reached, after Leonardo da Vinci, in Correggio, +in whose works the sensuous Soul is the active principle of Beauty. + + * * * * * + +As the modern fable of Psyche closes the circle of the old mythology; +so Painting, by giving a preponderance to the Soul, attained a new, +though not a higher step of Art. + +This Guido Reni strove after, and became the proper painter of the +Soul. Such seems to us to be the necessary interpretation of his whole +endeavor, often uncertain, and, in many of his works, losing itself in +the vague. + +This is shown, as, perhaps, in few of his other pictures, in the +masterpiece that is offered to the admiration of all in the great +collection of our king. + +In the figure of the heavenward-ascending Virgin, all harshness and +sternness are effaced, even to the last trace; and, indeed, does not +Painting itself seem in it to soar upward, transfigured on its own +pinions, as the liberated Psyche delivered from the severity of Form? + +Here nothing outward remains, with separate natural force; everything +expresses receptivity and still endurance, even the perishable flesh, +the character of which the Italian language designates by the term +_morbidezza_, altogether unlike that with which Raphael invests the +descending Queen of Heaven, as she appears to the adoring pope and a +saint. + +Though the remark be well-founded, that the original of Guido's female +heads is the Niobe of antiquity, yet the ground of this similarity is +surely no mere intentional imitation; perhaps a like aim led to like +means. + +As the Florentine Niobe is an extreme in Sculpture, and the +representation in it of the Soul, so this well-known picture is +an extreme in Painting, which here ventures to lay aside even the +requisite of shade and the obscure, and to work almost with pure +Light. + +Even though it might be permitted to Painting, from its peculiar +nature, to give a distinct preponderance to the Soul, yet theory and +instruction will do best constantly to aim at that original Centre, +whence alone Art may be produced ever anew; whereas, at the stage last +mentioned, it must necessarily stand still, or degenerate into cramped +mannerism. For even that higher passion is opposed to the idea of +having reached the acme of energy, whose image and reflex Art is +called upon to display. + +A right intelligence will ever enjoy seeing a creature worthily, and, +as far as possible, also individually, represented; yea, Deity itself +would look down with pleasure on a being that, gifted with a pure +soul, should stoutly assert the dignity of its nature outwardly also, +and by its sensually efficient existence. + +We have seen how the work of Art, springing up out of the depths of +Nature, begins with determinateness and limitation, unfolds its inward +plenitude and infinity, is finally transfigured in Grace, and at +last attains to Soul. But we can conceive only in detail what, in the +creative act of mature Art, is but one operation. No theory and no +rules can give this spiritual, creative power. It is the pure gift of +Nature, which here, for the second time, makes a close; for, having +fully actualized herself, she invests the creature with her creative +energy. But as, in the grand progress of Art, these different stages +appeared successively, until, at the highest, all joined in one; so +also, in particulars, sound culture can spring up only where it has +unfolded itself regularly from the germ and root to the blossom. + +The requirement that Art, like everything living, should commence from +the first rudiments, and, to renew its youth, constantly return +to them, may seem a hard doctrine to an age that has so often +been assured that it has only to take from works of Art already in +existence the most consummate Beauty, and thus, as at a step, to reach +the final goal. Have we not already the Excellent, the Perfect? How +then should we return to the rudimentary and unformed? + +Had the great founders of modern Art thought thus, we should never +have seen their miracles. Before them also stood the creations of the +ancients, round statues and works in relief, which they might have +transferred immediately to their canvas. But such an appropriation of +a Beauty not self-won, and therefore unintelligible, would not satisfy +an artistic instinct that aimed throughout at the fundamental, and +from which the Beautiful was again to create itself with free original +energy. They were not afraid, therefore, to appear simple, artless, +dry, beside those exalted ancients; nor to cherish Art for a long time +in the undistinguished bud, until the period of Grace had arrived. + +Whence comes it that we still look upon these works of the older +masters, from Giotto to the teacher of Raphael, with a sort of +reverence, indeed with a certain predilection, if not that the +faithfulness of their endeavor, and the grand earnestness of their +serene voluntary limitation, compel our respect and admiration. + +The same relation that they held to the ancients, the present +generation holds to them. Their time and ours are joined by no living +transmission, no link of continuous, organic growth; we must reproduce +Art in the way they did, but with energy of our own, in order to be +like them. + +Even that Indian-summer of Art, at the end of the sixteenth and the +beginning of the seventeenth centuries, could call forth only a few +new blossoms on the old stem, but no productive germs, still less +plant a new tree of Art. But to set aside the works of perfected +Art, and to seek out its scanty and simple beginnings, as some have +desired, would be a new and perhaps greater mistake; it would be no +real return to the fundamental; simplicity would be affectation, and +grow into hypocritical show. + +But what prospect does the present time offer for an Art springing +from a vigorous germ, and growing up from the root? For it is in a +great measure dependent on the character of its time; and who +would promise the approbation of the present time to such earnest +beginnings, when Art, on the one hand, scarcely obtains equal +consideration with other instruments of prodigal luxury, and, on the +other, artists and amateurs, with entire want of ability to grasp +Nature, praise and demand the Ideal? + +Art springs only from that powerful striving of the inmost powers of +the heart and the spirit, which we call Inspiration. Everything that +from difficult or small beginnings has grown up to great power and +height, owes its growth to Inspiration. Thus spring empires and +states, thus arts and sciences. But it is not the power of the +individual that accomplishes this, but the Spirit alone, that diffuses +itself over all. For Art especially is dependent on the tone of the +public mind, as the more delicate plants on atmosphere and weather; it +needs a general enthusiasm for Sublimity and Beauty, like that which, +in the time of the Medici, as a warm breath of spring, called forth at +once and together all those great spirits. + + * * * * * + +It is only when the public life is actuated by the same forces through +whose energy Art is elevated, that the latter can derive any advantage +from it; for Art cannot, without giving up the nobility of its nature, +aim at anything outward. + +Art and Science can move only on their own axes; the artist, like +every spiritual laborer, can follow only the law that God and Nature +have written in his heart. None can help him--he must help himself; +nor can he be outwardly rewarded, since anything that he should +produce for the sake of aught out of itself, would thereby become a +nullity; hence, too, no one can direct him, nor prescribe the path +he is to tread. Is he to be pitied if he have to contend against his +time, he is deserving of contempt if he truckle to it. But how +should it be even possible for him to do this? Without great general +enthusiasm there are only sects--no public opinion; not an established +taste, not the great ideas of a whole people, but the voices of a few +arbitrarily-appointed judges, determine as to merit; and Art, which +in its elevation is self-sufficing, courts favor, and serves where it +should rule. + +To different ages are given different inspirations. Can we expect none +for this age, since the new world now forming itself, as it exists in +part already outwardly, in part inwardly and in the hearts of men, can +no longer be measured by any standard of previous opinion, and since +everything, on the contrary, loudly demands higher standards and an +entire renovation? + +Should not the sense to which Nature and History have more livingly +unfolded themselves, restore to Art also its great arguments? The +attempt to draw sparks from the ashes of the Past, and fan them again +into universal flame, is a vain endeavor. Only a revolution in the +ideas themselves is able to raise Art from its exhaustion; only new +Knowledge, new Faith, can inspire it for the work by which it can +display, in a renewed life, a splendor like the past. + +An Art in all respects the same as that of foregoing centuries, will +never return; for Nature never repeats herself. Such a Raphael will +never be again, but another, who shall have reached in an equally +original manner the summit of Art. Only let the fundamental conditions +be fulfilled, and renewed Art will show, like that which preceded +it, in its first works, its aim and intent. In the production of the +distinctly characteristic, if it proceed from a fresh original energy, +Grace is already present, even though hidden, and in both the advent +of the Soul already determined. Works produced in this manner, even in +their rudimentary imperfection, are necessary and eternal. * * * + + + + +LATER GERMAN ROMANTICISM + +By George H. Danton, PH.D + +Professor of German, Butler College + + +The group of later Romanticists is distinguished from the earlier +pioneers by less emphasis on speculative philosophy, by greater +spontaneity, and by more creative ability. The later school was less +interested in questions primarily esthetic and was more democratic. +Both groups were enemies of the aristocratic Enlightenment of the +eighteenth century; but where the earlier group worked with the +Kantian understanding and with a supersensuous philosophy, the younger +men lived in the world and were of it; they used the people to carry +on their propaganda. Thus, though later Romanticism contains nearly +all the ideas of earlier Romanticism, it displays in addition also, +political, national, and social tendencies which were in the main +foreign to the earlier writers. + +There was in the later group a deeper sense of religion and a firmer +belief in the spiritual foundations of experience than is shown by +their predecessors, though all Romanticism tried to penetrate the +mysteries of life and all Romanticists were seers as well as +prophets. In the later school, too, there appears a development of the +nature-sense far beyond anything shown in the first group. Indeed, +the Schlegels may be said to have been without a sense for nature; in +Tieck there is a great discrepancy between the man, his beliefs, +and his practise, and Novalis' nature-feeling is not attached to +any specific place. But Brentano loves the Rhine, and Eichendorff's +landscape is genuinely Silesian. Caroline and Dorothea know nothing of +the mood which makes Bettina throw herself prone in the grass to watch +an insect crawl over her hand. + +A keener appreciation of natural beauty led to a study of natural +science; thence it was but a step to the "night-sides" of nature; +and spiritism, mesmerism, occultism, and abnormal psychology fill the +minds of such men as the Romantic philosopher Schubert, and of the +physicians Carus and Passavant. Justinus Kerner wrote of the Seeress +of Prevorst, and Clemens Brentano watched for years at the bedside +of a stigmatized nun. On the other hand, from nature comes a love for +home and country, and this love serves as a bridge to the patriotism +which was the vital force in the Wars of Liberation and which, by +well-marked gradations, destroyed the cosmopolitanism engendered by +the French Revolution. Art went hand in hand with nature; the +wild, weird landscapes of Caspar David Friedrich, fascinating and +specifically German, express the Romantic spirit fully as well as the +delicate, spiritual, and thoroughly sane fancies of Philip Otto Runge, +the artist of early Romanticism. + +As the earlier men centred in Jena, so the later Romanticists +flourished in Heidelberg, that city which Eichendorff called "itself +a magnificent Romanticism." The earlier group was largely North German +and brought with it clear perception and a certain power of analysis, +an ability to dissect and to reason. With the Heidelberg group the +South begins to play a larger part, though there were a number of +North Germans in it. The richer fancy, the longer literary tradition, +now add color to their productions. It is significant, too, that +though "castle Romanticism" does not die out, a new note is struck +with the celebration of the Rhine in song, story, and legend. The +river begins with Romantic tradition and in a Romantic _milieu_, but +rises to political significance as "Germany's stream and not Germany's +boundary." The southward tendency of the movement reached its climax +when its centre shifted to Munich, with a culture-loving king, an +Academy of Sciences and a new University. Munich was fortunately not +destined to become like Vienna, that other South German city, "a Capua +of the spirit." + +Though certain members of the later Romantic group were closely +associated with each other in a way that was unknown to the older set, +Arnim and Savigny having each married a sister of Brentano, there was +less real solidarity among them than in their forerunners. By no means +all the men treated within the confines of the present article had the +close personal association which, when combined with intellectual or +literary activity, goes by the rather loose name of a "school." The +first Romanticists were held together by a common effort to formulate +or to attain a speculative philosophy. In the second group, there was +a decentralizing, catholicizing tendency, and, above all, a greater +individual creative ability. It was not merely the chance difference +of external fortunes that kept them apart, though they never held +together after the death of Brentano's wife in 1806, but that each +projected his individuality into his literary work rather than into a +common polemic ideal. The path-finding and discovery had already been +done; in the quieter backwater it was possible to develop well-rounded +works of real esthetic value. + +Very significant of the differences between the schools is their +journalistic activity. The ideal of the first Romanticists was to work +without collaboration; but the very prospectus of Arnim's _Journal for +Hermits_ is signed by a company of editors. The early journals were +turned to the study of German literature through a renunciation of +the present; the later Germanic studies arose from a high idealism and +from a sincere desire to awaken the present to new national activity. +When, later in life, Görres remarked of these journals that their +collaborators felt as if they were accompanying the Holy Roman Empire +to its grave, he was thinking of the year in which the most important +of them flourished, 1808. In this, Germany's darkest period, Kleist's +Phoebus, so cordially hated by many, and Arnim's _Journal for Hermits_ +had their brief but influential career. + +Such a journal as the _Athenaeum_, with its over-emphasis on the +esthetic, with its fighting spirit, its excoriating, inexorable wit, +its constructive and destructive criticism, its complete and total +silence on Schiller, would have been an impossibility in the later +period. The feeling for and thinking in Fragments, as practised by +Friedrich Schlegel and Novalis, was foreign to the new school. They +had no illusions that such thinking would become the daily custom +of the people; they kept their eyes open to that which went on about +them, and though they no more dared than the earlier group to work +directly upon the political conditions of the day as did Görres later +(1814) in his _Rheinischer Merkur_, they attempted indirectly to +react on the broad mass by branching out into religion and other +folk-interests as the earlier school never cared to do. Perhaps this +is an excuse for the shallowness of some of the product, especially of +the fiction; at any rate, the attempt at dissemination was not without +its success. + +The external link connecting the two schools as well as the Romantic +groups in general and the object of their star-worship, Goethe, was +Clemens Maria Brentano (1778-1842), in many ways the most typical +Romantic figure of either school. Brentano's grandmother, Sophie La +Roche, had been the friend of Wieland; his mother, Maximiliane, +played a not unimportant rôle in the life of the young Goethe and +is immortalized in the latter part of _Werther_. Maximiliane married +Brentano, an Italian from the Como region, and Clemens was the third +child of this loveless union. Brentano's early life was not happy; he +was destined for a business career but was a failure in it, and then +studied at various universities but with no great application or +success. From 1797-1800 he was at Jena, where he succeeded in making +himself hated by the Schlegels in spite of his defense of them in +his satirical play, _Gustav Wasa_ (1800). This play, in the manner of +Tieck's _Puss in Boots_, attempts to ridicule Kotzebue. The method +is the same as Tieck's: there is the play within the play, the gagged +officer (to take the place of the critic Böttger), the puns, of which, +perhaps, the one on Lucinde _(Lux inde)_ is the best, and which, +as often in Brentano, go beyond and surpass Tieck. Romantic irony +flourishes: the whole world of the theatre, the author, the very +lights, the building, the working day and the musical instruments in +the orchestra are dramatized in turn. The dialogue of the latter far +more intimately suggests their quality than does the speech of +the flutes in Tieck, where their spirit is cerulean blue. _Wasa_, +unfortunately, runs off into dull allegory, and this work is not to be +compared with August von Schlegel's _Gate of Honor_ as a satire on the +same subject. + +Brentano's _Godwi_ (1801), the sub-title of which, "An Unmanageable +Novel by Maria," shows its character, is a far better production. It +has the strong, full-blooded, passionate love of life characteristic +of its author, "the many-souled" Brentano, whose Romantic irony +resulted from his being ashamed of his sentimentality, and whose +hatred of philistinism was caused by his fear of his own latent +tendency toward that point of view. The plot of _Godwi_ runs wild, but +the satire and the interspersed lyrics make it interesting reading. +Romantic irony can go no farther than in this book, in which the +author's own death-bed scene is portrayed and in which the preceding +parts of the work are referred to by page and line--"This is the pond +into which I fall on page so and so." + +If Brentano's _Rosary_ cycle (1809) is somewhat unpleasantly +superhuman, and if, at times, he mixes sex and religion like a mystic +of the Middle Ages or a Spaniard of the Counter Reformation, he rises +to wonderful lyric heights when he touches his own experiences, or +when he expresses the note of the people. His use of the supernatural, +of the subconscious mood, gives rise to such poems as _The Lore-Lay_, +the legend of which was actually invented by Brentano. Like all +Romanticists, Brentano was a poet of incomplete works, of moods +which abandoned him before the artistic perfection of his effort was +reached; but his suggestive touches, and, above all, his constant use +of the refrain in all phases and _genres_, especially to emphasize +and summarize his musical consciousness, are a striking proof of the +French adage, "Quand le coeur chante, c'est toujours un refrain." +Brentano surrenders himself passionately to his mood. His surrender +and his distorting irony, like Heine's, arise from his desire to +assimilate all of the outside world; it explains, in part, the +Romantic desire to mediate, to translate, to bridge the cleft between +oneself and the world. In part, too, it explains the desire for +musical imitation so apparent in both Tieck and Brentano. It is an +attempt to express in terms of one sense the ideas or apperceptions +of another. But where Tieck falls into meaningless jingle, Brentano +succeeds, not merely in suggesting but in producing the effect, as in +his _Merry Musicians_ (1803), or in bringing about its latent mood, +as in his _Spinner's Song_ or in his version of the old +folk-epithalamium, "Come out, come out, thou lovely, lovely bride." + +Brentano's prose tales vary in quality from the over-allegorized +latter part of _The Fairy Tale of the Rhine and the Miller Radlauf_ +(1816) to the simple and homely _Kasper and Annie_ (1817), with its +elemental clash of soldiers and citizens. Through many of the tales +there runs a note of satire and of symbolism, but the fancy is +exuberant and the interest well maintained. Brentano's discovery +of the Rhine as an object of poetry and veneration is completely +summarized in _Radlauf_, where the Rhine lyrics are often of wonderful +beauty and definiteness and the river becomes a benevolent _deus ex +machina_, who--significantly--in dreams, guides and aids the simple, +honest miller in his search for a bride. + +Later in life, Brentano returned to the Roman Church into which he +had been baptized as a child, and gradually withdrew from literary +activity. Long before his death in 1842, he had renounced his earlier +life as wicked and abhorrent, and had given himself over entirely to +the Church. But his career with its constant wanderings, its lack +of permanency of occupation, of family ties, and of a real home, +his inability to grow old, his inner unreality, his excessive +productivity-in short, all that is incomplete, over-stimulated, +destructive of self, make him the most typical figure of the later +Romantic group. + +Ludwig Achim von Arnim (1781-1831) is by no means so bizarre a figure. +Born in Berlin of a noble family, he inherited a peculiar +patriotism and his love of culture, and developed these without +the eccentricities which characterized his brother-in-law. The main +influences of his early years were Goethe and Jena, but, as a direct +inspiration, Tieck must also be mentioned. Arnim's early works lie +largely in the field of natural science, especially in physics. He had +little of Brentano's lyric gift; indeed, his poems, where not wooden, +are often merely reminiscent. They show, too, in an unusual degree, +the ability to adapt himself to another's mood and assimilate it--that +which the Germans call "Nachempfinden," a quality which stood him in +excellent stead in his work on _The Boy's Magic Horn_. + +The drama _Halle and Jerusalem_ (1810) is an amalgamation of the story +of Cardenio and Celinde used by Gryphius and Immermann, with the story +of the Wandering Jew. The first four acts take place in Halle where +Cardenio is a teacher and where he is living in incestuous relation +with Olympia. He is a Faust-nature and his father is Ahasuerus. +The fifth act is taken up with a pilgrimage to Jerusalem where the +romantic fates of the characters are decided. The play abounds in +contemporary satire and, as in all of Arnim's work, there is distinct +emphasis on action, the goal of human endeavor. + +Arnim's prose is better than his verse. Soon, in _The Guardians of +the Crown_ (1817; volume 2 unfinished and published in his literary +remains, 1854), he strikes an individual note. This novel is one +of the best products of German Romanticism. The Guardians are a +mysterious secret organization who guard the imperial crown in a fairy +castle and are favorable to the ancient house of Hohenstaufen but +inimical to the ruling Habsburgs. The basis is the newly awakening +ideal of German unity but Arnim fails to express this clearly, and +the concluding motif, that Germany's crown is to be spiritually won, +resolves the whole into a frosty allegory. The progress of the story +is, however, extremely interesting; the whole spacious and varied +scene of medieval life is there, and as Tieck and Wackenroder +discovered Nuremberg, and Brentano the Rhine, so Arnim may be said to +have shown in its full activity the Ghibelline city of Waiblingen. It +is, to be sure, a Romantic Waiblingen, and not the real city, as Arnim +himself was afterward forced to admit with some disappointment when he +actually saw it. But as Arnim portrays it, it rises to typical value +without losing any of its poetic individuality. It is the city of the +Hohenstaufens, the last stand of medievalism against the encroachment +of a new civilization. The echoes from Gotz von Berlichingen are at +once apparent to the reader. But Arnim's city of the sixteenth century +does not look backward only; the conflicts in it point forward also. +Its abbess is not the traditional pious, fat old lady, but a tall, +thin, practical and active woman. Its Faust is a figure of aggressive +naturalism, a charlatan and quack who practises blood-transfusion on +the hero and who lies drunk in a pig-sty--a scene which shows Arnim's +power of drastic contrast at its best. The hero, Berthold, does +not sit back and wait for the crown to come to him, but with money +mysteriously given him builds a cloth-mill on the site of his +ancestral palace and becomes the mayor of the city. How different a +picture from the hazy cities of Novalis' _Heinrich von Ofterdingen_! +It is a part of the new spirit in Romanticism to point the way for the +people of Germany to go forward--to leave mysticism and dreams, and to +grapple with the life around them. + +A similar impulse toward popularization actuated Arnim and Brentano +in their joint work, _The Boy's Magic Horn_ (1806-8). This is the +achievement upon which their greatest fame will always rest. It is +one of the best collections of folk-songs and popular ballads in any +language, and has been of the greatest influence upon Germany. There +was no desire on the part of the editors to write a learned treatise; +they simply wished to gather together and record the folk-songs of the +Fatherland before they were lost forever. In Arnim's own words: "The +richness of this our national song cannot fail to attract universal +attention; it will surprise many; it will supplement many an effort of +our own times, or will render such effort needless. We expect a great +deal from the joyous happy life in these songs--a manifold, full tone +in poetry, an echo of very definite ideas, or an impulse to arouse +many a half-forgotten youthful memory. These poems will not only be +read, they will be remembered and sung. They embrace in their content, +perhaps the greatest portion of German poetry. They will thus set free +many an indefinite longing--a something which is not satisfied by much +re-reading." + +Goethe greeted the new undertaking with enthusiasm and urged the +editors to "keep their poetic archives clean, strict, and in good +order." He, too, urged that "this book should be in every house where +joyful humans dwell, by the window, under the mirror, or where song +book and cook book lie. There it should remain, ready to be opened, +and there something should be found for every varying mood." While +this fate has not been granted the work, it has grown deservedly +popular. Philological criticism has caviled at the free hand which +Arnim, especially, used in remolding the songs, but the editors are +freed of any possible charge of intellectual dishonesty toward reader +and source in that their object was to present artistic unities and +not material for further study and dissection. + +A folk-song is a song which has become a part of the lyric +consciousness of the people; often the singers do not know that +what they are singing has a literary origin--they have thoroughly +assimilated it. In the best sense of the term, the songs of _The Boy's +Magic Horn_ are folk-songs. They are both narrative and dramatic as +well as pure lyric in form, and are simple, powerful, and direct in +expression. They treat all phases of German life of the past, from a +crude version of the _Lay of Hildebrant_ to the riddles, lullabies, +and counting-out rhymes of children. Pictures of the moral and social +life of peasant Germany are followed by poems of nature and of the +supernatural. Tragedies vary with humorous skits, extravagant and +mocking, and the collection is enlivened with many flyting poems +about tailors--a favorite butt of the peasant past. Ballads of popular +origin and ballads with an added sentimental touch, such as the famous +Strassburg poem with the added Alpine horn motif, are found here. +Delicate, haunting rhymes alternate with crude assonances, and +occasionally one meets with banalities; but, as a whole, the +collection is of surprising merit. It is a product of the Romantic +return to the past, but is filled with a poetic outlook toward the +future. Of the work as a whole Heine says, "I cannot praise the book +enough. It contains the most graceful flowers of the German spirit, +and he who wishes to know the German people at their best, let him +read these folk-songs. * * * In these songs one feels the heart-beat +of the German folk. It is a revelation of all melancholy cheerfulness, +all their foolish reason. Here German anger beats its drum, here is +the pipe of German scorn, the kiss of German love." + +The part which the Romantic mood played in the Wars of Liberation is +definite and well-recognized. The soldier, Gneisenau, felt that the +politics of the future lay in the poetry of the day, and Adam Muller +proudly proclaimed poetry to be a war-power: The Romantic longing +for the distance, for love, when directed to the remote past of +the Fatherland, not only yielded a new life in art and religion but +induced a tremendous patriotism as well. The cosmopolitan temper which +caused Lessing to say that love of country was an unknown feeling to +him, gave way before an intenser nationalism. The earlier Romanticists +began it; in the later group it took more specific form and became +a propaganda. It was also precipitated in verse and prose. The spark +came from Fichte, who was gradually led to see in the destiny of +the German people a large cultural fact. Fichte, like a true German, +emphasized education as the means of progress: Arnim grasped the +problem from another side; he felt himself autochthonous, and +consciously set out to make his connection with the soil react on +those sprung from the soil. In him, as well as in Fichte, dawns the +ideal of the German people as an entity, as a nation. + +There are three poets whose main value lies in the appeal they made to +the belligerent spirit of the day. They represent three phases of the +German character. Ernst Moritz Arndt (1769-1860), the eldest of the +group, is the pamphleteer, the politician, and the teacher, as well +as the poet. He is the hard-headed, earnest intellectual whose lyric +poetry, whatever its esthetic weaknesses, arouses to action by its +deadly insistence on an idea, on hatred of the French, on salvation by +the sword. Arndt is all virility and fire. + +The life of Theodor Körner (1791-1813), the son of Schiller's intimate +friend, shows that mixture of idealism and practicality for which the +Germans are becoming more and more noted. Körner was aroused from his +poetic diletantism by the alarms of war. He enlisted in the famous +Lützow corps and died a soldier's death, thus becoming the symbol of +all that was ideal for the patriotic youth of his day, the hero and +the poet, the man of "Lyre and Sword." His patriotic poems, often +composed on the very field of battle, were sung by the soldiers to the +roll of cannon and the beat of drum. The trace of Schiller's rhetoric +in Körner's poems adds to their effectiveness, spurring to action and +firing young minds to patriotic emulation of high ideals. Like Arndt's +lyrics, Körner's poems are actual documents in the struggle for +liberty-verses which affected men. + +The German mystic trait, the touch of the religious, marks the poetry +of Max Schenkendorf (1783-1817). His was a quieter nature, which +loved the Fatherland, its language, its romantic scenes and past. +Characteristic also is his veneration for Queen Luise, whose beauty, +tenderness, and fortitude had endeared her to the people as well as to +the poets. + +Though every Romantic poet took some stand on the questions of +the day, the most distinctly lyric of them, Joseph von Eichendorff +(1788-1857), was not of a military temperament. Even he, however, +followed the King of Prussia's call to arms but, significantly enough +for "the last Knight of Romanticism," as he was called, arrived a day +too late on the field of Waterloo. The somewhat fanciful title by no +means indicates a jouster at windmills; it implies, rather, that +in Eichendorff there were gathered for the last time with all their +poetic brilliancy, the declining rays of the Romantic movement. After +him, the enthusiasm is in its decline or changes to forms which lie +outside the confines of the Romantic spirit. + +Eichendorff is a thorough _pleinairiste_, filled with the atmosphere +of his native Silesia and, in some measure, hardly intelligible apart +from its landscape. His birth-place, the castle of Lubowitz, near +Ratibor, rising high on a hill in full sight of the Oder, is the +ultimate background of all his nature-poetry. Here must be localized +the ever-recurring hill and valley, wood, nightingale, and castle. +Here, too, he heard the rustling of the forest leaves and the +splashing of the fountain; here he was grounded in the strong +and pious, if somewhat narrow, Catholicism of his race. It was a +Catholicism, however, which was genuinely Romantic in that it sought +comfort in sorrow directly from nature, a tendency which gives rise +to some of the best and most heartfelt religious poetry in German +literature. A fine example of this is to be found in Eichendorff's +beautiful poems on the death of his child. It is interesting to see +how, in this spiritual poetry, there is a constant melting of nature +into religion, a dissolving of the Romantic atmosphere, of that +youthful fervor which Eichendorff never really outgrew but continued +to draw upon for inspiration for all his later work, into a broad, +deep, manly piety. + +Eichendorff's poetry began with Tieckian notes; it was influenced by +Brentano, and, unfortunately, was colored by the productions of Count +Otto von Löben (1786-1825), a pseudo-Romanticist of less than +mediocre ability. But Eichendorff's individuality, with its constant +accentuation of the acoustic, soon made itself felt and brought into +German poetry what Tieck had tried for and failed in--an effect of +perfect musical synthesis. The melody of the verse receives a peculiar +lilt by frequent changes in metre between stanzas or in the midst of +the stanza, and is thus saved from monotony. Were its metrical harmony +tiring in any way, it could not have been set to music with such +surprising success. As it is, Eichendorff's poetry has become a +permanent part of the musical life of the nation. _The Broken +Ring_ has passed into a folk-song, and _"O valleys wide!"_ with +Mendelssohn's music is a popular choral of deep religious import. + +Yet Eichendorff does not attract either by the variety of his themes +or of his rhymes. It is his very repetitions which so endear him +to the popular heart. His is not passionate poetry, nor does it +subjectively portray the soul-life of its author. In fact, it is saved +from monotony of content at times only by its extreme honesty and +its lovable simplicity. There is none of Goethe's power of suggesting +landscape in a few touches, none of Goethe's logic of description, +none of Goethe's clear inner objectivity, but a certain haze lies over +Eichendorff's landscapes--the haze of a lyric Corot; at the same time, +this landscape has the power of suggestion to the German mind. Paul +Heyse, himself a poet, makes one of his characters say, "I have always +carried Eichendorff Is book of songs with me on my travels. Whenever a +feeling of strangeness comes over me in the variegated days, or I feel +a longing for home, I turn its leaves and am at home again. None of +our poets has the same magic reminiscence of home which captures our +hearts with such touching monotony, with so few pictures and notes. +* * * He is always new, as the voices of Nature itself, and never +oppresses, but rather lulls one to sweet dreams as if a mother were +singing her child to sleep." + +The one novel of Eichendorff which has lived, _From the Life of +a Good-for-nothing_ (1826), is a last Romantic shoot of Friedrich +Schlegel's doctrine of divine laziness--a delightful story, abounding +in those elements which perennially endear Romanticism to the young +heart, for it is full of nature and love and fortunate happenings. +What could be more charming than the spirit in which the hero throws +away the vegetables in his garden and puts in flowers? What more naïve +than his spyings, his fiddlings? The strength of the story lies in the +fact that while its head is in the clouds, its feet are on the ground. +There is no sentimentalizing, no breaking down of class distinctions; +the good-for-nothing marries his lady-love, but she is of his own +rank. The pseudo-Romanticism of modern novels is avoided; the +hero neither wins a kingdom nor is he the long-lost heir of some +potentate--he remains just what he was, a lovable good-for-nothing. +The weather-eye on probability is what in later times has helped the +Romanticists to slip so easily into Realism--and to reactionary views. + +Of all the great mass of material left by Friedrich de la Motte Fouqué +(1777-1843), only a lyric or two and the fairy tale _Undine_ have any +value for the present day. Fouqué represents the talent which develops +in the glare of the world, is popular for a decade, but soon withers +when the sun is set. His relations to Romanticism are largely +external; he frequented the salons of Rachel Levin and Henrietta Herz +in Berlin, was aided by August von Schlegel, and was praised by +Jean Paul; but in his heart he was not inspired by any of the deeper +longings that characterize the true Romantic spirit. Even though he is +to be credited with the first modern dramatization of the Nibelungen +story, _The Hero of the North_ (1810), and though he took subjects +from the Germanic past and from the chivalric days, he brought no new +life to his rehabilitations. Fouqué was too productive, too facile, +too external, too indifferent to psychological motivation to be real. +He diluted Romanticism and sentimentalized it. In him patriotism +becomes chauvinism; love, philandering; and his age of chivalry, a +thinly veiled and sentimental picture of his own times. The strength +and the indigenousness of Arnim are gone, and that power to throw a +Romantic glamor over life which Tieck and Hoffmann had, is lacking. + +Only in his charming fairy-tale, _Undine_ (1811), does Fouqué rise +above his _milieu. Undine_, the source of which, according to Fouqué +himself, is to be found in a work of Paracelsus on supernatural +beings, remains one of the best creations of the Romantic school and, +like Eichendorff's novel, has become international, not only in +its original form but in the opera by Lortzing (first performance, +Hamburg, 1845). The value of the story lies in the author's power +to make the reader believe in Undine, the water sprite, and in +the presentation of a new nature-mythology. All Romanticists have +consciously or unconsciously attempted to satisfy Friedrich Schlegel's +demand for anew mythology: Fouqué's earth, air, and water spirits +people the elements with graceful forms from the world of nature; the +nymph Undine in the form of a flowing stream embraces even in death +the grave of her lover. + +Ludwig Uhland (1787-1862) was not fundamentally a Romantic +personality. He is called "the classicist of Romanticism," and +with justice. The term shows that he is felt to have something of +completion, of inner perfection, of harmony of form and content which +was lacking in the truer Romanticists. Uhland was without their early +cosmopolitanism. Political life as manifested in him was, first of +all, Suabian--for Uhland was a Suabian and most intimately associated +with that section of Germany. He was actively and practically +interested in the politics of his native land as a member of its +legislative bodies and as delegate to the national parliament at +Frankfurt in 1848. Uhland had a conservative love for the "good old +Suabian law." He felt the doubtful position of the South German states +in the struggle against Napoleon, and it was only when Würtemberg took +its stand with the allies in the final conflict that the embarrassment +of his position was relieved, and Uhland's patriotic verse assumed its +full tone. But his poetry never became a spur to national achievement +like the verse of Arndt, that other German poet-professor. As a member +of the national parliament, Uhland was opposed to the exclusion +of Austria from the hegemony, and to the two-chamber system of +legislation. But Uhland's conservatism is unalterably honest without +any reactionary traits; he resigned his professorship rather than be +hindered in his political activities, and refused, with the peasant's +dourness, all the orders and distinctions that were offered him. + +Indeed, there is something of the peasant nature in all of Uhland's +verse. Sturdy reserve characterizes it--that reserve which forbids the +peasant to show his feelings under the stress of the greatest emotion. +Uhland does not carry his feelings to market; like Schiller, he is +not a love poet. There is no display, no self-analysis, no +self-exaltation, no amalgamation of self with nature. Uhland as a poet +is not interested in his own psychology, but in the impinging world +and in the tender past. When Goethe said that Uhland was primarily +a balladist, he was right, for the ballad presupposes just +that permeation of the object by the emotion that satisfies the +unquestionable lyric gift possessed by Uhland, without in any way +destroying the essentially narrative objectivity of his style. + +Uhland's greatest fame rests, then, on his ballads. The difference +between these and those of Goethe and Schiller is not merely in +the so-called "castle-Romanticism" of Uhland, not in a lingering +sentimentality in some of the poorer ones, but in Uhland's ability at +will to catch the folk-tone. Sometimes this folk-tone is a question +of certain technical tricks, such as the abrupt shift of scene, +repetition, varying series of scenes or words, archaized language; but +it is just as often in the mood which Uhland throws over the whole. He +thus can catch the inner form and essential mood of the popular ballad +in a way that not even Goethe does in his _Erlking_. Uhland's ballads +and romances vary greatly in quality; none, perhaps, has the grandiose +dramatic and ethical note of Schiller's _The Cranes of Ibycus_ +and none the power of revealing the hidden forces of nature in +anthropomorphic and demoniac form as Goethe does in his _Erlking_ and +_The Fisher_. But Uhland's poems are more varied in treatment, even +though he cannot be said to have brought any new forms and themes into +German verse. There is much talk of poets and poetry in his verse and +much of the tender melancholy of parting lovers, of separation and +death. There are also some very healthy bacchic notes. Often the +ballads are a mere presentation of a scene, with neither plot nor +moral; once in a while, too, Uhland shows a humorous touch. But +various as are his themes and treatments, the treatment is always +nicely adapted to the theme. + +It is difficult to imagine a better suiting of form and content than +in _The Singer's Curse_. The management of the vowel sequences is +truly wonderful and the rhymes carry the emotional words with a fine +virtuosity. _The Luck of Edenhall_, a variation of a Scottish theme +and also of the Biblical "_Mene tekel_," displays without sermonizing +the greatest ethical vigor. It has far more dramatic energy than +either Byron's or Heine's "Belshazzar" poems, with fully as much +dismal foreboding. _Taillefer_, which has been called "the sparkling +queen" of Uhland's ballads, has fresh vigor but lacks the power +of handling the moral forces of the universe with as much dramatic +vividness. It has a naïve joy of life not elsewhere found in Uhland's +ballads. + +Uhland was the greatest poet of the "Suabian School," a group of young +men who objected to being denominated a school. Among them was +William Hauff (1802-27), who is known for several lyrics, a number +of excellent short stories, and a historical novel, _Lichtenstein_ +(1826), in the manner of Scott. His _Trooper's Song_ is a variation +of an old theme and is of great metrical interest in that here, as +in Uhland, one may observe how the subtle handling of rhythm, the +lengthening or shortening of a line, or the shift of stress, brings +with it a corresponding shift of emotion. _Lichtenstein_ is the story +of the struggle of Ulrich of Würtemberg against the Suabian League and +gives us a Romantic picture of the Duke which is not justified by the +facts. It was, however, an attempt to vitalize history and owes its +origin to the Romantic longing for fatherland. Its immediate impulse +among Scott's novels was _Quentin Durward_ and, like _Quentin +Durward_, it has a double plot--the sentimental young lovers and the +romantic ruler. It also shows all the pageantry of Romanticism and the +naïve technique of the beginning of an art-form in the early stages of +a new literary movement. + +Friedrich Rückert (1788-1866) was prevented from taking part in the +Wars of Liberation by poor health, but added his _Sonnets in Harness_ +to the poetry of the period. These sonnets had no such stirring effect +as the poems of Körner, not only because of their literary form, but +because, in spite of their unquestioned belligerency, they had not the +tone of religious conviction against the enemy which characterized +the verses of Arndt and the rest. Other poems, like _Körner's Spirit_, +show how deeply Rückert felt himself in sympathy with his times; his +reward has been to have added a very large number of poems to the +every-day repertory of Germany. His _Barbarossa_ is found in almost +every reading book. + +The cycle _Love's Spring_ is an imperishable monument to his love for +Louisa Wiethaus. But too many of the poems are dedicated to her and +too many inconsequential moods relating to her are recorded. In spite +of this, Rückert has resolved the discord between every-day life and +poetry with the simplest poetic apparatus. Rückert has also enriched +the German language with a mass of gnomic poetry, to the writing of +which he was led by his Oriental studies. This gnomic poetry (_The +Wisdom of the Brahman_) has been aptly said to recall at times the +ripeness of the mature Goethe and at other times--Polonius. Rückert +was one of the first to introduce the Orient and its verse-forms +into German literature. Here the influence of Friedrich Schlegel +is unmistakable. He was also a master in the reproduction of the +complicated metres of the East and South. Though many of these +verse-forms have refused to become indigenous in Germany, a large +number of new words invented by Rückert have had poetical vogue, and +even where the new formations were too bold or too _recherché_, they +accustomed German ears to a new idea-presentation through sound. +Rückert, like the average Romanticist, lacked moderation in his +production, and was utterly without critical faculty in respect to +his own verse. Much that he has written has perished, but some of his +work--both original and translation--is a permanent part of the best +of German lyric verse. + +More individual than Rückert is Adalbert von Chamisso (1781-1838). +Though he was born in the Champagne in France, and was therefore a +fellow-countryman of Joinville and La Fontaine, he became a German +by education and preference, and his name is inseparably linked with +German scholarship and letters. It is remarkable that Chamisso began +to write German only after 1801 and is reported never to have spoken +it perfectly; yet his verse ranks with the best products of Germany in +fluency and in form. Much of it, especially that with woman's love as +its theme, is extremely German in thought and feeling, though perhaps +French in its keenness of analysis. So German is Chamisso felt to be +that at his best he is ranked with Goethe and Heine. + +When the boy Chamisso was nine years old, the family was driven from +France but was later allowed to return, though Adalbert never went +back permanently. Thus it was that during the years 1806-13, the young +expatriate led a life of the greatest mental torment; France no longer +meant anything to him, and in Germany he felt himself a stranger and +an outcast. Always awkward personally, and of a nervous temperament, +he found it difficult to adjust himself to surrounding conditions. +His scholarly zeal, however, and his ability to sit for hours in close +study, show how completely his mentality was adjustable to the German +manner. In Berlin he was accepted by the younger Romantic group and +was a member of the famous North Star Club with Arnim and his set. In +1815-18 he made a trip around the world, and in later years devoted +himself especially to the study of botany. + +Only the poetry of Chamisso's later period is of supreme consequence. +As a man in the fifties, he wrote some of his most beautiful verse. +He was a naïve poet, but a poet of many moods. His love poetry is the +poetry of longing, and ranks with that of Brentano in its ability to +suggest states of feeling. Among his best poems are his verse-tales, +such as _The Women of Weinsberg_, where his narrative genius ranks +with that of his fellow-countryman, La Fontaine. Especially good are +his poems in terzines. These mark the real introduction of this metre +into Germany. The best of these, _Salas y Gomez_, has the additional +advantage of real experience, for the material observation at the +basis of it is derived from his tour of circumnavigation. His poems in +this metre are often genre poems, pure prose in part, but frequently +of a drastic humor that ranks with that of the best of the old French +fabliaux. His realism is, however, never common, and, in such poems as +_The Old Washerwoman_, to quote Goethe's _Tasso_, "he often ennobles +what seems vulgar to us." + +Chamisso is Romantic in his interest in translations, in early +reminiscences of Uhland's "castle-Romanticism," and in his poetry of +indefinite longing, but his admiration for Napoleon and his tendency +toward realism point the way which all Romanticism naturally took--the +way leading through Heine to Young Germany on the one hand and through +Tieck's novelettes to realistic prose on the other. + +As a matter of fact, the work for which Chamisso is best known, a +work which has become international in popularity, _Peter Schlemihl_ +(1813), is an early bit of such realistic prose. The tale of the +man who sells his shadow to the devil for the sake of the sack of +Fortunatus has become in Chamisso's hands a genuine folk-fairy-tale +in key-note and style. At the same time it is thoroughly Romantic +in subject-matter and treatment. The word Schlemihl is a Hebrew word +variously interpreted as "Lover of God," or as "awkward fellow." If +it mean the former, Schlemihl then becomes a Theophilus, that medieval +Faust who also made a compact with the devil; if the latter, one who +breaks his finger when sticking it into a custard pie; then Schlemihl +is Chamisso himself, "that dean of Schlemihls," feeling himself at a +loss in any environment. He may be the man without a country, he may +be the man who draws attention to himself by selling what seems of +little value to him, but which afterward proves indispensable for the +right conduct of life. The story in this way brings forward a bit +of popular ethics, or, rather, it examines an ethical note from the +popular point of view. Like Hoffmann, Chamisso takes his reader into +the midst of current life, but, unlike Hoffmann, his moods are not +the dissolving views which leave the reader in doubt as to whether +the whole is a phantasmagoria and a hallucination. _Schlemihl_ is +genuinely and consistently realistic. It is a story in the first +person and has a rigidly logical arrangement of episodes leading up to +its climax. It does not make mood--it has mood. + +The brothers Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm are the products of Romantic +scholarship; they represent the highest type of scholarly attainment +and of scholarly personality. They are always thought of together, for +they shared all possessions alike and were not drawn apart by the fact +that William married and Jacob remained a bachelor. Their fidelity to +each other is touching, and no more lovable story is told than that +of Jacob's breaking down in a lecture and crying, "My brother is so +sick!" + +Jacob (1785-1863) was the philologist, the inductive gatherer of +scientific material, the close logical deducer of facts. He "presented +Germany with its mythology, with its history of legal antiquities, +with its grammar and its history of language." He is the author of +Grimm's law of consonant permutation which laid the foundations of +modern philological science and is the founder of philological science +in general. + +Wilhelm (1786-1859), no less exact a scientist, was more a Romantic +nature, with a greater power of synthesis under poetic stress. The +two brothers began their collecting activities under the influence +of Arnim, and their work with folk-tales in prose corresponds to _The +Boy's Magic Horn_ in verse. It was Wilhelm who gave Grimms' _Fairy +Tales_ their artistic form. He remolded, joined, separated--in +fact, wrought the crude materials into such shape that this work has +penetrated into every land and has become a household word for young +and old. The various early editions show the progress in the method +of Wilhelm. The first edition (1812) reproduces more exactly what the +brothers heard; the later ones show that Wilhelm consciously attempted +to give artistic form to the tales. That his method was justified +the history of the stories proves; they are not only material for +ethnological study, but are dear to all hearts. The stories have the +genuine folk-tone; they are true products of the folk-imagination, +with all the logic of that imagination. All phases of life are touched +and the interest never flags. The spirit of nature has been kept. + +The Romanticists were not successful in the drama. Kleist, the +greatest dramatist of the period, was not primarily a Romantic +poet. The Schlegels wrote frosty plays and Tieck attempted dramatic +production. It was left for the most bizarre of the Romantic group to +write the play of greatest power in it and to set a dramatic fashion +which for more than a decade carried all before it. + +Zacharias Werner (1768-1823), after a life of wild sensual excesses, +finally found refuge in the Roman Church and as a popular and +sensational preacher aroused Vienna with drastic sermons and clownish +antics. Of his various plays, _The Sons of the Valley_ (1803) and the +_Cross on the Baltic_ (1806) deserve mention for their religious +and mystic subject-matter, for which Werner himself has attempted an +explanation, though without adding to their understanding. _Martin +Luther, or the Consecration of Power_ (1807) is a pageant play of +great interest. Its recantation, _The Power of Weakness_, was written +after Werner's conversion. More important than these is his so-called +"fate tragedy," _The 24th of February_ (1810 per formed in Weimar; +published 1815). This day was a day of terror to Werner, for on it +he lost in the same year his mother and his most intimate friend. He +therefore in the play invests the day with a fatal significance, and +on it a malignant fate has especial power over the fortunes of the +persons of the drama; there is also a fatal requisite and a general +atmosphere of fatalism. The play started a whole series; some of +these were crude and weak imitations, others, like Grillparzer's _The +Ancestress_, were of great power. These plays were conditioned by +something in the air. Perhaps Napoleon, the man of fate, ruling the +minds and destinies of a whole continent, had something to do with the +philosophical background. Werner caught the fatalistic spirit, gave it +concise and logical form, and succeeded in producing a play which has +both atmosphere and logic of development. In all of these plays, in so +far as they are good, the effect is produced by the recognition +scenes which hold the reader rapt to the end. But the weak and vulgar +imitations of the category outnumbered the powerful plays in the +_genre_, and the well-merited death-blow was given them by Platen's +_The Fateful Fork_ (1826). + +E.T.A. Hoffmann (1776-1822) was a thoroughly Romantic person. Like +his fellow-Königsberger, Werner, he went through a period of wildest +dissipation, and all his life was easily influenced by alcohol. He was +a painter, a writer, and a musician. His ability in the pictorial arts +was mainly in caricature and his career as a composer is typically +Romantic; though he never but once completed a composition, that he +started, he was thoroughly at home in the theory of the art. Like all +Romanticists, Hoffmann was interested in and tried all phases of life +and refused to recognize the boundaries between the various parts +of existence, between the arts, and between reality and unreality. +Hoffmann, with all his North German power of reasoning and his zeal +and conscientiousness in public office, was emphatically _that_ +Romanticist associated with the night-sides of literature and life. +There is something uncanny both in the man and his writings. His +power of putting the scene of his most unreal stories in the midst of +well-known places, his ability to shift the reader from the real +to the unreal and _vice versa_, make some of his stories seem like +phantasmagorias. + +In all of Hoffmann's stories there is some unpleasant, bizarre +character; this is the author's satire on his own strange personality. +There is none of Poe's objectivity in Hoffmann, but he uses his +subjectivity in a peculiarly Romantic fashion. It is his idea to raise +the reader above the every-day point of view, to flee from this to +a magic world where the unusual shall take the place of the real and +where wonder shall rule. So there are in Hoffmann's stories a series +of characters who are really doubles. To the uninitiated they seem +every-day creatures; to those who know, they are fairies or beings +from the supernatural world. Such characters are found at their best +in _The Golden Pot_. + +Hoffmann has influenced both French and English literatures more than +any other Romantic poet. Hawthorne and Poe read him, and he was felt +by the French to be one of the first Germans whom they understood. It +was not merely that his clear reason appealed to the French, but that +they saw in him one endowed as with a sixth sense. He has a fineness +of observation, especially for the ridiculous sides of humanity, +together with a tenderness of spirit, that was new in German +literature as such men as Sainte-Beuve and Gautier saw it. The soul +at war with itself, uncovering its most secret thoughts, the _"malheur +d'être poète,"_ coupled with wit, taste, gaiety, and the comedy +spirit--all these the French found in Hoffmann as in no other German. +Poe was also influenced by Hoffmann, but Poe's whole world is the +supernatural, and where Hoffmann slips with fantastic but logical +changes from the real to the unreal, Poe's metempsychosis is the real +in his world and he has a deeper insight into the world of terror. The +difference between Hawthorne and Hoffmann is even more striking, for +in the American the supernatural is the embodiment of the Puritan +New England conscience. In Hoffmann there is no such elevation of the +moral world to the rank of an atmosphere. + +In Hoffmann there is no out-of-doors, no lyric love; some of his +characters are frankly insane. The musical takes on a supreme +significance among the sensations, and music seemed the only art which +was able to draw the soul of the man from his earth-bound habitation. +Only in music did Hoffmann find the ability to make the Romantic +escape from the homelessness of this existence to the all-embracing +world of the unreal. But too often in his works does the unreal fail +to satisfy the reader. There is an effort felt, an effect sought for, +and, while the amalgamation of the two worlds is perfect, the world +to which Hoffmann is able to take us proves to be without the cogency +which our imaginations expect. Here Hoffmann fails. His world of the +imagination cannot always be taken seriously. + +Count August von Platen-Hallermund (1796-1835) is characterized by +the eternal Romantic homelessness; at every turn of his career this +impresses one. Of ancient noble Franconian stock, he felt himself a +foreigner in Bavaria which had acquired Franconia in the Napoleonic +period. In his early life in the military academy at Munich he was +never thoroughly at home, for his was not a military spirit and he was +unable to follow his literary tastes. When finally he was enabled to +study at Würzburg and Erlangen, even the friendship of Schelling could +not compensate for the late beginning of a university career which was +filled with the study of modern European and Oriental languages but +which had the bitterest personal disappointments. Even in Italy, the +land of every German poet's dreams, Platen never felt himself at +home, and the pictures of him from his Italian life are of a tragic, +lonesome figure. The discord between body and soul, that homelessness +in one's own physical body which characterized Hoffmann and made him +seem diabolical to so many, is also to be noted in Platen. Carried +over to the moral world, it accounts for his ardent cultivation of +friendship rather than love, and frees him from the bitter accusations +of Heine, whose attack in _The Baths of Lucca_ is one of the most +scurrilous and venomous pasquils in all literary history. Finally, in +the esthetic world, Platen seems largely un-German. His esthetics were +of the Classical and Renaissance times; in an age of the breaking +down of conventions and of literary revolutions, Platen held himself +rigidly aristocratic; he clung to a canon of beauty in an age which +was giving birth to realism. + +Platen's poetry falls into two periods--the early German tentative +period and the later or foreign period, the poems of which were mostly +written in Italy and in imitation of, or adapted from, foreign metres. +Platen is always represented as a master of form, and, since +Jacob Grimm's characterization of him, has been accused of "marble +coldness." That Platen handled difficult metres with virtuosity is not +to be laid against him; it is to the advantage of German verse that +such poems as his _ghasels_ made indigenous, in part, the feeling for +mere beauty in verse. German poets have too often gone the road of +mere formlessness. Platen cultivated style, polished and revised his +lines with as great care as did his arch-enemy Heine, and it is only +a confession of lack of ear to refuse him the name of poet. No one who +reads his Polish Songs can help feeling that they are the products of +fire and inspiration. + +It must be confessed, however, that there is in Platen a remarkable +lack of inner experience. He went through life without ever having +been shaken to the depths of his nature and was, unfortunately, not of +so Olympian a calmness that, like Goethe, he could present the world +in plastic repose and sublimity. With all his refinement and fervor he +has left but few poems of lasting interest, and of these _The Grave in +the Busento_ is perhaps the best. + +[Illustration: THE MAGIC HORN] + + + + +_LUDWIG ACHIM VON ARNIM AND CLEMENS BRENTANO_ + + * * * * * + + THE BOY'S MAGIC HORN[7] (1806) + + WERE I A LITTLE BIRD + + + Were I a little bird, + And had two little wings, + I'd fly to thee; + But I must stay, because + That cannot be. + + Though I be far from thee, + In sleep I dwell with thee, + Thy voice I hear. + But when I wake again, + Then all is drear. + + Each nightly hour my heart + With thoughts of thee will start + When I'm alone; + For thou 'st a thousand times + Pledged me thine own. + + * * * * * + + THE MOUNTAINEER + + + Oh, would I were a falcon wild, + I should spread my wings and soar; + Then I should come a-swooping down + By a wealthy burgher's door. + + In his house there dwells a maiden, + She is called fair Magdalene, + And a fairer brown-eyed damsel + All my days I have not seen. + + On a Monday morning early, + Monday morning, they relate, + Magdalene was seen a-walking + Through the city's northern gate. + + Then the maidens said: "Thy pardon-- + Magdalene, where wouldst thou go?" + "Oh, into my father's garden, + Where I went the night, you know." + + And when she to the garden came, + And straight into the garden ran, + There lay beneath the linden-tree + Asleep, a young and comely man. + + "Wake up, young man, be stirring, + Oh rise, for time is dear, + I hear the keys a-rattling, + And mother will be here." + + "Hearst thou her keys a-rattling, + And thy mother must be nigh, + Then o'er the heath this minute + Oh come with me, and fly!" + + And as they wandered o'er the heath, + There for these twain was spread, + A shady linden-tree beneath, + A silken bridal-bed. + + And three half hours together, + They lay upon the bed. + "Turn round, turn round, brown maiden; + Give me thy lips so red!" + + "Thou sayst so much of turning round, + But naught of wedded troth, + I fear me I have slept away + My faith and honor both." + + "And fearest thou, thou hast slept away + Thy faith and honor too, + I say I'll wed thee yet, my dear, + So thou shalt never rue." + + Who was it sang this little lay, + And sang it o'er with cheer? + On St. Annenberg by the town, + It was the mountaineer. + + He sang it there right gaily, + Drank mead and cool red wine, + Beside him sat and listened + Three dainty damsels fine. + + As many as sand-grains in the sea, + As many as stars in heaven be, + As many as beasts that dwell in fields, + As many as pence which money yields, + As much as blood in veins will flow, + As much as heat in fire will glow, + As much as leaves in woods are seen + And little grasses in the green, + As many as thorns that prick on hedges, + As grains of wheat that harvest pledges, + As much as clover in meadows fair, + As dust a-flying in the air, + As many as fish in streams are found, + And shells upon the ocean's ground, + And drops that in the sea must go, + As many as flakes that shine in snow-- + As much, as manifold as life abounds both far and nigh, + So much, so many times, for e'er, oh thank the Lord on high! + +[Illustration: LUDWIG ACHIM VON ARNIM Ströhling] + +[Illustration: CLEMENS BRENTANO E. Linder] + + * * * * * + + THE SWISS DESERTER + + + At Strassburg in the fort + All woe began for me + The Alpine bugle's call enticed me o'er, + I had to swim to my dear country's shore; + That should not be. + + One hour 'twas in the night, + They took me in my plight, + And led me straightway to the captain's door. + O God, they caught me in the stream--what more? + Now all is o'er. + + Tomorrow morn at ten + The regiment I'll have to face; + They'll lead me there to beg for grace. + I'll have my just reward, I know. + It must be so. + + Ye brothers, all ye men, + Ye'll never see me here again; + The shepherd boy, I say, began it all, + And I accuse the Alpine bugle-call + Of this my fall. + + I pray ye, brothers three, + Come on and shoot at me; + Fear not my tender life to hurt, + Shoot on and let the red blood spurt-- + Come on, I say! + + O Lord of heaven, on high! + Take my poor erring soul + Unto its heavenly goal; + There let it stay forever-- + Forget me never! + + * * * * * + + THE TAILOR IN HELL + + + A tailor 'gan to wander + One Monday morning fair, + And then he met the devil, + Whose feet and legs were bare: + Hallo, thou tailor-fellow, + Come now with me to hell--oh, + And measure clothes for us to wear, + For what we will, is well, oh! + + The tailor measured, then he took + His scissors long, and clipped + The devils' little tails all off, + And to and fro they skipped. + Hallo, thou tailor-fellow, + Now hie thee out of hell--oh, + We do not need this clipping, sir, + For what we will, is well, oh! + + The tailor took his iron out, + And tossed it in the fire; + The devils' wrinkles then he pressed; + Their screams were something dire. + Hallo, thou tailor-fellow, + Begone now from our hell--oh, + We do not need this pressing, + For what we will, is well, oh! + + "Keep still!" he said and pierced their heads + With a bodkin from his sack. + "This way we put the buttons on, + For that's our tailor's knack! + Hallo, thou tailor-fellow, + Now get thee out of hell--oh, + We do not need this dressing, + For what we will, is well, oh! + + With thimble and with needle then + His stitching he began, + And closed the devils' nostrils up + As tight as e'er one can. + + Hallo, thou tailor-fellow, + Now his thee out of hell--oh, + We cannot use our noses, + Do what we will for smell, oh! + + Then he began to cut away-- + It must have made them smart; + With all his might the tailor ripped + The devils' ears apart. + Hallo, thou tailor-fellow, + Now march away from hell--oh, + We else should need a doctor, + If what we will were well--oh! + + And last of all came Lucifer + And cried: "What horror fell! + No devil has his little tail; + So drive him out of hell." + Hallo, thou tailor-fellow, + Now his thee out of hell--oh, + We need to wear no clothes at all-- + For what we will, is well, oh! + + And when the tailor's sack was packed, + He felt so very well--oh! + He hopped and skipped without dismay + And had a laughing spell, oh! + And hurried out of hell--oh, + And stayed a tailor-fellow; + And the devil will catch no tailor now, + Let him steal, as he will--it is well, though! + +[Illustration: THE REAPER Walter Crane] + + * * * * * + + THE REAPER + + + There is a reaper, Death his name; + His might from God the highest came. + Today his knife he'll whet, + 'Twill cut far better yet; + Soon he will come and mow, + And we must bear the woe-- + Beware, fair flower! + + The flowers fresh and green today, + Tomorrow will be mowed away + Narcissus so white, + The meadows' delight, + The hyacinthias pale + And morning-glories frail-- + Beware, fair flower! + + Full many thousand blossoms blithe + Must fall beneath his deadly scythe: + Roses and lilies pure, + Your end is all too sure! + Imperial lilies rare + He will not spare-- + Beware, fair flower! + + The bluet wee, of heaven's hue, + The tulips white and yellow too, + The dainty silver bell, + The golden phlox as well-- + All sink upon the earth. + Oh, what a sorry dearth! + Beware, fair flower! + + Sweet lavender of lovely scent, + And rosemary, dear ornament, + Sword-lilies proud, unfurled, + And basil, quaintly curled, + And fragile violet blue-- + He soon will seize you too! + Beware, fair flower! + + Death, I defy thee! Hasten near + With one great sweep--I have no fear! + Though hurt, I'll stay undaunted, + For I shall be transplanted + Into the garden by heaven's gate, + The heavenly garden we all await. + Rejoice, fair flower! + + + + + +_JACOB AND WILHELM GRIMM_ + + * * * * * + +FAIRY TALES[8] (1812) + +TRANSLATED AND EDITED BY MARGARET HUNT + +THE FROG-KING, OR IRON HENRY + + +In old times, when wishing still helped one, there lived a king whose +daughters were all beautiful, but the youngest was so beautiful that +the sun itself, which has seen so much, was astonished whenever it +shone in her face. Close by the King's castle lay a great dark forest, +and under an old lime-tree in the forest was a well, and when the day +was warm the King's child went out into the forest and sat down by +the side of the cool fountain, and when she was dull she took a +golden ball and threw it up high and caught it, and this ball was her +favorite plaything. + +Now it so happened that, on one occasion, the princess' golden ball +did not fall into the little hand which she was holding up for it, but +onto the ground beyond, and rolled straight into the water. The King's +daughter followed it with her eyes, but it vanished, and the well was +deep so deep that the bottom could not be seen. On this she began to +cry, and cried louder and louder, and could not be comforted. And +as she thus lamented, some one said to her: "What ails thee, King's +daughter? Thou weepest so that even a stone would show pity." She +looked around to the side from whence the voice came, and saw a +frog stretching forth its thick, ugly head from the water. "Ah! old +water-splasher, is it thou?" asked she; "I am weeping for my golden +ball, which has fallen into the well." + +[Illustration: JACOB GRIMM E. Hader] + +[Illustration: WILLIAM GRIMM E. Hader] + +"Be quiet, and do not weep," answered the frog; "I can help thee; but +what wilt thou give me if I bring thy plaything up again?" "Whatever +thou wilt have, dear frog," said she--"my clothes, my pearls and +jewels, and even the golden crown which I am wearing." + +The frog answered, "I do not care for thy clothes, thy pearls and +jewels, or thy golden crown, but if thou wilt love me and let me be +thy companion and play-fellow, and sit by thee at thy little table, +and eat off thy little golden plate, and drink out of thy little cup, +and sleep in thy little bed--if thou wilt promise me this I will go +down below and bring thee thy golden ball again." + +"Oh, yes," said she, "I promise thee all thou wishest, if thou wilt +but bring me my ball back again." She, how ever, thought, "How the +silly frog does talk! He lives in the water with the other frogs and +croaks, and can be no companion to any human being!" + +But the frog, when he had received this promise, put his head into the +water and sank down, and in a short time came swimming up again with +the ball in his mouth, and threw it on the grass. The King's daughter +was delighted to see her pretty plaything once more, and picked it up, +and ran away with it. "Wait, wait," said the frog; "take me with thee; +I can't run as thou canst." But what did it avail him to scream his +croak, croak, after her, as loudly as he could? She did not listen to +it, but ran home and soon forgot the poor frog, who was forced to go +back into his well again. + +The next day, when she had seated herself at the table with the King +and all the courtiers and was eating from her little golden plate, +something came creeping splish splash, splish splash, up the marble +staircase, and when it had got to the top, it knocked at the door and +cried, "Princess, youngest princess, open the door for me." She ran to +see who was outside, but when she opened the door, there sat the frog +in front of it. Then she slammed the door to, in great haste, sat down +to dinner again, and was quite frightened. The King saw plainly that +her heart was beating violently, and said, "My child, what art thou so +afraid of? Is there perchance a giant outside who wants to carry thee +away?" "Ah, no," replied she, "it is no giant, but a disgusting frog." + +"What does the frog want with thee?" "Ah, dear father, yesterday when +I was in the forest sitting by the well, playing, my golden ball fell +into the water. And because I cried so the frog brought it out again +for me, and because he insisted so on it, I promised him he should be +my companion; but I never thought he would be able to come out of his +water! And now he is outside there, and wants to come in to me." + +In the meantime it knocked a second time, and cried + + "Princess! youngest princess! + Open the door for me! + Dost thou not know what thou saidst to me + Yesterday by the cool waters of the fountain! + Princess, youngest princess! + Open the door for me!" + +Then said the King, "That which thou has promised must thou perform. +Go and let him in." She went and opened the door, and the frog hopped +in and followed her, step by step, to her chair. There he sat still +and cried, "Lift me up beside thee." She delayed, until at last the +King commanded her to do it. When the frog was once on the chair he +wanted to be on the table, and when he was on the table he said, "Now, +push thy little golden plate nearer to me that we may eat together." +She did this, but it was easy to see that she did not do it willingly. +The frog enjoyed what he ate, but almost every mouthful she took +choked her. At length he said, "I have eaten and am satisfied; now I +am tired, carry me into thy little room and make thy little silken bed +ready, and we will both lie down and go to sleep." + +The King's daughter began to cry, for she was afraid of the cold frog +which she did not like to touch, and which was now to sleep in her +pretty, clean little bed. But the King grew angry and said, "He +who helped thee when thou wert in trouble ought not afterward to be +despised by thee." So she took hold of the frog with two fingers, +carried him upstairs, and put him in a corner. But when she was in +bed he crept to her and said, "I am tired, I want to sleep as well +as thou; lift me up or I will tell thy father." Then she was terribly +angry, and took him up and threw him with all her might against the +wall. "Now thou wilt be quiet, odious frog," said she. But when he +fell down he was no frog but a king's son with beautiful kind eyes. He +by her father's will was now her dear companion and husband. Then he +told her how he had been bewitched by a wicked witch, and how no one +could have delivered him from the well but herself, and that tomorrow +they would go together into his kingdom. Then they went to sleep, and +next morning when the sun awoke them, a carriage came driving up with +eight white horses, which had white ostrich feathers on their heads, +and were harnessed with golden chains, and behind stood the young +King's servant, faithful Henry. Faithful Henry had been so unhappy +when his master was changed into a frog that he had caused three iron +bands to be laid round his heart, lest it should burst with grief and +sadness. The carriage was to conduct the young King into his kingdom. +Faithful Henry helped them both in, and placed himself behind again, +and was full of joy because of this deliverance. And when they had +driven a part of the way, the King's son heard a crackling behind him +as if something had broken. So he turned round and cried, "Henry, the +carriage is breaking." + +"No, master, it is not the carriage. It is a band from my heart, which +was put there in my great pain when you were a frog and imprisoned in +the well." Again and once again while they were on their way something +cracked, and each time the King's son thought the carriage was +breaking; but it was only the bands which were springing from the +heart of faithful Henry because his master was set free and was happy. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE WOLF AND THE SEVEN LITTLE KIDS + + +There was once on a time an old goat who had seven little kids, and +she loved them with all the love of a mother for her children. One day +she wanted to go into the forest and fetch some food. So she called +all seven to her and said, "Dear children, I have to go into the +forest; be on your guard against the wolf; if he comes in, he will +devour you all--skin, hair, and everything. The wretch often disguises +himself, but you will know him at once by his rough voice and his +black feet." The kids said, "Dear mother, we will take good care of +ourselves; you may go away without any anxiety." Then the old one +bleated and went on her way with an easy mind. + +It was not long before some one knocked at the house door, and cried, +"Open the door, dear children; your mother is here, and has brought +something back with her for each of you." But the little kids knew +that it was the wolf, by the rough voice. "We will not open the door," +cried they; "thou art not our mother. She has a soft, pleasant voice, +but thy voice is rough; thou art the wolf!" Then the wolf went away to +a shopkeeper and bought himself a great lump of chalk, ate this, and +made his voice soft with it. Then he came back, knocked at the door +of the house, and cried, "Open the door, dear children; your mother is +here and has brought something back with her for each of you." But the +wolf had laid his black paws against the window, and the children saw +them and cried, "We will not open the door; our mother has not black +feet like thee; thou art the wolf!" Then the wolf ran to a baker and +said, "I have hurt my feet, rub some dough over them for me." And when +the baker had rubbed his feet over, he ran to the miller and said, +"Strew some white meal over my feet for me." The miller thought to +himself, "The wolf wants to deceive some one," and refused; but the +wolf said, "If thou wilt not do it, I will devour thee." Then the +miller was afraid, and made his paws white for him. Truly men are like +that. + +So now the wretch went for the third time to the house door, knocked +at it, and said, "Open the door for me, children; your dear little +mother has come home, and has brought every one of you something back +from the forest with her." The little kids cried, "First show us thy +paws that we may know if thou art our dear little mother." Then he put +his paws in through the window, and when the kids saw that they were +white, they believed that all he said was true, and opened the door. +But who should come in but the wolf! They were terrified and wanted to +hide themselves. One sprang under the table, the second into the bed, +the third into the stove, the fourth into the kitchen, the fifth into +the cupboard, the sixth under the washing-bowl, and the seventh +into the clock-case. But the wolf found them all, and used no great +ceremony; one after the other he swallowed them down his throat. The +youngest in the clock-case was the only one he did not find. When the +wolf had satisfied his appetite he took himself off, laid himself +down under a tree in the green meadow outside, and went to sleep. Soon +afterward the old goat came home again from the forest. Ah! what +a sight she saw there! The house door stood wide open. The table, +chairs, and benches were thrown down, the washing-bowl lay broken to +pieces, and the quilts and pillows were pulled off the bed. She sought +her children, but they were nowhere to be found. She called them one +after another by name, but no one answered. At last, when she came +to the youngest, a soft voice cried, "Dear mother, I am in the +clock-case." She took the kid out, and it told her that the wolf had +come and had eaten all the others. Then you may imagine how she wept +over her poor children. + +At length in her grief she went out, and the youngest kid ran with +her. When they came to the meadow, there lay the wolf by the tree +snoring so loud that the branches shook. She looked at him on every +side and saw that something was moving and struggling in his gorged +body. "Ah, heavens!" said she, "is it possible that my poor children, +whom he has swallowed down for his supper, can be still alive?" Then +the kid had to run home and fetch scissors, and a needle and thread, +and the goat cut open the monster's stomach. Hardly had she made one +cut than one little kid thrust its head out; and, when she had cut +further, all six sprang out one after another. They were all still +alive and had suffered no injury whatever, for in his greediness the +monster had swallowed them down whole. What rejoicing there was! +Then they embraced their dear mother, and jumped like a tailor at +his wedding. The mother, however, said, "Now go and look for some big +stones, and we will fill the wicked beast's stomach with them while he +is still asleep." Then the seven kids dragged the stones thither with +all speed, and put as many of them into his stomach as they could get +in; and the mother sewed him up again in the greatest haste, so that +he was not aware of anything, and never once stirred. + +When the wolf at length had had his sleep out, he got on his legs, +and, as the stones in his stomach made him very thirsty, he wanted to +go to a well to drink. But when he began to walk and to move about, +the stones in his stomach knocked against one another and rattled. +Then cried he-- + + "What rumbles and tumbles + Against my poor bones? + I thought 'twas six kids, + But it's naught but big stones." + +And when he got to the well and stooped over the water and was just +about to drink, the heavy stones made him fall in and there was no +help, but he had to drown miserably. When the seven kids saw that, +they came running to the spot, and cried aloud, "The wolf is dead! +The wolf is dead!" and danced for joy round about the well with their +mother. + + * * * * * + + + + +RAPUNZEL + + +There were once a man and a woman who had long in vain wished for +a child. At length the woman hoped that God was about to grant her +desire. These people had a little window at the back of their house +from which a splendid garden could be seen, which was full of the most +beautiful flowers and herbs. It was, however, surrounded by a high +wall, and no one dared to go into it because it belonged to an +enchantress, who had great power and was dreaded by all the world. One +day the woman was standing by this window and looking down into the +garden, when she saw a bed which was planted with the most beautiful +rampion (rapunzel), and it looked so fresh and green that she longed +for it, and had the greatest desire to eat some. This desire increased +every day, and as she knew that she could not get any of it, she +quite pined away and looked pale and miserable. Then her husband was +alarmed, and asked, "What aileth thee, dear wife?" "Ah," she replied, +"if I can't get some of the rampion, which is in the garden behind our +house, to eat, I shall die." The man, who loved her, thought, "Sooner +than let my wife die, I will bring her some of the rampion myself, +let it cost me what it will." In the twilight of evening, he clambered +down over the wall into the garden of the enchantress, hastily +clutched a handful of rampion, and took it to his wife. She at once +made herself a salad of it and ate it with much relish. She, however, +liked it so much, so very much, that the next day she longed for it +three times as much as before, and, if he was to have any rest, +her husband must once more descend into the garden. In the gloom +of evening, therefore, he let himself down again; but when he had +clambered down the wall he was terribly afraid, for he saw the +enchantress standing before him. "How canst thou dare," said she with +angry look, "to descend into my garden and steal my rampion like a +thief? Thou shalt suffer for it!" "Ah," answered he, "let mercy +take the place of justice; I only made up my mind to do it out of +necessity. My wife saw your rampion from the window, and felt such +a longing for it that she would have died if she had not got some to +eat." Then the enchantress allowed her anger to be softened, and said +to him, "If the case be as thou sayest, I will allow thee to take +away with thee as much rampion as thou wilt, only I make one +condition--thou must give me the child which thy wife will bring into +the world; it shall be well treated and I will care for it like a +mother." The man in his terror consented to everything, and when the +woman was brought to bed, the enchantress appeared at once, gave the +child the name of Rapunzel, and took it away with her. + +Rapunzel grew into the most beautiful child beneath the sun. When she +was twelve years old, the enchantress shut her into a tower which lay +in a forest and had neither stairs nor door, but quite at the top +was a little window. When the enchantress wanted to go in, she placed +herself beneath this, and cried cried-- + + "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, + Let down thy hair to me." + +Rapunzel had magnificent long hair, fine as spun gold, and when she +heard the voice of the enchantress she unfastened her braided tresses, +wound them round one of the hooks of the window above, and then the +hair fell twenty ells down, and the enchantress climbed up by it. + +After a year or two, it came to pass that the King's son rode through +the forest and went by the tower; there he heard a song, which was so +charming that he stood still and listened. This was Rapunzel, who in +her solitude passed her time in letting her sweet voice resound. The +King's son wanted to climb up to her, and looked for the door of the +tower, but none was to be found. He rode home, but the singing had so +deeply touched his heart that every day he went out into the forest +and listened to it. Once, when he was thus standing behind a tree, he +saw that an enchantress came there, and he heard how she cried-- + + "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, + Let down thy hair." + +Then Rapunzel let down the braids of her hair, and the enchantress +climbed up to her. "If that is the ladder by which one mounts, I will +for once try my fortune," said he; and the next day when it began to +grow dark, he went to the tower and cried-- + + "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, + Let down thy hair." + +Immediately the hair fell down and the King's son climbed up. + +At first Rapunzel was terribly frightened when a man such as her eyes +had never yet beheld came to her; but the King's son began to talk +to her quite like a friend, and told her that his heart had been so +stirred that it had let him have no rest, and he had been forced to +see her. Then Rapunzel lost her fear, and when he asked her if she +would take him for her husband, and she saw that he was young and +handsome, she thought, "He will love me more than old Dame Gothel +does;" and she said yes, and laid her hand in his. She said, "I will +willingly go away with thee, but I do not know how to get down. Bring +with thee a skein of silk every time that thou comest, and I will +weave a ladder with it, and when that is ready I will descend, and +thou wilt take me on thy horse." They agreed that, until that time, he +should always come to see her in the evening, for the old woman came +by day. The enchantress remarked nothing of this, until once Rapunzel +said to her, "Tell me, Dame Gothel, how it happens that you are so +much heavier for me to draw up than the young King's son--he is with +me in a moment." "Ah! thou wicked child," cried the enchantress, "what +do I hear thee say? I thought I had separated thee from all the world, +and yet thou hast deceived me!" In her anger she clutched Rapunzel's +beautiful tresses, wrapped them twice round her left hand, seized a +pair of scissors with the right, and, snip, snap, they were cut off, +and the lovely braids lay on the ground. And she was so pitiless that +she took poor Rapunzel into a desert where she had to live in great +grief and misery. + +On the same day, however, that she cast out Rapunzel, the enchantress +in the evening fastened the braids of hair which she had cut off to +the hook of the window, and when the King's son came and cried cried-- + + "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, + Let down thy hair," + +she let the hair down. The King's son ascended, but he did not find +his dearest Rapunzel above-only the enchantress, who gazed at him with +wicked and venomous looks. "Aha!" she cried mockingly, "thou wouldst +fetch thy dearest, but the beautiful bird sits no longer singing in +the nest; the cat has got it, and will scratch out thy eyes as well. +Rapunzel is lost to thee; thou wilt never see her more." The King's +son was beside himself with pain, and in his despair leapt down from +the tower. He escaped with his life, but the thorns into which he fell +pierced his eyes. Then he wandered quite blind about the forest, ate +nothing but roots and berries, and did nothing but lament and weep +over the loss of his dearest wife. Thus he roamed about in misery for +some years, and at length came to the desert where Rapunzel, with +the twins to which she had given birth, a boy and a girl, lived in +wretchedness. He heard a voice, and it seemed so familiar to him that +he went toward it, and, when he approached, Rapunzel knew him and fell +on his neck and wept. Two of her tears wetted his eyes and they grew +clear again so that he could see with them as before. He led her to +his kingdom where he was joyfully received, and they lived for a long +time afterward, happy and contented. + + * * * * * + + + + +HAENSEL AND GRETHEL + + +Hard by a great forest dwelt a poor wood-cutter with his wife and his +two children. The boy was called Haensel and the girl Grethel. He had +little to bite and to break, and once, when great scarcity fell on the +land, he could no longer procure daily bread. Now when he thought over +this by night in his bed, and tossed about in his anxiety, he groaned +and said to his wife, "What is to become of us? How are we to feed +our poor children when we no longer have anything even for ourselves?" +"I'll tell you what, husband," answered the woman, "early tomorrow +morning we will take the children out into the forest to where it is +the thickest, and there we will light a fire for them, and give each +of them one piece of bread more; then we will go to our work and leave +them alone. They will not find the way home again, and we shall be +rid of them." "No, wife," said the man, "I will not do that; how can I +bear to leave my children alone in the forest? The wild animals would +soon come and tear them to pieces." "O, thou fool!" said she, "then we +must all four die of hunger and thou mayest as well plane the planks +for our coffins;" and she left him no peace until he consented. "But I +feel very sorry for the poor children, all the same," said the man. + +[Illustration: HÄNSEL AND GRETHEL Ludwig Richter] + +The two children had also not been able to sleep for hunger, and had +heard what their step-mother had said to their father. Grethel wept +bitter tears, and said to Haensel, "Now all is over with us." "Be +quiet, Grethel," said Haensel. "Do not distress thyself, I will soon +find a way to help us." And when the old folks had fallen asleep, he +got up, put on his coat, opened the door below, and crept outside. The +moon shone brightly and the white pebbles which lay in front of the +house glittered like real silver pennies. Haensel stooped and put as +many of them in the little pocket of his coat as he could possibly get +in. Then he went back and said to Grethel, "Be comforted, dear little +sister, and sleep in peace; God will not forsake us;" and he lay down +again in his bed. When day dawned, but before the sun had risen, the +woman came and awoke the two children, saying, "Get up, you sluggards! +we are going into the forest to fetch wood." She gave each a little +piece of bread, and said, "There is something for your dinner, but +do not eat it up before then, for you will get nothing else." Grethel +took the bread under her apron, as Haensel had the stones in his +pocket. Then they all set out together on the way to the forest. When +they, had walked a short time, Haensel stood still and peeped back at +the house, and did so again and again. His father said, "Haensel, what +art thou looking at there and staying behind for? Mind what thou art +about, and do not forget how to use thy legs." "Ah, father," said +Haensel, "I am looking at my little white cat, which is sitting upon +the roof, and wants to say good-bye to me." The wife said, "Fool, that +is not thy little cat; that is the morning sun which is shining on the +chimneys." Haensel, however, had not been looking back at the cat, but +had been constantly throwing one of the white pebble-stones out of his +pocket on the road. + +When they had reached the middle of the forest, the father said, "Now, +children, pile up some wood, and I will light a fire that you may not +be cold." Haensel and Grethel gathered brushwood together, as high +as a little hill. The brushwood was lighted, and when the flames were +burning very high the woman said, "Now, children, lay yourselves down +by the fire and rest and we will go into the forest and cut some wood. +When we have done, we will come back and fetch you away." + +Haensel and Grethel sat by the fire, and, when noon came, each ate a +little piece of bread, but, as they heard the strokes of the wood-axe, +they believed that their father was near. It was, however, not the +axe; it was a branch which he had fastened to a withered tree which +the wind was blowing backward and forward; and, as they had been +sitting such a long time, their eyes shut with fatigue and they +fell fast asleep. When at last they awoke it was already dark night. +Grethel began to cry and said, "How are we to get out of the forest +now?" But Haensel comforted her and said, "Just wait a little, until +the moon has risen, and then we will soon find the way." And when the +full moon had risen, Haensel took his little sister by the hand and +followed the pebbles, which shone like newly-coined silver pieces and +showed them the way. + +They walked the whole night long, and by break of day came once more +to their father's house. They knocked at the door, and when the woman +opened it and saw that it was Haensel and Grethel, she said, "You +naughty children, why have you slept so long in the forest? We thought +you were never coming back at all!" The father, however, rejoiced, for +it had cut him to the heart to leave them behind alone. + +Not long afterward, there was once more great scarcity in all parts, +and the children heard their mother saying at night to their father, +"Everything is eaten again; we have one-half loaf left, and after that +there is an end. The children must go. We will take them farther into +the wood, so that they will not find their way out again; there is no +other means of saving ourselves!" The man's heart was heavy, and he +thought, "It would be better for thee to share the last mouthful with +thy children." The woman, however, would listen to nothing that he +had to say, but scolded and reproached him. He who says A must say +B likewise, and, as he had yielded the first time, he had to do so a +second time also. + +The children were, however, still awake and had heard the +conversation. When the old folks were asleep, Haensel again got up, +and wanted to go out and pick up pebbles; but the woman had locked +the door, and Haensel could not get out. Nevertheless he comforted his +little sister, and said, "Do not cry, Grethel, go to sleep quietly. +The good God will help us." + +Early in the morning came the woman, and took the children out of +their beds. Their bit of bread was given to them, but it was still +smaller than the time before. On the way into the forest Haensel +crumbled his in his pocket, and often stood still and threw a morsel +on the ground. "Haensel, why dost thou stop and look around?" asked +the father; "go on." "I am looking back at my little pigeon which +is sitting on the roof, and wants to say good-bye to me," answered +Haensel. "Simpleton!" said the woman, "that is not thy little pigeon, +that is the morning sun that is shining on the chimney." Haensel, +however, little by little, threw all the crumbs on the path. + +The woman led the children still deeper into the forest, where they +had never in their lives been before. Then a great fire was again +made, and the mother said, "Just sit there, you children, and when you +are tired you may sleep a little; we are going into the forest to cut +wood, and in the evening, when we are done, we will come and fetch +you away." When it was noon, Grethel shared her piece of bread with +Haensel, who had scattered his by the way. Then they fell asleep and +evening came and went, but no one came to the poor children. They did +not awake until it was dark night; but Haensel comforted his little +sister and said, "Just wait, Grethel, until the moon rises, and then +we shall see the crumbs of bread which I have strewn about. They will +show us our way home again." When the moon rose they set out, but they +found no crumbs, for the many thousands of birds which fly about in +the woods and fields had picked them all up. Haensel said to Grethel, +"We shall soon find the way," but they did not find it. They walked +the whole night and all the next day too, from morning till evening, +but they did not get out of the forest, and were very hungry, for they +had nothing to eat but two or three berries which grew on the ground. +And as they were so weary that their legs would carry them no longer, +they lay down beneath a tree and fell asleep. + +It was now three mornings since they had left their father's house. +They began to walk again, but they always got so much deeper into the +forest that, if help did not come soon, they must die of hunger and +weariness. When it was mid-day, they saw a beautiful snow-white bird +sitting on a bough, which sang so delightfully that they stood still +and listened to it. And when it had finished its song, it spread +its wings and flew away before them, and they followed it until they +reached a little house, on the roof of which it alighted; and when +they came quite up to the little house they saw that it was built +of bread and covered with cakes, and that the windows were of clear +sugar. "We will set to work on that," said Haensel, "and have a good +meal. I will eat a bit of the roof, and thou, Grethel, canst eat some +of the window; it will taste sweet." Haensel reached up above, and +broke off a little of the roof to try how it tasted, and Grethel leant +against the window and nibbled at the panes. Then a soft voice cried +from the room-- + + "Nibble, nibble, gnaw, + Who is nibbling at my little house?" + +The children answered-- + + "The wind, the wind, + The heaven-born wind," + +and went on eating without disturbing themselves. + +Haensel, who thought the roof tasted very nice, tore down a +great piece of it, and Grethel pushed out the whole of one round +window-pane, sat down, and enjoyed herself with it. Suddenly the door +opened, and a very, very old woman, who supported herself on crutches, +came creeping out. Haensel and Grethel were so terribly frightened +that they let fall what they had in their hands. The old woman, +however, nodded her head, and said, "Oh, you dear children, who has +brought you here? Do come in, and stay with me. No harm shall happen +to you." She took them both by the hand, and led them into her little +house. Then good food was set before them, milk and pancakes, with +sugar, apples, and nuts. Afterward two pretty little beds were covered +with clean white linen, and Haensel and Grethel lay down in them, and +thought they were in heaven. + +The old woman had only pretended to be so kind; she was in reality +a wicked witch, who lay in wait for children, and had only built the +little bread house in order to entice them there. When a child fell +into her power, she killed it, cooked and ate it, and that was a feast +day with her. Witches have red eyes, and cannot see far, but they have +a keen scent, like the beasts, and are aware when human beings draw +near. When Haensel and Grethel came into her neighborhood, she laughed +maliciously, and said mockingly, "I have them; they shall not escape +me again!" Early in the morning, before the children were awake, she +was already up, and when she saw both of them sleeping and looking so +pretty, with their plump red cheeks, she muttered to herself, "That +will be a dainty mouthful!" Then she seized Haensel with her shriveled +hand, carried him into a little stable, and shut him in with a grated +door. He might scream as he liked, that was of no use. Then she went +to Grethel, shook her till she awoke, and cried, "Get up, lazy thing, +fetch some water, and cook something good for thy brother; he is in +the stable outside, and is to be made fat. When he is fat, I will eat +him." Grethel began to weep bitterly, but it was all in vain; she was +forced to do what the wicked witch ordered her. + +And now the best food was cooked for poor Haensel, but Grethel got +nothing but crab-shells. Every morning the woman crept to the little +stable, and cried, "Haensel, stretch out thy finger that I may feel if +thou wilt soon be fat." Haensel, however, stretched out a little bone +to her, and the old woman, who had dim eyes, could not see it, and +thought it was Haensel's finger, and was astonished that there was no +way of fattening him. When four weeks had gone by, and Haensel still +continued thin, she was seized with impatience and would not wait any +longer. "Hola, Grethel," she cried to the girl, "be active, and bring +some water. Let Haensel be fat or lean, tomorrow I will kill him and +cook him." Ah, how the poor little sister did lament when she had +to fetch the water, and how her tears did flow down over her cheeks! +"Dear God, do help us!" she cried. "If the wild beasts in the forest +had but devoured us, we should at any rate have died together." "Just +keep thy noise to thyself," said the old woman; "all that won't help +thee at all." + +Early in the morning, Grethel had to go out and hang up the caldron +with the water, and light the fire. "We will bake first," said the old +woman; "I have already heated the oven, and kneaded the dough." She +pushed poor Grethel out to the oven from which flames of fire were +already darting. "Creep in," said the witch, "and see if it is +properly heated, so that we can shut the bread in." And when once +Grethel was inside, she intended to shut the oven and let her bake in +it, and then she would eat her, too. But Grethel saw what she had in +her mind, and said, "I do not know how I am to do it; how do you get +in?" "Silly goose," said the old woman. "The door is big enough; just +look, I can get in myself!" and she crept up and thrust her head into +the oven. Then Grethel gave her a push that drove her far into it, and +shut the iron door, and fastened the bolt. Oh! then she began to +howl quite horribly, but Grethel ran away, and the godless witch was +miserably burnt to death. + +Grethel, however, ran as quick as lightning to Haensel, opened his +little stable, and cried, "Haensel, we are saved! The old witch is +dead!" Then Haensel sprang out like a bird from its cage when the door +is opened for it. How they did rejoice and embrace each other, and +dance about and kiss each other! And as they had no longer any need to +fear her, they went into the witch's house; and in every corner there +stood chests full of pearls and jewels. "These are far better than +pebbles!" said Haensel, and thrust into his pockets whatever could be +got in; and Grethel said, "I, too, will take something home with me," +and filled her pinafore full. "But now we will go away," said Haensel, +"that we may get out of the witch's forest." + +When they had walked for two hours, they came to a great piece of +water. "We cannot get over," said Haensel, "I see no foot-plank, and +no bridge." "And no boat crosses either," answered Grethel, "but a +white duck is swimming there; if I ask her, she will help us over." +Then she cried-- + + "Little duck, little duck, dost thou see, + Haensel and Grethel are waiting for thee? + There's never a plank, or bridge in sight, + Take us across on thy back so white." + +The duck came to them, and Haensel seated himself on its back, and +told his sister to sit by him. "No," replied Grethel, "that will be +too heavy for the little duck; she shall take us across, one after the +other." The good little duck did so, and when they were once safely +across and had walked for a short time, the forest seemed to be more +and more familiar to them, and at length they saw from afar their +father's house. Then they began to run, rushed into the parlor, and +threw themselves into their father's arms. The man had not known one +happy hour since he had left the children in the forest; the woman, +however, was dead. Grethel emptied her pinafore until pearls and +precious stones ran about the room, and Haensel threw one handful +after another out of his pocket to add to them. Then all anxiety was +at an end, and they lived together in perfect happiness. My tale is +done. There runs a mouse; whosoever catches it may make himself a big +fur cap out of it. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE FISHERMAN AND HIS WIFE + + +There was once on a time a Fisherman who lived with his wife in a +miserable hovel close by the sea, and every day he went out fishing. +And once as he was sitting with his rod, looking at the clear water, +his line suddenly went down, far down below, and when he drew it up +again he brought out a large Flounder. Then the Flounder said to +him, "Hark, you Fisherman, I pray you, let me live; I am no Flounder +really, but an enchanted prince. What good will it do you to kill me? +I should not be good to eat; put me in the water again, and let me +go." "Come," said the Fisherman, "there is no need for so many words +about it--a fish that can talk I should certainly let go, anyhow." +With that he put him back again into the clear water, and the Flounder +went to the bottom, leaving a long streak of blood behind him. +Then the Fisherman got up and went home to his wife in the hovel. +"Husband," said the woman, "have you caught nothing today?" "No," said +the man; "I did catch a Flounder, who said he was an enchanted prince, +so I let him go again." "Did you not wish for anything first?" said +the woman. "No," said the man; "what should I wish for?" "Ah," said +the woman, "it is surely hard to have to live always in this dirty +hovel. You might have wished for a small cottage for us. Go back and +call him. Tell him we want to have a small cottage; he will certainly +give us that." "Ah," said the man, "why should I go there again?" +"Why," said the woman, "you did catch him, and you let him go again; +he is sure to do it. Go at once." The man still did not quite like to +go, but did not like to oppose his wife, either, and so went to the +sea. When he got there the sea was all green and yellow, and no longer +smooth, as before; so he stood and said-- + + "Flounder, Flounder, in the sea, + Come, I pray thee, here to me; + For my wife, good Ilsabil, + Wills not as I'd have her will." + +Then the Flounder came swimming to him and said, "Well, what does she +want, then?" "Ah," said the man, "I did catch you, and my wife says I +really ought to have wished for something. She does not like to live +in a wretched hovel any longer; she would like to have a cottage." +"Go, then," said the Flounder, "she has it already." + +When the man went home, his wife was no longer in the hovel, but, +instead of it, there stood a small cottage, and she was sitting on a +bench before the door. Then she took him by the hand and said to him, +"Just come inside, look, now isn't this a great deal better?" So they +went in, and there was a small porch, and a pretty little parlor and +bedroom and a kitchen and pantry, with the best of furniture, and +fitted up with the most beautiful things made of tin and brass, +whatsoever was wanted. And behind the cottage there was a small yard, +with hens and ducks, and a little garden with flowers and fruit. +"Look," said the wife, "is not that nice!" "Yes," said the husband, +"and so we must always think it; now we will live quite contented." +"We will think about that," said the wife. With that they ate +something and went to bed. + +Everything went well for a week or a fortnight, and then the woman +said, "Hark you, husband, this cottage is far too small for us, and +the garden and yard are little; the Flounder might just as well +have given us a larger house. I should like to live in a great stone +castle; go to the Flounder, and tell him to give us a castle." "Ah, +wife," said the man, "the cottage is quite good enough; why should +we live in a castle?" "What!" said the woman; "just go there, the +Flounder can always do that." "No, wife," said the man, "the Flounder +has just given us the cottage; I do not like to go back so soon. +It might make him angry." "Go," said the woman, "he can do it quite +easily, and will be glad to do it; just you go to him." + +The man's heart grew heavy, and he would not go. He said to himself, +"It is not right," and yet he went. And when he came to the sea the +water was quite purple and dark-blue, and gray and thick, and no +longer green and yellow; but it was still quiet. And he stood there +and said-- + + "Flounder, Flounder, in the sea, + Come, I pray thee, here to me; + For my wife, good Ilsabil, + Wills not as I'd have her will." + +"Well, what does she want, then?" said the Flounder. "Alas," said the +man, half scared, "she wants to live in a great stone castle." "Go to +it, then, she is standing before the door," said the Flounder. + +Then the man went away, intending to go home, but when he got there, +he found a great stone palace, and his wife was just standing on the +steps going in, and she took him by the hand and said, "Come in." So +he went in with her, and in the castle was a great hall paved with +marble, and many servants, who flung wide the doors; and the walls +were all bright with beautiful hangings, and in the rooms were +chairs and tables of pure gold, and crystal chandeliers hung from the +ceiling, and all the rooms and bedrooms had carpets, and food and wine +of the very best were standing on all the tables so that they nearly +broke down beneath it. Behind the house, too, there was a great +courtyard, with stables for horses and cows, and the very best of +carriages; there was a magnificent large garden, too, with the most +beautiful flowers and fruit-trees, and a park quite half a mile long, +in which were stags, deer, and hares, and everything that could +be desired. "Come," said the woman, "isn't that beautiful?" "Yes, +indeed," said the man; "now let it be; we will live in this beautiful +castle and be content." "We will consider about that," said the woman, +"and sleep upon it;" thereupon they went to bed. + +Next morning the wife awoke first, and it was just daybreak, and from +her bed she saw the beautiful country lying before her. Her husband +was still stretching himself, so she poked him in the side with her +elbow, and said, "Get up, husband, and just peep out of the window. +Look you, couldn't we be the King over all that land? Go to the +Flounder, we will be the King." "Ah, wife," said the man, "why should +we be King? I do not want to be King." "Well," said the wife, "if you +won't be King, I will; go to the Flounder, for I will be King." "Oh, +wife," said the man, "why do you want to be King? I do not like to +say that to him." "Why not?" asked the woman; "go to him this instant; +I must be King!" So the man went, and was quite unhappy because his +wife wished to be King. "It is not right; it is not right," thought +he. He did not wish to go; but yet he went. + +And when he came to the sea, it was quite dark-gray, and the water +heaved up from below, and smelt putrid. Then he went and stood by it, +and said-- + + "Flounder, Flounder, in the sea, + Come, I pray thee, here to me; + For my wife, good Ilsabil, + Wills not as I'd have her will." + +"Well, what does she want, then?" asked the Flounder. "Alas," said the +man, "she wants to be King." "Go to her; she is King already." + +So the man went, and when he came to the palace, the castle had become +much larger, and had a great tower and magnificent ornaments, and +the sentinel was standing before the door, and there were numbers of +soldiers with kettle-drums and trumpets. And when he went inside the +house, everything was of real marble and gold, with velvet covers +and great golden tassels. Then the doors of the hall were opened, and +there was the court in all its splendor, and his wife was sitting on +a high throne of gold and diamonds, with a great crown of gold on her +head, and a sceptre of pure gold and jewels in her hand, and on both +sides of her stood her maids-in-waiting in a row, each of them always +one head shorter than the last. + +Then he went and stood before her, and said, "Ah, wife, and now you +are King!" "Yes," said the woman, "now I am King." So he stood and +looked at her, and when he had looked at her thus for a time he said, +"And now that you are King, let all else be; now we will wish for +nothing more." "Nay, husband," said the woman, quite anxiously, +"I find time pass very heavily; I can bear it no longer; go to the +Flounder. I am King, but I must be Emperor, too." + +"Alas, wife, why do you wish to be Emperor?" "Husband," said she, "go +to the Flounder. I will be Emperor." "Alas, wife," said the man, "he +cannot make you Emperor; I may not say that to the fish. There is only +one Emperor in the land. An Emperor the Flounder cannot make you! I +assure you he cannot." + +"What!" said the woman, "I am the King, and you are nothing but my +husband; will you go this moment? Go at once! If he can make a king +he can make an emperor. I will be Emperor; go instantly." So he was +forced to go. As the man went, however, he was troubled in mind, +and thought to himself, "It will not end well; it will not end well! +Emperor is too shameless! The Flounder will at last be tired out." + +With that he reached the sea, and the sea was quite black and thick, +and began to boil up from below, so that it threw up bubbles, and such +a sharp wind blew over it that it curdled, and the man was afraid. +Then he went and stood by it, and said-- + + "Flounder, Flounder, in the sea, + Come, I pray thee, here to me; + For my wife, good Ilsabil, + Wills not as I'd have her will." + +"Well, what does she want, then?" asked the Flounder. "Alas, +Flounder," said he, "my wife wants to be Emperor." "Go to her," said +the Flounder; "she is Emperor already." + +So the man went, and when he got there the whole palace was made +of polished marble with alabaster figures and golden ornaments, and +soldiers were marching before the door blowing trumpets, and beating +cymbals and drums; and in the house, barons, and counts, and dukes +were going about as servants. Then they opened the doors to him, +which were of pure gold. And when he entered, there sat his wife on a +throne, which was made of one piece of gold, and was quite two miles +high; and she wore a great golden crown that was three yards high, and +set with diamonds and carbuncles, and in one hand she had the sceptre, +and in the other the imperial orb; and on both sides of her stood +the yeomen of the guard in two rows, each being smaller than the one +before him, from the biggest giant, who was two miles high, to the +very smallest dwarf, just as big as my little finger. And before it +stood a number of princes and dukes. + +Then the man went and stood among them, and said, "Wife, are you +Emperor now?" "Yes," said she, "now I am Emperor." Then he stood and +looked at her well; and when he had looked at her thus for some time, +be said, "Ah, wife, be content, now that you are Emperor." "Husband," +said she, "why are you standing there? Now, I am Emperor, but I will +be Pope too; go to the Flounder." + +"Alas, wife," said the man, "what will you not wish for? You cannot +be Pope; there is but one in Christendom; he cannot make you Pope." +"Husband," said she, "I will be Pope; go immediately, I must be Pope +this very day." "No, wife," said the man, "I do not like to say that +to him; that would not do; it is too much; the Flounder can't make you +Pope." "Husband," said she, "what nonsense! If he can make an emperor +he can make a pope. Go to him directly. I am Emperor and you are +nothing but my husband; will you go at once?" + +Then he was afraid, and went; but he was quite faint, and shivered and +shook, and his knees and legs trembled. And a high wind blew over the +land, and the clouds flew, and toward evening all grew dark, and the +leaves fell from the trees, and the water rose and roared as if it +were boiling, and splashed upon the shore; and in the distance he saw +ships which were firing guns in their sore need, pitching and tossing +on the waves. And yet in the midst of the sky there was still a small +bit of blue, though on every side it was as red as in a heavy storm. +So, full of despair, he went and stood in much fear and said-- + + "Flounder, Flounder, in the sea, + Come, I pray thee, here to me; + For my wife, good Ilsabil, + Wills not as I'd have her will." + +"Well, what does she want, then?" asked the Flounder. "Alas," said the +man, "she wants to be Pope." "Go to her then," said the Flounder; "she +is Pope already." + +So he went, and when he got there, he saw what seemed to be a large +church surrounded by palaces. Inside, however, everything was lighted +up with thousands and thousands of candles, and his wife was clad in +gold, and she was sitting on a much higher throne, and had three great +golden crowns on, and around about her there was much ecclesiastical +splendor; and on both sides of her was a row of candles the largest of +which was as tall as the very tallest tower, down to the very smallest +kitchen candle, and all the emperors and kings were on their knees +before her, kissing her shoe. He pushed his way through the crowd. +"Wife," said the man, and looked attentively at her, "are you now +Pope?" "Yes," said she, "I am Pope." So he stood and looked at her, +and it was just as if he was looking at the bright sun. When he had +stood looking at her thus for a short time, he said, "Ah, wife, if you +are Pope, do let well alone!" But she looked as stiff as a post, and +did not move or show any signs of life. Then said he, "Wife, now that +you are Pope, be satisfied; you cannot become anything greater now." +"I will consider about that," said the woman. Thereupon they both +went to bed, but she was not satisfied, and greediness let her have no +sleep, for she was continually thinking what there was left for her to +be. + +The man slept well and soundly, for he had run about a great deal +during the day; but the woman could not fall asleep at all, and flung +herself from one side to the other the whole night through, thinking +always what more was left for her to be, but unable to call to mind +anything else. At length the sun began to rise, and when the woman saw +the red of dawn, she sat up in bed and looked at it. And when, through +the window, she saw the sun thus rising, she said, "Cannot I, too, +order the sun and moon to rise?" "Husband," said she, poking him in +the ribs with her elbow, "wake up! go to the Flounder, for I wish +to be even as God is." The man was still half asleep, but he was +so horrified that he fell out of bed. He thought he must have heard +amiss, and rubbed his eyes, and said, "Alas, wife, what are you +saying?" "Husband," said she, "if I can't order the sun and moon to +rise, and have to look on and see the sun and moon rising, I can't +bear it. I shall not know what it is to have another happy hour, +unless I can make them rise myself." + +Then she looked at him so terribly that a shudder ran over him, and +said, "Go at once; I wish to be like unto God." "Alas, wife," said the +man, falling on his knees before her, "the Flounder cannot do that; he +can make an emperor and a pope; I beseech you, go on as you are, and +be Pope." Then she fell into a rage, and her hair flew wildly about +her head, and she cried, "I will not endure this, I'll not bear it any +longer; wilt thou go?" Then he put on his trousers and ran away like a +madman. But outside a great storm was raging and blowing so hard that +he could scarcely keep his feet; houses and trees toppled over, the +mountains trembled, rocks rolled into the sea, the sky was pitch +black, and it thundered and lightened, and the sea came in with black +waves as high as church-towers and mountains, and all with crests +of white foam at the top. Then he cried, but could not hear his own +words-- + + "Flounder, Flounder, in the sea, + Come, I pray thee, here to me; + For my wife, good Ilsabil, + Wills not as I'd have her will" + +"Well, what does she want, then?" asked the Flounder. "Alas," said +he, "she wants to be like unto God." "Go to her, and you will find +her back again in the dirty hovel." And there they are living still at +this very time. + + + + +_ERNST MORITZ ARNDT_ + + * * * * * + + + SONG OF THE FATHERLAND[9] (1813) + + + God, who gave iron, purposed ne'er + That man should be a slave; + Therefore the sabre, sword, and spear + In his right hand He gave. + Therefore He gave him fiery mood, + Fierce speech, and free-born breath, + That he might fearlessly the feud + Maintain through blood and death. + + Therefore will we what God did say, + With honest truth, maintain-- + And ne'er a fellow-creature slay, + A tyrant's pay to gain! + But he shall perish by stroke of brand + Who fighteth for sin and shame, + And not inherit the German land + With men of the German name. + + O Germany! bright Fatherland! + O German love so true! + Thou sacred land--thou beauteous land-- + We swear to thee anew! + Outlawed, each knave and coward shall + The crow and raven feed; + But we will to the battle all-- + Revenge shall be our meed. + + Flash forth, flash forth, whatever can, + To bright and flaming life! + Now, all ye Germans, man for man, + Forth to the holy strife! + Your hands lift upward to the sky-- + Your hearts shall upward soar-- + And man for man let each one cry, + Our slavery is o'er! + + Let sound, let sound, whatever can + Trumpet and fife and drum! + This day our sabres, man for man, + To stain with blood, we come; + With hangman's and with coward's blood, + O glorious day of ire + That to all Germans soundeth good!-- + Day of our great desire! + + Let wave, let wave, whatever can-- + Standard and banner wave! + Here will we purpose, man for man, + To grace a hero's grave. + Advance, ye brave ranks, hardily-- + Your banners wave on high; + We'll gain us freedom's victory, + Or freedom's death we'll die! + +[Illustration: ERNST MORITZ ARNDT Julius Röting] + + + * * * * * + + + UNION SONG[10] (1814) + + + This blessed hour we are united, + Of German men a mighty choir, + And from the lips of each, delighted, + Our praying souls to heaven aspire; + With high and sacred awe abounding + We join in solemn thoughts today, + And so our hearts should be resounding + In clear harmonic song and play. + + To whom shall foremost thanks be given? + To God, the great, so long concealed, + Who, when the cloud of shame was riven, + Himself in flames to us revealed, + Who, stubborn foes with lightning felling, + Restored to us our strength of yore, + Who, on the stars in power dwelling, + Reigns ever and forevermore. + + Who should our second wish be hearing? + The majesty of Fatherland-- + Destroyed be those who still are sneering! + Hail them who with it fall and stand! + By virtue winning admiration, + Beloved for honesty and might, + Long live through centuries our nation + As strong in honor and in might! + + The third is German manhood's treasure-- + Ring out it shall, with clearness mete! + For Freedom is the German pleasure, + And Germans step to Freedom's beat. + Be life and death by her inspirèd-- + Of German hearts, oh, longing bright! + And death for Freedom's sake desirèd + Is German honor and delight. + + The fourth--for noble consecration + Now lift on high both heart and hand! + Old loyalty within our nation + And German faith forever stand!-- + These virtues shall, our weal assuring, + Remain our union's shield and stay; + Our manly word will be enduring + Until the world shall pass away. + + Now let the final chord be ringing + In jubilee--stand not apart! + Let sound our mighty, joyful singing + From lip to lip, from heart to heart! + The weal from which no devils bar us, + The word that doth our league infold-- + The bliss which tyrants cannot mar us + We must believe in, we must hold! + + + + +_THEODOR KÖRNER_ + + * * * * * + + MEN AND KNAVES[11] (1813) + + + The storm is out; the land is roused; + Where is the coward who sits well-housed? + Fie, on thee, boy, disguised in curls, + Behind the stove, 'mong gluttons and girls! + A graceless, worthless wight thou must be; + No German maid desires thee, + No German song inspires thee, + No German Rhine-wine fires thee. + Forth in the van, + Man by man, + Swing the battle-sword who can! + + When we stand watching, the livelong night, + Through piping storms, till morning light, + Thou to thy downy bed canst creep, + And there in dreams of rapture sleep. + + _Chorus_. + + When, hoarse and shrill, the trumpet's blast, + Like the thunder of God, makes our hearts beat fast, + Thou in the theatre lov'st to appear, + Where trills and quavers tickle the ear. + + _Chorus_. + + When the glare of noonday scorches the brain, + When our parched lips seek water in vain, + Thou canst make the champagne corks fly, + At the groaning tables of luxury. + + _Chorus_. + + When we, as we rush to the strangling fight, + Send home to our true loves a long "Good night," + Thou canst hie thee where love is sold, + And buy thy pleasure with paltry gold. + + _Chorus_. + + When lance and bullet come whistling by, + And death in a thousand shapes draws nigh, + Thou canst sit at thy cards, and kill + King, queen, and knave, with thy spadille. + + _Chorus_. + + If on the red field our bell should toll, + Then welcome be death to the patriot's soul. + Thy pampered flesh shall quake at its doom, + And crawl in silk to a hopeless tomb. + A pitiful exit thine shall be; + No German maid shall weep for thee, + No German song shall they sing for thee, + No German goblets shall ring for thee. + Forth in the van, + Man for man, + Swing the battle-sword who can! + + * * * * * + + LÜTZOW'S WILD BAND[12] (1813) + + + What gleams through the woods in the morning sun? + Hear it nearer and nearer draw! + It winds in and out in columns dun, + And the trumpet-notes on the roused winds run, + And they startle the soul with awe. + Should you of the comrades black demand-- + That is Lützow's wild and untamed band. + + What passes swift through the darksome glade, + And roves o'er the mountains all? + It crouches in nightly ambuscade; + The hurrah breaks round the foe dismayed, + And the Frankish sergeants fall. + Should you of the rangers black demand-- + That is Lützow's wild and audacious band. + + Where the vineyards flourish, there roars the Rhine; + There the tyrant thought him secure; + Then by thunder-crash and lightning-shine + In the waters plunges the fighting line; + Of the hostile bank makes sure. + Should you of the swimmers black demand-- + That is Lützow's wild and foolhardy band. + + There down in the valley what clamorous fight! + What clangor of bloody swords! + Fierce-hearted horsemen wage the fight, + And the spark of freedom's at last alight, + Flaming red the heavens towards. + Should you of the horsemen black demand-- + That is Lützow's wild and intrepid band. + + Who with death-rattle there bid the day farewell + 'Mid the moans of prostrate foes? + Of the hand of death the drawn features tell, + Yet the dauntless hearts triumphant swell, + For his Fatherland's safe each knows! + Should you of the black-clad fallen demand-- + That is Lützow's wild and invincible band. + + The wild, fierce band and the Teuton band, + For all tyrants' blood athirst!-- + So you who would mourn us, be not unmanned; + For the morning dawns, and we freed our land, + Though to free it we won death first! + Then tell, at your grandsons' rapt demand: + That was Lützow's wild and unconquered band! + +[Illustration: THEODOR KÖRNER] + + * * * * * + + PRAYER DURING BATTLE[13](1813) + + + Father, I call to thee. + The roaring artillery's clouds thicken round me, + The hiss and the glare of the loud bolts confound me. + Ruler of battles, I call on thee + O Father, lead thou me! + + O Father, lead thou me; + To victory, to death, dread Commander, O guide me; + The dark valley brightens when thou art beside me; + Lord, as thou wilt, so lead thou me. + God, I acknowledge thee. + + God, I acknowledge thee; + When the breeze through the dry leaves of autumn is moaning, + When the thunder-storm of battle is groaning, + Fount of mercy, in each I acknowledge thee. + O Father, bless thou me! + + O Father, bless thou me; + I trust in thy mercy, whate'er may befall me; + 'Tis thy word that hath sent me; that word can recall me. + Living or dying, O bless thou me! + Father, I honor thee. + + Father, I honor thee; + Not for earth's hoards or honors we here are contending; + All that is holy our swords are defending; + Then falling, and conquering, I honor thee. + God, I repose in thee. + + God, I repose in thee; + When the thunders of death my soul are greeting, + When the gashed veins bleed, and the life is fleeting, + In thee, my God, I repose in thee. + Father, I call on thee. + + + + +_MAXIMILIAN GOTTFRIED VON SCHENKENDORF_ + + * * * * * + + THE MOTHER TONGUE[14] (1814) + + + Mother tongue, oh, tongue most dear, + Sweet and gladsome to mine ear! + Word that first I heard, endearing + Word of love, first timid sound + That I stammered--still I'm hearing + Thee within my soul profound. + + Oh, my heart will ever grieve + When my Fatherland I leave, + For in foreign tongues repeating + Words of strangers, I lose cheer. + Oh, they seem not like a greeting, + And I'll never hold them dear. + + Speech so wonderful to hear-- + How thou ringest pure and clear! + Though thy beauty hath enthralled me, + Still I'll deepen my delight, + Awed, as if my fathers called me + From the grave's eternal night. + + Ring on ever, tongue of old, + Tongue of lovers, heroes bold! + Rise, old song, though lost for ages, + From thy secret tomb, and go + Live again in sacred pages, + Set all hearts once more aglow. + + Breath of God is everywhere, + Custom sacred here as there. + Yet when I give thanks, am praying, + A beloved heart would seek, + When my highest thoughts I'm saying-- + Then my mother tongue I speak. + + +[Illustration: MAXIMILIAN GOTTFRIED VON SCHENKENDORF] + + * * * * * + + SPRING GREETING TO THE FATHERLAND[15] (1814) + + + Fatherland, thy pleasures greet me + After bondage, war's distress! + I must steep my soul completely + Here in all thy gorgeousness. + Where the oak-trees murmur mildly + With their crowns to heaven raised, + Mighty streams are roaring wildly-- + There the German land be praised. + + From the Rhinefall, all delighted, + I have walked, from Danube's spring; + Mildly, in my soul benighted + Love-stars rose, illumining; + Now I would descend, and brightly + Radiate a joyous shine + Into Neckar's valleys sprightly, + O'er the blue and silver Main. + + Onward fly, my message, bringing + Freedom's greeting evermore, + Far away thou shalt be ringing + By my home on Memel's shore. + Where the German tongue is spoken, + Hearts have fought to make her free-- + Fought right gladly--there unbroken + Stays our sacred Germany. + + All with sunlight seems a-blazing, + All things seem adorned with green-- + Pastures where the herds are grazing, + Hills where ripening grapes are seen. + Such a spring time has not graced thee, + Fatherland, for thousand years; + Glory of thy fathers faced thee + Once in dreams, and now appears. + + Once more weapons must be wielded; + Go, a spirit-fray begin, + Till the latest foe has yielded-- + He who threatens you within. + Passions vile ye should be blighting, + Hate, suspicion, envy, greed-- + Then take, after heavy fighting, + German hearts, the rest ye need. + + Then shall all men be possessing + Honor, humbleness, and might, + And thus only can the blessing + Sent our monarch shine with right. + All the ancient sins must perish-- + In the God-sent deluge all, + And the heritage we cherish + To a worthy heir must fall. + + God has blessed the grain that's growing + And the vineyard's fruit no less; + Men with hunter's joy are glowing; + In the homes reigns happiness. + And our freedom's sure foundation, + Pious longing, fills the breast; + Love that charms in every nation + In our German land is best. + + Ye that are in castles dwelling, + Or in towns that grace our soil, + Farmers that in harvests swelling + Reap the fruits of German toil-- + German brothers dear, united, + Mark my words both old and new! + That our land may stay unblighted, + Keep this concord, and be true! + + * * * * * + + FREEDOM[16] (1815) + + + Freedom that I love, + Shining in my heart, + Come now from above, + Angel that thou art. + + Wilt thou ne'er appear + To the world oppressed? + With thy grace and cheer + Only stars are blessed? + + In the forest gay + When the trees are green, + 'Neath the blooming spray, + Freedom, thou art seen. + + Oh, what dear delight! + Music fills the air, + And thy secret might + Thrills us everywhere, + + When the rustling boughs + Friendly greetings send, + When we lovers' vows + Looks and kisses spend. + + But the heart aspires + Upward evermore, + And our high desires + Ever sky-ward soar. + + From his simple kind + Comes my rustic child, + Shows his heart and mind + To the world beguiled; + + For him gardens bloom, + For him fields have grown, + Even in, the gloom + Of a world of stone. + + Where in that man's breast + Glows a God-sent flame + Who with loyal zest + Loves the ancient name, + + Where the men unite + Valiantly to face + Foes of honor's right-- + There dwells freedom's race. + + Ramparts, brazen doors + Still may bar the light, + Yet the spirit soars + Into regions bright; + + For the fathers' grave, + For the church to fall, + And for dear ones--brave, + True at freedom's call-- + + That indeed is light, + Glowing rosy-red; + Heroes' cheeks grow bright + And more fair when dead. + + Down to us, oh, guide + Heaven's grace, we pray! + In our hearts reside-- + German hearts--to stay! + + Freedom sweet and fair, + Trusting, void of fear, + German nature e'er + Was to thee most clear. + + + + +_LUDWIG UHLAND_ + + * * * * * + + THE CHAPEL[17] (1805) + + + Yonder chapel, on the mountain, + Looks upon a vale of joy; + There, below, by moss and fountain, + Gaily sings the herdsman's boy. + + Hark! Upon the breeze descending, + Sound of dirge and funeral bell; + And the boy, his song suspending, + Listens, gazing from the dell. + + Homeward to the grave they're bringing + Forms that graced the peaceful vale; + Youthful herdsman, gaily singing! + Thus they'll chant thy funeral wail. + + * * * * * + + THE SHEPHERD'S SONG ON THE LORD'S DAY[18] (1805) + + + The Lord's own day is here! + Alone I kneel on this broad plain; + A matin bell just sounds; again + 'Tis silence, far and near. + + Here kneel I on the sod; + O deep amazement, strangely felt! + As though, unseen, vast numbers knelt + And prayed with me to God! + + Yon heav'n afar and near-- + So bright, so glorious seems its cope + As though e'en now its gates would ope-- + The Lord's own day is here! + +[Illustration: LUDWIG UHLAND] + + * * * * * + + THE CASTLE BY THE SEA[19] (1805) + + + Hast thou seen that lordly castle, + That castle by the sea? + Golden and red above it + The clouds float gorgeously. + + And fain it would stoop downward + To the mirrored lake below; + And fain it would soar upward + In the evening's crimson glow. + + Well have I seen that castle, + That castle by the sea, + And the moon above it standing, + And the mist rise solemnly. + + The winds and the waves of ocean-- + Had they a merry chime? + Didst thou hear, from those lofty chambers, + The harp and the minstrel's rhyme? + + The winds and the waves of ocean, + They rested quietly; + But I heard in the gale a sound of wail, + And tears came to mine eye. + + And sawest thou on the turrets + The king and his royal bride, + And the wave of their crimson mantles, + And the golden crown of pride? + + Led they not forth, in rapture, + A beauteous maiden there, + Resplendent as the morning sun, + Beaming with golden hair! + + Well saw I the ancient parents, + Without the crown of pride; + They were moving slow, in weeds of woe-- + No maiden was by their side! + + * * * * * + + SONG OF THE MOUNTAIN BOY[20] (1806) + + + The mountain shepherd-boy am I; + The castles all below me spy. + The sun sends me his earliest beam, + Leaves me his latest, lingering gleam. + I am the boy of the mountain! + + The mountain torrent's home is here, + Fresh from the rock I drink it clear; + As out it leaps with furious force, + I stretch my arms and stop its course. + I am the boy of the mountain! + + I claim the mountain for my own; + In vain the winds around me moan; + From north to south let tempests brawl-- + My song shall swell above them all. + I am the boy of the mountain! + + Thunder and lightning below me lie, + Yet here I stand in upper sky; + I know them well, and cry, "Harm not + My father's lowly, peaceful cot." + I am the boy of the mountain! + + But when I hear the alarm-bell sound, + When watch-fires gleam from the mountains round, + Then down I go and march along, + And swing my sword, and sing my song. + I am the boy of the mountain! + +[Illustration: THE VILLA BY THE SEA From the Painting by Arnold Böcklin] + + * * * * * + + DEPARTURE[21] (1806) + + + What jingles and carols along the street! + Fling open your casements, damsels sweet! + The prentice' friends, they are bearing + The boy on his far wayfaring. + + 'Mid fluttering ribbons and tossing caps, + Full merry the rabble huzzas and claps; + But the boy regards not the token-- + He walks like one heartbroken. + + Full clear clinks the wine-can, full red gleams the wine + "Drink deep and drink deeper, dear brother mine!" + "Oh, have done with the red wine of parting + That burns me within with its smarting!" + + And outside from the cottage, last of all, + A maiden peeps out and her tear-drops fall, + Yet her tear-drops to none she discloses + But forget-me-nots and roses. + + And outside by the cottage, last of all, + The boy glances up at a casement small, + And glances down without greeting. + 'Neath his hand his heart is beating. + + "What, brother! Art lacking a bright nosegay? + See yonder--the beckoning, blossomy spray! + God save thee, thou prettiest sweeting! + Drop down now a nosegay for greeting!" + + "Nay, brothers, pass yonder casement by. + No prettiest sweeting like her have I. + In the sun those blossoms would wither; + The wind it would blow them thither." + + So farther and farther with shout and song! + And the maiden listens and harkens long + "Ah, me! he is flown now beyond me-- + The boy I have loved so fondly! + + And here I stay, with my lonely lot, + With roses, ah!--and forget-me-not, + And he whose heart I'd be sharing-- + He is gone on his far wayfaring!" + + * * * * * + + FAREWELL[22] (1807) + + + Farewell, farewell! From thee + Today, love, must I sever. + One kiss, one kiss give me, + Ere I quit thee forever! + + One blossom from yon tree + O give to me, I pray! + No fruit, no fruit for me! + So long I may not stay. + + +[Illustration: LEAVING AT DAWN] + + * * * * * + + THE HOSTESS' DAUGHTER[23] (1809) + + + Three students had cross'd o'er the Rhine's dark tide; + At the door of a hostel they turned aside. + + "Hast thou, Dame hostess, good ale and wine + And where is thy daughter, so sweet and fine?" + + "My ale and wine are cool and clear; + On her death-bed lieth my daughter dear." + + And when to the chamber they made their way, + In a sable coffin the damsel lay. + + The first--the veil from her face he took, + And gazed upon her with mournful look: + + "Alas! fair maiden--didst thou still live, + To thee my love would I henceforth give!" + + The second--he lightly replaced the shroud, + Then round he turned him, and wept aloud: + + "Thou liest, alas I on thy death-bed here; + I loved thee fondly for many a year!" + + The third--he lifted again the veil, + And gently he kissed those lips so pale: + + "I love thee now, as I loved of yore, + And thus will I love thee forevermore!" + + * * * * * + + THE GOOD COMRADE[24] (1809) + + + I had a gallant comrade, + No better e'er was tried; + The drum beat loud to battle-- + Beside me, to its rattle, + He marched, with equal stride. + + A bullet flies toward us us-- + "Is that for me or thee?" + It struck him, passing o'er me; + I see his corpse before me + As 'twere a part of me! + + And still, while I am loading, + His outstretched hand I view; + "Not now--awhile we sever; + But, when we live forever, + Be still my comrade true!" + + * * * * * + + THE WHITE HART[25] (1811) + + + Three huntsmen forth to the greenwood went; + To hunt the white hart was their intent. + + They laid them under a green fir-tree, + And a singular vision befell those three. + + THE FIRST HUNTSMAN + + I dreamt I arose and beat on the bush, + When forth came rushing the stag--hush, hush! + + THE SECOND + + As with baying of hound he came rushing along, + I fired my gun at his hide--bing, bang! + + THE THIRD + + And when the stag on the ground I saw, + I merrily wound my horn--trara! + + Conversing thus did the huntsmen lie, + When lo! the white hart came bounding by; + + And before the huntsmen had noted him well, + He was up and away over mountain and dell!-- + Hush, hush!--bing, bang!--trara! + + * * * * * + + THE LOST CHURCH[26] (1812) + + + When one into the forest goes, + A music sweet the spirit blesses; + But whence it cometh no one knows, + Nor common rumor even guesses. + From the lost Church those strains must swell + That come on all the winds resounding; + The path to it now none can tell, + That path with pilgrims once abounding. + + As lately, in the forest, where + No beaten path could be discover'd, + All lost in thought, I wander'd far, + Upward to God my spirit hover'd. + When all was silent round me there, + Then in my ears that music sounded; + The higher, purer, rose my prayer, + The nearer, fuller, it resounded. + + Upon my heart such peace there fell, + Those strains with all my thoughts so blended, + That how it was I cannot tell + That I so high that hour ascended. + It seem'd a hundred years and more + That I had been thus lost in dreaming, + When, all earth's vapors op'ning o'er, + A free large place stood, brightly beaming. + + The sky it was so blue and bland, + The sun it was so full and glowing, + As rose a minster vast and grand, + The golden light all round it flowing. + The clouds on which it rested seem'd + To bear it up like wings of fire; + Piercing the heavens, so I dream'd, + Sublimely rose its lofty spire. + + The bell--what music from it roll'd! + Shook, as it peal'd, the trembling tower; + Rung by no mortal hand, but toll'd + By some unseen, unearthly power. + The selfsame power from Heaven thrill'd + My being to its utmost centre, + As, all with fear and gladness fill'd, + Beneath the lofty dome I enter. + + I stood within the solemn pile-- + Words cannot tell with what amazement, + As saints and martyrs seem'd to smile + Down on me from each gorgeous casement. + I saw the picture grow alive, + And I beheld a world of glory, + Where sainted men and women strive + And act again their godlike story. + + Before the altar knelt I low-- + Love and devotion only feeling, + While Heaven's glory seem'd to glow, + Depicted on the lofty ceiling. + Yet when again I upward gazed, + The mighty dome in twain was shaken, + And Heaven's gate wide open blazed, + And every veil away was taken. + + What majesty I then beheld, + My heart with adoration swelling; + What music all my senses fill'd, + Beyond the organ's power of telling, + In words can never be exprest; + Yet for that bliss who longs sincerely, + O let him to the music list, + That in the forest soundeth clearly! + + * * * * * + + CHARLEMAGNE'S VOYAGE[27] (1812) + + + With comrades twelve upon the main + King Charles set out to sail. + The Holy Land he hoped to gain, + But drifted in a gale. + + Then spake Sir Roland, hero brave: + "Well I can fight and shield; + Yet neither stormy wind nor wave + Will to my weapon yield." + + Sir Holger spoke, from Denmark's strand: + "The harp I feign would play; + But what avails the music bland + When tempests roaring sway!" + + Sir Oliver was not too glad; + Upon his sword he'd stare: + "For my own weal 'twere not so bad, + I grieve, for good Old Clare." + + Said wicked Ganilon with gall + (He said it 'neath his breath): + "The devil come and take ye all-- + Were I but spared this death!" + + Archbishop Turpin deeply sighed: + "The knights of God are we. + O come, our Savior, be our guide, + And lead us o'er the sea!" + + Then spake Sir Richard Fearless stern: + "Ye demons there in hell, + I served ye many a goodly turn, + Now serve ye me as well!" + + "My counsel often has been heard," + Sir Naimes did remark. + "Fresh water, though, and helpful word + Are rare upon a bark." + + Then spake Sir Riol, old and gray: + "An aged knight am I; + And they shall lay my corpse away + Where it is good and dry." + + And then Sir Guy began to sing-- + He was a courtly knight: + "Feign would I have a birdie's wing, + And to my love take flight!" + + Then Count Garein, the noble, said: + "God, danger from us keep! + I'd rather drink the wine so red + Than water in the deep." + + Sir Lambert spake, a sprightly youth: + "May God behold our state! + I'd rather eat good fish, forsooth, + Than be myself a bait." + + Then quoth Sir Gottfried: "Be it so, + I heed not how I fare; + Whatever I must undergo, + My brothers all would share." + + But at the helm King Charles sat by, + And never said a word, + And steered the ship with steadfast eye + Till no more tempest stirred. + + * * * * * + + FREE ART[28] (1812) + + Thou, whom song was given, sing + In the German poets' wood! + When all boughs with music ring-- + Then is life and pleasure good. + + Nay, this art doth not belong + To a small and haughty band; + Scattered are the seeds of song + All about the German land. + + Music set thy passions free + From the heart's confining cage; + Let thy love like murmurs be, + And like thunder-storm thy rage! + + Singest thou not all thy days, + Joy of youth should make thee sing. + Nightingales pour forth their lays + In the blooming months of spring! + + Though in books they hold not fast + What the hour to thee imparts, + Leaves unto the breezes cast, + To be seized by youthful hearts! + + Fare thou well, thou secret lore: + Necromancy, Alchemy! + Formulas shall bind no more, + And our art is poesy. + + Names we deem but empty air; + Spirits we revere alone; + Though we honor masters rare. + Art is free--it is our own! + + Not in haunts of marble chill, + Temples drear where ancients trod-- + Nay, in oaks on woody hill, + Lives and moves the German God. + + * * * * * + + TAILLEFER[29] (1812) + + + Duke William of the Normans spoke unto his servants all: + "Who is it sings so sweetly in the court and in the hall? + Who sings from early morn till the house is still at night + So sweetly that he fills my heart with laughter and delight?" + + "'Tis Taillefer," they answered him, "so joyously that sings + Within the courtyard, as the wheel above the well he swings, + And when the fire upon the hearth he stirs to burn more bright, + And when he rises to his toil or lays him down at night." + + Then spoke the Duke, "In him I trow I have a faithful knave-- + This Taillefer that serves me here, so loyal and so brave; + He turns the wheel and stirs the fire with willing, sturdy arm, + And, best of all, with blithesome song he knows my heart to charm." + + Then out spake lusty Taillefer, "Ah, lord, if I were free, + Far better would I serve thee then, and gladly sing to thee. + How on my stately charger would I serve thee in the field, + How sing before thee cheerily, with clang of sword and shield!" + + The days went by, and Taillefer rode out as rides a knight + Upon a prancing charger borne, a gay and gallant sight; + And from the tower looked down on him Duke William's sister fair, + And softly murmured, "By my troth, a stately knight goes there!" + + When as he rode before the tower, and spied her harkening, + Now sang he like a driving storm, now like a breeze of spring; + She cried, "To hear that wondrous song is of all joys the best-- + The very stones they tremble, and the heart within my breast." + + And now the Duke has called his men and crossed the salt sea-foam; + With gallant knights and vassals bold to England he has come. + And as he sprang from out the ship, he slipped upon the strand, + And "By this token, thus," he cried, "I seize a subject land!" + + And now on Hastings field arrayed, the host for fight prepare; + Before the Duke reins up his horse the valiant Taillefer: + "If I have sung and blown the fire for many a weary year, + And since for other years have borne the knightly shield and spear, + + "If I have sung and served thee well, and praises won from thee, + First as a lowly knave and then a warrior, bold and free, + Today I claim my guerdon just, that all the host may know-- + To ride the foremost to the field, strike first against the foe!" + + So Taillefer rode on before the glittering Norman line + Upon his stately steed, and waved a sword of temper fine; + Above the embattled plain his song rang all the tumult o'er-- + Of Roland's knightly deeds he sang and many a hero more. + + And as the noble song of old with tempest-might swelled out, + The banners waved and knights pressed on with war-cry and with shout; + And every heart among the host throbbed prouder still and higher, + And still through all sang Taillefer, and blew the battle-fire. + + Then forward, lance in rest, against the waiting foe he dashed, + And at the shock an English knight from out the saddle crashed; + Anon he swung his sword and struck a grim and grisly blow, + And on the ground beneath his feet an English knight lay low. + + The Norman host his prowess saw, and followed him full fain; + With joyful shouts and clang of shields the whole field rang again, + And shrill and fast the arrows sped, and swords made merry play-- + Until at last King Harold fell, his stubborn carles gave way. + + The Duke his banner planted high upon the bloody plain, + And pitched his tent a conqueror amid the heaps of slain; + Then with his captains sat at meat, the wine-cup in his hand, + Upon his head the royal crown of all the English land. + + "Come hither, valiant Taillefer, and drink a cup with me! + Full oft thy song has soothed my grief, made merrier my glee; + But all my life I still shall hear the battle-shout that pealed + Above the noise of clashing arms today on Hastings field!" + + * * * * * + + SUABIAN LEGEND[30] (1814) + + + When Emperor Redbeard with his band + Came marching through the Holy Land, + He had to lead, the way to seek, + His noble force o'er mountains bleak. + Of bread there rose a painful need, + Though stones were plentiful indeed, + And many a German rider fine + Forgot the taste of mead and wine. + The horses drooped from meagre fare, + The rider had to hold his mare. + There was a knight from Suabian land + Of noble build and mighty hand; + His little horse was faint and ill, + He dragged it by the bridle still; + His steed he never would forsake, + Though his own life should be at stake. + And so the horseman had to stay + Behind the band a little way. + Then all at once, right in his course, + Pranced fifty Turkish men on horse. + And straight a swarm of arrows flew; + Their spears as well the riders threw. + Our Suabian brave felt no dismay, + And calmly marched along his way. + His shield was stuck with arrows o'er, + He sneered and looked about--no more; + Till one, whom all this pastime bored, + Above him swung a crooked sword. + The German's blood begins to boil, + He aims the Turkish steed to foil, + And off he knocks with hit so neat + The Turkish charger's two fore-feet. + And now that he has felled the horse, + He grips his sword with double force + And swings it on the rider's crown + And splits him to the saddle down; + He hews the saddle into bits, + And e'en the charger's back he splits. + See, falling to the right and left, + Half of a Turk that has been cleft! + The others shudder at the sight + And hie away in frantic flight, + And each one feels, with gruesome dread, + That he is split through trunk and head. + A band of Christians, left behind, + Came down the road, his work to find; + And they admired, one by one, + The deed our hero bold had done. + From these the Emperor heard it all, + And bade his men the Suabian call, + Then spake: "Who taught thee, honored knight, + With hits like those you dealt, to fight?" + Our hero said, without delay + "These hits are just the Suabian way. + Throughout the realm all men admit, + The Suabians always make a hit." + + * * * * * + + THE BLIND KING[31] (1804, 1814) + + + Why stands uncovered that northern host + High on the seaboard there? + Why seeks the old blind king the coast, + With his white, wild-fluttering hair? + He, leaning on his staff the while, + His bitter grief outpours, + Till across the bay the rocky isle + Sounds from its caverned shores. + + "From the dungeon-rock, thou robber, bring + My daughter back again! + Her gentle voice, her harp's sweet string + Soothed an old father's pain. + From the dance along the green shore + Thou hast borne her o'er the wave; + Eternal shame light on thy head; + Mine trembles o'er the grave." + + Forth from his cavern, at the word, + The robber comes, all steeled, + Swings in the air his giant sword, + And strikes his sounding shield. + "A goodly guard attends thee there; + Why suffered they the wrong? + Is there none will be her champion + Of all that mighty throng?" + + Yet from that host there comes no sound; + They stand unmoved as stone; + The blind king seems to gaze around; + Am I all, all alone?" + "Not all alone!" His youthful son + Grasps his right hand so warm-- + "Grant me to meet this vaunting foe! + Heaven's might inspires my arm." + + "O son! it is a giant foe; + There's none will take thy part; + Yet by this hand's warm grasp, I know + Thine is a manly heart. + Here, take the trusty battle-sword-- + 'Twas the old minstrel's prize;-- + If thou art slain, far down the flood + Thy poor old father dies!" + + And hark! a skiff glides swiftly o'er, + With plashing, spooming sound; + The king stands listening on the shore; + 'Tis silent all around-- + Till soon across the bay is borne + The sound of shield and sword, + And battle-cry, and clash, and clang, + And crashing blows, are heard. + + With trembling joy then cried the king: + "Warrior! what mark you? Tell! + 'Twas my good sword; I heard it ring; + I know its tone right well." + "The robber falls; a bloody meed + His daring crime hath won; + Hail to thee, first of heroes! hail! + Thou monarch's worthy son!" + + Again 'tis silent all around; + Listens the king once more; + "I hear across the bay the sound + As of a plashing oar." + Yes, it is they!--They come!--They come-- + Thy son, with spear and shield, + And thy daughter fair, with golden hair, + The sunny-bright Gunild." + + "Welcome!" exclaims the blind old man, + From the rock high o'er the wave; + "Now my old age is blest again; + Honored shall be my grave. + Thou, son, shalt lay the sword I wore + Beside the blind old king. + And thou, Gunilda, free once more, + My funeral song shalt sing." + + * * * * * + + THE MINSTREL'S CURSE[32] (1814) + + + Once in olden times was standing + A castle, high and grand, + Broad glancing in the sunlight, + Far over sea and land. + And round were fragrant gardens, + A rich and blooming crown; + And fountains, playing in them, + In rainbow brilliance shone. + + There a haughty king was seated, + In lands and conquests great; + Pale and awful was his countenance, + As on his throne he sate; + For what he thinks, is terror, + And what he looks, is wrath, + And what he speaks, is torture, + And what he writes, is death. + And 'gainst a marble pillar + He shiver'd it in twain; + And thus his curse he shouted, + Till the castle rang again: + + "Woe, woe, thou haughty castle, + With all thy gorgeous halls! + Sweet string or song be sounded + No more within thy walls. + No, sighs alone, and wailing, + And the coward steps of slaves! + Already round thy towers + The avenging spirit raves! + + "Woe, woe, ye fragrant gardens, + With all your fair May light! + Look on this ghastly countenance, + And wither at the sight! + Let all your flowers perish! + Be all your fountains dry! + Henceforth a horrid wilderness, + Deserted, wasted, lie! + + "Woe, woe, thou wretched murderer, + Thou curse of minstrelsy! + Thy struggles for a bloody fame, + All fruitless shall they be. + Thy name shall be forgotten, + Lost in eternal death, + Dissolving into empty air + Like a dying man's last breath!" + + The old man's curse is utter'd, + And Heaven above hath heard. + Those walls have fallen prostrate + At the minstrel's mighty word. + Of all that vanish'd splendor + Stands but one column tall; + And that, already shatter'd, + Ere another night may fall. + + Around, instead of gardens, + In a desert heathen land, + No tree its shade dispenses, + No fountains cool the sand. + The king's name, it has vanish'd; + His deeds no songs rehearse; + Departed and forgotten-- + This is the minstrel's curse. + + * * * * * + + THE LUCK OF EDENHALL[33] (1834) + + + Of Edenhall the youthful lord + Bids sound the festal trumpets' call; + He rises at the banquet board, + And cries, 'mid the drunken revelers all, + "Now bring me the Luck of Edenhall!" + + The butler hears the words with pain-- + The house's oldest seneschal-- + Takes slow from its silken cloth again + The drinking glass of crystal tall; + They call it the Luck of Edenhall. + + Then said the lord, "This glass to praise, + Fill with red wine from Portugal!" + The graybeard with trembling hand obeys; + A purple light shines over all; + It beams from the Luck of Edenhall. + + Then speaks the lord, and waves it light-- + "This glass of flashing crystal tall + Gave to my sires the Fountain-Sprite; + She wrote in it, 'If this glass doth fall, + Farewell then, O Luck of Edenhall!'" + + "'Twas right a goblet the fate should be + Of the joyous race of Edenhall! + We drink deep draughts right willingly; + And willingly ring, with merry call, + Kling! klang! to the Luck of Edenhall!" + + First rings it deep, and full, and mild, + Like to the song of a nightingale; + Then like the roar of a torrent wild; + Then mutters, at last, like the thunder's fall, + The glorious Luck of Edenhall. + + "For its keeper, takes a race of might + The fragile goblet of crystal tall; + It has lasted longer than is right; + Kling! klang!--with a harder blow than all + We'll try the Luck of Edenhall!" + + As the goblet, ringing, flies apart, + Suddenly cracks the vaulted hall; + And through the rift the flames upstart; + The guests in dust are scattered all + With the breaking Luck of Edenhall! + + In storms the foe with fire and sword! + He in the night had scaled the wall; + Slain by the sword lies the youthful lord, + But holds in his hand the crystal tall, + The shattered Luck of Edenhall. + + On the morrow the butler gropes alone, + The graybeard, in the desert hall; + He seeks his lord's burnt skeleton; + He seeks in the dismal ruin's fall + The shards of the Luck of Edenhall. + + "The stone wall," saith he, "doth fall aside; + Down must the stately columns fall; + Glass is this earth's Luck and Pride; + In atoms shall fall this earthly hall, + One day, like the Luck of Edenhall!" + + * * * * * + + ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD[34] (1859) + + + You came, you went, as angels go, + A fleeting guest within our land. + Whence and where to?--We only know: + Forth from God's hand into God's hand. + + + + +_JOSEPH VON EICHENDORFF_ + + * * * * * + + THE BROKEN RING[35] (1810) + + + Down in yon cool valley + I hear a mill-wheel go: + Alas! my love has left me, + Who once dwelt there below. + + A ring of gold she gave me, + And vowed she would be true; + The vow long since was broken, + The gold ring snapped in two. + + I would I were a minstrel, + To rove the wide world o'er, + And sing afar my measures, + And rove from door to door; + + Or else a soldier, flying + Deep into furious fight, + By silent camp-fires lying + A-field in gloomy night. + + Hear I the mill-wheel going: + I know not what I will; + 'Twere best if I were dying-- + Then all were calm and still. + +[Illustration: JOSEPH VON EICHENDORFF] + + * * * * * + + MORNING PRAYER[36] (1833) + + + O silence, wondrous and profound! + O'er earth doth solitude still reign; + The woods alone incline their heads, + As if the Lord walked o'er the plain. + + I feel new life within me glow; + Where now is my distress and care? + Here in the blush of waking morn, + I blush at yesterday's despair. + + To me, a pilgrim, shall the world, + With all its joy and sorrows, be + But as a bridge that leads, O Lord, + Across the stream of time to Thee. + + And should my song woo worldly gifts, + The base rewards of vanity-- + Dash down my lyre! I'll hold my peace + Before thee to eternity. + + + + +FROM THE LIFE OF A GOOD-FOR-NOTHING (1826) + +BY JOSEPH VON EICHENDORFF TRANSLATED BY MRS. A.L.W. WISTER + +CHAPTER I + + +The wheel of my father's mill was once more turning and whirring +merrily, the melting snow trickled steadily from the roof, the +sparrows chirped and hopped about, as I, taking great delight in the +warm sunshine, sat on the door-step and rubbed my eyes to rid them +of sleep. Then my father made his appearance; he had been busy in the +mill since daybreak, and his nightcap was all awry as he said to me-- + +You Good-for-nothing! There you sit sunning yourself, and stretching +yourself till your bones crack, leaving me to do all the work alone. I +can keep you here no longer. Spring is at hand. Off with you into the +world and earn your own bread!" + +"Well," said I, "all right; if I am a Good-for-nothing, I will go +forth into the world and make my fortune." In fact, I was very glad to +have my father speak thus, for I myself had been thinking of starting +on my travels; the yellow-hammer, which all through the autumn and +winter had been chirping sadly at our window, "Farmer, hire me; +farmer, hire me," was, now that the lovely spring weather had set in, +once more piping cheerily from the old tree, "Farmer, nobody wants +your work." So I went into the house and took down from the wall my +fiddle, on which I could play quite skilfully; my father gave me a +few pieces of money to set me on my way; and I sauntered off along +the village street. I was filled with secret joy as I saw all my old +acquaintances and comrades right and left going to their work digging +and ploughing, just as they had done yesterday and the day before, +and so on, whilst I was roaming out into the wide world. I called +out "Good-by!" to the poor people on all sides, but no one took much +notice of me. A perpetual Sabbath seemed to reign in my soul, and when +I got out among the fields I took out my dear fiddle and played and +sang, as I walked along the country road-- + + "The favored ones, the loved of Heaven, + God sends to roam the world at will; + His wonders to their gaze are given + By field and forest, stream and hill. + + "The dullards who at home are staying + Are not refreshed by morning's ray; + They grovel, earth-born calls obeying, + And petty cares beset their day. + + "The little brooks o'er rocks are springing, + The lark's gay carol fills the air; + Why should not I with them be singing + A joyous anthem free from care? + + "I wander on, in God confiding, + For all are His, wood, field, and fell; + O'er earth and skies He, still presiding, + For me will order all things well." + +As I was looking around, a fine traveling-carriage drove along very +near me; it had probably been just behind me for some time without +my perceiving it, so filled with melody had I been, for it was going +quite slowly, and two elegant ladies had their heads out of the +window, listening. One was especially beautiful, and younger than the +other, but both pleased me extremely. When I stopped singing the elder +ordered the coachman to stop his horses, and accosted me with great +condescension: "Aha, my merry lad, you know how to sing very pretty +songs!" I, nothing loath, replied, "Please Your Grace, I know some +far prettier." "And where are you going so early in the morning?" she +asked. I was ashamed to confess that I did not myself know, and so I +said, boldly, "To Vienna." The two ladies then talked together in a +strange tongue which I did not understand. The younger shook her head +several times, but the other only laughed, and finally called to me, +"Jump up behind; we too are going to Vienna." Who more ready than I! +I made my best bow, and sprang up behind the carriage, the coachman +cracked his whip, and away we bowled along the smooth road so swiftly +that the wind whistled in my ears. + +Behind me vanished my native village with its gardens and +church-tower, before me appeared fresh villages, castles, and +mountains, beneath me on either side the meadows in the tender green +of spring flew past, and above me countless larks were soaring in the +blue air. I was ashamed to shout aloud, but I exulted inwardly, +and shuffled about so on the foot-board behind the carriage that I +well-nigh lost my fiddle from under my arm. But when the sun rose +higher in the sky, while heavy, white, noonday clouds gathered on the +horizon, and the air hung sultry and still above the gently-waving +grain, I could not but remember my village and my father, and our +mill, and how cool and comfortable it was beside the shady mill-pool, +and how far, far away from me it all was. And the most curious +sensation overcame me; I felt as if I must turn and run back; but I +stuck my fiddle between my coat and my vest, settled myself on the +foot-board, and went to sleep. + +When I opened my eyes again, the carriage was standing beneath tall +linden-trees, on the other side of which a broad flight of steps led +between columns into a magnificent castle. Through the trees beyond +I saw the towers of Vienna. The ladies, it appeared, had left the +carriage, and the horses had been unharnessed. I was startled to find +myself alone, and I hurried into the castle. As I did so I heard some +one at a window above laughing. + +An odd time I had in this castle. First, as soon as I found myself in +the cool, spacious vestibule, some one tapped me on the shoulder with +a stick. I turned quickly about, and there stood a tall gentleman in +state apparel, with a broad bandolier of silk and gold crossing his +breast from his shoulder to his hip, a staff in his hand, gilded at +the top, and an extraordinarily large Roman nose; he strutted up to +me, swelling like a ruled-up turkey-cock, and asked me what I wanted +there. I was taken entirely aback, and in my confusion was unable +to utter a word. Several servants passed, going up and down the +staircase; they said nothing, but eyed me superciliously. Then +a lady's-maid appeared; she came up to me, declared that I was a +charming young fellow, and that her mistress had sent to ask me if +I did not want a place as gardener's boy. I put my hand in my +pocket--the few coins I had possessed were gone. They must have been +jerked out by my shuffling on the foot-board behind the carriage. I +had nothing to depend upon save my skill with the fiddle, for which +the gentleman with the staff, as he informed me in passing, would not +give a farthing. Therefore, in my distress, I said "yes" to the maid, +keeping my eyes fixed the while upon the portentous figure pacing +the hall to and fro like the pendulum of a clock in a church-tower, +appearing from the background with imposing majesty and with unfailing +regularity. At last a gardener came, muttering something about boors +and vagabonds, and led me off to the garden, preaching me a long +sermon on the way about my being diligent and industrious and never +loitering about the world any more, and how, if I would give up all my +idle and foolish ways, I might come to some good in the end. There was +a great deal of exhortation in this strain, very good and useful, but +I have since forgotten it nearly all. In fact, I really hardly know +how it all came about; I went on saying "yes" to everything, and I +felt like a bird with its wings clipped. But, thank God, in the end I +was earning my living! + +I found life delightful in that garden. I had a hot dinner every day +and plenty of it, and more money than I needed for my glass of wine, +only, unfortunately, I had quite a deal to do. The pavilions, and +arbors, and long green walks delighted me, if I could only have +sauntered about and talked pleasantly like the gentlemen and ladies +who came there every day. Whenever the gardener was away and I was +alone, I took out my short tobacco-pipe, sat down, and thought of all +the beautiful, polite things with which I could have entertained +that lovely young lady who had brought me to the castle, had I been a +cavalier walking beside her. Or on sultry afternoons I lay on my +back on the grass, when all was so quiet that you could hear the bees +humming, and I gazed up at the clouds sailing away toward my native +village, and around me at the waving grass and flowers, and thought of +the lovely lady; and it sometimes chanced that I really saw her in the +distance walking in the garden, with her guitar or a book, tall and +beautiful as an angel, and I was only half conscious whether I were +awake or dreaming. + +Thus, once as I was passing a summer-house on my way to work, I was +singing to myself-- + + "I gaze around me, going + By forest, dale, and lea, + O'er heights where streams are flowing, + My every thought bestowing, + Ah, Lady fair, on thee!"-- + +when, through the half-opened lattice of the cool, dark summer-house +buried amid flowers, I saw the sparkle of a pair of beautiful, +youthful eyes. I was so startled that I could not finish my song, but +passed on to my work without looking round. + +In the evening--it was Saturday, and, in joyous anticipation of the +coming Sunday, I was standing, fiddle in hand, at the window of +the gardener's house, still thinking of the sparkling eyes--the +lady's-maid came tripping through the twilight--"The gracious Lady +fair sends you this to drink her health, and a 'Good-Night' besides!" +And in a twinkling she put a flask of wine on the window-sill and +vanished among the flowers and shrubs like a lizard. + +I stood looking at the wonderful flask for a long time, not knowing +what to think. And if before I played the fiddle merrily, I now +played it ten times more so, and I sang the song of the Lady fair all +through, and all the other songs that I knew, until the nightingales +wakened outside and the moon and stars lit up the garden. Ah, that was +a lovely night! + +No cradle-song tells the child's future; a blind hen finds many a +grain of wheat; he laughs best who laughs last; the unexpected often +happens; man proposes, God disposes: thus did I meditate the next day, +sitting in the garden with my pipe, and as I looked down at myself I +seemed to myself to be a downright dunce. Contrary to all my habits +hitherto, I now rose betimes every day, before the gardener and the +other assistants were stirring. It was most beautiful then in the +garden. The flowers, the fountains, the rose-bushes, the whole place, +glittered in the morning sunshine like pure gold and jewels. And in +the avenues of huge beeches it was as quiet, cool, and solemn as +a church, only the little birds fluttered around and pecked in the +gravel paths. In front of the castle, just under the windows, there +was a large bush in full bloom. Thither I used to go in the early +morning, and crouch down beneath the branches where I could watch the +windows, for I had not the courage to appear in the open. Thence I +sometimes saw the Lady fair in a snow-white robe come, still drowsy +and warm, to the open window. She would stand there braiding her +dark-brown hair, gazing abroad over the garden and shrubbery, or she +would tend and water the flowers upon her window-sill, or would rest +her guitar upon her white arm and sing out into the clear air so +wondrously that to this day my heart faints with sadness when one of +her songs recurs to me. And ah, it was all so long ago! + +So my life passed for a week and more. But once--she was standing at +the window and all was quiet around--a confounded fly flew directly +up my nose, and I was seized with an interminable fit of sneezing. +She leaned far out of the window and discovered me cowering in the +shrubbery. I was overcome with mortification and did not go there +again for many a day. + +At last I ventured to return to my post, but the window remained +closed. I hid in the bushes for four, five, six mornings, but she did +not appear. Then I grew tired of my hiding-place and came out boldly, +and every morning promenaded bravely beneath all the windows of the +castle. But the lovely Lady fair was not to be seen. At a window a +little farther on I saw the other lady standing; I had never before +seen her so distinctly. She had a fine rosy face, and was plump, and +as gorgeously attired as a tulip. I always made her a low bow, and she +acknowledged it, and her eyes twinkled very kindly and courteously. +Once only, I thought I saw the Lady fair standing behind the curtain +at her window, peeping out. + +Many days passed and I did not see her, either in the garden or at +the window. The gardener scolded me for laziness; I was out of humor, +tired of myself and of all about me. + +I was lying on the grass one Sunday afternoon, watching the blue +wreaths of smoke from my pipe, and fretting because I had not chosen +some other trade which would not have bored me so day after day. +The other fellows had all gone off to the dance in the neighboring +village. Every one was strolling about in Sunday attire, the houses +were gay, and there was melody in the very air. But I walked off and +sat solitary, like a bittern among the reeds, by a lonely pond in the +garden, rocking myself in a little skiff tied there, while the vesper +bells sounded faintly from the town and the swans glided to and fro on +the placid water. A sadness as of death possessed me. + +On a sudden I heard, in the distance, voices talking gaily, and bursts +of merry laughter. They sounded nearer and nearer, and red and white +kerchiefs and hats and feathers were visible through the shrubbery. A +party of gentlemen and ladies were coming from the castle, across the +meadow, directly toward me, and my two ladies among them. I stood up +and was about to retire, when the elder perceived me. "Aha, you are +just what we want!" she called to me, smiling. "Row us across the +pond to the other side." The ladies cautiously took their seats in +the boat, assisted by the gentlemen, who made quite a parade of their +familiarity with the water. When all the ladies were seated, I pushed +off from the shore. One of the young gentlemen who stood in the prow +began, unperceived, to rock the boat. The ladies looked frightened, +and one or two screamed. The Lady fair, who had a lily in her hand, +and was sitting well in the centre of the skiff, looked down with a +quiet smile into the clear water, touching the surface of the pond now +and then with a lily, her image, amid the reflections of the clouds +and trees, appearing like an angel soaring gently through the deep +blue skies. + +As I was gazing at her, the other of my two ladies, the plump, merry +one, suddenly took it into her head that I must sing as we glided +along. A very elegant young gentleman with an eye-glass, who sat +beside her, instantly turned to her, and, as he kissed her hand, said, +"Thanks for the poetic idea! A folk-song sung by one of the people in +the open air is an Alpine rose, upon the very Alps--the Alpine horns +are nothing but herbaria--the soul of the national consciousness." +But I said I did not know anything fine enough to sing to such great +people. Then the pert lady's-maid, who was beside me with a basket of +cups and bottles, and whom I had not perceived before, said, "He knows +a very pretty little song about a lady fair." "Yes, yes, sing that +one!" the lady exclaimed. I felt hot all over, and the Lady fair +lifted her eyes from the water and gave me a look that went to my very +soul. So I did not hesitate any longer, but took heart and sang with +all my might might-- + + "I gaze around me, going + By forest, dale, and lea, + O'er heights where streams are flowing, + My every thought bestowing, + Ah, Lady fair, on thee! + + "And in my garden, finding + Bright flowers fresh and rare, + While many a wreath I'm binding, + Sweet thoughts therein I'm winding + Of thee, my Lady fair. + + "For me 'twould be too daring + To lay them at her feet. + They'll soon away be wearing, + But love beyond comparing + Is thine, my Lady sweet. + + "In early morning waking, + I toil with ready smile, + And though my heart be breaking, + I'll sing to hide its aching, + And dig my grave the while." + +The boat touched the shore, and all the party got out; many of the +young gentlemen, as I had perceived, had made game of me in whispers +to the ladies while I was singing. The gentleman with the eye-glass +took my hand as he left the boat, and said something to me, I do not +remember what, and the elder of my two ladies gave me a kindly glance. +The Lady fair had never raised her eyes all the time I was singing, +and she went away without a word. As for me, before my song was ended +the tears stood in my eyes; my heart seemed like to burst with shame +and misery. I understood now for the first time how beautiful she +was, and how poor and despised and forsaken I, and when they had all +disappeared behind the bushes I could contain myself no longer, but +threw myself down on the grass and wept bitterly. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +The highroad was close on one side of the castle garden, and separated +from it only by a high wall. A very pretty little toll-house with a +red-tiled roof stood near, with a gay little flower-garden inclosed by +a picket-fence behind it. A breach in the wall connected this garden +with the most secluded and shady part of the castle garden itself. The +toll-gate keeper who occupied the cottage died suddenly, and early one +morning, when I was still sound asleep, the Secretary from the castle +waked me in a great hurry and bade me come immediately to the +Bailiff. I dressed myself as quickly as I could and followed the brisk +Secretary, who, as we went, plucked a flower here and there and stuck +it into his button-hole, made scientific lunges in the air with his +cane, and talked steadily to me all the while, although my eyes and +ears were so filled with sleep that I could not understand anything +he said. When we reached the office, where as yet it was hardly light, +the Bailiff, behind a huge inkstand and piles of books and papers, +looked at me from out of his huge wig like an owl from out its nest, +and began: "What's your name? Where do you come from? Can you read, +write, and cipher?" And when I assented, he went on, "Well, her +Grace, in consideration of your good manners and extraordinary merit, +appoints you to the vacant post of Receiver of Toll." I hurriedly +passed in mental review the conduct and manners that had hitherto +distinguished me, and was forced to admit that the Bailiff was right. +And so, before I knew it, I was Receiver of Toll. I took possession of +my dwelling, and was soon comfortably established there. The deceased +toll-gate keeper had left behind him for his successor various +articles, which I appropriated, among others a magnificent scarlet +dressing-gown dotted with yellow, a pair of green slippers, a tasseled +nightcap, and several long-stemmed pipes. I had often wished for +these things at home, where I used to see our village pastor thus +comfortably provided. All day long, therefore--I had nothing else to +do--I sat on the bench before my house in dressing-gown and nightcap, +smoking the longest pipe from the late toll-gate keeper's collection, +and looking at the people walking, driving, and riding on the +high-road. I only wished that some of the folks from our village, who +had always said that I never would be worth anything, might happen to +pass by and see me thus. The dressing-gown became my complexion, and +suited me extremely well. So I sat there and pondered many things--the +difficulty of all beginnings, the great advantages of an easier mode +of existence, for example--and privately resolved to give up travel +for the future, save money like other people, and in time do something +really great in the world. Meanwhile, with all my resolves, anxieties, +and occupations, I in no wise forgot the Lady fair. + +I dug up and threw out of my little garden all the potatoes and +other vegetables that I found there, and planted it instead with the +choicest flowers, which proceeding caused the Porter from the castle +with the big Roman nose--who since I had been made Receiver often came +to see me, and had become my intimate friend--to eye me askance as a +person crazed by sudden good fortune. But that did not deter me. For +from my little garden I could often hear feminine voices not far off +in the castle garden, and among them I thought I could distinguish +the voice of my Lady fair, although, because of the thick shrubbery, +I could see nobody. And so every day I plucked a nosegay of my finest +flowers, and when it was dark in the evening, I climbed over the wall +and laid it upon a marble table in an arbor near by, and every time +that I brought a fresh nosegay the old one was gone from the table. + +One evening all the castle inmates were away hunting; the sun was just +setting, flooding the landscape with flame and color, the Danube wound +toward the horizon like a band of gold and fire, and the vine-dressers +on all the hills throughout the country were glad and gay. I was +sitting with the Porter on the bench before my cottage, enjoying the +mild air and the gradual fading to twilight of the brilliant day. +Suddenly the horns of the returning hunting-party sounded on the +air; the notes were tossed from hill to hill by the echoes. My soul +delighted in it all, and I sprang up and exclaimed, in an intoxication +of joy, "That is what I ought to follow in life, the huntsman's noble +calling!" But the Porter quietly knocked the ashes out of his pipe and +said, "You only think so; I've tried it. You hardly earn the shoes you +wear out, and you're never without a cough or a cold from perpetually +getting your feet wet." I cannot tell how it was, but upon hearing him +speak thus, I was seized with such a fit of foolish rage that I fairly +trembled. On a sudden the entire fellow, with his bedizened coat, his +big feet, his snuff, his big nose, and everything about him, became +odious to me. Quite beside myself, I seized him by the breast of his +coat and said, "Home with you, Porter, on the instant, or I'll send +you there in a way you won't like!" At these words the Porter was +more than ever convinced that I was crazy. He gazed at me with evident +fear, extricated himself from my grasp, and went without a word, +looking reproachfully back at me, and striding toward the castle, +where he reported me as stark, staring mad. + +But after all I burst into a hearty laugh, glad in fact to be rid of +the pompous fellow, for it was just the hour when I was wont to carry +my nosegay to the arbor. I clambered over the wall, and was just about +to place the flowers on the marble table, when I heard the sound of a +horse's hoofs at some distance. There was no time for escape; my Lady +fair was riding slowly along the avenue in a green hunting-habit, +apparently lost in thought. All that I had read in an old book of my +father's about the beautiful Magelona came into my head--how she used +to appear among the tall forest-trees, when horns were echoing and +evening shadows were flitting through the glades. I could not +stir from the spot. She started when she perceived me and paused +involuntarily. I was as if intoxicated with intense joy, dread, and +the throbbing of my heart, and when I saw that she actually wore at +her breast the flowers I had left yesterday, I could no longer keep +silent, but said in a rapture, "Fairest Lady fair, accept these +flowers too, and all the flowers in my garden, and everything I have! +Ah, if I could only brave some danger for you!" At first she had +looked at me so gravely, almost angrily, that I shivered, but then +she cast down her eyes, and did not lift them while I was speaking. At +that moment voices and the tramp of horses were heard in the distance. +She snatched the flowers from my hand, and without saying a word, +swiftly vanished at the end of the avenue. + +After this evening I had neither rest nor peace. I felt continually, +as I had always felt when spring was at hand, restless and merry, and +as if some great good fortune or something extraordinary were about +to befall me. My wretched accounts in especial never would come right, +and when the sunshine, playing among the chestnut boughs before my +window, cast golden-green gleams upon my figures, illuminating "Bro't +over" and "Total," my addition grew sometimes so confused that I +actually could not count three. The figure "eight" always looked to +me like my stout, tightly-laced lady with the gay head-dress, and +the provoking "seven" like a finger-post pointing the wrong way, or a +gallows. The "nine" was the queerest, suddenly, before I knew what it +was about, standing on its head to look like "six," whilst "two" would +turn into a pert interrogation-point, as if to ask me, "What in the +world is to become of you, you poor zero? Without the others, the +slender 'one' and all the rest, you never can come to anything!" + +I had no longer any ease in sitting before my door. I took out a stool +to make myself more comfortable, and put my feet upon it; I patched up +an old parasol, and held it over me like a Chinese pleasure-dome. But +all would not do. As I sat smoking and speculating, my legs seemed +to stretch to twice their size from weariness, and my nose lengthened +visibly as I looked down at it for hours. And when sometimes, before +daybreak, an express drove up, and I went out, half asleep, into the +cool air, and a pretty face, but dimly seen in the dawning except for +its sparkling eyes, looked out at me from the coach window and kindly +bade me good-morning, while from the villages around the cock's clear +crow echoed across the fields of gently-waving grain, and an early +lark, high in the skies among the flushes of morning, soared here and +there, and the Postilion wound his horn and blew, and blew--as the +coach drove off, I would stand looking after it, feeling as if I could +not but start off with it on the instant into the wide, wide world. + +I still took my flowers every day, when the sun had set, to the marble +table in the dim arbor. But since that evening all had been over. Not +a soul took any notice of them, and when I went to look after them +early the next morning, there they lay as I had left them, gazing +sadly at me with their heads hanging, and the dew-drops glistening +upon their fading petals as if they were weeping. This distressed me, +and I plucked no more flowers. I let the weeds grow in my garden as +they pleased, and the flowers stayed on their stalks until the wind +blew them away. Within me there were the same desolation and neglect. + +In this critical state of affairs it happened once that, as I was +leaning out of my window gazing dully into vacancy, the lady's-maid +from the castle came tripping across the road. When she saw me she +came and stood just outside the window. "His Grace returned from +his travels yesterday," she remarked, hurriedly. "Indeed!" I said, +surprised, for I had taken no interest in anything for several weeks, +and did not even know that his Grace had been traveling. "Then his +lovely daughter will be very glad." The maid looked at me with a +strange expression of face, so that I began to wonder whether I had +said anything especially stupid. "He knows absolutely nothing!" she +said at last, turning up her little nose. "Well," she resumed, "there +is to be a ball and masquerade this evening at the castle in honor of +his Grace. My lady is to be dressed as a flower-girl--understand, as +a flower-girl. And she has noticed that you have particularly pretty +flowers in your garden." "That's strange," I thought to myself; "there +is hardly a flower to be seen there for the weeds!" But she continued: +"And since my lady needs perfectly fresh flowers for her costume, you +are to bring her some this evening, and wait under the big pear-tree +in the castle garden when it is dark until she comes for the flowers +herself." + +I was completely dazed with joy at this intelligence, and in my +rapture I leaped out of the window and ran after the maid. + +"Ugh, what an ugly dressing-gown!" she exclaimed, when she saw me +with my fluttering robe in the open air. This vexed me, but, not to be +behindhand in gallantry, I capered gaily after her to give her a kiss. +Unluckily, my feet became entangled in my dressing-gown, which was +much too long for me, and I fell flat on the ground. When I had picked +myself up the maid was gone, and I heard her in the distance laughing +fit to kill herself. + +Now I had delightful food for my reflections. After all, she still +remembered me and my flowers! I went into my garden and hastily tore +up all the weeds from the beds, throwing them high above my head into +the sunlit air, as if with the roots I were eradicating all melancholy +and annoyance from my life. Once more the roses were like _her_ lips, +the sky-blue convolvulus was like _her_ eyes, the snowy lily with its +pensive, drooping head was _her_ very image. I put them all tenderly +in a little basket; the evening was calm and lovely, not a speck of +a cloud in the sky. Here and there a star appeared; the murmur of +the Danube was heard afar over the meadows; in the tall trees of the +castle garden countless birds were twittering to one another merrily. +Ah, I was so happy! + +When at last night came I took my basket on my arm and set out for the +large garden. The flowers in the little basket looked so gay, white, +red, blue, and smelled so sweet, that my very heart laughed when I +peeped in at them. + +Filled with joyous thoughts, I walked in the lovely moonlight over the +trim paths strewn with gravel, across the little white bridge, beneath +which the swans were sleeping on the bosom of the water, and past the +pretty arbors and summer-houses. I soon found the big pear-tree; it +was the same under which, while I was gardener's boy, I used to lie on +sultry afternoons. + +All around me here was dark and lonely. A tall aspen quivered and kept +whispering with its silver leaves. The music from the castle was +heard at intervals, and now and then there were voices in the garden; +sometimes they passed quite near me, and then all would be still +again. + +My heart beat fast. I had a strange uncomfortable sensation as if I +were a robber. I stood for a long time stock-still, leaning against +the tree and listening; but when no one appeared I could bear it no +longer. I hung my basket on my arm and clambered up into the pear-tree +to breathe a purer air. + +The music of the dance floated up to me over the tree-tops. I +overlooked the entire garden and gazed directly into the brilliantly +illuminated windows of the castle. Chandeliers glittered there like +galaxies of stars; a multitude of gaily-dressed gentlemen and ladies +wandered and waltzed and whirled about unrecognizable, like the gay +figures of a magic-lantern; at times some of them leaned out of the +windows and looked down into the garden. In front of the castle the +brilliant light gilded the grass, the shrubbery, and the trees, so +that the flowers and the birds seemed to be aroused by it. All around +and below me, however, the garden lay black and still. + +"_She_ is dancing there now," I thought to myself up in the tree," +and has long since forgotten you and your flowers. All are gay; not a +human being cares for you in the least. And thus it is with me, always +and everywhere. Every one has his little nook marked out for him on +this earth, his warm hearth, his cup of coffee, his wife, his glass of +wine in the evening, and is perfectly happy; even the Porter with his +big nose is content. For me there is no place, I seem to be just too +late everywhere; the world has not a bit of need of me." + +As I was philosophizing thus, I suddenly heard something rustle on the +grass below me. Two soft voices were speaking together in a low +tone. In a moment the foliage of the shrubbery was parted, and the +lady's-maid's little face appeared among the leaves, peering about +on all sides. The moonlight sparkled in her saucy eyes as they +peeped out. I held my breath and stared down at her. Before long the +flower-girl did actually appear among the trees, just as the maid had +described her to me yesterday. My heart throbbed as if it would burst. +She had on a mask, and seemed to be gazing around in surprise. Somehow +she did not look to me as slender and graceful as she had been. +At last she reached the tree, and took off her mask. It was the +other--the elder lady! + +How glad I was, when I had recovered from the first shock, that I was +up here in safety! How in the world did she chance to come here? If +the dear, lovely Lady fair should happen to come at this instant +for her flowers, there would be a fine to-do! I could have cried for +vexation at the whole affair. + +Meanwhile the disguised flower-girl beneath me began: "It is so +stifling hot in the ball-room, I had to come out to cool myself in +this lovely open air." Thereupon she fanned herself with her mask +and puffed and blew. In the bright moonlight I could plainly see how +swollen were the cords of her neck; she looked very angry and quite +scarlet in the face. The lady's maid was all the while searching +behind every bush, as if she were looking for a lost pin. + +"I do so need more fresh flowers for my character," the flower-girl +continued. "Where can he be?" The maid went on searching, and kept +chuckling to herself. "What did you say, Rosetta?" the flower-girl +asked, shrewishly. "I say what I always have said," the maid replied, +putting on a very serious, honest face; "the Receiver is a lazy +fellow; of course he is lying behind some bush sound asleep." + +My blood tingled with longing to jump down and defend my reputation, +when on a sudden a burst of music and loud shouts were heard from the +castle. + +The flower-girl could stay no longer. "The people are cheering his +Grace," she said passionately. "Come, we shall be missed!" And she +clapped on her mask in a hurry, and ran in a rage with the maid toward +the castle. The trees and bushes seemed to point after her with long, +derisive fingers, the moonlight danced nimbly up and down over her +stout figure as though over the key-board of a piano, and thus to +the sound of trumpets and kettle-drums she made her exit, like many a +singer whom I have seen upon the stage. + +I, seated above in my tree, was downright bewildered, and gazed +fixedly at the castle; a circle of tall torches upon the steps of the +entrance cast a strange glare upon the glittering windows and deep +into the garden; the assembled servants were to serenade their master. +In the midst of them stood the gorgeous Porter, like a minister of +state, before a music-stand, working away busily at a bassoon. + +Just as I had settled myself to listen to the beautiful serenade, the +folding-doors leading to the balcony above the entrance parted. A tall +gentleman, very handsome and dignified, in uniform and glittering with +orders, stepped out on the balcony, leading by the hand the lovely +young Lady fair, dressed in white like a lily in the night, or like +the moon in the clear skies. + +I could not take my eyes from her, and garden, trees, and fields +disappeared before me, as she stood there tall and slender, so +wondrously illuminated by the torch-light, now speaking with such +grace to the young officer, and now nodding down kindly to the +musicians. The people below were beside themselves with delight, +and at last I too could restrain myself no longer, and joined in the +cheers with all my might. + +But when, soon after, she disappeared from the balcony, one after +another the torches below were extinguished and the music-stands +cleared away, and the garden around was once more dark, and the trees +rustled as before--then it all became clear to me; I saw that it was +really only the aunt who had ordered the flowers of me, that the Lady +fair never thought of me and had been married long ago, and that I +myself was a big fool. + +All this plunged me into an abyss of reflection. I rolled myself round +like a hedgehog on the prickles of my own thoughts. Snatches of music +still reached me now and then from the ball-room--the clouds floated +lonely away above the dim garden. And there I sat, all through +the night, up in the tree, like a night-owl, amid the ruins of my +happiness. + +The cool breeze of morning aroused me at last from my dreamings. I was +startled as I looked about me. The music and dancing had long since +ceased, and everything around the castle and on the lawn, and the +marble steps and columns, all looked quiet, cool, and solemn; the +fountain alone plashed on before the entrance. Here and there in the +boughs near me the birds were awaking, shaking their bright feathers, +and as they stretched their little wings, peering curiously and amazed +at their strange fellow-sleeper. The joyous rays of morning flashed +across my breast and over the garden. + +I stood erect in my tree, and for the first time for a long while +looked far abroad over the country, to where the ships glided down +the Danube among the vineyards, and the high-roads, still deserted, +stretched like bridges across the gleaming landscape and far over the +distant hills and valleys. + +I cannot tell how it was, but all at once my former love of travel +took possession of me, all the old melancholy, and delight, and ardent +expectation. And at the same moment I thought of the Lady fair over in +the castle sleeping among flowers, beneath silken coverlets, with an +angel surely keeping watch beside her bed in the silence of the dawn. +"No!" I cried aloud. "I must go away from here, far, far away--as far +as the sky stretches its blue arch!" + +As I uttered the words I tossed my basket high into the air, so that +it was beautiful to see how the flowers fell among the branches and +lay in gay colors on the green sod below. Then I got down as quickly +as possible, and went through the quiet garden to my dwelling. I +paused many times at spots where I had seen her pass, or where I had +lain in the shade and thought of her. + +In and about my cottage all was just as I had left it the day before. +The garden was torn up and laid waste, the big account-book lay +open on the table in my room, my fiddle, which I had almost clean +forgotten, hung dusty on the wall; a ray of morning light glittered +upon the strings. It struck a chord in my heart. "Yes," I said, "come +here, thou faithful instrument! Our kingdom is not of this world!" + +So I took the fiddle from the wall, and leaving behind me the +account-book, dressing-gown, slippers, pipes, and parasol, I walked +out of my cottage, as poor as when I entered it, and down along the +gleaming high-road. + +I looked back often and often; I felt very strange, sad, and yet +merry, like a bird escaping from his cage. And when I had walked some +distance I took out my fiddle and sang-- + + "I wander on, in God confiding, + For all are His, wood, field, and fell; + O'er earth and skies He still presiding, + For me will order all things well." + +The castle, the garden, and the spires of Vienna vanished behind me +in the morning mists; far above me countless larks exulted in the air; +thus, past gay villages and hamlets and over green hills, I wandered +on toward Italy. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Here was a puzzle! It had never occurred to me that I did not know my +way. Not a human being was to be seen in the quiet early morning +whom I could question, and right before me the road divided into many +roads, which went on far, far over the highest mountains, as though to +the very end of the world--so that I actually grew giddy as I looked +along them. + +At last a peasant appeared, going to church I fancy, as it was Sunday, +in an old-fashioned coat with large silver buttons, and swinging a +long malacca cane with a massive silver head, which sparkled from afar +in the sunlight. I immediately asked him very politely, "Can you tell +me which is the road to Italy?" The fellow stood still, stared at me, +thrust out his under lip reflectively, and stared at me again. I began +once more: "To Italy, where oranges grow." "What do I care for your +oranges!" said the peasant, and walked on sturdily. I should have +credited the fellow with more politeness, for he really looked very +fine. + +What was to be done? Turn round and go back to my native village? Why, +the folks would have jeered me, and the boys would have run after me +crying, "Oh, indeed! you're welcome back from 'out in the world.' +How does it look 'out in the world?' Haven't you brought us some +ginger-nuts from 'out in the world?'" The Porter with the High Roman +nose, who certainly was familiar with Universal History, used often to +say to me, "Respected Herr Receiver, Italy is a beautiful country; the +dear God takes care of every one there. You can lie on your back in +the sunshine and raisins drop into your mouth; and if a tarantula +bites you, you dance with the greatest ease, although you never +in your life before learned to dance." "Ay, to Italy! to Italy!" I +shouted with delight, and, heedless of any choice of roads, hurried on +along the first that came. + +After I had gone a little way I saw on the right a most beautiful +orchard, with the morning sun shimmering on the trunks and through the +tree-tops so brilliantly that it looked as if the ground were spread +with golden rugs. As no one was in sight, I clambered over the low +fence and lay down comfortably on the grass under an apple-tree; +all my limbs were still aching from camping out in the tree on the +previous night. From where I lay I could see far abroad over the +country, and as it was Sunday the sound of the church-bells from +the far distance came to me over the quiet fields, and gaily-dressed +peasants were walking across the meadows and along the lanes to +church. I was glad at heart; the birds sang in the tree overhead; +I thought of my father's mill, and of the garden of the lovely Lady +fair, and of how far, far away it all was--until I fell sound asleep. +I dreamed that the Lady fair came walking, or rather slowly flying, +toward me from the lovely landscape to the music of the church-bells, +in long white robes that waved in the rosy morning. Then again +it seemed that we were not in a strange country, but in my native +village, in the deep shade beside the mill. But everything was still +and deserted, as it is when the people are all gone to church and only +the solemn sounds of the organ wafted down through the trees break the +stillness; I was oppressed with melancholy. But the Lady fair was very +kind and gentle, and put her hand in mine and walked along with me, +and sang, amid this solitude, the beautiful song that she used to +sing to her guitar early in the morning at her open window, and in the +placid mill-pool I saw her image, lovelier even than herself, except +that the eyes were wondrous large and looked at me so strangely that +I was almost afraid. Then suddenly the mill-wheel began to turn, at +first slowly, then faster and more noisily; the pool became dark and +troubled, the Lady fair turned very pale, and her robes grew longer +and longer, and fluttered wildly in long strips like pennons of +mist up toward the skies; the roaring of the mill-wheel sounded ever +louder, and it seemed as though it were the Porter blowing upon his +bassoon, so that I waked up with my heart throbbing violently. + +In fact, a breeze had arisen, which was gently stirring the leaves of +the apple-tree above me; but the noise and roaring came neither from +the mill nor from the Porter's bassoon, but from the same peasant who +had before refused to show me the way to Italy. He had taken off +his Sunday coat and put on a white smock-frock. "Oho!" he said, as I +rubbed my sleepy eyes, "do you want to pick your oranges here, that +you trample down all my grass instead of going to church, you lazy +lout, you?" I was vexed that the boor should have waked me, and I +started up and cried, "Hold your tongue! I have been a better gardener +than you will ever be, and a Receiver, and if you had been driving to +town, you would have had to take off your dirty cap to me, sitting at +my door in my yellow-dotted, red dressing-gown--" But the fellow was +nothing daunted, and, putting his arms akimbo, merely asked, "What do +you want here? eh! eh!" I saw that he was a short, stubbed, bow-legged +fellow, with protruding goggle-eyes, and a red, rather crooked nose. +And when he went on saying nothing but "Eh! eh!" and kept advancing +toward me step by step, I was suddenly seized with so curious a +sensation of disgust that I hastily jumped to my feet, leaped over the +fence, and, without looking round, ran across country until my fiddle +in my pocket twanged again. + +When at last I stopped to take breath, the orchard and the whole +valley were out of sight and I was in a beautiful forest. But I took +little note of it, for I was downright provoked at the peasant's +impertinence, and I fumed for a long time, to myself. I walked on +quickly, going farther and farther from the high-road and in among the +mountains. The plank-roadway which I had been following ceased, and +before me was only a narrow, unfrequented foot-path. Not a soul was +to be seen anywhere, and no sound was to be heard. But it was very +pleasant walking; the trees rustled and the birds sang sweetly. I +resigned myself to the guidance of heaven, and, taking out my violin, +played all my favorite airs. Very joyous they sounded in the lonely +forest. + +I grew tired of playing after a while, for I stumbled every minute +over the tiresome roots of the trees, and I began to grow very hungry, +while the wood seemed endless. Thus I wandered for the entire day, +until the sun's rays came aslant through the trunks of the trees, when +at last I emerged on a little grassy vale shut in by the mountains and +gay with red and yellow flowers, above which myriads of butterflies +were fluttering in the golden light of the setting sun. It was as +secluded here as though the world had been hundreds of miles away. The +crickets chirped, and a shepherd lad lying among the tall grasses blew +so melancholy an air upon his horn that it was enough to break one's +heart. "Yes," thought I to myself, "who has as happy a lot as a lazy +lout! Some of us, though, have to wander about among strangers, and be +always on the go." As a lovely, clear stream separated me from him, +I called to him to ask where the nearest village was. But he did not +disturb himself to reply--only stretched his head a little out of the +grass, pointed with his horn to the opposite wood, and coolly resumed +his piping. + +I marched on briskly, for twilight was at hand. The birds, which had +made a great clatter while the sun was disappearing on the horizon, +suddenly fell silent, and I began to feel almost afraid, so solemn +was the perpetual rustling of the lonely forest. At last I heard dogs +barking in the distance. I walked more quickly, the forest grew less +and less dense, and in a little while I saw through the last trees a +beautiful village-green, where a crowd of children were frolicking, +and capering around a huge linden in the centre. Opposite me was an +inn, and at a table before it were seated some peasants playing cards +and smoking. On one side a number of lads and lasses were gathered +in a group, the girls with their arms rolled in their aprons, and all +gossiping together in the cool of the evening. + +I took very little time for consideration, but, drawing my fiddle from +my pocket, I played a merry waltz as I came out from the forest. The +girls were surprised, and the old folks laughed so that the woods +reechoed with their merriment. But when I reached the linden, and, +leaning my back against it, went on playing gay waltzes, a whisper +went round among the groups of young people to the right and left; the +lads laid aside their pipes, each put his arm around his lass's waist, +and in the twinkling of an eye the young folk were all waltzing around +me; the dogs barked, skirts and coat-tails fluttered, and the children +stood around me in a circle gazing curiously into my face and at my +briskly-moving fingers. + +When the first waltz was ended, it was easy to see how good music +loosens the limbs. The peasant lads, who had before been restlessly +shuffling about on the benches, with their pipes in their mouths and +their legs stretched out stiffly in front of them, were positively +transformed, and, with their gay handkerchiefs hanging from the +button-holes of their coats, capered about with the lasses so that it +was a pleasure to look at them. One of them, who evidently thought +a deal of himself, fumbled in his waistcoat-pocket for a long while, +that the others might see him, and finally brought out a little silver +coin, which he tried to put into my hand. It irritated me, although I +had not a stiver in my pocket. I told him to keep his pennies, I was +playing only for joy, because I was glad to be among people once more. +Soon afterward, however, a pretty girl came up to me with a great +tankard of wine. "Musicians are thirsty folk," she said, with a laugh +that displayed her pearls of teeth gleaming so temptingly between her +red lips that I should have liked to kiss her then and there. She put +the tankard to her charming mouth, and her eyes sparkled at me over +its rim; she then handed it to me; I drained it to the bottom, and +played afresh, till all were spinning merrily about me once more. + +By and by the old peasants finished their game, and the young people +grew tired and separated, so that gradually all was quiet and deserted +in front of the inn. The girl who had brought me the wine also walked +toward the village, but she went very slowly, and looked around from +time to time as if she had forgotten something. At last she stopped +and seemed to search for it on the ground, but as she stooped I saw +her glance toward me from under her arm. I had learned polite manners +at the castle, so I sprang toward her and said, "Have you lost +anything, my pretty ma'amselle?" She blushed crimson. "Ah, no," she +said; "it was only a rose; will you have it?" I thanked her, and stuck +the rose in my button-hole. She looked very kindly at me, and said, +"You play beautifully." "Yes," I replied, "it is a gift from God." +"Musicians are very rare in the country about here," she began again, +then stammered, and cast down her eyes. "You might earn a deal of +money here. My father plays the fiddle a little, and likes to hear +about foreign countries--and my father is very rich." Then she +laughed, and said, "If you only would not waggle your head so, when +you play." "My dearest girl," I said, "do not blush so--and as for the +tremoloso motion of the head, we can't help it, great musicians all do +it." "Oh, indeed!" rejoined the girl. She was about to say more, when +a terrible racket arose in the inn; the front door was opened with a +bang, and a tall, lean fellow was shot out of it like a ramrod, after +which it was slammed to behind him. + +At the first sound the girl ran off like a deer and vanished in the +darkness. The man picked himself up and began to rave against the +inn with such volubility that it was a wonder to hear him. "What!" he +yelled, "I drunk? I not pay the chalk-marks on your smoky door? Rub +them out! rub them out! Did I not shave you yesterday over a ladle, +and cut you just under the nose so that you bit the ladle in two? +Shaving takes off one mark; ladle, another mark; court-plaster on your +nose, another. How many more of your dirty marks do you want to have +paid? But all right--all right. I'll let the whole village, the whole +world go unshaved. Wear your beards, for all I care, till they are so +long that at the judgment-day the Almighty will not know whether you +are Jews or Christians. Yes, hang yourselves with your beards, shaggy +bears that you are!" Here he burst into tears and, in a maudlin, +falsetto voice, sobbed out, "Am I to drink water like a wretched fish? +Is that loving your neighbor? Am I not a man and a skilled surgeon? +Ah, I am beside myself today; my heart is full of pity, and of love +for my fellow-creatures." And then, finding that all was quiet in the +house, he began to walk away. When he saw me, he came plunging toward +me with outstretched arms. I thought the fellow was about to embrace +me, and sprang aside, letting him stumble on in the darkness, where I +heard him discoursing to himself for some time. + +All sorts of fancies filled my brain. The girl who had given me the +rose was young, pretty, and rich. I could make my fortune before one +could turn round. And sheep and pigs, turkeys, and fat geese stuffed +with apples--verily, I seemed to see the Porter strutting up to me: +"Seize your luck, Receiver, seize your luck! 'Marry young, you're +never wrong;' take home your bride, live in the country, and live +well." Plunged in these philosophical reflections, I sat me down on +a stone, for, since I had no money, I did not venture to knock at +the inn. The moon shone brilliantly, the forests on the mountain-side +murmured in the still night; now and then a dog barked in the village +which lay farther down the valley, buried, as it were, beneath foliage +and moonlight. I gazed up at the heavens, where a few clouds were +sailing slowly and now and then a falling star shot down from the +zenith. Thus this same moon, thought I, is shining down upon my +father's mill and upon his Grace's castle. Everything there is quiet +by this time, the Lady fair is asleep, and the fountains and leaves in +the garden are whispering just as they used to whisper, all the same +whether I am there, or here, or dead. And the world seemed to me so +terribly big, and I so utterly alone in it, that I could have wept +from the very depths of my heart. + +While I was thus sitting there, suddenly I heard the sound of horses' +hoofs in the forest. I held my breath and listened as the sound +came nearer and nearer, until I could hear the horses snorting. Soon +afterward two horsemen appeared under the trees, but paused at the +edge of the woods, and talked together in low, very eager tones, as +I could see by the moving shadows which were thrown across the +bright village-green, and by their long dark arms pointing in various +directions. How often at home, when my mother, now dead, had told me +of savage forests and fierce robbers, had I privately longed to be a +part of such a story! I was well paid now for my silly, rash longings. +I reached up the linden-tree, beneath which I was sitting, as high +as I could, unobserved, until I clasped the lowest branch, and then I +swung myself up. But just as I had got my body half across the branch, +and was about to drag my legs up after it, one of the horsemen trotted +briskly across the green toward me. I shut my eyes tight amid the +thick foliage, and did not stir. "Who is there?" a voice called +directly under me. "Nobody!" I yelled in terror at being detected, +although I could not but laugh to myself at the thought of how the +rogues would look when they should turn my empty pockets inside out. +"Aha!" said the robber, "whose are these legs, then, hanging down +here?" There was no help for it. "They are," I replied, "only a couple +of legs of a poor, lost musician." And I hastily let myself drop, for +I was ashamed to hang there any longer like a broken fork. + +The rider's horse shied when I dropped so suddenly from the tree. He +patted the animal's neck, and said, laughing, "Well, we too are lost, +so we are comrades; perhaps you can help us to find the road to B. You +shall be no loser by it." I assured him that I knew nothing about the +road to B., and said that I would ask in the inn, or would conduct +them to the village. But the man would not listen to reason; he +drew from his girdle a pistol, the barrel of which glittered in the +moonlight. "My dear fellow," he said in a very friendly tone, as he +wiped off the glittering barrel and then ran his eye along it--"my +dear fellow, you will have the kindness to go yourself before us to +B." + +Verily, I was in a scrape. If I chanced to hit the right road, I +should certainly get into the midst of the robber band and be beaten +because I had no money; if I did not find the road, I should be beaten +of course. I wasted very little thought upon the matter, but took +the first road at hand, the one past the inn which led away from +the village. The horseman galloped back to his companion, and both +followed me slowly at some distance. Thus we wandered on foolishly +enough at hap-hazard through the moonlit night. The road led through +forests on the side of a mountain. Sometimes we could see, above the +tops of the pines stirring darkly beneath us, far abroad into the +deep, silent valleys; now and then a nightingale burst into song; the +dogs bayed in the distant villages. A brook babbled ceaselessly from +the depths below us, and here and there glistened in the moonlight. +The hush was disturbed by the monotonous tramp of the horses and by +the stir and movement of their riders, who talked together incessantly +in a foreign tongue, and the bright moonlight contrasted sharply with +the long shadows of the trees, which swept across the figures of the +horsemen, making them appear now black, now light, now dwarfish, and +anon gigantic. My thoughts grew strangely confused, as though in a +dream from which I could not waken, but I marched straight ahead. We +certainly must reach the end of the forest and of the night too, I +thought. + +At last long, rosy streaks flushed the horizon here and there but +faintly, as when one breathes upon a mirror, and a lark began to sing +high up above the peaceful valley. My heart at once grew perfectly +light at the approach of dawn, and all fear left me. The two horsemen +stretched themselves, looked around, and seemed for the first time +to suspect that we might not have taken the right road. They chatted +much, and I could perceive that they were talking of me; it even +seemed to me that one of them began to mistrust me, as though I were +a rogue trying to lead them astray in the forest. This amused me +mightily, for the lighter it grew the greater grew my courage, until +we emerged upon a fine, spacious opening. Here I looked about me quite +savagely, and whistled once or twice through my fingers, as scoundrels +always do when they wish to signal one another. + +"Halt!" exclaimed one of the horsemen, so suddenly that I jumped. When +I looked round I saw that both had alighted and had tied their horses +to a tree. One of them came up to me rapidly, stared me full in the +face, and then burst into a fit of immoderate laughter. I must confess +this senseless merriment irritated me. But he said, "Why, it is +actually the gardener--I should say the Receiver, from the castle!" + +I stared at him in turn, but could not remember who he was; indeed, I +should have had enough to do to recognize all the young gentlemen who +came and went at the castle. He kept up an eternal laughter, however, +declaring, "This is magnificent! You're taking a holiday, I see; +we are just in want of a servant; stay with us and you will have a +perpetual holiday." I was dumbfounded, and said at last that I was +just on my way to visit Italy. "Italy?" the stranger rejoined. "That +is just where we wish to go!" "Ah, if that be so!" I exclaimed, and, +taking out my fiddle, I tuned up so that all the birds in the +wood awaked. The young fellow immediately threw his arm around his +companion, and they waltzed about the meadow like mad. + +Suddenly they stood still. "By heavens," exclaimed one, "I can see the +church-tower of B.! We shall soon be there." He took out his watch and +made it repeat, then shook his head, and made the watch strike again. +"No," he said, "it will not do; we should arrive too early, and that +might be very bad." + +Then they brought out from their saddle-bags cakes, cutlets, and +bottles of wine, spread a gay cloth on the grass, stretched themselves +beside it, and feasted to their hearts' content, sharing all +generously with me, which I greatly enjoyed, seeing that for some days +I had not had over and above enough to eat. "And let me tell you," +one of them said to me--"but you do not know us yet?" I shook my head. +"Then let me tell you. I am the painter Lionardo, and my friend here +is a painter also, called Guido." + +I could see the two painters more clearly in the dawning morning. Herr +Lionardo was tall, brown, and slender, with merry, ardent eyes. The +other was much younger, smaller, and more delicate, dressed in antique +German style, as the Porter called it, with a white collar and bare +throat, about which hung dark brown curls, which he was often obliged +to toss aside from his pretty face. When he had breakfasted, he picked +up my fiddle, which I had laid on the grass beside me, seated himself +upon the fallen trunk of a tree, and strummed the strings. Then he +sang in a voice clear as a wood-robin's, so that it went to my very +heart heart-- + + "When the earliest morning ray + Through the valley finds its way, + Hill and forest fair awaking, + All who can their flight are taking. + + "And the lad who's free from care + Shouts, with cap flung high in air, + 'Song its flight can aye be winging; + Let me, then, be ever singing.'" + +As he sang, the ruddy rays of morning exquisitely illumined his pale +face and dark, love-lit eyes. But I was so tired that the words and +notes of his song mingled and blended strangely in my ears, until at +last I fell sound asleep. + +When, by and by, I began gradually to awaken, I heard, as in a dream, +the two painters talking together beside me, and the birds singing +overhead, while the morning sun shining through my closed eyelids +produced the sensation of looking toward the light through red +curtains. "_Com' è bello_!" I heard some one exclaim close to me. I +opened my eyes, and saw the younger painter bending over me in the +clear morning light, so near that I seemed to see only his large black +eyes between his drooping curls. + +I sprang up hastily, for it was broad day. Herr Lionardo seemed +cross--he had two angry furrows on his brow--and hastily made ready to +move on. But the other painter shook his curls away from his face and +quietly hummed an air to himself as he was bridling his steed, until +at last Lionardo burst into a sudden fit of laughter, picked up a +bottle standing on the grass, and poured the contents into a couple +of glasses. "To our happy arrival!" he exclaimed, as the two clinked +their glasses melodiously. Whereupon Lionardo tossed the empty bottle +high in the air, and it sparkled brilliantly. + +At last they mounted their horses, and I marched on beside them. Just +at our feet lay a valley in measureless extent, into which our road +descended. How clear and fresh and bright and jubilant were all the +sights and sounds around! I was so cool, so happy, that I felt as if I +could have flown from the mountain out into the glorious landscape. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Farewell, mill, and castle, and Porter! We went at such a pace that +the wind nearly blew my hat off. Right and left, villages, towns, and +vineyards flew past in a twinkling; behind me the two painters were +seated in the carriage, before me were four horses and a gorgeous +postilion, while I, seated high up on the box, bounced into the air +from time to time. + +It had happened thus: Arrived at B., while we were as yet in the +outskirts a tall, thin, crusty gentleman in a green plush coat came to +meet us, and, with many obeisances to the two painters, conducted +us into the village, where, beneath the tall linden beside the +post-station, stood a fine carriage with four post-horses. Herr +Lionardo meanwhile insisted that I had outgrown my clothes, and in a +trice he produced another suit from his portmanteau, and I had to put +on a beautiful new dress-coat and vest; very fine to see, but they +were too long and too wide for me, and absolutely fluttered about me. +And I also had a brand-new hat, which shone in the sunlight as if it +had been smeared with fresh butter. Then the crusty stranger gentleman +took the bridles of the two horses which the painters had been riding, +the painters themselves got into the carriage, I mounted upon the +box, and we started, just as the postmaster poked his head out of the +window, in his nightcap. The postilion blew his horn merrily, and we +were off for Italy. + +I led a magnificent existence up there, like a bird in the air, except +that I did not need to fly. I had absolutely nothing to do but to sit +on the box day and night, and bring out food and drink to the carriage +from the inns, for the painters never alighted, and in the daytime +they shut the carriage windows close, as if the sun would have killed +them; only now and then Herr Guido put his pretty head out of the +carriage window and chatted kindly with me, laughing the while at Herr +Lionardo, who always seemed to dislike these talks. Once or twice I +nearly fell into disgrace with my master--the first time because on a +clear starry night I began to play the fiddle up there on my box, and +then because of my sleeping. It _was_ strange! I longed to see all +that I could of Italy, and opened my eyes wide every fifteen minutes. +And yet, after I had gazed steadily about me for a while, the sixteen +trotting feet before me would grow indistinct and dreamy, my eyes +would gradually close, and at last I would fall into a slumber so +profound and invincible that it was impossible to rouse me. Then day +or night, rain or sunshine, Tyrol or Italy, it was all the same; +I swayed first to the right, then to the left, then backward--nay, +sometimes my head nodded down so low that my hat dropped off, and Herr +Guido screamed aloud. + +Thus we had passed, I hardly know how, half through the part of +Italy that they call Lombardy, when on a fine evening we stopped at +a country inn. The post-horses were to be ready for us at the +neighboring station in a couple of hours, so the painters left the +carriage, and were shown into a special apartment, to rest a little, +and to write some letters. I was greatly pleased, and betook myself +to the common room to eat and drink in comfort. Here everything looked +rather disreputable: the maids were going about with their hair in +disorder and their neckerchiefs awry, exposing their sallow skin; +the men-servants were at their supper in blue smock-frocks, around a +circular table, whence they glowered at me from time to time. They all +wore their hair tied behind in a short, thick queue which looked quite +dandified. "Here you are," I said to myself, as I ate my supper, "here +you are in the country from which such queer people used to come to +the Herr Pastor's with mouse-traps, and barometers, and pictures. How +much a man learns who makes up his mind not to stick close to his own +hearth-stone all his life!" + +As I was thus eating my supper and meditating, a little man, who had +been sitting in a dim corner of the room over a glass of wine, darted +out of his nook at me like a spider. He was quite short and crooked, +and he had a big ugly head, with a long hooked nose and sparse red +whiskers, while his powdered hair stood on end all over his head as +if a hurricane had swept over it. He wore an old-fashioned, threadbare +dress-coat, short, plush breeches, and faded silk stockings. He had +once been in Germany, and prided himself upon his knowledge of German. +He sat down by me and asked a hundred questions, perpetually taking +snuff the while--Was I the _servitore_? When did we arrive? Had we +gone to Roma? All this I myself did not know, and really I could not +understand his gibberish. "_Parlez-vous français_?" I asked him at +last in my distress. He shook his big head, and I was very glad, for +neither did I speak French. But it was of no use, he had taken me in +hand, and went on asking question after question; the more we parleyed +the less we understood each other, until at last we both grew angry, +and I actually thought the Signor would have liked to peck me with his +hooked beak, until the maids, who had been listening to our confusion +of tongues, laughed heartily at us. I put down my knife and fork and +went out of doors; for in this strange land I, with my German tongue, +seemed to have sunk down fathoms deep into the sea, where all sorts +of unfamiliar, crawling creatures were gliding about me, peopling the +solitude and glaring and snapping at me. + +Outside, the summer night was warm and inviting. From the distant +vineyards a laborer's song now and then fell on the ear; there was +lightning low on the horizon, and the landscape seemed to tremble and +whisper in the moonlight. Sometimes I thought I perceived a tall, +dim figure gliding behind the hazel hedge in front of the house and +peeping through the twigs, and then all would be motionless. Suddenly +Herr Guido appeared on the balcony above me. He did not see me, and +began to play with great skill on a zither which he must have found in +the house, singing to it like a nightingale: + + "When the yearning heart is stilled + As in dreams, the forest sighing, + To the listening earth replying, + Tells the thoughts with which 'twas filled: + Days long vanished, soothing sorrow-- + From the Past a light they borrow, + And the heart is gently thrilled." + +I do not know whether he sang any more, for I had stretched myself on +a bench outside the door, and I fell asleep in the warm air from sheer +exhaustion. + +A couple of hours must have passed, when I was roused by the winding +of a post-horn, which sounded merrily in my dreams for a while before +I fully recovered consciousness. At last I sprang up; day was +already dawning on the mountains, and I felt through all my limbs the +freshness of the morning. Then it occurred to me that by this time we +ought to be far on our way. "Aha!" I thought, "now it is my turn to +laugh. How Herr Guido will shake his sleepy, curly head when he hears +me outside!" So I went close beneath the window in the little garden +at the back of the house, stretched my limbs well in the morning air, +and sang merrily-- + + "If the cricket's chirp we hear, + Then be sure the day is near; + When the sun is rising--then + 'Tis good to go to asleep again." + +The window of the room where my masters were stood open, but all +within was quiet; the breeze alone rustled the leaves of the vine that +clambered into the window itself. "What does this mean?" I exclaimed +in surprise, and ran into the house, and through the silent corridors, +to the room. But when I opened the door my heart stood still with +dismay; the room was perfectly empty; not a coat, not a hat, not a +boot, anywhere. Only the zither upon which Herr Guido had played was +hanging on the wall, and on the table in the centre of the room lay +a purse full of money, with a card attached to it. I took it to +the window, and could scarcely trust my eyes when I read, in large +letters, "For the Herr Receiver!" + +But what good could it all do me if I could not find my dear, merry +masters again? I thrust the purse into my deep coat-pocket, where it +plumped down as into a well and almost pulled me over backward. Then I +rushed out, and made a great noise, and waked up all the maids and men +in the house. They could not imagine what was the matter, and thought +I must have gone crazy. But they were not a little amazed when they +saw the empty nest. No one knew anything of my masters. One maid +only had observed--so far as I could make out from her signs and +gesticulations--that Herr Guido, when he was singing on the balcony on +the previous evening, had suddenly screamed aloud, and had then rushed +back into the room to the other gentleman. And once, when she waked +in the night afterward, she had heard the tramp of a horse. She peeped +out of the little window of her room, and saw the crooked Signor, who +had talked so much to me, on a white horse, galloping so furiously +across the field in the moonlight that he bounced high up from his +saddle; and the maid crossed herself, for he looked like a ghost +riding upon a three-legged horse. I did not know what in the world to +do. + +Meanwhile, however, our carriage was standing before the door ready to +start, and the impatient postilion blew his horn fit to burst, for he +had to be at the next station at a certain hour, because everything +had been ordered with great exactitude in the way of changing horses. +I ran once more through all the house, calling the painters, but no +one made answer; the inn-people stared at me, the postilion cursed, +the horses neighed, and, at last, completely dazed, I sprang into the +carriage, the hostler shut the door behind me, the postilion cracked +his whip, and away I went into the wide world. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +We drove on now over hill and dale, day and night. I had no time for +reflection, for wherever we arrived the horses were standing ready +harnessed. I could not talk with the people, and my signs and gestures +were of no use; often just in the midst of a fine dinner the postilion +wound his horn, and I had to drop knife and fork and spring into +the carriage again without knowing whither I was going, or why or +wherefore I was obliged to hurry on at such a rattling pace. + +Otherwise the life was not unpleasant. I reclined upon the soft +cushions first in one corner of the carriage and then in the other, +and took note of countries and people, and when we drove through +the villages I leaned both arms on the window of the carriage, and +acknowledged the courtesy of the men who took off their hats to me, or +else I kissed my hand like an old acquaintance to the young girls at +the windows, who looked surprised, and stared after me as long as the +carriage was in sight. + +But a day came when I was in a terrible fright. I had never counted +the money in the purse left for me, and I had to pay a great deal to +the postmasters and innkeepers everywhere, so that before I was aware, +the purse was empty. When I first discovered this I had an idea of +jumping out of the carriage and making my escape, the next time we +drove through a lonely wood. But I could not make up my mind to give +up the beautiful carriage and leave it all alone, when, if it were +possible, I would gladly have driven in it to the end of the world. + +So I sat buried in thought, not knowing what to do, when all at once +we turned aside from the highway. I shouted to the postilion to ask +him where he was going, but, shout as I would, the fellow never made +any answer save "_Si, si, Signore_!" and on he drove over stock and +stone till I was jolted from side to side in the carriage. + +I was not at all pleased, for the high-road ran through a charming +country, directly toward the setting sun, which was bathing the +landscape in a sea of splendor, while before us, when we turned aside, +lay a dreary hilly region, broken by ravines, where in the gray depths +darkness had already set in. The further we drove, the lonelier and +drearier grew the road. At last the moon emerged from the clouds, and +shone through the trees with a weird, unearthly brilliancy. We had +to go very slowly in the narrow rocky ravines, and the continuous, +monotonous rattle of the carriage reechoed from the walls on either +side, as if we were driving through a vaulted tomb. From the depths +of the forest came a ceaseless murmur of unseen water-falls, and the +owlets hooted in the distance "Come too! come too!" As I looked at the +driver, I noticed for the first time that he wore no uniform and was +not a postilion; he seemed to be growing restless, turning his head +and looking behind him several times. Then he began to drive quicker, +and as I leaned out of the carriage a horseman came out of the +shrubbery on one side of the road, crossed it at a bound directly in +front of our horses, and vanished in the forest on the other side. +I felt bewildered; as far as I could see in the bright moonlight the +rider was that very same crooked little man who had so pecked at me +with his hooked nose in the inn, and mounted, too, on the same +white horse. The driver shook his head and laughed aloud at such +horsemanship, then quickly turned to me and said a great deal very +eagerly, not a word of which did I understand, and then he drove on +more rapidly than ever. + +I was rejoiced soon afterward when I perceived a light glimmering in +the distance. Gradually more and more lights appeared, and at last we +passed several smoke-dried huts clinging like swallows' nests to the +rocks. As the night was warm, the doors stood open, and I could see +into the lighted rooms, and all sorts of ragged figures gathered about +the hearths. We rattled on through the quiet night, along a steep, +stony road leading up a high mountain. Soon lofty trees and hanging +vines arched completely over us, and anon the heavens became visible, +and we could overlook in the depths a distant circle of mountains, +forests, and valleys. On the summit of the mountain stood a grand old +castle, its many towers gleaming in the brilliant moonlight. "God +be thanked!" I exclaimed, greatly relieved, and on the tiptoe of +expectation as to whither I was being conducted. + +A good half-hour passed, however, before we reached the gate-way of +the castle. It led under a broad round tower, the summit of which was +half ruined. The driver cracked his whip three times, so that the old +castle reëchoed, and a flock of startled rooks flew forth from every +sheltered nook and careered wildly overhead with hoarse caws. Then the +carriage rolled on through the long, dark gate-way. The iron shoes of +the horses struck fire upon the stone pavement, a large dog barked, +the wheels thundered along the vaulted passage, the rooks' hoarse +cries resounded, and amidst all this horrible hubbub we reached a +small, paved courtyard. + +"A queer post-station this," I thought, when the coach stopped. The +coach door was opened, and a tall old man with a small lantern scanned +me grimly from beneath his bushy eyebrows. He then took my arm and +helped me to alight from the coach as if I had been a person of +quality. Outside, before the castle door, stood a very ugly old woman +in a black camisole and petticoat, with a white apron and a black +cap, the long point of which in front almost touched her nose. A large +bunch of keys hung on one side of her waist, and she held in her hand +an old-fashioned candelabrum with two lighted wax candles. As soon as +she saw me she began to duck and curtsey and to talk volubly. I did +not understand a word, but I scraped innumerable bows, and felt very +uncomfortable. + +Meanwhile, the old man had peered into every corner of the coach with +his lantern, and grumbled and shook his head upon finding no trace +of trunk or luggage. The driver, without asking for the usual +_pour-boire_, proceeded to put up the coach in an old shed on one side +of the courtyard, while the old woman by all sorts of courteous signs +invited me to follow her. She showed the way with her wax candles +through a long, narrow passage, and up a little stone staircase. +As we passed the kitchen a couple of maids poked their heads +inquisitively through the half-open door, and stared at me, as they +winked and nodded furtively to each other, as if they had never in all +their lives seen a man before. At last the old woman opened a door, +and for a moment I was quite dazed; the apartment was spacious and +very handsome, the ceiling decorated with gilded carving and the walls +hung with magnificent tapestry portraying all sorts of figures and +flowers. In the centre of the room stood a table spread with cutlets, +cakes, salad, fruit, wine, and confections, enough to make one's mouth +water. Between the windows hung a tall mirror, reaching from the floor +to the ceiling. + +I must say that all this delighted me. I stretched myself once or +twice, and paced the room to and fro with much dignity, after which I +could not resist looking at myself in such a large mirror. Of a truth +Herr Lionardo's new clothes became me well, and I had caught an ardent +expression of eye from the Italians, but otherwise I was just such +a whey-face as I had been at home, with only a soft down on my upper +lip. + +Meanwhile, the old woman ground away with her toothless jaws, as if +she were actually chewing the end of her long nose. She made me sit +down, chucked me under the chin with her lean fingers, called me +"_poverino_," and leered at me so roguishly with her red eyes that one +corner of her mouth twitched half-way up her cheek as she at last left +the room with a low courtesy. + +I sat down at the table, and a young, pretty girl came in to wait on +me. I made all sorts of gallant speeches to her, which she did not +understand, but watched me curiously while I applied myself to +the viands with evident enjoyment; they were delicious. When I had +finished and rose from table, she took a candle and conducted me to +another room, where were a sofa, a small mirror, and a magnificent bed +with green silk curtains. I inquired by signs whether I were to sleep +there. She nodded assent, but I could not undress while she stood +beside me as if she were rooted to the spot. At last I went and got a +large glass of wine from the table in the next room, drank it off, and +wished her "_Felicissima notte_!" for I had managed to learn that much +Italian. But while I was emptying the glass at a draught she suddenly +burst into a fit of suppressed giggling, grew very red, and went into +the next room, closing the door behind her. "What is there to laugh +at?" thought I in a puzzle. "I believe Italians are all crazy." + +Still in anxiety lest the postilion should begin to blow his horn +again, I listened at the window, but all was quiet outside. "Let him +blow!" I thought, undressed myself, and got into the magnificent bed, +where I seemed to be fairly swimming in milk and honey! The old linden +in the court-yard rustled, a rook now and then flew off the roof, and +at last, completely happy, I fell asleep. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +When I awoke, the beams of early morning were shining on the green +curtains of my bed. At first I could not remember where I was. I +seemed to be still driving in the coach, where I had been dreaming +of a castle in the moonlight, and of an old witch and her pale +daughter. + +I sprang hastily out of bed, dressed myself, and, looking about my +room, perceived in the wainscoting a small door, which I had not seen +the night before. It was ajar; I opened it, and saw a pretty little +room looking very fresh and neat in the early dawn. Some articles of +feminine apparel were lying in disorder over the back of a chair, and +in a bed beside it lay the girl who had waited upon me the evening +before. She was sleeping soundly, her head resting upon her bare white +arm, over which her black curls were straying. "How mortified she +would be if she knew that the door was open!" I said to myself, and +I crept back into my room, bolting the door after me, that the girl +might not be horrified and ashamed when she awoke. + +Not a sound was yet to be heard outside, except from an early robin +that was singing his morning song, perched upon a spray growing out of +the wall beneath my window. "No," said I, "you shall not shame me by +singing all alone your early hymn of praise to God!" I hastily fetched +my fiddle, which I had laid upon the table the night before, and left +the room. Everything in the castle was silent as death, and I was a +long while finding my way through the dim corridors out into the open +air. + +There I found myself in a large garden extending half-way down the +mountain, its broad terraces lying one beneath the other like huge +steps. But the gardening was slovenly. The paths were all grass-grown, +the yew figures were not trimmed, but stretched long noses and caps a +yard high into the air like ghosts, so that really they must have been +quite fearsome at nightfall. Linen was hanging to dry on the broken +marble statues of an unused fountain; here and there in the middle +of the garden cabbages were planted beside some common flowers; +everything was neglected, in disorder, and overgrown with tall weeds, +among which glided varicolored lizards. On all sides through the +gigantic old trees there was a distant, lonely prospect of range after +range of mountains stretching as far as the eye could reach. + +After I had been sauntering about through this wilderness for a while +in the dawn, I descried upon the terrace below me, striding to and fro +with folded arms, a tall, slender, pale youth in a long brown surtout. +He seemed not to perceive me, and shortly seated himself upon a stone +bench, took a book out of his pocket, read very loud from it, as if he +were preaching, looked up to heaven at intervals, and leaned his head +sadly upon his right hand. I looked at him for a long time, but at +last I grew curious to know why he was making such extraordinary +gestures, and I went hastily toward him. He had just heaved a profound +sigh, and sprang up startled as I approached. He was completely +confused, and so was I; we neither of us knew what to say, and we +stood there bowing, until he made his escape, striding rapidly through +the shrubbery. Meanwhile, the sun had arisen over the forest; I +mounted on the stone bench, and scraped my fiddle merrily, so that the +quiet valleys reëchoed. The old woman with the bunch of keys, who had +been searching anxiously for me all through the castle to call me to +breakfast, appeared upon the terrace above me, and was surprised that +I could play the fiddle so well. The grim old man from the castle came +too, and was as much amazed, and at last the maids came, and they all +stood up there together agape, while I fingered away, and wielded my +bow in the most artistic manner, playing cadenzas and variations until +I was downright tired. + +The castle was a mighty strange place! No one dreamed of journeying +further. It was no inn or post-station, as I learned from one of the +maids, but belonged to a wealthy count. When I sometimes questioned +the old woman as to the count's name and where he lived, she only +smirked as she had done on the evening of my arrival, and slyly +pinched me and winked at me archly as if she were out of her senses. +If on a warm day I drank a whole bottle of wine, the maids were sure +to giggle when they brought me another; and once when I wanted to +smoke a pipe, and informed them by signs of my desire, they all burst +into a fit of foolish laughter. But most mysterious of all was a +serenade which often, and always upon the darkest nights, sounded +beneath my window. A guitar was played fitfully, soft, low chords +being heard from time to time. Once I imagined I heard some one down +below call up, "Pst! pst!" I sprang out of bed and, putting my head +out of the window, called, "Holla! who's there?" But no answer came; I +only heard the rustling of the shrubbery, as if some one were hastily +running away. The large dog in the court-yard, roused by my shout, +barked a couple of times, and then all was still again. After this the +serenade was heard no more. + +Otherwise my life here was all that mortal could desire. The worthy +Porter knew well what he was talking about when he was wont to declare +that in Italy raisins dropped into one's mouth of themselves. I lived +in the lonely castle like an enchanted prince. Wherever I went the +servants treated me with the greatest respect, though they all knew +that I had not a farthing in my pocket. I had but to say, "Table, +be spread," and lo, I was served with delicious viands, rice, wine, +melons, and Parmesan cheese. I lived on the best, slept in the +magnificent canopied bed, walked in the garden, played my fiddle, and +sometimes helped with the gardening. I often lay for hours in the tall +grass, and the pale youth in his long surtout--he was a student and a +relative of the old woman's, and was spending his vacation here--would +pace around me in a wide circle, muttering from his book like a +conjurer, which was always sure to send me to sleep. Thus day after +day passed, until, what with the good eating and drinking, I began +to grow quite melancholy. My limbs became limp from perpetually doing +nothing, and I felt as if I should fall to pieces from sheer laziness. + +One sultry afternoon, I was sitting in the boughs of a tall tree that +overhung the valley, gently rocking myself above its quiet depths. The +bees were humming among the leaves around me; all else was silent +as the grave; not a human being was to be seen on the mountains, and +below me on the peaceful meadows the cows were resting in the high +grass. But from afar away the note of a post-horn floated across +the wooded heights, at first scarcely audible, then clearer and more +distinct. On the instant my heart reechoed an old song which I had +learned when at home at my father's mill from a traveling journeyman, +and I sang-- + + "Whenever abroad you are straying, + Take with you your dearest one; + While others are laughing and playing, + A stranger is left all alone. + + "And what know these trees, with their sighing, + Of an older, a lovelier day? + Alas, o'er yon blue mountains lying, + Thy home is so far, far away! + + "The stars in their courses I treasure, + My pathway to her they shone o'er; + The nightingale's song gives me pleasure, + It sang nigh my dearest one's door. + + "When starlight and dawn are contending, + I climb to the mountain-tops clear; + Thence gazing, my greeting I'm sending + To Germany, ever most dear." + +It seemed as if the post-horn in the distance would fain accompany +my song. While I was singing, it came nearer and nearer among the +mountains, until at last I heard it in the castle court-yard; I got +down from the tree as quickly as possible, in time to meet the old +woman with an opened packet coming toward me. "Here is something too +for you," she said, and handed me a neat little note. It was without +address; I opened it hastily, and on the instant flushed as red as a +peony, and my heart beat so violently that the old woman observed my +agitation. The note was from--my Lady fair, whose handwriting I had +often seen at the bailiff's. It was short: "All is well once more; all +obstacles are removed. I take a private opportunity to be the first to +write you the good news. Come, hasten back. It is so lonely here, and +I can scarcely bear to live since you left us. Aurelia." + +As I read, my eyes grew dim with rapture, alarm, and ineffable +delight. I was ashamed in presence of the old woman, who began to +smirk and wink odiously, and I flew like an arrow to the loneliest +nook of the garden. There I threw myself on the grass beneath the +hazel-bushes and read the note again, repeating the words by heart, +and then re-reading them over and over, while the sunlight danced +between the leaves upon the letters, so that they were blended and +blurred before my eyes like golden and bright-green and crimson +blossoms. "Is she not married, then?" I thought; "was that young +officer her brother, perhaps, or is he dead, or am I crazy, or--but no +matter!" I exclaimed at last, leaping to my feet. "It is clear enough, +she loves me! she loves me!" + +When I crept out of the shrubbery the sun was near its setting. The +heavens were red, the birds were singing merrily in the woods, +the valleys were full of a golden sheen, but in my heart all was a +thousand times more beautiful and more glad. + +I shouted to them in the castle to serve my supper out in the garden. +The old woman, the grim old man, the maids--I made them all come and +sit at table with me under the trees. I brought out my fiddle and +played, and ate and drank between-whiles. Then they all grew merry; +the old man smoothed the grim wrinkles out of his face, and emptied +glass after glass, the old woman chattered away--heaven knows about +what, and the maids began to dance together on the green-sward. At +last the pale student approached inquisitively, cast a scornful glance +at the party, and was about to pass on with great dignity. But I +sprang up in a twinkling, and, before he knew what I was about, +seized him by his long surtout and waltzed merrily round with him. +He actually began to try to dance after the latest and most approved +fashion, and footed it so nimbly that the moisture stood in beads upon +his forehead, his long coat flew round like a wheel, and he looked +at me so strangely withal, and his eyes rolled so, that I began to be +really afraid of him, and suddenly released him. + +The old woman was very curious to know the contents of the note, +and why I was so very merry of a sudden. But the matter was far too +intricate for me to be able to explain it to her. I merely pointed +to a couple of storks that were sailing through the air far above our +heads, and said that so must I go, far, far away. At this she opened +her bleared eyes wide, and cast a sinister glance first at me and then +at the old man. After that, I noticed as often as I turned away that +they put their heads together and talked eagerly, glancing askance +toward me from time to time. + +This puzzled me. I pondered upon what scheme they could be hatching, +and I grew more quiet. The sun had long set, so I wished them all good +night and betook myself thoughtfully to my bedroom. + +I felt so happy and so restless that for a long while I paced the +apartment to and fro. Outside, the wind was driving black, heavy +clouds high above the castle-tower; the nearest mountain-summit could +be scarcely discerned in the thick darkness. Then I thought I heard +voices in the garden below. I put out my candle and sat down at the +window. The voices seemed to come nearer, speaking in low tones, and +suddenly a long ray of light shot from a small lantern concealed +under the cloak of a dark figure. I instantly recognized the grim old +steward and the old housekeeper. The light flashed in the face of the +old woman, who looked to me more hideous than ever, and upon the blade +of a long knife which she held in her hand. I could plainly see that +both of them were looking up at my window. Then the steward folded his +cloak more closely, and all was dark and silent. + +"What do they want," I thought, "out in the garden, at this hour?" I +shuddered; I could not help recalling all the stories of murders that +I had ever heard--all the tales of witches and robbers who slaughtered +people that they might devour their hearts. Whilst I was filled with +such thoughts, I heard footsteps coming up the stairs softly, then +very softly along the narrow passage directly to my door; and at the +same time I thought I heard voices whispering together. I ran hastily +to the other end of the room and behind a large table, which I could +lift and bang against the door as soon as anything stirred outside. +But in the darkness I upset a chair, which made a tremendous crash. +In an instant all was profound silence outside. I listened behind the +table, staring at the door as if I could pierce it with my eyes, which +felt as if they were starting from my head. When I had kept so quiet +for a while that the buzzing of a fly could have been plainly heard, +I distinguished the sound of a key softly put into the keyhole of my +door on the outside. I was just about to make a demonstration with my +table, when the key was turned slowly three times round in the lock, +and then cautiously withdrawn, after which the footsteps retreated +along the passage and down the staircase. + +I took a long breath. "Oho!" I thought, "they have locked me up that +all may be easy when I am sound asleep." I tried the door, and found +it locked, as was also the other door, behind which the pale maid +slept. This had never been so before since I had been at the castle. + +Here was I imprisoned in a foreign land! The Lady fair undoubtedly was +even now standing at her window and looking across the quiet garden +toward the high-road, to see if I were not coming from the toll-house +with my fiddle. The clouds were scudding across the sky; time was +passing--and I could not get away. Ah, but my heart was sore; I did +not know what to do. And if the leaves rustled outside, or a rat +gnawed behind the wainscot, I fancied I saw the old woman gliding in +by a secret door and creeping softly through the room, with that long +knife in hand. + +As, given over to such fancies, I sat on the side of my bed, I heard, +the first time for a long while, the music beneath my window. At the +first twang of the guitar a ray of light darted into my soul. I opened +the window, and called down softly, that I was awake. "Pst, pst!" was +the answer from below. Without more ado, I thrust the note into my +pocket, took my fiddle, got out of the window, and scrambled down the +ruinous old wall, clinging to the vines growing from the crevices. +One or two crumbling stones gave way, and I began to slide faster and +faster, until at last I came down upon my feet with such a sudden bump +that my teeth rattled in my head. + +Scarcely had I thus reached the garden when I felt myself embraced +with such violence that I screamed aloud. My kind friend, however, +clapped his hand on my mouth, and, taking my arm, led me through the +shrubbery to the open lawn. Here, to my astonishment, I recognized the +tall student, who had a guitar slung around his neck by a broad silk +ribbon. I explained to him as quickly as possible that I wished to +escape from the garden. He seemed perfectly aware of my wishes, and +conducted me by various covert pathways to the lower door in the high +garden wall. But when we reached it, it was fast locked! The student, +however, seemed to be quite prepared for this; he produced a large key +and cautiously unlocked it. + +When we found ourselves in the forest, and I was about to inquire of +him the best road to the nearest town, he suddenly fell upon one knee +before me, raised a hand aloft, and began to curse and to swear in the +most horrible manner. I could not imagine what he wanted; I could +hear frequent repetitions of "_Iddio_" and "_cuore_" and "_amore_" and +"_furore_!" But when he began hobbling close up to me on both knees, +I grew positively terrified, I perceived clearly that he had lost his +wits, and I fled into the depths of the forest without looking back. + +I heard the student behind me shouting like one possessed, and soon +afterward a rough voice from the castle shouting in reply. I was sure +they would pursue me. The road was entirely unknown to me; the night +was dark; I should probably fall into their hands. Therefore I climbed +up into a tall tree to await my opportunity to escape. + +From here I could distinguish one voice after another calling in the +castle. Several links appeared in the garden, and cast a weird lurid +light over the old walls and down the mountain out into the black +night. I commended my soul to the Almighty, for the confused uproar +grew louder and nearer. At last the student, bearing aloft a torch, +ran past my tree below me so fast that the skirt of his surtout flew +out behind him in the wind. After this the tumult gradually retreated +to the other side of the mountain; the voices sounded more and more +distant, and at last the wind alone sighed through the silent forest. +I then descended from my tree and ran breathless down into the valley +and out into the night. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +I hurried on for the rest of the night and the next day, for there was +a din in my ears for a long time, as if all the people from the castle +were after me, shouting, waving torches, and brandishing long knives. +On the way I learned that I was only five or six miles from Rome, +whereat I could have jumped for joy. As a child at home I had heard +wonderful stories of gorgeous Rome, and as I lay on my back in the +grass on Sunday afternoons near the mill, and everything around was so +quiet, I used to picture Rome out of the clouds sailing above me, with +wondrous mountains and abysses, around the blue sea, with golden gates +and lofty gleaming towers, where angels in shining robes were singing. + +The night had come again, and the moon shone brilliantly, when at +last I emerged from the forest upon a hilltop, and saw the city lying +before me in the distance. The sea gleamed afar off, the heavens +glittered with innumerable stars, and beneath them lay the Holy City, +a long strip of mist, like a slumbering lion on the quiet earth, +watched and guarded by mountains around like shadowy giants. + +I soon reached an extensive, lonely heath, where all was gray and +silent as the grave. Here and there a ruined wall was still standing, +or some strangely-gnarled trunk of a tree; now and then night-birds +whirred through the air, and my own shadow glided long and black in +the solitude beside me. They say that a primeval city lies buried +here, and that Frau Venus makes it her abode, and that sometimes the +old pagans rise up from their graves and wander about the heath and +mislead travelers. I cared nothing, however, for such tales, but +walked on steadily, for the city arose before me more and more +distinct and magnificent, and the high castles and gates and golden +domes gleamed wondrously in the moonlight, as if angels in golden +garments were actually standing on the roofs and singing in the quiet +night. + +At last I passed some humble houses, and then through a gorgeous +gate-way into the famous city of Rome. The moon shone bright as day +among the palaces, but the streets were empty, except for some lazy +fellow lying dead asleep on a marble step in the warm night air. +The fountains plashed in the silent squares, and from the gardens +bordering the street the trees added their murmur, and filled the air +with refreshing fragrance. + +As I was sauntering on, not knowing--what with delight, moonlight, and +fragrance--which way to turn, I heard a guitar touched in the depths +of a garden. "Great heavens!" I thought, "the crazy student with his +long surtout has been secretly following me all this time." But in +a moment a lady in the garden began to sing deliciously. I stood +spellbound; it was the voice of the Lady fair! and the selfsame +Italian song which she often used to sing at her open window! + +Then the dear old time recurred so vividly to my mind that I could +have wept bitterly; I saw the quiet garden before the castle in the +early dawn, and thought how happy I had been among the shrubbery +before that stupid fly flew up my nose. I could restrain myself no +longer, but clambered over the gilded ornaments surmounting the grated +gate-way and leaped down into the garden whence the song proceeded. As +I did so I perceived a slender white figure standing in the distance +behind a poplar-tree, looking at me in amazement; but in an instant it +had turned and fled through the dim garden toward the house so quickly +that in the moonlight it seemed to glide. "It was she, herself!" I +exclaimed, and my heart throbbed with delight; I recognized her on the +instant by her pretty little fleet feet. It was unfortunate that in +clambering over the gate I had slightly twisted my ankle, and had to +limp along for a minute or two before I could run after her toward +the house. In the meanwhile the doors and windows had been closed. I +knocked modestly, listened, and then knocked again. I seemed to hear +low laughter and whispering within the house, and once I was almost +sure that a pair of bright eyes peeped between the jalousies in the +moonlight. But finally all was silent. + +"She does not know that it is I," I thought; I took out my fiddle, and +promenaded to and fro on the path before the house and sang the song +of the Lady fair and played over all my songs that I had been wont +to play on lovely summer nights in the castle garden, or on the +bench before the toll-house so that the sound should reach the castle +windows. But it was all of no use; no one stirred in the entire house. +Then I put away my fiddle sadly, and seated myself upon the door-step, +for I was very weary with my long march. The night was warm; the +flower-beds before the house sent forth a delicious fragrance, and a +fountain somewhere in the depths of the garden plashed continuously. I +thought dreamily of azure flowers, of dim, green, lovely, lonely spots +where brooks were rippling and gay birds singing, until at last I fell +sound asleep. + +When I awoke the fresh air of morning was playing over me; the birds +were already awake and twittering in the trees around, as if they were +making game of me. I started up and looked about; the fountain in +the garden was still playing, but nothing was to be heard within the +house. I peeped through the green blinds into one of the rooms, where +I could see a sofa and a large round table covered with gray linen. +The chairs were all standing against the wall in perfect order; +the blinds were down at all the windows, as if the house had been +uninhabited for example, with many a loving thought of my fair, +distant home. + +Meanwhile, the painter had arranged near the window one of the frames +upon which a large piece of paper was stretched. An old hovel was +cleverly drawn in charcoal upon the paper, and within it sat the +Blessed Virgin with a lovely, happy face, upon which there was withal +a shade of melancholy. At her feet in a little nest of straw lay the +Infant Jesus--very lovely, with large serious eyes. Without, upon the +threshold of the open door were kneeling two shepherd lads with staff +and wallet. "You see," said the painter, "I am going to put your head +upon one of these shepherds, and so people will know your face and, +please God, take pleasure in it long after we are both under the sod, +and are ourselves kneeling happily before the Blessed Mother and her +Son like those shepherd lads." Then he seized an old chair, the back +of which came off in his hand as he lifted it. He soon fitted it into +its place again, however, pushed it in front of the frame, and I had +to sit down on it, and turn my face sideways to him. I sat thus +for some minutes perfectly still, without stirring. After a while, +however--I am sure I do not know why--I felt that I could endure it +no longer; every part of me began to twitch, and besides, there hung +directly in front of me a piece of broken looking-glass into which I +could not help glancing perpetually, making all sorts of grimaces from +sheer weariness. The painter, noticing this, burst into a laugh, and +waved his hand to signify that I might leave my chair. My face upon +the paper was already finished, and was so exactly like me that I was +immensely pleased with it. + +The young man went on painting in the cool morning, singing as he +worked, and sometimes looking from the open window at the glorious +landscape. I, in the meantime, spread myself another piece of bread +and butter, and walked up and down the room, looking at the pictures +leaning against the wall. Two of them pleased me especially. "Did you +paint these, too?" I asked the painter. "Not exactly," he replied. +"They are by the famous masters Leonardo da Vinci and Guido Reni; but +you know nothing about them." I was nettled by the conclusion of his +remark. "Oh," I rejoined very composedly, "I know those two masters as +well as I know myself." He opened his eyes at this. "How so?" he +asked hastily. "Well," said I, "I traveled with them day and night, on +horseback, on foot, and driving at a pace that made the wind whistle +in my ears, and I lost them both at an inn, and then traveled post +alone in their coach, which went bumping on two wheels over the rocks, +and--" "Oho! oho!" the painter interrupted me, staring at me as if he +thought me mad. Then he suddenly burst into a fit of laughter. "Ah," +he cried, "now I begin to understand. You traveled with two painters +called Guido and Lionardo?" When I assented, he sprang up and looked +me all over from head to foot. "I verily believe," he said "that +actually--Can you play the violin?" I struck the pocket of my coat so +that my fiddle gave forth a tone, and the painter went on: "There was +a Countess here lately from Germany, who made inquiries in every nook +and corner of Rome for those two painters and a young musician with a +fiddle." "A young Countess from Germany!" I cried in an ecstasy. "Was +the Porter with her?" "Ah, that I do not know," replied the painter. +"I saw her only once or twice at the house of one of her friends, +who does not live in the city. Do you know this face?" he went on, +suddenly lifting the covering from a large picture standing in a +corner. In an instant I felt as we do when in a dark room the shutters +are opened and the rising sun flashes in our eyes. It was--the lovely +Lady fair! She was standing in the garden, in a black velvet gown, +lifting her veil from her face with one hand, and looking abroad +over a distant and beautiful landscape. The longer I looked the more +vividly did it seem to be the castle garden, and the flowers and +boughs waved in the wind, while in the depths of green I could see +my little toll-house, and the high-road, and the Danube, and in the +distance the blue mountains. + +"'Tis she! 'tis she!" I exclaimed at last, and, seizing my hat, I +ran out of the door and down the long staircase, while the astonished +painter called after me to come back toward evening, and we might +perhaps learn something more. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +I ran in a great hurry through the city to present myself immediately +at the house, in the garden of which the Lady fair had been singing +yesterday evening. The streets were full of people; gentlemen and +ladies were enjoying the sunshine and exchanging greetings, elegant +coaches rolled past, and the bells in all the towers were summoning +to mass, making wondrous melody in the air above the heads of the +swarming crowd. I was intoxicated with delight, and with the hubbub, +and ran on in my joy until at last I had no idea where I was. It was +like enchantment; the quiet Square with the fountain, and the garden +and the house, seemed the fabric of a dream, which had vanished in the +clear light of day. + +I could not make any inquiries, for I did not know the name of the +Square. At last it began to be very sultry; the sun's rays darted down +upon the pavement like burning arrows, people crept into their houses, +the blinds everywhere were closed, and the street became once more +silent and dead. I threw myself down in despair in front of a fine, +large house with a balcony resting upon pillars and affording a deep +shade, and surveyed, first the quiet city, which looked absolutely +weird in its sudden noonday solitude, and anon the deep blue, +perfectly cloudless sky, until, tired out, I fell asleep. I dreamed +that I was lying in a lonely green meadow near my native village; a +warm summer rain was falling and glittering in the sun, which was just +setting behind the mountains, and whenever the raindrops fell upon the +grass they turned into beautiful, bright flowers, so that I was soon +covered with them. + +What was my astonishment when I awoke to find a quantity of beautiful, +fresh flowers lying upon me and beside me! I sprang up, but could see +nothing unusual, except that in the house above me there was a window +filled with fragrant shrubs and flowers, behind which a parrot talked +and screamed incessantly. I picked up the scattered flowers, tied them +together, and stuck the nosegay in my button-hole. Then I began to +discourse with the parrot; it amused me to see him get up and down in +his gilded cage with all sorts of odd twists and turns of his head, +and always stepping awkwardly over his own toes. But before I was +aware of it he was scolding me for a _furfante_! Even though it were +only a senseless bird, it irritated me. I scolded him back; we both +got angry; the more I scolded in German, the more he abused me in +Italian. + +Suddenly I heard some one laughing behind me. I turned quickly, and +perceived the painter of the morning. "What nonsense are you at now!" +he said. "I have been waiting for you for half an hour. The air has +grown cooler: we will go to a garden in the suburbs where you will +find several fellow-countrymen, and perhaps learn something further of +the German Countess." + +I was charmed with this proposal, and we set out immediately, the +parrot screaming out abuse of me as I left him. + +After we had walked for a long while outside of the city, ascending by +a narrow, stony pathway an eminence dotted with villas and vineyards, +we reached a small garden very high up, where several young men and +maidens were sitting in the open air about a round table. As soon +as we made our appearance they all signed to us to keep silence, +and pointed toward the other end of the garden, where in a large, +vine-wreathed arbor two beautiful ladies were sitting opposite each +other at a table. One was singing, while the other accompanied her +on the guitar. Between them stood a pleasant-looking gentleman, who +occasionally beat time with a small baton. The setting sun shone +through the vine-leaves, upon the fruits and flasks of wine with which +the table was provided, and upon the plump, white shoulders of the +lady with the guitar. The other one grimaced so that she looked +convulsed, but she sang in Italian in so extremely artistic a manner +that the sinews in her neck stood out like cords. + +Just as she was executing a long cadenza with her eyes turned up to +the skies, while the gentleman beside her held his baton suspended in +the air waiting the moment when she would fall into the beat again, +the garden gate was flung open, and a girl looking very much heated, +and a young man with a pale, delicate face, entered, quarreling +violently. The conductor, startled, stood with raised baton like a +petrified conjurer, although the singer had some time before snapped +short her long trill and had arisen angrily from the table. All the +others turned upon the new arrivals in a rage. "You savage," some one +at the round table called out, "you have interrupted the most perfect +tableau of the description which the late Hoffmann gives on page 347 +of the _Ladies' Annual_ for 1816 of the finest of Hummel's pictures +exhibited in the autumn of 1814 at the Berlin Art-Exposition!" But +it did no good. "What do I care," the young man retorted, "for your +tableau of tableaux! My picture any one may have; my sweetheart I +choose to keep for myself. Oh, you faithless, false-hearted girl!" he +went on to his poor companion, "you fine critic to whom a painter is +nothing but a tradesman, and a poet only a money-maker; you care for +nothing save flirtation! May you fall to the lot, not of an honest +artist, but of an old Duke with a diamond-mine and beplastered with +gold and silver foil! Out with the cursed note that you tried to hide +from me! What have you been scribbling? From whom did it come, or to +whom is it going?" + +But the girl resisted him steadfastly, and the more the other young +men present tried to soothe and pacify the angry lover, the more +he scolded and threatened; particularly as the girl herself did not +restrain her little tongue, until at last she extricated herself, +weeping aloud, from the confused coil, and unexpectedly threw herself +into my arms for protection. I immediately assumed the correct +attitude; but since the rest paid no attention to us, she suddenly +composed her face and whispered hastily in my ear, "You odious +Receiver! it is all on your account. There, stuff the wretched note +into your pocket; you will find out from it where we live. When you +approach the gate, at the appointed hour, turn into the lonely street +on the right hand." + +I was too much amazed to utter a word, for, now that I looked closely, +I recognized her at once; actually it was the pert lady's-maid of +the Castle who had brought me the flask of wine on that lovely Sunday +afternoon. She never looked as pretty as now, when, heated by her +quarrel, she leaned against my shoulder, and her black curls hung down +over my arm. "But, dear ma'amselle," I said in astonishment, "how do +you come--" "For heaven's sake, hush!--be quiet!" she replied, and in +an instant, before I could fairly collect myself, she had left me and +had fled across the garden. + +Meanwhile, the others had almost entirely forgotten the original cause +of the turmoil, and now took a pleasing interest in proving to the +young man that he was intoxicated--a great disgrace for an honorable +painter. The stout, smiling gentleman from the arbor, who was--as I +afterward learned--a great connoisseur and patron of Art, and who was +always ready to lend his aid for the love of Science, had thrown aside +his baton, and showed his broad face, fairly shining with good humor, +in the midst of the thickest confusion, zealously striving to restore +peace and order, but regretting between-whiles the loss of the long +cadenza, and of the beautiful tableau which he had taken such pains to +arrange. + +In my heart all was as serenely bright as on that blissful Sunday when +I had played on my fiddle far into the night at the open window where +stood the flask of wine. Since the rumpus showed no signs of abating, +I hastily pulled out my violin, and without more ado played an Italian +dance, popular among the mountains, which I had learned at the old +castle in the forest. + +All turned their heads to listen. "Bravo! Bravissimo! A delicious +idea!" cried the merry connoisseur of Art, running from one to another +to arrange a rustic _divertissement_, as he called it. He made a +beginning himself by leading out the lady who had played the guitar +in the arbor. Thereupon he began to dance with extraordinary artistic +skill, and describe all sorts of letters on the grass with the points +of his toes, really trilling with his feet, and now and then jumping +pretty high in the air. But he soon had enough of it, for he was +rather corpulent. His jumps grew fewer and clumsier, until at last he +withdrew from the circle, puffing violently, and mopping the moisture +from his forehead with a snowy pocket-handkerchief. Meanwhile, the +young man, who had regained his composure, brought from the inn some +castanets, and before I was aware all were dancing merrily beneath the +trees. The sun had set, but the crimson sky in the west cast bright +reflections among the shadows, and upon the old walls and the +half-buried columns covered with ivy in the depths of the garden, +while below the vineyards we could see the Eternal City bathed in the +evening glow. The dance in the still, clear air was charming, and +my heart within me laughed to see how the slender girls and the +lady's-maid glided among the trees with arms upraised like heathen +wood-nymphs, and kept time to the music with their castanets. At last +I could no longer restrain myself; I joined their ranks, and danced +away merrily, still fiddling all the time. + +I had been hopping about thus for some minutes, not noticing that the +others were beginning to be tired and were dropping out of the +dance, when I felt some one twitch me by the coat-tail. It was the +lady's-maid. "Don't be a fool," she said under her breath; "you are +jumping about like a kid! Read your note, and come soon; the beautiful +young Countess awaits you." She slipped out of the garden in the +twilight and vanished among the vineyards. + +My heart beat fast; I longed to follow her. Fortunately, a waiter was +just lighting the lantern over the garden gate. I took out my note, +which contained a somewhat rudely penciled plan of the gate and the +streets leading to it, just as I had been directed by the lady's-maid, +and in addition the words "Eleven o'clock, at the little door." + +Two long hours to wait! Nevertheless I should have set out +immediately, for I could not stay still, had not the painter, who had +brought me hither, rushed up. "Did you speak to the girl?" he asked. +"I cannot see her now. It was the German Countess's maid." "Hush, +hush!" I replied; "the Countess is still in Rome." "So much the +better," said the painter; "come then and drink her health." And in +spite of all I could say he forced me to return to the garden with +him. + +It looked quite deserted. The merry company had departed, and were +sauntering toward Rome, each lad with his lass upon his arm. We +could hear them talking and laughing among the vineyards in the quiet +evening, until at last their voices died away in the valley below, +lost in the rustling of the trees and the murmur of the stream. I +stayed with my painter and Herr Eckbrecht, which was the name of the +other young painter who had been quarreling with the maid. The moon +shone brilliantly through the tall, dark evergreens; a candle on the +table before us flickered in the breeze and gleamed over the wine +spilled copiously around it. I had to sit down with my companions, and +my painter chatted with me about my native village, my travels, and +my plans for the future. Herr Eckbrecht had seated upon his knee the +pretty girl who had brought us our wine, and was teaching her the +accompaniment of a song on the guitar. Her slender fingers soon picked +out the correct chords, and they sang together an Italian song; +first he sang a verse, and then the girl sang the next; it sounded +deliciously, in the clear, bright evening. When the girl was called +away, Herr Eckbrecht, taking no further notice of us, leaned back on +his bench with his feet on a low stool and played and sang many an +exquisite song. The stars glittered; the landscape turned to silver in +the moonlight; I thought of the Lady fair, and of my far-off home, and +quite forgot the painter at my side. Herr Eckbrecht had occasionally +to tune his instrument; whereat he grew downright angry, and at last +he screwed a string so tight that it broke, whereupon he tossed aside +the guitar and sprang to his feet, noticing for the first time that +my painter had laid his head on his arm upon the table and was fast +asleep. He hastily wrapped around him a white cloak which hung on a +bough near by, then suddenly paused, glanced keenly at my painter, and +then at me several times, then seated himself on the table directly +in front of me, cleared his throat, settled his cravat, and instantly +began to hold forth to me. "Beloved hearer and fellow-countryman," +he said, "since the bottles are nearly empty, and morality is +indisputably the first duty of a citizen when the virtues are on the +wane, I feel myself moved, out of sympathy for a fellow-countryman, +to present for your consideration a few moral axioms. It might be +supposed," he went on, "that you are a mere youth, whereas your coat +has evidently seen its best years; it might be supposed that you had +leaped about like a satyr; nay, some might maintain that you are a +vagabond, because you are out here in the country and play the fiddle; +but I am influenced by no such superficial considerations; I form my +judgment on your delicately chiseled nose; I take you for a strolling +genius." His ambiguous phrases irritated me; I was about to retort +sharply. But he gave me no chance to speak. "Observe," he said, "how +you are puffed up by a modicum of praise. Retire within yourself +and ponder upon your perilous vocation. We geniuses--for I am one +too--care as little for the world as it cares for us; without any ado, +in the seven-league boots which we bring into the world with us, we +stride on directly into eternity. A most lamentable, inconvenient +straddling position this--one leg in the future, where nothing is to +be discerned but the rosy morn and the faces of future children, the +other leg still in the middle of Rome, in the Piazza del Popolo, +where the entire present century would fain seize the opportunity to +advance, and clings to the boot tight enough to pull the leg off! And +then all this restlessness, wine-bibbing, and hunger solely for an +immortal eternity! And look you at my comrade there on the bench, +another genius; his time hangs heavy on his hands here and now, what +under heaven is he to do in eternity? Yes, my highly-esteemed comrade, +you and I and the sun rose early together this morning, and have +pondered and painted all day long, and it was all beautiful--and now +the drowsy night passes its furred sleeve over the world and wipes +out all the colors." He kept on talking for a long while, his hair all +disheveled with dancing and drinking, and his face looking deadly pale +in the moonlight. + +But I was seized with a horror of him and of his wild talk, and when +he turned and addressed the sleeping painter I took advantage of the +opportunity and slipped round the table, without being perceived +by him, and out of the garden. Thence, alone and glad at heart, I +descended through the vine-trellises into the wide moonlit valley. + +The clocks in the city were striking ten. Behind me, in the quiet +night, I still heard an occasional note of the guitar, and at times +the voices of the two painters, going home at last, were audible. I +ran on as quickly as possible, that they might not overtake me. + +At the city-gate I turned into the street on the right hand, and +hurried on with a throbbing heart among the silent houses and gardens. +To my amazement, I suddenly found myself in the very Square with the +fountain, for which, by daylight, I had vainly searched. There stood +the solitary summer-house again in the glorious moonlight, and again +the Lady fair was singing the same Italian song as on the evening +before. In an ecstasy I tried first the low door, then the house door, +and at last the big garden gate, but all were locked. Then first it +occurred to me that eleven had not yet struck. I was irritated by the +slow flight of time, but good manners forbade my climbing over the +garden gate as I had done yesterday. Therefore I paced the lonely +Square to and fro for a while, and at last again seated myself upon +the basin of the fountain and resigned myself to meditation and calm +expectancy. + +The stars twinkled in the skies; the Square was quiet and deserted; I +listened with delight to the song of the Lady fair, as it mingled with +the ripple of the fountain. All at once I perceived a white figure +approach from the opposite side of the Square and go directly +toward the little garden door. I peered eagerly through the dazzling +moonlight--it was the queer painter in his white cloak. He drew forth +a key quickly, unlocked the door, and, before I knew it, was within +the garden. + +I had from the first entertained a special dislike of this painter on +account of his nonsensical talk. But now I fell into a rage with him. +"The low fellow is certainly intoxicated again," I thought; "he has +got the key from the maid, and intends to surprise, and perhaps to +assault, the Lady fair." And I rushed precipitately through the low +door, which was still open, into the garden. + +When I entered, all was quiet and lonely. The folding-doors of the +summer-house were open, and a ray of lamplight issuing from it played +upon the grass and flowers near. Even from a distance I could see the +interior. In a magnificent apartment, hung with green and partially +illumined by a lamp with a white shade, the lovely Lady fair with +her guitar was reclining on a silken lounge, never dreaming, in her +innocence, of the danger without. + +I had not much time, however, to look, for I perceived the white +figure among the shrubbery, stealthily approaching the summer-house +from the opposite side, while the song floating on the air from the +house was so melancholy that it went to my very soul. I therefore took +no long time for reflection, but broke off a stout bough from a tree, +and rushed at the white-cloaked figure, shouting "Murder!" so that the +garden rang again. + +The painter when he beheld me appear thus unexpectedly took to his +heels, screaming frightfully. I screamed louder still. He ran toward +the house, and I after him, and I had very nearly caught him, when I +became entangled in some plaguy trailing vines, and measured my length +upon the ground just before the front door. + +"So it is you, is it, you fool!" I heard some one say above me. "You +frightened me nearly to death." I picked myself up, and when I had +wiped my eyes clear of dust, I saw before me the lady's-maid, from +whose shoulders the white cloak was just falling. "But," said I, in +confusion, "was not the painter here?" "He was," she replied, saucily; +"at least his cloak was, which he put around me when I met him at the +gate, because I was cold." The Lady fair, hearing the noise, sprang +up from the lounge and came out to us. My heart beat as if it would +burst; but what was my dismay when I looked at her, and instead of the +lovely Lady fair saw an entire stranger! + +She was a rather tall, stout lady, with a haughty, hooked nose and +high-arched black eyebrows, very beautiful and imposing. She looked +at me so majestically out of her big, glittering eyes that I was +overwhelmed with awe. So confused was I that I could only make bow +after bow, and at last I attempted to kiss her hand. But she snatched +it from me, and said something in Italian to her maid which I could +not understand. + +Meanwhile, the racket I had made had aroused the entire neighborhood. +Dogs barked, children screamed, and men's voices were heard, +approaching the garden. The Lady gave me another glance, as though she +would have liked to pierce me through and through with fiery bullets, +then turned hastily and went into the room, with a haughty, forced +laugh, slamming the door directly in my face. The maid seized me by +the sleeve and pulled me toward the garden gate. + +"Your stupidity is beyond belief!" she said in the most spiteful way +as we went along. I too was furious. "What the devil did you mean," +I said, "by telling me to come here?" "That's just it!" exclaimed +the girl. "My Countess favored you so--first threw flowers out of +the window to you, sang songs--and _this_ is her reward! But there is +absolutely nothing to be done with you; you positively throw away +your luck." "But," I rejoined, "I meant the Countess from Germany, +the lovely Lady fair--" "Oh," she interrupted me, "she went back to +Germany long ago, with your crazy passion for her. And you'd better +run after her! No doubt she is pining for you, and you can play the +fiddle together and gaze at the moon, only for pity's sake let me see +no more of you!" + +All was confusion about us by this time. People from the next garden +were climbing over the fence armed with clubs, others were searching +among the paths and avenues; frightened faces in nightcaps appeared +here and there in the moonlight; it seemed as if the devil had let +loose upon us a mob of evil spirits. The lady's-maid was nowise +daunted. "There, there goes the thief!" she called out to the people, +pointing across the garden. Then she pushed me out of the gate and +clapped it to behind me. + +There I stood once more beneath the stars in the deserted Square, +as forlorn as when I had seen it first the day before. The fountain, +which had but now seemed to sparkle as merrily in the moonlight as if +cherubs were flitting up and down in it, plashed on, but all joy and +happiness were buried beneath its waters. I determined to turn my back +forever on treacherous Italy, with its crazy painters, its oranges, +and its lady's-maids, and that very hour I wandered forth through the +gate. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + On guard the faithful mountains stand: + "Who wanders o'er the moorland there + From other climes, in morning fair?" + And as I look far o'er the land, + For very glee my heart laughs out. + The joyous "vivats" then I shout; + Watchword and battle-cry shall be: + Austria, for thee! + + The landscape far and near I know; + The birds and brooks and forests fair + Send me their greetings on the air; + The Danube sparkles down below; + St. Stephen's spire far in the blue + Seems waving me a welcome too. + Warm to its core my heart shall be, + Austria, for thee! + + +I was standing on the summit of a mountain whence the first view of +Austria can be had, and I waved my hat joyfully in the air as I sang +the last verse, when suddenly from the forest behind me some fine +instrumental music joined in. I turned quickly and perceived three +young fellows in long blue cloaks, one playing a hautboy, another a +clarionet, and the third, who wore an old three-cornered hat, a horn. +They played an accompaniment to my song, which made the woods ring +again. I, nothing loath, took out my fiddle, and played and sang with +a will. Then one glanced meaningly at the others; he who played the +horn stopped puffing out his cheeks and took the instrument down from +his mouth; at last they all ceased playing, and stared at me. I ended +my performance also, and in turn stared at them. "We supposed," the +cornetist said at last, "from the length of the gentleman's coat that +he was a traveling Englishman, journeying afoot here to admire the +beauties of nature, and we thought we might perhaps earn a trifle for +our own travels. But the gentleman seems to be a musician himself." +"Properly speaking, a Receiver," I interposed, "and I come at present +directly from Rome; but, as it is some time since I received anything, +I have paid my way with my violin." "'Tis not worth much nowadays," +said the cornetist, as he betook himself to the woods again, and +began fanning with his cocked hat a fire that they had kindled there. +"Wind-instruments are more profitable," he continued. "When a noble +family is seated quietly at their mid-day meal, and we unexpectedly +enter their vaulted vestibule and all three begin to blow with all our +might, a servant is sure to come running out to us with money or food, +just to get rid of the noise. But will you not share our repast?" + +The fire in the forest was burning cheerily, the morning was fresh; we +all sat down on the grass, and two of the musicians took from the fire +a can in which there was coffee with milk. Then they brought forth +some bread from the pockets of their cloaks, and each dipped it in the +can and drank turn about with such relish that it was a pleasure to +see them. But the cornetist said, "I never could endure the black +slops," and, after handing me a huge slice of bread and butter, he +brought out a bottle of wine, from which he offered me a draught. I +took a good pull at it, but had to put it down in a hurry with my face +all of a pucker, for it tasted like "old Gooseberry." "The wine of +the country," said the cornetist; "but Italy has probably spoilt your +German taste." + +Then he rummaged in his wallet, and finally produced from among all +sorts of rubbish an old, tattered map of the country, in the corner +of which the emperor in his royal robes was still to be discerned, a +sceptre in his right hand, the orb in his left. This map he carefully +spread out upon the ground; the others drew nearer, and they all +consulted together as to their route. + +"The vacation is nearly over," said one; "let us turn to the left as +soon as we leave Linz, so as to be in Prague in time." "Upon my word!" +exclaimed the cornetist. "Whom do you propose to pipe to on that road? +Nobody there save wood-choppers and charcoal-burners; no culture nor +taste for art--no station where one can spend a night for nothing!" +"Oh, nonsense!" rejoined the other. "I like the peasants best; +they know where the shoe pinches, and are not so particular if +you sometimes blow a false note." "That is, you have no _point +d'honneur_," said the cornetist. "_Odi profanum vulgus et arceo_, as +the Latin has it." "Well, there must be some churches on the road," +struck in the third; "we can stop at the Herr Pastors'." "No, I thank +you," said the cornetist; "they give little money, but long sermons on +the folly of philandering about the world when we might be acquiring +knowledge, and they wax specially eloquent when they sniff in me a +future member of their fraternity. No, no, _clericus clericum non +decimat_. But why be in such a hurry? The Herr Professors are still +at Carlsbad, and are sure not to be precise about the very day." "Nay, +_distinguendum est inter et inter_," replied the other; "_quod licet +Jovi, non licet bovi_!" + +I now saw that they were students from Prague, and I conceived a +great respect for them, especially as they spoke Latin like their +mother-tongue. "Is the gentleman a student?" the cornetist asked me. I +replied modestly that I had always been very fond of study, but that I +had had no money. "That's of no consequence," said the cornetist; "we +have neither money nor rich patrons, but we get along by mother-wit. +_Aurora musis amica_, which means, being interpreted, 'Do not waste +too much time at breakfast.' But when the bells at noon echo from +tower to tower, and from mountain to mountain, and the scholars crowd +out of the old dark lecture-room, and swarm shouting through the +streets, we betake us to the Capuchin monastery, to the father who +presides in the refectory, where there is sure to be a table spread +for us, or if not actually spread, there will be at least a dish +apiece, and we fall to, and perfect ourselves at the same time in our +Latin. So you see we study right ahead from day to day. And when at +last the vacation comes, and all the others depart for their homes, +by coach or on horseback, then we stroll forth through the streets and +through the city gate with our instruments under our cloaks and the +world before us." + +I can't tell how it was, but, while he spoke, the thought that such +learned people were so forlorn and forsaken in this world went to +my very heart. And then I thought of myself, and how I was not much +better off, and the tears came into my eyes. The cornetist eyed me +askance. "I wouldn't give a fig," he went on, "to travel with horses, +and coffee, and freshly-made beds, and nightcaps and boot-jacks, all +ordered beforehand. It's just the delightful part of it that, when +we set out early in the morning, and the birds of passage are winging +their flight high in the air above us, we do not know what chimney is +smoking for us today, and can never foresee what special piece of luck +may befall us before evening." "Yes," said the other, "and wherever we +go, and take out our instruments, people are merry; and when we play +at noon in the vestibule of some great country-house, the maids will +dance before the door, and their masters and mistresses will have the +drawing-room door opened a little, the better to hear the music, and +the clatter of plates and the smell of the roast float out through the +chink, and the young misses at table well-nigh twist their necks off +to see the musicians outside." "That's true!" exclaimed the cornetist, +with sparkling eyes. "Let who will pore over their compendiums, we +choose to study in the vast picture-book which the dear God spreads +open before us! Yes, the gentleman may believe me, we make the right +sort of fellows, who know how to preach to the peasants from the +pulpit and to bang the cushion, so that the clodpoles down below are +ready to burst with humiliation and edification." + +At hearing them talk thus, I became so pleased and interested that I +longed to be a student too. I could have listened forever, for I enjoy +the conversation of men of learning, from whom much is to be gained. +But we had no real, sensible conversation, for one of the students +was worried because the vacation was so nearly at an end. He put his +clarionet together, set up a sheet of music on his knees, and began to +practice a difficult passage from a mass which was to be played when +they returned to Prague. There he sat and fingered and played away, +sometimes so false that it fairly pierced your ears and you couldn't +hear your own voice. + +Suddenly the cornetist exclaimed in his bass tones, "I have it!" and +down came his fist on the map before him. The other stopped practising +for a moment, and looked at him in surprise. "Hark ye," said the +cornetist, "there is a castle not far from Vienna, and in that +castle there is a porter, and that porter is my cousin! Dearest +fellow-students, that must be our goal; we must pay our respects to +my cousin, and he will arrange for our further journey." When I heard +that, I sprang to my feet. "Doesn't he play on the bassoon?" I +cried. "Is he not tall and straight, with a big, prominent nose?" The +cornetist nodded, upon which I embraced him so enthusiastically that +his three-cornered hat fell off, and we all immediately determined +to take the mail-boat on the Danube to the castle of the beautiful +Countess. + +When we arrived at the wharf all was ready for departure. The fat host +before whose inn the ship had lain all night was standing broad and +cheery in his door-way, which he quite filled, shouting out all sorts +of jokes and farewell speeches, while from every window a girl's head +was poked out nodding to the sailors, who were just carrying the last +packages aboard. An elderly gentleman with a gray overcoat and a +black neckerchief, who was also going in the boat, stood on the shore +talking very earnestly with a slim young fellow in leather breeches +and a trig scarlet jacket, mounted on a magnificent chestnut. To my +great surprise, they seemed to glance at times toward me, and to be +speaking of me. At last the old gentleman laughed, and the slim young +fellow cracked his riding-whip and galloped off through the fresh +morning across the shining landscape, with the larks soaring above +him. + +Meanwhile, the students and I had combined our resources. The +captain laughed and shook his head when the cornetist counted out our +passage-money to him in coppers, for which we had diligently searched +every corner of our pockets. I shouted aloud when I once more saw the +Danube before me; we hurried aboard, the captain gave the signal, and +away we glided in the brilliant morning sunshine past the meadows and +the mountains. + +The birds in the woods were singing, and the morning bells echoed afar +from the villages on each side of us, while overhead the larks' clear +notes were now and then heard. On the boat a canary-bird in its cage +trilled and twittered back so that it was a delight to listen to it. + +It belonged to a pretty young girl who was on the boat with us. She +kept the cage close beside her, and under the other arm she had a +small bundle of linen; she sat by herself, quite still, looking in +great content, now at her new traveling-shoes, which peeped out from +beneath her petticoats, and now down at the water, while the morning +sun shone on her white forehead, above which the hair was neatly +parted. I noticed that the students would have liked to engage her in +polite discourse, for they kept passing to and fro before her, and the +cornetist, whenever he did so, cleared his throat, and settled, first +his cravat, and then his three-cornered hat. But their courage failed +them, and moreover the girl cast down her eyes as soon as they, +approached her. + +They seemed, besides, to stand in special awe of the elderly gentleman +in the gray overcoat, who was now sitting on the other side of the +boat, and whom they took for a divine. He held an open breviary, in +which he was reading, looking up from it frequently to admire the +lovely scenery, while the gilt edges of the book and the gay pictures +of saints laid between its leaves shone brilliantly in the sun light. +He was perfectly well aware, too, of what was going on around him, +and soon recognized the birds by their feathers, for before long he +addressed one of the students in Latin, whereupon all three approached +him, took off their hats, and made answer also in Latin. + +Meanwhile, I had seated myself at the prow of the boat, where, highly +delighted, I dangled my legs above the water, gazing, while the boat +glided onward and the waves below me leaped and foamed, constantly +into the blue distance, watching towers and castles one after another +emerge from the dim depths of green, grow and grow upon the sight, +and finally recede and vanish behind us. "If I had but wings at this +moment!" I thought; and at last in my impatience I drew forth my dear +violin and played all my oldest pieces, which I had learned at home +and at the castle of the Lady fair. + +All at once some one behind me tapped me on the shoulder. It was +the reverend gentleman, who had laid aside his book, and had been +listening to me for a while. "Aha," he said laughing, "aha, my young +_ludi magister_ is forgetting to eat and drink!" Whereupon he bade me +put away my fiddle and take a bit of luncheon with him, and he then +led me to a pleasant little arbor which the boatmen had erected in +the centre of the boat out of young birches and firs. He had a table +placed beneath it, and I and the students, and even the young girl, +were invited to sit down around it upon the casks and packages. + +The reverend gentleman now produced cold meat and bread and butter, +which had all been carefully wrapped in paper, and took from a case +several bottles of wine and a silver goblet, gilt inside, which he +filled, tasted first himself, then smelled, tasted again, and finally +presented to each of us in turn. The students sat bolt upright on +their casks, and only sipped a little, so great was their awe. The +girl, too, just dipped her little beak in the goblet, glancing shyly +first at me and then at the students; but the oftener she looked at us +the bolder she grew. + +At last she informed the reverend gentleman that she was leaving her +home for the first time, to go into service at a certain castle, and +as she spoke I blushed all over, for the castle she mentioned was +that of the Lady fair. "Then she is my future lady's maid!" I thought, +staring at her, and feeling almost giddy. "There is soon to be a grand +wedding at the castle," said his reverence. "Yes," replied the girl, +who would have liked to learn more of the matter; "they say it is an +old secret attachment, but that the Countess could never be brought to +give her consent." His reverence replied only by "hm! hm!" refilling +his goblet, and sipping from it with a thoughtful air. I leaned +forward with both elbows on the table, that I might lose no word of +the conversation. His reverence observed it. "Let me tell you," he +began again, "that both Countesses sent me forth to discover whether +the bridegroom be not in the country hereabouts. A lady wrote from +Rome that he left there some time ago." When he began about the +lady in Rome I blushed again. "Is your reverence acquainted with the +bridegroom?" I asked, in confusion. "No," replied the old gentleman; +"but they say he is a gay bird." "Oh, yes," said I, hastily, "a bird +that escapes as soon as it can from every cage, and sings gaily when +it regains its freedom." "And wanders about in foreign countries," the +old gentleman continued, composedly, "goes everywhere at night, +and sleeps on door-steps in the daytime." That vexed me extremely. +"Reverend sir," I exclaimed, with some heat, "you have been falsely +informed. The bridegroom is a slender, moral, promising youth, who has +been living in luxury in an old castle in Italy, and has associated +solely with Countesses, famous painters, and lady's-maids, who knows +perfectly well how to take care of his money, if he had any, who--" +"Come, come, I had no idea that you knew him so well," the divine here +interrupted me, laughing so heartily that he grew quite purple in the +face and the tears rolled down his cheeks. "But I heard," the girl +interposed, "that the bridegroom was a stout, very wealthy gentleman." +"Good heavens, yes, yes, to be sure! Confusion worse confounded!" +exclaimed his reverence, laughing so that it brought on a fit of +coughing. When he had somewhat recovered himself, he raised his goblet +aloft and cried, "Here's to the bridal pair!" I did not know what +to make of the reverend gentleman and his talk, and I was ashamed, +because of my adventures in Rome, to tell him here before all these +people that I myself was the missing thrice happy bridegroom. + +The goblet kept passing from hand to hand; the reverend gentleman +had a kind word for every one, so that all liked him, and finally the +entire company chatted gaily together. The students grew more and more +loquacious, recounting their experiences in the mountains, and at last +brought out their instruments and played away merrily. The cool breeze +from the water sighed through the leaves of the arbor, the afternoon +sun gilded the woods and vales which flew past us, while the shores +echoed back the notes of the horn. And when the reverend gentleman, +stimulated by the music, grew more and more genial, and told us +stories of his youth, how in vacation-time he too had wandered over +hills and dales, and had been often hungry and thirsty, but always +happy, and how, in fact, a student's whole life, from its first day in +the narrow, dry lecture-room to its last, is one long vacation, then +the students drank all around once more, and struck up a song, that +reechoed among the distant mountains + + "The birds are southward winging + Their yearly, airy flight, + And roving lads are swinging + Their caps in morning's light; + We students thus are going, + And, when the gates are nigh, + Our trumpets shall be blowing, + In token of good-bye. + A long farewell we give thee, + O Prague, for we must leave thee, + _Et habeat bonam pacem, + Qui sedet post fornacem_! + + "When through the towns we're going + At night, the windows shine, + Behind their curtains showing + Full many a damsel fine. + We play at many a gate-way, + And when our throats are dry + We call mine host, and straightway + He treats us generously; + And o'er a goblet foaming + We rest awhile from roaming. + _Venit ex sua domo-- + Beatus ille homo_! + + "When roaming through the forest + Cold Boreas whistles shrill, + 'Tis then our need is sorest; + Wet through on plain and hill, + Our cloaks the winds are tearing, + Our shoes are worn and old, + Still playing, onward faring, + In spite of rain and cold. + _Beatus ille homo + Qui sedet in sua domo + Et sedet post fornacem, + Et habeat bonam pacem!"_ + +I, the captain, and the girl, although we did not understand Latin, +joined gaily in the last lines of each verse; but I was the gayest of +all, for I had caught a glimpse in the distance of my toll-house, and +soon afterward the castle shone among the trees in the light of the +setting sun. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +The boat touched the shore, and we all left it as quickly as possible, +and scattered about in the meadows, like birds suddenly set free from +the cage. The reverend gentleman took a hasty leave of us, and strode +off toward the castle. The students repaired to a retired dingle, +where they could shake out their cloaks, wash themselves in the brook, +and shave one another. The new lady's-maid, with her canary-bird and +her bundle, set out for an inn, the hostess of which I had recommended +to her as an excellent person, and where she wished to change her +gown before she presented herself at the castle. As for me--the lovely +evening shone right into my heart, and as soon as all the rest had +disappeared I lost not a moment, but ran directly to the castle +garden. + +My toll-house, which I had to pass, was standing on the old spot, the +tall trees in the castle garden were still murmuring above it, and +a yellow-hammer, which always used to sing at sunset in the +chestnut-tree before the window, was singing again, as if nothing in +the world had happened since I last heard him. The toll-house window +was open; I ran up to it with delight and looked in. There was no one +there, but the clock in the corner was ticking away, the writing-table +stood by the window, and the long pipe in the corner as of old. I +could not resist the temptation to climb through the window and seat +myself at the writing-table before the big account-book. Again the +sunlight shone golden-green through the chestnut boughs upon the +figures in the open book, again the bees buzzed in and out of the +window, and again the yellow-hammer's jocund song sounded from the +tree outside. All at once the door of the sleeping-room opened, and a +tall, old Receiver, in my dotted dressing-gown, entered! He paused on +the threshold upon beholding me thus unexpectedly, took his spectacles +quickly from his nose, and looked angrily at me. Not a little alarmed, +I started up, and, without saying a word, ran out of the door and +through the little garden, where I was very nearly tripped up by the +confounded potato-vines which the old Receiver had planted, evidently +by the Porter's advice, in place of my flowers. I heard him as he +came out of the door scolding after me, but I was mounted atop of the +garden wall, and gazing with a throbbing heart over into the castle +garden. + +Ah, how the birds were flitting and twittering and singing! The lawns +and paths were deserted, but the gilded tree-tops nodded a welcome to +me in the evening breeze, and on one side, up through masses of dark +green foliage, gleamed the Danube. + +Suddenly I heard sung from the depths of the garden-- + + "When the yearning heart is stilled + As in dreams, the forest sighing, + To the listening earth replying, + Tells the thoughts with which 'twas filled, + Days long vanished, soothing sorrow-- + From the Past a light they borrow, + And the heart is gently thrilled." + +The voice and the song were strangely familiar, as if I had heard +them somewhere in a dream. I pondered over and over again, and at last +exclaimed, joyfully, "It is Herr Guido!" swinging myself quickly down +into the garden. It was the selfsame song that he had sung on the +balcony of the Italian inn on that summer evening when I saw him for +the last time. + +He went on singing, while I bounded over beds and hedges toward the +singer. But as I emerged from between the last clumps of rose-bushes I +suddenly paused spellbound. For on the green opening beside the little +lake with the swans, clearly illuminated in the ruddy evening light, +on a stone bench sat the lovely Lady fair in a beautiful dress, with +a wreath of red and white roses on her dark-brown hair, and downcast +eyes, tracing lines on the green-sward with her riding-whip, just as +she had sat in the skiff when I was forced to sing her the song of +the Lady fair. Opposite her sat another young lady, with brown curls +clustering on a plump white neck, which was turned toward me; she was +singing to a guitar, while the swans glided in wide circles on the +placid water. All at once the Lady fair raised her eyes, and gave +a scream on perceiving me. The other lady turned round toward me so +quickly that her brown curls fell over her eyes, and when she saw me +she burst into a fit of immoderate laughter, sprang up from the bench, +and clapped her hands thrice. Whereupon a crowd of little girls in +white short skirts with red and green sashes came running out from +among the rose-bushes, so that I could not imagine where they had all +been hiding. They had long garlands of flowers in their hands, and +quickly formed a circle around me, dancing and singing-- + + "With ribbons gay of violets blue + The bridal wreath we bring thee; + The merry dance we lead thee to, + And wedding songs we sing thee. + Ribbons gay of violets blue, + Bridal wreath we bring thee." + +It was from _Der Freischütz_. I recognized some of the little singers; +they were girls from the village. I pinched their cheeks, and tried to +escape from the circle, but the roguish little things would not let +me out. I could not tell what to make of it all, and stood there +perfectly dazed. + +Suddenly a young man in hunting costume emerged from the shrubbery. +Hardly could I believe my eyes--it was merry Herr Lionardo! The little +girls now opened the circle and stood as if spell-bound on one foot, +with the other stretched out, holding the garlands of flowers high +above their heads with both hands. Herr Lionardo took the hand of the +lovely Lady fair, who had risen, and had only now and then glanced at +me, and, leading her up to me, said-- + +"Love--on this point philosophers are unanimous--is one of the most +courageous qualities of the human heart; it shatters with a glance of +fire the barriers of rank and station, the world is too confined for +it, eternity too brief. It is, so to speak, a poet's robe, in which +every dreamer enwraps himself once in this cold world, for a journey +to Arcadia. And the farther two parted lovers wander from each other, +the more beautiful and the richer are the folds of the robe, the more +surprising and wonderful is its extent, as it sweeps behind them, so +that one really cannot travel far without treading on a couple of such +trains. O beloved Herr Receiver, and bridegroom! although wrapped in +this robe you reached the shores of the Tiber, the little hands of +your present bride held you fast by the extreme end of the train, and, +however you might fiddle and fume, you had to return within the magic +influence of her beautiful eyes. And since this is so, you two dear, +foolish people, wrap yourselves both up in this blessed robe, forget +all the rest of the world, love like turtle-doves, and be happy!" + +Hardly had Herr Lionardo finished his speech when the other young lady +who had sung the song approached me, crowned me with a wreath of fresh +myrtle, and as she was arranging it, with her face close to my own, +archly sang-- + + "And therefore do I crown thee, + And therefore love thee so, + Because thou oft hast moved me + With the music of thy bow." + +As she retreated a step or two, "Do you remember the robbers who shook +you down from the tree at night?" said she, courtesying, and giving +me so arch a glance that my heart danced within me. Thereupon, without +waiting for an answer, she walked around me. "Actually just the +same, without any Italian affectations! But no! look, look at his fat +pockets!" she exclaimed suddenly to the lovely Lady fair. "Violin, +linen, razor, portmanteau, everything stuffed together!" She turned +me all round as she spoke, and could scarcely say anything more for +laughing. Meanwhile, the lovely Lady fair was quite silent, and could +hardly raise her eyes for shame and confusion. It seemed to me that +at heart she was provoked at all this jesting talk. At last her eyes +filled with tears, and she hid her face on the breast of the other +lady, who first looked at her in surprise and then clasped her +affectionately in her arms. + +I stood there as in a dream. The longer I looked at the strange lady +the more clearly I recognized her; she was in truth no other than--the +young painter, Herr Guido! + +I did not know what to say, and was just about to question her, when +Herr Lionardo approached her and spoke in an undertone. "Does he not +know yet?" I heard him ask. She shook her head. He reflected for a +moment, and then said aloud, "No, no, he must be told all immediately, +or there will be all kinds of fresh gossip and confusion." + +"Herr Receiver," he said, turning to me, "we have not much time at +present, but do me the favor to exhaust your stock of surprise +and wonder as quickly as possible, that you may not hereafter, by +questions, and wonderings, and head-shakings among the people about +here, revive old tales and give rise to new rumors and suspicions." So +saying, he drew me aside into the shrubbery, while Fräulein Guido made +passes in the air with the Lady fair's riding-whip, and shook all her +curls down over her eyes, which did not prevent my seeing that she was +blushing violently. + +"Well, then," said Herr Lionardo, "Fräulein Flora, who is trying +to look as if she neither knew nor had heard anything of the whole +affair, had exchanged hearts in a hurry with somebody. Whereupon +somebody else appears, and with sound of trumpet and drum offers her +his heart, and wishes for hers in return. But her heart is already +bestowed upon somebody, and somebody's heart is in her possession, and +that somebody will neither take back his heart nor give back hers. All +the world exclaims--but have you never read any romances?" I shook my +head. "Well, then, at all events you have taken part in one. In brief, +there was such a jumble with the hearts that somebody--that is, I--had +to take matters in hand. I sprang on my horse one warm summer night, +mounted Fräulein Flora as the painter Guido on another, and rode +toward the south, to conceal her in one of my lonely castles in Italy +till all the fuss about the hearts should be over. But on the way we +were tracked, and from the balcony of the Italian inn before which you +kept, sound asleep, such admirable watch, Flora suddenly caught sight +of our pursuer." "The crooked Signor, then--" "Was a spy. Therefore we +secretly took to the woods, and left you to travel post alone over +our prearranged route. That misled our pursuer, and my people in the +mountain castle besides; they were hourly expecting the disguised +Flora, and with more zeal than penetration they took you for the +Fräulein. Even here at the castle they thought Flora was among the +mountains; they inquired about her, they wrote to her--did you not +receive a note?" In an instant I produced the note from my pocket: +"This letter, then--?" "Is addressed to me," said Fräulein Flora, +who up to this point had seemed to be paying no attention to our +conversation. She snatched the note from me, read it, and put it +into her bosom. "And now," said Herr Lionardo, "we must hasten to the +castle, where they are all waiting for us. In conclusion, as a matter +of course, and as is fitting for every well-bred romance--discovery, +repentance, reconciliation; but we are all happy together once more, +and the wedding takes place the day after tomorrow!" + +Just as he had finished, a terrific racket of drums and trumpets, +horns and clarionets, was suddenly heard in the shrubbery; guns were +fired at intervals, loud cheers were given, the little girls began to +dance again, and heads appeared among the bushes as if they had grown +out of the earth. I ran and leaped about in all the hurry and scurry, +but as it began to grow dark I only gradually recognized all the +faces. The old gardener beat the drum, the students from Prague in +their cloaks played away, and among them the Porter fingered his +bassoon like mad. When I suddenly perceived him thus unexpectedly, I +ran to him and embraced him with enthusiasm, causing him to play quite +out of time. "Upon my word, if he should travel to the ends of +the earth he would never be anything but a goose!" he said to the +students, and then went on blowing away at his bassoon in a fury. + +Meanwhile, the lovely Lady fair had privately escaped from all the +noise and confusion, and had fled like a startled fawn far into the +depths of the garden. + +I caught sight of her in time and hurried after her. In their zeal +the musicians never noticed us; after a while they thought that we had +decamped to the castle, and then the entire band took up the line of +march in that direction. + +We, however, almost at the same moment reached a summer-house on the +borders of the garden, whence through the open window there was a +view of the wide, deep valley. The sun had long since set behind the +mountains, a rosy haze glimmered in the warm fading twilight, through +which the murmur of the Danube ascended clearer and clearer the +stiller grew the air. I looked long at the lovely Countess, who stood +before me heated with her flight and so close that I could almost hear +her heart beat. Now that I was alone with her I could find no words to +speak, so great was my awe of her. At last I took heart of grace, and +clasped in mine one of her little white hands--and in one moment her +head lay on my breast and my arms were around her. + +In an instant she extricated herself and turned to the window to cool +her glowing cheeks in the evening air. "Ah," I cried, "my heart is +full to bursting, but it all seems like a dream to me!" "And to me +too," said the lovely Lady fair. "When, last summer," she went on +after a while, "I came back with the Countess from Rome where we +fortunately found Fräulein Flora, and had brought her back with us but +could hear nothing of you either there or here, I never thought all +this would come to pass. It was only at noon today that Jocky, the +good, brisk fellow, came breathless into the court-yard and brought +the news that you had come by the mail-boat." Then she laughed quietly +to herself. "Do you remember," she said, "that time when I came out on +the balcony? It was just such an evening as this, and there was music +in the garden." "And he is really dead?" I asked hastily. "Whom do +you mean?" replied the Lady fair, looking at me in surprise. "Your +ladyship's husband," said I, "who was with you on the balcony." She +flushed crimson. "What strange fancies you have in your head!" she +exclaimed. "That was the Countess's son, who had just returned from +his travels, and, since it happened to be my birthday, he led me out +on the balcony with him that I might have a share of the cheers. Was +that why you ran away?" "Good heavens, yes!" I cried, striking my +forehead with my hand. She shook her head and laughed merrily. + +I was so happy there beside her while she went on chatting so +confidingly, that I could have sat listening until morning. I found in +my pocket a handful of almonds which I had brought with me from Italy. +She took some, and we sat and cracked them and gazed abroad over the +quiet country. "Do you see that little white villa," she said after a +while, "gleaming over there in the moonlight? The Count has given us +that, with its garden and vineyard; there is where we are to live. He +found out long ago that we cared for each other, and he is very fond +of you, for if he had not had you with them when he was running +off with Fräulein Flora they would both have been caught before the +Countess had become reconciled to him, and everything would have been +spoiled." "Good heavens! fairest, sweetest Countess," I cried out, +"my head is fairly spinning with all this unexpected and amazing +information; are you talking of Herr Lionardo?" "Yes, yes," she +replied; "that is what he called himself in Italy; he owns all that +property over there, and he is going to marry our Countess's daughter, +the lovely Flora. But why do you call me Countess?" I stared at her. +"I am no Countess," she went on. "Our Countess took me into the castle +and had me educated under her care when my uncle, the Porter, brought +me here a poor little orphan child." + +Ah, what a stone fell from my heart at these words! "God bless the +Porter," I said in an ecstasy, "for being our uncle! I always set +great store by him." "And he would be very fond of you," she replied, +"if you would only comport yourself with more dignity, as he expresses +it. You must dress with greater elegance." "Oh," I exclaimed, +enchanted, "an English dress-coat, straw hat, long trousers, and +spurs! And as soon as we're married we will take a trip to Italy--to +Rome--where lovely fountains are playing, and we'll take with us the +Prague students, and the Porter!" She smiled quietly, and gave me a +happy glance, while the music echoed in the distance, and rockets flew +up from the castle above the garden in the quiet night, and the Danube +kept murmuring on, and everything, everything was delightful! + + + + +ADALBERT VON CHAMISSO + + * * * * * + + THE CASTLE OF BONCOURT[37] (1827) + + + I dream of the days of my childhood, + And shake my silvery head. + How haunt ye my brain, O visions, + Methought ye forgotten and dead! + + + From the shades of the forest uprises + A castle so lofty and great; + Well know I the battlements, towers, + The arching stone-bridge, and the gate. + + The lions look down from the scutcheon + On me with familiar face; + I greet the old friends of my boyhood, + And speed through the courtyard space. + + There lies the Sphinx by the fountain; + The fig-tree's foliage gleams; + 'Twas there, behind yon windows, + I dreamt the first of my dreams. + + I tread the aisle of the chapel, + And search for my fathers' graves-- + Behold them! And there from the pillars + Hang down the old armor and glaives. + + Not yet can I read the inscription; + A veil hath enveloped my sight, + What though through the painted windows + Glows brightly the sunbeam's light. + Thus gleams, O hall of my fathers, + Thy image so bright in my mind, + From the earth now vanished, the ploughshare + Leaves of thee no vestige behind. + + Be fruitful, lov'd soil, I will bless thee, + While anguish o'er-cloudeth my brow; + Threefold will I bless him, whoever + May guide o'er thy bosom the plough. + + But I will up, up, and be doing; + My lyre I'll take in my hand; + O'er the wide, wide earth will I wander, + And sing from land to land. + +[Illustration: ADALBERT VON CHAMISSO] + + * * * * * + + THE LION'S BRIDE[38] + + + With myrtle bedecked and in bridal array, + Comes the keeper's fair daughter, as blooming as May. + She enters the cage of the lion; he lies + Calm and still at her feet and looks up in her eyes. + + The terrible beast, of whom men are afraid, + Lies peaceful and tame at the feet of the maid, + While she, in her tender adorable grace, + Is stroking his head as the tears stain her face. + + "In the days that are gone, we were playmates so true; + Like brother and sister we played, I and you. + Our love was still constant in joy or in pain-- + But alas for the days that will ne'er come again! + + "You learned to toss proudly your glorious head, + And roar, as you tossed it, a warning of dread; + I grew from a babe to a woman--you see, + No longer a light-hearted child I can be. + + "Oh, would that those days had had never an end, + My splendid strong playmate, my noble old friend! + But soon I must go, so my parents decree, + Away with a stranger--no more am I free. + + "A man has beheld me, and fancied me fair; + He has asked for my hand--and the wreath's in my hair! + Dear faithful old comrade, my girlhood is dead; + And my sight is bedimmed with the tears I have shed. + + "Do you know what I mean? Ah, your look is a sign! + I have made up my mind, and you need not repine. + But yonder he comes who must lead me away-- + So I'll give the last kiss to my playmate today!" + + As the last fond farewell with reluctance she took, + The huge frame so trembled the bars even shook; + But when, drawing near a strange man he espied, + A sudden alarm seized the heart of the bride. + + The lion stands guard by the door of the cage-- + He is lashing his tail, he is roaring with rage. + With threats, with entreaties she bids him to cease, + But in vain--in his might he denies her release. + + Without are confusion and cries of despair + "Bring a gun!" shouts the bridegroom; "our one hope is there! + I will snatch her away from his horrible claws * * *" + But the lion defies him with foam-dripping jaws. + + The girl makes a last frenzied dash for the door-- + But his past love the beast seems to measure no more; + The sweet slender body goes down 'neath his might, + All bleeding and lifeless, a pitiful sight. + + Then, as if he knew well what a crime he had wrought, + He throws himself down by her, caring for naught; + He lies all unheeding what dangers remain, + Till the bullet avenging speeds swift through his brain. + + * * * * * + + WOMAN'S LOVE AND LIFE[39] (1830) + + + 1 + + Since mine eyes beheld him, + Blind I seem to be; + Wheresoe'er they wander, + Him alone they see. + Round me glows his image, + In a waking dream; + From the darkness rising + Brighter doth it beam. + + All is drear and gloomy + That around me lies; + Now my sister's pastimes + I no longer prize; + In my chamber rather + Would I weep alone; + Since my eyes beheld him + Blind methinks I'm grown. + + + 2 + + He, the best of all, the noblest, + O how gentle! O how kind + Lips of sweetness, eyes of brightness, + Steadfast courage, lucid mind. + + As on high, in Heaven's azure, + Bright and splendid, beams yon star, + Thus he in my heaven beameth, + Bright and splendid, high and far. + + Wander, wander where thou listest, + I will gaze but on thy beam; + With humility behold it, + In a sad, yet blissful dream. + + Hear me not thy bliss imploring + With prayer's silent eloquence? + Know me now, a lowly maiden, + Star of proud magnificence! + + May thy choice be rendered happy + By the worthiest alone! + And I'll call a thousand blessings + Down on her exalted throne. + + Then I'll weep with tears of gladness; + Happy, happy then my lot! + If my heart should rive asunder, + Break, O heart--it matters not! + + + 3 + + Is it true? O, I cannot believe it; + A dream doth my senses enthrall; + O can he have made me so happy, + And exalted me thus above all? + + Meseems as if he had spoken, + "I am thine, ever faithful and true!" + Meseems--O still am I dreaming-- + It cannot, it cannot be true! + + O fain would I, rocked on his bosom, + In the sleep of eternity lie; + That death were indeed the most blissful, + In the rapture of weeping to die. + + + 4 + + Help me, ye sisters, + Kindly to deck me, + Me, O the happy one, aid me this morn! + Let the light finger + Twine the sweet myrtle's + Blossoming garland, my brow to adorn! + + As on the bosom + Of my loved one, + Wrapt in the bliss of contentment, I lay, + He, with soft longing + In his heart thrilling, + Ever impatiently sighed for today. + + Aid me, ye sisters, + Aid me to banish + Foolish anxieties, timid and coy, + That I with sparkling + Eye may receive him, + Him the bright fountain of rapture and joy. + + Do I behold thee, + Thee, my beloved one, + Dost thou, O sun, shed thy beam upon me? + Let me devoutly, + Let me in meekness + Bend to my lord and my master the knee! + + Strew, ye fair sisters, + Flowers before him, + Cast budding roses around at his feet! + Joyfully quitting + Now your bright circle, + You, lovely sisters, with sadness I greet. + + + 5 + + Dearest friend, thou lookest + On me with surprise, + Dost thou wonder wherefore + Tears suffuse mine eyes? + Let the dewy pearl-drops + Like rare gems appear, + Trembling, bright with gladness, + In their crystal sphere. + + With what anxious raptures + Doth my bosom swell! + O had I but language + What I feel to tell! + Come and hide thy face, love, + Here upon my breast, + In thine ear I'll whisper + Why I am so blest. + + Now the tears thou knowest + Which my joy confessed, + Thou shalt not behold them, + Thou, my dearest, best; + Linger on my bosom, + Feel its throbbing tide; + Let me press thee firmly, + Firmly, to my side! + + Here may rest the cradle, + Close my couch beside, + Where it may in silence + My sweet vision hide; + Soon will come the morning, + When my dream will wake, + And thy smiling image + Will to life awake. + + + 6 + + Upon my heart, and upon my breast, + Thou joy of all joys, my sweetest, best! + Bliss, thou art love; O love, thou art bliss-- + I've said it, and seal it here with a kiss. + I thought no happiness mine could exceed, + But now I am happy, O happy indeed! + She only, who to her bosom hath pressed + The babe who drinketh life at her breast; + 'Tis only a mother the joys can know + Of love, and real happiness here below. + How I pity man, whose bosom reveals + No joys like that which a mother feels! + Thou look'st on me, with a smile on thy brow, + Thou dear, dear little angel, thou! + Upon my heart, and upon my breast, + Thou joy of all joys, my sweetest, best! + + + 7 + + Ah, thy first wound hast thou inflicted now! + But oh! how deep! + Hard-hearted, cruel man, now sleepest thou + Death's long, long sleep. + + I gaze upon the void in silent grief, + The world is drear; + I've lived and loved, but now the verdant leaf + Of life is sere. + + I will retire within my soul's recess, + The veil shall fall; + I'll live with thee and my past happiness, + O thou, my all! + +[Illustration: _Permission Franz Hanfstaengl, New York_ MORITZ VON +SCHWIND THE WEDDING JOURNEY] + + * * * * * + + THE WOMEN OF WEINSBERG[40] (1831) + + + It was the good King Konrad with all his army lay + Before the town of Weinsberg full many a weary day; + The Guelph at last was vanquished, but still the town held out; + The bold and fearless burghers they fought with courage stout. + + But then came hunger, hunger! That was a grievous guest; + They went to ask for favor, but anger met their quest. + "Through you the dust hath bitten full many a worthy knight, + And if your gates you open, the sword shall you requite!" + + Then came the women, praying: "Let be as thou hast said, + Yet give us women quarter, for we no blood have shed!" + At sight of these poor wretches the hero's anger failed, + And soft compassion entered and in his heart prevailed. + + "The women shall be pardoned, and each with her shall bear + As much as she can carry of her most precious ware; + The women with their burdens unhindered forth shall go, + Such is our royal judgment--we swear it shall be so!" + + At early dawn next morning, ere yet the east was bright, + The soldiers saw advancing a strange and wondrous sight; + The gate swung slowly open, and from the vanquished town + Forth swayed a long procession of women weighted down; + + For perched upon her shoulders each did her husband bear-- + That was the thing most precious of all her household ware. + "We'll stop the treacherous women!" cried all with one intent; + The chancellor he shouted: "This was not what we meant!" + + But when they told King Konrad, the good King laughed aloud; + "If this was not our meaning, they've made it so," he vowed, + "A promise is a promise, our loyal word was pledge; + It stands, and no Lord Chancellor may quibble or map hedge." + + Thus was the royal scutcheon kept free from stain or blot! + The story has descended from days now half forgot; + 'Twas eleven hundred and forty this happened, as I've heard, + The flower of German princes thought shame to break his word. + + * * * * * + + THE CRUCIFIX[41] (1830) + + + In hopeless contemplation of his work + The master stood, a frown upon his brow, + Where shame and self-contempt appeared to lurk. + + With all his art and knowledge he had now + Portrayed the suffering Savior's image there-- + Yet could the marble not with life endow. + + He could not make it live, for all his care-- + What is not flesh knows not to suffer pain; + Cold stone can none but stone's cold likeness bear. + + Beauty and due proportion though it gain, + The chisel's marks will never disappear + And nature wake, howe'er his prayer may strain: + + "Ah, turn not from me, Nature! Thou most dear, + I long to raise thee to undreamed of height-- + But thou art dumb * * * a sorry bungler's here!" + + There entered then a loyal neophyte, + Who looked with reverence on the master's art + And stood beside him, flushed with new delight. + + To the same muse was given his young heart, + The selfsame quest of beauty filled his days-- + Yet must his soul with endless failure smart. + + To him the master: "Scorn is in thy praise! + If so this dull, dead stone thy mind can fill, + To death, not life, thou must have turned thy face!" + + Then boldly spoke the youth: "Admire I will! + What though thy Christ for death's repose prepare + So strangely silent and so strangely still, + + Yet at a great thing greatly wrought I stare, + And long to match the marvel that I see; + I see what is, and thou what should be there." + + The master looked upon him silently, + His youthful strength, his limbs so straight and fine, + And deemed there were no model such as he. + + "A prey thou find'st me to despair malign-- + How get from lifeless marble life and pain? + Here nature fails, whose secrets else are mine. + + To seek a hireling's aid were all in vain; + And sought I thine, though partner of my aims, + Naught but a cold refusal should I gain." + + "Nay," said the youth, "in art's and God's high names, + I would perform unwearied, unafraid, + Whate'er of me thy need transcendent claims." + + He spoke, and straight his beauty disarrayed, + Showing the fair flower of his youthful grace + Within the guarded workshop's sacred shade. + + Entranced the master gazed, and could not chase + A thought that rose unbidden to his mind-- + If pain upon that form its lines could trace! + + "The help thou off'rest if I am to find, + Thee too the cross must raise above the ground * * *" + Willing, the youth his gracious limbs resigned. + + With tight cords first his prey the sculptor bound, + Then brought the hammer and the piercing nails-- + A martyr's death must close the destined round! + + The first sharp nail went through, and piteous wails + Burst from the youth, but no compassion woke; + An eager eye the look of suffering hails. + + With restless haste redoubled, stroke on stroke + Achieved the bleeding model that he sought. + Calmly to work he went; no word he spoke. + + A hideous joy upon his features wrought-- + For nature now each shade of anguished woe + Upon the expiring lovely form had taught. + + Unceasing worked his hands, above, below; + His heart was to all human feeling dead-- + But in the marble * * * life began to show! + + Whether in prayer the sufferer bowed his head, + Or in despairing torment gnashed his teeth, + Still on the sculptor's flying fingers sped. + + The pale, exhausted victim, nigh to death, + As night the third long day of agony + Is ending, murmurs with his last weak breath, + + "My God, my God, hast Thou forsaken me?" + The eyes, half raised, sink down, the writhings cease, + The awful crime has reached its term--and see + + There, in its glory, stands a masterpiece! + + + II + + "My God, my God, hast Thou forsaken me?" + At midnight in the minster rang the wail; + Who could have raised it? 'Twas a mystery. + + At the high altar, where its radiance pale + A tiny lamp threw out, a form was found + To move, whence came the faltering accents frail. + + And then it dashed itself upon the ground, + Its forehead 'gainst the stones, and wildly wept; + The vaulted roof reëchoed with the sound. + + Long was the vigil that dim figure kept + That seemed by tears so strangely comforted; + None dared its tottering footsteps intercept. + + At last the night's mysterious hours were sped + And day returned; but all was silent now, + And with the dawn the ghostly form had fled. + + The faithful came before their God to bow, + The canons to the altar reverently. + There had been placed above it, none knew how, + + A crucifix whose like none e'er did see; + Thus, only thus had God His strength put by, + Thus had He looked upon the blood-stained tree. + + To Him whose suffering brought salvation nigh + Came sinners for release, a contrite band-- + And "Christ have mercy!" was the general cry. + + It seems not like the work of mortal hand hand-- + Who can have set the godlike image there? + Who in the dead of night such offering planned? + + It is the master's, who with anxious care + Has waited, from the public gaze withdrawn, + To show the utmost that his art can dare. + + What shall we bring him for his ease foregone + And brain o'ertasked? Gold is but sorry meed-- + His head a crown of laurel shall put on!-- + + So soon a great procession was decreed + Of priests and laymen; marching in the van + Went one who bore the recompense agreed. + + They came where dwelt the venerated man-- + And found an open door, an empty house; + They called his name, and naught but echoes ran. + + The drums and cymbals all the neighbors rouse + And trumpets shrill their joy; but none appears + To see the grateful people pay their vows. + + He is not there, the grave assemblage hears; + A neighbor, waking early, like a ghost + Saw him steal forth, a prey to nameless fears. + + From room to room they went--their pains were lost; + In all the desolate chambers there was none + That answered them, or came to play the host. + + They called aloud, let in the cheerful sun + Through opened windows--in their anxious round + Into the workshop entrance last they won * * *, + + Ah, speak not of the horror there they found! + + + III + + They have brought a captive home, and raging told + That he is stained with foulest blasphemy, + Mocks their false prophet with his insults bold. + + It is the pilgrim we were used to see + For penance roaming 'neath our palm-trees' shade, + Till at the Holy Grave he might be free. + + Will he, when comes the hangman, unafraid + A Christian's courage show in face of wrong? + God strengthen him on whom he cries for aid! + + Ah yes--though life is sweet, his will is strong, + His mind made up; he yields him to their hands, + Content to shed his blood in torment long. + + Nay, look not yonder, where the savage bands + And merciless prepare a hideous deed-- + Perchance a like dread fate before us stands! + + He comes, a victim led * * * yet will he bleed? + I see a wondrous radiance in his face, + As though unlooked-for safety were decreed! + + Can he have bought it * * *? No! they stride apace + Toward the blood-stained spot--it is to be. + The martyr's palm his confident brow shall grace. + + "Weep not! No tears of pity flowed from me + When to the cross the tender youth I bound-- + My heart of stone ignored his misery." + + So, hounded by remorse, the sinner found + The path of expiation, firmly trod, + Cain's brand upon him, all the dreadful round. + + "Thou who didst die for me, all-pitying God, + Wilt Thou vouchsafe my tortures now an end? + I have not asked deliverance from Thy rod, + + Nor hoped Thou shouldst to me Thy mercy lend. + 'Tis life, not death, that is so hard to bear * * * + Into Thy hands my spirit I commend!" + + So when the ruffian captors seized him there + And bound him to the cross, he calmly smiled; + 'Twas they that watched whose brows were lined with care. + + And as his limbs were torn with anguish wild, + And he was lifted 'mid the throng on high, + White peace came down upon his soul defiled. + + In passionate prayer the faithful watched him die + That stood beneath the cross; his lips were still-- + His suffering was one long atoning cry. + + The day passed, and the night; with dauntless will + He yet found strength his torment dire to face. + The third day's sun sank down behind the hill; + + And as the glory of its parting rays + He strove with glazing eye once more to see, + With his last breath he cried in joyful praise + + "My God, my God, Thou hast not forsaken me!" + + * * * * * + + THE OLD SINGER[42] (1833) + + + Once a strange old man went singing, + Words of scornful admonition + To the streets and markets bringing: + "In the wilds a voice am I! + Slowly, slowly seek your mission; + Naught in haste, or rash endeavor-- + From the work yet ceasing never + Slow and sure the hour draws nigh! + + Time's great branches cease from shaking; + Blind are ye, devoid of reason, + If its fruit ye would be taking + When its blossoms have but burst. + Let it ripen to its season, + Wind within its branches bluster-- + Of itself the fruits 'twill muster + For whose juices ripe ye thirst." + + Wild, excited crowds are scorning + In their guise the gray old singer, + Thus reward him for his warning, + Ape his songs in mockery: + "Shall we let the fellow linger + To disgrace us? Stone him, beat him, + With the scorn he merits treat him-- + Let the world his folly see!" + + So the strange old man went singing, + To the halls of royal splendor + Scornful admonition bringing: + "In the wilds a voice am I! + Doubt not, dream not of surrender: + Forward, forward, never ceasing, + Strength in spite of all increasing-- + Slow and sure the hour draws nigh! + + With the stream, before the breezes + Wouldst thou show thy strength, then teach it + Both to conquer as it pleases-- + Both are weaker than the grave. + Choose thy port, and steer to reach it! + Threatening rocks? The rudder's master; + Turning back is sure disaster, + And its end beneath the wave." + + One was seen to blench in terror, + Flushing first, then sudden paling: + "Who gave entrance--whose the error + Let this madman pass along? + All things show his wits are failing-- + Shall he daze our people's senses? + Prison him with sure defenses, + Silence hold his silly song!" + + But the strange old man went singing + Where within the tower they bound him-- + Calm and clear his answer ringing: + "In the wilds a voice am I! + Though the people's hate surround him, + Must the prophet still endeavor, + From his mission ceasing never-- + Slow and sure the hour draws nigh!" + + * * * * * + + THE OLD WASHERWOMAN[43] (1833) + + + Among yon lines her hands have laden, + A laundress with white hair appears, + Alert as many a youthful maiden, + Spite of her five-and-seventy years. + Bravely she won those white hairs, still + Eating the bread hard toil obtain'd her, + And laboring truly to fulfil + The duties to which God ordain'd her. + + Once she was young and full of gladness; + She loved and hoped, was woo'd and won; + Then came the matron's cares, the sadness + No loving heart on earth may shun. + Three babes she bore her mate; she pray'd + Beside his sick-bed; he was taken; + She saw him in the churchyard laid, + Yet kept her faith and hope unshaken. + + The task her little ones of feeding + She met unfaltering from that hour; + She taught them thrift and honest breeding, + Her virtues were their worldly dower. + To seek employment, one by one, + Forth with her blessing they departed, + And she was in the world alone, + Alone and old, but still high-hearted. + + With frugal forethought, self-denying, + She gather'd coin and flax she bought, + And many a night her spindle plying, + Good store of fine-spun thread she wrought. + The thread was fashion'd in the loom; + She brought it home, and calmly seated + To work, with not a thought of gloom, + Her decent grave-clothes she completed. + + She looks on them with fond elation, + They are her wealth, her treasure rare, + Her age's pride and consolation, + Hoarded with all a miser's care. + She dons the sark each Sabbath day, + To hear the Word that faileth never; + Well-pleased she lays it then away, + Till she shall sleep in it forever. + + Would that my spirit witness bore me + That, like this woman, I had done + The work my Master put before me, + Duly from morn till set of sun. + Would that life's cup had been by me + Quaff'd in such wise and happy measure, + And that I too might finally + Look on my shroud with such meek pleasure. + + + + +THE WONDERFUL HISTORY OF PETER SCHLEMIHL (1814) + +By ADALBERT VON CHAMISSO TRANSLATED BY FREDERIC H. HEDGE + +CHAPTER I + + +After a fortunate, but for me very troublesome voyage, we finally +reached the port. The instant that I touched land in the boat, I +loaded myself with my few effects, and passing through the swarming +people, I entered the first, and most modest house, before which I saw +a sign hang. I requested a room; the boots measured me with a look, +and conducted me into the garret. I caused fresh water to be brought, +and made him exactly describe to me where I should find Mr. Thomas +John. He replied to my inquiry--"Before the north gate; the first +country-house on the right hand; a large new house of red and white +marble, with many columns." + +"Good!" It was still early in the day. I opened at once my bundle; +took thence my new black cloth coat; clad myself cleanly in my best +apparel; put my letter of introduction into my pocket, and +immediately set out on the way to the man who was to promote my modest +expectations. + +When I had ascended the long North Street, and reached the gate, I +soon saw the pillars glimmer through the foliage. "Here it is, then," +thought I. I wiped the dust from my shoes with my pocket-handkerchief, +put my neckcloth in order, and in God's name rung the bell. The door +flew open. In the hall I had an examination to undergo; the porter, +however, permitted me to be announced, and I had the honor to be +called into the park, where Mr. John was walking with a select +party. I recognized the man at once by the lustre of his corpulent +self-complacency. He received me very well--as a rich man receives a +poor devil--even turned toward me, without turning from the rest of +the company, and took the offered letter from my hand. "So, so, from +my brother! I have heard nothing from him for a long time. But he is +well? There," continued he, addressing the company, without waiting +for an answer, and pointing with the letter to a hill, "there I am +going to erect the new building." He broke the seal without breaking +off the conversation, which turned upon riches. + +"He that is not master of a million, at least," he observed, +"is--pardon me the word--a wretch!" + +"O! how true!" I exclaimed with a rush of overflowing feeling. + +That pleased him. He smiled at me, and said--"Stay here, my good +friend; in a while I shall perhaps have time to tell you what I think +about this." He pointed to the letter, which he then thrust into his +pocket, and turned again to the company. He offered his arm to a young +lady; the other gentlemen addressed themselves to other fair +ones; each found what suited him; and all proceeded toward the +rose-blossomed mound. + +I slid into the rear, without troubling any one, for no one troubled +himself any further about me. The company was excessively lively; +there were dalliance and playfulness; trifles were sometimes discussed +with an important tone, but oftener important matters with levity; +and especially pleasantly flew the wit over absent friends and their +circumstances. I was too strange to understand much of all this; too +anxious and introverted to take an interest in such riddles. + +We had reached the rosary. The lovely Fanny, the belle of the day, +as it appeared, would, out of obstinacy, herself break off a blooming +bough. She wounded herself on a thorn, and as if from the dark roses, +flowed the purple on her tender hand. This circumstance put the whole +party into a flutter. English plaster was sought for. A still, +thin, lanky, longish, oldish man, who stood near, and whom I had +not hitherto remarked, put his hand instantly into the close-lying +breast-pocket of his old French gray taffetty coat; produced thence +a little pocket-book; opened it; and presented to the lady, with a +profound obeisance, the required article. She took it without noticing +the giver, and without thanks; the wound was bound up; and we went +forward over the hill, from whose back the company could enjoy the +wide prospect over the green labyrinth of the park to the boundless +ocean. + +The view was in reality vast and splendid. A light point appeared +on the horizon between the dark flood and the blue of the heaven. +"A telescope here!" cried John; and already, before the servants who +appeared at the call were in motion, the gray man, modestly bowing, +had thrust his hand into his coat-pocket, and drawn thence a beautiful +Dollond and handed it to John. Bringing it immediately to his eye, +the latter informed the company that it was the ship which went out +yesterday, and was detained in view of port by contrary winds. The +telescope passed from hand to hand, but not again into that of its +owner. I, however, gazed in wonder at the man, and could not conceive +how the great machine had come out of the narrow pocket; but this +seemed to have struck no one else, and nobody troubled himself any +farther about the gray man than about myself. + +Refreshments were handed round; the choicest fruits of every zone, in +the costliest vessels. Mr. John did the honors with an easy grace, and +a second time addressed a word to me. "Help yourself; you have not had +the like at sea." I bowed, but he saw it not; he was already speaking +with some one else. + +The company would fain have reclined upon the sward on the slope of +the hill, opposite to the outstretched landscape, had they not feared +the dampness of the earth. "It were divine," observed one of the +party, "had we but a Turkey carpet to spread here." The wish was +scarcely expressed when the man in the gray coat had his hand in +his pocket, and was busied in drawing thence, with a modest and even +humble deportment, a rich Turkey carpet interwoven with gold. The +servants received it as a matter of course, and opened it on the +required spot. The company, without ceremony, took their places upon +it; for myself, I looked again in amazement on the man, at the pocket, +at the carpet, which measured above twenty paces long and ten +in breadth, and rubbed my eyes, not knowing what to think of it, +especially as nobody saw anything extraordinary in it. + +I would fain have had some explanation regarding the man, and have +asked who he was, but I knew not to whom to address myself, for I +was almost more afraid of the gentlemen's servants than of the served +gentlemen. At length I took courage, and stepped up to a young man who +appeared to me to be of less consideration than the rest, and who had +often stood alone. I begged him softly to tell me who the agreeable +man in the gray coat there was. + +"He there, who looks like an end of thread that has escaped out of a +tailor's needle?" + +"Yes, he who stands alone." + +"I don't know him," he replied, and, as it seemed, in order to avoid +a longer conversation with me he turned away and spoke of indifferent +matters to another. + +The sun began now to shine more powerfully, and to inconvenience the +ladies. The lovely Fanny addressed carelessly to the gray man, whom, +as far as I am aware, no one had yet spoken to, the trifling question, +"Whether he had not, perchance, also a tent by him?" He answered her +by an obeisance most profound, as if an unmerited honor were done +him, and had already his hand in his pocket, out of which I saw come +canvas, poles, cordage, iron-work--in short, everything which belongs +to the most splendid pleasure-tent. The young gentlemen helped to +expand it, and it covered the whole extent of the carpet, and nobody +found anything remarkable in it. + +I had already become uneasy, nay, horrified at heart, but how +completely so, as, at the very next wish expressed, I saw him yet pull +out of his pocket three roadsters--I tell thee, three beautiful great +black horses, with saddle and caparison. Bethink thee! for God's +sake!--three saddled horses, still out of the same pocket from which +already a pocket-book, a telescope, an embroidered carpet, twenty +paces long and ten broad, a pleasure-tent of equal dimensions, and all +the requisite poles and irons, had come forth! If I did not protest to +thee that I saw it myself with my own eyes, thou couldst not possibly +believe it. + +Embarrassed and obsequious as the man himself appeared to be, little +as was the attention which had been bestowed upon him, yet to me his +grisly aspect, from which I could not turn my eyes, became so fearful +that I could bear it no longer. + +I resolved to steal away from the company, which from the +insignificant part I played in it seemed to me an easy affair. I +proposed to myself to return to the city, to try my luck again on the +morrow with Mr. John, and if I could muster the necessary courage, +to question him about the singular gray man. Had I only had the good +fortune to escape so well! + +I had already actually succeeded in stealing through the rosary, and, +in descending the hill, found myself on a piece of lawn, when, fearing +to be encountered in crossing the grass out of the path, I cast an +inquiring glance round me. What was my terror to behold the man in the +gray coat behind me, and making toward me! In the next moment he took +off his hat before me, and bowed so low as no one had ever yet done to +me. There was no doubt but that he wished to address me, and, without +being rude, I could not prevent it. I also took off my hat; bowed +also; and stood there in the sun with bare head as if rooted to the +ground. I stared at him full of terror, and was like a bird which a +serpent has fascinated. He himself appeared very much embarrassed. +He raised not his eyes; again bowed repeatedly; drew nearer, and +addressed me with a soft, tremulous voice, almost in a tone of +supplication. + +"May I hope, sir, that you will pardon my boldness in venturing in so +unusual a manner to approach you, but I would ask a favor. Permit me +most condescendingly----" + +"But in God's name!" exclaimed I in my trepidation, "what can I do for +a man who--" we both started, and, as I believe, reddened. + +After a moment's silence, he again resumed: "During the short time +that I had the happiness to find myself near you, I have, sir, +many times--allow me to say it to you--really contemplated with +inexpressible admiration, the beautiful, beautiful, shadow which, as +it were, with a certain noble disdain, and without yourself remarking +it, you cast from you in the sunshine. The noble shadow at your feet +there. Pardon me the bold supposition, but possibly you might not be +indisposed to make this shadow over to me." + +He was silent, and a mill-wheel seemed to whirl round in my head. What +was I to make of this singular proposition to sell my own shadow? +He must be mad, thought I, and with an altered tone which was more +assimilated to that of his own humility, I answered thus: + +"Ha! ha! good friend, have not you then enough of your own shadow? I +take this for a business of a very singular sort--" + +He hastily interrupted me--"I have many things in my pocket which, +sir, might not appear worthless to you, and for this inestimable +shadow I hold the very highest price too small." + +It struck cold through me again as I was reminded of the pocket. +I knew not how I could have called him good friend. I resumed the +conversation, and sought, if possible, to set all right again by +excessive politeness. + +"But, sir, pardon your most humble servant; I do not understand your +meaning. How indeed could my shadow"--he interrupted me-- + +"I beg your permission only here on the spot to be allowed to take up +this noble shadow and put it in my pocket; how I shall do that, be my +care. On the other hand, as a testimony of my grateful acknowledgment +to you, I give you the choice of all the treasures which I carry in my +pocket--the genuine Spring-root, the Mandrake-root, the Change-penny, +the Rob-dollar, the Napkin of Roland's Page, a Mandrake-man, at your +own price. But these probably don't interest you--rather Fortunatus' +Wishing-cap newly and stoutly repaired, and a lucky-bag such as he +had!" + +"The Luck-purse of Fortunatus!" I exclaimed, interrupting him; and +great as my anxiety was, with that one word he had taken my whole mind +captive. A dizziness seized me, and double ducats seemed to glitter +before my eyes. + +"Honored Sir, will you do me the favor to view, and to make trial +of this purse?" He thrust his hand into his pocket, and drew out a +tolerably large, well-sewed purse of stout Corduan leather, with two +strong strings, and handed it to me. I plunged my hand into it, and +drew out ten gold pieces, and again ten, and again ten, and again ten. +I extended him eagerly my hand "Agreed! the business is done; for the +purse you have my shadow!" + +He closed with me; kneeled instantly down before me, and I beheld him, +with an admirable dexterity, gently loosen my shadow from top to toe +from the grass, lift it up, roll it together, fold it, and, finally, +pocket it. He arose, made me another obeisance, and retreated toward +the rosary. I fancied that I heard him there softly laughing to +himself; but I held the purse fast by the strings; all round me lay +the clear sunshine, and within me was yet no power of reflection. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +At length I came to myself, and hastened to quit the place where I had +nothing more to expect. In the first place I filled my pockets with +gold; then I secured the strings of the purse fast round my neck, and +concealed the purse itself in my bosom. I passed unobserved out of the +park, reached the highway and took the road to the city. As, sunk +in thought, I approached the gate, I heard a cry behind me--"Young +gentleman! eh! young gentleman! hear you!" I looked round, an old +woman called after me. "Do take care, sir, you have lost your shadow!" +"Thank you, good mother!" I threw her a gold piece for her well-meant +information, and stopped under the trees. + +At the city gate I was compelled to hear again from the +sentinel--"Where has the gentleman left his shadow?" And immediately +again from some women--"Jesus Maria! the poor fellow has no shadow!" +That began to irritate me, and I became especially careful not to walk +in the sun. This could not, however, be accomplished everywhere--for +instance, over the broad street which I next must cross, actually, as +mischief would have it, at the very moment that the boys came out +of school. A cursed hunch-backed rogue, I see him yet, spied out +instantly that I had no shadow. He proclaimed the fact with a loud +outcry to the whole assembled literary street youth of the suburb, +who began forthwith to criticise me, and to pelt me with mud. "Decent +people are accustomed to take their shadows with them, when they go +into the sunshine." To defend myself from them I threw whole handfuls +of gold amongst them and sprang into a hackney-coach, which some +compassionate soul procured for me. + +As soon as I found myself alone in the rolling carriage I began to +weep bitterly. The presentiment must already have arisen in me that, +far as gold on earth transcends in estimation merit and virtue, +so much higher than gold itself is the shadow valued; and as I had +earlier sacrificed wealth to conscience, I had now thrown away the +shadow for mere gold. What in the world could and would become of me! + +I was still greatly discomposed as the carriage stopped before my +old inn. I was horrified at the bare idea of entering that wretched +cock-loft. I ordered my things to be brought down; received my +miserable bundle with contempt, threw down some gold pieces, and +ordered the coachman to drive to the most fashionable hotel. The house +faced the north, and I had not the sun to fear. I dismissed the driver +with gold; caused the best front rooms to be assigned me, and shut +myself up in them as quickly as I could! + +What thinkest thou I now began? Oh, my dear Chamisso, to confess it +even to thee makes me blush. I drew the unlucky purse from my bosom, +and with a kind of rage which, like a rushing conflagration, grew in +me with self-increasing growth, I extracted gold, and gold, and gold, +and ever more gold, and strewed it on the floor, and strode amongst +it, and made it ring again, and, feeding my poor heart on the splendor +and the sound, flung continually more metal to metal, till in my +weariness I sank down on the rich heap, and, rioting thereon, rolled +and reveled upon it. So passed the day, the evening. I opened not my +door; the night found me lying on my gold, and then sleep overcame me. + +I dreamed of thee. I seemed to stand behind the glass-door of thy +little room, and to see thee sitting then at thy work-table, between +a skeleton and a bundle of dried plants. Before thee lay open Haller, +Humboldt, and Linnaeus; on thy sofa a volume of Goethe and "The Magic +Ring." I regarded thee long, and everything in thy room, and then thee +again. Thou didst not move, thou drewest no breath--thou wert dead! + +I awoke. It appeared still to be very early. My watch stood. I was +sore all over; thirsty and hungry too; I had taken nothing since the +morning before. I pushed from me with loathing and indignation the +gold on which I had before sated my foolish heart. In my vexation +I knew not what I should do with it. It must not lie there. I tried +whether the purse would swallow it again--but no! None of my windows +opened upon the sea. I found myself compelled laboriously to drag it +to a great cupboard which stood in a cabinet, and there to pile it. I +left only some handfuls of it lying. When I had finished the work, I +threw myself exhausted into an easy chair, and waited for the stirring +of the people in the house. As soon as possible I ordered food to be +brought, and the landlord to come to me. + +I fixed in consultation with this man the future arrangements of +my house. He recommended for the services about my person a certain +Bendel, whose honest and intelligent physiognomy immediately +captivated me. He it was whose attachment has since accompanied me +consolingly through the wretchedness of life, and has helped me +to support my gloomy lot. I spent the whole day in my room among +masterless servants, shoemakers, tailors, and tradespeople. I fitted +myself out, and purchased besides a great many jewels and valuables +for the sake of getting rid of some of the vast heap of hoarded-up +gold; but it seemed to me as if it were impossible to diminish it. + +In the meantime I brooded over my situation in the most agonizing +doubts. I dared not venture a step out of my doors, and at evening I +caused forty waxlights to be lit in my room before I issued from +the shade. I thought with horror on the terrible scene with the +schoolboys, yet I resolved, much courage as it demanded, once more to +make a trial of public opinion. The nights were then moonlight. Late +in the evening I threw on a wide cloak, pressed my hat over my eyes, +and stole, trembling like a criminal, out of the house. I stepped +first out of the shade in whose protection I had arrived so far, in +a remote square, into the full moonlight, determined to learn my fate +out of the mouths of the passers-by. + +Spare me, dear friend, the painful repetition of all that I had to +endure. The women often testified the deepest compassion with which +I inspired them, declarations which no less transpierced me than the +mockery of the youth and the proud contempt of the men, especially +of those fat, well fed fellows, who themselves cast a broad shadow. +A lovely and sweet girl, who, as it seemed, accompanied her parents, +while these discreetly only looked before their feet, turned by chance +her flashing eyes upon me. She was obviously terrified; she observed +my want of a shadow, let fall her veil over her beautiful countenance, +and dropping her head, passed in silence. + +I could bear it no longer. Briny streams started from my eyes, and, +cut to the heart, I staggered back into the shade. I was obliged to +support myself against the houses to steady my steps and wearily and +late reached my dwelling. + +I spent a sleepless night. The next morning it was my first care to +have the man in the gray coat everywhere sought after. Possibly I +might succeed in finding him again, and how joyful if he repented of +the foolish bargain as heartily as I did! I ordered Bendel to me, for +he appeared to possess address and tact; I described to him exactly +the man in whose possession lay a treasure without which my life was +only a misery. I told him the time, the place in which I had seen him; +I described to him all who had been present, and added, moreover, this +token: he should particularly inquire after a Dollond's telescope; +after a gold interwoven Turkish carpet; after a splendid +pleasure-tent; and, finally, after the black chargers, whose story, +we knew not how, was connected with that of the mysterious man, who +seemed of no consideration amongst them, and whose appearance had +destroyed the quiet and happiness of my life. + +When I had done speaking I fetched out gold, such a load that I was +scarcely able to carry it, and added thereto precious stones and +jewels of a far greater value. "Bendel," said I, "these level many +ways, and make easy many things which appeared quite impossible; don't +be stingy with it, as I am not, but go and rejoice thy master with the +intelligence on which his only hope depends." + +He went. He returned late and sorrowful. None of the people of Mr. +John, none of his guests, and he had spoken with all, were able, in +the remotest degree, to recollect the man in the gray coat. The new +telescope was there, and no one knew whence it had come; the carpet, +the tent were still there spread and pitched on the selfsame hill; +the servants boasted of the affluence of their master, and no one +knew whence these new valuables had come to him. He himself took his +pleasure in them, and did not trouble himself because he did not know +whence he had them. The young gentlemen had the horses, which they had +ridden, in their stables, and they praised the liberality of Mr. John +who on that day made them a present of them. Thus much was clear from +the circumstantial relation of Bendel, whose active zeal and able +proceeding, although with such fruitless result, received from me +their merited commendation. I gloomily motioned him to leave me alone. + +"I have," began he again, "given my master an account of the matter +which was most important to him. I have yet a message to deliver which +a person gave me whom I met at the door as I went out on the business +in which I have been so unfortunate. The very words of the man were +these: 'Tell Mr. Peter Schlemihl he will not see me here again, as I +am going over sea, and a favorable wind calls me at this moment to +the harbor. But in a year and a day I will have the honor to seek +him myself, and then to propose to him another and probably to him +agreeable transaction. Present my most humble compliments to him, +and assure him of my thanks.' I asked him who he was, but he replied +that your honor knew him already." + +"What was the man's appearance?" cried I, filled with foreboding, and +Bendel sketched me the man in the gray coat, trait by trait, word for +word, as he had accurately described in his former relation the man +after whom he had inquired. + +"Unhappy one!" I exclaimed, wringing my hands--"that was the very +man!" and there fell, as it were, scales from his eyes. + +"Yes! it was he, it was, positively!" cried he in horror, "and +I, blind and imbecile wretch, have not recognized him, have not +recognized him, and have betrayed my master!" + +He broke out into violent weeping; heaped the bitterest reproaches +on himself, and the despair in which he was inspired even me with +compassion. I spoke comfort to him, assured him repeatedly that I +entertained not the slightest doubt of his fidelity, and sent him +instantly to the port, if possible to follow the traces of this +singular man. But in the morning a great number of ships which the +contrary winds had detained in the harbor, had run out, bound to +different climes and different shores, and the gray man had vanished +as tracelessly as a dream. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Of what avail are wings to him who is fast bound in iron fetters? He +is compelled only the more fearfully to despair. I lay, like Faffner +by his treasure, far from every consolation, starving in the midst +of my gold. But my heart was not in it; on the contrary, I cursed it, +because I saw myself through it cut off from all life. Brooding over +my gloomy secret alone, I trembled before the meanest of my servants, +whom at the same time I was forced to envy, for he had a shadow; he +might show himself in the sun. I wore away days and nights in solitary +sorrow in my chamber, and anguish gnawed at my heart. + +There was another who pined away before my eyes; my faithful Bendel +never ceased to torture himself with silent reproaches, that he +had betrayed the trust reposed in him by his master, and had not +recognized him after whom he was dispatched, and with whom he must +believe that my sorrowful fate was intimately interwoven. I could not +lay the fault to his charge; I recognized in the event the mysterious +nature of the Unknown. + +That I might leave nothing untried, I one time sent Bendel with a +valuable brilliant ring to the most celebrated painter of the city, +and begged that he would pay me a visit. He came. I ordered my people +to retire, closed the door, seated myself by the man, and, after I had +praised his art, I came with a heavy heart to the business, causing +him before that to promise the strictest secrecy. + +"Mr. Professor," said I, "could not you, think you, paint a false +shadow for one who, by the most unlucky chance in the world, has +become deprived of his own?" + +"You mean a personal shadow?" + +"That is precisely my meaning"-- + +"But," continued he, "through what awkwardness, through what +negligence, could he then lose his proper shadow?" + +"How it happened," replied I, "is now of very little consequence, but +thus far I may say," added I, lying shamelessly to him; "in Russia, +whither he made a journey last winter, in an extraordinary cold his +shadow froze so fast to the ground that he could by no means loose it +again." + +"The false shadow that I could paint him," replied the professor, +"would only be such a one as by the slightest movement he might lose +again, especially a person, who, as appears by your relation, has so +little adhesion to his own native shadow. He who has no shadow, let +him keep out of the sunshine--that is the safest and most sensible +thing for him." He arose and withdrew, casting at me a trans-piercing +glance which mine could not support. I sunk back in my seat, and +covered my face with my hands. + +Thus Bendel found me, as he at length entered. He saw the grief of his +master, and was desirous silently and reverently to withdraw. I looked +up, I succumbed under the burden of my trouble; I must communicate it. + +"Bendel!" cried I, "Bendel, thou only one who seest my affliction and +respectest it, seekest not to pry into it, but appearest silently and +kindly to sympathize, come to me, Bendel, and be the nearest to my +heart; I have not locked from thee the treasure of my gold, neither +will I lock from thee the treasure of my grief. Bendel, forsake me +not! Bendel, thou beholdest me rich, liberal, kind. Thou imaginest +that the world ought to honor me, and thou seest me fly the world, and +hide myself from it. Bendel, the world has passed judgment, and cast +me from it, and perhaps thou too wilt turn from me when thou knowest +my fearful secret. Bendel, I am rich, liberal, kind, but--O God!--I +have no shadow!" + +"No shadow!" cried the good youth with horror, and the bright +tears gushed from his eyes. "Woe is me, that I was born to serve a +shadowless master!" He was silent, and I held my face buried in my +hands. + +"Bendel," added I, at length, tremblingly--"now hast thou my +confidence, and now canst thou betray it--go forth and testify against +me?" He appeared to be in a heavy conflict with himself; at length, he +flung himself before me and seized my hand, which he bathed with his +tears. + +"No!" exclaimed he, "think the world as it will, I cannot, and will +not, on account of a shadow, abandon my kind master; I will act +justly, and not with policy. I will continue with you, lend you my +shadow, help you when I can, and when I cannot, weep with you." I fell +on his neck, astonished at such unusual sentiment, for I was convinced +that he did it not for gold. + +From that time my fate and my mode of life were in some degree +changed. It is indescribable how providently Bendel continued to +conceal my defect. He was everywhere before me and with me; foreseeing +everything, hitting on contrivances, and, where unforeseen danger +threatened, covering me quickly with his shadow, since he was taller +and bulkier than I. Thus I ventured myself again among men, and began +to play a part in the world. I was obliged, it is true, to assume many +peculiarities and humors, but such become the rich, and, so long +as the truth continued to be concealed, I enjoyed all the honor and +respect which were paid to my wealth. I looked more calmly forward to +the promised visit of the mysterious unknown, at the end of the year +and the day. + +I felt, indeed, that I must not remain long in a place where I had +once been seen without a shadow, and where I might easily be betrayed. +Perhaps I yet thought too much of the manner in which I had introduced +myself to Thomas John, and it was a mortifying recollection. I would +therefore here merely make an experiment, to present myself with more +ease and self-reliance elsewhere, but that now occurred which held me +a long time riveted to my vanity, for there it is in the man that the +anchor bites the firmest ground. + +Even the lovely Fanny, whom I in this place again encountered, honored +me with some notice without recollecting ever to have seen me before; +for I now had wit and sense. As I spoke, people listened, and I could +not, for the life of me, comprehend myself how I had arrived at the +art of maintaining and engrossing so easily the conversation. The +impression which I perceived that I had made on the fair one, made +of me just what she desired--a fool; and I thenceforward followed her +through shade and twilight wherever I could. I was only so far vain +that I wished to make her vain of myself, and found it impossible, +even with the very best intentions, to force the intoxication from my +head to my heart. + +But why repeat to thee the absolutely every-day story at length? Thou +thyself hast often related it to me of other honorable people. To the +old, well-known play in which I good-naturedly undertook a worn-out +part, there came in truth to her and me, and everybody, unexpectedly a +most peculiarly thought-out catastrophe. + +As, according to my wont, I had assembled on a beautiful evening +a party in a garden, I wandered with the lady, arm in arm, at some +distance from the other guests, and exerted myself to strike out +pretty speeches for her. She cast her eyes down modestly, and returned +gently the pressure of my hand, when suddenly the moon broke through +the clouds behind us, and--she saw only her own shadow thrown forward +before her! She started and glanced wildly at me, then again on the +earth, seeking my shadow with her eyes, and what passed within her +painted itself so singularly on her countenance that I should have +burst into a loud laugh if it had not itself run ice-cold over my +back. + +I let her fall from my arms in a swoon, shot like an arrow through the +terrified guests, reached the door, flung myself into the first chaise +which I saw on the stand, and drove back to the city, where this time, +to my cost, I had left the circumspect Bendel. He was terrified as +he saw me; one word revealed to him all. Post horses were immediately +fetched. I took only one of my people with me, an arrant knave, called +Rascal, who had contrived to make himself necessary to me by his +cleverness and who could suspect nothing of today's occurrence. That +night I left upward of thirty miles behind me. Bendel remained behind +me to discharge my establishment, to pay money, and to bring me what +I most required. When he overtook me next day, I threw myself into his +arms, and swore to him never again to run into the like folly, but in +future to be more cautious. We continued our journey without pause, +over the frontiers and the mountains, and it was not till we began to +descend and had placed those lofty bulwarks between us and our former +unlucky abode, that I allowed myself to be persuaded to rest from +the fatigues I had undergone, in a neighboring and little frequented +Bathing-place. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +I must pass in my relation hastily over a time in which how gladly +would I linger, could I but conjure up the living spirit of it with +the recollection. But the color which vivified it, and alone can +vivify it again, is extinguished in me; and when I seek in my bosom +what then so mightily animated it, the grief and the joy, the innocent +illusion--then do I vainly smite a rock in which no living spring now +dwells, and the god is departed from me. How changed does this past +time now appear to me! I would act in the watering place an heroic +character, ill studied, and myself a novice on the boards, and my gaze +was lured from my part by a pair of blue eyes. The parents, deluded by +the play, offer everything only to make the business quickly secure; +and the poor farce closes in mockery. And that is all, all! That +presents itself now to me so absurd and commonplace, and yet it is +terrible, that that can thus appear to me which then so richly, so +luxuriantly, swelled my bosom. Mina! as I wept at losing thee, so weep +I still to have lost thee also in myself. Am I then become so old? Oh, +melancholy reason! Oh, but for one pulsation of that time! one moment +of that illusion! But no! alone on the high waste sea of thy bitter +flood! and long out of the last cup of champagne the elfin has +vanished! + +I had sent forward Bendel with some purses of gold to procure for +me in the little town a dwelling adapted to my needs. He had +there scattered about much money, and expressed himself somewhat +indefinitely respecting the distinguished stranger whom he served, +for I would not be named, and that filled the good people with +extraordinary fancies. As soon as my house was ready Bendel returned +to conduct me thither. We set out. + +About three miles from the place, on a sunny plain, our progress was +obstructed by a gay festal throng. The carriage stopped. Music, sound +of bells, discharge of cannon, were heard; a loud _vivat_! rent the +air; before the door of the carriage appeared, clad in white, a troop +of damsels of extraordinary beauty, but who were eclipsed by one in +particular, as the stars of night by the sun. She stepped forth +from the midst of her sisters; the tall and delicate figure kneeled +blushing before me, and presented to me on a silken cushion a garland +woven of laurel, olive branches, and roses, while she uttered some +words about majesty, veneration and love, which I did not understand, +but whose bewitching silver tone intoxicated my ear and heart. It +seemed as if the heavenly apparition had some time previously passed +before me. The chorus struck in, and sung the praises of a good king +and the happiness of his people. + +And this scene, my dear friend, in the face of the sun! She kneeled +still only two paces from me, and I, without a shadow, could not +spring over the gulf, could not also fall on the knee before the +angel! Oh! what would I then have given for a shadow! I was compelled +to hide my shame, my anguish, my despair, deep in the bottom of my +carriage. At length Bendel recollected himself on my behalf. He leaped +out of the carriage on the other side. I called him back, and gave +him out of my jewel-case, which lay at hand, a splendid diamond crown, +which had been made to adorn the brows of the lovely Fanny! He stepped +forward and spoke in the name of his master, who could not and would +not receive such tokens of homage; there must be some mistake; but the +people of the city should be thanked for their good-will. As he said +this, he took up the proffered wreath, and laid the brilliant coronet +in its place. He then respectfully extended his hand to the lovely +maiden, that she might arise, and dismissed, with a sign, clergy, +magistrates, and all the deputations. No one else was allowed to +approach. He ordered the throng to divide and make way for the horses, +sprang again into the carriage, and on we went at full gallop, +through a festive archway of foliage and flowers toward the city. The +discharges of cannon continued. The carriage stopped before my house. +I sprang hastily in at the door, dividing the crowd which the desire +to see me had collected. The mob hurrahed under my window, and I let +double ducats rain out of it. In the evening the city was voluntarily +illuminated. + +And yet I did not at all know what all this could mean, and who I was +supposed to be. I sent out Rascal to make inquiry. He brought word to +this effect: That the people had received reliable intelligence that +the good king of Prussia traveled through the country under the name +of a count; that my adjutant had been recognized, thus betraying +himself and me; and, finally, how great the joy was as they became +certain that they really had me in the place. They now, 'tis true, +saw clearly that I evidently desired to maintain the strictest +_incognito_, and how very wrong it had been to attempt so +importunately to lift the veil. But I had resented it so graciously, +so kindly--I should certainly pardon their good-heartedness. + +The thing appeared so amusing to the rogue that he did his best, by +reproving words, to strengthen, for the present, the good folk in +their belief. He gave a very comical report of all this to me; and +as he found that it diverted me, he made a joke to me of his own +wickedness. Shall I confess it? It flattered me, even by such means, +to be taken for that honored head. + +I commanded a feast to be prepared for the evening of the next day +beneath the trees which overshadowed the open space before my house, +and the whole city to be invited to it. The mysterious power of +my purse, the exertions of Bendel, and the inventiveness of Rascal +succeeded in triumphing over time itself. It is really astonishing how +richly and beautifully everything was arranged in those few hours. The +splendor and abundance which exhibited themselves, and the ingenious +lighting up, so admirably contrived that I felt myself quite secure, +left me nothing to desire. I could not but praise my servants. + +The evening grew dark; the guests appeared, and were presented to me. +Nothing more was said about Majesty; I was styled with deep reverence +and obeisance, Count. What was to be done? I allowed the title to +stand, and remained from that hour Count Peter. In the midst of +festive multitudes my soul yearned alone after one. She entered +late--she was and wore the crown. She followed modestly her parents, +and seemed not to know that she was the loveliest of all. They were +presented to me as Mr. Forest-master, his lady and their daughter. +I found many agreeable and obliging things to say to the old people; +before the daughter I stood like a rebuked boy, and could not bring +out one word. I begged her, at length, with a faltering tone, to +honor this feast by assuming the office whose insignia she graced. She +entreated with blushes and a moving look to be excused; but blushing +still more than herself in her presence, I paid her as her first +subject my homage, with a most profound respect, and the hint of the +Count became to all the guests a command which every one with emulous +joy hastened to obey. Majesty, innocence, and grace presided in +alliance with beauty over a rapturous feast. Mina's happy parents +believed their child thus exalted only in honor of them. I myself was +in an indescribable intoxication. I caused all the jewels which yet +remained of those which I had formerly purchased, in order to get rid +of burthensome gold, all the pearls, all the precious stones, to +be laid in two covered dishes, and at the table, in the name of +the queen, to be distributed round to her companions and to all +the ladies. Gold, in the meantime, was incessantly strewed over the +encompassing ropes among the exulting people. + +Bendel, the next morning, revealed to me in confidence that the +suspicion which he had long entertained of Rascal's honesty was now +become certainty--that he had yesterday embezzled whole purses of +gold. "Let us permit," replied I, "the poor scoundrel to enjoy +the petty plunder. I spend willingly on everybody, why not on him? +Yesterday he and all the fresh people you have brought me served me +honestly; they helped me joyfully to celebrate a joyful feast." + +There was no further mention of it. Rascal remained the first of my +servants, but Bendel was my friend and my confidant. The latter was +accustomed to regard my wealth as inexhaustible, and he pried not +after its sources; entering into my humor, he assisted me rather to +discover opportunities to exercise it, and to spend my gold. Of that +unknown one, that pale sneak, he knew only this, that I could alone +through him be absolved from the curse which weighed on me; and that +I feared him, on whom my sole hope reposed. That, for the rest, I was +convinced that he could discover me anywhere; I him nowhere; and that +therefore awaiting the promised day, I abandoned every vain inquiry. + +The magnificence of my feast, and my behavior at it, held at first +the credulous inhabitants of the city firmly to their preconceived +opinion. True, it was soon stated in the newspapers that the whole +story of the journey of the king of Prussia had been a mere groundless +rumor: but a king I now was, and must, spite of everything, a king +remain, and truly one of the most rich and royal who had ever existed; +only people did not rightly know what king. The world has never had +reason to complain of the scarcity of monarchs, at least in our time. +The good people who had never seen any of them pitched with equal +correctness first on one and then on another; Count Peter still +remained who he was. + +At one time appeared amongst the guests at the Bath a tradesman, who +had made himself bankrupt in order to enrich himself; and who enjoyed +universal esteem, and had a broad though somewhat pale shadow. The +property which he had scraped together he resolved to lay out in +ostentation, and it even occurred to him to enter into rivalry with +me. I had recourse to my purse, and soon brought the poor devil to +such a pass that, in order to save his credit, he was obliged to +become bankrupt a second time, and hasten over the frontier. Thus +I got rid of him. In this neighborhood I made many idlers and +good-for-nothing fellows. + +With all the royal splendor and expenditure by which I made all +succumb to me, I still in my own house lived very simply and retired. +I had established the strictest circumspection as a rule. No one +except Bendel, under any pretence whatever, was allowed to enter the +rooms which I inhabited. So long as the sun shone I kept myself shut +up there, and it was said "the Count is employed with his cabinet." +With this employment numerous couriers stood in connection, whom I, +for every trifle, sent out and received. I received company in the +evening only under my trees, or in my hall arranged and lighted +according to Bendel's plan. When I went out, on which occasions it +was necessary that I should be constantly watched by the Argus eyes +of Bendel, it was only to the Forester's Garden, for the sake of one +alone; for my love was the innermost heart of my life. + +Oh, my good Chamisso! I will hope that thou hast not yet forgotten +what love is! I leave much unmentioned here to thee. Mina was really +an amiable, kind, good child. I had taken her whole imagination +captive. She could not, in her humility, conceive how she could +be worthy that I should alone have fixed my regard on her; and she +returned love for love with all the youthful power of an innocent +heart. She loved like a woman, offering herself wholly up; +self-forgetting; living wholly and solely for him who was her life; +regardless if she herself perished; that is to say--she really loved. + +But I--oh what terrible hours--terrible and yet worthy that I should +wish them back again--have I often wept on Bendel's bosom, when, +after the first unconscious intoxication, I recollected myself, looked +sharply into myself--I, without a shadow, with knavish selfishness +destroying this angel, this pure soul which I had deceived and stolen. +Then did I resolve to reveal myself to her; then did I swear with a +most passionate oath to tear myself from her, and to fly; then did +I burst out into tears, and concert with Bendel how in the evening I +should visit her in the Forester's garden. + +At other times I flattered myself with great expectations from the +rapidly approaching visit of the gray man, and wept again when I had +in vain tried to believe in it. I had calculated the day on which I +expected again to see the fearful one; for he had said in a year and a +day; and I believed his word. + +The parents, good honorable old people, who loved their only child +extremely, were amazed at the connection, as it already stood, and +they knew not what to do in it. Earlier they could not have believed +that Count Peter could think only of their child; but now he really +loved her and was beloved again. The mother was probably vain enough +to believe in the probability of a union, and to seek for it; the +sound masculine understanding of the father did not give way to such +overstretched imaginations. Both were persuaded of the purity of my +love; they could do nothing more than pray for their child. + +I have laid my hand on a letter from Mina of this date, which I still +retain. Yes, this is her own writing. I transcribe it for thee: + +"I am a weak silly maiden, and cannot believe that my beloved, because +I love him dearly, dearly, will make the poor girl unhappy. Ah! thou +art so kind, so inexpressibly kind, but do not misunderstand me. Thou +shalt sacrifice nothing for me, desire to sacrifice nothing for me. +Oh God! I should hate myself if thou didst! No--thou hast made me +immeasurably happy; hast taught me to love thee. Away! I know my own +fate. Count Peter belongs not to me, he belongs to the world. I will +be proud when I hear--'that was he, and that was he again--and that +has he accomplished; there they have worshipped him, and there they +have deified him!' See, when I think of this, then am I angry with +thee that with a simple child thou canst forget thy high destiny. +Away! or the thought will make me miserable! I--oh! who through thee +am so happy, so blessed! Have I not woven, too, an olive branch and +a rosebud into thy life, as into the wreath which I was allowed to +present to thee? I have thee in my heart, my beloved; fear not to +leave me. I will die oh! so happy, so ineffably happy through thee!" + +Thou canst imagine how the words must cut through my heart. I +explained to her that I was not what people believed me, that I was +only a rich but infinitely miserable man. That a curse rested on me, +which must be the only secret between us, since I was not yet without +hope that it should be solved. That this was the poison of my days; +that I might drag her down with me into the gulf--she who was the sole +light, the sole happiness, the sole heart of my life. Then wept she +again, because I was unhappy. Ah, she was so loving, so kind! To spare +me but one tear, she, and with what transport, would have sacrificed +herself without reserve! + +She was, however, far from rightly comprehending my words; she +conceived in me some prince on whom had fallen a heavy ban, some high +and honored head, and her imagination amidst heroic pictures limned +forth her lover gloriously. + +Once I said to her--"Mina, the last day in the next month may change +my fate and decide it--if not I must die, for I will not make thee +unhappy." Weeping she hid her head in my bosom. "If thy fortune +changes, let me know that thou art happy. I have no claim on thee. Art +thou wretched, bind me to thy wretchedness, that I may help thee to +bear it." + +"Maiden! maiden! take it back, that quick word, that foolish word +which escaped thy lips. And knowest thou this wretchedness? Knowest +thou this curse? Knowest who thy lover--what he? Seest thou not that +I convulsively shrink together, and have a secret from thee?" She fell +sobbing to my feet, and repeated with oaths her entreaty. + +I announced to the Forest-master, who entered, that it was my +intention on the first of the approaching month to solicit the hand of +his daughter. I fixed precisely this time, because in the interim many +things might occur which might influence my fortunes; but I insisted +that I was unchangeable in my love to his daughter. + +The good man was quite startled as he heard such words out of the +mouth of Count Peter. He fell on my neck, and again became quite +ashamed to have thus forgotten himself. Then he began to doubt, to +weigh, and to inquire. He spoke of dowry, security, and the future of +his beloved child. I thanked him for reminding me of these things. I +told him that I desired to settle down in this neighborhood where I +seemed to be beloved, and to lead a care-free life. I begged him to +purchase the finest estates that the country had to offer, in the name +of his daughter, and to charge the cost to me. A father could, in such +matter, best serve a lover. It gave him enough to do, for everywhere +a stranger was before him, and he could only purchase for about a +million. + +My thus employing him was, at the bottom, an innocent scheme to remove +him to a distance, and I had employed him similarly before; for I +must confess that he was rather wearisome. The good mother was, on the +contrary, somewhat deaf, and not, like him, jealous of the honor of +entertaining the Count. + +The mother joined us. The happy people pressed me to stay longer with +them that evening--I dared not remain another minute. I saw already +the rising moon glimmer on the horizon--my time was up. + +The next evening I went again to the Forester's garden. I had thrown +my cloak over my shoulders and pulled my hat over my eyes. I advanced +to Mina. As she looked up and beheld me, she gave an involuntary +start, and there stood again clear before my soul the apparition of +that terrible night when I showed myself in the moonlight without a +shadow. It was actually she! But had she also recognized me again? She +was silent and thoughtful; on my bosom lay a hundred-weight pressure. +I arose from my seat. She threw herself silently weeping on my bosom. +I went. + +I now found her often in tears. It grew darker and darker in my soul; +the parents swam only in supreme felicity; the faith-day passed on sad +and sullen as a thunder-cloud. The eve of the day was come. I could +scarcely breathe. I had in precaution filled several chests with gold. +I watched the midnight hour approach--It struck. + +I now sat, my eye fixed on the fingers of the clock, counting the +seconds, the minutes, like dagger-strokes. At every noise which +arose, I started up; the day broke. The leaden hours crowded one upon +another. It was noon--evening--night; as the clock fingers sped on, +hope withered; it struck eleven and nothing appeared; the last minutes +of the last hour fell, and nothing appeared. It struck the first +stroke--the last stroke of the twelfth hour, and I sank hopeless +and in boundless tears upon my bed. On the morrow I should--forever +shadowless, solicit the hand of my beloved. Toward morning an anxious +sleep pressed down my eyelids. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +It was still early morning when voices, which were raised in my +ante-chamber in violent dispute, awoke me. I listened. Bendel forbade +entrance; Rascal swore high and hotly that he would receive no +commands from his equal, and insisted on forcing his way into my room. +The good Bendel warned him that such words, came they to my ear, would +turn him out of his most advantageous service. Rascal threatened to +lay hands on him if he any longer obstructed his entrance. + +I had half dressed myself. I flung the door wrathfully open, and +advanced to Rascal--"What wantest thou, villain?" He stepped two +strides backward, and replied quite coolly: "To request you most +humbly, Count, for once to allow me to see your shadow--the sun shines +at this moment so beautifully in the court." + +I was struck as with thunder. It was some time before I could recover +my speech. "How can a servant toward his master"--he interrupted very +calmly my speech. + +"A servant may be a very honorable man, and not be willing to serve +a shadowless master--I demand my discharge." It was necessary to try +other chords. "But honest, dear Rascal, who has put the unlucky idea +into your head? How canst thou believe--?" + +He proceeded in the same tone: "People will assert that you have +no shadow--and, in short, you show me your shadow, or give me my +discharge." + +Bendel, pale and trembling, but more discreet than I, gave me a sign. +I sought refuge in the all-silencing gold; but that too had lost +its power. He threw it at my feet. "From a shadowless man I accept +nothing!" He turned his back upon me, and went most deliberately out +of the room with his hat upon his head, and whistling a tune. I stood +there with Bendel as one turned to stone, thoughtless, motionless, +gazing after him. + +Heavily sighing and with death in my heart, I prepared myself at last +to redeem my promise, and, like a criminal before his judge, to appear +in the Forest-master's garden. I alighted in the dark arbor, which was +named after me, and where they would be sure also this time to await +me. The mother met me, care-free and joyous. Mina sat there, pale and +lovely as the first snow which often in the autumn kisses the +last flowers and then instantly dissolves into bitter water. The +Forest-master went agitatedly to and fro, a written paper in his +hand, and appeared to force down many things in himself which painted +themselves with rapidly alternating flushes and paleness on his +otherwise immovable countenance. He came up to me as I entered, and +with frequently choked words begged to speak with me alone. The path +in which he invited me to follow him, led us toward an open, sunny +part of the garden. I sank speechless on a seat, and then followed a +long silence which even the good mother dared not interrupt. + +The Forest-master raged continually with unequal steps to and fro in +the arbor, and, suddenly halting before me, glanced on the paper which +he held, and demanded of me with a searching look-- + +"May not, Count, a certain Peter Schlemihl be not quite unknown +to you?" I was silent. "A man of superior character and singular +attainments--" He paused for an answer. + +"And suppose I were the same man?" + +"Who," added he vehemently--"has, by some means, lost his shadow!" + +"Oh, my foreboding, my foreboding!" exclaimed Mina. "Yes, I have long +known it, he has no shadow;" and she flung herself into the arms of +her mother, who, terrified, clasped her convulsively, and upbraided +her that to her own hurt she had kept to herself such a secret. But +she, like Arethusa, was changed into a fountain of tears, which at the +sound of my voice flowed still more copiously and at my approach burst +forth in torrents. + +"And you," again grimly began the Forest-master, "and you, with +unparalleled impudence, have made no scruple to deceive these and +myself, and you give out that you love her whom you brought into this +predicament. See, there, how she weeps and writhes! Oh, horrible! +horrible!" + +I had to such a degree lost my composure that, talking like one +crazed, I began--"And, after all, a shadow is nothing but a shadow; +one can do very well without that, and it is not worth while to make +such a riot about it." But I felt so sharply the baselessness of what +I was saying that I stopped of myself, without his deigning me an +answer, and I then added--"What one has lost at one time may be found +again at another!" + +He fiercely rebuked me "Confess to me, sir, confess to me, how became +you deprived of your shadow!" + +I was compelled again to lie. "A rude fellow one day trod so heavily +on my shadow that he rent a great hole in it. I have only sent it to +be mended, for money can do much, and I was to have received it back +yesterday." + +"Good, sir, very good!" replied the Forest-master. "You solicit my +daughter's hand; others do the same. I have, as her father, to care +for her. I give you three days in which you may seek for a shadow. If +you appear before me within these three days with a good, well-fitting +shadow, you shall be welcome to me; but on the fourth day--I tell you +plainly--my daughter is the wife of another." + +I would yet attempt to speak a word to Mina, but she clung, sobbing +violently, only closer to her mother's breast, who silently motioned +me to withdraw. I reeled away, and the world seemed to close itself +behind me. + +Escaped from Bendel's affectionate oversight, I traversed in erring +course woods and fields. The perspiration of my agony dropped from my +brow, a hollow groaning convulsed my bosom, madness raged within me. + +I know not how long this had continued, when, on a sunny heath, I felt +myself plucked by the sleeve. I stood still and looked round--it was +the man in the gray coat, who seemed to have run himself quite out of +breath in pursuit of me. He immediately began: + +"I had announced myself for today, but you could not wait the time. +There is nothing amiss, however, yet. You consider the matter, receive +your shadow again in exchange, which is at your service, and turn +immediately back. You shall be welcome in the Forest-master's garden; +the whole has been only a joke. Rascal, who has betrayed you, and who +seeks the hand of your bride, I will take charge of; the fellow is +ripe." + +I stood there as if in a dream. "Announced for today?" I counted over +again the time--he was right. I had constantly miscalculated a day. +I sought with the right hand in my bosom for my purse; he guessed my +meaning, and stepped two paces backwards. + +"No, Count, that is in too good hands, keep you that." I stared at +him with eyes of inquiring wonder, and he proceeded: "I request only a +trifle, as memento. You be so good as to set your name to this paper." +On the parchment stood the words: + +"By virtue of this my signature, I make over my soul to the holder of +this, after its natural separation from the body." + +I gazed with speechless amazement, alternately at the writing and the +gray unknown. Meanwhile, with a new-cut quill he had taken up a +drop of blood which flowed from a fresh thorn-scratch on my hand and +presented it to me. + +"Who are you, after all?" at length I asked him. + +"What does it matter?" he replied. "And is it not plainly written on +me? A poor devil, a sort of learned man and doctor, who, in return +for precious arts, receives from his friends poor thanks, and, for +himself, has no other amusement on earth but to make his little +experiments.--But, however, sign. To the right there--PETER +SCHLEMIHL." + +I shook my head, and said: "Pardon me, sir, I do not sign that." + +"Not?" replied he, in amaze; "and why not?" + +"It seems to me to a certain degree serious to stake my soul on a +shadow." + +"So, so," repeated he, "serious!" and he laughed almost in my face. +"And, if I might venture to ask, what sort of a thing is that soul of +yours? Have you ever seen it? And what do you think of doing with it +when you are dead? Be glad that you have found an amateur who in your +lifetime is willing to pay you for the bequest of this _x_, of this +galvanic power, or polarized Activity, or what-ever-this silly thing +may be, with something actual; that is to say, with your real shadow, +through which you may arrive at the hand of your beloved and at the +accomplishment of all your desires. Will you rather push forth, and +deliver up that poor young creature to that low bred scoundrel Rascal? +No, you must witness that with your own eyes. Here, I lend you the +magic-cap"--he drew it from his pocket--"and we will proceed unseen to +the Forester's garden." + +I must confess that I was excessively ashamed of being derided by this +man. I detested him from the bottom of my heart; and I believe that +this personal antipathy withheld me, more than principle or prejudice, +from purchasing my shadow, essential as it was, by the required +signature. The thought also was intolerable to me of making the +excursion which he proposed, in his company. To see this abhorred +sneak, this mocking kobold, step between me and my beloved, two torn +and bleeding hearts, revolted my innermost feeling. I regarded what +was past as predestined, and my wretchedness as unchangeable, and +turning to the man, I said to him-- + +"Sir, I have sold you my shadow for this in itself most excellent +purse, and I have sufficiently repented of it. If the bargain can be +broken off, then in God's name--!" He shook his head, and made a very +gloomy face. I continued: "I will then sell you nothing further of +mine, even for this offered price of my shadow; and, therefore, I +shall sign nothing. From this you may understand, that the muffling-up +to which you invite me must be much more amusing for you than for me. +Excuse me, therefore; and as it cannot now be otherwise, let us part." + +"It grieves me, Monsieur Schlemihl, that you obstinately decline the +business which I propose to you as a friend. Perhaps another time I +may be more fortunate. Till our speedy meeting again!--Apropos: Permit +me yet to show you that the things which I purchase I by no means +suffer to grow moldy, but honorably preserve, and that they are well +taken care of by me." + +With that he drew my shadow out of his pocket and with a dexterous +throw unfolding it on the heath, spread it out on the sunny side of +his feet, so that he walked between two attendant shadows, his own +and mine, for mine must equally obey him and accommodate itself to and +follow all his movements. + +When I once saw my poor shadow again, after so long an absence, and +beheld it degraded to so vile a service, whilst I, on its account, was +in such unspeakable trouble, my heart broke, and I began bitterly to +weep. The detested wretch swaggered with the plunder snatched from me, +and impudently renewed his proposal. + +"You can yet have it. A stroke of the pen, and you snatch therewith +the poor unhappy Mina from the claws of the villain into the arms of +the most honored Count--as observed, only a stroke of the pen." + +My tears burst forth with fresh impetuosity, but I turned away and +motioned to him to withdraw himself. Bendel, who, filled with anxiety, +had traced me to this spot, at this moment arrived. When the kind good +soul found me weeping, and saw my shadow, which could not be mistaken, +in the power of the mysterious gray man, he immediately resolved, was +it even by force, to restore to me the possession of my property; +and as he did not understand how to deal with such a tender thing, he +immediately assaulted the man with words, and, without much asking, +ordered him bluntly to return my property to me. Instead of an answer, +he turned his back to the innocent young fellow and went. But Bendel +up with his buckthorn cudgel which he carried, and, following on his +heels, without mercy, and with reiterated commands to give up the +shadow, made him feel the full force of his vigorous arm. He, as +accustomed to such handling, ducked his head, rounded his shoulders, +and with silent and deliberate steps pursued his way over the heath, +at once going off with my shadow and my faithful servant. I long heard +the heavy sounds roll over the waste, till they were finally lost in +the distance. I was alone, as before, with my misery. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Left alone on the wild heath, I gave free current to my countless +tears, relieving my heart from an ineffably weary weight. But I saw no +bound, no outlet, no end to my intolerable misery, and I drank besides +with savage thirst of the fresh poison which the unknown had poured +into my wounds. When I called the image of Mina before my soul, and +the dear, sweet form appeared pale and in tears, as I saw her last in +my shame, then stepped, impudent and mocking, Rascal's shadow between +her and me; I covered my face and fled through the wild. Yet the +hideous apparition left me not, but pursued me in my flight, till I +sank breathless on the ground, and moistened it with a fresh torrent +of tears. + +And all for a shadow! And this shadow a pen-stroke could have obtained +for me! I thought over the strange proposition and my refusal. All +was chaos in me. I had no longer either discernment or faculty of +comprehension. + +The day went along. I stilled my hunger with wild fruits, my thirst +in the nearest mountain stream. The night fell; I lay down beneath a +tree. The damp morning awoke me out of a heavy sleep in which I heard +myself rattle in the throat as in death. Bendel must have lost all +trace of me, and it rejoiced me to think so. I would not return again +amongst men before whom I fled in terror, like the timid game of the +mountains. Thus I lived through three weary days. + +On the fourth morning I found myself on a sandy plain bright with +the sun, and sat on a rock in its beams, for I loved now to enjoy its +long-withheld countenance. I silently fed my heart with its despair. A +light rustle startled me. Ready for flight I threw round me a hurried +glance; I saw no one, but in the sunny sand there glided past me a +human shadow, not unlike my own, which, wandering there alone, +seemed to have escaped from its possessor. There awoke in me a mighty +yearning. "Shadow," said I, "dost thou seek thy master? I will be he," +and I sprang forward to seize it. I thought that if I succeeded in +treading on it so that its feet touched mine, it probably would remain +hanging there, and in time accommodate itself to me. + +The shadow, on my moving, fled before me, and I was compelled to begin +a strenuous chase of the light fugitive, for which the thought of +rescuing myself from my fearful condition could alone have endowed me +with the requisite vigor. It flew toward a wood, at a great distance, +in which I must, of necessity, have lost it. I perceived this--a +horror convulsed my heart, inflamed my desire, added wings to my +speed; I gained evidently on the shadow, I came continually nearer, +I must certainly reach it. Suddenly it stopped, and turned toward me. +Like a lion on its prey, I shot with a mighty spring forward to make +seizure of it--and dashed unexpectedly against a hard and bodily +object. Invisibly I received the most unprecedented blows on the ribs +that mortal man probably ever received. + +The effect of the terror in me was convulsively to close my arms, +and firmly to inclose that which stood unseen before me. In the rapid +transaction I plunged forward to the ground, but backward and under me +was a man whom I had embraced and who now first became visible. + +The whole occurrence then became very naturally explicable to me. The +man must have carried the invisible bird's nest which renders him who +holds it, but not his shadow, imperceptible, and had now cast it away. +I glanced round, soon discovered the shadow of the invisible nest +itself, leaped up and toward it, and did not miss the precious prize. +Invisible and shadowless, I held the nest in my hand. + +The man swiftly springing up, gazing round instantly after his +fortunate conqueror, descried on the wide sunny plain neither him nor +his shadow, for which he sought with especial avidity. For that I was +myself entirely shadowless he had no leisure to remark, nor could he +imagine such a thing. Having convinced himself that every trace had +vanished, he turned his hand against himself and tore his hair in +great despair. To me, however, the acquired treasure had given +the power and desire to mix again amongst men. I did not want for +self-satisfying palliatives for my base robbery, or, rather, I had no +need of them; and to escape from every thought of the kind, I hastened +away, not even looking round at the unhappy one, whose deploring voice +I long heard resounding behind me. Thus, at least, appeared to me the +circumstances at the time. + +I was on fire to proceed to the Forester's garden, and there myself +to discern the truth of what the Detested One had told me. I knew not, +however, where I was. I climbed the next hill, in order to look round +over the country, and perceived from its summit the near city and the +Forester's garden lying at my feet. My heart beat violently, and tears +of another kind than what I had till now shed rushed into my eyes. I +should see her again! Anxious desire hastened my steps down the most +direct path. I passed unseen some peasants who came out of the city. +They were talking of me, of Rascal, and the Forest-master; I would +hear nothing--I hurried past. + +I entered the garden, all the tremor of expectation in my bosom. I +seemed to hear laughter near me. I shuddered, threw a rapid glance +round me, but could discover nobody. I advanced farther. I seemed to +perceive a sound as of man's steps near me, but there was nothing to +be seen. I believed myself deceived by my ear. It was yet early, no +one in Count Peter's arbor, the garden still empty. I traversed the +well-known paths. I penetrated to the very front of the dwelling. +The same noise more distinctly followed me. I seated myself with an +agonized heart on a bench which stood in the sunny space before the +house-door. It seemed as if I had heard the unseen kobold, laughing in +mockery, seat himself near me. The key turned in the door, it opened, +and the Forest-master issued forth with papers in his hand. A mist +seemed to envelop my head. I looked up, and--horror! the man in the +gray coat sat by me, gazing on me with a satanic leer. He had drawn +his magic-cap at once over his head and mine; at his feet lay his +and my shadow peaceably by each other. He played negligently with +the well-known parchment which he held in his hand, and as the +Forest-master, busied with his documents, went to and fro in the +shadow of the arbor, he stooped familiarly to my ear and whispered +in it these words--"So then you have, notwithstanding, accepted my +invitation, and here sit we for once, two heads under one cap. All +right! all right! But now give me my bird's nest again; you have no +further need of it, and are too honest a man to wish to withhold it +from me; but there needs no thanks; I assure you that I have lent it +you with the most hearty good will." He took it unceremoniously out +of my hand, put it in his pocket, and laughed at me again, and that so +loud that the Forest-master himself looked round at the noise. I sat +there as if changed to stone. + +"But you must admit," continued he, "that such a cap is much more +convenient. It covers not only your person but your shadow at the same +time, and as many others as you have a mind to take with you. See you +again today. I conduct two of them"--he laughed again. "Mark this, +Schlemihl; what we at first won't do with a good will, that will we +in the end be compelled to. I still fancy you will buy that thing +from me, take back the bride (for it is yet time), and we leave Rascal +dangling on the gallows, an easy thing for us so long as rope is to be +had. Hear you--I will give you also my cap into the bargain." + +The mother came forth, and the conversation began. "How goes it with +Mina?" + +"She weeps." + +"Silly child! it cannot be altered!" + +"Certainly not; but to give her to another so soon? Oh, man! thou art +cruel to thy own child." + +"No, mother, that thou quite mistakest. When she, even before she has +wept out her childish tears, finds herself the wife of a very rich and +honorable man, she will awake comforted out of her trouble as out of a +dream, and thank God and us--that shalt thou see!" + +"God grant it!" + +"She possesses now, indeed, a very respectable property; but after the +stir that this unlucky affair with the adventurer has made, canst +thou believe that a partner so suitable as Mr. Rascal could be readily +found for her? Dost thou know what a fortune Mr. Rascal possesses? He +has paid six millions for estates here in the country, free from +all debts. I have had the title deeds in my own hands! He it was +who everywhere had the start of me; and, besides this, has in his +possession bills on Thomas John for about three and a half millions." + +"He must have stolen enormously!" + +"What talk is that again! He has wisely saved what would otherwise +have been lavished away." + +"A man that has worn livery--" + +"Stupid stuff! He has, however, an unblemished shadow." + +"Thou art right, but--" + +The man in the gray coat laughed and looked at me. The door opened and +Mina came forth. She supported herself on the arm of a chambermaid, +silent tears rolling down her lovely pale cheeks. She seated herself +on a stool which was placed for her under the lime trees, and her +father took a chair by her. He tenderly took her hand, and addressed +her with tender words, while she began violently to weep. + +"Thou art my good, dear child, and thou wilt be reasonable, wilt not +wish to distress thy old father, who seeks only thy happiness. I can +well conceive it, dear heart, that it has sadly shaken thee. Thou art +wonderfully escaped from thy misfortunes! Before we discovered the +scandalous imposition, thou hadst loved this unworthy one greatly; +see, Mina, I know it, and upbraid thee not for it. I myself, dear +child, also loved him so long as I looked upon him as a great +gentleman. But now thou seest how different all has turned out. What! +every poodle has his own shadow, and should my dear child have a +husband--no! thou thinkest, indeed, no more about him. Listen, Mina! +Now a man solicits thy hand, who does not shun the sunshine, an +honorable man, who truly is no prince, but who possesses ten millions, +ten times more than thou; a man who will make my dear child happy. +Answer me not, make no opposition, be my good, dutiful daughter, let +thy loving father care for thee, and dry thy tears. Promise me to give +thy hand to Mr. Rascal. Say, wilt thou promise me this?" + +She answered with a faint voice--"I have no will, no wish further upon +earth. Happen with me what my father will." + +At this moment Mr. Rascal was announced, and stepped impudently into +the circle. Mina lay in a swoon. My detested companion glanced angrily +at me, and whispered in hurried words--"And that can you endure? What +then flows instead of blood in your veins?" He scratched with a +hasty movement a slight wound in my hand, blood flowed, and he +continued--"Actually red blood!--So sign then!" I had the parchment +and the pen in my hand. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +My wish, dear Chamisso, is merely to submit myself to thy judgment, +not to endeavor to bias it. I have long passed the severest sentence +on myself, for I have nourished the tormenting worm in my heart. It +hovered during this solemn moment of my life incessantly before my +soul, and I could only lift my eyes to it with a doubting glance, with +humility and contrition. Dear friend, he who in levity only sets his +foot out of the right road, is unawares conducted into other paths, +which draw him downward and ever downward; he then sees in vain the +guiding stars glitter in heaven; there remains to him no choice; +he must descend unpausingly the declivity and become a voluntary +sacrifice to Nemesis. After the hasty false step which had laid the +curse upon me, I had, sinning through love, forced myself into the +fortunes of another being, and what remained for me but that, where +I had sowed destruction, where speedy salvation was demanded of me, I +should blindly rush forward to the rescue?--for the last hour struck! +Think not so meanly of me, my Adelbert, as to imagine that I should +have regarded any price that was demanded as too high, that I should +have begrudged anything that was mine even more than my gold. No, +Adelbert! but my soul was possessed with the most unconquerable +hatred of this mysterious sneaker along crooked paths. I might do him +injustice, but every degree of association with him revolted me. And +here stepped forth, as so frequently in my life, and as in general +so often in the history of the world, an event instead of an action. +Since then I have achieved reconciliation with myself. I have learned, +in the first place, to reverence necessity; and what is more than the +action performed, the event accomplished--her propriety. Then I have +learned to venerate this necessity as a wise Providence, which lives +through that great collective machine in which we officiate simply as +coöperating, impelling, and impelled wheels. What shall be, must be; +what should be, happened, and not without that Providence, which I +ultimately learned to reverence in my own fate and in the fate of +those on whom mine thus impinged. + +I know not whether I shall ascribe it to the excitement of my soul +under the impulse of such mighty sensations; or to the exhaustion +of my physical strength, which during the last days such unwonted +privations had enfeebled; or whether, finally, to the desolating +commotion which the presence of this gray fiend excited in my whole +nature--be that as it may, as I was on the point of signing I fell +into a deep swoon and lay a long time as in the arms of death. + +Stamping of feet and curses were the first sounds which struck my +ear as I returned to consciousness. I opened my eyes; it was dark; my +detested attendant was busied scolding me. "Is not that to behave like +an old woman? Up with you, man, and complete off-hand what you have +resolved on, if you have not taken another thought and had rather +blubber!" I raised myself with difficulty from the ground and gazed +in silence around. It was late in the evening; festive music resounded +from the brightly illuminated Forester's house; various groups of +people wandered through the garden walks. One couple came near in +conversation, and seated themselves on the bench which I had just +quitted. They talked of the union this morning solemnized between the +rich Mr. Rascal and the daughter of the house. So, then, it had taken +place! + +I tore the magic-cap of the already vanished unknown from my head, and +hastened in brooding silence toward the garden gate, plunging myself +into the deepest night of the thicket and striking along the path past +Count Peter's arbor. But invisibly my tormenting spirit accompanied +me, pursuing me with keenest reproaches. "These then are one's thanks +for the pains which one has taken to support Monsieur, who has weak +nerves, through the long precious day. And one shall act the fool in +the play. Good, Mr. Wronghead, fly you from me if you please, but we +are, nevertheless, inseparable. You have my gold and I your shadow, +and this will allow us no repose. Did anybody ever hear of a shadow +forsaking its master? Your's draws me after you till you take it back +again graciously, and I get rid of it. What you have hesitated to do +out of fresh pleasure, will you, only too late, be compelled to seek +through new weariness and disgust. One cannot escape one's fate." He +continued speaking in the same tone. I fled in vain; he relaxed not, +but, ever present, mockingly talked of gold and shadow. I could come +to no single thought of my own. + +I struck through empty streets toward my house. When I stood before +it, and gazed at it, I could scarcely recognize it. No light shone +through the dashed-in windows. The doors were closed; no throng of +servants was moving therein. There was a laugh near me. "Ha! ha! so +goes it! But you'll probably find your Bendel at home, for he was the +other day providently sent back so weary that he has most likely kept +his bed since." He laughed again. "He will have a story to tell! Well +then, for the present, good night! We meet again speedily!" + +I had rung the bell repeatedly; light appeared; Bendel demanded from +within who rung. When the good man recognized my voice, he could +scarcely restrain his joy. The door flew open and we stood weeping in +each other's arms. I found him greatly changed, weak and ill; but for +me--my hair had become quite gray! + +He conducted me through the desolated rooms to an inner apartment +which had been spared. He brought food and wine, and we seated +ourselves, and he again began to weep. He related to me that he the +other day had cudgeled the gray-clad man whom he had encountered with +my shadow, so long and so far that he had lost all trace of me and had +sunk to the earth in utter fatigue; that after this, as he could not +find me, he returned home, whither presently the mob, at Rascal's +instigation, came rushing in fury, dashed in the windows, and +gave full play to their lust of demolition. Thus did they to their +benefactor. The servants had fled various ways. The police had ordered +me, as a suspicious person, to quit the city, and had allowed only +four-and-twenty hours in which to evacuate their jurisdiction. To that +which I already knew of Rascal's affluence and marriage, he had yet +much to add. This scoundrel, from whom all had proceeded that had been +done against me, must, from the beginning, have been in possession of +my secret. It appeared that, attracted by gold, he had contrived to +thrust himself upon me, and at the very first had procured a key to +the gold cupboard, where he had laid the foundation of that fortune +whose augmentation he could now afford to despise. + +All this Bendel narrated to me with abundant tears, and then wept for +joy that he again beheld me, again had me; and that after he had long +doubted whither this misfortune might have led me, he saw me bear it +so calmly and collectedly; for such an aspect had despair now assumed +in me. My misery stood before me in its enormity and unchangeableness. +I had wept my last tear; not another cry could be extorted from my +heart; I presented to my fate my bare head with chill indifference. + +"Bendel," I said, "thou knowest my lot. Not without earlier blame has +my heavy punishment befallen me. Thou, innocent man, shalt no longer +bind thy destiny to mine. I do not desire it. I leave this very night; +saddle me a horse; I ride alone; thou remainest; it is my will. Here +still must remain some chests of gold; that retain thou; but I will +alone wander unsteadily through the world. But if ever a happier hour +should smile upon me, and fortune look on me with reconciled eyes, +then will I remember thee, for I have wept upon thy firmly faithful +bosom in heavy and agonizing hours." + +With a broken heart was this honest man compelled to obey this last +command of his master, at which his soul shrunk with terror. I was +deaf to his prayers, to his representations; blind to his tears. He +brought me out my steed. Once more I pressed the weeping man to my +bosom, sprang into the saddle, and under the shroud of night hastened +from the grave of my existence, regardless which way my horse +conducted me, since I had longer on earth no aim, no wish, no hope. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +A pedestrian soon joined me, who begged, after he had walked for some +time by the side of my horse, that, as we went the same way, he might +be allowed to lay a cloak which he carried, on the steed behind me. +I permitted it in silence. He thanked me with easy politeness for the +trifling service; praised my horse; and thence took occasion to extol +the happiness and power of the rich, and let himself, I know not how, +fall into a kind of monologue, in which he had me now merely for a +listener. + +He unfolded his views of life and of the world, and came very soon +upon metaphysics, whose task is to discover the Word that should solve +all riddles. He stated his thesis with great clearness and proceeded +onward to the proofs. + +Thou knowest, my friend, that I have clearly discovered, since I have +run through the schools of the philosophers, that I have by no means a +turn for philosophical speculations, and that I have totally +renounced for myself this field. Since then I have left many things +to themselves; abandoned the desire to know and to comprehend many +things; and as thou thyself advised me, have, trusting to my common +sense, followed as far as I was able the voice within me in my own +way. Now this rhetorician seemed to me to raise with great talent +a firmly constructed fabric, which was at once self-based and +self-supported, and stood as by an innate necessity. I missed in it +completely, however, what most of all I was desirous to find, and so +it became for me merely a work of art, whose elegant compactness and +completeness served to charm the eye only; nevertheless I listened +willingly to the eloquent man who drew my attention from my grief to +him; and I would have gladly yielded myself wholly up to him, had he +captivated my heart as much as my understanding. + +Meanwhile the time had passed, and unobserved the dawn had already +enlightened the heaven. I was horrified as I looked up suddenly, and +saw the glory of colors unfold itself in the east, which announced +the approach of the sun; while at this hour in which the shadows +ostentatiously display themselves in their greatest extent, there was +no protection from it; no refuge in the open country to be descried. +And I was not alone! I cast a glance at my companion, and was again +terror-stricken. It was no other than the man in the gray coat! + +He smiled at my alarm, and went on without allowing me a single word. +"Let, however, as is the way of the world, our mutual advantage for +awhile unite us. It is all in good time for separating. The road here +along the mountain-range, though you have not yet thought of it, is, +nevertheless, the only one into which you could logically have struck. +Down into the valley you cannot venture; and still less will you +desire to return again over the heights whence you came; and this +also happens to be my way. I see that you already turn pale before +the rising sun. I will, for the time we keep company, lend you your +shadow, and you, in exchange, tolerate me in your society. You have +no longer your Bendel with you, I will do you good service. You do not +like me, and I am sorry for it; but, notwithstanding, you can make use +of me. The devil is not so black as he is painted. Yesterday you +vexed me, it is true; I will not upbraid you with it today; and I have +already shortened the way hither for you; that you must admit. Only +just take your shadow again awhile on trial." + +The sun had ascended; people appeared on the road; I accepted, though +with internal repugnance, the proposal. Smiling he let my shadow glide +to the ground, which immediately took its place on that of the horse, +and trotted gaily by my side. I was in the strangest state of mind. +I rode past a group of country-people, who made way for a man of +consequence, reverently, and with bared heads. I rode on, and gazed +with greedy eyes and a palpitating; heart on this my quondam shadow +which I had now borrowed from a stranger, yes, from an enemy. + +The man went carelessly near me, and even whistled a tune--he on foot, +I on horseback; a dizziness seized me; the temptation was too great; +I suddenly turned the reins, clapped spurs to the horse, and struck at +full speed into a side-path. But I carried not off the shadow, which +at the turning glided from the horse and awaited its lawful possessor +on the high road. I was compelled with shame to turn back. The man in +the gray coat, when he had calmly finished his tune, laughed at me, +set the shadow right again for me and informed me that it would +hang fast and remain with me only when I was disposed to become the +rightful proprietor. "I hold you," continued he, "fast by the shadow, +and you cannot escape me. A rich man, like you, needs a shadow; +it cannot be otherwise, and you only are to blame that you did not +perceive that sooner." + +I continued my journey on the same road; the comforts and the splendor +of life again surrounded me; I could move about free and conveniently, +since I possessed a shadow, although only a borrowed one; and I +everywhere inspired the respect which riches command. But I carried +death in my heart. My strange companion, who gave himself out as +the unworthy servant of the richest man in the world, possessed +an extraordinary professional readiness, prompt and clever beyond +comparison, the very model of a valet for a rich man, but he stirred +not from my side, perpetually debating with me and ever manifesting +his confidence that, at length, were it only to be rid of him, I +would resolve to settle the affair of the shadow. He had become as +burdensome to me as he was hateful. I was even in fear of him. He had +made me dependent on him. He held me, after he had conducted me +back into the glory of the world from which I had fled. I was almost +obliged to tolerate his eloquence, and felt that he was in the right. +A rich man must have a shadow, and, as I desired to command the rank +which he had contrived again to make necessary to me, I saw but one +issue. By this, however, I stood fast: after having sacrificed my +love, after my life had been blighted, I would never sign away my soul +to this creature, for all the shadows in the world. I knew not how it +would end. + +We sat, one day, before a cave which the strangers who frequent +these mountains are accustomed to visit. One hears there the rush +of subterranean streams roaring up from immeasurable depths, and the +stone cast in seemed, in its resounding fall, to find no bottom. He +painted to me, as he often did, with a vivid power of imagination +and in the lustrous charms of the most brilliant colors, the most +carefully finished pictures of what I might achieve in the world +by virtue of my purse, if I had but once again my shadow in my +possession. With my elbows resting on my knees, I kept my face +concealed in my hands and listened to the false one, my heart divided +between his seduction and my own strong will. I could not longer stand +such an inward conflict, and the deciding strife began. + +"You appear, sir, to forget that I have indeed allowed you, upon +certain conditions, to remain in my company, but that I have reserved +my perfect freedom." + +"If you command it, I pack up." + +He was accustomed to this menace. I was silent. He began immediately +to roll up my shadow. I turned pale, but I let it proceed. There +followed a long pause; he first broke it. + +"You cannot bear me, sir. You hate me; I know it; yet why do you +hate me? Is it because you attacked me on the highway, and sought to +deprive me by violence of my bird's nest? Or is it because you have +endeavored, in a thievish manner, to cheat me out of my property, the +shadow, which was intrusted to you entirely on your honor? I, for my +part, do not hate you in spite of all this. I find it quite natural +that you should seek to avail yourself of all your advantages, +cunning, and power. Neither do I object to your very strict principles +and to your fancy to think like honesty itself. In fact, I think not +so strictly as you; I merely act as you think. Or have I at any time +pressed my finger on your throat in order to bring to me your most +precious soul, for which I have a fancy? Have I, on account of my +bartered purse, let a servant loose on you? Have I sought to swindle +you out of it?" I had nothing to oppose to this, and he proceeded: +"Very good, sir! very good! You cannot endure me; I know that very +well, and am by no means angry with you for it. We must part, that is +clear, and, in fact, you begin to be very wearisome to me. In order, +then, to rid you of my continued, shame-inspiring presence, I counsel +you once more to purchase this thing from me." I extended to him the +purse: "At that price?"--"No!" + +I sighed deeply, and added, "Be it so, then. I insist, sir, that we +part, and that you no longer obstruct my path in a world which, it +is to be hoped, has room enough in it for us both." He smiled, and +replied: "I go, sir; but first let me instruct you how you may ring +for me when you desire to see again your most devoted servant. You +have only to shake your purse, so that the eternal gold pieces therein +jingle, and the sound will instantly attract me. Every one thinks of +his own advantage in this world. You see that I at the same time +am thoughtful of yours, since I reveal to you a new power. Oh! this +purse!--had the moths already devoured your shadow, that would still +constitute a strong bond between us. Enough, you have me in my gold. +Should you have any commands, even when far off, for your servant, you +know that I can show myself very active in the service of my friends, +and the rich stand particularly well with me. You have seen it +yourself. Only your shadow, sir--allow me to tell you that--never +again, except on one sole condition." + +Forms of the past time swept before my soul. I demanded hastily--"Had +you a signature from Mr. John?" He smiled. "With so good a friend it +was by no means necessary." "Where is he? By God, I wish to know it!" +He hesitatingly plunged his hand into his pocket, and, dragged thence +by the hair, appeared Thomas John's ghastly disfigured form, and the +blue death-lips moved themselves with heavy words: "_Justo judicio Dei +judicatus sum; justo judicio Dei condemnatus sum_." I shuddered with +horror, and dashing the ringing purse into the abyss, I spoke to him +the last words--"I adjure thee, horrible one, in the name of God, take +thyself hence, and never again show thyself in my sight!" + +He arose gloomily, and instantly vanished behind the masses of rock +which bounded this wild, overgrown spot. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +I sat there without shadow and without money, but a heavy weight was +taken from my bosom. I was calm. Had I not also lost my love, or had I +in that loss felt myself free from blame, I believe that I should have +been happy; but I knew not what I should do. I examined my pockets; I +found yet several gold pieces there; I counted them and laughed. I +had my horses below at the inn; I was ashamed of returning thither; I +must, at least, wait till the sun was gone down; it stood yet high in +the heavens. I laid myself down in the shade of the nearest trees, and +calmly fell asleep. + +Lovely shapes blended themselves before me in charming dance into a +pleasing dream. Mina with a flower-wreath in her hair floated by me, +and smiled kindly upon me. The noble Bendel also was crowned with +flowers, and went past with a friendly greeting. I saw many besides, +and I believe thee too, Chamisso, in the distant throng. A bright +light appeared, but no one had a shadow, and, what was stranger, it +had by no means a bad effect. Flowers and songs, love and joy, under +groves of palm! I could neither hold fast nor interpret the moving, +lightly floating, lovable forms; but I knew that I dreamed such a +dream with joy, and was careful to avoid waking. I was already awake, +but still kept my eyes closed in order to retain the fading apparition +longer before my soul. + +I finally opened my eyes; the sun stood still high in the heavens, but +in the east; I had slept through the night. I took it for a sign that +I should not return to the inn. I gave up readily as lost what I yet +possessed there, and determined to strike on foot into a branch road, +which led along the wood-grown feet of the mountains, leaving it to +fate to fulfil what it had yet in store for me. I looked not behind +me, and thought not even of applying to Bendel, whom I left rich +behind me, and which I could readily have done. I considered the +new character which I should support in the world. My dress was very +modest. I had on an old black polonaise, which I had already worn in +Berlin, and which, I know not how, had first come again into my hands +for this journey. I had also a traveling cap on my head, a pair of old +boots on my feet. I arose, and cut me on the spot a knotty stick as a +memorial, and pursued my wandering. + +I met in the wood an old peasant who, friendly, greeted me, and with +whom I entered into conversation. I inquired, like an inquisitive +traveler, first the way, then about the country and its inhabitants, +the productions of the mountains, and many such things. He answered my +questions sensibly and loquaciously. We came to the bed of a mountain +torrent, which had spread its devastations over a wide tract of the +forest. I shuddered involuntarily at the sun-bright space, and allowed +the countryman to go first; but in the midst of this dangerous +spot, he stood still, and turned to relate to me the history of this +desolation. He saw immediately my defect, and paused in the midst of +his discourse. + +"But how does that happen--the gentleman has actually no shadow!" + +"Alas! alas!" replied I, sighing, "during a long and severe illness, +my hair, nails, and shadow fell off. See, father, at my age, my hair, +which is renewed again, is quite white, the nails very short, and the +shadow--that will not grow again." + +"Ay! ay!" responded the old man, shaking his head--"no shadow, that +is bad! That was a bad illness that the gentleman had." But he did +not continue his narrative, and at the next cross-way which presented +itself left me without saying a word. Bitter tears trembled anew upon +my cheeks, and my cheerfulness was gone. + +I pursued my way with a sorrowful heart, and sought no further the +society of men. I kept myself in the darkest wood, and was many a time +compelled, in order to pass over a space where the sun shone, to wait +for whole hours, lest some human eye should forbid me the transit. In +the evening I sought shelter in the villages. I went particularly in +quest of a mine in the mountains where I hoped to get work under the +earth; since, besides that my present situation made it imperative +that I should provide for my support, I had discovered that the most +active labor alone could protect me from my own annihilating thoughts. + +A few rainy days advanced me well on the way, but at the expense of +my boots, whose soles had been calculated for Count Peter, and not for +the pedestrian laborer. I was already barefoot and had to procure a +pair of new boots. The next morning I transacted this business with +much gravity in a village where a wake was being held, and where in +a booth old and new boots were sold. I selected and bargained long. I +was forced to deny myself a new pair, which I would gladly have had, +for the extravagant price frightened me. I therefore contented myself +with an old pair, which were yet good and strong, and which the +handsome, blond-haired boy who kept the stall, for present cash +payment handed to me with a friendly smile and wished me good luck on +my journey. I put them on at once, and left the place by the northern +gate. + +I was deeply absorbed in my thoughts and scarcely saw where I set +my feet, for I was pondering on the mine which I hoped to reach by +evening, and where I hardly knew how I should introduce myself. I had +not advanced two hundred strides when I observed that I had gone out +of the way. I therefore looked round me, and found myself in a wild +and ancient forest, where the axe appeared never to have been wielded. +I still pressed forward a few steps, and beheld myself in the midst +of desert rocks which were overgrown only with moss and lichens, and +between which lay fields of snow and ice. The air was intensely cold; +I looked round--the wood had vanished behind me. I took a few strides +more--and around me reigned the silence of death; the ice whereon I +stood boundlessly extended itself, and on it rested a thick, heavy +fog. The sun stood blood-red on the edge of the horizon. The cold was +insupportable. + +I knew not what had happened to me. The benumbing frost compelled me +to hasten my steps; I heard only the roar of distant waters; a step, +and I was on the icy margin of an ocean. Innumerable herds of seals +plunged rushing before me in the flood. I pursued this shore; I saw +naked rocks, land, birch and pine forests; I now advanced for a few +minutes right onward. It became stifling hot. I looked around--I +stood amongst beautifully cultivated rice-fields, and beneath +mulberry-trees. I seated myself in their shade; I looked at my watch; +I had left the market town only a quarter of an hour before. I fancied +that I dreamed; I bit my tongue to awake myself, but I was really +awake. I closed my eyes in order to collect my thoughts. I heard +before me singular accents pronounced through the nose. I looked up. +Two Chinese, unmistakable from their Asiatic physiognomy, if indeed +I would have given no credit to their costume, addressed me in their +speech with the accustomed salutations of their country. I arose and +stepped two paces backward; I saw them no more. The landscape +was totally changed--trees and forests instead of rice-fields. I +contemplated these trees and the plants which bloomed around me, which +I recognized as the growth of southeastern Asia. I wished to approach +one of these trees--one step, and again all was changed. I marched +now like a recruit who is drilled, and strode slowly and with measured +steps. Wonderfully diversified lands, rivers, meadows, mountain +chains, steppes, deserts of sand, unrolled themselves before my +astonished eyes. There was no doubt of it--I had seven-league boots on +my feet. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +I fell in speechless adoration on my knees and shed tears of +thankfulness, for suddenly my future stood clear before my soul. For +early offense thrust out from the society of men, I was cast, for +compensation, upon Nature, which I ever loved; the earth was given me +as a rich garden, study for the object and strength of my life, and +science for its goal. It was no resolution which I adopted. I only +have since, with severe, unremitted diligence, striven faithfully +to represent what then stood clear and perfect before my eye, and my +satisfaction has depended on the agreement of the representation with +the original. + +I roused myself in order, without delay, and with a hasty survey, to +take possession of the field where I should hereafter reap. I stood on +the heights of Tibet, and the sun, which had risen upon me only a few +hours before, now already stooped to the evening sky. I wandered over +Asia from east to west, overtaking him in his course, and entered +Africa. I gazed about me with eager curiosity, as I repeatedly +traversed it in all directions. As I surveyed the ancient pyramids +and temples in passing through Egypt, I descried in the desert not far +from hundred-gated Thebes, the caves where the Christian anchorites +once dwelt. It was suddenly firm and clear in me--here is thy home! +I selected one of the most concealed which was at the same time +spacious, convenient, and inaccessible to the jackals, for my future +abode, and again went forward. + +I passed, at the pillars of Hercules, over to Europe, and when I +reviewed the southern and northern provinces, I crossed from northern +Asia over the polar glaciers to Greenland and America, traversed both +parts of that continent, and the winter which already reigned in the +south drove me speedily back northward from Cape Horn. + +I tarried awhile till it was day in eastern Asia, and, after some +repose, continued my wandering. I traced through both Americas the +mountain chain which constitutes the highest known acclivities on our +globe. I stalked slowly and cautiously from summit to summit, now +over flaming volcanoes, now snow-crowned peaks, often breathing +with difficulty, when, reaching Mount Saint Elias, I sprang across +Behring's Straits to Asia. I followed the western shores in their +manifold windings, and examined with especial care to ascertain which +of the islands were accessible to me. From the peninsula of Malacca my +boots carried me to Sumatra, Java, Bali and Lamboc. I attempted often +with danger, and always in vain, a northwest passage over the lesser +islet and rocks with which this sea is studded, to Borneo and the +other islands of this Archipelago. I was compelled to abandon the +hope. At length I seated myself on the extreme portion of Lamboc, and +gazing toward the south and east, wept, as at the fast closed bars +of my prison, that I had so soon discovered my limits. New Holland so +extraordinary and so essentially necessary to the comprehension of the +earth and its sun-woven garment, the vegetable and the animal world, +with the South Sea and its Zoophyte islands, was interdicted to me, +and thus, at the very outset, all that I should gather and build up +was destined to remain a mere fragment! Oh, my Adelbert, what, after +all, are the endeavors of men! + +Often did I in the severest winter of the southern hemisphere, +endeavor, passing the polar glaciers westward, to leave behind me +those two hundred strides out from Cape Horn, which sundered me +probably from Van Diemen's Land and New Holland, regardless of my +return or whether this dismal region should close upon me as my +coffin-lid--making desperate leaps from ice-drift to ice-drift, and +bidding defiance to the cold and the sea. In vain! I never reached New +Holland, but, every time, I came back to Lamboc, seated myself on its +farthest peak, and wept again, with my face turned toward the south +and east, as at the fast closed bars of my prison. + +I tore myself at length from this spot, and returned with a sorrowful +heart into inner Asia. I traversed that farther, pursuing the morning +dawn westward, and came, yet in the night, to my proposed home in the +Thebais, which I had touched upon in the afternoon of the day before. + +As soon as I was somewhat rested, and when it was day again in Europe, +I made it my first care to procure everything which I wanted. First of +all, stop-shoes; for I had experienced how inconvenient it was when +I wished to examine near objects, not to be able to slacken my stride +except by pulling off my boots. A pair of slippers drawn over them had +completely the effect which I anticipated, and later I always carried +two pairs, since I sometimes threw them from my feet, without having +time to pick them up again, when lions, men, or hyenas startled +me from my botanizing. My very excellent watch was, for the short +duration of my passage, a capital chronometer. Besides this I needed a +sextant, some scientific instruments, and books. + +To procure all this, I made several anxious journeys to London and +Paris, which, auspiciously for me, a mist just then overshadowed. +As the remains of my enchanted gold was now exhausted, I easily +accomplished the payment by gathering African ivory, in which, +however, I was obliged to select only the smallest tusks, as not too +heavy for me. I was soon furnished and equipped with all these, and +commenced immediately, as private philosopher, my new course of life. + +I roamed about the earth, now determining the altitudes of mountains; +now the temperature of its springs and the air; now contemplating the +animal, now inquiring into the vegetable tribes. I hastened from the +equator to the pole, from one world to the other, comparing facts with +facts. The eggs of the African ostrich or the northern sea-fowl, and +fruits, especially of the tropical palms and bananas, were even +my ordinary food. In lieu of happiness I had tobacco, and of human +society and the ties of love, one faithful poodle, which guarded my +cave in the Thebais, and, when I returned home with fresh treasures, +sprang joyfully toward me and gave me still a human feeling that I was +not alone on the earth. An adventure was yet destined to conduct me +back amongst mankind. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +As I once scotched my boots on the shores of the north and gathered +lichens and sea-weed, an ice-bear came unawares upon me round the +corner of a rock. Flinging off my slippers, I would step over to an +opposite island, to which a naked crag which protruded midway from +the waves offered me a passage. I stepped with one foot firmly on +the rock, and plunged over on the other side into the sea, one of my +slippers having unobserved remained fast on the foot. + +The excessive cold seized on me; I with difficulty rescued my life +from this danger; and the moment I reached land, I ran with the utmost +speed to the Lybyan desert in order to dry myself in the sun, but, +as I was here exposed, it burned me so furiously on the head that I +staggered back again very ill toward the north. I sought to relieve +myself by rapid motion, and ran with swift, uncertain steps, from west +to east, from east to west. I found myself now in the day, now in the +night; now in summer, now in the winter's cold. + +I know not how long I thus reeled about on the earth. A burning fever +glowed in my veins; with deepest distress I felt my senses forsaking +me. As mischief would have it, in my incautious career, I now trod on +some one's foot; I must have hurt him; I received a heavy blow, and +fell to the ground. + +When I again returned to consciousness, I lay comfortably in a good +bed, which stood amongst many other beds in a handsome hall. Some one +sat at my head; people went through the hall from one bed to another. +They came to mine, and spoke together about me. They styled me _Number +Twelve_; and on the wall at my feet stood--yes, certainly it was no +delusion, I could distinctly read on a black tablet of marble in great +golden letters, quite correctly written, my name-- + + PETER SCHLEMIHL. + +On the tablet beneath my name were two other rows of letters, but I +was too weak to put them together. I again closed my eyes. + +I heard something of which the subject was Peter Schlemihl read aloud, +and articulately, but I could not collect the sense. I saw a friendly +man, and a very lovely woman in black dress appear at my bedside. The +forms were not strange to me, and yet I could not recognize them. + +Some time went on, and I recovered my strength. I was called _Number +Twelve_; and _Number Twelve_, on account of his long beard, passed for +a Jew, on which account, however, he was not at all the less carefully +treated. That he had no shadow appeared to have been unobserved. My +boots, as I was assured, were, with all that I had brought hither, in +good keeping, in order to be restored to me on my recovery. The place +in which I lay was called the SCHLEMIHLIUM. What was daily read aloud +concerning Peter Schlemihl was an exhortation to pray for him as the +Founder and Benefactor of this institution. The friendly man whom I +had seen by my bed was Bendel; the lovely woman was Mina. + +I recovered unrecognized in the Schlemihlium; and learned yet further +that I was in Bendel's native city, where, with the remains of my +otherwise unblessed gold, he had in my name founded this +Hospital, where the unhappy blessed me, and himself maintained its +superintendence. Mina was a widow. An unhappy criminal process had +cost Mr. Rascal his life, and her the greater part of her property. +Her parents were no more. She lived here as a pious widow, and +practised works of mercy. + +Once she conversed with Mr. Bendel at the bedside of _Number Twelve_. +"Why, noble lady, will you so often expose yourself to the bad +atmosphere which prevails here? Does fate then deal so hardly with you +that you wish to die?" + +"No, Mr. Bendel, since I have dreamed out my long dream, and have +awoke in myself, all is well with me; since then I crave not, and fear +not, death. Since then, I reflect calmly on the past and the future. +Is it not also with a still inward happiness that you now, in so +devout a manner, serve your master and friend?" + +"Thank God, yes, noble lady. But we have seen wonderful things; we +have unwarily drunk much good, and bitter woes, out of the full cup. +Now it is empty, and we may believe that the whole has been only a +trial, and, armed with wise discernment, awaits the real beginning. +The real beginning is of another fashion; and we wish not back the +first jugglery, and are on the whole glad, such as it was, to have +lived through it. I feel also within me a confidence that it must now +be better than formerly with our old friend." + +"Within me too," replied the lovely widow, and then passed on. + +The conversation left a deep impression upon me, but I was undecided +in myself whether I should make myself known or depart hence +unrecognized. I took my resolve. I requested paper and pencil, and +wrote these words--"It is indeed better with your old friend now than +formerly, and if he does penance it is the penance of reconciliation." + +Hereupon I desired to dress myself, as I found myself stronger. The +key of the small wardrobe which stood near my bed was brought, and I +found therein all that belonged to me. I put on my clothes, suspended +my botanical case, in which I rejoiced still to find my northern +lichens, round my black polonaise, drew on my boots, laid the written +paper on my bed, and, as the door opened, I was already far on the way +to the Thebais. + +As I took the way along the Syrian coast, on which I for the last time +had wandered from home, I perceived my poor Figaro coming toward me. +This excellent poodle, which had long expected his master at home, +seemed to desire to trace him out. I stood still and called to him. +He sprang barking toward me, with a thousand moving assurances of his +inmost and most extravagant joy. I took him up under my arm, for in +truth he could not follow me, and brought him with me home again. + +I found all in its old order, and returned gradually, as my strength +was recruited, to my former employment and mode of life, except that +I kept myself for a whole year out of the, to me, wholly insupportable +polar cold. And thus, my dear Chamisso, I live to this day. My boots +are no worse for the wear, as that very learned work of the celebrated +Tieckius, _De Rebus Gestis Pollicilli_, at first led me to fear. Their +force remains unimpaired, my strength only decays; yet I have the +comfort to have exerted it in a continuous and not fruitless pursuit +of one object. I have, so far as my boots could carry me, become more +fundamentally acquainted than any man before me with the earth, +its shape, its elevations, its temperatures, the changes of its +atmosphere, the exhibitions of its magnetic power, and the life upon +it, especially in the vegetable world. The facts I have recorded with +the greatest possible exactness and in perspicuous order in several +works, and stated my deductions and views briefly in several +treatises. I have settled the geography of the interior of Africa, +and of the northern polar regions; of the interior of Asia, and its +eastern shores. My _Historia Stirpium Plantarum Utriusque Orbis_ +stands as a grand fragment of the _Flora Universalis Terrae_, and as +a branch of my _Systema Naturae_. I believe that I have therein not +merely augmented, at a moderate calculation, the amount of known +species, more than one-third, but have done something for the _Natural +System_, and for the _Geography of Plants_. I shall labor diligently +at my _Fauna_. I shall take care that, before my death, my works shall +be deposited in the Berlin University. + +And thee, my dear Chamisso, have I selected as the preserver of my +singular history, which, perhaps, when I have vanished from the earth, +may afford valuable instruction to many of its inhabitants. But thou, +my friend, if thou wilt live among men, learn before all things to +reverence the shadow, and then the gold. Wishest thou to live only for +thyself and for thy better self--oh, then!--thou needest no counsel. + + + + +ERNST THEODOR AMADEUS HOFFMANN + + * * * * * + +THE GOLDEN POT[44] (1814) + +TRANSLATED BY FREDERIC H. HEDGE + +FIRST VIGIL + + The mishaps of the student Anselmus. Conrector Paulmann's sanitary + canaster and the gold-green snakes. + + +On Ascension-day, at three o'clock in the afternoon, a young man in +Dresden came running through the Black Gate, falling right into a +basket of apples and cakes, which an old and very ugly woman was +there exposing to sale. All that escaped being smashed to pieces was +scattered away, and the street-urchins joyfully divided the booty +which this quick gentleman had thrown in the way. At the murder-shriek +which the crone set up, her gossips, leaving their cake and +brandy-tables, encircled the young man, and with plebeian violence +stormfully scolded him, so that, for shame and vexation, he uttered +no word, but merely held out his small and by no means particularly +well-filled purse, which the crone eagerly clutched and stuck into her +pocket. The firm ring now opened; but as the young man started off, +the crone called after him: "Ay, run, run thy ways, thou Devil's bird! +To the crystal run--to the crystal!" The squealing, creaking voice +of the woman had something unearthly in it, so that the promenaders +paused in amazement, and the laugh, which at first had been universal, +instantly died away. The student Anselmus, for the young man was no +other, felt himself, though he did not in the least understand these +singular phrases, nevertheless seized with a certain involuntary +horror; and he quickened his steps still more, to escape the curious +looks of the multitude, which were all turned toward him. As he +worked his way through the crowd of well-dressed people, he heard them +murmuring on all sides: "Poor young fellow! Ha! what a cursed bedlam +it is!" The mysterious words of the crone had, oddly enough, given +this ludicrous adventure a sort of tragic turn; and the youth, before +unobserved, was now looked after with a certain sympathy. The ladies, +for his fine shape and handsome face, which the glow of inward anger +was rendering still more expressive, forgave him this awkward step, as +well as the dress he wore, though it was utterly at variance with all +mode. His pike-gray frock was shaped as if the tailor had known the +modern form only by hearsay; and his well-kept black satin lower +habiliments gave the whole a certain pedagogic air, to which the gait +and gesture of the wearer did not at all correspond. + +The student had almost reached the end of the alley which leads out to +the Linke Bath; but his breath could stand such a rate no longer. From +running, he took to walking; but scarcely did he yet dare to lift an +eye from the ground; for he still saw apples and cakes dancing round +him, and every kind look from this or that fair damsel was to him but +the reflex of the mocking laughter at the Black Gate. In this mood, he +had got to the entrance of the bath; one group of holiday people after +the other were moving in. Music of wind-instruments resounded from the +place, and the din of merry guests was growing louder and louder. The +poor student Anselmus was almost on the point of weeping; for he too +had expected, Ascension-day having always been a family-festival with +him, to participate in the felicities of the Linkean paradise; nay, he +had purposed even to go the length of a half "portion" of coffee with +rum, and a whole bottle of double beer, and, that he might carouse +at his ease, had put more money in his purse than was properly +permissible and feasible. And now, by this fatal step into the +apple-basket, all that he had about him had been swept away. Of +coffee, of double beer, of music, of looking at the bright damsels--in +a word, of all his fancied enjoyments, there was now nothing more to +be said. He glided slowly past, and at last turned down the Elbe road, +which at that time happened to be quite solitary. + +[Illustration: Permission Berlin Photo Co., New York. HENSEL +ERNST THEODOR AMADEUS HOFFMANN] + +Beneath an elder-tree, which had grown out through the wall, he found +a kind green resting-place; here he sat down, and filled a pipe from +the _Sanitätsknaster_ or Health-tobacco, of which his friend the +Conrector Paulmann had lately made him a present. Close before him +rolled and chafed the gold-dyed waves of the fair Elbe-stream; behind +him rose lordly Dresden, stretching, bold and proud, its light towers +into the airy sky; which again, farther off, bent itself down toward +flowery meads and fresh springing woods; and in the dim distance, a +range of azure peaks gave notice of remote Bohemia. But, heedless of +this, the student Anselmus, looking gloomily before him, blew forth +his smoky clouds into the air. His chagrin at length became audible, +and he said: "Of a truth, I am born to losses and crosses for my life +long! That in boyhood I never could become the King on Twelfthnight, +that at Odds or Evens I could never once guess the right way, that +my bread and butter always fell on the buttered side--of all these +sorrows I will not speak; but is it not a frightful destiny, that now, +when, in spite of Satan, I have become a student, I must still be a +jolthead as before? Do I ever put a new coat on, without the first day +smearing it with tallow, or on some ill-fastened nail or other tearing +a cursed hole in it? Do I ever bow to any Councilor or any lady, +without pitching the hat out of my hands, or even slipping on the +pavement, and shamefully going heels-over-head? Had I not, every +market-day, while in Halle, a regular sum of from three to four +groschen to pay for broken pottery, the Devil putting it into my head +to walk straight forward, like a leming-rat? Have I ever once got to +my college, or any place I was appointed to, at the right time? What +availed it that I set out half an hour before, and planted myself at +the door, with the knocker in my hand? Just as the clock is going to +strike, souse! some Devil pours a wash-basin down on me, or I bolt +against some fellow coming out, and get myself engaged in endless +quarrels till the time is clean gone. + +"Ah! well-a-day! whither are ye fled, ye blissful dreams of coming +fortune, when I proudly thought that here I might even reach the +height of Privy Secretary? And has not my evil star estranged from me +my best patrons? I learn, for instance, that the Councilor, to whom I +have a letter, cannot suffer cropped hair; with immensity of trouble, +the barber fastens me a little cue to my hindhead; but at the first +bow his unblessed knot gives way, and a little shock-dog, running +snuffling about me, frisks off to the Privy Councilor with the cue in +his mouth. I spring after it in terror, and stumble against the +table, where he has been working while at breakfast; and cups, plates, +ink-glass, sand-box, rush jingling to the floor, and a flood of +chocolate and ink overflows the "Relation" he has just been writing. +'Is the Devil in the man?' bellows the furious Privy Councilor, and +shoves me out of the room. + +"What avails it that Corrector Paulmann gave me hopes of a writership: +will my malignant fate allow it, which everywhere pursues me? +Today even! Do but think of it! I was purposing to hold my good old +Ascension-day with right cheerfulness of soul; I would stretch a point +for once; I might have gone, as well as any other guest, into Linke's +Bath, and called out proudly: 'Marqueur! a bottle of double beer; best +sort, if you please!' I might have sat till far in the evening, and, +moreover, close by this or that fine party of well-dressed ladies. I +know it, I feel it! heart would have come into me and I should have +been quite another man; nay, I might have carried it so far that when +one or other of them asked, `What o'clock may it be?' or 'What is +it they are playing?' I should have started up with light grace, and +without overturning my glass or stumbling over the bench, but in a +curved posture, moving one step and a half forward, I should have +answered: 'Give me leave, Mademoiselle! it is the overture of the +_Donauweibchen_;' or, 'It is just going to strike six.' Could any +mortal in the world have taken it ill of me? No! I say; the girls +would have looked over, smiling so roguishly, as they always do when +I pluck up heart to show them that I too understand the light tone of +society, and know how ladies should be spoken to. But here--the Devil +leads me into that cursed apple-basket, and now must I sit moping +in solitude, with nothing but a poor pipe of----" Here the student +Anselmus was interrupted in his soliloquy by a strange rustling and +whisking, which rose close by him in the grass, but soon glided up +into the twigs and leaves of the elder-tree that stretched out over +his head. It was as if the evening wind were shaking the leaves; as if +little birds were twittering among the branches, moving their little +wings in capricious flutter to and fro. Then he heard a whispering and +lisping; and it seemed as if the blossoms were sounding like +little crystal bells. Anselmus listened and listened. Ere long, the +whispering, and lisping, and tinkling, he himself knew not how, grew +to faint and half-scattered words: + +"'Twixt this way, 'twixt that; 'twixt branches, 'twixt blossoms, come +shoot, come twist and twirl we! Sisterkin, sisterkin! up to the shine; +up, down, through and through, quick! Sun-rays yellow; evening-wind +whispering; dew-drops pattering; blossoms all singing: sing we with +branches and blossoms! Stars soon glitter; must down: 'twixt this way, +'twixt that, come shoot, come twist, come twirl we, sisterkin!" + +And so it went along, in confused and confusing speech. The student +Anselmus thought: "Well, it is but the evening-wind, which tonight +truly is whispering distinctly enough." But at that moment there +sounded over his head, as it were, a triple harmony of clear crystal +bells: he looked up, and perceived three little snakes, glittering +with green and gold, twisted round the branches, and stretching out +their heads to the evening sun. Then, again, began a whispering and +twittering in the same words as before, and the little snakes went +gliding and caressing up and down through the twigs; and while they +moved so rapidly, it was as if the elder-bush were scattering a +thousand glittering emeralds through the dark leaves. + +"It is the evening sun which sports so in the elder-bush," thought the +student Anselmus; but the bells sounded again, and Anselmus observed +that one Snake held out its little head to him. Through all his limbs +there went a shock like electricity; he quivered in his inmost heart; +he kept gazing up, and a pair of glorious dark-blue eyes were looking +at him with unspeakable longing; and an unknown feeling of highest +blessedness and deepest sorrow was like to rend his heart asunder. +And as he looked, and still looked, full of warm desire, into these +charming eyes, the crystal bells sounded louder in harmonious accord, +and the glittering emeralds fell down and encircled him, flickering +round him in thousand sparkles, and sporting in resplendent threads +of gold. The Elder-bush moved and spoke: "Thou layest in my shadow; my +perfume flowed round thee, but thou understoodst me not. The perfume +is my speech, when Love kindles it." The Evening-Wind came gliding +past, and said: "I played round thy temples, but thou understoodst me +not. Breath is my speech, when Love kindles it." The sunbeams broke +through the clouds, and the sheen of it burnt, as in words: "I +overflowed thee with glowing gold, but thou understoodst me not. Glow +is my speech, when Love kindles it." + +And, still deeper and deeper sunk in the view of these glorious eyes, +his longing grew keener, his desire more warm. And all rose and moved +around him, as if awakening to joyous life. Flowers and blossoms shed +their odors round him; and their odor was like the lordly singing of +a thousand softest voices; and what they sung was borne, like an +echo, on the golden evening clouds, as they flitted away, into far-off +lands. But as the last sunbeam abruptly sank behind the hills, and +the twilight threw its veil over the scene, there came a hoarse deep +voice, as from a great distance: + +"Hey! hey! what chattering and jingling is that up there? Hey! hey! +who catches me the ray behind the hills? Sunned enough, sung enough. +Hey! hey! through bush and grass, through grass and stream! Hey! hey! +Come dow-w-n, dow-w-w-n!" + +So faded the voice away, as in murmurs of a distant thunder; but the +crystal bells broke off in sharp discords. All became mute; and +the student Anselmus observed how the three snakes, glittering and +sparkling, glided through the grass toward the river; rustling and +hustling, they rushed into the Elbe; and over the waves where they +vanished, there crackled up a green flame, which, gleaming forward +obliquely, vanished in the direction of the city. + + + + +SECOND VIGIL + + How the student Anselmus was looked upon as drunk and mad. The + crossing of the Elbe. Bandmaster Graun's Bravura. Conradi's + Stomachic Liqueur, and the bronzed Apple-Woman. + + +"The gentleman seems not to be in his right wits!" said a respectable +burgher's wife, who, returning from a walk with her family, had paused +here, and, with crossed arms, was looking at the mad pranks of the +student Anselmus. Anselmus had clasped the trunk of the elder-tree, +and was calling incessantly up to the branches and leaves: "O glitter +and shine once more, ye dear gold snakes; let me hear your little +bell-voices once more! Look on me once more, ye kind eyes; O once, or +I must die in pain and ardent longing!" And with this, he was sighing +and sobbing from the bottom of his heart most pitifully, and, in his +eagerness and impatience, shaking the elder-tree to and fro; which, +however, instead of any reply, rustled quite gloomily and inaudibly +with its leaves, and so rather seemed, as it were, to make sport of +the student Anselmus and his sorrows. + +"The gentleman seemingly is not in his right wits!" said the burgher's +wife; and Anselmus felt as if you had shaken him out of a deep dream, +or poured ice-cold water on him, that he might awaken without loss +of time. He now first saw clearly where he was and recollected what a +strange apparition had teased him, nay, so beguiled his senses as to +make him break forth into loud talk with himself. In astonishment, +he gazed at the woman; and at last, snatching up his hat, which had +fallen to the ground in his transport, was for making off in all +speed. The burgher himself had come forward in the meanwhile; and, +setting down the child from his arm on the grass, had been leaning on +his staff, and with amazement listening and looking at the student. +He now picked up the pipe and tobacco-pouch which the student had let +fall, and, holding them out to him, said: "Don't take on so dreadfully +in the dark, my worthy sir, or alarm people, when nothing is the +matter, after all, but having taken a sip too much; go home, like a +pretty man, and take a nap of sleep on it." + +The student Anselmus felt exceedingly ashamed; he uttered nothing but +a most lamentable Ah! + +"Pooh! Pooh!" said the burgher, "never mind it a jot; such a thing +will happen to the best; on good old Ascension-day a man may readily +enough forget himself in his joy, and gulp down a thought too much. +A clergyman himself is no worse for it: I presume, my worthy sir, you +are a _Candidatus_.--But, with your leave, sir, I shall fill my pipe +with your tobacco; mine went out a little while ago." + +This last sentence the burgher uttered while the student Anselmus was +about putting up his pipe and pouch; and now the burgher slowly and +deliberately cleaned his pipe, and began as slowly to fill it. Several +burgher girls had come up; they were speaking secretly with the woman +and one another, and tittering as they looked at Anselmus. The student +felt as if he were standing on prickly thorns and burning needles. No +sooner had he recovered his pipe and tobacco-pouch, than he darted off +at the height of his speed. + +All the strange things he had seen were clean gone from his memory; he +simply recollected having babbled all manner of foolish stuff beneath +the elder-tree. This was the more shocking to him, as he entertained +from of old an inward horror against all soliloquists. It is Satan +that chatters out of them, said his Rector; and Anselmus shared +honestly his belief. To be regarded as a _Candidatus Theologiae_, +overtaken with drink on Ascension-day! The thought was intolerable. + +He was just about turning up the Poplar Alley, by the Kosel Garden, +when a voice behind him called out: "Herr Anselmus! Herr Anselmus! +for the love of Heaven, whither are you running in such haste?" The +student paused, as if rooted to the ground; for he was convinced that +now some new mischance would befall him. The voice rose again: "Herr +Anselmus, come back, then; we are waiting for you here at the water!" +And now the student perceived that it was his friend Conrector +Paulmann's voice; he went back to the Elbe, and found the Conrector, +with his two daughters, as well as Registrator Heerbrand, all on the +point of stepping into their gondola. Conrector Paulmann invited the +student to go with them across the Elbe, and then to pass the evening +at his house in the Pirna suburb. The student Anselmus very gladly +accepted this proposal, thinking thereby to escape the malignant +destiny which had ruled over him all day. + +Now, as they were crossing the river, it chanced that, on the farther +bank, near the Anton Garden, fireworks were just going off. Sputtering +and hissing, the rockets went aloft, and their blazing stars flew +to pieces in the air, scattering a thousand vague shoots and flashes +round them. The student Anselmus was sitting by the steersman, sunk in +deep thought; but when he noticed in the water the reflection of +these darting and wavering sparks and flames, he felt as if it was the +little golden snakes that were sporting in the flood. All the strange +things he had seen at the elder-tree again started forth into his +heart and thoughts; and again that unspeakable longing, that glowing +desire, laid hold of him here, which had before agitated his bosom in +painful spasms of rapture. + +"Ah! is it you again, my little golden snakes? Sing now, O sing! In +your song let the kind, dear, dark-blue eyes again appear to me.--Ah? +are ye under the waves, then?" + +So cried the student Anselmus, and at the same time made a violent +movement, as if he were for plunging from the gondola into the river. + +"Is the Devil in you, sir?" exclaimed the steersman, and clutched +him by the coat-tail. The girls, who were sitting by him, shrieked +in terror, and fled to the other side of the gondola. Registrator +Heerbrand whispered something in Conrector Paulmann's ear, to +which the latter answered, but in so low a tone that Anselmus could +distinguish nothing but the words: "Such attacks--never noticed them +before?" Directly after this, Conrector Paulmann also rose, and then +sat down, with a certain earnest, grave, official mien, beside the +student Anselmus, taking his hand, and saying: "How are you, Herr +Anselmus?" The student Anselmus was like to lose his wits, for in his +mind there was a mad distraction, which he strove in vain to soothe. +He now saw plainly that what he had taken for the gleaming of the +golden snakes was nothing but the reflection of the fireworks in +Anton's Garden: but a feeling unexperienced till now, he himself knew +not whether it was rapture or pain, cramped his breast together; and +when the steersman struck through the water with his helm, so that the +waves, curling as in anger, gurgled and chafed, he heard in their din +a soft whispering: "Anselmus! Anselmus! seest thou not how we still +skim along before thee? Sisterkin looks at thee again; believe, +believe, believe in us!" And he thought he saw in the reflected light +three green-glowing streaks; but then, when he gazed, full of fond +sadness, into the water, to see whether these gentle eyes would not +again look up to him, he perceived too well that the shine proceeded +only from the windows in the neighboring houses. He was sitting mute +in his place, and inwardly battling with himself, when Conrector +Paulman repeated, with still greater emphasis: "How are you, Herr +Anselmus?" + +With the most rueful tone, Anselmus replied: "Ah! Herr Conrector, if +you knew what strange things I have been dreaming, quite awake, +with open eyes, just now, under an elder-tree at the wall of Linke's +garden, you would not take it amiss of me that I am a little absent, +or so." + +"Ey, ey, Herr Anselmus!" interrupted Conrector Paulmann, "I have +always taken you for a solid young man; but to dream, to dream with +your eyes wide open, and then, all at once, to start up for leaping +into the water! This, begging your pardon, is what only fools or +madmen could do." + +The student Anselmus was deeply affected at his friend's hard saying; +then Veronica, Paulmann's eldest daughter, a most pretty blooming +girl of sixteen, addressed her father: "But, dear father, something +singular must have befallen Herr Anselmus; and perhaps he only thinks +he was awake, while he may really have been asleep, and so all +manner of wild stuff has come into his head and is still lying in his +thoughts." + +"And, dearest Mademoiselle! Worthy Conrector!" interrupted Registrator +Heerbrand, "may one not, even when awake, sometimes sink into a sort +of dreaming state? I myself have had such fits. One afternoon, for +instance, during coffee, in a sort of brown study like this, in the +very moment of corporeal and spiritual digestion, the place where a +lost document was lying occurred to me, as if by inspiration; and last +night, no further gone, there came glorious large Latin WRIT tripping +out before my open eyes, in the very same way." + +"Ah! most honored Registrator," answered Conrector Paulmann, "you +have always had a tendency to the _Poetica_; and thus one falls into +fantasies and romantic humors." + +The student Anselmus, however, was particularly gratified that in this +most troublous situation, while in danger of being considered drunk or +crazy, any one should take his part; and though it was already fairly +dark, he thought he noticed, for the first time, that Veronica had +really very fine dark-blue eyes, and this too without remembering the +strange pair which he had looked at in the elder-bush. On the whole, +the adventure under the elder-bush had once more entirely vanished +from the thoughts of the student Anselmus; he felt himself at ease and +light of heart; nay, in the capriciousness of joy, he carried it so +far that he offered a helping hand to his fair advocate, Veronica, as +she was stepping from the gondola; and without more ado, as she put +her arm in his, escorted her home with so much dexterity and good luck +that he missed his footing only once, and this being the only wet spot +in the whole road, spattered Veronica's white gown only a very little +by the incident. + +Conrector Paulmann failed not to observe this happy change in +the student Anselmus; he resumed his liking for him, and begged +forgiveness for the hard words which he had let fall before. "Yes," +added he, "we have many examples to show that certain phantasms may +rise before a man and pester and plague him not a little; but this is +bodily disease, and leeches are good for it, if applied to the right +part, as a certain learned physician, now deceased, has directed." The +student Anselmus knew not whether he had been drunk, crazy, or sick; +but at all events the leeches seemed entirely superfluous, as these +supposed phantasms had utterly vanished, and the student himself was +growing happier and happier, the more he prospered in serving the +pretty Veronica with all sorts of dainty attentions. + +As usual, after the frugal meal, came music; the student Anselmus had +to take his seat before the harpsichord, and Veronica accompanied +his playing with her pure clear voice. "Dear Mademoiselle," said +Registrator Heerbrand, "you have a voice like a crystal bell!" + +"That she has not!" ejaculated the student Anselmus, he scarcely +knew how. "Crystal bells in elder-trees sound strangely, strangely!" +continued the student Anselmus, murmuring half aloud. + +Veronica laid her hand on his shoulder, and asked: "What are you +saying now, Herr Anselmus?" + +Instantly Anselmus recovered his cheerfulness, and began playing. +Conrector Paulmann gave a grim look at him; but Registrator Heerbrand +laid a music-leaf on the frame, and sang with ravishing grace one +of Bandmaster Graun's bravura airs. The student Anselmus accompanied +this, and much more; and a fantasy duet, which Veronica and he now +fingered, and Conrector Paulmann had himself composed, again brought +all into the gayest humor. + +It was now quite late, and Registrator Heerbrand was taking up his hat +and stick, when Conrector Paulmann went up to him with a mysterious +air, and said: "Hem!--Would not you, honored Registrator, mention to +the good Herr Anselmus himself--Hem! what we were speaking of before?" + +"With all the pleasure in nature," said Registrator Heerbrand; and +after all were seated in a circle, he began, without farther preamble, +as follows: + +"In this city is an old, strange, remarkable man; people say he +follows all manner of secret sciences; but as there are no such +sciences, I rather take him for an antiquary, and, along with +this, for an experimental chemist. I mean no other than our Privy +Archivarius Lindhorst. He lives, as you know, by himself, in his old +sequestered house; and when disengaged from his office he is to +be found in his library, or in his chemical laboratory, to which, +however, he admits no stranger. Besides many curious books, he +possesses a number of manuscripts, partly Arabic, Coptic, and some of +them in strange characters which belong not to any known tongue. These +he wishes to have copied properly; and for this purpose he requires +a man who can draw with the pen, and so transfer these marks to +parchment, in Indian ink, with the highest strictness and fidelity. +The work is carried on in a separate chamber of his house, under his +own oversight; and besides free board during the time of business, he +pays his man a specie-dollar, daily, and promises a handsome present +when the copying is rightly finished. The hours of work are from +twelve to six. From three to four, you take rest and dinner. + +"Herr Archivarius Lindhorst having in vain tried one or two young +people for copying these manuscripts, has at last applied to me to +find him an expert drawer; and so I have been thinking of you, +dear Herr Anselmus, for I know that you both write very neatly, and +likewise draw with the pen to great perfection. Now, if in these bad +times, and till your future establishment, you would like to earn a +speziesthaler in the day, and this present over and above, you can go +tomorrow precisely at noon, and call upon the Archivarius, whose house +no doubt you know. But be on your guard against any blot! If such a +thing falls on your copy, you must begin it again; if it falls on the +original, the Archivarius will think nothing of throwing you out of +the window, for he is a hot-tempered gentleman." + +The student Anselmus was filled with joy at Registrator Heerbrand's +proposal; for not only could the student write well and draw well +with the pen, but this copying with laborious calligraphic pains was +a thing he delighted in beyond aught else. So he thanked his patron in +the most grateful terms, and promised not to fail at noon tomorrow. + +All night the student Anselmus saw nothing but clear speziesthalers, +and heard nothing but their lovely clink. Who could blame the poor +youth, cheated of so many hopes by capricious destiny, obliged to take +counsel about every farthing, and to forego so many joys which a young +heart requires! Early in the morning he brought out his black-lead +pencils, his crow-quills, his Indian ink; for better materials, +thought he, the Archivarius can find nowhere. Above all, he mustered +and arranged his calligraphic masterpieces and his drawings, to show +them to the Archivarius, in proof of his ability to do what he wished. +All prospered with the student; a peculiar happy star seemed to be +presiding over him; his neckcloth sat right at the very first trial; +no tack burst; no loop gave way in his black silk stockings; his hat +did not once fall to the dust after he had trimmed it. In a word, +precisely at half-past eleven, the student Anselmus, in his pike-gray +frock, and black satin lower habiliments, with a roll of calligraphics +and pen-drawings in his pocket, was standing in the Schlossgasse, in +Conradi's shop, and drinking one--two glasses of the best stomachic +liqueur; for here, thought he, slapping on the still empty pocket, for +here speziesthalers will be clinking soon. + +Notwithstanding the distance of the solitary street where the +Archivarius Lindhorst's very ancient residence lay, the student +Anselmus was at the front door before the stroke of twelve. He stood +here, and was looking at the large fine bronze knocker; but now when, +as the last stroke tingled through the air with loud clang from the +steeple-clock of the Kreuzkirche, he lifted his hand to grasp this +same knocker, the metal visage twisted itself, with horrid rolling +of its blue-gleaming eyes, into a grinning smile. Alas, it was the +Apple-woman of the Black Gate! The pointed teeth gnashed together in +the loose jaws, and in their chattering through the skinny lips +there was a growl of: "Thou fool, fool, fool!--Wait, wait!--Why +didst run!--Fool!" Horror-struck, the student Anselmus flew back; +he clutched at the door-post, but his hand caught the bell-rope and +pulled it, and in piercing discords it rung stronger and stronger, and +through the whole empty house the echo repeated, as in mockery: "To +the crystal fall!" An unearthly terror seized the student Anselmus, +and quivered through all his limbs. The bell-rope lengthened downward, +and became a white, transparent, gigantic serpent, which encircled and +crushed him, and girded him straiter and straiter in its coils, till +his brittle, paralyzed limbs went crashing in pieces, and the blood +spouted from his veins, penetrating into the transparent body of the +serpent, and dyeing it red. "Kill me! Kill me!" he would have cried, +in his horrible agony; but the cry was only a stifled gurgle in his +throat. The serpent lifted its head, and laid its long peaked tongue +of glowing brass on the breast of Anselmus; then a fierce pang +suddenly cut asunder the artery of life, and thought fled away +from him. On returning to his senses, he was lying on his own poor +truckle-bed; Conrector Paulmann was standing before him, and saying: +"For Heaven's sake, what mad stuff is this, dear Herr Anselmus?" + + + + +SIXTH VIGIL + + Archivarius Lindhorst's Garden, with some Mocking birds. The Golden + Pot. English current-hand. Pot-hooks. The Prince of the Spirits. + + +"It may be, after all," said the student Anselmus to himself, "that +the superfine, strong, stomachic liqueur, which I took somewhat freely +at Monsieur Conradi's, might really be the cause of all these shocking +phantasms which so tortured me at Archivarius Lindhorst's door. +Therefore, I will go quite sober today, and so bid defiance to +whatever further mischief may assail me." On this occasion, as before, +when equipping himself for his first call on Archivarius Lindhorst, +the student Anselmus put his pen-drawings and calligraphic +masterpieces, his bars of Indian ink, and his well-pointed crow-pens, +into his pockets; and was just turning to go out, when his eye lighted +on the vial with the yellow liqueur, which he had received from +Archivarius Lindhorst. All the strange adventures he had met with +again rose on his mind in glowing colors; and a nameless emotion +of rapture and pain thrilled through his breast. Involuntarily he +exclaimed, with a most piteous voice: "Ah, am I not going to +the Archivarius solely for a sight of thee, thou gentle lovely +Serpentina!" At that moment he felt as if Serpentina's love might be +the prize of some laborious perilous task which he had to undertake, +and as if this task were no other than the copying of the Lindhorst +manuscripts. That at his very entrance into the house, or, more +properly, before his entrance, all manner of mysterious things might +happen, as of late, was no more than he anticipated. He thought no +more of Conradi's strong water, but hastily put the vial of liqueur +in his waistcoat-pocket that he might act strictly by the Archivarius' +directions, should the bronzed Apple-woman again take it upon her to +make faces at him. + +And did not the hawk-nose actually peak itself, did not the cat-eyes +actually glare from the knocker, as he raised his hand to it, at the +stroke of twelve? But now, without further ceremony, he dribbled his +liqueur into the pestilent visage; and it folded and molded itself, +that instant, down to a glittering bowl-round knocker. The door went +up; the bells sounded beautifully over all the house: "Klingling, +youngling, in, in, spring, spring, klingling." In good heart he +mounted the fine broad stair and feasted on the odors of some strange +perfumery that was floating through the house. In doubt, he paused on +the lobby; for he knew not at which of these many fine doors he was to +knock. But Archivarius Lindhorst, in a white damask nightgown, stepped +forth to him, and said: "Well, it is a real pleasure to me, Herr +Anselmus, that you have kept your word at last. Come this way, if you +please; I must take you straight into the Laboratory;" and with this +he stepped rapidly through the lobby, and opened a little side-door +which led into a long passage. Anselmus walked on in high spirits, +behind the Archivarius; they passed from this corridor into a hall, +or rather into a lordly green-house: for on both sides, up to the +ceiling, stood all manner of rare wondrous flowers, nay, great trees +with strangely-formed leaves and blossoms. A magic dazzling light +shone over the whole, though you could not discover whence it came, +for no window whatever was to be seen. As the student Anselmus looked +in through the bushes and trees, long avenues appeared to open +in remote distance. In the deep shade of thick cypress groves lay +glittering marble fountains, out of which rose wondrous figures, +spouting crystal jets that fell with pattering spray into gleaming +lily-cups; strange voices cooed and rustled through the wood of +curious trees; and sweetest perfumes streamed up and down. + +The Archivarius had vanished, and Anselmus saw nothing but a huge bush +of glowing fire-lilies before him. Intoxicated with the sight and the +fine odors of this fairy-garden, Anselmus stood fixed to the spot. +Then began on all sides of him a giggling and laughing; and light +little voices railed and mocked him: "Herr Studiosus! Herr Studiosus! +Where are you coming from? Why are you dressed so bravely, Herr +Anselmus? Will you chat with us for a minute, how grandmammy sat +squatting down upon the egg, and young master got a stain on his +Sunday waistcoat?--Can you play the new tune, now, which you learned +from Daddy Cocka-doodle, Herr Anselmus?--You look very fine in your +glass periwig, and post-paper boots." So cried and chattered and +sniggered the little voices, out of every corner, nay, close by the +student himself, who but now observed that all sorts of party-colored +birds were fluttering above him and jeering him in hearty laughter. +At that moment the bush of fire-lilies advanced toward him; and he +perceived that it was Archivarius Lindhorst, whose flowered nightgown, +glittering in red and yellow, had so far deceived his eyes. + +"I beg your pardon, worthy Herr Anselmus," said the Archivarius, "for +leaving you alone; I wished, in passing, to take a peep at my fine +cactus, which is to blossom tonight. But how like you my little +house-garden?" + +"Ah, Heaven! Immeasurably pretty it is, most valued Herr Archivarius," +replied the student; "but those party-colored birds have been +bantering me a little." + +"What wishy-washy is this?" cried the Archivarius angrily into the +bushes. Then a huge gray parrot came fluttering out, and perched +itself beside the Archivarius on a myrtle-bough; and looking at him +with an uncommon earnestness and gravity through a pair of spectacles +that stuck on his hooked bill, it shrilled out: "Don't take it amiss, +Herr Archivarius; my wild boys have been a little free or so; but the +Herr Studiosus has himself to blame in the matter, for----" + +"Hush! hush!" interrupted Archivarius Lindhorst; "I know the varlets; +but thou must keep them in better discipline, my friend!--Now, come +along, Herr Anselmus." + +And the Archivarius again stepped forth, through many a +strangely-decorated chamber; so that the student Anselmus, in +following him, could scarcely give a glance at all the glittering +wondrous furniture, and other unknown things, with which the whole of +them were filled. At last they entered a large apartment, where the +Archivarius, casting his eyes aloft, stood still; and Anselmus +got time to feast himself on the glorious sight which the simple +decoration of this hall afforded. Jutting from the azure-colored walls +rose gold-bronze trunks of high palm-trees, which wove their colossal +leaves, glittering like bright emeralds, into a ceiling far up; in the +middle of the chamber, and resting on three Egyptian lions, cast +out of dark bronze, lay a porphyry plate; and on this stood a simple +Golden Pot, from which, so soon as he beheld it, Anselmus could not +turn away an eye. It was as if, in a thousand gleaming reflections, +all sorts of shapes were sporting on the bright polished gold; often +he perceived his own form, with arms stretched out in longing--ah! +beneath the elder-bush--and Serpentina was winding and shooting up and +down, and again looking at him with her kind eyes. Anselmus was beside +himself with frantic rapture. + +"Serpentina! Serpentina!" cried he aloud; and Archivarius Lindhorst +whirled round abruptly, and said: "How now, worthy Herr Anselmus? If +I mistake not, you were pleased to call for my daughter; she is way +in the other side of the house at present, and indeed just taking her +lesson on the harpsichord. Let us go over." + +Anselmus, scarcely knowing what he did, followed his conductor; he saw +or heard nothing more, till Archivarius Lindhorst suddenly grasped his +hand, and said: "Here is the place!" Anselmus awoke as from a dream, +and now perceived that he was in a high room, all lined on every side +with book-shelves, and nowise differing from a common library and +study. In the middle stood a large writing-table, with a stuffed +arm-chair before it. "This," said Archivarius Lindhorst, "is your +work-room for the present: whether you may work, some other time, in +the blue library, also where you so suddenly called out my daughter's +name, I yet know not. But now I could wish to convince myself of your +ability to execute this task appointed to you, in the way I wish it +and need it." The student here gathered full courage; and not without +internal self-complacence in the certainty of highly gratifying +Archivarius Lindhorst through his extraordinary talents, pulled out +his drawings and specimens of penmanship from his pocket. But no +sooner had the Archivarius cast his eye on the first leaf, a piece of +writing in the finest English style, than he smiled very oddly, and +shook his head. These motions he repeated at every following leaf, so +that the student Anselmus felt the blood mounting to his face; and at +last, when the smile became quite sarcastic and contemptuous, he +broke out in downright vexation: "The Herr Archivarius does not seem +contented with my poor talents." + +"Dear Herr Anselmus," said Archivarius Lindhorst, "you have indeed +fine capacities for the art of calligraphy; but, in the meanwhile, it +is clear enough, I must reckon more on your diligence and good-will +than on your capacity." + +The student Anselmus spoke largely of his often-acknowledged +perfection in this art, of his fine Chinese ink, and most select +crow-quills. But Archivarius Lindhorst handed him the English sheet, +and said: "Be judge yourself!" Anselmus felt as if struck by a +thunderbolt, to see his handwriting look so: it was miserable, beyond +measure. There was no rounding in the turns, no hair-stroke where it +should be; no proportion between the capital and single letters; nay, +villainous school-boy pot-hooks often spoiled the best lines. "And +then," continued Archivarius Lindhorst, "your ink will not stand." He +dipped his finger in a glass of water, and as he just skimmed it over +the lines they vanished without vestige. The student Anselmus felt as +if some monster were throttling him; he could not utter a word. There +stood he with the unlucky sheet in his hand; but Archivarius Lindhorst +laughed aloud, and said: "Never mind it, dearest Herr Anselmus; what +you could not accomplish before, will perhaps do better here. At any +rate, you shall have better materials than you have been accustomed +to. Begin, in Heaven's name!" + +From a locked press Archivarius Lindhorst now brought out a black +fluid substance, which diffused a most peculiar odor; also pens, +sharply pointed and of strange color, together with a sheet of +especial whiteness and smoothness; then at last an Arabic manuscript; +and as Anselmus sat down to work, the Archivarius left the room. The +student Anselmus had often before copied Arabic manuscripts; the first +problem, therefore, seemed to him not so very difficult to solve. "How +these pot-hooks came into my fine English current-hand, Heaven and +Archivarius Lindhorst know best," said he; "but that they are not from +_my_ hand, I will testify to the death!" At every new word that stood +fair and perfect on the parchment, his courage increased, and with it +his adroitness. In truth, these pens wrote exquisitely well; and the +mysterious ink flowed pliantly and black as jet, on the bright white +parchment. And as he worked along so diligently and with such strained +attention, he began to feel more and more at home in the solitary +room; and already he had quite fitted himself into his task, which he +now hoped to finish well, when at the stroke of three the Archivarius +called him into the side-room to a savory dinner. At table, +Archivarius Lindhorst was in special gaiety of heart; he inquired +about the student Anselmus' friends, Conrector Paulmann, and +Registrator Heerbrand, and of the latter especially he had a store +of merry anecdotes to tell. The good old Rhenish was particularly +grateful to the student Anselmus, and made him more talkative than he +was wont to be. At the stroke of four he rose to resume his labor; and +this punctuality appeared to please the Archivarius. + +If the copying of these Arabic manuscripts had prospered in his hands +before dinner, the task now went forward much better; nay, he could +not himself comprehend the rapidity and ease with which he succeeded +in transcribing the twisted strokes of this foreign character. But +it was as if, in his inmost soul, a voice were whispering in audible +words: "Ah! couldst thou accomplish it wert thou not thinking of +_her_, didst thou not believe in _her_ and in her love?" Then there +floated whispers, as in low, low, waving crystal tones, through the +room: "I am near, near, near! I help thee; be bold, be steadfast, dear +Anselmus! I toil with thee, that thou mayest be mine!" And as, in +the fulness of secret rapture, he caught these sounds, the unknown +characters grew clearer and clearer to him; he scarcely required +to look on the original at all; nay, it was as if the letters were +already standing in pale ink on the parchment, and he had nothing more +to do than mark them black. So did he labor on, encompassed with dear, +consoling tones as with soft, sweet breath, till the clock struck six, +and Archivarius Lindhorst entered the room. He came forward to +the table, with a singular smile; Anselmus rose in silence; the +Archivarius still looked at him, with that mocking smile; but no +sooner had he glanced over the copy than the smile passed into deep, +solemn earnestness, which every feature of his face adapted itself to +express. He seemed no longer the same. His eyes, which usually gleamed +with sparkling fire, now looked with unutterable mildness at Anselmus; +a soft red tinted the pale cheeks; and instead of the irony which at +other times compressed the mouth, the softly-curved, graceful lips now +seemed to be opening for wise and soul-persuading speech. The whole +form was higher, statelier; the wide nightgown spread itself like a +royal mantle in broad folds over his breast and shoulders; and through +the white locks, which lay on his high open brow, there was wound a +thin band of gold. + +"Young man," began the Archivarius in solemn tone, "before thou +thoughtest of it, I knew thee, and all the secret relations which +bind thee to the dearest and holiest I have on earth! Serpentina loves +thee; a singular destiny, whose fateful threads were spun by hostile +powers, is fulfilled should she be thine and thou obtain, as an +essential dowry, the Golden Pot, which of right belongs to her. But +only from effort and contest can thy happiness in the higher life +arise; hostile Principles assail thee; and only the interior force +with which thou shalt withstand these assaults can save thee from +disgrace and ruin. Whilst laboring here thou art passing your +apprenticeship; belief and full knowledge will lead thee to the near +goal, if thou but hold fast what thou hast well begun. Bear _her_ +always and truly in thy thoughts, her who loves thee; then shalt thou +see the marvels of the Golden Pot, and be happy forevermore. Fare +thee well! Archivarius Lindhorst expects thee tomorrow at noon in +thy cabinet. Fare thee well!" With these words Archivarius Lindhorst +softly pushed the student Anselmus out of the door, which he then +locked; and Anselmus found himself in the chamber where he had dined, +the single door of which led out to the lobby. + +Altogether stupified with these strange phenomena, the student +Anselmus stood lingering at the street-door; he heard a window open +above him, and looked up: it was Archivarius Lindhorst, quite the +old man again, in his light-gray gown, as he usually appeared. The +Archivarius called to him: "Hey, worthy Herr Anselmus, what are +you studying over there? Tush, the Arabic is still in your head. +My compliments to Herr Conrector Paulmann, if you see him; and come +tomorrow precisely at noon. The fee for this day is lying in your +right waistcoat-pocket." The student Anselmus actually found the clear +speziesthaler in the pocket indicated; but he took no joy in it. "What +is to come of all this," said he to himself, "I know not; but if it +be some mad delusion and conjuring work that has laid hold of me, the +dear Serpentina still lives and moves in my inward heart, and rather +than leave her I will perish altogether; for I know that the thought +in me is eternal, and no hostile Principle can take it from me; and +what else is this thought but Serpentina's love?" + + + + +EIGHTH VIGIL + + The Library of the Palm-trees. Fortunes of an unhappy Salamander. + How the Black Quill caressed a Parsnip, and Registrator Heerbrand + was much overcome with Liqueur. + + +The student Anselmus had now worked several days with Archivarius +Lindhorst; these working hours were for him the happiest of his life; +ever encircled with the lovely tone of Serpentina's encouraging words, +he was filled and overflowed with a pure delight, which often rose +to highest rapture. Every strait, every little care of his needy +existence, had vanished from his thoughts; and in the new life which +had risen on him as in serene sunny splendor, he comprehended all +the wonders of a higher world, which before had filled him with +astonishment, nay, with dread. His copying proceeded rapidly and +lightly, for he felt more and more as if he were writing characters +long known to him; and he scarcely needed to cast his eye upon the +manuscript, while copying it all with the greatest exactness. + +Except at the hour of dinner, Archivarius Lindhorst seldom made his +appearance, and this always precisely at the moment when Anselmus +had finished the last letter of some manuscript; then the Archivarius +would hand him another, and, directly after, leave him without +uttering a word, having first stirred the ink with a little black rod +and changed the old pens with new sharp-pointed ones. One day, when +Anselmus, at the stroke of twelve, had as usual mounted the stairs, he +found the door through which he commonly entered, standing locked; and +Archivarius Lindhorst came forward from the other side, dressed in his +strange flower-figured nightgown. He called aloud: "Today come this +way, dear Anselmus; for we must to the chamber where Bhogovotgita's +masters are waiting for us." + +He stepped along the corridor, and led Anselmus through the same +chambers and halls as at the first visit. The student Anselmus again +felt astonished at the marvelous beauty of the garden; but he now +perceived that many of the strange flowers, hanging on the dark +bushes, were in truth insects gleaming with lordly colors, hovering +up and down with their little wings as they danced and whirled in +clusters, caressing one another with their antennae. On the other hand +again, the rose and azure-colored birds were odoriferous flowers; +and the perfume which they scattered mounted from their cups in low, +lovely tones, which, with the gurgling of distant fountains, and the +sighing of the high shrubs and trees, melted into mysterious harmonies +of a deep unutterable longing. The mocking-birds, which had so jeered +and flouted him before, were again fluttering to and fro over his +head and crying incessantly with their sharp, small voices: "Herr +Studiosus, Herr Studiosus, don't be in such a hurry! Don't peep into +the clouds so! You may fall on your nose--He, he! Herr Studiosus, put +your powder-mantle on; cousin Screech-Owl will frizzle your toupee." +And so it went along, in all manner of stupid chatter, till Anselmus +left the garden. + +Archivarius Lindhorst at last stepped into the azure chamber; the +porphyry, with the Golden Pot, was gone; instead of it, in the middle +of the room, stood a table overhung with violet-colored satin, upon +which lay the writing-materials already known to Anselmus; and a +stuffed arm-chair, covered with the same sort of cloth, was placed +before it. + +"Dear Herr Anselmus," said Archivarius Lindhorst, "you have now copied +me a number of manuscripts, rapidly and correctly, to my no small +contentment: you have gained my confidence; but the hardest is yet to +come; and that is the transcribing or rather painting of certain works +after the original, composed of peculiar signs; I keep them in this +room, and they can be copied only on the spot. You will, therefore, in +future, work here; but I must recommend to you the greatest foresight +and attention; a false stroke, or, which may Heaven forefend, a blot +let fall on the original, will plunge you into misfortune." + +Anselmus observed that from the golden trunks of the palm-trees, +little emerald leaves projected: one of these leaves the Archivarius +took hold of; and Anselmus could not but perceive that the leaf was in +truth a roll of parchment, which the Archivarius unfolded and spread +out before the student on the table. Anselmus wondered not a little +at these strangely intertwisted characters; and as he looked over +the many points, strokes, dashes, and twirls in the manuscript, which +seemed to represent either plants or mosses or animal figures, he +almost lost hope of ever copying it. He fell into deep thought on the +subject. + +"Be of courage, young man!" cried the Archivarius; "if thou hast +sterling faith and true love, Serpentina will help thee." + +His voice sounded like ringing metal; and as Anselmus looked up in +utter terror, Archivarius Lindhorst was standing before him in the +kingly form, which, during the first visit, he had assumed in the +library. Anselmus felt as if in his deep reverence he could not +but sink on his knee; but the Archivarius stepped up the trunk of a +palm-tree, and vanished aloft among the emerald leaves. The student +Anselmus understood that the Prince of the Spirits had been speaking +with him, and was now gone up to his study; perhaps intending to +advise with the beams which some of the planets had dispatched to him +as envoys, on what was to become of Anselmus and Serpentina. + +"It may be too," thought he further, "that he is expecting news from +the Springs of the Nile; or that some magician from Lapland is paying +him a visit; me it behooves to set diligently about my task." And +with this, he began studying the foreign characters in the roll of +parchment. + +The strange music of the garden sounded over to him and encircled him +with sweet lovely odors; the mocking-birds too he still heard chirping +and twittering, but could not distinguish their words--a thing which +greatly pleased him. At times also it was as if the emerald leaves of +the palm-trees were rustling, and as if the clear crystal tones, which +Anselmus on that fateful Ascension-day had heard under the elder-bush, +were beaming and flitting through the room. Wonderfully strengthened +by this shining and tinkling, the student Anselmus directed his eyes +and thoughts more and more intensely on the superscription of the +parchment roll; and ere long he felt, as it were from his inmost soul, +that the characters could denote nothing else than these words: _Of +the marriage of the Salamander with the green Snake_. Then resounded +a louder triphony of clear crystal bells; "Anselmus! dear Anselmus!" +floated to him from the leaves; and, O wonder! on the trunk of the +palm-tree the green Snake came winding down. + +"Serpentina! Serpentina!" cried Anselmus, in the madness of highest +rapture; for as he gazed more earnestly, it was in truth a lovely, +glorious maiden that, looking at him with those dark-blue eyes, full +of inexpressible longing, as they lived in his heart, was hovering +down to meet him. The leaves seemed to jut out and expand; on every +hand were prickles sprouting from the trunks; but Serpentina twisted +and wound herself deftly through them; and so drew her fluttering +robe, framing her as if in changeful colors, along with her, that, +playing round the dainty form, it nowhere caught on the projecting +points and prickles of the palm-trees. She sat down by Anselmus on the +same chair, clasping him with her arm, and pressing him toward her, +so that he felt the breath which came from her lips, and the electric +warmth of her frame. + +"Dear Anselmus!" began Serpentina, "thou shalt now soon be wholly +mine; by thy faith, by thy Love thou shalt obtain me, and I will bring +thee the Golden Pot, which shall make us both happy forevermore." + +"O thou kind, lovely Serpentina!" said Anselmus. "If I have but thee, +what care I for all else! If thou art but mine, I will joyfully give +in to all the wondrous mysteries that have beset me ever since the +moment when I first saw thee." + +"I know," continued Serpentina, "that the strange and mysterious +things with which my father, often merely in the sport of his humor, +has surrounded thee, have raised horror and dread in thy mind; but +now, I hope, it shall be so no more; for I came now only to tell thee, +dear Anselmus, from the bottom of my heart and soul, all and sundry to +a tittle that thou needest to know for understanding my father, and so +learn the real condition of both of us." + +Anselmus felt as if he were so wholly clasped and encircled by the +gentle, lovely form, that only with her could he move and stir, and +as if it were but the beating of her pulse that throbbed through +his nerves and fibres; he listened to each one of her words which +penetrated his inmost heart, and, like a burning ray, kindled in him +the rapture of Heaven. He had put his arm round that daintier than +dainty waist; but the changeful glistering cloth of her robe was +so smooth and slippery that it seemed to him as if she could at any +moment wind herself from his arms, and glide away. He trembled at the +thought. + +"Ah, do not leave me, sweet Serpentina!" cried he involuntarily; "thou +alone art my life." + +"Not now," said Serpentina, "till I have told thee all that in thy +love of me thou canst comprehend." + +"Know then, dearest, that my father is sprung from the wondrous race +of the Salamanders; and that I owe my existence to his love for the +green Snake. In primeval times, in the Fairyland Atlantis, the potent +Spirit-prince Phosphorus bore rule; and to him the Salamanders, and +other Spirits of the Elements, were plighted. Once on a time, the +Salamander, whom he loved before all others (it was my father), +chanced to be walking in the stately garden, which Phosphorus' mother +had decked in the lordliest fashion with her best gifts; and the +Salamander heard a tall Lily singing in low tones: `Press down thy +little eyelids, till my Lover, the Morning-wind, awake thee.' He +stepped toward it: touched by his glowing breath, the Lily opened her +leaves; and he saw the Lily's daughter, the green Snake, lying asleep +in the hollow of the flower. Then was the Salamander inflamed with +warm love for the fair Snake; and he carried her away from the Lily, +whose perfumes in nameless lamentation vainly called for her beloved +daughter throughout all the garden. For the Salamander had borne her +into the palace of Phosphorus, and was there beseeching him: 'Wed me +with my beloved, for she shall be mine forevermore.' 'Madman, what +askest thou!' said the Prince of the Spirits; 'know that once the Lily +was my mistress, and bore rule with me; but the Spark, which I cast +into her, threatened to annihilate the fair Lily; and only my victory +over the black Dragon, whom now the Spirits of the Earth hold in +fetters, maintains her, that her leaves continue strong enough to +inclose this Spark and preserve it within them. But when thou claspest +the green Snake, thy fire will consume her frame; and a new Being, +rapidly arising from her dust, will soar away and leave thee.' + +"The Salamander heeded not the warning of the Spirit-prince: full of +longing ardor he folded the green Snake in his arms; she crumbled into +ashes; a winged Being, born from her dust, soared away through the +sky. Then the madness of desperation caught the Salamander, and he ran +through the garden, throwing forth fire and flames, and wasted it +in his wild fury, till its fairest flowers and blossoms hung down, +blackened and scathed, and their lamentation filled the air. The +indignant Prince of the Spirits, in his wrath, laid hold of the +Salamander, and said: 'Thy fire has burnt out, thy flames are +extinguished, thy rays darkened; sink down to the Spirits of the +Earth; let these mock and jeer thee, and keep thee captive, till the +Fire-element shall again kindle and beam up with thee as with a new +being from the Earth.' The poor Salamander sank down extinguished; +but now the testy old Earth-spirit, who was Phosphorus' gardener, +came forth and said: 'Master! who has greater cause to complain of the +Salamander than I? Had not all the fair flowers, which he has burnt, +been decorated with my gayest metals; had I not stoutly nursed and +tended their seeds, and spent many a fair hue on their leaves? And yet +I must pity the poor Salamander; for it was but love, in which thou, O +Master, hast full often been entangled, that drove him to despair +and made him desolate the garden. Remit him the too harsh +punishment!'--'His fire is for the present extinguished,' said the +Prince of the Spirits; 'but in the hapless time, when the Speech of +Nature shall no longer be intelligible to degenerate man; when the +Spirits of the Elements, banished into their own regions, shall speak +to him only from afar, in faint, spent echoes; when, displaced from +the harmonious circle, an infinite longing alone shall give him +tidings of the Land of Marvels, which he once might inhabit while +Faith and Love still dwelt in his soul--in this hapless time the fire +of the Salamander shall again kindle; but only to manhood shall he +be permitted to rise, and, entering wholly into man's necessitous +existence, he shall learn to endure its wants and oppressions. Yet not +only shall the remembrance of his first state continue with him, but +he shall again rise into the sacred harmony of all Nature; he shall +understand its wonders, and the power of his fellow-spirits shall +stand at his behest. Then, too, in a Lily-bush, shall he find the +green Snake again, and the fruit of his marriage with her shall be +three daughters, which, to men, shall appear in the form of their +mother. In the spring season these shall disport them in the dark +Elder-bush, and sound with their lovely crystal voices. And then if, +in that needy and mean age of inward obduracy, there shall be found +a youth who understands their song; nay, if one of the little Snakes +look at him with her kind eyes; if the look awaken in him forecastings +of the distant, wondrous Land, to which, having cast away the burden +of the Common, he can courageously soar; if, with love to the Snake, +there rise in him belief in the Wonders of Nature, nay, in his own +existence amid these Wonders--then the Snake shall be his. But not +till three youths of this sort have been found and wedded to the three +daughters, may the Salamander cast away his heavy burden, and return +to his brothers.'--'Permit me, Master,' said the Earth-spirit, 'to +make these three daughters a present, which may glorify their life +with the husbands they shall find. Let each of them receive from me +a Pot, of the fairest metal which I have; I will polish it with +beams borrowed from the diamond; in its glitter shall our Kingdom +of Wonders, as it now exists in the Harmony of universal Nature, be +mirrored in glorious dazzling reflection; and from its interior, on +the day of marriage, shall spring forth a Fire-lily, whose eternal +blossom shall encircle the youth that is found worthy, with sweet +wafting odors. Soon too shall he learn its speech, and understand +the wonders of our kingdom, and dwell with his beloved in Atlantis +itself.' + +"Thou perceivest well, dear Anselmus, that the Salamander of whom I +speak is no other than my father. Spite of his higher nature, he was +forced to subject himself to the paltriest afflictions of common life; +and hence, indeed, often comes the mischievous humor with which he +vexes many. He has told me now and then, that, for the inward make of +mind, which the Spirit-prince Phosphorus required as a condition of +marriage with me and my sisters, men have a name at present, which, +in truth, they frequently enough misapply: they call it a childlike +poetic mind. This mind, he says, is often found in youths, who, by +reason of their high simplicity of manners and their total want of +what is called knowledge of the world, are mocked by the populace. Ah, +dear Anselmus, beneath the Elder-bush thou understoodest my song, my +look; thou lovest the green Snake, thou believest in me, and wilt be +mine forevermore! The fair Lily will bloom forth from the Golden +Pot; and we shall dwell, happy, and united, and blessed, in Atlantis +together! + +"Yet I must not hide from thee that in its deadly battle with the +Salamanders and Spirits of the Earth, the black Dragon burst from +their grasp and hurried off through the air. Phosphorus, indeed, +again holds him in fetters; but from the black Quills, which, in the +struggle, rained down on the ground, there sprung up hostile Spirits, +which on all hands set themselves against the Salamanders and Spirits +of the Earth. That woman who so hates thee, dear Anselmus, and who, +as my father knows full well, is striving for possession of the +Golden Pot; that woman owes her existence to the love of such a Quill +(plucked in battle from the Dragon's wing) for a certain Parsnip +beside which it dropped. She knows her origin and her power; for, in +the moans and convulsions of the captive Dragon, the secrets of many a +mysterious constellation are revealed to her; and she uses every means +and effort to work from the Outward into the Inward and unseen; while +my father, with the beams which shoot forth from the spirit of the +Salamander, withstands and subdues her. All the baneful principles +which lurk in deadly herbs and poisonous beasts, she collects; and, +mixing them under favorable constellations, raises therewith many +a wicked spell, which overwhelms the soul of man with fear and +trembling, and subjects him to the power of those Demons, produced +from the Dragon when it yielded in battle. Beware of that old woman, +dear Anselmus! She hates thee because thy childlike, pious character +has annihilated many of her wicked charms. Keep true, true to me; soon +art thou at the goal!" + +"O my Serpentina! my own Serpentina!" cried the student Anselmus, "how +could I leave thee, how should I not love thee forever!" A kiss was +burning on his lips; he awoke as from a deep dream; Serpentina had +vanished; six o'clock was striking, and it fell heavy on his heart +that today he had not copied a single stroke. Full of anxiety, and +dreading reproaches from the Archivarius, he looked into the sheet; +and, O wonder! the copy of the mysterious manuscript was fairly +concluded; and he thought, on viewing the characters more narrowly, +that the writing was nothing else but Serpentina's story of her +father, the favorite of the Spirit-prince Phosphorus, in Atlantis, +the Land of Marvels. And now entered Archivarius Lindhorst, in his +light-gray surtout, with hat and staff; he looked into the parchment +on which Anselmus had been writing, took a large pinch of snuff, and +said with a smile "Just as I thought!--Well, Herr Anselmus, here is +your speziesthaler; we will now to the Linke Bath; do but follow me!" +The Archivarius stepped rapidly through the garden, in which there was +such a din of singing, whistling, talking, that the student Anselmus +was quite deafened with it and thanked Heaven when he found himself on +the street. + +Scarcely had they walked a few paces when they met Registrator +Heerbrand, who companionably joined them. At the Gate, they filled +their pipes, which they had about them; Registrator Heerbrand +complained that he had left his tinder-box behind, and could not +strike fire. "Fire!" cried Archivarius Lindhorst, scornfully; "here is +fire enough, and to spare!" And with this he snapped his fingers, out +of which came streams of sparks and directly kindled the pipes.--"Do +but observe the chemical knack of some men!" said Registrator +Heerbrand; but the student Anselmus thought, not without internal awe, +of the Salamander and his history. + +In the Linke Bath, Registrator Heerbrand drank so much strong double +beer that at last, though usually a good-natured, quiet man, he began +singing student songs in squeaking tenor; he asked every one sharply +whether he was his friend or not; and at last had to be taken home by +the student Anselmus, long after Archivarius had gone his way. + + + + +NINTH VIGIL + + How the student Anselmus attained to some Sense. The Punch Parts. + How the student Anselmus took Conrector Paulmann for a Screech-Owl, + and the latter felt much hurt at it. The Ink-blot, and its + Consequences. + + +The strange and mysterious things which day by day befell the student +Anselmus had entirely withdrawn him from every-day life. He no longer +visited any of his friends, and waited every morning with impatience +for the hour of noon, which was to unlock his paradise. And yet while +his whole soul was turned to the sweet Serpentina and the wonders of +Archivarius Lindhorst's fairy kingdom, he could not help now and then +thinking of Veronica; nay, often it seemed as if she came before him +and confessed with blushes how heartily she loved him, how much +she longed to rescue him from the phantoms which were mocking and +befooling him. At times he felt as if a foreign power, suddenly +breaking in on his mind, were drawing him with resistless force to the +forgotten Veronica; as if he must needs follow her whither she pleased +to lead him, nay, as if he were bound to her by ties that would not +break. That very night after Serpentina had first appeared to him +in the form of a lovely maiden, after the wondrous secret of the +Salamander's nuptials with the green Snake had been disclosed, +Veronica, came before him more vividly than ever. Nay, not till he +awoke was he clearly aware that he had been but dreaming; for he had +felt persuaded that Veronica was actually beside him, complaining with +an expression of keen sorrow, which pierced through his inmost soul, +that he should sacrifice her deep, true love to fantastic visions, +which only the distemper of his mind called into being, and which, +moreover, would at last prove his ruin. Veronica was lovelier than he +had ever seen her; he could not drive her from his thoughts: and in +this perplexed and contradictory mood he hastened out, hoping to get +rid of it by a morning walk. + +A secret magic influence led him on to the Pirna gate; he was just +turning into a cross street, when Conrector Paulmann, coming after +him, cried out: "Ey! Ey!--Dear Herr Anselmus!--_Amice! Amice_! Where, +in Heaven's name, have you been buried so long? We never see you at +all. Do you know, Veronica is longing very much to have another song +with you! So come along; you were just on the road to me, at any +rate." + +The student Anselmus, constrained by this friendly violence, went +along with the Conrector. On entering the house they were met by +Veronica, attired with such neatness and attention that Conrector +Paulmann, full of amazement, asked her: "Why so decked, Mam'sell? Were +you expecting visitors? Well, here I bring you Herr Anselmus." The +student Anselmus, in daintily and elegantly kissing Veronica's hand +felt a small soft pressure from it, which shot like a stream of fire +over all his frame. Veronica was cheerfulness, was grace itself; and +when Paulmann left them for his study, she contrived, by all manner of +rogueries and waggeries, so to uplift the student Anselmus that he at +last quite forgot his bashfulness, and jigged round the room with the +light-headed maiden. But here again the Demon of Awkwardness got hold +of him; he jolted a table, and Veronica's pretty little work-box fell +to the floor. Anselmus picked it up; the lid had sprung, and a little +round metallic mirror was glittering on him, into which he looked with +peculiar delight. Veronica glided softly up to him, laid her hand on +his arm, and, pressing close to him, looked over his shoulder into the +mirror also. And now Anselmus felt as if a battle were beginning +in his soul; thoughts, images flashed out--Archivarius +Lindhorst--Serpentina--the green Snake--at last the tumult abated, and +all this chaos arranged and shaped itself into distinct consciousness. +It was now clear to him that he had always thought of Veronica alone; +nay, that the form which had yesterday appeared to him in the blue +chamber had been no other than Veronica; and that the wild legend of +the Salamander's marriage with the green Snake had merely been written +down by him from the manuscript, but nowise related in his hearing. He +wondered not a little at all these dreams and ascribed them solely to +the heated state of mind into which Veronica's love had brought him, +as well as to his working with Archivarius Lindhorst, in whose rooms +there were, besides, so many strangely intoxicating odors. He could +not but laugh heartily at the mad whim of falling in love with a +little green Snake and taking a well-fed Privy Archivarius for a +Salamander: "Yes, Yes! It is Veronica!" cried he aloud; but on turning +his head around he looked right into Veronica's blue eyes, from which +warmest love was beaming. A faint soft Ah! escaped her lips, which at +that moment were burning on his. + +"O happy I!" sighed the enraptured student: "What I yesternight but +dreamed, is in very deed mine today." + +"But wilt thou really wed me, then, when thou art Hofrat?" said +Veronica. + +"That I will," replied the student Anselmus; and just then the door +creaked, and Conrector Paulmann entered with the words: + +"Now, dear Herr Anselmus, I will not let you go today. You will put up +with a bad dinner; then Veronica will make us delightful coffee, which +we shall drink with Registrator Heerbrand, for he promised to come +hither." + +"All, best Herr Conrector!" answered the student Anselmus, "are you +not aware that I must go to Archivarius Lindhorst's and copy?" + +"Look you, Amice!" said Conrector Paulmann, holding up his watch, +which pointed to half-past twelve. + +The student Anselmus saw clearly that he was much too late for +Archivarius Lindhorst; and he complied with the Corrector's wishes the +more readily as he might now hope to look at Veronica the whole day +long, to obtain many a stolen glance and little squeeze of the hand, +nay, even to succeed in conquering a kiss--so high had the student +Anselmus' desires now mounted; he felt more and more contented in +soul, the more fully he convinced himself that he should soon be +delivered from all the fantastic imaginations, which really might have +made a sheer idiot of him. + +Registrator Heerbrand came, as he had promised, after dinner; and +coffee being over, and the dusk come on, the Registrator, his face +puckering up to a smile and gaily rubbing his hands, signified that he +had something about him which, if mingled and reduced to form, as it +were paged and titled, by Veronica's fair hands, might be pleasant to +them all, on this October evening. + +"Come out, then, with this mysterious substance which you carry +with, you, most valued Registrator," cried Conrector Paulmann. Then +Registrator Heerbrand shoved his hand into his deep pocket, and at +three journeys brought out a bottle of arrack, some citrons, and a +quantity of sugar. Before half an hour had passed, a savory bowl of +punch was smoking on Paulmann's table. Veronica served the beverage; +and ere long there was plenty of gay, good-natured chat among the +friends. But the student Anselmus, as the spirit of the punch mounted +into his head, felt all the images of those wondrous things, which for +some time he had experienced, again coming through his mind. He +saw the Archivarius in his damask nightgown, which glittered like +phosphorus; he saw the azure room, the golden palm-trees; nay, it now +seemed to him as if he must still believe in Serpentina; there was a +fermentation, a conflicting tumult in his soul. Veronica handed him +a glass of punch; and in taking it, he gently touched her hand. +"Serpentina! Veronica!" sighed he to himself. He sank into deep +dreams; but Registrator Heerbrand cried quite aloud: "A strange old +gentleman, whom nobody can fathom, he is and will be, this Archivarius +Lindhorst. Well, long life to him! Your glass, Herr Anselmus!" + +Then the student Anselmus awoke from his dreams, and said, as he +touched glasses with Registrator Heerbrand "That proceeds, respected +Herr Registrator, from the circumstance that Archivarius Lindhorst +is in reality a Salamander, who wasted in his fury the Spirit-prince +Phosphorus' garden, because the green Snake had flown away from him." + +"How? What?" inquired Conrector Paulmann. + +"Yes," continued the student Anselmus; "and for this reason he is now +forced to be a Royal Archivarius, and to keep house here in Dresden +with his three daughters, who, after all, are nothing more than little +gold-green Snakes, that bask in elder-bushes, and traitorously sing, +and seduce away young people, like so many sirens." + +"Herr Anselmus! Herr Anselmus!" cried Conrector Paulmann, "is there +a crack in your brain? In Heaven's name, what monstrous stuff is this +you are babbling?" + +"He is right," interrupted Registrator Heerbrand; "that fellow, that +Archivarius, is a cursed Salamander, and strikes you fiery snips from +his fingers, which burn holes in your surtout like red-hot tinder. Ay, +ay, thou art in the right, brotherkin Anselmus; and whoever says No, +is saying No to me!" And at these words Registrator Heerbrand struck +the table with his fist, till the glasses rattled. + +"Registrator! Are you crazy?" cried the angry Conrector. "Herr +Studiosus, Herr Studiosus! What is this you are about again?" + +"Ah!" said the student, "you too are nothing but a bird, a +screech-owl, that frizzles toupees, Herr Conrector!" "What!--I +a bird?--screech-owl, a frizzler?" cried the Conrector, full of +indignation; "Sir, you are mad, born mad!" + +"But the crone will get a clutch of him," cried Registrator Heerbrand. + +"Yes, the crone is potent," interrupted the student Anselmus, "though +she is but of mean descent; for her father was nothing but a ragged +wing-feather, and her mother a dirty parsnip; but the most of her +power she owes to all sorts of baneful creatures, poisonous vermin +which she keeps about her." + +"That is a horrid calumny," cried Veronica, with eyes all glowing in +anger; "old Liese is a wise woman; and the black Cat is no baneful +creature, but a polished young gentleman of elegant manners, and her +cousin german." + +"Can _he_ eat Salamanders without singeing his whiskers, and dying +like a candle-snuff?" cried Registrator Heerbrand. + +"No! no!" shouted the student Anselmus, "that he never can in this +world; and the green Snake loves me, for I have a childlike mien, and +I have looked into Serpentina's eyes." + +"The Cat will scratch them out," cried Veronica. + +"Salamander, Salamander masters them all, all!" hallooed Conrector +Paulmann, in the highest fury. "But am I in a madhouse? Am I mad +myself? What crazy stuff am I chattering? Yes, I am mad too! mad too!" +And with this, Conrector Paulmann started up, tore the peruke from his +head and dashed it against the ceiling of the room, till the battered +locks whizzed, and, tangled into utter disorder, rained down the +powder far and wide. Then the student Anselmus and Registrator +Heerbrand seized the punch-bowl and the glasses, and, hallooing and +huzzaing, pitched them against the ceiling also, and the sherds fell +jingling and tingling about their ears. + +"_Vivat_ the Salamander!--_Pereat, pereat_ the crone!--Break the +metal mirror!--Dig the cat's eyes out!--Bird, little Bird, from the +air--_Eheu--Eheu--Evoe--Evoe_, Salamander!" So shrieked and shouted +and bellowed the three, like utter maniacs. With loud weeping, +Fränzchen ran out; but Veronica lay whimpering for pain and sorrow on +the sofa. + +At this moment the door opened; all was instantly still; and a little +man, in a small gray cloak, came stepping in. His countenance had +a singular air of gravity; and especially the round hooked nose, on +which was a huge pair of spectacles, distinguished itself from all the +noses ever seen. He wore a strange peruke too--more like a feather-cap +than a wig. + +"Ey, many good evenings!" grated and cackled the little comical +mannikin. "Is the student Herr Anselmus among you, gentlemen?--Best +compliments from Archivarius Lindhorst; he has waited today in vain +for Herr Anselmus; but tomorrow he begs most respectfully to request +that Herr Anselmus would not forget the hour." + +And with this he went out again; and all of them now saw clearly +that the grave little mannikin was in fact a gray Parrot. Conrector +Paulmann and Registrator Heerbrand raised a horse-laugh, which +reverberated through the room, and, in the intervals, Veronica was +moaning and whimpering, as if torn by nameless sorrow; but as to the +student Anselmus, the madness of inward horror was darting through +him, and unconsciously he ran out of the door, into the street. +Instinctively he reached his house, his garret. Ere long Veronica came +in to him, with a peaceful and friendly look, and asked him why, in +his intoxication, he had so alarmed her; and desired him to be on +his guard against new imaginations, while working at Archivarius +Lindhorst's. "Good night, good night, my beloved friend!" whispered +Veronica, scarce audibly, and breathed a kiss on his lips. He +stretched out his arms to clasp her, but the dreamy shape had +vanished, and he awoke cheerful and refreshed. He could not but laugh +heartily at the effects of the punch; but in thinking of Veronica, he +felt pervaded by a most delightful feeling. "To her alone," said he +within himself, "do I owe this return from my insane whims. In good +sooth, I was little better than the man who believed himself to be of +glass; or he who durst not leave his room for fear the hens should eat +him, as he imagined himself to be a barleycorn. But as soon as I am +Hofrat I will marry Mademoiselle Paulmann and be happy, and there's an +end of it." + +At noon, as he walked through Archivarius Lindhorst's garden, he +could not help wondering how all this had once appeared so strange and +marvelous to him. He now saw nothing but common, earthen flowerpots, +quantities of geraniums, myrtles, and the like. Instead of the +glittering party-colored birds which used to flout him, there were +only a few sparrows fluttering hither and thither, which raised an +unpleasant, unintelligible cry at sight of Anselmus. The azure room +also had quite a different look; and he could not understand how that +glaring blue, and those unnatural golden trunks of palm-trees, with +their shapeless glistening leaves, should ever have pleased him for a +moment. The Archivarius looked at him with a most peculiar, ironical +smile, and asked: "Well, how did you like the punch last night, good +Anselmus?" + +"Ah, doubtless you have heard from the gray Parrot how--" answered the +student Anselmus, quite ashamed; but he stopped short, bethinking him +that this appearance of the Parrot was all a piece of jugglery of the +confused senses. + +"I was there myself," said Archivarius Lindhorst; "did you not see me? +But, among the mad pranks you were playing, I had nigh got lamed; for +I was sitting in the punch-bowl, at the very moment when Registrator +Heerbrand laid hands on it, to dash it against the ceiling; and I had +to make a quick retreat into the Conrector's pipehead. Now, adieu, +Herr Anselmus! Be diligent at your task; for the lost day also you +shall have a speziesthaler, because you worked so well before." + +"How can the Archivarius babble such mad stuff?" thought the student +Anselmus, sitting down at the table to begin the copying of the +manuscript, which Archivarius Lindhorst had as usual spread out before +him. But on the parchment roll he perceived so many strange crabbed +strokes and twirls all twisted together in inexplicable confusion, +offering no resting-point for the eye, that it seemed to him well-nigh +impossible to copy all this exactly. Nay, in glancing over the whole, +you might have thought the parchment was nothing but a piece of +thickly veined marble, or a stone sprinkled over with lichens. +Nevertheless he determined to do his utmost, and boldly dipped in +his pen; but the ink would not run, do what he would; impatiently +he spirted the point of his pen against his nail, and--Heaven and +Earth!--a huge blot fell on the out-spread original! Hissing and +foaming, a blue flash rose from the blot, and, crackling and wavering, +shot through the room to the ceiling. Then a thick vapor rolled from +the walls; the leaves began to rustle, as if shaken by a tempest; and +down out of them darted glaring basilisks in sparkling fire; these +kindled the vapor, and the bickering masses of flame rolled round +Anselmus. The golden trunks of the palm-trees became gigantic snakes, +which knocked their frightful heads together with piercing metallic +clang and wound their scaly bodies round Anselmus. + +"Madman I suffer now the punishment of what, in insolent sacrilege, +thou hast done!" So cried the frightful voice of the crowned +Salamander, who appeared above the snakes like a glittering beam in +the midst of the flame; and now the yawning jaws of the snakes poured +forth cataracts of fire on Anselmus; and it was as if the fire-streams +were congealing about his body and changing into a firm ice-cold +mass. But while Anselmus' limbs, more and more pressed together and +contracted, stiffened into powerlessness, his senses passed away. +On returning to himself, he could not stir a joint; he was as if +surrounded with a glistening brightness, on which he struck if he but +tried to lift his hand or move otherwise.--Alas! He was sitting in a +well-corked crystal bottle, on a shelf, in the library of Archivarius +Lindhorst. + + + + +TENTH VIGIL + + Sorrows of the student Anselmus in the Glass Bottle. Happy Life of + the Cross Church Scholars and Law Clerks. The Battle in the Library + of Archivarius Lindhorst. Victory of the Salamander, and Deliverance + of the student Anselmus. + + +Justly may I doubt whether thou, kind reader, wert ever sealed up in +a glass bottle; or even that any vivid tormenting dream ever oppressed +thee with such a demon from fairyland. If such were the case, thou +wouldst keenly enough figure out the poor student Anselmus' woe; but +shouldst thou never have even dreamed such things, then will thy quick +fancy, for Anselmus' sake and mine, be obliging enough to inclose +itself for a few moments in the crystal. Thou art drowned in dazzling +splendor; all objects about thee appear illuminated and begirt with +beaming rainbow hues; all quivers and wavers, and clangs and drones, +in the sheen; thou art floating motionless as in a firmly congealed +ether, which so presses thee together that the spirit in vain gives +orders to the dead and stiffened body. Weightier and weightier the +mountain burden lies on thee; more and more does every breath exhaust +the little handful of air, that still plays up and down in the narrow +space; thy pulse throbs madly; and, cut through with horrid anguish, +every nerve is quivering and bleeding in this deadly agony. Have +pity, kind reader, on the student Anselmus of whom this inexpressible +torture laid hold in his glass prison; but he felt too well that death +could not relieve him; for did he not awake from the deep swoon +into which the excess of pain had cast him, and open his eyes to new +wretchedness, when the morning sun shone clear into the room? He could +move no limb; but his thoughts struck against the glass, stupefying +him with discordant clang; and instead of the words, which the spirit +used to speak from within him, he now heard only the stifled din of +madness. Then he exclaimed in his despair "O Serpentina! Serpentina! +save me from this agony of Hell!" And it was as if faint sighs +breathed around him, which spread like green transparent elder-leaves +over the glass; the clanging ceased; the dazzling, perplexing glitter +was gone, and he breathed more freely. + +"Have not I myself solely to blame for my misery? Ah! Have not I +sinned against thee, thou kind, beloved Serpentina? Have not I raised +vile doubts of thee? Have not I lost my faith, and, with it, all, +all that was to make me so blessed? Ah! Thou wilt now never, never +be mine; for me the Golden Pot is lost, and I shall not behold its +wonders any more. Ah, but once could I see thee, but once hear thy +gentle sweet voice, thou lovely Serpentina!" + +So wailed the student Anselmus, caught with deep piercing sorrow; then +spoke a voice close by him: "What the devil ails you Herr Studiosus? +What makes you lament so, out of all compass and measure?" + +The student Anselmus now noticed that on the same shelf with him were +five other bottles, in which he perceived three Cross Church Scholars, +and two Law Clerks. + +"Ah, gentlemen, my fellows in misery," cried he, "how is it possible +for you to be so calm, nay so happy, as I read in your cheerful looks? +You are sitting here corked up in glass bottles, as well as I, and +cannot move a finger, nay, not think a reasonable thought but there +rises such a murder-tumult of clanging and droning and in your head +itself a tumbling and rumbling enough to drive one mad. But doubtless +you do not believe in the Salamander, or the green Snake." + +"You are pleased to jest, Mein Herr Studiosus," replied a Cross Church +Scholar; "we have never been better off than at present; for the +speziesthalers which the mad Archivarius gave us for all manner of +pot-hook copies, are clinking in our pockets; we have now no Italian +choruses to learn by heart; we go every day to Joseph's or other inns, +where we do justice to the double-beer, we even look pretty girls in +their faces; and we sing, like real students, _Gaudeamus igitur_, and +are contented in spirit!" + +"The gentlemen are quite right," added a Law Clerk; "I too am well +furnished with speziesthalers, like my dearest colleague beside me +here; and we now diligently walk about on the Weinberg, instead of +scurvy Act-writing within four walls." + +"But, my best, worthiest gentlemen!" said the student Anselmus, "do +you not feel, then, that you are all and sundry corked up in glass +bottles, and cannot for your hearts walk a hair's-breadth?" + +Here the Cross Church Scholars and the Law Clerks set up a loud laugh, +and cried: "The student is mad; he fancies himself to be sitting in +a glass bottle, and is standing on the Elbe-bridge and looking right +down into the water. Let us go along!" + +"Ah!" sighed the student, "they have never seen the sweet Serpentina; +they know not what Freedom, and life in Love, and Faith, signify; +and so by reason of their folly and low-mindedness, they feel not +the oppression of the imprisonment into which the Salamander has cast +them. But I, unhappy I, must perish in want and woe, if she, whom I so +inexpressibly love, do not deliver me!" + +Then, waving in faint tinkles, Serpentina's voice flitted through +the room: "Anselmus! believe, love, hope!" And every tone beamed +into Anselmus' prison; and the crystal yielded to his pressure, and +expanded, till the breast of the captive could move and heave. + +The torment of his situation became less and less, and he saw clearly +that Serpentina still loved him, and that it was she alone, who +had rendered his confinement in the crystal tolerable. He disturbed +himself no more about his frivolous companions in misfortune, but +directed all his thoughts and meditations on the gentle Serpentina. +Suddenly, however, there arose on the other side a dull, croaking, +repulsive murmur. Ere long he could observe that it proceeded from an +old coffee-pot, with half-broken lid, standing over against him on a +little shelf. As he looked at it more narrowly, the ugly features of +a wrinkled old woman by degrees unfolded themselves; and in a few +moments, the Apple-wife of the Black Gate stood before him. She +grinned and laughed at him, and cried with screeching voice: "Ey, Ey, +my pretty boy, must thou lie in limbo now? To the crystal thou hast +run; did I not tell thee long ago?" + +"Mock and jeer me; do, thou cursed witch!" said the student Anselmus. +"Thou art to blame for it all; but the Salamander will catch thee, +thou vile Parsnip!" + +"Ho, ho!" replied the crone, "not so proud, good ready-writer! Thou +hast smashed my little sons to pieces, thou hast burnt my nose; but I +must still like thee, thou knave, for once thou wert a pretty fellow; +and my little daughter likes thee too. Out of the crystal thou wilt +never come unless I help thee; up thither I cannot clamber; but my +cousin gossip the Rat, that lives close above thee, will gnaw in two +the shelf on which thou standest; thou shalt jingle down, and I catch +thee in my apron, that thy nose be not broken, or thy fine sleek face +at all injured; then I will carry thee to Mam'sell Veronica, and thou +shalt marry her when thou art Hofrat." + +"Avaunt, thou devil's brood!" cried the student Anselmus, full of +fury; "it was thou alone and thy hellish arts that brought me to the +sin which I must now expiate. But I bear it all patiently; for only +here can I be, where the kind Serpentina encircles me with love and +consolation. Hear it, thou beldam, and despair! I bid defiance to +thy power; I love Serpentina, and none but her forever; I will not +be Hofrat, will not look at Veronica, who by thy means entices me +to evil. Can the green Snake not be mine, I will die in sorrow and +longing. Take thyself away, thou vile rook! Take thyself away!" + +The crone laughed till the chamber rung: "Sit and die then," cried +she, "but now it is time to set to work; for I have other trade to +follow here." She threw off her black cloak, and so stood in hideous +nakedness; then she ran round in circles, and large folios came +tumbling down to her; out of these she tore parchment leaves, and, +rapidly patching them together in artful combination and fixing +them on her body, in a few instants she was dressed as if in strange +party-colored scale harness. Spitting fire, the black Cat darted out +of the ink-glass, which was standing on the table, and ran mewing +toward the crone, who shrieked in loud triumph and along with him +vanished through the door. + +Anselmus observed that she went toward the azure chamber, and directly +he heard a hissing and storming in the distance; the birds in the +garden were crying; the Parrot creaked out: "Help! help! Thieves! +thieves!" That moment the crone returned with a bound into the room, +carrying the Golden Pot on her arm, and, with hideous gestures, +shrieking wildly through the air; "Joy! joy, little son!--Kill the +green Snake! To her, son! To her!" + +Anselmus thought he heard a deep moaning, heard Serpentina's voice. +Then horror and despair took hold of him; he gathered all his force, +he dashed violently, as if nerve and artery were bursting, against the +crystal; a piercing clang went through the room, and the Archivarius +in his bright damask nightgown was standing in the door. + +"Hey, hey! vermin!--Mad spell!--Witchwork!--Hither, holla!" So shouted +he; then the black hair of the crone started up like bristles; her +red eyes glanced with infernal fire, and clenching together the peaked +fangs of her ample jaws, she hissed: "Hiss, at him! Hiss, at him! +Hiss!" and laughed and haw-hawed in scorn and mockery, and pressed +the Golden Pot firmly toward her, and threw out of it handfuls of +glittering earth on the Archivarius; but as it touched the nightgown +the earth changed into flowers, which rained down on the ground. +Then the lilies of the nightgown flickered and flamed up; and the +Archivarius caught these lilies blazing in sparky fire and dashed them +on the witch; she howled for agony, but still as she leapt aloft and +shook her harness of parchment the lilies went out and fell away into +ashes. + +"To her, my lad!" creaked the crone; then the black Cat darted through +the air, and plunged over the Archivarius' head toward the door; but +the gray Parrot fluttered out against him and caught him with his +crooked bill by the nape, till red fiery blood burst down over his +neck; and Serpentina's voice cried: "Saved! Saved!" Then the crone, +foaming with rage and desperation, darted out upon the Archivarius; +she threw the Golden Pot behind her, and holding up the long talons of +her skinny fists, was for clutching the Archivarius by the throat; but +he instantly doffed his nightgown, and hurled it against her. Then, +hissing, and sputtering, and bursting, shot blue flames from the +parchment leaves, and the crone rolled round in howling agony, and +strove to get fresh earth from the Pot, fresh parchment leaves from +the books, that she might stifle the blazing flames; and whenever any +earth or leaves came down on her the flames went out. But now, as +if coming from the interior of the Archivarius, there issued fiery +crackling beams, and darted on the crone. + +"Hey, hey! To it again! Salamander! Victory!" clanged the Archivarius' +voice through the chamber; and a hundred bolts whirled forth in fiery +circles round the shrieking crone. Whizzing and buzzing flew Cat +and Parrot in their furious battle; but at last the Parrot, with +his strong wing, dashed the Cat to the ground; and with his talons +transfixing and holding fast his adversary, which, in deadly agony, +uttered horrid mews and howls, he, with his sharp bill, picked out +his glowing eyes, and the burning froth spouted from them. Then thick +vapor streamed up from the spot where the crone, hurled to the ground, +was lying under the nightgown; her howling, her terrific, piercing cry +of lamentation died away in the remote distance. The smoke, which had +spread abroad with irresistible smell, cleared off; the Archivarius +picked up his nightgown, and under it lay an ugly Parsnip. + +"Honored Herr Archivarius, here, let me offer you the vanquished foe," +said the Parrot, holding out a black hair in his beak to Archivarius +Lindhorst. + +"Very well, my worthy friend," replied the Archivarius; "here lies +my vanquished foe too; be so good now as to manage what remains. This +very day, as a small douceur, you shall have six cocoanuts, and a new +pair of spectacles also, for I see the Cat has villainously broken +your glasses. + +"Yours forever, most honored friend and patron!" answered the Parrot, +much delighted; then took the Parsnip in his bill, and fluttered out +with it by the window which Archivarius Lindhorst had opened for him. + +The Archivarius now lifted the Golden Pot, and cried, with a strong +voice, "Serpentina! Serpentina!" But as the student Anselmus, joying +in the destruction of the vile beldam who had hurried him into +misfortune, cast his eyes on the Archivarius, behold, here stood once +more the high majestic form of the Spirit-prince, looking up to +him with indescribable dignity and grace. "Anselmus," said the +Spirit-prince, "not thou, but a hostile Principle, which strove +destructively to penetrate into thy nature and divide thee +against thyself, was to blame for thy unbelief. Thou hast kept thy +faithfulness; be free and happy." A bright flash quivered through the +spirit of Anselmus; the royal triphony of the crystal bells sounded +stronger and louder than he had ever heard it; his nerves and fibres +thrilled; but, swelling higher and higher, the melodious tones rang +through the room; the glass which inclosed Anselmus broke; and he +rushed into the arms of his dear and gentle Serpentina. + + + + +ELEVENTH VIGIL + + Conrector Paulmann's anger at the madness which had broken out in + his Family. How Registrator Heerbrand became Hofrat; and, in the + keenest Frost, walked about in Shoes and silk Stockings. Veronica's + Confessions. Betrothment over the steaming Soup-dish. + + +"But tell me, best Registrator, how the cursed punch last night could +so mount into our heads, and drive us to all manner of _allotria_?" +So said Conrector Paulmann, as he next morning entered his room, +which still lay full of broken sherds, and in whose midst his hapless +peruke, dissolved into its original elements, was floating in the +punch-bowl. After the student Anselmus ran out of doors, Conrector +Paulmann and Registrator Heerbrand had still kept trotting and +hobbling up and down the room, shouting like maniacs, and butting +their heads together; till Fränzchen, with much labor, carried her +vertiginous papa to bed, and Registrator Heerbrand, in the deepest +exhaustion, sank on the sofa, which Veronica had left, taking refuge +in her bedroom. Registrator Heerbrand had his blue handkerchief tied +about his head; he looked quite pale and melancholic, and moaned out: +"Ah, worthy Conrector, not the punch which Mam'sell Veronica most +admirably brewed, no! but simply that cursed student is to blame for +all the mischief. Do you not observe that he has long been _mente +caphis_? And are you not aware that madness is infectious? One fool +makes twenty; pardon me, it is an old proverb; especially when you +have drunk a glass or two, you fall into madness quite readily, and +then involuntarily you manoeuvre, and go through your exercise, just +as the crack-brained fugleman makes the motion. Would you believe it, +Conrector? I am still giddy when I think of that gray Parrot!" + +"Gray fiddlesticks!" interrupted the Conrector; "it was nothing but +Archivarius Lindhorst's little old Famulus, who had thrown a gray +cloak over him and was seeking the student Anselmus." + +"It may be," answered Registrator Heerbrand, "but, I must confess, I +am quite downcast in spirit; the whole night through there was such a +piping and organing." + +"That was I," said the Conrector, "for I snore loud." + +"Well, maybe," answered the Registrator; "but Conrector, Conrector! +Ah, not without cause did I wish to raise some cheerfulness among +us last night--But that Anselmus has spoiled all! You know not--O +Conrector, Conrector!" And with this, Registrator Heerbrand started +up, plucked the cloth from his head, embraced the Conrector, warmly +pressed his hand, and again cried, in quite heart-breaking tones: "O +Conrector, Conrector!" and, snatching his hat and staff, rushed out of +doors. + +"This Anselmus comes not over my threshold again," said Conrector +Paulmann; "for I see very well that, with this obdurate madness of +his, he robs the best people of their senses. The Registrator is +now over with it too; I have hitherto kept safe; but the Devil, who +knocked hard last night in our carousal, may get in at last and play +his tricks with me. So _Apage, Satanas_! Off with thee, Anselmus!" +Veronica had grown quite pensive; she spoke no word; only smiled now +and then very oddly, and liked best to be alone. "Also of her distress +Anselmus is the cause," said the Conrector, full of malice; "but it +is well that he does not show himself here; I know he fears me, this +Anselmus, and so he never comes." + +These concluding words Conrector Paulmann spoke aloud; then the tears +rushed into Veronica's eyes, and she said, sobbing: "Ah! how can +Anselmus come? He has long been corked up in the glass bottle." + +"How? What?" cried Conrector Paulmann. "Ah Heaven! Ah Heaven! she is +doting too, like the Registrator; the loud fit will soon come! +Ah, thou cursed, abominable, thrice-cursed Anselmus!" He ran forth +directly to Doctor Eckstein, who smiled, and again said: "Ey! Ey!" +This time, however, he prescribed nothing; but added, to the little +he had uttered, the following words, as he walked away: "Nerves! Come +round of itself. Take the air; walks; amusements; theatre; playing +_Sonntagskind, Schwestern von Prag_. Come round of itself." + +"So eloquent I have seldom seen the Doctor," thought Conrector +Paulmann; "really talkative, I declare!" + +Several days and weeks and months were gone; Anselmus had vanished; +but Registrator Heerbrand also did not make his appearance--not till +the fourth of February, when the Registrator, in a new fashionable +coat of the finest cloth, in shoes and silk stockings, notwithstanding +the keen frost, and with a large nosegay of fresh flowers in his hand, +did enter precisely at noon into the parlor of Conrector Paulmann, who +wondered not a little to see his friend so dizened. With a solemn air, +Registrator Heerbrand stepped forward to Conrector Paulmann; embraced +him with the finest elegance, and then said: "Now at last, on the +Saint's-day of your beloved and most honored Mam'sell Veronica, I will +tell you out, straightforward, what I have long had lying at my heart. +That evening, that unfortunate evening, when I put the ingredients of +that cursed punch in my pocket, I purposed imparting to you a piece of +good news, and celebrating the happy day in convivial joys. Already I +had learned that I was to be made Hofrat, for which promotion I have +now the patent, _cum nomine et sigillo Principis_, in my pocket." + +"Ah! Herr Registr--Herr Hofrat Heerbrand, I meant to say," stammered +the Conrector. + +"But it is you, most honored Conrector," continued the new Hofrat; "it +is you alone that can complete my happiness. For a long time I have in +secret loved your daughter, Mam'sell Veronica; and I can boast of many +a kind look which she has given me, evidently showing that she would +not cast me away. In one word, honored Conrector! I, Hofrat Heerbrand, +do now entreat of you the hand of your most amiable Mam'sell Veronica, +whom I, if you have nothing against it, purpose shortly to take home +as my wife." + +Conrector Paulmann, full of astonishment, clapped his hands +repeatedly, crying: "Ey, Ey, Ey! Herr Registr--Herr Hofrat, I meant +to say--who would have thought it? Well, if Veronica does really +love you, I for my share cannot object; nay, perhaps, her present +melancholy is nothing but concealed love for you, most honored Hofrat! +You know what freaks they have!" + +At this moment Veronica entered, pale and agitated as she now commonly +was. Then Hofrat Heerbrand stepped toward her; mentioned in a neat +speech her Saint's-day and handed her the odorous nosegay, along +with a little packet; out of which, when she opened it, a pair of +glittering ear-rings beamed up at her. A rapid flying blush tinted her +cheeks; her eyes sparkled in joy, and she cried: "O Heaven! These are +the very ear-rings which I wore some weeks ago, and thought so much +of." + +"How can this be, dearest Mam'sell," interrupted Hofrat Heerbrand, +somewhat alarmed and hurt, "when I bought these jewels not an hour ago +in the Schlossgasse, for current money?" + +But Veronica heeded him not; she was standing before the mirror to +witness the effect of the trinkets, which she had already suspended +in her pretty little ears. Conrector Paulmann disclosed to her, with +grave countenance and solemn tone, his friend Heerbrand's preferment +and present proposal. Veronica looked at the Hofrat with a searching +look, and said: "I have long known that you wished to marry me. Well, +be it so! I promise you my heart and hand; but I must now unfold to +you, to both of you, I mean, my father and my bridegroom, much that +is lying heavy on my heart; yes, even now, though the soup should get +cold, which I see Fränzchen is just putting on the table." + +Without waiting for the Conrector's or the Hofrat's reply, though the +words were visibly hovering on the lips of both, Veronica continued: +"You may believe me, best father, I loved Anselmus from my heart, and +when Registrator Heerbrand, who is now become Hofrat himself, assured +us that Anselmus might probably reach that position, I resolved that +he and no other should be my husband. But then it seemed as if alien +hostile beings were for snatching him away from me; I had recourse to +old Liese, who was once my nurse, but is now a wise woman, and a great +enchantress. She promised to help me and give Anselmus wholly into +my hands. We went at midnight on the Equinox to the crossing of the +roads; she conjured certain hellish spirits, and by aid of the black +Cat we manufactured a little metallic mirror, in which I, directing my +thoughts on Anselmus, had but to look in order to rule him wholly in +heart and mind. But now I heartily repent having done all this, and +here abjure all Satanic arts. The Salamander has conquered old Liese; +I heard her shrieks; but there was no help to be given; so soon as the +Parrot had eaten the Parsnip my metallic mirror broke in two with a +piercing clang." Veronica took out both the pieces of the mirror, +and a lock of hair from her work-box, and handing them to Hofrat +Heerbrand, she proceeded: "Here, take the fragments of the mirror, +dear Hofrat; throw them down, tonight, at twelve o'clock, over the +Elbe-bridge, from the place where the Cross stands; the stream is not +frozen there; the lock, however, do you wear on your faithful breast. +I again abjure all magic; and heartily wish Anselmus joy of his +good fortune, seeing he is wedded with the green Snake, who is +much prettier and richer than I. You, dear Hofrat, I will love and +reverence as becomes a true honest wife." + +"Alack! Alack!" cried Conrector Paulmann, full of sorrow; "she is +cracked, she is cracked; she can never be Frau Hofrätin; she is +cracked!" + +"Not in the least," interrupted Hofrat Heerbrand; "I know well that +Mam'sell Veronica has felt kindly toward the loutish Anselmus; and it +may be that in some fit of passion, she has had recourse to the wise +woman, who, as I perceive, can be no other than the card-caster and +coffee-pourer of the Seetor--in a word, old Rauerin. Nor can it be +denied that there are secret arts, which exert their influence on +men but too balefully; we read of such in the Ancients, and doubtless +there are still such; but as to what Mam'sell Veronica is pleased to +say about the victory of the Salamander, and the marriage of Anselmus +with the green Snake, this, in reality, I take for nothing but a +poetic allegory; a sort of poem, wherein she sings her entire farewell +to the Student." + +"Take it for what you will, best Hofrat!" cried Veronica; "perhaps for +a very stupid dream." + +"That I nowise do," replied Hofrat Heerbrand; "for I know well that +Anselmus himself is possessed by secret powers, which vex him and +drive him on to all imaginable mad freaks." + +Conrector Paulmann could stand it no longer; he broke loose: "Hold! +For the love of Heaven, hold! Are we again overtaken with the cursed +punch, or has Anselmus' madness come over us too? Herr Hofrat, what +stuff is this you are talking? I will suppose, however, that it is +love which haunts your brain; this soon comes to rights in marriage; +otherwise I should be apprehensive that you too had fallen into some +shade of madness, most honored Herr Hofrat; then what would become +of the future branches of the family, inheriting the _malum_ of their +parents? But now I give my paternal blessing to this happy union, and +permit you as bride and bridegroom to take a kiss." + +This happened forthwith; and thus before the presented soup had +grown cold, was a formal betrothment concluded. In a few weeks, Frau +Hofrätin Heerbrand was actually, as she had been in vision, sitting in +the balcony of a fine house in the Neumarkt, and looking down with a +smile on the beaux, who, passing by, turned their glasses up to her, +and said: "She is a heavenly woman, the Hofrätin Heerbrand." + + + + +TWELFTH VIGIL + + Account of the Freehold Property to which Anselmus removed, as + son-in-law of Archivarius Lindhorst; and how he lives there with + Serpentina. Conclusion. + + +How deeply did I feel, in the depth of my heart, the blessedness of +the student Anselmus, who now, indissolubly united with his gentle +Serpentina, has withdrawn to the mysterious Land of Wonders, +recognized by him as the home toward which his bosom, filled with +strange forecastings, had always longed. But in vain was all my +striving to set before thee, kind reader, those glories with which +Anselmus is encompassed, or even in the faintest degree to shadow them +forth to thee in words. Reluctantly I could not but acknowledge the +feebleness of my every expression. I felt myself enthralled amid +the paltriness of every-day life; I sickened in tormenting +dissatisfaction; I glided about like a dreamer; in brief, I fell into +that condition of the student Anselmus, which, in the Fourth Vigil, I +have endeavored to set before thee. It grieved me to the heart, when I +glanced over the Eleven Vigils, now happily accomplished, and thought +that to insert the Twelfth, the keystone of the whole, would never be +vouchsafed me. For whensoever, in the night season, I set myself to +complete the work, it was as if mischievous Spirits (they might be +relations, perhaps cousins german, of the slain witch) held a polished +glittering piece of metal before me, in which I beheld my own mean +Self, pale, overwatched, and melancholic, like Registrator Heerbrand +after his bout of punch. Then I threw down my pen, and hastened to +bed, that I might behold the happy Anselmus and the fair Serpentina, +at least in my dreams. This had lasted for several days and nights, +when at length quite unexpectedly I received a note from Archivarius +Lindhorst, in which he addressed me as follows: + +"Respected Sir--It is well known to me that you have written down, in +Eleven Vigils, the singular fortunes of my good son-in-law Anselmus, +whilom student, now poet; and are at present cudgeling your brains +very sore, that in the Twelfth and Last Vigil you may tell somewhat of +his happy life in Atlantis, where he now lives with my daughter on +the pleasant Freehold which I possess in that country. Now, +notwithstanding I much regret that hereby my own peculiar nature is +unfolded to the reading world; seeing it may, in my office as Privy +Archivarius, expose me to a thousand inconveniences; nay, in the +Collegium even give rise to the question: How far a Salamander can +justly, and with binding consequences, plight himself by oath, as a +Servant of the State, and how far, on the whole, important affairs may +be intrusted to him, since, according to Gabalis and Swedenborg, +the Spirits of the Elements are not to be trusted at +all?--notwithstanding, my best friends must now avoid my embrace; +fearing lest, in some sudden exuberance, I dart out a flash or two, +and singe their hair-curls, and Sunday frocks; notwithstanding all +this, I say, it is still my purpose to assist you in the completion of +the Work, since much good of me and of my dear married daughter (would +the other two were off my hands also!) has therein been said. Would +you write your Twelfth Vigil, therefore, then descend your cursed five +pair of stairs, leave your garret, and come over to me. In the blue +palm-tree room, which you already know, you will find fit writing +materials; and you can then, in a few words, specify to your readers +what you have seen--a better plan for you than any long-winded +description of a life which you know only by hearsay. + +With esteem, your obedient servant, + +THE SALAMANDER LINDHORST, + +P.T. Royal Privy Archivarius." + +This truly somewhat rough, yet on the whole friendly note from +Archivarius Lindhorst, gave me high pleasure. Clear enough it +seemed, indeed, that the singular manner in which the fortunes of his +son-in-law had been revealed to me, and which I, bound to silence, +must conceal even from thee, kind reader, was well known to this +peculiar old gentleman; yet he had not taken it so ill as I might +readily have apprehended. Nay, here was he offering me his helpful +hand in the completion of my work; and from this I might justly +conclude that at bottom he was not averse to have his marvelous +existence in the world of spirits thus divulged through the press. + +"It may be," thought I, "that he himself expects from this measure, +perhaps, to get his two other daughters the sooner married; for who +knows but a spark may fall in this or that young man's breast, and +kindle a longing for the green Snake; whom, on Ascension-day, under +the elder-bush, he will forthwith seek and find? From the woe which +befell Anselmus, when inclosed in the glass bottle, he will take +warning to be doubly and trebly on his guard against all doubt and +unbelief." + +Precisely at eleven o'clock I extinguished my study-lamp and glided +forth to Archivarius Lindhorst, who was already waiting for me in the +lobby. + +"Are you there, my worthy friend? Well, this is what I like, that you +have not mistaken my good intentions; do but follow me!" + +And with this he led the way through the garden, now filled with +dazzling brightness, into the azure chamber, where I observed the same +violet table at which Anselmus had been writing. + +Archivarius Lindhorst disappeared, but soon came back, carrying in his +hand a fair golden goblet out of which a high blue flame was sparkling +up. "Here," said he, "I bring you the favorite drink of your friend +the Bandmaster, Johannes Kreisler.[45] It is burning arrack, into +which I have thrown a little sugar. Sip a touch or two of it; I will +doff my nightgown, and, to amuse myself and enjoy your worthy company +while you sit looking and writing, shall just bob up and down a little +in the goblet." + +"As you please, honored Herr Archivarius," answered I: "but if I am to +ply the liqueur, you will get none." + +"Don't fear that, my good fellow," cried the Archivarius; then hastily +threw off his nightgown, mounted, to my no small amazement, into the +goblet, and vanished in the blaze. Without fear, softly blowing black +the flame, I partook of the drink; it was truly delicious! + +Stir not the emerald leaves of the palm-trees in soft sighing and +rustling, as if kissed by the breath of the morning wind? Awakened +from their sleep, they move and mysteriously whisper of the wonders +which, from the far distance, approach like tones of melodious harps! +The azure rolls from the walls, and floats like airy vapor to and +fro; but dazzling beams shoot through the perfume which, whirling +and dancing, as in jubilee of childlike sport, mounts and mounts to +immeasurable heights, and vaults over the palm-trees. But brighter and +brighter shoots beam on beam, till in bright sunshine and boundless +expanse opens the grove where I behold Anselmus. Here glowing +hyacinths, and tulips, and roses, lift their fair heads; and their +perfumes, in loveliest sound, call to the happy youth: "Wander, wander +among us, our beloved; for thou understandest us! Our perfume is the +Longing of Love; we love thee, and are thine forevermore!" The golden +rays burn in glowing tones: "We are Fire, kindled by Love. Perfume is +Longing; but Fire is Desire: and dwell we not in thy bosom? We are thy +own!" The dark bushes, the high trees, rustle and sound: "Come to +us, thou loved, thou happy one! Fire is Desire; but Hope is our cool +Shadow. Lovingly we rustle round thy head; for thou understandest us, +because Love dwells in thy breast!" The fountains and brooks murmur +and patter. "Loved one, walk not so quickly by; look into our crystal! +Thy image dwells in us, which we preserve with Love, for thou hast +understood us." In the triumphal choir, bright birds are singing: +"Hear us! Hear us! We are Joy, we are Delight, the rapture of Love!" +But longingly Anselmus turns his eyes to the Glorious Temple, which +rises behind him in the distance. The artful pillars seem trees; and +the capitals and friezes acanthus leaves, which in wondrous wreaths +and figures form splendid decorations. Anselmus walks to the Temple; +he views with inward delight the variegated marble, the steps with +their strange veins of moss. "Ah, no!" cries he, as if in the excess +of rapture, "she is not far from me now; she is near!" Then advances +Serpentina, in the fulness of beauty and grace, from the Temple; +she bears the Golden Pot, from which a bright Lily has sprung. The +nameless rapture of infinite longing glows in her bright eyes; she +looks at Anselmus, and says: "Ah! Dearest, the Lily has sent forth her +bowl; what we longed for is fulfilled; is there a happiness to equal +ours?" Anselmus clasps her with the tenderness of warmest ardor; the +Lily burns in flaming beams over his head. And louder move the trees +and bushes; clearer and gladder play the brooks; the birds, the +shining insects dance in the waves of perfume; a gay, bright rejoicing +tumult, in the air, in the water, in the earth, is holding the +festival of Love! Now rush sparkling streaks, gleaming over all the +bushes; diamonds look from the ground like shining eyes; high gushes +spurt from the wells; strange perfumes are wafted hither on sounding +wings; they are the Spirits of the Elements, who do homage to the +Lily, and proclaim the happiness of Anselmus. Then Anselmus raises his +head, as if encircled with a beamy glory. Is it looks? Is it words? +Is it song? You hear the sound: "Serpentina! Belief in thee, Love of +thee, has unfolded to my soul the inmost spirit of Nature! Thou hast +brought me the Lily, which sprung from Gold, from the primeval Force +of the earth, before Phosphorus had kindled the spark of Thought; this +Lily is Knowledge of the sacred Harmony of all Beings; and in this do +I live in highest blessedness forevermore. Yes, I, thrice happy, +have perceived what was highest; I must indeed love thee forever, O +Serpentina! Never shall the golden blossoms of the Lily grow pale; +for, like Belief and Love, Knowledge is eternal." + +For the vision, in which I had now beheld Anselmus bodily, in his +Freehold of Atlantis, I stand indebted to the arts of the Salamander; +and most fortunate was it that, when all had melted into air, I found +a paper lying on the violet table, with the foregoing statement of the +matter, written fairly and distinctly by my own hand. But now I felt +myself as if transpierced and torn in pieces by sharp sorrow. "Ah, +happy Anselmus, who hast cast away the burden of week-day life, who +in the love of thy kind Serpentina fliest with bold pinion, and now +livest in rapture and joy on thy Freehold in Atlantis! while I--poor +I!--must soon, nay, in a few moments, leave even this fair hall, which +itself is far from a Freehold in Atlantis, and again be transplanted +to my garret, where, enthralled among the pettinesses of necessitous +existence, my heart and my sight are so bedimmed with thousand +mischiefs, as with thick fog, that the fair Lily will never, never be +beheld by me." + +Then Archivarius Lindhorst patted me gently on the shoulder, and said: +"Soft, soft, my honored friend! Lament not so! Were you not even now +in Atlantis, and have you not at least a pretty little copyhold Farm +there, as the poetical possession of your inward sense? And is the +blessedness of Anselmus aught else but a Living in Poesy? Can aught +else but Poesy reveal itself as the sacred Harmony of all Beings, as +the deepest secret of Nature?" + + + + +_FRIEDRICH BARON DE LA MOTTE FOUQUÉ_ + + * * * * * + + +SELECTIONS FROM UNDINE[46] (1811) + +TRANSLATED BY F.E. BUNNETT + +CHAPTER VIII + +The Day after the wedding + + +The fresh light of the morning awoke the young married pair. Undine +hid bashfully beneath her covers while Huldbrand lay still, absorbed +in deep meditation. Wonderful and horrible dreams had disturbed +Huldbrand's rest; he had been haunted by spectres, who, grinning at +him by stealth, had tried to disguise themselves as beautiful women, +and from beautiful women they all at once assumed the faces of +dragons, and when he started up from these hideous visions the +moonlight shone pale and cold into the room; terrified he looked at +Undine on whose bosom he fell asleep and who still lay in unaltered +beauty and grace. Then he would press a light kiss upon her rosy lips +and would fall asleep again only to be awakened by new terrors. +After he had reflected on all this, now that he was fully awake, he +reproached himself for any doubt that could have led him into error +with regard to his beautiful wife. He begged her to forgive him for +the injustice he had done her, but she only held out to him her fair +hand, sighed deeply, and remained silent. But a glance of exquisite +fervor, such as he had never seen before, beamed from her eyes, +carrying with it the full assurance that Undine bore him no ill-will. +He then rose cheerfully and left her, to join his friends in the +common apartment. + +He found the three sitting round the hearth with an air of anxiety, +as if they dared not venture to speak aloud. The priest seemed to be +praying in his inmost spirit that all evil might be averted. When, +however, they saw the young husband come forth so cheerfully, the +careworn expression of their faces vanished. + +The old fisherman even began to tease the knight, but in so chaste and +modest a manner that the aged wife herself smiled good-humoredly as +she listened to them. Undine at length made her appearance. All rose +to meet her and all stood still with surprise, for the young wife +seemed so strange to them and yet the same. The priest was the first +to advance toward her, with paternal affection beaming in his face, +and, as he raised his hand to bless her, the beautiful woman sank +reverently on her knees before him. With a few humble and gracious +words she begged him to forgive her for any foolish things she might +have said the evening before, and entreated him in an agitated tone +to pray for the welfare of her soul. She then rose, kissed her +foster-parents, and thanking them for all the goodness they had shown +her, she exclaimed, "Oh, I now feel in my innermost heart, how much, +how infinitely much, you have done for me, dear, kind people!" She +could not at first desist from her caresses, but scarcely had she +perceived that the old woman was busy in preparing breakfast than she +went to the hearth, cooked and arranged the meal, and would not suffer +the good old mother to take the least trouble. + +She continued thus throughout the whole day, quiet, kind, and +attentive--at once a little matron and a tender bashful girl. The +three who had known her longest expected every moment to see some +whimsical vagary of her capricious spirit burst forth; but they waited +in vain for it. Undine remained as mild and gentle as an angel. The +holy father could not take his eyes from her, and he said repeatedly +to the bridegroom, "The goodness of heaven, sir, has intrusted a +treasure to you yesterday through me, unworthy as I am; cherish it as +you ought, and it will promote your temporal and eternal welfare." + +[Illustration: FRIEDRICH BARON DE LA MOTTE-FOUQUÉ.] + +Toward evening Undine was hanging on the knight's arm with humble +tenderness, and drew him gently out of the door where the declining +sun was shining pleasantly on the fresh grass and upon the tall +slender stems of the trees. The eyes of the young wife were moist, +as with the dew of sadness and love, and a tender and fearful secret +seemed hovering on her lips--which, however, was disclosed only by +scarcely audible sighs. She led her husband onward and onward in +silence; when he spoke she answered him only with looks, in which, +it is true, there lay no direct reply to his inquiries, but a whole +heaven of love and timid devotion. Thus they reached the edge of +the swollen forest-stream, and the knight was astonished to see it +rippling along in gentle waves, without a trace of its former wildness +and swell. "By the morning, it will be quite dry," said the beautiful +wife, in a regretful tone, "and you can then travel away wherever you +will, without anything to hinder you." + +"Not without you, my little Undine," replied the knight, laughing; +"remember, even if I wished to desert you, the church, and the +spiritual powers, and the emperor, and the empire, would interpose and +bring the fugitive back again." + +"All depends upon you, all depends upon you," whispered his wife, half +weeping and half smiling. "I think, however, nevertheless, that you +will keep me with you; I love you so heartily. Now carry me across to +that little island that lies before us. The matter shall be decided +there. I could easily indeed glide through the rippling waves, but it +is so restful in your arms, and, if you are to cast me off, I shall +have sweetly rested in them once more for the last time." Huldbrand, +full as he was of strange fear and emotion, knew not what to reply. He +took her in his arms and carried her across, remembering now for the +first time that this was the same little island from which he had +borne her back to the old fisherman on that first night. On the +farther side he put her down on the soft grass, and was on the point +of placing himself lovingly near his beautiful burden when she said, +"No, there, opposite to me! I will read my sentence in your eyes, +before your lips speak; now, listen attentively to what I will relate +to you!" And she began: + +"You must know, my loved one, that there are beings in the elements +which appear almost like you mortals, and which rarely allow +themselves to become visible to your race. Wonderful salamanders +glitter and sport in the flames; lean and malicious gnomes dwell deep +within the earth; spirits, belonging to the air, wander through the +forests; and a vast family of water spirits live in the lakes and +streams and brooks. In resounding domes of crystal, through which the +sky looks in with its sun and stars, these latter spirits find their +beautiful abode; lofty trees of coral, with blue and crimson fruits, +gleam in the gardens; they wander over the pure sand of the sea, and +among lovely variegated shells, and amid all exquisite treasures of +the old world, which the present is no longer worthy to enjoy; all +these the floods have covered with their secret veils of silver, and +the noble monuments sparkle below, stately and solemn, and bedewed by +the loving waters which allure from them many a beautiful moss-flower +and entwining cluster of sea-grass. Those, however, who dwell there, +are very fair and lovely to behold, and for the most part are more +beautiful than human beings. Many a fisherman has been so fortunate +as to surprise some tender mermaid, as she rose above the waters and +sang. He would then tell afar of her beauty, and such wonderful beings +have been given the name of Undines. You, moreover, are now actually +beholding an Undine." + +The knight tried to persuade himself that his beautiful wife was +under the spell of one of her strange humors and that she was taking +pleasure in teasing him with one of her extravagant inventions. But +repeatedly as he said this to himself, he could not believe it for a +moment; a strange shudder passed through him; unable to utter a word, +he stared at the beautiful narrator with an immovable gaze. Undine +shook her head sorrowfully, drew a deep sigh, and then proceeded. + +"Our condition would be far superior to that of you human beings--for +human beings we call ourselves, being similar to them in form and +culture--but there is one evil peculiar to us. We and our like in the +other elements vanish into dust and pass away, body and spirit, +so that not a vestige of us remains behind; and when you mortals +hereafter awake to a purer life we remain with the sand and the sparks +and the wind and the waves. Hence we have also no souls; the element +moves us and is often obedient to us while we live, though it scatters +us to dust when we die; and we are merry, without having aught to +grieve us--merry as the nightingales and little gold-fishes and other +pretty children of nature. But all beings aspire to be higher than +they are. Thus my father, who is a powerful water-prince in the +Mediterranean Sea, desired that his only daughter should become +possessed of a soul, even though she must then endure many of the +sufferings of those thus endowed. Such as we, however, can obtain a +soul only by the closest union of love with one of your human race. +I am now possessed of a soul, and my soul I owe you, my inexpressibly +beloved one, and it will ever thank you if you do not make my whole +life miserable. For what is to become of me if you avoid and reject +me? Still I would not retain you by deceit. And if you mean to reject +me do so now, and return alone to the shore. I will dive into this +brook, which is my uncle; and here in the forest, far removed from +other friends, he passes his strange and solitary life. He is, +however, powerful, and is esteemed and beloved by many great streams; +and as he brought me hither to the fisherman, a light-hearted, +laughing child, he will take me back again to my parents, a loving, +suffering, and soul-endowed woman." + +She was about to say still more, but Huldbrand embraced her with the +most heartfelt emotion and love, and bore her back again to the shore. +It was not till he reached it that he swore, amid tears and kisses, +never to forsake his sweet wife, calling himself more happy than the +Greek sculptor Pygmalion, whose beautiful statue received life from +Venus and became his loved one. In endearing confidence Undine walked +back to the cottage, leaning on his arm, and feeling now for the first +time with all her heart how little she ought to regret the forsaken +crystal palaces of her mysterious father. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +How they lived at Castle Ringstetten + + +The writer of this story, both because it moves his own heart and +because he wishes it to move that of others, begs you, dear reader, to +pardon him if he now briefly passes over a considerable space of time, +only cursorily mentioning the events that marked it. He knows well +that he might portray according to the rules of art, step by step, how +Huldbrand's heart began to turn from Undine to Bertalda; how Bertalda +more and more responded with ardent love to the young knight, and how +they both looked upon the poor wife as a mysterious being rather to +be feared than pitied; how Undine wept, and how her tears stung the +knight's heart with remorse without awakening his former love, so that +though he at times was kind and endearing to her, a cold shudder +would soon draw him from her and he would turn to his fellow-mortal, +Bertalda. All this the writer knows might be fully detailed, and +perhaps ought to have been so; but such a task would have been too +painful, for similar things have been known to him by sad experience, +and he shrinks from their shadow even in remembrance. You know +probably a like feeling, dear reader, for such is the lot of mortal +man. Happy are you if you have received rather than inflicted the +pain, for in such things it is more blessed to receive than to give. +If it be so, such recollections will bring only a feeling of sorrow +to your mind, and perhaps a tear will trickle down your cheek over +the faded flowers that once caused you such delight. But let that be +enough. We will not pierce our hearts with a thousand separate things, +but only briefly state, as I have just said, how matters were. + +Poor Undine was very sad, and the other two were not to be called +happy. Bertalda, especially, thought that she could trace the effect +of jealousy on the part of the injured wife whenever her wishes +were in any way thwarted. She had therefore habituated herself to an +imperious demeanor, to which Undine yielded in sorrowful submission, +and the now blinded Huldbrand usually encouraged this arrogant +behavior in the strongest manner. But the circumstance that most of +all disturbed the inmates of the castle was a variety of wonderful +apparitions which met Huldbrand and Bertalda in the vaulted galleries +of the castle, and which had never been heard of before as haunting +the locality. The tall white man, in whom Huldbrand recognized only +too plainly Uncle Kühleborn, and Bertalda the spectral master of the +fountain, often passed before them with a threatening aspect, and +especially before Bertalda, on so many occasions that she had several +times been made ill with terror and had frequently thought of quitting +the castle. But still she stayed there, partly because Huldbrand was +so dear to her, and she relied on her innocence, no words of love +having ever passed between them, and partly also because she knew +not whither to direct her steps. The old fisherman, on receiving the +message from the lord of Ringstetten that Bertalda was his guest, had +written a few lines in an almost illegible hand but as well as his +advanced age and long disuse would admit of. "I have now become," he +wrote, "a poor old widower, for my dear and faithful wife is dead. +However lonely I now sit in my cottage, Bertalda is better with you +than with me. Only let her do nothing to harm my beloved Undine! +She will have my curse if it be so." The last words of this letter +Bertalda flung to the winds, but she carefully retained the part +respecting her absence from her father--just as we are all wont to do +in similar circumstances. + +One day, when Huldbrand had just ridden out, Undine summoned the +domestics of the family and ordered them to bring a large stone and +carefully to cover with it the magnificent fountain which stood in the +middle of the castle-yard. The servants objected that it would oblige +them to bring water from the valley below. Undine smiled sadly. "I am +sorry, my people," she replied, "to increase your work. I would +rather myself fetch up the pitchers, but this fountain must be closed. +Believe me that it cannot be otherwise, and that it is only by so +doing that we can avoid a greater evil." + +The whole household were glad to be able to please their gentle +mistress; they made no further inquiry, but seized the enormous stone. +They were just raising it in their hands and were already poising it +over the fountain, when Bertalda came running up and called out to +them to stop, as it was from this fountain that the water was brought +which was so good for her complexion and she would never consent to +its being closed. Undine, however, although gentle as usual, was this +time more than usually firm. She told Bertalda that it was her due, as +mistress of the house, to arrange her household as she thought best, +and that, in this, she was accountable to no one but her lord and +husband. "See, oh, pray see," exclaimed Bertalda, in an angry yet +uneasy tone, "how the poor beautiful water is curling and writhing at +being shut out from the bright sunshine and from the cheerful sight +of the human face, for whose mirror it was created!" The water in the +fountain was indeed wonderfully agitated and hissing; it seemed as if +something within were struggling to free itself, but Undine only the +more earnestly urged the fulfilment of her orders. The earnestness was +scarcely needed. The servants of the castle were as happy in obeying +their gentle mistress as in opposing Bertalda's haughty defiance; and +in spite of all the rude scolding and threatening of the latter, the +stone was soon firmly lying over the opening of the fountain. Undine +leaned thoughtfully over it and wrote with her beautiful fingers on +its surface. She must, however, have had something very sharp and +corrosive in her hand, for when she turned away and the servants +drew near to examine the stone, they perceived all sorts of strange +characters upon it, which none of them had seen there before. + +Bertalda received the knight, on his return home in the evening, with +tears and complaints of Undine's conduct. He cast a serious look at +his poor wife, and she looked down in great distress; yet she said +with great composure, "My lord and husband does not reprove even a +bond-slave without a hearing, how much less, then, his wedded wife?" + +"Speak," said the knight with a gloomy countenance, "what induced you +to act so strangely?" + +"I should like to tell you when we are quite alone," sighed Undine. + +"You can tell me just as well in Bertalda's presence," was the +rejoinder. + +"Yes, if you command me," said Undine; "but command it not. Oh pray, +pray command it not!" She looked so humble, so sweet, so obedient, +that the knight's heart felt a passing gleam from better times. He +kindly placed her arm within his own and led her to his apartment, +when she began to speak as follows: + +"You already know, my beloved lord, something of my evil uncle, +Kühleborn, and you have frequently been displeased at meeting him in +the galleries of this castle. He has several times frightened Bertalda +into illness. This is because he is devoid of soul, a mere elemental +mirror of the outward world, without the power of reflecting the world +within. He sees, too, sometimes, that you are dissatisfied with me; +that I, in my childishness, am weeping at this, and that Bertalda +perhaps is at the very same moment laughing. Hence he imagines various +discrepancies in our home life, and in many ways mixes unbidden with +our circle. What is the good of my reproving him? What is the use of +my sending him angrily away? He does not believe a word I say. His +poor nature has no idea that the joys and sorrows of love have so +sweet a resemblance, and are so closely linked that no power can +separate them. Amid tears a smile shines forth, and a smile allures +tears from their secret chambers." + +She looked up at Huldbrand, smiling and weeping; and he again +experienced within his heart all the charm of his old love. She felt +this, and, pressing him more tenderly to her, she continued amid tears +of joy, "As the disturber of our peace was not to be dismissed with +words, I have been obliged to shut the door upon him. And the only +door by which he obtains access to us, is that fountain. He is at odds +with the other water-spirits in the neighborhood, counting from the +adjacent valleys, and his kingdom only recommences further off on the +Danube, into which some of his good friends direct their course. For +this reason I had the stone placed over the opening of the fountain, +and I inscribed characters upon it which cripple all my uncle's power, +so that he can now neither intrude upon you, nor upon me, nor upon +Bertalda. Human beings, it is true, can raise the stone again with +ordinary effort, in spite of the characters inscribed on it; the +inscription does not hinder them. If you wish, therefore, follow +Bertalda's desire, but, truly, she knows not what she asks! The +ill-bred Kühleborn has set his mark especially upon her; and if this +or that came to pass which he has predicted to me and which might +indeed happen without your meaning any evil--ah! dear one, even you +would then be exposed to danger!" + +Huldbrand felt deeply the generosity of his sweet wife, in her +eagerness to shut up her formidable protector while she had even been +chided for it by Bertalda. He pressed her therefore in his arms with +the utmost affection, and said with emotion, "The stone shall remain, +and all shall remain, now and ever, as you wish to have it, my sweet +little Undine." + +She caressed him with humble delight as she heard the expressions +of love so long withheld, and then at length she said, "My dearest +friend, since you are so gentle and kind today, may I venture to ask +a favor of you? See now, it is just the same with you as it is with +summer. In the height of its glory summer puts on the flaming and +thundering crown of mighty storms and assumes the air of a king over +the earth. You too sometimes let your fury rise, and your eyes flash, +and your voice is angry, and this becomes you well, though I in my +folly may sometimes weep at it. But never, I pray you, behave thus +toward me on the water, or even when we are near it. You see, my +relatives would then acquire a right over me. They would unrelentingly +tear me from you in their rage because they would imagine that one of +their race was injured, and I should be compelled all my life to dwell +below in the crystal palaces, and should never be permitted to ascend +to you again; or they would send me up to you--and that, oh God, would +be infinitely worse. No, no, my beloved friend, do not let it come to +that, however dear poor Undine be to you." He promised solemnly to do +as she desired, and husband and wife returned from the apartment, full +of happiness and affection. + +At that moment Bertalda appeared with some workmen to whom she had +already given orders, and said in the sullen tone which she had +assumed of late, "I suppose the secret conference is at an end, and +now the stone may be removed. Go out, workmen, and attend to it." +But the knight, angry at her impertinence, directed in short and very +decisive words that the stone should be left; he reproved Bertalda, +too, for her violence toward his wife. Whereupon the workmen withdrew, +smiling with secret satisfaction; while Bertalda, pale with rage, +hurried away to her rooms. + +The hour for the evening repast arrived, and Bertalda was waited for +in vain. They sent after her, but the domestic found her apartments +empty, and only brought back with him a sealed letter addressed to the +knight. He opened it with alarm, and read: "I feel with shame that +I am only a poor fisher-girl. I will expiate my fault in having +forgotten this for a moment, by returning to the miserable cottage of +my parents. Farewell to you and your beautiful wife." + +Undine was heartily distressed. She earnestly entreated Huldbrand to +hasten after their friend and bring her back again. Alas! she had no +need to urge him. His affection for Bertalda burst forth again with +vehemence. He hurried round the castle, inquiring if any one had seen +which way the beautiful fugitive had gone. He could learn nothing of +her and was already on his horse in the castle-yard, resolved to take +at a venture the road by which he had brought Bertalda hither. Just +then a page appeared, who assured him that he had met the lady on the +path to the Black Valley. Like an arrow the knight sprang through the +gate-way in the direction indicated, without hearing Undine's voice of +agony as she called to him from the window: "To the Black Valley! Oh, +not there! Huldbrand, don't go there! or, for Heaven's sake, take me +with you!" But when she perceived that all her calling was in vain, +she ordered her white palfrey to be saddled immediately and rode after +the knight without allowing any servant to accompany her. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +How Bertalda returned home with the Knight + + +The Black Valley lies deep within the mountains. What it is now called +we do not know. At that time the people of the country gave it this +appellation on account of the deep obscurity in which the low land +lay, owing to the shadows of the lofty trees, and especially firs, +that grew there. Even the brook which bubbled between the rocks wore +the same dark hue, and dashed along with none of that gladness with +which streams are wont to flow that have the blue sky immediately +above them. Now, in the growing twilight of evening, it looked +altogether wild and gloomy between the heights. The knight trotted +anxiously along the edge of the brook, fearful at one moment that +by delay he might allow the fugitive to advance too far, and, at the +next, that by too great rapidity he might overlook her in case she +were concealing herself from him. Meanwhile he had already penetrated +quite a ways into the valley, and might soon hope to overtake the +maiden if he were on the right track, but the fear that this might not +be the case made his heart beat with anxiety. Where would the tender +Bertalda tarry through the stormy night, which was so fearful in the +valley, should he fail to find her? At length he saw something white +gleaming through the branches on the slope of the mountain. He +thought he recognized Bertalda's dress, and turned his course in that +direction. But his horse refused to go forward; it reared impatiently; +and its master, unwilling to lose a moment, and seeing moreover that +the copse was impassable on horseback, dismounted; then, fastening his +snorting steed to an elm-tree, he worked his way cautiously through +the bushes. The branches sprinkled his forehead and cheeks with the +cold drops of the evening dew; a distant roll of thunder was heard +murmuring from the other side of the mountains; everything looked so +strange that he began to feel a dread of the white figure which now +lay only a short distance from him on the ground. Still he could +plainly see that it was a woman, either asleep or in a swoon, and that +she was attired in long white garments such as Bertalda had worn +on that day. He stepped close up to her, made a rustling with the +branches, and let his sword clatter, but she moved not. "Bertalda!" +he exclaimed, at first in a low voice, and then louder and louder--but +still she heard not. At last, when he uttered the dear name with a +more powerful effort, a hollow echo from the mountain-caverns of the +valley indistinctly reverberated "Bertalda!" but still the sleeper +woke not. He bent down over her; the gloom of the valley and the +obscurity of approaching night would not allow him to distinguish her +features. + +Just as he was stooping closer over her with a feeling of painful +doubt, a flash of lightning shot across the valley, he saw before him +a frightfully distorted countenance, and a hollow voice exclaimed, +"Give me a kiss, you enamoured swain!" Huldbrand sprang up with a +cry of horror, and the hideous figure rose with him. "Go home!" it +murmured; "wizards are on the watch. Go home, or I will have you!" and +it stretched out its long white arms toward him. + +"Malicious Kühleborn!" cried the knight, recovering himself. "Hey, +'tis you, you goblin? There, take your kiss!" And he furiously hurled +his sword at the figure. But it vanished like vapor, and a gush of +water which wetted him through left the knight in no doubt as to the +foe with whom he had been engaged. "He wishes to frighten me back from +Bertalda," said he aloud to himself; "he thinks to terrify me with his +foolish tricks, and to make me give up the poor distressed girl to him +so that he can wreak his vengeance on her. But he shall not do +that, weak spirit of the elements as he is. No powerless phantom +may understand what a human heart can do when its best energies are +aroused." He felt the truth of his words, and that the very expression +of them had inspired his heart with fresh courage. + +It seemed too as if fortune were on his side, for he had not reached +his fastened horse when he distinctly heard Bertalda's plaintive voice +not far distant, and could catch her weeping accents through the ever +increasing tumult of the thunder and tempest. He hurried swiftly +in the direction of the sound, and found the trembling girl just +attempting to climb the steep in order to escape in any way from the +dreadful gloom of the valley. He stepped, however, lovingly in her +path, and, bold and proud as her resolve had been before, she now felt +only too keenly the delight that the friend whom she so passionately +loved should rescue her from this frightful solitude, and that the +joyous life in the castle should be again open to her. She followed +almost unresisting, but so exhausted with fatigue that the knight +was glad to lead her to his horse, which he now hastily unfastened in +order to lift the fair fugitive upon it; and then, cautiously holding +the reins, he hoped to proceed through the uncertain shades of the +valley. + +But the horse had become quite unmanageable from the wild apparition +of Kühleborn. Even the knight would have had difficulty in mounting +the rearing and snorting animal, but to place the trembling Bertalda +on its back was perfectly impossible. They determined therefore to +return home on foot. Leading the horse after him by the bridle, the +knight supported the tottering girl with his other hand. Bertalda +exerted all her strength to pass quickly through the fearful valley, +but weariness weighed her down like lead and every limb trembled, +partly from the terror she had endured when Kühleborn had pursued her, +and partly from her continued alarm at the howling of the storm and +the pealing of the thunder through the wooded mountain. + +At last she slid from the supporting arm of her protector, and, +sinking down on the moss, exclaimed, "Let me lie here, my noble lord; +I suffer the punishment due to my folly, and I must now perish here +anyhow through weariness and dread." + +"No, sweet friend, I will never leave you!" cried Huldbrand, vainly +endeavoring to restrain his furious steed; for, worse than before, it +now began to foam and rear with excitement, till at last the knight +was glad to keep the animal at a sufficient distance from the +exhausted maiden to save her from increasing fear. But scarcely had he +withdrawn a few paces with the wild steed than she began to call after +him in the most pitiful manner, believing that he was really going to +leave her in this horrible wilderness. He was utterly at a loss what +course to take. Gladly would he have given the excited beast its +liberty and have allowed it to rush away into the night and spend +its fury, had he not feared that in this narrow defile it might come +thundering with its iron-shod hoofs over the very spot where Bertalda +lay. + +In the midst of this extreme perplexity and distress he heard with +delight the sound of a vehicle driving slowly down the stony road +behind them. He called out for help, and a man's voice replied, +promising assistance, but bidding him have patience; and, soon after, +two gray horses appeared through the bushes, and beside them the +driver in the white smock of a carter; a great white linen cloth was +next visible, covering the goods apparently contained in the wagon. At +a loud shout from their master the obedient horses halted. The driver +then came toward the knight and helped him restrain his foaming +animal. "I see well," said he, "what ails the beast. When I first +traveled this way my horses acted no better. The fact is, there is +an evil water-spirit haunting the place, and he takes delight in +this sort of mischief. But I have learned a charm; if you will let me +whisper it in your horse's ear he will stand at once just as quiet as +my gray beasts are doing there." + +"Try your luck then, only help us quickly!" exclaimed the impatient +knight. + +The wagoner then drew down the head of the rearing charger close to +his own, and whispered something in his ear. In a moment the animal +stood still and quiet, and his quick panting and reeking condition +were all that remained of his previous unmanageableness. Huldbrand had +no time to inquire how all this had been effected. He agreed with the +carter that he should take Bertalda on his wagon, where, as the man +assured him, there was a quantity of soft cotton bales upon which +she could be conveyed to Castle Ringstetten, and the knight was to +accompany them on horseback. But the horse appeared too much exhausted +by its past fury to be able to carry its master so far, so the Carter +persuaded Huldbrand to get into the wagon with Bertalda. The horse +could be tethered on behind. "We are going down hill," said he, "and +that will make it light for my gray beasts." The knight accepted +the offer and entered the wagon with Bertalda; the horse followed +patiently behind, and the wagoner, steady and attentive, walked by the +side. + +In the stillness of the night, as its darkness deepened and the +subsiding tempest sounded more and more remote, encouraged by +the sense of security and their fortunate escape a confidential +conversation arose between Huldbrand and Bertalda. With flattering +words he reproached her for her daring flight; she excused herself +with humility and emotion, and from every word she said a gleam shone +forth which disclosed distinctly to the lover that the beloved was +his. The knight felt the sense of her words far more than he regarded +their meaning, and it was the sense alone to which he replied. +Presently the wagoner suddenly shouted with a loud voice. "Up, my +grays, up with your feet, keep together! Remember who you are!" The +knight leaned out of the wagon and saw that the horses were stepping +into the midst of a foaming stream or were already almost swimming, +while the wheels of the wagon were rushing round and gleaming like +mill-wheels, and the wagoner had climbed up in front in consequence of +the increasing waters. + +"What sort of a road is this? It goes into the very middle of the +stream," cried Huldbrand to his guide. + +"Not at all, sir," returned the other laughing, "it is just the +reverse; the stream goes into the very middle of our road. Look round +and see how every thing is covered by the water." + +The whole valley indeed was suddenly filled with the surging flood, +that visibly increased. "It is Kühleborn, the evil water-spirit, who +wishes to drown us!" exclaimed the knight. "Have you no charm against +him, my friend?" + +"I know indeed of one," returned the wagoner, "but I cannot and may +not use it until you know who I am." + +"Is this a time for riddles?" cried the knight. "The flood is ever +rising higher, and what does it matter to me to know who you are?" + +"It does matter to you, though," said the wagoner, "for I am +Kühleborn." So saying, he thrust his distorted face into the wagon +with a grin, but the wagon was a wagon no longer, the horses were not +horses--all was transformed to foam and vanished in the hissing waves, +and even the wagoner himself, rising as a gigantic billow, drew down +the vainly struggling horse beneath the waters, and then, swelling +higher and higher, swept over the heads of the floating pair, like +some liquid tower, threatening to bury them irrecoverably. + +Just then the soft voice of Undine sounded through the uproar, the +moon emerged from the clouds, and by its light Undine was seen on +the heights above the valley. She rebuked, she threatened the floods +below; the menacing tower-like wave vanished, muttering and murmuring, +the waters flowed gently away in the moonlight, and, like a white +dove, Undine flew down from the height, seized the knight and +Bertalda, and bore them with her to a fresh, green, turfy spot on the +hill, where with choice refreshing restoratives she dispelled their +terrors and weariness; then she assisted Bertalda to mount the white +palfrey, on which she had herself ridden here, and thus all three +returned to Castle Ringstetten. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +The Journey to Vienna + + +After this last adventure they lived quietly and happily at the +castle. The knight more and more clearly perceived the heavenly +goodness of his wife, which had been so nobly exhibited by her pursuit +and her rescue in the Black Valley, where Kühleborn's power again +commenced; Undine herself felt that peace and security which is never +lacking to a mind so long as it is distinctly conscious of being on +the right path, and, besides, in the newly-awakened love and esteem of +her husband many a gleam of hope and joy shone upon her. Bertalda, on +the other hand, showed herself grateful, humble, and timid, without +regarding her conduct as anything meritorious. Whenever Huldbrand or +Undine were about to give her any explanation regarding the covering +of the fountain or the adventure in the Black Valley, she would +earnestly entreat them to spare her the recital, as she felt too much +shame at the recollection of the fountain and too much fear at the +remembrance of the Black Valley. She learned therefore nothing further +of either; and for what end was such knowledge necessary? Peace and +joy had visibly taken up their abode at Castle Ringstetten. They felt +secure on this point, and imagined that life could now produce nothing +but pleasant flowers and fruits. + +In this happy condition of things winter had come and passed away, and +spring with its fresh green shoots and its blue sky was gladdening +the joyous inmates of the castle. Spring was in harmony with them, +and they with spring; what wonder then that its storks and swallows +inspired them also with a desire to travel? One day when they were +taking a pleasant walk to one of the sources of the Danube, Huldbrand +spoke of the magnificence of the noble river, how it widened as it +flowed through countries fertilized by its waters, how the charming +city of Vienna shone forth on its banks, and how with every step of +its course it increased in power and loveliness. "It must be glorious +to go down the river as far as Vienna!" exclaimed Bertalda, but +immediately relapsing into her present modesty and humility she paused +and blushed deeply. + +This touched Undine deeply, and with the liveliest desire to give +pleasure to her friend she asked, "What hinders us from starting on +the little voyage?" Bertalda exhibited the greatest delight, and both +she and Undine began at once to picture in the brightest colors the +tour of the Danube. Huldbrand also gladly agreed to the prospect; only +he once whispered anxiously in Undine's ear, "But Kühleborn becomes +possessed of his power again out there!" + +"Let him come," she replied with a smile; "I shall be there, and he +ventures upon none of his mischief before me." The last impediment was +thus removed; they prepared for the journey, and soon after set out +upon it with fresh spirits and the brightest hopes. + +But wonder not, O man, if events always turn out different from what +we have intended! That malicious power, lurking for our destruction, +gladly lulls its chosen victim to sleep with sweet songs and golden +fairy tales; while on the other hand the rescuing messenger from +Heaven often knocks sharply and alarmingly at our door. + +During the first few days of their voyage down the Danube they were +extremely happy. Everything grew more and more beautiful, as they +sailed further and further down the proudly flowing stream. But in a +region, otherwise so pleasant, and in the enjoyment of which they had +promised themselves the purest delight, the ungovernable Kühleborn +began, undisguisedly, to exhibit his power, which started again at +this point. This was indeed manifested in mere teasing tricks, for +Undine often rebuked the agitated waves or the contrary winds, and +then the violence of the enemy would be immediately submissive; but +again the attacks would be renewed, and again Undine's reproofs +would become necessary, so that the pleasure of the little party was +completely destroyed. The boatmen too were continually whispering to +one another in dismay and looking with distrust at the three strangers +whose servants even began more and more to forebode something uncanny +and to watch their masters with suspicious glances. Huldbrand often +said to himself, "This comes from like not being linked with like, +from a man uniting himself with a mermaid!" Excusing himself, as we +all love to do, he would often think indeed as he said this, "I did +not really know that she was a sea-maiden. Mine is the misfortune that +every step I take is disturbed and haunted by the wild caprices of her +race; but mine is not the guilt." By such thoughts as these he felt +himself in some measure strengthened, but, on the other hand, he felt +increasing ill-humor and almost animosity toward Undine. He would look +at her with an expression of anger, the meaning of which the poor +wife understood well. Wearied with this exhibition of displeasure and +exhausted by the constant effort to frustrate Kühleborn's artifices, +she sank one evening into a deep slumber, rocked soothingly by the +softly gliding bark. + +Scarcely, however, had she closed her eyes when every one in the +vessel imagined he saw, in whatever direction he turned, a most +horrible human head; it rose out of the waves, not like that of a +person swimming, but perfectly perpendicular as if invisibly supported +upright on the watery surface and floating along in the same course +with the bark. Each wanted to point out to the other the cause of his +alarm, but each found the same expression of horror depicted on the +face of his neighbor, only that his hands and eyes were directed to a +different point where the monster, half laughing and half threatening, +rose before him. When, however, they all wished to make one another +understand what each saw, and all were crying out, "Look there--! +No--there!" the horrible heads all appeared simultaneously to their +view, and the whole river around the vessel swarmed with the most +hideous apparitions. The universal cry raised at the sight awoke +Undine. As she opened her eyes the wild crowd of distorted visages +disappeared. But Huldbrand was indignant at such unsightly jugglery. +He would have burst forth in uncontrolled imprecations had not Undine +said to him with a humble manner and a softly imploring tone, "For +God's sake, my husband, we are on the water; do not be angry with me +now." The knight was silent, and sat down absorbed in reverie. Undine +whispered in his ear, "Would it not be better, my love, if we gave up +this foolish journey and returned to Castle Ringstetten in peace?" + +But Huldbrand murmured moodily, "So I must be a prisoner in my own +castle and be able to breathe only so long as the fountain is closed! +I would your mad kindred--" Undine lovingly pressed her fair hand upon +his lips. He paused, pondering in silence over much that Undine had +before said to him. + +Bertalda had meanwhile given herself up to a variety of strange +thoughts. She knew a good deal of Undine's origin, and yet not the +whole, and the fearful Kühleborn especially had remained to her a +terrible but wholly unrevealed mystery. She had indeed never even +heard his name. Musing on these strange things, she unclasped, +scarcely conscious of the act; a gold necklace, which Huldbrand had +lately purchased for her of a traveling trader; half dreamingly she +drew it along the surface of the water, enjoying the light glimmer +it cast upon the evening-tinted stream. Suddenly a huge hand was +stretched out of the Danube, seizing the necklace and vanishing with +it beneath the waters. Bertalda screamed aloud, and a scornful laugh +resounded from the depths of the stream. The knight could now restrain +his anger no longer. Starting up, he inveighed against the river; he +cursed all who ventured to intrude upon his family and his life, and +challenged them, be they spirits or sirens, to show themselves before +his avenging sword. + +Bertalda wept meanwhile for her lost ornament, which was so precious +to her, and her tears added fuel to the flame of the knight's anger, +while Undine held her hand over the side of the vessel, dipping it +into the water, softly murmuring to herself, and only now and then +interrupting her strange mysterious whisper, as she entreated her +husband, "My dearly loved one, do not scold me here; reprove others +if you will, but not me here. You know why!" And indeed, he restrained +the words of anger that were trembling on his tongue. + +Presently in her wet hand which she had been holding under the waves +she brought up a beautiful coral necklace of so much brilliancy that +the eyes of all were dazzled by it. "Take this," said she, holding it +out kindly to Bertalda; "I have ordered this to be brought for you as +a compensation, and don't be grieved any more, my poor child." + +But the knight sprang between them. He tore the beautiful ornament +from Undine's hand, hurled it again into the river, exclaiming in +passionate rage, "Have you then still a connection with them? In the +name of all the witches, remain among them with your presents and +leave us mortals in peace, you sorceress!" Poor Undine gazed at him +with fixed but tearful eyes, her hand still stretched out as when she +had offered her beautiful present so lovingly to Bertalda. She then +began to weep more and more violently, like a dear innocent child, +bitterly afflicted. At last, wearied out, she said: "Alas, sweet +friend, alas! farewell! They shall do you no harm; only remain true, +so that I may be able to keep them from you. I must, alas, go away; I +must go hence at this early stage of life. Oh woe, woe! What have you +done! Oh woe, woe!" + +She vanished over the side of the vessel. Whether she plunged into the +stream or flowed away with it, they knew not; her disappearance was +like both and neither. Soon, however, she was completely lost sight of +in the Danube; only a few little waves kept whispering, as if sobbing, +round the boat, and they almost seemed to be saying: "Oh woe, woe! Oh, +remain true! Oh, woe!" + +Huldbrand lay on the deck of the vessel, bathed in hot tears, and a +deep swoon presently cast its veil of forgetfulness over the unhappy +man. + + + + +_WILHELM HAUFF_ + + * * * * * + + CAVALRYMAN'S MORNING SONG[47] (1826) + + + Crimson morn, + Shalt thou light me o'er Death's bourn? + Soon will ring the trumpet's call; + Then may I be marked to fall, + I and many a comrade brave! + Scarce enjoyed, + Pleasure drops into the void. + Yesterday on champing stallion; + Picked today for Death's battalion; + Couched tomorrow in the grave! + + Ah! how soon + Fleeth grace and beauty's noon! + Hast thou pride in cheeks aglow, + Whereon cream and carmine flow? + Ah! the loveliest rose turns sere! + Therefore still + I respond to God's high will. + To the last stern fight I'll fit me; + If to Death I must submit me, + Dies a dauntless cavalier! + + * * * * * + + THE SENTINEL[48] (1827) + + + Lonely at night my watch I keep, + While all the world is hush'd in sleep. + Then tow'rd my home my thoughts will rove; + I think upon my distant love. + +[Illustration: WILHELM HAUFF] + + When to the wars I march'd away, + My hat she deck'd with ribbons gay; + She fondly press'd me to her heart, + And wept to think that we must part. + +[Illustration: THE SENTINAL] + + Truly she loves me, I am sure, + So ev'ry hardship I endure; + My heart beats warm, though cold's the night; + Her image makes the darkness bright. + + Now by the twinkling taper's gleam, + Her bed she seeks, of me to dream, + But ere she sleeps she kneels to pray + For one who loves her far away. + + For me those tears thou needst not shed; + No danger fills my heart with dread; + The pow'rs who dwell in heav'n above + Are ever watchful o'er thy love. + + The bell peals forth from yon watch-tower; + The guard it changes at this hour. + Sleep well! sleep well! my heart's with thee; + And in your dreams remember me. + + + + +FRIEDRICH RÜCKERT + + * * * * * + + BARBAROSSA[49] (Between 1814 and 1817) + + + The ancient Barbarossa, + Friedrich, the Kaiser great, + Within the castle-cavern + Sits in enchanted state. + + He did not die; but ever + Waits in the chamber deep, + Where hidden under the castle + He sat himself to sleep. + + The splendor of the Empire + He took with him away, + And back to earth will bring it + When dawns the promised day. + + The chair is ivory purest + Whereof he makes his bed; + The table is of marble + Whereon he props his head. + + His beard, not flax, but burning + With fierce and fiery glow, + Right through the marble table + Beneath his chair does grow. + + He nods in dreams and winketh + With dull, half-open eyes, + And once a page he beckons beckons-- + A page that standeth by. + +[Illustration: FRIEDRICH RÜCKERT] + + He bids the boy in slumber + "O dwarf, go up this hour, + And see if still the ravens + Are flying round the tower; + + And if the ancient ravens + Still wheel above us here, + Then must I sleep enchanted + For many a hundred year." + + * * * * * + + FROM MY CHILDHOOD DAYS[50] (1817, 1818) + + + From my childhood days, from my childhood days, + Rings an old song's plaintive tone-- + Oh, how long the ways, oh, how long the ways + I since have gone! + + What the swallow sang, what the swallow sang, + In spring or in autumn warm-- + Do its echoes hang, do its echoes hang + About the farm? + + "When I went away, when I went away, + Full coffers and chests were there; + When I came today, when I came today, + All, all was bare!" + + Childish lips so wise, childish lips so wise, + With a lore as rich as gold, + Knowing all birds' cries, knowing all birds' cries, + Like the sage of old! + + Ah, the dear old place--ah, the dear old place * * * + May its sweet consoling gleam + Shine upon my face, shine upon my face, + Once in a dream! + + When I went away, when I went away, + Full of joy the world lay there; + When I came today, when I came today, + All, all was bare. + + Still the swallows come, still the swallows come, + And the empty chest is filled-- + But this longing dumb, but this longing dumb + Shall ne'er be stilled. + + Nay, no swallow brings, nay, no swallow brings + Thee again where thou wast before-- + Though the swallow sings, though the swallow sings, + Still as of yore. + + "When I went away, when I went away, + Full coffers and chests were there; + When I came today, when I came today, + All, all was bare!" + + * * * * * + + THE SPRING OF LOVE[51] (1821) + + + Dearest, thy discourses steal + From my bosom's deep, my heart + How can I from thee conceal + My delight, my sorrow's smart? + + Dearest, when I hear thy lyre + From its chains my soul is free. + To the holy angel quire + From the earth, O let us flee! + +[Illustration: MEMORIES OF YOUTH] + + Dearest, how thy music's charms + Waft me dancing through the sky! + Let me round thee clasp my arms, + Lest in glory I should die! + + Dearest, sunny wreaths I wear, + Twined around me by thy lay. + For thy garlands, rich and rare, + O how can I thank thee? Say! + + Like the angels I would be + Without mortal frame, + Whose sweet converse is like thought, + Sounding with acclaim; + + Or like flowers in the dale; + Like the stars that glow, + Whose love-song's a beam, whose words + Like sweet odors flow; + + Or like to the breeze of morn, + Waving round its rose, + In love's dallying caress + Melting as it blows. + + But the love-lorn nightingale + Melteth not away; + She doth but with longing tones + Chant her plaintive lay. + + I am, too, a nightingale, + Songless though I sing; + 'Tis my pen that speaks, though ne'er + In the ear it ring. + + Beaming images of thought + Doth the pen portray; + But without thy gentle smile + Lifeless e'er are they. + + As thy look falls on the leaf, + It begins to sing, + And the prize that's due to love + In her ear doth ring. + + Like a Memmon's statue now + Every letter seems, + Which in music wakes, when kissed + By the morning's beams. + + * * * * * + + "HE CAME TO MEET ME"[52] (1821) + + + He came to meet me + In rain and thunder; + My heart 'gan beating + In timid wonder. + Could I guess whither + Thenceforth together + Our path should run, so long asunder? + + He came to meet me + In rain and thunder, + With guile to cheat me-- + My heart to plunder. + Was't mine he captured? + Or his I raptured? + Half-way both met, in bliss and wonder! + + He came to meet me + In rain and thunder; + Spring-blessings greet me + Spring-blossoms under. + What though he leave me? + No partings grieve me-- + No path can lead our hearts asunder. + + * * * * * + THE INVITATION[53] (1821) + + + Thou, thou art rest + And peace of soul-- + Thou woundst the breast + And makst it whole. + + To thee I vow + 'Mid joy or pain + My heart, where thou + Mayst aye remain. + + Then enter free, + And bar the door + To all but thee + Forevermore. + + All other woes + Thy charms shall lull; + Of sweet repose + This heart be full. + + My worshipping eyes + Thy presence bright + Shall still suffice, + Their only light. + + * * * * * + + MURMUR NOT[54] + + + Murmur not and say thou art in fetters holden, + Murmur not that thou earth's heavy yoke must bear. + Say not that a prison is this world so golden-- + 'Tis thy murmurs only set its harsh walls there. + + Question not how shall this riddle find its reading; + It will solve itself full soon without thine aid. + Say not love hath turned his back, and left thee bleeding-- + Whom hath love deserted, hast thou heard it said? + + If death tries to fright thee, fear not beyond measure; + He will flee from those who boldly face his frown. + Hunt not thou the fleeting deer of worldly pleasure-- + Lion it will turn, and hunt the hunter down. + Chain thyself no longer, heart, to any treasure; + Then thou shalt not say thou art into fetters thrown. + + * * * * * + + A PARABLE[55] (1822) + + + In Syria walked a man one day + And led a camel on the way. + A sudden wildness seized the beast, + And as they strove its rage increased. + So fearsome grew its savagery + That for his life the man must flee. + And as he ran, he spied a cave + That one last chance of safety gave. + He heard the snorting beast behind + Come nearer--with distracted mind + Leaped where the cooling fountain sprang, + Yet not to fall, but catch and hang; + By lucky hap a bramble wild + Grew where the o'erhanging rocks were piled. + He saved himself by this alone, + And did his hapless state bemoan. + He looked above, and there was yet + Too close the furious camel's threat + That still of fearful rage was full. + He dropped his eyes toward the pool, + And saw within the shadows dim + A dragon's jaws agape for him-- + A still more fierce and dangerous foe + If he should slip and fall below. + So, hanging midway of the two, + He spied a cause of terror new: + Where to the rock's deep crevice clung + The slender root on which he swung, + A little pair of mice he spied, + A black and white one side by side-- + First one and then the other saw + The slender stem alternate gnaw. + They gnawed and bit with ceaseless toil, + And from the roots they tossed the soil. + As down it ran in trickling stream, + The dragon's eyes shot forth a gleam + Of hungry expectation, gazed + Where o'er him still the man was raised, + To see how soon the bush would fall, + The burden that it bore, and all. + That man in utmost fear and dread + Surrounded, threatened, hard bested, + In such a state of dire suspense + Looked vainly round for some defense. + And as he cast his bloodshot eye + First here, then there, saw hanging nigh + A branch with berries ripe and red; + Then longing mastered all his dread; + No more the camel's rage he saw, + Nor yet the lurking dragon's maw, + Nor malice of the gnawing mice, + When once the berries caught his eyes. + The furious beast might rage above, + The dragon watch his every move, + The mice gnaw on--naught heeded he, + But seized the berries greedily-- + In pleasing of his appetite + The furious beast forgotten quite. + + You ask, "What man could ever yet, + So foolish, all his fears forget?" + Then know, my friend, that man are you-- + And see the meaning plain to view. + The dragon in the pool beneath + Sets forth the yawning jaws of death; + The beast from which you helpless flee + Is life and all its misery. + There you must hang 'twixt life and death + While in this world you draw your breath. + The mice, whose pitiless gnawing teeth + Will let you to the pool beneath + Fall down, a hopeless castaway, + Are but the change of night and day. + The black one gnaws concealed from sight + Till comes again the morning light; + From dawn until the eve is gray, + Ceaseless the white one gnaws away. + And, 'midst this dreadful choice of ills, + Pleasure of sense your spirit fills + Till you forget the terrors grim + That wait to tear you limb from limb, + The gnawing mice of day and night, + And pay no heed to aught in sight + Except to fill your mouth with fruit + That in the grave-clefts has its root. + + * * * * * + + EVENING SONG[56] (1823) + + + I stood on the mountain summit, + At the hour when the sun did set; + I mark'd how it hung o'er the woodland + The evening's golden net. + + And, with the dew descending, + A peace on the earth there fell-- + And nature lay hushed in quiet, + At the voice of the evening bell. + + I said, "O heart, consider + What silence all things keep, + And with each child of the meadow + Prepare thyself to sleep! + + "For every flower is closing + In silence its little eye; + And every wave in the brooklet + More softly murmureth by. + + "The weary caterpillar + Hath nestled beneath the weeds; + All wet with dew now slumbers + The dragon-fly in the reeds. + + "The golden beetle hath laid him + In a rose-leaf cradle to rock; + Now went to their nightly shelter + The shepherd and his flock. + + "The lark from on high is seeking + In the moistened grass her nest; + The hart and the hind have laid them + In their woodland haunt to rest. + + "And whoso owneth a cottage + To slumber hath laid him down; + And he that roams among strangers + In dreams shall behold his own." + + And now doth a yearning seize me, + At this hour of peace and love, + That I cannot reach the dwelling, + The home that is mine, above. + + * * * * * + + CHIDHER[57] (1824) + + + Chidher, the ever youthful, told: + I passed a city, bright to see; + A man was culling fruits of gold, + I asked him how old this town might be. + He answered, culling as before + "This town stood ever in days of yore, + And will stand on forevermore!" + Five hundred years from yonder day + I passed again the selfsame way, + + And of the town I found no trace; + A shepherd blew on a reed instead; + His herd was grazing on the place. + "How long," I asked, "is the city dead?" + He answered, blowing as before + "The new crop grows the old one o'er, + This was my pasture evermore!" + Five hundred years from yonder day + I passed again the selfsame way. + + A sea I found, the tide was full, + A sailor emptied nets with cheer; + And when he rested from his pull, + I asked how long that sea was here. + Then laughed he with a hearty roar + "As long as waves have washed this shore + They fished here ever in days of yore." + Five hundred years from yonder day + I passed again the selfsame way. + + I found a forest settlement, + And o'er his axe, a tree to fell, + I saw a man in labor bent. + How old this wood I bade him tell. + "'Tis everlasting, long before + I lived it stood in days of yore," + He quoth; "and shall grow evermore." + Five hundred years from yonder day + I passed again the selfsame way. + + I saw a town; the market-square + Was swarming with a noisy throng. + "How long," I asked, "has this town been there? + Where are wood and sea and shepherd's song?" + They cried, nor heard among the roar + "This town was ever so before, + And so will live forevermore!" + "Five hundred years from yonder day + I want to pass the selfsame way." + + * * * * * + + AT FORTY YEARS[58] (1832) + + + When for forty years we've climbed the rugged mountain, + We stop and backward gaze; + Yonder still we see our childhood's peaceful fountain, + And youth exulting strays. + + One more glance behind, and then, new strength acquiring, + Staff grasped, no longer stay; + See, a further slope, a long one, still aspiring + Ere downward turns the way! + + Take a brave long breath and toward the summit hie thee-- + The goal shall draw thee on; + When thou think'st it least, the destined end is nigh thee-- + Sudden, the journey's done! + + * * * * * + + BEFORE THE DOORS[59] + + + I went to knock at Riches' door; + They threw me a farthing the threshold o'er. + + To the door of Love did I then repair-- + But fifteen others already were there. + + To Honor's castle I took my flight-- + They opened to none but to belted knight. + + The house of Labor I sought to win-- + But I heard a wailing sound within. + + To the house of Content I sought the way-- + But none could tell me where it lay. + + One quiet house I yet could name, + Where last of all, I'll admittance claim; + + Many the guests that have knocked before, + But still--in the grave--there's room for more. + +[Illustration: AUGUST GRAF VON PLATEN-HALLERMUND] + + + + + +_AUGUST VON PLATEN-HALLERMUND_ + + * * * * * + + THE PILGRIM BEFORE ST. JUST'S[60] (1819) + + + 'Tis night, and tempests whistle o'er the moor; + Oh, Spanish father, ope the door! + Deny me not the little boon I crave, + Thine order's vesture, and a grave! + Grant me a cell within thy convent-shrine-- + Half of this world, and more, was mine; + The head that to the tonsure now stoops down + Was circled once by many a crown; + The shoulders fretted now with shirt of hair + Did once the imperial ermine wear. + Now am I as the dead, e'er death is come, + And sink in ruins like old Rome. + + * * * * * + + THE GRAVE OF ALARIC[61] (1820) + + + On Busento's grassy banks a muffled chorus echoes nightly, + While the swirling eddies answer and the wavelets ripple lightly. + + Up and down the river, shades of Gothic warriors watch are keeping, + For they mourn their people's hero, Alaric, with sobs of weeping. + + All too soon and far from home and kindred here to rest they laid him, + While in youthful beauty still his flowing golden curls arrayed him. + + And along the river's bank a thousand hands with eager striving + Labored long, another channel for Busento's tide contriving. + + Then a cavern deep they hollowed in the river-bed depleted, + Placed therein the dead king, clad in proof, upon his charger seated. + + O'er him and his proud array the earth they filled, and covered loosely, + So that on their hero's grave the water-plants would grow profusely. + + And again the course they altered of Busento's waters troubled; + In its ancient channel rushed the current--foamed, and hissed, and bubbled. + + And the Goths in chorus chanted: "Hero, sleep! Tiny fame immortal + Roman greed shall ne'er insult, nor break thy tomb's most sacred portal!" + + Thus they sang, and paeans sounded high above the fight's commotion; + Onward roll, Busento's waves, and bear them to the farthest ocean! + + * * * * * + + REMORSE[62] (1820) + + + How I started up in the night, in the night, + Drawn on without rest or reprieval! + The streets with their watchmen were lost to my sight, + As I wandered so light + In the night, in the night, + Through the gate with the arch medieval. + +[Illustration: THE MORNING HOUR] + + The mill-brook rushed from its rocky height; + I leaned o'er the bridge in my yearning; + Deep under me watched I the waves in their flight, + As they glided so light + In the night, in the night, + Yet backward not one was returning. + + O'erhead were revolving, so countless and bright, + The stars in melodious existence; + And with them the moon, more serenely bedight; + They sparkled so light + In the night, in the night, + Through the magical, measureless distance. + + And upward I gazed in the night, in the night, + And again on the waves in their fleeting; + Ah woe! thou hast wasted thy days in delight; + Now silence, thou light, + In the night, in the night, + The remorse in thy heart that is beating. + + * * * * * + + WOULD I WERE FREE AS ARE MY DREAMS[63] (1822) + + + Would I were free as are my dreams, + Sequestered from the garish crowd + To glide by banks of quiet streams + Cooled by the shadow-drifting cloud! + + Free to shake off this weary weight + Of human sin, and rest instead + On nature's heart inviolate-- + All summer singing o'er my head! + + There would I never disembark, + Nay, only graze the flowery shore + To pluck a rose beneath the lark, + Then go my liquid way once more, + + And watch, far off, the drowsy lines + Of herded cattle crop and pass, + The vintagers among the vines, + The mowers in the dewy grass; + + And nothing would I drink or eat + Save heaven's clear sunlight and the spring + Of earth's own welling waters sweet, + That never make the pulses sting. + + * * * * * + + SONNET[64] (1822) + + + Oh, he whose pain means life, whose life means pain, + May feel again what I have felt before; + Who has beheld his bliss above him soar + And, when he sought it, fly away again; + Who in a labyrinth has tried in vain, + When he has lost his way, to find a door; + Whom love has singled out for nothing more + Than with despondency his soul to bane; + Who begs each lightning for a deadly stroke, + Each stream to drown the heart that cannot heal + From all the cruel stabs by which it broke; + Who does begrudge the dead their beds like steel + Where they are safe from love's beguiling yoke-- + He knows me quite, and feels what I must feel. + + + + +FOOTNOTES: + + +[Footnote 1: From Addresses on Religion (Discourse IV).] + +[Footnote 2: This refers to the second book, which takes the form of a +dialogue between the inquirer and a Spirit.] + +[Footnote 3: An allusion to the second book.] + +[Footnote 4: The audience gathered in the building of the Royal +Academy at Berlin.--ED.] + +[Footnote 5: J.G. Hamann. _Hellenistische Briefe_ I, 189.] + +[Footnote 6: Goethe. _Werke_ (1840) xxx., 352. Mr. Ward's translation +of Goethe's "Essays on Art," p. 76.] + +[Footnote 7: Selections translated by Margarete Münsterberg.] + +[Footnote 8: Permission George Bell & Son, London.] + +[Footnote 9: Translator: H.W. Dulcken. Permission Ward, Lock & Company, +Ltd., London.] + +[Footnote 10: Translator: Margarete Münsterberg.] + +[Footnote 11: Translator: C.T. Brooks.] + +[Footnote 12: Translator: Herman Montagu Donner.] + +[Footnote 13: Translator: C.T. Brooks.] + +[Footnote 14: Translator: Margarete Münsterberg.] + +[Footnote 15: Translator: Margarete Münsterberg.] + +[Footnote 16: Translator: Margarete Münsterberg.] + +[Footnote 17: Translator: C.T. Brooks.] + +[Footnote 18: Translator: W.W. Skeat.] + +[Footnote 19: Translator: Henry W. Longfellow.] + +[Footnote 20: Translator: C.T. Brooks.] + +[Footnote 21: Translator: Percy Mackaye.] + +[Footnote 22: Translator: Alfred Baskerville.] + +[Footnote 23: Translator: W.W. Skeat. From _Representative German +Poems_, Henry Holt & Co., New York.] + +[Footnote 24: Translator: W.W. Skeat. From _Representative German +Poems_, Henry Holt & Co., New York.] + +[Footnote 25: Translator: H.W. Dulcken. Permission Ward, Lock & +Company, Ltd., London.] + +[Footnote 26: Translator: W.H. Furness.] + +[Footnote 27: Translator: Margarete Münsterberg] + +[Footnote 28: Translator: Margarete Münsterberg.] + +[Footnote 29: Translator: A.I. du P. Coleman.] + +[Footnote 30: Translator: Margarete Münsterberg.] + +[Footnote 31: Translator: C.T. Brooks.] + +[Footnote 32: Translator: W.H. Furness.] + +[Footnote 33: Translator: Henry W. Longfellow. From _Representative +German Poems_, Henry Holt & Co., New York.] + +[Footnote 34: Translator: Kate Freiligrath-Kroeker. Permission William +Heinemann, London.] + +[Footnote 35: Translator: C.G. Leland. From _Representative German +Poems_, Henry Holt & Co., New York.] + +[Footnote 36: Translator: Alfred Baskerville.] + +[Footnote 37: Translator: Alfred Baskerville.] + +[Footnote 38: Translator: A.I. du P. Coleman] + +[Footnote 39: Translator: Alfred Baskerville] + +[Footnote 40: Translators: Bayard Taylor and Lilian Bayard Taylor +Kiliani. From _A Sheaf of Poems_, permission R.G. Badger, Boston.] + +[Footnote 41: Translator: A.I. du P. Coleman.] + +[Footnote 42: Translator: A.I. du P. Coleman.] + +[Footnote 43: From the _Foreign Quarterly_] + +[Footnote 44: Chapters 2, 6, 8.] + +[Footnote 45: An imaginary musical enthusiast of whom Hoffmann has +written much; under the fiery, sensitive, wayward character of this +crazy bandmaster, presenting, it would seem, a shadowy likeness +of himself. The _Kreisleriana_ occupy a large space among these +_Fantasy-pieces_; and Johannes Kreisler is the main figure in _Kater +Murr_, Hoffmann's favorite but unfinished work. In the third and last +volume, Kreisler was to end, not in composure and illumination, as the +critics would have required, but in utter madness: a sketch of a wild, +flail-like scarecrow, dancing vehemently and blowing soap-bubbles, and +which had been intended to front the last title-page, was found +among Hoffmann's papers, and engraved and published in his _Life and +Remains_.] + +[Footnote 46: Permission Bernhard Tauchnitz, Leipzig.] + +[Footnote 47: Translator: Herman Montagu Donner.] + +[Footnote 48: Translator: John Oxenford. From _Representative German +Poems_, Henry Holt & Co., New York.] + +[Footnote 49: Translators: Bayard Taylor and Lilian Bayard Taylor +Kiliani. + +From _A Sheaf of Poems_, permission R.G. Badger, Boston.] + +[Footnote 50: Translator: A.I. du P. Coleman. + +This is a working-over of an old popular song in imitation of the +swallow's cry, found in various dialect-forms in different parts of +Germany. The most widespread version is: + + Wenn ich wegzieh', wenn ich wegzieh', + Sind Kisten and Kasten voll!' + Wann ich wiederkomm', wann ich wiederkomm', + Ist alles verzehrt.] + +[Footnote 51: Translator: Alfred Baskerville.] + +[Footnote 52: Translator: Bayard Taylor. From _Representative German +Poems_, Henry Holt & Co., New York.] + +[Footnote 53: Translator: A.I. du P. Coleman.] + +[Footnote 54: Translator: A.I. du P. Coleman.] + +[Footnote 55: Translator: A.I. du P. Coleman.] + +[Footnote 56: Translator: H.W. Dulcken. From _Book of German Songs_, +permission Ward, Lock & Company, Ltd., London.] + +[Footnote 57: Translator: Margarete Münsterberg.] + +[Footnote 58: Translator: A.I. du P. Coleman.] + +[Footnote 59: Translator: H.W. Dulcken. Permission Ward, Lock & Company, +Ltd., London.] + +[Footnote 60: Translator: Lord Lindsay. From _Ballads, Songs and +Poems_.] + +[Footnote 61: Translators: Bayard Taylor and Lilian Bayard Taylor +Kiliani. From _A Sheaf of Poems_, permission R.G. Badger, Boston.] + +[Footnote 62: Translator: Henry W. Longfellow. From _Representative +German Poems_, Henry Holt & Co., New York.] + +[Footnote 63: Translator: Percy MacKaye.] + +[Footnote 64: Translator: Margarete Münsterberg.] + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The German Classics of the Nineteenth +and Twentieth Centuries: Masterpieces of German Literature Translated into English, Volume 5., by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GERMAN CLASSICS *** + +***** This file should be named 12888-0.txt or 12888-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/8/8/12888/ + +Produced by Stan Goodman, Leah Moser and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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\ No newline at end of file diff --git a/old/12888-0.zip b/old/12888-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0402de8 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12888-0.zip diff --git a/old/old/12888-8.txt b/old/old/12888-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..14b26b0 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/12888-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,18319 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The German Classics of the Nineteenth and +Twentieth Centuries: Masterpieces of German Literature Translated into English, Volume 5., by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries: + Masterpieces of German Literature Translated into English, Volume 5. + +Author: Various + +Release Date: July 12, 2004 [EBook #12888] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GERMAN CLASSICS *** + + + + +Produced by Stan Goodman, Leah Moser and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + +VOLUME V + +THE GERMAN CLASSICS + +Masterpieces of German Literature + +TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH + +Patrons' Edition IN TWENTY VOLUMES + +ILLUSTRATED + +1914 + + + + + +CONTRIBUTORS AND TRANSLATORS + +VOLUME V + + * * * * * + +Special Writers + + FRANK THILLY, PH.D., LL.D., Professor of Philosophy, Cornell + University: The Romantic Philosophers--Fichte, Schelling, and + Schleiermacher. + + GEORGE H. DANTON, PH.D., Professor of German, Butler College: Later + German Romanticism. + + +Translators + + PERCY MACKAYE, Dramatist and Poet: Departure; Would I were Free as + are My Dreams. + + A.I. DU P. COLEMAN, A.M., Professor of English Literature, College + of the City of New York: Taillefer; The Lion's Bride; The Crucifix; + The Old Singer; From My Childhood Days; The Invitation; A Parable; + At Forty Years; etc. + + MARGARETE MÜNSTERBERG: Selections from The Boy's Magic Horn; Union + Song; The Mother Tongue; Spring Greeting to the Fatherland; Freedom; + Charlemagne's Voyage; Chidher; etc. + + HERMAN MONTAGU DONNER: Lützow's Wild Band; Cavalryman's Morning + Song. + + LOUIS H. GRAY, PH.D.: Addresses to the German Nation. + + FREDERIC H. HEDGE: The Destiny of Man; The Wonderful History of + Peter Schlemihl; The Golden Pot. + + GEORGE RIPLEY: On the Social Element in Religion. + + J. ELLIOT CABOT: On the Relation of the Plastic Arts to Nature. + + MRS. A.L.W. WISTER: From the Life of a Good-for-nothing. + + MARGARET HUNT: The Frog King, or Iron Henry; The Wolf and the Seven + Little Kids; Rapunzel; Haensel and Grethel; The Fisherman and His + Wife. + + F.E. BUNNETT: Selections from Undine. + + H.W. DULCKEN: Song of the Fatherland; The White Hart; Evening Song; + Before the Doors. + + C.T. BROOKS: Men and Knaves; Prayer During Battle; Song of the + Mountain Boy; The Chapel; etc. + + W.W. SKEAT: The Shepherd's Sang on the Lord's Day; The Hostess' + Daughter; The Good Comrade. + + W.H. FURNESS: The Lost Church; The Minstrel's Curse. + + HENRY W. LONGFELLOW: The Luck of Edenhall; Remorse; The Castle by + the Sea. + + KATE FREILIGRATH-KROEKER: On the Death of a Child. + + C.G. LELAND: The Broken Ring. + + ALFRED BASKERVILLE: Morning Prayer; The Castle of Boncourt; Woman's + Love and Life; The Spring of Love; etc. + + BAYARD TAYLOR and LILIAN BAYARD TAYLOR KILIANI: The Women of + Weinsberg; Barbarossa; the Grave of Alaric. + + JOHN OXENFORD: The Sentinel. + + LORD LINDSAY: The Pilgrim Before St. Just's. + + BAYARD TAYLOR: He Came to Meet Me. + + + + +CONTENTS OF VOLUME V + + The Romantic Philosophers--Fichte, Schelling, and Schleiermacher. + By Frank Thilly + + + Friedrich Schleiermacher + + On the Social Element in Religion. Translated by George Ripley + + + Johann Gottlieb Fichte + + The Destiny of Man. Translated by Frederic H. Hedge + Addresses to the German Nation. Translated by Louis H. Gray + + + Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph von Schelling + + On the Relation of the Plastic Arts to Nature. Translated by J. Elliot + Cabot + + * * * * * + + Later German Romanticism. By George H. Danton + + + Ludwig Achim von Arnim and Clemens Brentano + + The Boy's Magic Horn. Selections translated by Margarete Münsterberg. + Were I a Little Bird + The Mountaineer + As Many as Sand-grains in the Sea + The Swiss Deserter + The Tailor in Hell + The Reaper + + + Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm + + Fairy Tales. Translated by Margaret Hunt. + The Frog King, or Iron Henry + The Wolf and the Seven Little Kids + Rapunzel + Haensel and Grethel + The Fisherman and His Wife + + + Ernst Moritz Arndt + + Song of the Fatherland. Translated by H.W. Dulcken + Union Song. Translated by Margarete Münsterberg + + + Theodor Körner + + Men and Knaves. Translated by C.T. Brooks + Lützow's Wild Band. Translated by Herman Montagu Donner + Prayer During Battle. Translated by C.T. Brooks + + + Maximilian Gottfried von Schenkendorf + + The Mother Tongue. Translated by Margarete Münsterberg + Spring Greeting to the Fatherland. Translated by Margarete Münsterberg + Freedom. Translated by Margarete Münsterberg + + + Ludwig Uhland + + The Chapel. Translated by C.T. Brooks + The Shepherd's Song on the Lord's Day. Translated by W.W. Skeat + The Castle by the Sea. Translated by Henry W. Longfellow + Song of the Mountain Boy. Translated by C.T. Brooks + Departure. Translated by Percy MacKaye + Farewell. Translated by Alfred Baskerville + The Hostess' Daughter. Translated by W.W. Skeat + The Good Comrade. Translated by W.W. Skeat + The White Hart. Translated by H.W. Dulcken + The Lost Church. Translated by W.H. Furness + Charlemagne's Voyage. Translated by Margarete Münsterberg + Free Art. Translated by Margarete Münsterberg + Taillefer. Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman + Suabian Legend. Translated by Margarete Münsterberg + The Blind King. Translated by C.T. Brooks + The Minstrel's Curse. Translated by W.H. Furness + The Luck of Edenhall. Translated by Henry W. Longfellow + On the Death of a Child. Translated by Kate Freiligrath-Kroeker + + + Joseph von Eichendorff + + The Broken Ring. Translated by C.G. Leland + Morning Prayer. Translated by Alfred Baskerville + From the Life of a Good-for-nothing. Translated by Mrs. A.L.W. Wister + + + Adalbert von Chamisso + + The Castle of Boncourt. Translated by Alfred Baskerville + The Lion's Bride. Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman + Woman's Love and Life. Translated by Alfred Baskerville + The Women of Weinsberg. Translated by Bayard Taylor and Lilian Bayard Taylor Kiliani + The Crucifix. Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman + The Old Singer. Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman + The Old Washerwoman. From the _Foreign Quarterly_ + The Wonderful History of Peter Schlemihl. Translated by Frederic H. Hedge + + + Ernst Theodor Amadeus Hoffmann + + The Golden Pot. Translated by Frederic H. Hedge + + + Friedrich Baron de la Motte-Fouqué + + Selections from Undine. Translated by F.E. Bunnett + + + Wilhelm Hauff + + Cavalryman's Morning Song. Translated by Herman Montagu Donner + The Sentinel. Translated by John Oxenford + + + Friedrich Rückert + + Barbarossa. Translated by Bayard Taylor and Lilian Bayard Taylor Kiliani + From My Childhood Days. Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman + The Spring of Love. Translated by Alfred Baskerville + He Came to Meet Me. Translated by Bayard Taylor + The Invitation. Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman + Murmur Not. Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman + A Parable. Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman + Evening Song. Translated by H.W. Dulcken + Chidher. Translated by Margarete Münsterberg + At Forty Years. Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman + Before the Doors. Translated by H.W. Dulcken + + + August von Platen-Hallermund + + The Pilgrim Before St. Just's. Translated by Lord Lindsay + The Grave of Alaric. Translated by Bayard Taylor and Lilian Bayard Taylor Kiliani + Remorse. Translated by Henry W. Longfellow + Would I were Free as are My Dreams. Translated by Percy MacKaye + Sonnet. Translated by Margarete Münsterberg + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS--VOLUME V + + Heidelberg + Friedrich Schleiermacher. By E. Hader + The Three Hermits. By Moritz von Schwind + Johann Gottlieb Fichte. By Bury + Volunteers of 1813 before King Friedrich Wilhelm III in Breslau. By F.W. Scholtz + Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph von Schelling. By Carl Begas + The Jungfrau. By Moritz von Schwind + The Magic Horn. By Moritz von Schwind + Ludwig Achim von Arnim. By Ströhling + Clemens Brentano. By E. Linder + The Reaper. By Walter Crane + Wilhelm Grimm. By E. Hader + Jacob Grimm. By E. Hader + Hänsel and Gretel. By Ludwig Richter + Ernst Moritz Arndt. By Julius Röting + Theodor Körner. By E. Hader + Maximilian Gottfried von Schenkendorf + Ludwig Uhland. By C. Jäger + The Villa by the Sea. By Arnold Böcklin + Leaving at Dawn. By Moritz von Schwind + Joseph von Eichendorff. By Franz Kugler + Adalbert von Chamisso. By C. Jäger + The Wedding Journey. By Moritz von Schwind + Ernst Theodor Amadeus Hofmann. By Hensel + Friedrich Baron de la Motte-Fouqué + Wilhelm Hauff. By E. Hader + The Sentinel. By Robert Haug + Friedrich Rückert. By C. Jäger + Memories of Youth. By Ludwig Richter + August Graf von Platen-Hallermund + The Morning Hour. By Moritz von Schwind + + + + +THE ROMANTIC PHILOSOPHERS--FICHTE, SCHELLING, AND SCHLEIERMACHER + +By FRANK THILLY, PH.D., LL.D. Professor of Philosophy, Cornell +University + + +The Enlightenment of the eighteenth century had implicit faith in +the powers of human reason to reach the truth. With its +logical-mathematical method it endeavored to illuminate every nook and +corner of knowledge, to remove all obscurity, mystery, bigotry, and +superstition, to find a reason for everything under the sun. Nature, +religion, the State, law, morality, language, and art were brought +under the searchlight of reason and reduced to simple and self-evident +principles. Human institutions were measured according to their +reasonableness; whatever was not rational had no _raison d'être_; +to demolish the natural and historical in order to make room for +the rational became the practical ideal of the day. Enlightenment +emphasized the worth and dignity of the human individual, it sought to +deliver him from the slavery of authority and tradition, to make him +self-reliant in thought and action, to obtain for him his natural +rights, to secure his happiness and perfection in a world expressly +made for him, and to guarantee the continuance of his personal +existence in the life to come. In Germany this great movement found +expression in a popular commonsense philosophy which proved the +existence of God, freedom, and immortality, and conceived the universe +as a rational order designed by an all-wise and all-good Creator for +the benefit of man, his highest product; while other thinkers regarded +Spinozism as the only rational system, indeed as the last word of all +speculative metaphysics; for them logical thought necessarily led to +pantheism and determinism. In France, after reaching its climax in +Voltaire, it ended in materialism, atheism, and fatalism; and in +England, where it had developed the empiricism of Locke, it came to +grief in the scepticism of Hume. If we can know only our impressions, +then rational theology, cosmology, and psychology are impossible, and +it is futile to philosophize about God, the world, and the human soul. +Consistently carried out, the logical-mathematical method seemed to +land the intellect in Spinozism or in materialism--in either case to +catch man in the causal machinery of nature. In this dilemma many were +tempted to throw reason overboard as an instrument of ultimate +truth, and to seek for certainty through other functions of the human +soul--in feeling, faith, or mystical vision of some sort; the claims +of the heart and will were urged against the proud pretensions of the +intellect (Hamann, Herder, Jacobi). Another way of escape was found +by substituting the organic conception of reality for the +logical-mathematical view of the _Aufklärung_; nature and life, +poetry, art, language, political, social, and religious institutions +are not creations of reason, not things made to order, but +organic--products of evolution (Lessing, Herder, Winckelmann, Goethe). +Man, himself, moreover, is not mere intellect, but a being in whom +feelings, impulses, yearnings, will, are elements to be reckoned with. +And reality is not as transparent as the Enlightenment assumed it to +be; existence divided by reason leaves a remainder, as Goethe had put +it. + +It was Immanuel Kant who tried to arbitrate between the conflicting +tendencies of his age. He was an _Aufklärer_ in so far as he brought +reason itself to the bar of reason and sat in judgment upon its +claims, and, likewise, in so far as he insisted on the objective +validity of physics and mathematics. But he was as much opposed to +the pretentiousness of dogmatic metaphysics as to the pusillanimity +of scepticism and the _Schwärmerei_ of mysticism. He repudiated the +shallow proofs of the existence of God, freedom, and immortality +no less emphatically than he rejected materialism with its +atheism, fatalism, and hedonism. He tried to save everything worth +saving--rational knowledge, modern science, the basal truths of +the old metaphysics, and the most precious human values. For +the scientific intelligence, so he held, nature and the self are +absolutely determined; every physical occurrence and every human act +are necessary links in a causal chain. But such knowledge is +possible only in the field of phenomena (_Erscheinungen_); through +sense-perception and the discursive understanding we cannot reach the +inner core of reality; nor can we pierce the veil of appearances by +means of intellectual intuitions, mystical visions, feeling, or faith, +i.e., through the emotional and instinctive parts of our nature. It is +the presence of the moral law or categorical imperative within us that +points to a spiritual world beyond the phenomenal causal order and +assures us of our freedom, immortality, and God. It is because we +possess this deeper source of truth in practical reason that freedom +and an ideal kingdom in which purpose reigns are vouchsafed to us, and +that we can free ourselves from the mechanism of the natural order. +It is moral truth that both sets us free and demonstrates our freedom, +and that makes harmony possible between the mechanical theory of +science and the teleological conception of philosophy. The scientific +understanding would plunge us into determinism and agnosticism; from +these, faith in the moral law alone can deliver us. In this sense +Kant destroyed knowledge to make room for a rational faith in a +supersensible world, to save the independence and dignity of the human +self and the spiritual values of his people. In claiming a place +for the autonomous personality in what _appeared to be_ a mechanical +universe, Kant gave voice to some of the deeper yearnings of the age. +The German Enlightenment, the new humanism, mysticism, pietism, +and the faith-philosophy were all interested in the human soul, and +unwilling to sacrifice it to the demands of a rationalistic science or +metaphysics. In seeking to rescue it, the great criticist, piloted by +the moral law, steered his course between the rocks of rationalism, +sentimentalism, and scepticism. It was his solution of the controversy +between the head and the heart that influenced Fichte, Schelling, and +Schleiermacher. They differed from Kant and among themselves in many +respects, but they all glorified the spirit, _Geist_, as the living, +active element of reality, and they all rejected the intellect as +the source of ultimate truth. They followed him in his +anti-intellectualism, but they did not avoid, as he did, the +attractive doctrine of an inner intuition; according to them we can +somehow grasp the supersensible in an inner experience which Fichte +called intellectual, Schelling artistic, Schleiermacher religious. The +bankruptcy of the intelligence was overcome in their systems by the +discovery of a faculty that revealed to them the living, dynamic +nature of the universe. They were all more or less influenced by the +romantic currents of the times, seeking with Herder and Jacobi an +approach to the heart of things other than through the categories +of logic. Like Lessing and Goethe, they were also attracted to +the pantheistic teaching of Spinoza, though rejecting its rigid +determinism so far as it might affect the human will. They likewise +accepted the idea of development which the leaders of German +literature, Lessing, Herder, and Goethe, had already opposed to the +unhistorical _Aufklärung_, and which came to play such a prominent +part in the great system of Hegel. + +Johann Gottlieb Fichte was born in Ramenau, Oberlausitz, May 19, 1762, +the son of a poor weaver. Through the generosity of a nobleman, +the gifted lad was enabled to follow his intellectual bent; after +attending the schools at Meissen and Schulpforta he studied theology +at the universities of Jena, Leipzig, and Wittenberg with the purpose +of entering the ministry. His poverty frequently compelled him to +interrupt his studies by accepting private tutorships in families, so +that he never succeeded in preparing him self for the examinations. In +1790 he became acquainted with Kant's philosophy, which two students +had asked him to expound to them, and to which he now devoted himself +with feverish zeal. It revolutionized his entire mode of thought and +determined the course of his life. The anonymous publication of his +book, _Attempt at a Critique of all Revelation_, in 1792, written +from the Kantian point of view and mistaken at first for a work of +the great criticist, won him fame and a professorship at Jena (1794). +Here, in the intellectual centre of Germany, Fichte became the +eloquent exponent of the new idealism, which aimed at the reform of +life as well as of _Wissenschaft_; he not only taught philosophy, but +_preached_ it, as Kuno Fischer has aptly said. During the Jena +period he laid the foundations for his "Science of Knowledge" +(_Wissenschaftslehre_) which he presented in numerous works: _The +Conception of the Science of Knowledge_, 1794; _The Foundation of +the Entire Science of Knowledge_, 1794; _The Foundation of Natural +Rights_, 1796; _The System of Ethics_, 1798--(all these translated by +Kroeger); the two _Introductions to the Science of Knowledge_, 1797 +(trans. by Kroeger in _Journal of Speculative Philosophy_). The +appearance of an article _Concerning the Ground of our Belief in a +Divine World-Order_, 1798, in which Fichte seemed to identify God with +the moral world-order, brought down upon him the charge of atheism, +against which he vigorously defended himself in his _Appeal to the +Public_ and a series of other writings. Full of indignation over the +attitude which his government assumed in the matter, be offered his +resignation (1799) and removed to Berlin, where he presented his +philosophical notions in popular public lectures and in writings which +were characterized by clearness, force, and moral earnestness rather +than by their systematic form. There appeared: _The Vocation of Man_, +1800 (translated by Dr. Smith); _A Sun-Clear Statement concerning the +Nature of the New Philosophy_, 1801 (trans. by Kroeger in _Journal of +Speculative Philosophy_); _The Nature of the Scholar_, 1806 (trans. by +Smith); _Characteristics of the Present Age_, 1806 (trans. by Smith); +_The Way towards the Blessed Life_, 1806 (trans. by Smith). After the +overthrow of Prussia by Napoleon, in 1806, Fichte fled from Berlin to +Königsberg and Sweden, but returned when peace was declared in +1807, and delivered his celebrated _Addresses to the German Nation_, +1807-08, in which he sought to arouse the German people to a +consciousness of their national mission and their duty even while the +French army was still occupying the Prussian capital. + +Fichte was appointed professor of philosophy (1810) in the new +University of Berlin, for which he had been invited to construct a +plan and in the establishment of which he took a lively interest. +During the last period of his life he devoted himself to the +development of his thoughts in systematic form and wrote a number of +books; most of these were published after his death, which occurred +January 27, 1814. Among them we mention: _General Outline of +the Science of Knowledge_, 1810 (trans. by Smith); _The Facts of +Consciousness_, 1813; _Theory of the State_, published 1820. The +Complete Works, edited by his son, J.H. Fichte, appeared 1843-46. New +editions of particular works are now appearing. + +The world for Fichte is at bottom a spiritual order, the revelation +of a self-determining ego or reason; hence the science of the ego, or +reason, the _Wissenschaftslehre_, is the key to all knowledge, and we +can understand nature and man only when we have caught the secret +of the self-active ego. Philosophy must, therefore, be +_Wissenschaftslehre_, for in it all natural and mental sciences find +their ultimate roots; they can yield genuine knowledge only when +and in so far as they are based on the principles of the Science of +Knowledge--mere empirical sciences having no real cognitive value. +The ego-principle itself, however, without which there could be no +knowledge, cannot be grasped by the ordinary discursive understanding +with its spatial, temporal, and causal categories. Kant is right: if +we were limited to the scientific intellect, we could never rise above +the conception of a phenomenal order absolutely ruled by the causal +law. But there is another source of knowledge: in an act of inner +vision or intellectual intuition, which is itself an act of freedom, +we become conscious of the universal moral purpose; the law of duty or +the categorical imperative commands us to be free persons. We cannot +refuse to accept this law without abandoning ourselves as persons, +without conceiving ourselves as _things_, or mere products of nature; +the choice of one's philosophy, therefore, depends upon what kind of +man one is--upon one's values, upon one's will. The type of man who +is a slave of things, who cannot raise himself out of the causal +mechanism, who is not free, will never be able to conceive himself +otherwise than as a cog in a wheel. Fichte accepts the ego, or spirit, +as the ultimate and absolute principle, because it alone can give our +life worth and meaning. Thus he grounds his entire philosophy upon a +moral imperative which presents itself to the ego in an inner vision. +He also tells us that we can become immediately aware of the +pure activity of the ego, of our free action, in a similar act of +intellectual intuition. But we cannot know this free act unless we +perform it ourselves; no one can understand the idealistic philosophy +who is not free; hence philosophy begins with an act of freedom--_im +Anfang war die Tat_. + +In order that we may rise to free action, opposition is needed, and +this we get in the spatial-temporal world of phenomena, or nature, +which the ego creates for itself in order to have resistance to +overcome. Fichte conceives of nature as "the material of our duty," +as the obstacle against which the ego can exercise its freedom. There +could be no free action without something to act upon, and there could +be no purposive action without a world in which everything happens +according to law; and such a causal world we have in our phenomenal +order, which is the product of the absolute spiritual principle. +By the ego Fichte did not mean the subjective ego, the particular +individual self with all its idiosyncrasies, but the universal ego, +the reason that manifests itself in all conscious individuals as +universal and necessary truth. In his earlier period he did not define +his thought very carefully, but in time the absolute ego came to be +conceived as the principle of all life and consciousness, as +universal life, and ultimately identified with God. His philosophy is, +therefore, not subjective idealism, although it was so misinterpreted, +but objective idealism; nature is not the creation of the particular +individual ego, but the phenomenal expression, or reflection, in the +subject of the universal spiritual principle. + +Upon such an idealistic world-view Fichte based the ethical teachings +through which he exercised a lasting influence upon the German people +and the history of human thought. The universal ego is a moral ego, +an ego with an ethical purpose, that realizes itself in nature and in +man; it is, therefore, the vocation of man to obey the voice of duty +and to free himself from the bondage of nature, to be a person, not a +thing, to coöperate in the realization of the eternal purpose which +is working itself out in the history of humanity, to sacrifice himself +for the ideal of freedom. Every individual has his particular place in +which to labor for the social whole; how to do it, his conscience will +tell him without fail. And so, too, the German people has its peculiar +place in civilization, its unique contribution to make in the struggle +of the human race for the development of free personality. It is +Germany's mission to regain its nationality, in order that it may +take the philosophical leadership in the work of civilization, and to +establish a State based upon personal liberty, a veritable kingdom +of justice, such as has never appeared on earth, which shall realize +freedom based upon the equality of all who bear the human form. + +The Fichtean philosophy holds the mirror up to its age. With the +Enlightenment it glorifies reason, the free personality, nationality, +humanity, civilization, and progress; in this regard it expresses the +spirit of all modern philosophy. It goes beyond the _Aufklärung_ in +emphasizing the living, moving, developing nature of reality; for it, +life and consciousness constitute the essence of things, and universal +life reveals itself in a progressive history of mankind. Moreover, +the dynamic spiritual process cannot be comprehended by conceptual +thought, by the categories of a rationalistic science and philosophy, +but only by itself, by the living experience of a free agent. In the +categorical imperative, and not in logical reasonings, the individual +becomes aware of his destiny; in the sense of duty, the love of truth, +loyalty to country, respect for the rights of man, and reverence for +ideals, spirit speaks to spirit and man glimpses the eternal. + +Among the elements in this idealism that appealed to the Romanticists +were its anti-intellectualism, its intuition, the high value it placed +upon the personality, its historical viewpoint, and its faith in the +uniqueness of German culture. They welcomed the _Wissenschaftslehre_ +as a valuable ally, and exaggerated those features of it which seemed +to chime with their own views. The ego which Fichte conceives as +universal reason becomes for them the subjective empirical self, the +unique personality, in which the unconscious, spontaneous, impulsive, +instinctive phase constitutes the original element, the more +extravagant among them transforming the rational moral ego into a +romantic ego, an ego full of mystery and caprice, and even a lawless +ego. Such an ego is read into nature; for, filled with occult magic +forces, nature can be understood only by the sympathetic divining +insight of the poetic genius. And so, too, authority and tradition, as +representing the instinctive and historical side of social life, come +into their own again. + +Fichte's chief interest was centred upon the ego; nature he regarded +as a product of the absolute ego in the individual consciousness, +intended as a necessary obstacle for the free will. Without opposition +the self cannot act; without overcoming resistance it cannot become +free. In order to make free action possible, to enable the ego to +realize its ends, nature must be what it is, an order ruled by the +iron law of causality. This cheerless conception of nature--which, +however, was not Fichte's last word on the subject, since he afterward +came to conceive it as the revelation of universal life, or the +expression of a pantheistic God--did not attract Romanticism. It was +Schelling, the erstwhile follower and admirer of Fichte, who turned +his attention to the philosophy of nature and so more thoroughly +satisfied the romantic yearnings of the age. + +Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph Schelling was born at Leonberg, Würtemberg, +January 27, 1775, the son of a learned clergyman and writer on +theology. He was a precocious child and made rapid progress in his +studies, entering the Theological Seminary at Tübingen at the age of +fifteen. Between the ages of nineteen and twenty-two he wrote a +number of able treatises in the spirit of the new idealism, and +was recognized as the most talented pupil of Fichte and his best +interpreter. After the completion of his course at the University +(1795), he became the tutor and companion of two young noblemen with +whom he remained for two years (1796-98) at the University of Leipzig, +during which time he devoted himself to the study of mathematics, +physics, and medicine, and published a number of philosophical +articles. In 1798 he received a call to a professorship at Jena, where +Fichte, Schiller, Wilhelm Schlegel, and Hegel became his colleagues, +and where he entered into friendly relations with the Romantic circle +of which Caroline Schlegel, who afterward became his wife, was a +shining light. This was the most productive period of his life; during +the next few years he developed his own system of philosophy and +gave to the world his most brilliant writings. In 1803 he accepted +a professorship at Würzburg, but came into conflict with the +authorities; in 1806 he went to Munich as a member of the Academy of +Sciences and Director of the Academy of Fine Arts; in 1820 he moved to +Erlangen; and in 1827 he returned to Munich as professor of philosophy +at the newly-established University and as General Curator of the +Scientific Collections of the State. He was called to Berlin in 1841 +to help counteract the influence of the Hegelian Philosophy, but met +with little success. He died in 1854. + +The earlier writings of Schelling either reproduced the thoughts of +the _Wissenschaftslehre_ or developed them in the Fichtean spirit. +Among those of the latter class we note: _Ideas for a Philosophy of +Nature_, 1797; _On the World-Soul_, 1798; _System of Transcendental +Idealism_, 1800. During the second period, in which the influence of +Bruno and Spinoza is prominent, he works out his own philosophy of +identity; at this time he publishes _Bruno, or, Concerning the Natural +and Divine Principle of Things_, 1802, and _Method of Academic Study_, +1803. In the third period the philosophy of identity becomes the basis +for a still higher system in which the influence of German theosophy +(Jacob Böhme) is apparent; with the exception of _Philosophy and +Religion_, 1804, the _Treatise on Human Freedom_, 1809, and a +few others, the works of this period did not appear until after +Schelling's death. His previous philosophy is now called by him +"negative philosophy;" the higher or positive philosophy has as its +aim the rational construction of the history of the universe, or the +history of creation, upon the basis of the religious ideas of peoples; +it is a philosophy of mythology and revelation. Translations of some +of Schelling's works are to be found in the _Journal of Speculative +Philosophy_, an American periodical founded by W.T. Harris, which +devoted itself to the study of post-Kantian idealism. His Complete +Works, edited by his son, appeared in 14 volumes, 1856. There is a +revival of interest in his philosophy, and new editions of his books +are now being published. + +Like most philosophers of note, Schelling reckons with the various +tendencies of his times. With idealism he interprets the universe as +identical in essence with what we find in our innermost selves; it is +at bottom a living dynamic process. If that is so, nature cannot be +a merely externalized obstacle for the ego, nor a dead static spatial +mechanical system; as the expression of an active spiritual principle +there must be reason and purpose in it. But reason is not identified +by Schelling with self-conscious intelligence, for with the +faith-philosophies and Romanticism he takes it in a wider sense; in +physical and organic nature it is a slumbering reason, an unconscious, +instinctive, purposive force similar to the Leibnizian monad, +Schopenhauer's will, and Bergson's _élan vital_. In this way the +dualism between mechanism and teleology is reconciled. Nature is +a teleological order, an evolution from the unconscious to the +conscious; in man, the highest stage and the climax of history, nature +becomes self-conscious. With this organic conception both Romanticists +and many natural scientists of the age were in practical agreement; +it was the view that had always appealed to Goethe--and Herder before +him--and it gained for Schelling a large following. In his earlier +system he regarded nature as a lower stage in the evolution of +reason and sought to answer the problems: How does Nature become +Consciousness or Ego? the problem of the Philosophy of Nature; and, +How does Consciousness or the Ego become Nature? the problem of +Transcendental Idealism. In his philosophy of identity, nature and +mind are conceived as two different aspects of one and the same +principle, which is both mind and nature, subject and object, ego and +non-ego. All things are identical in essence but differentiated in the +course of evolution. It was not inconsistent with these tenets that +Schelling sought, in his last period, to discover the meaning +of universal history in the obscure beginnings of mythology +and revelation rather than in the lucid regions of an advanced +civilization. + +With the opponents of rationalism Schelling agrees that we cannot +reach the inner meaning of reality, "the living, moving element +in nature," through the scientific intelligence, but that we must +envisage it in intuition. "What is described in concepts," he tells +us, "is at rest; hence there can be concepts only of _things_ and of +that which is finite and sense-perceived. The notion of movement is +not movement itself, and without intuition we should never know what +motion is. Freedom, however, can be comprehended only by freedom, +activity only by activity." Schelling, who is a poet as well as a +philosopher, comes to regard this intuition or inner vision as an +artistic intuition. In the products of art, subject and object, the +ideal and the real, mind and nature, form (or purpose) and matter, +are one; here the harmony aimed at by philosophy lies before our very +eyes, and may be seen, touched, and heard. The creative artist creates +like nature in realizing the ideal; hence, art must serve as the +absolute model for the intuition of the world--it is the true and +eternal organ of philosophy. Like the artistic genius, the philosopher +must have the faculty for perceiving the harmony and identity in the +universe; esthetic intuition is absolute knowing. Art aims to reveal +to us the profoundest meaning of the world, which is the union of form +and matter, of the ideal and the real; in art alone the striving of +nature for harmony and identity is realized; the beautiful is the +infinite represented and made perceivable in finite form; here mind +and nature interpenetrate. In creative art the artist imitates the +creative act of nature and becomes conscious of it; in esthetic +intuition, or the perception of beauty, the philosophical genius +discovers the secret of reality; nature herself is a poem and her +secret is revealed in art. This philosophy is a far cry from the +logical-mathematical method of the _Aufklärung_; it is a protest +against this, a protest in which the leaders of the new German +literature, Herder, Goethe, Schiller, as well as the Romanticists, +willingly joined. Goethe's entire view of nature, art, and life rested +upon the teleological or organic conception; he, too, regarded the +ability to peer into the heart of things--to see the whole in its +parts, the ideal in the real, the universal in the particular, as +the poet's and thinker's highest gift. He called it an _aperçu_, "a +revelation springing up in the inner man that gives him a hint of +his likeness to God." It is this gift which Faust craves and Mephisto +sneers at as _die hohe Intuition_. + + Dass ich erkenne was die Welt + Im innersten zusammenhält, + Schau alle Wirkungskraft and Samen + Und tu' nicht mehr in Worten kramen. + +There was much that was fantastic in the _Naturphilosophie_ and much +_a priori_ interpretation of nature that tended to withdraw the +mind from the actualities of existence; it often dealt with bold +assertions, analogies, and figures of speech, rather than with facts +and proofs. But it had its merits; for it aroused an interest in +nature and nature-study, it kept alive the _philosophical_ interest +in the outer world, the desire for unity, _Einheitstrieb_, which has +remained a marked characteristic of German science from Alexander von +Humboldt down to Robert Mayer, Helmholtz, Naegeli, Haeckel, Ostwald, +Hertz, and Driesch. It opposed the one-sided mechanical method of +science, and emphasized conceptions (the idea of development, +the notion of the dynamic character of reality, pan-psychism, and +vitalism) which are still moving the minds of men today, as is +evidenced by the popularity of Henri Bergson, who, with our own +William James, leads the contemporary school of philosophical +Romanticists. + +Fichte's chief contribution to German thought was the +_Wissenschaftslehre_, Schelling's the _Naturphilosophie_, and +Schleiermacher's the philosophy of religion. All these thinkers took +account of the prevailing tendencies of the times--_Aufklärung_, +Kantian criticism, faith-philosophy, Romanticism, and Spinozism--and +were more or less affected by them. Schleiermacher also came under the +influence of Fichte, Schelling, and Greek idealism, particularly +of Plato's philosophy; many were the sources from which he drew his +material for the construction of a great system of Protestant theology +that exercised a profound influence far beyond the boundaries of his +country and won for him the title of the founder of the New Theology. + +Friedrich Daniel Ernst Schleiermacher, the son of a clergyman of +the reformed church, was born at Breslau, November 21, 1768, and was +educated at the Moravian schools at Niesky and Barby. Made sceptical +by the newer criticism, he left the Moravian brotherhood and entered +the University of Halle (1787), where he devoted himself with equal +zeal to the study of theology and philosophy. After his ordination +in 1794 he occupied various pulpits until 1803, when he was made a +professor and university preacher at Halle. In 1806 he removed from +Halle to Berlin, becoming the preacher of Trinity Church in 1809 +and professor of theology at the newly founded University in 1810, +positions which he filled with marked ability until his death, +February 12, 1834. It was in Berlin that he came into friendly touch +with the leaders of the Romantic school, Tieck, Friedrich Schlegel, +and Novalis, but he did not allow himself to be carried away by their +extravagances. He distinguished himself as a preacher, theologian, +philosopher, and philologist, and, by his study of the sources of +philosophy, added much to the knowledge of its history. Among the +books published during his life-time are: _Addresses on Religion_, +1799; _Monologues_, 1800; _Principles of a Criticism of Previous +Systems of Ethics_, 1803; translations of Plato's _Dialogues_, with +introductions and notes, 1804-28; _The Christian Faith_, 1821-22. +Complete Works, 1834-64. + +Schleiermacher's conception of religion is opposed to the +rationalistic theology of the eighteenth century, as well as to the +Kantian moral theology which has remained popular in Germany to +this day. For him religion is not science or philosophy; it does +not consist in theoretical dogmas or rationalistic proofs; neither +theories about religion nor virtuous conduct nor acts of worship are +religion itself; nor is religion based upon a rational moral faith, +as Kant had taught. He bravely took the part of Fichte in the +atheism-controversy, when the great leaders of German culture, Kant, +Herder, and even Goethe, abandoned him to his fate. He rejected +the shallow proofs of the _Aufklärung_, as well as the orthodox +utilitarian view of God as the dispenser of rewards and punishments, +and showed that the real foes of religion were the rational and +practical persons who endeavored to suppress the yearning for the +transcendent in man and to drive out all mystery in seeking to make +everything clear to him. We cannot have conceptual knowledge of God, +for conceptual thought is concerned with differences and opposites, +whereas God is without such differences and oppositions: he is the +absolute union or identity of thought and being. Religion is grounded +in feeling, or divining intuition; in feeling, we come into direct +relation with God; here the identity of thought and being is +immediately experienced in self-consciousness, and this union is the +divine element in us. Religion is the feeling of absolute dependence +upon an absolute world-ground; it is the immediate consciousness that +everything finite is infinite and exists through the infinite. + +The conception of God as the unity of thought and being, and the idea +of man's absolute dependence upon the world-ground, call to mind the +pantheism of Spinoza. Schleiermacher seeks to tone this down by giving +the world of things a relative independence; God and the world are +inseparable, and yet must be distinguished. God is unity without +plurality, the world plurality without unity; the world is +spatial-temporal, while God is spaceless and timeless. He is, however, +not conceived as a personality, but as the universal creative force, +as the source of all life. The determinism implied in this world-view +is softened by giving the individual a measure of freedom and +independence. The particular individuals are subject to the law of +the whole; but each self has its unique endowment or gifts, its +individuality, and its freedom consists in the unfolding of its +peculiar capacities. With Goethe, Schiller, and Romanticism, our +philosopher rejects the rigoristic Kantian-Fichtean view of duty +which, in his opinion, would suppress individuality and reduce all +persons to a homogeneous mass; like them he regards the development +of unique personalities as the highest moral task. "Every man should +express humanity in his own peculiar way in a unique mixture of +elements, in order that it may reveal itself in every possible form, +and that everything may become real in the infinite fulness which +can spring from its lap." "The same duties can be performed in many +different ways. Different men may practise justice according to the +same principles, each man keeping in view the general welfare and +personal merit, but with different degrees of feeling, all the +way from extreme coldness to the warmest sympathy." The command, +therefore, is not merely: Be a person; but: Be a unique person, live +your own individual life. There is no irreconcilable conflict between +the natural law and the moral law, between impulse and reason. For the +same reasons he defends the diversity of religions and the claims of +personal religion; in each unique individual, religion should be left +free to express itself in its own unique and intimate way. His ideal +is the development of unique, novel, original personalities; and these +are expressions of the divine, which rationalism cannot bring under +either its theoretical or practical rubrics. + +The individual cannot become conscious of, and prize, his own +individuality without at the same time valuing uniqueness in +others; the higher a value he sets upon his own self, the more +the personalities of others must impress him. "Whoever desires to +cultivate his individuality must have an appreciation of everything +that he is not." "The sense of universality (_der allgemeine Sinn_) is +the supreme condition of one's own perfection." Hence the ethical +life is a life in society--a society of unique individuals who respect +humanity in its uniqueness, in themselves and in others. "They are +among themselves a chorus of friends. Every one knows that he too is +a part and product of the universe, that in him too are revealed +its divine life and action." "The more every one approximates the +universe, the more he communicates himself to others, the more perfect +unity will they all form; no one has a consciousness for himself +alone, every one has, at the same time, that of the other; they are no +longer only men, but mankind; rising above themselves and triumphing +over themselves, they are on the road to true immortality and +eternity." In the feeling of piety man recognizes that his desire to +be a unique personality is in harmony with the action of the universe; +hence that he can, ought, and must make the development of his +uniqueness the goal, the strongest motive, and the highest good, +and that he can surely realize what he is striving for, because the +universe which created and determined him created him for that. + + + + +_FRIEDRICH SCHLEIERMACHER_ + + * * * * * + +ON THE SOCIAL ELEMENT IN RELIGION (1799) [1] + +TRANSLATED BY GEORGE RIPLEY + + +Those among you who are accustomed to regard religion as a disease +of the human mind, cherish also the habitual conviction that it is an +evil more easily borne, even though not to be cured, so long as it is +only insulated individuals here and there who are infected with +it; but that the common danger is raised to the highest degree, +and everything put at stake, as soon as a too close connection is +permitted between many patients of this character. In the former +case it is possible by a judicious treatment, as it were by an +antiphlegistic regimen, and by a healthy spiritual atmosphere, to ward +off the violence of the paroxysms; and if not entirely to conquer the +exciting cause of the disease, to attenuate it to such a degree that +it shall be almost innocuous. But in the latter case we must despair +of every other means of cure, except that which may proceed from some +internal beneficent operation of Nature. For the evil is attended with +more alarming symptoms, and is more fatal in its effects, when the too +great proximity of other infected persons feeds and aggravates it in +every individual; the whole mass of vital air is then quickly poisoned +by a few; the most vigorous frames are smitten with the contagion; +all the channels in which the functions of life should go on are +destroyed; all the juices of the system are decomposed; and, seized +with a similar feverous delirium, the sound spiritual life and +productions of whole ages and nations are involved in irremediable +ruin. Hence your antipathy to the church, to every institution +which is intended for the communication of religion, is always more +prominent than that which you feel to religion itself; hence, also, +priests, as the pillars and the most efficient members of such +institutions, are, of all men, the objects of your greatest +abomination. + +Even those among you who hold a little more indulgent opinion with +regard to religion, and deem it rather a singularity than a disorder +of the mind, an insignificant rather than a dangerous phenomenon, +cherish quite as unfavorable impressions of all social organization +for its promotion. A slavish immolation of all that is free and +peculiar, a system of lifeless mechanism and barren ceremonies--these, +they imagine, are the inseparable consequences of every such +institution and are the ingenious and elaborate work of men, who, with +almost incredible success, have made a great merit of things which are +either nothing in themselves, or which any other person was quite as +capable of accomplishing as they. I should pour out my heart but very +imperfectly before you, on a subject to which I attach the utmost +importance, if I did not undertake to give you the correct point +of view with regard to it. I need not here repeat how many of the +perverted endeavors and melancholy fortunes of humanity you charge +upon religious associations; this is clear as light, in a thousand +utterances of your predominant individuals; nor will I stop to refute +these accusations, one by one, in order to fix the evil upon other +causes. Let us rather submit the whole conception of the church to +a new examination, and from its central point, throughout its whole +extent, erect it again upon a new basis, without regard to what it has +actually been hitherto, or to what experience may suggest concerning +it. + +If religion exists at all, it must needs possess a social character; +this is founded not only in the nature of man, but still more in the +nature of religion. You will acknowledge that it indicates a state of +disease, a signal perversion of nature, when an individual wishes to +shut up within himself anything which he has produced and elaborated +by his own efforts. It is the disposition of man to reveal and to +communicate whatever is in him, in the indispensable relations +and mutual dependence not only of practical life, but also of his +spiritual being, by which he is connected with all others of his +race; and the more powerfully he is wrought upon by anything, the more +deeply it penetrates his inward nature, so much the stronger is this +social impulse, even if we regard it only from the point of view of +the universal endeavor to behold the emotions which we feel ourselves, +as they are exhibited by others, so that we may obtain a proof from +their example that our own experience is not beyond the sphere of +humanity. + +[Illustration: FRIEDRICH SCHLEIERMACHER] + +You perceive that I am not speaking here of the endeavor to make +others similar to ourselves, nor of the conviction that what is +exhibited in one is essential to all; it is merely my aim to ascertain +the true relation between our individual life and the common nature +of man, and clearly to set it forth. But the peculiar object of this +desire for communication is unquestionably that in which man feels +that he is originally passive, namely, his observations and emotions. +He is here impelled by the eager wish to know whether the power which +has produced them in him be not something foreign and unworthy. Hence +we see man employed, from his very childhood, in communicating those +observations and emotions; the conceptions of his understanding, +concerning whose origin there can be no doubt, he allows to rest in +his own mind, and still more easily he determines to refrain from +the expression of his judgments; but whatever acts upon his senses, +whatever awakens his feelings, of that he desires to obtain witnesses, +with regard to that he longs for those who will sympathize with him. +How should he keep to himself those very operations of the world upon +his soul which are the most universal and comprehensive, which appear +to him as of the most stupendous and resistless magnitude? How should +he be willing to lock up within his own bosom those very emotions +which impel him with the greatest power beyond himself, and in the +indulgence of which he becomes conscious that he can never understand +his own nature from himself alone? It will rather be his first +endeavor, whenever a religious view gains clearness in his eye, or a +pious feeling penetrates his soul, to direct the attention of others +to the same object, and, as far as possible, to communicate to their +hearts the elevated impulses of his own. + +If, then, the religious man is urged by his nature to speak, it is the +same nature which secures to him the certainty of hearers. There is no +element of his being with which, at the same time, there is implanted +in man such a lively feeling of his total inability to exhaust it by +himself alone, as with that of religion. A sense of religion has no +sooner dawned upon him, than he feels the infinity of its nature and +the limitation of his own; he is conscious of embracing but a small +portion of it; and that which he cannot immediately reach he wishes +to perceive, as far as he can, from the representations of others who +have experienced it themselves, and to enjoy it with them. Hence, +he is anxious to observe every manifestation of it; and, seeking +to supply his own deficiencies, he watches for every tone which +he recognizes as proceeding from it. In this manner, mutual +communications are instituted; in this manner, every one feels equally +the need both of speaking and hearing. + +But the imparting of religion is not to be sought in books, like +that of intellectual conceptions and scientific knowledge. The pure +impression of the original product is too far destroyed in this +medium, which, in the same way that dark-colored objects absorb the +greatest proportion of the rays of light, swallows up everything +belonging to the pious emotions of the heart, which cannot be embraced +in the insufficient symbols from which it is intended again to +proceed. Nay, in the written communications of religious feeling, +everything needs a double and triple representation; for that which +originally represented, must be represented in its turn; and yet +the effect on the whole man, in its complete unity, can only be +imperfectly set forth by continued and varied reflections. It is only +when religion is driven out from the society of the living, that it +must conceal its manifold life under the dead letter. + +Neither can this intercourse of heart with heart, on the deepest +feelings of humanity, be carried on in common conversation. Many +persons, who are filled with zeal for the interests of religion, have +brought it as a reproach against the manners of our age that, +while all other important subjects are so freely discussed in the +intercourse of society, so little should be said concerning God +and divine things. I would defend ourselves against this charge +by maintaining that this circumstance, at least, does not indicate +contempt or indifference toward religion, but a happy and very correct +instinct. In the presence of joy and merriment, where earnestness +itself must yield to raillery and wit, there can be no place for +that which should be always surrounded with holy veneration and awe. +Religious views, pious emotions, and serious considerations with +regard to them--these we cannot throw out to one another in such small +crumbs as the topics of a light conversation; and when the discourse +turns upon sacred subjects, it would rather be a crime than a virtue +to have an answer ready for every question, and a rejoinder for every +remark. Hence, the religious sentiment retires from such circles +as are too wide for it, to the more confidential intercourse of +friendship, and to the mutual communications of love, where the eye +and the countenance are more expressive than words, and where even a +holy silence is understood. But it is impossible for divine things +to be treated in the usual manner of society, where the conversation +consists in striking flashes of thought, gaily and rapidly alternating +with one another; a more elevated style is demanded for the +communication of religion, and a different kind of society, which is +devoted to this purpose, must hence be formed. It is becoming, indeed, +to apply the whole richness and magnificence of human discourse to the +loftiest subject which language can reach--not as if there were any +adornment, with which religion could not dispense, but because it +would show a frivolous and unholy disposition in its heralds if they +did not bring together the most copious resources within their power +and consecrate them all to religion, so that they might thus perhaps +exhibit it in its appropriate greatness and dignity. Hence it is +impossible, without the aid of poetry, to give utterance to the +religious sentiment in any other than an oratorical manner, with all +the skill and energy of language, and freely using, in addition, +the service of all the arts which can contribute to flowing and +impassioned discourse. He, therefore, whose heart is overflowing with +religion, can open his mouth only before an auditory, where that which +is presented, with such a wealth of preparation, can produce the most +extended and manifold effects. + +Would that I could present before you an image of the rich and +luxurious life in this city of God, when its inhabitants come together +each in the fulness of his own inspiration, which is ready to stream +forth without constraint, but, at the same time, each is filled with a +holy desire to receive and to appropriate to himself everything which +others wish to bring before him. If one comes forward before the rest, +it is not because he is entitled to this distinction, in virtue of an +office or of a previous agreement, nor because pride and conceitedness +have given him presumption; it is rather a free impulse of the spirit, +a sense of the most heartfelt unity of each with all, a consciousness +of entire equality, a mutual renunciation of all First and Last, of +all the arrangements of earthly order. He comes forward in order to +communicate to others, as an object of sympathizing contemplation, the +deepest feelings of his soul while under the influence of God; to lead +them to the domain of religion in which he breathes his native air; +and to infect them with the contagion of his own holy emotions. He +speaks forth the Divine which stirs his bosom, and in holy silence the +assembly follows the inspiration of his words. Whether he unveils a +secret mystery, or with prophetic confidence connects the future with +the present; whether he strengthens old impressions by new examples, +or is led by the lofty visions of his burning imagination into other +regions of the world and into another order of things, the practised +sense of his audience everywhere accompanies his own; and when he +returns into himself from his wanderings through the kingdom of +God, his own heart and that of each of his hearers are the common +dwelling-place of the same emotion. + +If, now, the agreement of his sentiments with that which they feel be +announced to him, whether loudly or low, then are holy mysteries--not +merely significant emblems, but, justly regarded, natural indications +of a peculiar consciousness and peculiar feelings--invented and +celebrated, a higher choir, as it were, which in its own lofty +language answers to the appealing voice. But not only, so to speak; +for as such a discourse is music without tune or measure, so there +is also a music among the Holy, which may be called discourse without +words, the most distinct and expressive utterance of the inward man. +The Muse of Harmony, whose intimate relation with religion, although +it has been for a long time spoken of and described, is yet recognized +only by few, has always presented upon her altars the most perfect +and magnificent productions of her selectest scholars in honor of +religion. It is in sacred hymns and choirs, with which the words +of the poet are connected only by slight and airy bands, that those +feelings are breathed forth which precise language is unable to +contain; and thus the tones of thought and emotion alternate with each +other in mutual support, until all is satisfied and filled with the +Holy and the Infinite. Of this character is the influence of religious +men upon one another; such is their natural and eternal union. Do +not take it ill of them that this heavenly bond--the most consummate +product of the social nature of man, but to which it does not +attain until it becomes conscious of its own high and peculiar +significance--that this should be deemed of more value in their sight +than the political union which you esteem so far above everything +else, but which will nowhere ripen to manly beauty, and which, +compared with the former, appears far more constrained than free, far +more transitory than eternal. + +But where now, in the description which I have given of the community +of the pious, is that distinction between priests and laymen, which +you are accustomed to designate as the source of so many evils? A +false appearance has deceived you. This is not a distinction between +persons, but only one of condition and performance. Every man is a +priest, so far as he draws others around him, into the sphere which he +has appropriated to himself and in which he professes to be a master. +Every one is a layman, so far as he is guided by the counsel and +experience of another, within the sphere of religion, where he is +comparatively a stranger. There is not here the tyrannic aristocracy, +which you describe with such hatred; but this society is a priestly +people, a perfect republic, where every one is alternately ruler and +citizen, where every one follows the same power in another which he +feels also in himself, and with which he, too, governs others. + +How then could the spirit of discord and division--which you regard +as the inevitable consequence of all religious combinations--find a +congenial home within this sphere? I see nothing but that All is One, +and that all the differences which actually exist in religion, by +means of this very union of the pious, are gently blended with one +another. I have directed your attention to the different degrees +of religiousness, I have pointed out to you the different modes of +insight and the different directions in which the soul seeks for +itself the supreme object of its pursuit. Do you imagine that +this must needs give birth to sects, and thus destroy all free +and reciprocal intercourse in religion? It is true, indeed, in +contemplation, that everything which is separated into various parts +and embraced in different divisions, must be opposed and contradictory +to itself; but consider, I pray you, how Life is manifested in a great +variety of forms, how the most hostile elements seek out one another +here, and, for this very reason, what we separate in contemplation all +flows together in life. They, to be sure, who on one of these points +bear the greatest resemblance to one another, will present the +strongest mutual attraction, but they cannot, on that account, compose +an independent whole; for the degrees of this affinity imperceptibly +diminish and increase, and in the midst of so many transitions there +is no absolute repulsion, no total separation, even between the most +discordant elements. Take which you will of these masses which have +assumed an organic form according to their own inherent energy; if +you do not forcibly divide them by a mechanical operation, no one +will exhibit an absolutely distinct and homogeneous character, but the +extreme points of each will be connected at the same time with those +which display different properties and properly belong to another +mass. + +If the pious individuals, who stand on the same degree of a lower +order, form a closer union with one another, there are yet some always +included in the combination who have a presentiment of higher things. +These are better understood by all who belong to a higher social class +than they understand themselves; and there is a point of sympathy +between the two which is concealed only from the latter. If those +combine in whom one of the modes of insight, which I have described, +is predominant, there will always be some among them who understand +at least both of the modes, and since they, in some degree, belong +to both, they form a connecting link between two spheres which would +otherwise be separated. Thus the individual who is more inclined to +cherish a religious connection between himself and nature, is yet by +no means opposed, in the essentials of religion, to him who prefers to +trace the footsteps of the Godhead in history; and there will never be +wanting those who can pursue both paths with equal facility. Thus in +whatever manner you divide the vast province of religion, you will +always come back to the same point. + +If unbounded universality of insight be the first and original +supposition of religion, and hence also, most naturally, its fairest +and ripest fruit, you perceive that it cannot be otherwise than that, +in proportion as an individual advances in religion and the character +of his piety becomes more pure, the whole religious world will +more and more appear to him as an indivisible whole. The spirit of +separation, in proportion as it insists upon a rigid division, is a +proof of imperfection; the highest and most cultivated minds always +perceive a universal connection, and, for the very reason that they +perceive it, they also establish it. Since every one comes in contact +only with his immediate neighbor, but, at the same time, has an +immediate neighbor on all sides and in every direction, he is, in +fact, indissolubly linked in with the whole. Mystics and Naturalists +in religion, they to whom the Godhead is a personal Being, and they +to whom it is not, they who have arrived at a systematic view of +the Universe, and they who behold it only in its elements or only in +obscure chaos--all, notwithstanding, should be only one, for one band +surrounds them all and they can be totally separated only by a violent +and arbitrary force; every specific combination is nothing but an +integral part of the whole; its peculiar characteristics are almost +evanescent, and are gradually lost in outlines that become more and +more indistinct; and at least those who feel themselves thus united +will always be the superior portion. + +Whence, then, but through a total misunderstanding, have arisen that +wild and disgraceful zeal for proselytism to a separate and peculiar +form of religion, and that horrible expression--"no salvation except +with us." As I have described to you the society of the pious, and as +it must needs be according to its intrinsic nature, it aims merely +at reciprocal communication, and subsists only between those who are +already in possession of religion, of whatever character it may be; +how then can it be its vocation to change the sentiments of those +who now acknowledge a definite system, or to introduce and consecrate +those who are totally destitute of one? The religion of this society, +as such, consists only in the religion of all the pious taken +together, as each one beholds it in the rest--it is Infinite; no +single individual can embrace it entirely, since so far as it is +individual it ceases to be one, and hence no man can attain such +elevation and completeness as to raise himself to its level. If any +one, then, has chosen a part in it for himself, whatever it may be, +were it not an absurd procedure for society to wish to deprive him of +that which is adapted to his nature--since it ought to comprise this +also within its limits, and hence some one must needs possess it? + +[Illustration: THE THREE HERMITS Moritz Von Schwind] + +And to what end should it desire to cultivate those who are yet +strangers to religion? Its own especial characteristic--the Infinite +Whole--of course it cannot impart to them; and the communication of +any specific element cannot be accomplished by the Whole, but only by +individuals. But perhaps then, the Universal, the Indeterminate, +which might be presented, when we seek that which is common to all +the members? Yet you are aware that, as a general rule, nothing can be +given or communicated, in the form of the Universal and Indeterminate, +for specific object and precise form are requisite for this purpose; +otherwise, in fact, that which is presented would not be a reality but +a nullity. Such a society, accordingly, can never find a measure or +rule for this undertaking. + +And how could it so far abandon its sphere as to engage in this +enterprise? The need on which it is founded, the essential principle +of religious sociability, points to no such purpose. Individuals unite +with one another and compose a Whole; the Whole rests in itself, +and needs not to strive for anything beyond. Hence, whatever is +accomplished in this way for religion is the private affair of the +individual for himself, and, if I may say so, more in his relations +out of the church than in it. Compelled to descend to the low grounds +of life from the circle of religious communion, where the mutual +existence and life in God afford him the most elevated enjoyment and +where his spirit, penetrated with holy feelings, soars to the highest +summit of consciousness, it is his consolation that he can connect +everything with which he must there be employed, with that which +always retains the deepest significance in his heart. As he descends +from such lofty regions to those whose whole endeavor and pursuit +are limited to earth, he easily believes--and you must pardon him the +feeling--that he has passed from intercourse with Gods and Muses to a +race of coarse barbarians. He feels like a steward of religion among +the unbelieving, a herald of piety among the savages; he hopes, like +an Orpheus or an Amphion, to charm the multitude with his heavenly +tones; he presents himself among them, like a priestly form, clearly +and brightly exhibiting the lofty, spiritual sense which fills his +soul, in all his actions and in the whole compass of his Being. If the +contemplation of the Holy and the Godlike awakens a kindred emotion in +them, how joyfully does he cherish the first presages of religion in +a new heart, as a delightful pledge of its growth even in a harsh and +foreign clime! With what triumph does he bear the neophyte with him to +the exalted assembly! This activity for the promotion of religion is +only the pious yearning of the stranger after his home, the endeavor +to carry his Fatherland with him in all his wanderings, and everywhere +to find again its laws and customs as the highest and most beautiful +elements of his life; but the Fatherland itself, happy in its own +resources, perfectly sufficient for its own wants, knows no such +endeavor. + + + + +_JOHANN GOTTLIEB FICHTE_ + + * * * * * + +THE DESTINY OF MAN (1800) + +ADAPTED FROM THE TRANSLATION BY FREDERIC H. HEDGE + +BOOK III: FAITH + + + * * * * * + +"Not merely to know, but to act according to thy knowledge, is thy +destination." So says the voice which cries to me aloud from my +innermost soul, so soon as I collect and give heed to myself for a +moment. "Not idly to inspect and contemplate thyself, nor to brood +over devout sensations--no! thou existest to act. Thine actions, and +only thine actions, determine thy worth." + + * * * * * + +Shall I refuse obedience to that inward voice? I will not do it. I +will choose voluntarily the destination which the impulse imputes to +me. And I will grasp, together with this determination, the thought of +its reality and truth, and of the reality of all that it presupposes. +I will hold to the viewpoint of natural thinking, which this impulse +assigns to me, and renounce all those morbid speculations and +refinements of the understanding which alone could make me doubt its +truth. I understand thee now, sublime Spirit![2] I have found the +organ with which I grasp this reality, and with it, probably, all +other reality. Knowledge is not that organ. No knowledge can prove +and demonstrate itself. Every knowledge presupposes a higher as its +foundation, and this upward process has no end. It is Faith, that +voluntary reposing in the view which naturally presents +itself, because it is the only one by which we can fulfil our +destination--this it is that first gives assent to knowledge, and +exalts to certainty and conviction what might otherwise be mere +illusion. It is not knowledge, but a determination of the will to +let knowledge pass for valid. I hold fast, then, forever to this +expression. It is not a mere difference of terms, but a real +deep-grounded distinction, exercising a very important influence on +my whole mental disposition. All my conviction is only faith, and is +derived from a disposition of the mind, not from the understanding. + + * * * * * + +There is only one point to which I have to direct incessantly all my +thoughts: What I must do, and how I shall most effectually accomplish +what is required of me. All my thinking must have reference to my +doing--must be considered as means, however remote, to this end. +Otherwise, it is an empty, aimless sport, a waste of time and power, +and perversion of a noble faculty which was given me for a very +different purpose. + +I may hope, I may promise myself with certainty, that when I think +after this manner, my thinking shall be attended with practical +results. Nature, in which I am to act, is not a foreign being, +created without regard to me, into which I can never penetrate. It is +fashioned by the laws of my own thought, and must surely coincide with +them. It must be everywhere transparent, cognizable, permeable to +me, in its innermost recesses. Everywhere it expresses nothing but +relations and references of myself to myself; and as certainly as +I may hope to know myself, so certainly I may promise myself that I +shall be able to explore it. Let me but seek what I have to seek, +and I shall find. Let me but inquire whereof I have to inquire, and I +shall receive answer. + +[Illustration: JOHANN GOTTLIEB FICHTE] + + + + +I + + +That voice in my interior, which I believe, and for the sake of which +I believe all else that I believe, commands me not merely to act in +the abstract. That is impossible. All these general propositions +are formed only by my voluntary attention and reflection directed to +various facts; but they do not express a single fact of themselves. +This voice of my conscience prescribes to me with certainty, in each +particular situation of my existence, what I must do and what I must +avoid in that situation. It accompanies me, if I will but listen to it +with attention, through all the events of my life, and never refuses +its reward where I am called to act. It establishes immediate +conviction, and irresistibly compels my assent. It is impossible for +me to contend against it. + +To harken to that voice, honestly and dispassionately, without +fear and without useless speculation to obey it--this is my sole +destination, this the whole aim of my existence. My life ceases to +be an empty sport, without truth or meaning. There is something to be +done, simply because it must be done--namely, that which conscience +demands of me who find myself in this particular position. I exist +solely in order that it may be fulfilled. To perceive it, I have +understanding; to do it, power. + +Through these commandments of conscience alone come truth and reality +into my conceptions. I cannot refuse attention and obedience to them +without renouncing my destination. I cannot, therefore, withhold my +belief in the reality which they bring before me, without, at the same +time, denying my destination. It is absolutely true, without +further examination and demonstration--it is the first truth and the +foundation of all other truth and certainty--that I must obey that +voice. Consequently, according to this way of thinking, everything +becomes true and real for me which the possibility of such obedience +presupposes. + +There hover before me phenomena in space, to which I transfer the idea +of my own being. I represent them to myself as beings of my own kind. +Consistent speculation has taught me or will teach me that these +supposed rational beings, without me, are only products of my own +conception; that I am necessitated, once for all, by laws of thought +which can be shown to exist, to represent the idea of myself out +of myself, and that, according to the same laws, this idea can be +transferred only to certain definite perceptions. But the voice of +my conscience cries to me: "Whatever these beings may be in and for +themselves, thou shalt treat them as subsisting for themselves, as +free, self-existing beings, entirely independent of thyself. Take +it for granted that they are capable of proposing to themselves aims +independently of thee, by their own power. Never disturb the execution +of these, their designs, but further them rather, with all thy might. +Respect their liberty. Embrace with love their objects as thine +own." So must I act. And to such action shall, will, and must all my +thinking be directed, if I have but formed the purpose to obey the +voice of my conscience. Accordingly, I shall ever consider those +beings as beings subsisting for themselves, and forming and +accomplishing aims independently of me. From this viewpoint, I cannot +consider them in any other light; and the above-mentioned speculation +will vanish like an empty dream before my eyes. "I _think_ of them as +beings of my own species," said I just now; but strictly, it is not a +thought by which they are first represented to me as such. It is the +voice of conscience, the command: "Here restrain thy liberty, +here suppose and respect foreign aims." This it is which is first +translated into the thought: "Here is surely and truly, subsisting +of itself, a being like me." To consider them otherwise, I must first +deny the voice of my conscience in life and forget it in speculation. + +There hover before me other phenomena which I do not consider as +beings like myself, but as irrational objects. Speculation finds it +easy to show how the conception of such objects develops itself purely +from my power of conception and its necessary modes of action. But +I comprehend these same things also through need and craving and +enjoyment. It is not the conception--no, it is hunger and thirst and +the satisfaction of these that makes anything food and drink to me. +Of course, I am constrained to believe in the reality of that which +threatens my sensuous existence, or which alone can preserve it. +Conscience comes in, at once hallowing and limiting this impulse of +Nature. "Thou shalt preserve, exercise and strengthen thyself, and +thy sensuous power; for this sensuous power forms a part of the +calculation, in the plan of reason. But thou canst preserve it only +by a suitable use, agreeable to the peculiar interior laws of such +matters. And, besides thyself, there are also others like thee, whose +powers are calculated upon like thine own, and who can be preserved +only in the same way. Allow to them the same use of their portion +which it is granted thee to make of thine own portion. Respect what +comes to them, as their property. Use what comes to thee in a suitable +manner, as thy property." So must I act, and I must think conformably +to such action. Accordingly, I am necessitated to regard these things +as standing under their own natural laws, independent of me, but which +I am capable of knowing; that is, to ascribe to them an existence +independent of myself. I am constrained to believe in such laws, +and it becomes my business to ascertain them; and empty speculation +vanishes like mist when the warming sun appears. + +In short, there is for me, in general, no pure, naked existence, with +which I have no concern, and which I contemplate solely for the sake +of contemplation. Whatever exists for me, exists only by virtue of +its relation to me. But there is everywhere but one relation to +me possible, and all the rest are but varieties of this, i.e., my +destination as a moral agent. My world is the object and sphere of my +duties, and absolutely nothing else. There is no other world, no other +attributes of my world, for me. My collective capacity and all finite +capacity is insufficient to comprehend any other. Everything which +exists for me forces its existence and its reality upon me, solely by +means of this relation; and only by means of this relation do I grasp +it. There is utterly wanting in me an organ for any other existence. + +To the question whether then in fact such a world exists as I +represent to myself, I can answer nothing certain, nothing which is +raised above all doubt, but this: I have assuredly and truly these +definite duties which represent themselves to me as duties toward such +and such persons, concerning such and such objects. These definite +duties I cannot represent to myself otherwise, nor can I execute +them otherwise, than as lying within the sphere of such a world as I +conceive. Even he who has never thought of his moral destination, if +any such there could be, or who, if he has thought about it at all, +has never entertained the slightest purpose of ever, in the indefinite +future, fulfilling it--even he derives his world of the senses and his +belief in the reality of such a world no otherwise than from his idea +of a moral world. If he does not comprehend it through the idea of his +duties, he certainly does so through the requisition of his rights. +What he does not require of himself he yet requires of others, in +relation to himself--that they treat him with care and consideration, +agreeably to his nature, not as an irrational thing, but as a free and +self-subsisting being. And so he is constrained, in order that they +may comply with this demand, to think of them also as rational, free, +self-subsisting, and independent of the mere force of Nature. And even +though he should never propose to himself any other aim in the use and +fruition of the objects which surround him than that of enjoying them, +he still demands this enjoyment as a right, of which others must leave +him in undisturbed possession. Accordingly, he comprehends even the +irrational world of the senses through a moral idea. No one who lives +a conscious life can renounce these claims to be respected as rational +and self-subsisting. And with these claims at least there is connected +in his soul a seriousness, an abandonment of doubt, a belief in +a reality, if not with the acknowledgment of a moral law in +his innermost being. Do but assail him who denies his own moral +destination and your existence and the existence of a corporeal +world, except in the way of experiment, to try what speculation can +do--assail him actively, carry his principles into life, and act as if +he either did not exist, or as if he were a piece of rude matter, and +he will soon forget the joke; he will become seriously angry with you, +he will seriously reprove you for treating him so, and maintain that +you ought not and must not do so to him; and, in this way, he will +practically admit that you really possess the power of acting upon +him, that he exists, that you exist, and that there exists _a medium +through which you act upon him_; and that you have at least duties +toward him. + +Hence it is not the action of supposed objects without us, which exist +for us only and for which we exist only in so far as we already know +of them; just as little is it an empty fashioning, by means of our +imagination and our thinking, whose products would appear to us as +such, as empty pictures; it is not these, but the necessary faith in +our liberty and our power, in our veritable action and in definite +laws of human action, which serves as the foundation of all +consciousness of a reality without us, a consciousness which is +itself but a belief, since it rests on a belief, but one which follows +necessarily from that belief. We are compelled to assume that we +act in general, and that we ought to act in a certain way; we are +compelled to assume a certain sphere of such action--this sphere being +the truly and actually existing world as we find it. And _vice versa_, +this world is absolutely nothing but that sphere, and by no means +extends beyond it. The consciousness of the actual world proceeds from +the necessity of action, and not the reverse--i.e., the necessity of +action from the consciousness of such a world. The necessity is first +not the consciousness; that is derived. We do not act because we +agnize, but we agnize because we are destined to act. Practical reason +is the root of all reason. The laws of action for rational beings are +_immediately_ certain; their world is certain _only because they are +certain_. Were we to renounce the former, the world, and, with it, +ourselves, we should sink into absolute nothing. We raise ourselves +out of this nothing, and sustain ourselves above this nothing, solely +by means of our morality. + + + + +II + + * * * * * + +When I contemplate the world as it is, independently of any command, +there manifests itself in my interior the wish, the longing, no! not +a longing merely--the absolute demand for a better world. I cast a +glance at the relations of men to one another and to Nature, at the +weakness of their powers, at the strength of their appetites and +passions. It cries to me irresistibly from my innermost soul: "Thus it +cannot possibly be destined always to remain. It must, O it must all +become other and better!" + +I can in no wise imagine to myself the present condition of man as +that which is designed to endure. I cannot imagine it to be his whole +and final destination. If so, then would everything be dream and +delusion, and it would not be worth the trouble to have lived and to +have taken part in this ever-recurring, aimless, and unmeaning game. +Only so far as I can regard this condition as the means of something +better, as a point of transition to a higher and more perfect, does +it acquire any value for me. Not on its own account, but on account of +something better for which it prepares the way, can I bear it, honor +it, and joyfully fulfil my part in it. My mind can find no place, nor +rest a moment, in the present; it is irresistibly repelled by it. My +whole life streams irrepressibly on toward the future and better. + +Am I only to eat and to drink that I may hunger and thirst again, +and again eat and drink, until the grave, yawning beneath my feet, +swallows me up, and I myself spring up as food from the ground? Am I +to beget beings like myself, that they also may eat and drink and die, +and leave behind them beings like themselves, who shall do the same +that I have done? To what purpose this circle which perpetually +returns into itself; this game forever recommencing, after the same +manner, in which everything is born but to perish, and perishes but +to be born again as it was; this monster which forever devours itself +that it may produce itself again, and which produces itself that it +may again devour itself? + +Never can this be the destination of my being and of all being. There +must be something which exists because it has been brought forth, and +which now remains and can never be brought forth again after it has +been brought forth once. And this, that is permanent, must beget +itself amid the mutations of the perishing, and continue amid those +mutations, and be borne along unhurt upon the waves of time. + +As yet our race wrings with difficulty its sustenance and its +continuance from reluctant Nature. As yet the larger portion of +mankind are bowed down their whole life long by hard labor, to procure +sustenance for themselves and the few who think for them. Immortal +spirits are compelled to fix all their thinking and scheming, and +all their efforts, on the soil which bears them nourishment. It often +comes to pass as yet, that when the laborer has ended, and promises +himself, for his pains, the continuance of his own existence and of +those pains, then hostile elements destroy in a moment what he had +been slowly and carefully preparing for years, and delivers up the +industrious painstaking man, without any fault of his own, to +hunger and misery. It often comes to pass as yet, that inundations, +storm-winds, volcanoes, desolate whole countries, and mingle works +which bear the impress of a rational mind, as well as their authors, +with the wild chaos of death and destruction. Diseases still hurry men +into a premature grave, men in the bloom of their powers, and children +whose existence passes away without fruit or result. The pestilence +still stalks through blooming states, leaves the few who escape +it bereaved and alone, deprived of the accustomed aid of their +companions, and does all in its power to give back to the wilderness +the land which the industry of man had already conquered for its own. + +So it is, but so it cannot surely have been intended always to remain. +No work which bears the impress of reason, and which was undertaken +for the purpose of extending the dominion of reason, can be utterly +lost in the progress of the times. The sacrifices which the irregular +violence of Nature draws from reason must at least weary, satisfy, and +reconcile that violence. The force which has caused injury by acting +without rule cannot be intended to do so in that way any longer, it +cannot be destined to renew itself; it must be used up, from this time +forth and forever, by that one outbreak. All those outbreaks of +rude force, before which human power vanishes into nothing--those +desolating hurricanes, earthquakes, volcanoes, can be nothing else but +the final struggle of the wild mass against the lawfully progressive, +life-giving, systematic course to which it is compelled, contrary to +its own impulse. They can be nothing but the last concussive strokes +in the formation of our globe, now about to perfect itself. That +opposition must gradually become weaker and at last exhausted, since, +in the lawful course of things, there can be nothing that should renew +its power. That formation must at last be perfected, and our destined +abode complete. Nature must gradually come into a condition in which +we can count with certainty upon her equal step, and in which her +power shall keep unaltered a definite relation with that power which +is destined to govern it, that is, the human. So far as this relation +already exists and the systematic development of Nature has gained +firm footing, the workmanship of man, by its mere existence and its +effects, independent of any design on the part of the author, is +destined to react upon Nature and to represent in her a new and +life-giving principle. Cultivated lands are to quicken and mitigate +the sluggish, hostile atmosphere of the eternal forests, wildernesses, +and morasses. Well-ordered and diversified culture is to diffuse +through the air a new principle of life and fructification, and the +sun to send forth its most animating beams into that atmosphere which +is breathed by a healthy, industrious, and ingenious people. Science, +awakened, at first, by the pressure of necessity, shall hereafter +penetrate deliberately and calmly into the unchangeable laws of +Nature, overlook her whole power, and learn to calculate her possible +developments--shall form for itself a new Nature in idea, attach +itself closely to the living and active, and follow hard upon her +footsteps. And all knowledge which reason has wrung from Nature shall +be preserved in the course of the times and become the foundation +of further knowledge, for the common understanding of our race. Thus +shall Nature become ever more transparent and penetrable to +human perception, even to its innermost secrets. And human power, +enlightened and fortified with its inventions, shall rule her with +ease and peacefully maintain the conquest once effected. By degrees, +there shall be needed no greater outlay of mechanical labor than the +human body requires for its development, cultivation and health. And +this labor shall cease to be a burden; for the rational being is not +destined to be a bearer of burdens. + +But it is not Nature, it is liberty itself, that occasions the most +numerous and the most fearful disorders among our kind. The direst +enemy of man is man. + + * * * * * + +It is the destination of our race to unite in one body, thoroughly +acquainted with itself in all its parts, and uniformly cultivated in +all. Nature, and even the passions and vices of mankind, have, from +the beginning, drifted toward this goal. A large part of the road +which leads to it is already put behind us, and we may count with +certainty that this goal, which is the condition of further, united +progress, will be reached in due season. Do not ask History whether +mankind, on the whole, have grown more purely moral! They have grown +to extended, comprehensive, forceful acts of arbitrary will; but it +was almost a necessity of their condition that they should direct that +will exclusively to evil. + +Neither ask History whether the esthetic education and the +rationalistic culture of the understanding, of the fore-world, +concentrated upon a few single points, may not have far exceeded, in +degree, that of modern times. It might be that the answer would put +us to shame, and that the human race in growing older would appear, in +this regard, not to have advanced, but to have lost ground. + +But ask History in what period the existing culture was most widely +diffused and distributed among the greatest number of individuals. +Undoubtedly it will be found that, from the beginning of history down +to our own day, the few light-points of culture have extended +their rays farther and farther from their centres, have seized one +individual after another, and one people after another; and that this +diffusion of culture is still going on before our eyes. + +And this was the first goal of Humanity, on its infinite path. Until +this is attained, until the existing culture of an age is diffused +over the whole habitable globe, and our race is made capable of the +most unlimited communication with itself, one nation, one quarter of +the globe, must await the other, on their common path, and each must +bring its centuries of apparent standing still or retrogradation, as +a sacrifice to the common bond, for the sake of which, alone, they +themselves exist. + +When this first goal shall be attained, when everything useful that +has been discovered at one end of the earth shall immediately be +made known and imparted to all, then Humanity, without interruption, +without cessation, and without retrocession, with united force, and +with one step shall raise itself up to a degree of culture which we +lack power to conceive. + + * * * * * + +By the institution of this one true State and the firm establishment +of internal peace, external war also, at least between true +States, will be rendered impossible. Even for the sake of its own +advantage--in order that no thought of injustice, plunder and violence +may spring up in its own subjects, and no possible opportunity be +afforded them for any gain, except by labor and industry, in the +sphere assigned by law--every State must forbid as strictly, must +hinder as carefully, must compensate as exactly, and punish as +severely, an injury done to the citizen of a neighbor-State, as if it +were inflicted upon a fellow-citizen. This law respecting the security +of its neighbors is necessary to every State which is not a community +of robbers. And herewith the possibility of every just complaint of +one State against another, and every case of legitimate defense, are +done away. + +There are no necessarily and continuously direct relations between +States, as such, that could engender warfare. As a general rule, it +is only through the relations of single citizens of one State with the +citizens of another--it is only in the person of one of its members, +that a State can be injured. But this injury will be instantly +redressed, and the offended State satisfied. + + * * * * * + +That a whole nation should determine, for the sake of plunder, to +attack a neighboring country with war, is impossible, since in a State +in which all are equal the plunder would not become the booty of +a few, but must be divided equally among all, and, so divided, the +portion of each individual would never repay him for the trouble of a +war. Only, then, when the advantage to be gained falls to the lot of a +few oppressors, but the disadvantages, the trouble, the cost fall upon +a countless army of slaves--only then is a war of plunder possible or +conceivable. Accordingly, these States have no war to fear from States +like themselves, but only from savages or barbarians, tempted to prey +by want of skill to enrich themselves by industry; or from nations of +slaves, who are driven by their masters to procure plunder, of which +they are to enjoy no part themselves. As to the former, each single +State is undoubtedly superior to them in strength, by virtue of the +arts of culture. As to the latter, the common advantage of all the +States will lead them to strengthen themselves by union with one +another. No free State can reasonably tolerate, in its immediate +vicinity, polities whose rulers find their advantage in subjecting +neighboring nations, and which, therefore, by their mere existence, +perpetually threaten their neighbors' peace. Care for their own +security will oblige all free States to convert all around them into +free States like themselves, and thus, for the sake of their own +safety, to extend the dominion of culture to the savages, and that of +liberty to the slave nations round about them. And so, when once a few +free States have been formed, the empire of culture, of liberty, and, +with that, of universal peace, will gradually embrace the globe. + + * * * * * + +In this only true State, all temptation to evil in general, and even +the possibility of deliberately determining upon an evil act, will be +cut off, and man be persuaded as powerfully as he can be to direct his +will toward good. There is no man who loves evil because it is evil. +He loves in it only the advantages and enjoyments which it promises, +and which, in the present state of Humanity, it, for the most part, +actually affords. As long as this state continues, as long as a price +is set upon vice, a thorough reformation of mankind, in the whole, is +scarcely to be hoped for. But in such a civil Polity as should exist, +such as reason demands, and such as the thinker easily describes, +although as yet he nowhere finds it, and such as will necessarily +shape itself with the first nation that is truly disenthralled--in +such a Polity evil will offer no advantages, but, on the contrary, the +most certain disadvantages; and the aberration of self-love into acts +of injustice will be suppressed by self-love itself. According to +infallible regulations, in such a State, all taking advantage of +and oppressing others, every act of self-aggrandizement at another's +expense is not only sure to be in vain--labor lost--but it reacts upon +the author, and he himself inevitably incurs the evil which he would +inflict upon others. Within his own State and outside of it, on the +whole face of the earth, he finds no one whom he can injure with +impunity. It is not, however, to be expected that any one will resolve +upon evil merely for evil's sake, notwithstanding he cannot accomplish +it and nothing but his own injury can result from the attempt. The +use of liberty for evil ends is done away. Man must either resolve +to renounce his liberty entirely--to become, with patience, a passive +wheel in the great machine of the whole--or he must apply his liberty +to that which is good. + +And thus, then, in a soil so prepared, the good will easily flourish. +When selfish aims no longer divide mankind, and their powers can no +longer be exercised in destroying one another in battle, nothing will +remain to them but to turn their united force against the common and +only adversary which yet remains--resisting, uncultivated Nature. No +longer separated by private ends, they will necessarily unite in one +common end, and there will grow up a body everywhere animated by one +spirit and one love. Every disadvantage of the individual, since it +can no longer be a benefit to any one, becomes an injury to the whole +and to each particular member of the same, and is felt in each member +with equal pain, and with equal activity redressed. Every advance +which one man makes, human nature, in its entirety, makes with him. + +Here, where the petty, narrow self of the person is already +annihilated by the Polity, every one loves every other one as truly as +himself, as a component part of that great _Self_ which alone remains +for him to love, and of which he is nothing but a component part, +which only through the Whole can gain or lose. Here the conflict of +evil with good is done away, for no evil can any longer spring up. +The contest of the good among themselves, even concerning the good, +vanishes, now that it has become easy to them to love the good for its +own sake, and not for their sakes, as the authors of it--now that the +only interest they can have is that it come to pass, that truth +be discovered, that the good deed be executed--not by whom it is +accomplished. Here every one is always prepared to join his power to +that of his neighbor, and to subordinate it to that of his neighbor. +Whoever, in the judgment of all, shall accomplish the best, in the +best way, him all will support and partake with equal joy in his +success. + +This is the aim of earthly existence which Reason sets before us, and +for the sure attainment of which Reason vouches. It is not a goal for +which we are to strive merely that our faculties may be exercised on +something great, but which we must relinquish all hope of realizing. +It shall and must be realized. At some time or other this goal must be +attained, as surely as there is a world of the senses, and a race of +reasonable beings in time, for whom no serious and rational object can +be imagined but this, and whose existence is made intelligible by this +alone. Unless the whole life of man is to be considered as the sport +of an evil Spirit, who implanted this ineradicable striving after +the imperishable in the breasts of poor wretches merely that he might +enjoy their ceaseless struggle after that which unceasingly flees +from them, their still repeated grasping after that which still +eludes their grasp, their restless driving about in an ever-returning +circle--and laugh at their earnestness in this senseless sport--unless +the wise man, who must soon see through this game and be tired of his +own part in it, is to throw away his life, and the moment of awakening +reason is to be the moment of earthly death--that goal must be +attained. O it is attainable in life and by means of life; for Reason +commands me to live. It is attainable, for I am. + + + + +III + +But now, when it is attained, when Humanity shall stand at the +goal--what then? There is no higher condition on earth than that. +The generation which first attains it can do nothing further than to +persist in it, maintain it with all their powers, and die and leave +descendants who shall do the same that they have done, and who, in +their turn, shall leave descendants that shall do the same. Humanity +would then stand still in its course. Therefore its earthly goal +cannot be its highest goal, for this earthly goal is intelligible, and +attainable, and finite. Though we consider the preceding generations +as means of developing the last and perfected, still we cannot escape +the inquiry of earnest Reason: "Wherefore then these last?" Given a +human race on the earth, its existence must indeed be in accordance +with Reason, and not contrary to it. It must become all that it can +become on earth. But why should it exist at all--this human race? Why +might it not as well have remained in the womb of the Nothing? Reason +is not for the sake of existence, but existence for the sake of +Reason. An existence which does not, in itself, satisfy Reason and +solve all her questions, cannot possibly be the true one. + +Then, too, are the actions commanded by the voice of Conscience, whose +dictates I must not speculate about, but obey in silence--are they +actually the means, and the only means, of accomplishing the earthly +aim of mankind? That I cannot refer them to any other object but this, +that I can have no other intent with them, is unquestionable. But is +this, my intent, fulfilled in every case? Is nothing more needed but +to will the best, in order that it may be accomplished? Alas! most of +our good purposes are, for this world, entirely lost, and some of +them seem even to have an entirely opposite effect to that which was +proposed. On the other hand, the most despicable passions of men, +their vices and their misdeeds, seem often to bring about the good +more surely than the labors of the just man, who never consents to do +evil that good may come. It would seem that the highest good of the +world grows and thrives quite independently of all human virtues or +vices, according to laws of its own, by some invisible and unknown +power, just as the heavenly bodies run through their appointed course, +independently of all human effort; and that this power absorbs into +its own higher plan all human designs, whether good or ill, and, +by its superior strength, appropriates what was intended for other +purposes to its own ends. + +If, therefore, the attainment of that earthly goal could be the design +of our existence, and if no further question concerning it remained +to Reason, that aim, at least, would not be ours, but the aim of that +unknown Power. We know not at any moment what may promote it. Nothing +would be left us but to supply to that Power, by our actions, so much +material, no matter what, to work up in its own way, for its own ends. +Our highest wisdom would be, not to trouble ourselves about things +in which we have no concern, but to live, in each case, as the fancy +takes us, and quietly leave the consequences to that Power. The moral +law within us would be idle and superfluous, and wholly unsuited to a +being that had no higher capacity and no higher destination. In order +to be at one with ourselves, we should refuse obedience to the voice +of that law and suppress it as a perverse and mad enthusiasm. + + * * * * * + +If the whole design of our existence were to bring about a purely +earthly condition of our race, all that would be required would be +some infallible mechanism to direct our action; and we need be nothing +more than wheels well fitted to the whole machine. Freedom would then +not only be useless, but even contrary to the purpose of existence; +and good-will would be quite superfluous. The world, in that case, +would be very clumsily contrived--would proceed to its goal with waste +of power and by circuitous paths. Rather, mighty World-Spirit, hadst +thou taken from us this freedom, which, only with difficulty and by a +different arrangement, thou canst fit to thy plans, and compelled us +at once to act as those plans required! Thou wouldst then arrive at +thy goal by the shortest road, as the meanest of the inhabitants of +thy worlds can tell thee. + +But I am free, and therefore such a concatenation of cause and effect, +in which freedom is absolutely superfluous and useless, cannot exhaust +my whole destination. I must be free; for not the mechanical act, but +the free determination of free-will, for the sake of the command +alone and absolutely for no other purpose (so says the inward voice of +conscience)--this alone determines our true worth. The band with which +the law binds me is a band for living spirits. It scorns to rule +over dead mechanism, and applies itself alone to the living and +self-acting. Such obedience it demands. This obedience cannot be +superfluous. + +And, herewith, the eternal world rises more brightly before me, and +the fundamental law of its order stands clear before the eye of my +mind. In that world the _will_, purely and only, as it lies, locked up +from all eyes, in the secret dark of my soul, is the first link in a +chain of consequences which runs through the whole invisible world +of spirits; so in the earthly world the _deed_, a certain movement +of matter, becomes the first link in a material chain which extends +through the whole system of matter. The will is the working and living +principle in the world of Reason, as motion is the working and living +principle in the world of the senses. I stand in the centre of two +opposite worlds, a visible in which the deed, and an invisible, +altogether incomprehensible, in which the will, decides. I am one +of the original forces for both these worlds. My will is that which +embraces both. This will is in and of itself a constituent portion of +the supersensuous world. When I put it in motion by a resolution, I +move and change something in that world, and my activity flows on over +the whole and produces something new and ever-during which then exists +and needs not to be made anew. This will breaks forth into a material +act, and this act belongs to the world of the senses, and effects, in +that, what it can. + +I have not to wait until after I am divorced from the connection +of the earthly world to gain admission into that which is above +the earth. I am and live in it already, far more truly than in the +earthly. Even now it is my only firm standing-ground, and the eternal +life, which I have long since taken possession of, is the only +reason why I am willing still to prolong the earthly. That which +they denominate Heaven lies not beyond the grave. It is already here, +diffused around our Nature, and its light arises in every pure heart. +My will is mine, and it is the only thing that is entirely mine and +depends entirely upon myself. By it I am already a citizen of the +kingdom of liberty and of self-active Reason. My conscience, the tie +by which that world holds me unceasingly and binds me to itself, tells +me at every moment what determination of my will (the only thing +by which, here in the dust, I can lay hold of that kingdom) is most +consonant with its order; and it depends entirely upon myself to give +myself the destination enjoined upon me. I cultivate myself then for +this world, and, accordingly, work in it and for it, while cultivating +one of its members. I pursue in it, and in it alone, without +vacillation or doubt, according to fixed rules, my aim--sure of +success, since there is no foreign power that opposes my intent. + + * * * * * + +That our good-will, in and for and through itself, must have +consequences, we know, even in this life; for Reason cannot require +anything without a purpose. But what these consequences are--nay, how +it is possible that a mere will can effect anything--is a question to +which we cannot even imagine a solution, so long as we are entangled +with this material world, and it is the part of wisdom not to +undertake an inquiry concerning which, we know beforehand, it must be +unsuccessful. + + * * * * * + +This then is my whole sublime destination, my true essence. I am a +member of two systems--a purely spiritual one, in which I rule by pure +will alone; and a sensuous one, in which I work by my deed. + + * * * * * + +These two systems, the purely spiritual and the sensuous--which last +may consist of an immeasurable series of particular lives--exist in +me from the moment in which my active reason is developed, and pursue +their parallel courses. The latter system is only an appearance, for +me and for those who share with me the same life. The former alone +gives to the latter meaning, and purpose, and value. I _am_ immortal, +imperishable, eternal, so soon as I form the resolution to obey the +law of Reason; and do not first have to _become_ so. The supersensuous +world is not a future world; it is present. It never can be more +present at any one point of finite existence than at any other point. +After an existence of myriad lives, it cannot be more present than at +this moment. Other conditions of my sensuous existence are to come; +but these are no more the true life than the present condition. By +means of that resolution I lay hold on eternity, and strip off this +life in the dust and all other sensuous lives that may await me, and +raise myself far above them. I become to myself the sole fountain +of all my being and of all my phenomena; and have henceforth, +unconditioned by aught without me, life in myself. My will, which +I myself, and no stranger, fit to the order of that world, is this +fountain of true life and of eternity. + +But only my will is this fountain; and only when I acknowledge this +will to be the true seat of moral excellence, and actually elevate it +to this excellence, do I attain to the certainty and the possession of +that supersensuous world. + + * * * * * + +The sense by which we lay hold on eternal life we acquire only by +renouncing and offering up sense, and the aims of sense, to the law +which claims our will alone, and not our acts--by renouncing it with +the conviction that to do so is reasonable and alone reasonable. With +this renunciation of the earthly, the belief in the eternal first +enters our soul and stands isolated there, as the only stay by which +we can still sustain ourselves when we have relinquished everything +else, as the only animating principle that still uplifts our hearts +and still inspires our life. Well was it said, in the metaphors of +a sacred doctrine, that man must first die to the world and be born +again, in order to enter into the kingdom of God. + +I see, oh, I see now, clear before mine eyes, the cause of my former +heedlessness and blindness concerning spiritual things! Filled with +earthly aims, and lost in them with all my scheming and striving; put +in motion and impelled only by the idea of a result, which is to be +actualized without us, by the desire of such a result and pleasure in +it--insensible and dead to the pure impulse of that Reason which gives +the law to itself, which sets before us a purely spiritual aim, the +immortal Psyche remains chained to the earth; her wings are bound. Our +philosophy becomes the history of our own heart and life. As we find +ourselves, so we imagine man in general and his destination. Never +impelled by any other motive than the desire of that which can be +realized in this world, there is no true liberty for us, no liberty +which has the reason for its destination absolutely and entirely in +itself. Our liberty, at the utmost, is that of the self-forming +plant, no higher in its essence, only more curious in its result, not +producing a form of matter with roots, leaves and blossoms, but a form +of mind with impulses, thoughts, actions. Of the true liberty we +are positively unable to comprehend anything, because we are not in +possession of it. Whenever we hear it spoken of, we draw the words +down to our own meaning, or briefly dismiss it with a sneer, as +nonsense. With the knowledge of liberty, the sense of another world +is also lost to us. Everything of this sort floats by like words which +are not addressed to us; like an ash-gray shadow without color or +meaning, which we cannot by any end take hold of and retain. Without +the least interest, we let everything go as it is stated. Or if ever +a robuster zeal impels us to consider it seriously, we see clearly and +can demonstrate that all those ideas are untenable, hollow visions, +which a man of sense casts from him. And, according to the premises +from which we set out and which are taken from our own innermost +experience, we are quite right, and are alike unanswerable and +unteachable, so long as we remain what we are. The excellent doctrines +which are current among the people, fortified with special authority, +concerning freedom, duty and eternal life, change themselves for us +into grotesque fables, like those of Tartarus and the Elysian fields, +although we do not disclose the true opinion of our hearts, because we +think it more advisable to keep the people in outward decency by means +of these images. Or if we are less reflective, and ourselves fettered +by the bands of authority, then we sink, ourselves, to the true +plebeian level, by believing that which, so understood, would be +foolish fable; and by finding, in those purely spiritual indications, +nothing but the promise of a continuance, to all eternity, of the same +miserable existence which we lead here below. + +To say all in a word: Only through a radical reformation of my will +does a new light arise upon my being and destination. Without this, +however much I may reflect, and however distinguished my mental +endowments, there is nothing but darkness in me and around me. The +reformation of the heart alone conducts to true wisdom. So then, let +my whole life be directed unrestrainedly toward this one end! + + + + +IV + +My lawful will, simply as such, in and through itself, must +have consequences, certain and without exception. Every dutiful +determination of my will, although no act should flow from it, must +operate in another, to me incomprehensible, world; and, except this +dutiful determination of the will, nothing can take effect in that +world. What do I suppose when I suppose this? What do I take for +granted? + +Evidently, a law, a rule absolutely and without exception valid, +according to which the dutiful will must have consequences. Just as in +the earthly world which environs me, I assume a law according to which +this ball, when impelled by my hand with this given force, in this +given direction, must necessarily move in such a direction, with a +determinate measure of rapidity, perhaps impel another ball with +this given degree of force by which the other ball moves on with a +determinate rapidity; and so on indefinitely. As in this case, with +the mere direction and movement of my hand, I know and comprehend all +the directions and movements which shall follow it, as certainly as if +they were already present and perceived by me; even so I comprise, in +my dutiful will, a series of necessary and infallible consequences +in the spiritual world, as if they were already present, only that I +cannot, as in the material world, determine them--i.e., I merely know +that they shall be, not how they shall be. I suppose a law of the +spiritual world, in which my mere will is one of the moving forces, +just as my hand is one of the moving forces in the material world. +That firmness of my confidence and the thought of this law of a +spiritual world are one and the same thing--not two thoughts of which +one is the consequence of the other, but precisely the same thought, +just as the certainty with which I count upon a certain motion, and +the thought of a mechanical law of Nature, are the same. The idea +of _Law_ expresses generally nothing else but the fixed, immovable +reliance of Reason on a proposition, and the impossibility of +supposing the contrary. + +I assume such a law of a spiritual world, which my own will did not +enact, nor the will of any finite being, nor the will of all finite +beings together, but to which my will and the will of all finite +beings is subject. + + * * * * * + +Agreeably to what has now been advanced, the law of the supersensuous +world should be a _Will_. + +A Will which acts purely and simply as will, by its own agency, +entirely without any instrument or sensuous medium of its efficacy; +which is absolutely, in itself, at once action and result; which +wills and it is done, which commands and it stands fast; in +which, accordingly, the demand of Reason to be absolutely free and +self-active is represented. A Will which is law in itself; which +determines itself, not according to humor and caprice, not after +previous deliberation, vacillation and doubt, but which is forever and +unchangeably determined, and upon which one may reckon with infallible +security, as the mortal reckons securely on the laws of his world. +A Will in which the lawful will of finite beings has inevitable +consequences, but only their will, which is immovable to everything +else, and for which everything else is as though it were not. + +That sublime Will, therefore, does not pursue its course for itself, +apart from the rest of Reason's world. There is between it and all +finite, rational beings, a spiritual tie, and that Will itself is +this spiritual tie of Reason's world. I will, purely and decidedly, my +duty, and it then wills that I shall succeed, at least in the world of +spirits. Every lawful resolve of the finite will enters into it, +and moves and determines it--to speak after our fashion--not in +consequence of a momentary good pleasure, but in consequence of the +eternal law of its being. + +With astounding clearness it now stands before my soul, the thought +which hitherto had been wrapped in darkness--the thought that my will, +merely as such, and of itself, has consequences. It has consequences +because it is infallibly and immediately taken knowledge of by another +related Will, which is itself an act and the only life-principle of +the spiritual world. In that Will it has its first consequence, and +only through that, in the rest of the spiritual world which, in all +its parts, is but the product of that infinite Will. + +Thus I flow--the mortal must use the language of mortals--thus I flow +in upon that Will; and the voice of conscience in my inmost being, +which, in every situation of my life, instructs me what I have to do +in that situation, is that by means of which it, in turn, flows +in upon me. That voice is the oracle from the eternal world, made +sensible by my environment, and translated, by my reception of it, +into my language; which announces to me how I must fit myself to my +part in the order of the spiritual world, or to the infinite Will, +which itself is the order of that spiritual world. I cannot oversee or +see through this spiritual order; nor need I. I am only a link in its +chain, and can no more judge of the whole than a single tone in a song +can judge of the harmony of the whole. But what I myself should be, in +the harmony of Spirits, I must know; for only I myself can make myself +that, and it is immediately revealed to me by a voice which sounds +over to me from that world. Thus I stand in connection with the only +being that _exists_, and partake of its being. There is nothing truly +real, permanent, imperishable in me, but these two--the voice of my +conscience and my free obedience. By means of the first, the spiritual +world bows down to me and embraces me, as one of its members. By means +of the second, I raise myself into this world, lay hold of it, and +work in it. But that infinite Will is the mediator between it and me; +for, of it and me, that Will is the primal fountain. This is the only +true and imperishable reality, toward which my soul moves from its +inmost depth. All else is only phenomenon, and vanishes and returns +again, with new seeming. + +This Will connects me with itself. The same connects me with all +finite beings of my species, and is the universal mediator between +us all. That is the great mystery of the invisible world, and +its fundamental law, so far as it is a world or system of several +individual wills: _Union and direct reciprocal action of several +self-subsisting and independent wills among one another_--a mystery +which, even in the present life, lies clear before all eyes, without +any one's noticing it or thinking it worthy his admiration! The voice +of Conscience, which enjoins upon each one his proper duty, is the ray +by which we proceed from the Infinite and are set forth as individual +particular beings. It defines the boundaries of our personality; it +is, therefore, our true original constituent, the foundation and the +stuff of all the life which we live. + + * * * * * + +That eternal Will, then, is indeed world-creator, as he alone can +be--in the finite reason (the only creation which is needed). They who +suppose him to build a world out of eternal inert matter, which world, +in that case, could be nothing else but inert and lifeless, like +implements fashioned by human hands and not an eternal process of +self-development, or who think they can imagine the going forth of a +material something out of nothing, know neither the world nor him. If +matter only is something, then there is nowhere anything, and nowhere, +in all eternity, can anything be. Only Reason _is_: the infinite +reason in itself, and the finite in and through the infinite. Only in +our minds does he create the world, or, at least, that from which we +unfold it, and that whereby we unfold it--the call to duty, and the +feelings, perceptions and laws of thought agreeing therewith. It is +_his_ light whereby we see light and all that appears to us in that +light. In our minds he is continually fashioning this world, and +interposing in it by interposing in our minds with the call of duty, +whenever another free agent effects a change therein. In our minds he +maintains this world, and, therewith, our finite existence, of which +alone we are capable, in that he causes to arise out of our states new +states continually. After he has proved us sufficiently for our next +destination, according to his higher aim, and when we shall have +cultivated ourselves for the same, he will annihilate this world for +us by what we call death, and introduce us into a new one, the product +of our dutiful action in this. All our life is his life. We are in +his hand, and remain in it, and no one can pluck us out of it. We are +eternal because he is eternal. + +Sublime, living Will, whom no name can name, and whom no conception +can grasp!--well may I raise my mind to thee, for thou and I are not +divided. Thy voice sounds in me, and mine sounds back in thee; and all +my thoughts, if only they are true and good, are thought in thee. In +thee, the Incomprehensible, I become comprehensible to myself, and +entirely comprehend the world. All the riddles of my existence are +solved, and the most perfect harmony arises in my mind. + +Thou art best apprehended by childlike simplicity, devoted to thee. +To it thou art the heart-searcher who lookest through its innermost +thoughts; the all-present, faithful witness of its sentiments, who +alone knowest that it meaneth well, and who alone understandest it, +when misunderstood by all the world. Thou art to it a Father, whose +purposes toward it are ever kind, and who will order everything for +its best good. It submitteth itself wholly, with body and soul, to thy +beneficent decrees. Do with me as thou wilt, it saith, I know that it +shall be good, so surely as it is thou that dost it. The speculative +understanding, which has only heard of thee but has never seen thee, +would teach us to know thy being in itself, and sets before us an +inconsistent monster which it gives out for thine image, ridiculous to +the merely knowing, hateful and detestable to the wise and good. + +I veil my face before thee and lay my hand upon my mouth. How thou art +in thyself, and how thou appearest to thyself, I can never know, +as surely as I can never be thou. After thousand times thousand +spirit-lives lived through, I shall no more be able to comprehend thee +than now, in this hut of earth. That which I comprehend becomes, by my +comprehension of it, finite; and this can never, by an endless process +of magnifying and exalting, be changed into infinite. Thou differest +from the finite, not only in degree but in kind. By that magnifying +process they make thee only a greater and still greater man, but never +God, the Infinite, incapable of measure. + + * * * * * + +I will not attempt that which is denied to me by my finite nature, +and which could avail me nothing. I desire not to know how thou art +in thyself. But thy relations and connections with me, the finite, +and with all finite beings, lie open to mine eye, when I become what +I should be. They encompass me with a more luminous clearness than the +consciousness of my own being. Thou workest in me the knowledge of my +duty, of my destination in the series of rational beings. How? I know +not, and need not to know. Thou knowest and perceivest what I think +and will. How thou canst know it--by what act thou bringest this +consciousness to pass--on that point I comprehend nothing. Yea, I know +very well that the idea of an act, of a special act of consciousness, +applies only to me but not to thee, the Infinite. Thou willest, +because thou willest, that my free obedience shall have consequences +in all eternity. The act of thy will I cannot comprehend; I only know +that it is not like to mine. Thou _doest_, and thy will itself is +deed. But thy method of action is directly contrary to that of which, +alone, I can form a conception. Thou _livest_ and _art_, for thou +knowest, and willest, and workest, omnipresent to finite Reason. But +thou art not such as through all eternity I shall alone be able to +conceive of Being. + +In the contemplation of these thy relations to me, the finite, I will +be calm and blessed. I know immediately, only what I must do. This +will I perform undisturbed and joyful, and without philosophizing. +For it is thy voice which commands me, it is the ordination of the +spiritual world-plan concerning me, and the power by which I perform +it is thy power. Whatsoever is commanded me by that voice, whatsoever +is accomplished by this power, is surely and truly good in relation to +that plan. I am calm in all the events of this world, for they occur +in thy world. Nothing can deceive, or surprise, or make me afraid, so +surely as thou livest and I behold thy life. For in thee and through +thee, O infinite One, I behold even my present world in another light! +Nature and natural consequences in the destinies and actions of free +beings, in view of thee, are empty, unmeaning words. There is no +Nature more. Thou, thou alone, art. + +It no longer appears to me the aim of the present world that the +above-mentioned state of universal peace among men, and of their +unconditioned empire over the mechanism of Nature, should be brought +about merely that it may exist, but that it should be brought about +by man himself, and, since it is calculated for all, then it should be +brought about by all, as one great, free, moral community. Nothing +new and better for the individual, except through his dutiful will, +nothing new and better for the community, except through their united, +dutiful will, is the fundamental law of the great moral kingdom of +which the present life is a part. + +The reason why the good-will of the individual is so often lost for +this world, is that it is only the will of the individual, and that +the will of the majority does not coincide with it; therefore it has +no consequences but those which belong to a future world. Hence, even +the passions and vices of men appear to coöperate in the promotion of +a better state, _not in and for themselves_--in this sense good can +never come out of evil--but by furnishing a counter-poise to opposite +vices, and finally annihilating those vices and themselves by their +preponderance. Oppression could never have gained the upper hand +unless cowardice, and baseness, and mutual distrust had prepared the +way for it. It will continue to increase until it eradicates cowardice +and the slavish mind; and despair re-awakens the courage that was +lost. Then the two antagonistic vices will have destroyed each other, +and the noblest in all human relations, permanent freedom, will have +come forth from them. + +The actions of free beings have, strictly speaking, no other +consequences than those which affect other free beings. For only in +such, and for such, does a world exist; and that, wherein all agree, +is the world. But they have consequences in free agents only by +means of the infinite Will, by which all individuals exist. A call, a +revelation of that Will to us, is always a requirement to perform some +particular duty. Hence, even that which we call evil in the world, the +consequence of the abuse of freedom, exists only through _him_; and it +exists for all, for whom it exists, only so far as it imposes duties +upon them. Did it not fall within the eternal plan of our moral +education and the education of our whole race that precisely these +duties should be laid upon us, they would not have been imposed; and +that whereby they are imposed, and which we call evil, would never +have been. In this view, everything which takes place is good, and +absolutely accordant with the best ends. There is but one world +possible--a thoroughly good one. Everything that occurs in this world +conduces to the reformation and education of man, and, by means of +that, to the furtherance of his earthly destination. + +It is this higher world-plan that we call Nature, when we say Nature +leads men through want to industry, through the evils of general +disorder to a righteous polity, through the miseries of their +perpetual wars to final, ever-during peace. Thy will, O Infinite, thy +providence alone, is this higher Nature! This too is best understood +by artless simplicity, which regards this life as a place of +discipline and education, as a school for eternity; which, in all +the fortunes it experiences, the most trivial as well as the most +momentous, beholds thy ordinations designed for good; and which firmly +believes that all things will work together for good to those who love +their duty and know thee. + +O truly have I spent the former days of my life in darkness! Truly +have I heaped errors upon errors, and thought myself wise! Now only +out of thy mouth, wondrous Spirit, I fully understand the doctrine +which seemed so strange to me![3] although my understanding had +nothing to oppose to it. For now only I overlook it, in its whole +extent, in its deepest meaning, and in all its consequences. + +Man is not a product of the world of the senses; and the end of his +existence can never be attained in that world. His destination lies +beyond time and space and all that pertains to the senses. He must +know what he is and what he is to make himself. As his destination +is sublime, so his thought must be able to lift itself above all the +bounds of the senses. This must be his calling. Where his being is +indigenous, there his thought must be indigenous also; and the most +truly human view, that which alone befits him, that in which his whole +power of thought is represented, is the view by which he lifts himself +above those limits, by which all that is of the senses is changed for +him into pure nothing, a mere reflection in mortal eyes of the alone +enduring, non-sensuous. + +Many have been elevated to this view without scientific thought, +simply by their great heart and their pure moral instinct; because +they lived especially with the heart, and in the sentiments. They +denied, by their conduct, the efficacy and reality of the world of +the senses; and in the shaping of their purposes and measures, they +esteemed as nothing that concerning which they had not yet learned by +thinking that it is nothing, even to thought. They who could say, "our +citizenship is in heaven; we have here no permanent place, but seek +one to come;" they whose first principle was, to die to the world and +to be born anew, and, even here, to enter into another life--they, +truly, placed not the slightest value upon all the objects of sense, +and were, to use the language of the School, practical transcendental +Idealists. + +Others who, in addition to the sensuous activity which is native to +us all, have, by their thought, confirmed themselves in the sensuous, +become implicated, and, as it were, grown together with it; they can +raise themselves permanently and perfectly above the sensuous only by +continuing and carrying out their thought. Otherwise, with the +purest moral intentions, they will still be drawn down again by their +understanding, and their whole being will remain a continued and +insoluble contradiction. For such, that philosophy, which I now first +entirely understand, is the power by which Psyche first strips off her +chrysalis, unfolds the wings on which she then hovers above herself, +and casts one glance on the slough she has dropped, thenceforth to +live and work in higher spheres. + +Blessed be the hour in which I resolved to meditate on myself and my +destination! All my questions are solved. I know what I can know, +and I am without anxiety concerning that which I cannot know. I am +satisfied. There is perfect harmony and clearness in my spirit, and a +new and more glorious existence for that spirit begins. + +My whole, complete destination, I do not comprehend. What I am +called to be and shall be, surpasses all my thought. A part of this +destination is yet hidden to me, visible only to him, the Father of +Spirits, to whom it is committed. I know only that it is secured to +me, and that it is eternal and glorious as himself. But that portion +of it which is committed to me, I know. I know it entirely, and it +is the root of all my other knowledge. I know, in every moment of my +life, with certainty, what I am to do in that moment. And this is my +whole destination, so far as it depends upon me. From this, since my +knowledge goes no farther, I must not depart. I must not desire to +know anything beyond it. I must stand fast in this one centre, and +take root in it. All my scheming and striving, and all my faculty, +must be directed to that. My whole existence must inweave itself with +it. + + * * * * * + +I raise myself to this viewpoint, and am a new creature. My whole +relation to the existing world is changed. The threads by which my +mind was heretofore bound to this world, and by whose mysterious +traction it followed all the movements of this world, are forever +severed, and I stand free--myself, my own world, peaceful and unmoved. +No longer with the heart, with the eye alone, I seize the objects +about me, and, through the eye alone, am connected with them. And this +eye itself, made clearer by freedom, looks through error and deformity +to the true and the beautiful; as, on the unmoved surface of the +water, forms mirror themselves pure and with a softened light. + +My mind is forever closed against embarrassment and confusion, against +doubt and anxiety; my heart is forever closed against sorrow, and +remorse, and desire. There is but one thing that I care to know: What +I must do; and this I know, infallibly, always. Concerning all besides +I know nothing, and I know that I know nothing; and I root myself fast +in this my ignorance, and forbear to conjecture, to opine, to quarrel +with myself concerning that of which I know nothing. No event in this +world can move me to joy, and none to sorrow. Cold and unmoved I look +down upon them all; for I know that I cannot interpret one of them, +nor discern its connection with that which is my only concern. +Everything which takes place belongs to the plan of the eternal world, +and is good in relation to that plan; so much I know. But what, in +that plan, is pure gain, and what is only meant to remove existing +evil, accordingly what I should most or least rejoice in, I know not. +In his world everything succeeds. This suffices me, and in this faith +I stand firm as a rock. But what in his world is only germ, what +blossom, what the fruit itself, I know not. The only thing which can +interest me is the progress of reason and morality in the kingdom of +rational beings--and that purely for its own sake, for the sake of the +progress. Whether _I_ am the instrument of this progress or another, +whether it is my act which succeeds or is thwarted, or whether it is +the act of another, is altogether indifferent to me. I regard myself +in every case but as one of the instruments of a rational design, and +I honor and love myself, and am interested in myself, only as such; +and I wish the success of my act only so far as it goes to accomplish +that end. Therefore I regard all the events of this world in the same +manner and only with exclusive reference to this one end--whether +they proceed from me or from another, whether they relate to me +immediately, or to others. My breast is closed against all vexation +on account of personal mortifications and affronts, against all +exaltation on account of personal merits; for my entire personality +has long since vanished and been swallowed up in the contemplation of +the end. + + * * * * * + +Bodily sufferings, pain and sickness, should such befal me, I cannot +avoid to feel, for they are events of my nature, and I am and remain +nature here below. But they shall not trouble me. They affect only the +Nature with which I am, in some strange way, connected; not myself, +the being which is elevated above all Nature. The sure end of all +pain, and of all susceptibility of pain, is death; and of all which +the natural man is accustomed to regard as evil, this is the least so +to me. Indeed, I shall not die for myself, but only for others, for +those that remain behind, from whose connection I am severed. For +myself, the hour of death is the hour of birth to a new and more +glorious life. + +Since my heart is thus closed to all desire for the earthly, since, +in fact, I have no longer any heart for the perishable, the universe +appears to my eye in a transfigured form. The dead inert mass which +but choked up space has vanished; and, instead thereof, flows, and +waves, and rushes the eternal stream of life, and power, and deed--of +the original life, of thy life, O Infinite! For all life is thy life, +and only the religious eye pierces to the kingdom of veritable beauty. + +I am related to thee, and all that I behold around me is related +to me. All is quick, all is soul, and gazes upon me with bright +spirit-eyes, and speaks in spirit-tones to my heart. Most diversely +sundered and severed, I behold, in all the forms without me, myself +again, and beam upon myself from them, as the morning sun, in thousand +dew-drops diversely refracted, glitters back toward itself. + +Thy life, as the finite being can apprehend it, is volition which +shapes and represents itself by means of itself alone. This life, made +sensible in various ways to mortal eyes, flows through me and from me +downward, through the immeasurable whole of Nature. Here it streams, +as self-creating, self-fashioning matter, through my veins and +muscles, and deposits its fulness outside of me, in the tree, in +the plant, in the grass. As one connected stream, drop by drop, the +forming life flows in all shapes and on all sides, wherever my eye can +follow it, and looks upon me, from every point of the universe, with +a different aspect, as the same force which fashions my own body in +darkness and in secret. Yonder it waves free, and leaps and dances as +self-forming motion in the brute; and, in every new body, represents +itself as another separate, self-subsisting world--the same power +which, invisible to me, stirs and moves in my own members. All that +lives follows this universal current, this one principle of all +movement, which transmits the harmonious concussion from one end of +the universe to the other. The brute follows it without freedom. +I, from whom, in the visible world, the movement proceeds (without, +therefore, originating in me), follow it freely. + +But, pure and holy, and near to thine own essence as aught, to mortal +apprehension, can be, this thy life flows forth as a band which binds +spirits with spirits in one, as air and ether of the one world of +Reason, inconceivable and incomprehensible, and yet lying plainly +revealed to the spiritual eye. Conducted by this light-stream, thought +floats unrestrained and the same from soul to soul, and returns purer +and transfigured from the kindred breast. Through this mystery the +individual finds, and understands, and loves himself, only in another; +and every spirit detaches itself only from other spirits; and there +is no man, but only a Humanity; no isolated thinking, and loving, and +hating, but only a thinking, and loving, and hating in and through +one another. Through this mystery the affinity of spirits, in the +invisible world, streams forth into their corporeal nature, and +represents itself in two sexes, which, though every spiritual band +could be severed, are still constrained, as natural beings, to love +each other. It flows forth into the affection of parents and children, +of brothers and sisters, as if the souls were sprung from one blood as +well as the bodies--as if the minds were branches and blossoms of the +same stem; and from thence it embraces, in narrower or wider circles, +the whole sentient world. Even the hatred of spirits is grounded in +thirst for love; and no enmity springs up, except from friendship +denied. + +Mine eye discerns this eternal life and motion, in all the veins of +sensuous and spiritual Nature, through what seems to others a dead +mass. And it sees this life forever ascend, and grow, and transfigure +itself into a more spiritual expression of its own nature. The +universe is no longer, to me, that circle which returns into itself, +that game which repeats itself without ceasing, that monster which +devours itself in order to reproduce itself as it was before. It is +spiritualized to my contemplation, and bears the peculiar impress of +the spirit--continual progress toward perfection, in a straight line +which stretches into infinity. + +The sun rises and sets, the stars vanish and return again, and all the +spheres hold their cycle-dance. But they never return precisely such +as they disappeared; and in the shining fountains of life there is +also life and progress. Every hour which they bring, every morning and +every evening, sinks down with new blessings on the world. New life +and new love drop from the spheres, as dew-drops from the cloud, and +embrace Nature, as the cool night embraces the earth. + +All death in Nature is birth; and precisely in dying the sublimation +of life appears most conspicuous. There is no death-bringing principle +in Nature, for Nature is only life, throughout. Not death kills, but +the more living life, which, hidden behind the old, begins and unfolds +itself. Death and birth are only the struggle of life with itself to +manifest itself in ever more transfigured form, more like itself. + +And _my_ death--can that be anything different from this?--I, who am +not a mere representation and copy of life, but who bear within myself +the original, the alone true and essential life! It is not a possible +thought that Nature should annihilate a life which did not spring from +her--Nature, which exists only for my sake, not I for hers. + +But even my natural life, even this mere representation of an inward +invisible life to mortal eyes, Nature cannot annihilate; otherwise she +must be able to annihilate herself--she who exists only for me and for +my sake, and who ceases to exist, if I am not. Even because she puts +me to death she must quicken me anew. It can be only my higher life, +unfolding itself in her, before which my present life disappears; and +that which mortals call death is the visible appearing of a second +vivification. Did no rational being, who has once beheld its light, +perish from the earth, there would be no reason to expect a new heaven +and a new earth. The only possible aim of Nature, that of representing +and maintaining Reason, would have been already fulfilled here below, +and her circle would be complete. But the act by which she puts to +death a free, self-subsisting being, is her solemn--to all Reason +apparent--transcending of that act, and of the entire sphere which she +thereby closes. The apparition of death is the conductor by which my +spiritual eye passes over to the new life of myself, and of a Nature +for me. + +Every one of my kind who passes from earthly connections, and who +cannot, to my spirit, seem annihilated, because he is one of my kind, +draws my thought over with him. He still is, and to him belongs a +place. + +While we, here below, sorrow for him with such sorrow as would be +felt, if possible, in the dull kingdom of unconsciousness, when a +human being withdraws himself from thence to the light of earth's +sun--while we so mourn, on yonder side there is joy because a man is +born into their world; as we citizens of earth receive with joy our +own. When I, some time, shall follow them, there will be for me only +joy; for sorrow remains behind, in the sphere which I quit. + +It vanishes and sinks before my gaze--the world which I so lately +admired. With all the fulness of life, of order, of increase, which +I behold in it, it is but the curtain by which an infinitely more +perfect world is concealed from me. It is but the germ out of which +that infinitely more perfect shall unfold itself. My faith enters +behind this curtain, and warms and quickens this germ. It sees nothing +definite, but expects more than it can grasp here below, than it will +ever be able to grasp in time. + +So I live and so I am; and so I am unchangeable, firm and complete +for all eternity. For this being is not one which I have received from +without; it is my own only true being and essence. + + + + +ADDRESSES TO THE GERMAN NATION + +(1807 to 1808) + +TRANSLATED BY LOUIS H. GRAY, PH.D. + +ADDRESS EIGHT + +The Definition of a Nation in the Higher Sense of the Word, and of +Patriotism + + +The last four addresses have answered the question, What is the German +as contrasted with other nations of Teutonic origin? The argument will +be complete if we further add the examination of the question, What is +a nation? The latter question is identical with another, and, at the +same time, the other question, which has often been propounded and +has been answered in very different ways, helps in the solution. This +question is, What is patriotism, or, as it would be more correctly +expressed, What is the love of the individual for his nation? + +If we have thus far proceeded aright in the course of our +investigation, it must become obvious therefrom that only the +German--the primitive man, not he who has become petrified by +arbitrary laws and institutions--really has a nation and is entitled +to count on one, and that only he is capable of real and rational love +for his nation. + +We smooth our way to a solution of our proposed task by means of the +following remark, which appears, at first sight, to lie outside the +context of our previous discussion. + +As we have already observed in our third address, religion is able +absolutely to transport us above all time and above the whole of +present and perceptual life without doing the least injury to the +justice, morality, and holiness of the life influenced by this belief. +Even with the certain conviction that all our activity on this earth +will not leave the least trace behind it and will not produce the +slightest results, and even with the belief that the divine may +actually be perverse and may be used as a tool of evil and of still +deeper moral corruption, it is, nevertheless, possible to continue +in this activity simply in order to maintain the divine life that +has come forth within us and that stands in relation to a higher +governance of things in a future world where nothing perishes that +has been done in God. Thus, for instance, the apostles and the first +Christians generally, even while living, were wholly transported +above the earth because of their belief in heaven; and affairs +terrestrial--state, fatherland, and nation--were so entirely renounced +that they no longer deemed such trivial concerns worthy even of their +consideration. However possible this may be, however easy, moreover, +for faith, and however joyfully we may resign ourselves to the +conviction, since it is unalterably the will of God, that we have +no more an earthly country but are exiles and slaves here +below--nevertheless, this is not the natural condition and the rule +governing the course of the world, but is a rare exception. Moreover, +it is a very perverse use of religion (and, among others, Christianity +has frequently been guilty of it) when, as a question of principle and +without regard to the existent circumstances, it proceeds to commend +this withdrawal from the affairs of the state and of the nation as a +truly religious sentiment. Under such conditions, if they are true and +real and not perhaps induced merely by religious fanaticism, temporal +life loses all its independence and becomes simply a fore-court of +the true life and a hard trial to be borne only by obedience and +submission to the will of God; in this view it becomes true that, +as has been claimed by many, immortal souls have been plunged into +earthly bodies, as into prisons, simply as a punishment. In the +regular order of things, however, earthly life should itself truly be +life in which we may rejoice and which we may thankfully enjoy, even +though in expectation of a higher life; and although it is true that +religion is also the comfort of the slave illegally oppressed, yet, +above all things, the essence of religion is to oppose slavery and to +prevent, so far as possible, its deterioration to a mere consolation +of the captive. It is doubtless to the interest of the tyrant to +preach religious resignation and to refer to heaven those to whom he +will not grant a tiny place on earth; we must, however, be less hasty +to adopt the view of religion recommended by the tyrant, for, if +we can, we must forestall the making of earth into hell in order to +arouse a still greater longing for heaven. + +The natural impulse of man, to be surrendered only in case of real +necessity, is to find heaven already on this earth and to amalgamate +into his earthly work day by day that which lasts forever; to plant +and to cultivate the imperishable in the temporal itself--not merely +in an unconceivable way, connected with the eternal solely by the gulf +which mortal eyes may not pass, but in a manner which is visible to +the mortal eye itself. + +That I may begin with this generally intelligible example--what +noble-minded man does not wish and aspire to repeat his own life in +better wise in his children and, again, in their children, and still +to continue to live upon this earth, ennobled and perfected in their +lives, long after he is dead; to wrest from mortality the spirit, +the mind, and the character with which in his day he perchance put +perversity and corruption to flight, established uprightness, aroused +sluggishness, and uplifted dejection, and to deposit these, as his +best legacy to posterity, in the spirits of his survivors, in order +that, in their turn, they may again bequeath them equally adorned and +augmented? What noble-minded man does not wish, by act or thought, +to sow a seed for the infinite and eternal perfecting of his race; +to cast into Time something new and hitherto non-existent, which +may abide there and become the unfailing source of new creations; +to repay, for his place on this earth and for the short span of +life vouchsafed him, something that shall last forever even here on +earth--to the end that he as an individual, even though unnamed by +history (since thirst for fame is contemptible vanity), may leave +behind in his own consciousness and in his own belief manifest tokens +that he himself existed? What noble-minded man does not wish this, +I asked; yet the world is to be considered as organized only in +accordance with the requirements of those who thus view themselves as +the norm of how all men should be. It is for their sakes alone that +the world exists! They are indeed its kernel; and those who think +otherwise must be regarded as merely a part of the transitory world so +long as they reason on so low a plane, for they exist merely for the +sake of the noble-minded and must accommodate themselves to the latter +until they have risen to their height. + +What, now, could it be that might give solid foundation to this +challenge and to this belief of the noble in the eternity and the +imperishability of his work? Obviously, only an order of things which +he could recognize as eternal in itself and as capable of receiving +eternal elements within itself. Such an order is, however, the +special, spiritual nature of human surroundings, which can, it is +true, be comprised in no concept, but which is, nevertheless, truly +present--the surroundings from which he has himself come forth with +all his thought and activity and with his faith in their eternity--the +nation from which he is descended, amid which he was educated and grew +up to what he now is. For however undoubtedly true it may be that his +work, if he rightly lays claim to its eternity, is in no wise the mere +result of the spiritual, natural law of his nation, simply merging +into this result--no, it must be thought of as an element greater +than that--a something which flows immediately from the primitive +and divine life. Nevertheless, it is equally true that this something +more, immediately after its formation as a visible phenomenon, has +subordinated itself to that special spiritual law of nature, has +acquired a perceptual expression only in accordance with that law. +Under this same natural law, so long as this nation endures, all +further revelations of the divine will also appear and be formed +within it. Yet, through the fact that the man existed and so labored, +this law itself is further determined, and his activity has become +a permanent component of it; everything subsequent will likewise be +compelled to adapt itself accordingly and to conform to the law in +question. And thus he is made certain that the culture which he has +achieved remains with his nation for all time and becomes a permanent +basis of determination for all its further development. + +In the higher conception of the word considered in general from the +viewpoint of an insight into a spiritual world, a nation is this: The +totality of human beings living together in society and constantly +perpetuating themselves both bodily and spiritually; and this totality +stands altogether under a certain specific law through which the +divine develops itself. The universality of this specific law is what +binds this multitude into a natural totality, inter-penetrated by +itself, in the eternal world, and, for that very reason, in the +temporal world as well. The law itself, in its essence, can be +generally comprehended as we have applied it to the case of the +Germans as a primal nation; through consideration of the phenomena +of such a nation it may be even more exactly grasped in many of its +further determinations; yet it can never be entirely understood by any +one who, unknown to himself, personally remains continually under its +influence; it may in general, however, be clearly perceived that +such a law exists. This law is a surplus of the figurative +which amalgamates directly with the surplus of the unfigurative +primitiveness in the phenomenon, and thus, precisely in the +phenomenon, both are then no longer separable. That law absolutely +determines and completes what has been called the national character +of a people--the law, namely, of the development of the primitive and +of the divine. From the latter it is clear that men who do not in the +least believe in a primitive being and in a further development of +it, but simply in an eternal circle of visible life, and who, through +their belief, become what they believe, are no nation whatsoever in +the higher sense; and since they do not, strictly speaking, actually +exist, they are equally powerless to possess a national character. + +The belief of the noble-minded man in the eternal continuance of his +activity, even upon this earth, is based, accordingly, on the hope +for the eternal continuance of the nation from which he has himself +developed, and of its individuality in accordance with that hidden +law, without intermixture and corruption by any alien element and +by what does not appertain to the totality of this legislation. +This individuality is the permanent element to which he intrusts the +eternity of himself and of his continued action--the eternal order +of things in which he lays his perpetuity. He must desire its +continuance, for it is alone the releasing agency whereby the brief +span of his life here is extended to a continuous life upon the earth. +His belief and his endeavor to plant what shall not pass away, and +the concept in which he comprehends his own life as an eternal life, +constitute the bond which most intimately associates with himself, +first, his own nation and, through that, the entire human race--which +brings the needs of them all, to the end of time, into his broadened +heart. This is his love for his nation, and through it, first, he +respects, trusts, rejoices in it, and takes pride in his descent from +it; the Divine has appeared in it, and has deigned to make it his +covering and his means of direct communication with the world; the +Divine, therefore, will continue to break forth from it. Therefore +man is, secondly, active, efficacious, and self-sacrificing for his +nation. Life, simply as life, as a continuance of changing existence, +has certainly never possessed value for him apart from this--he has +desired it merely as the source of the permanent. This permanence, +however, alone promises him the independent continuance of the +existence of his nation; and to save this he must even be willing to +die that it may live, and that in it he may live the only life that +has ever been possible to him. + +Thus it is. Love, to be really love, and not merely a transitory +desire, never clings to the perishable, but is awakened and kindled +by, and based upon, the eternal only. Man is not even able to love +himself unless he consider himself as eternal; moreover, he cannot +even esteem and approve himself. Still less can he love anything +outside himself, except, that is, that he receive it within the +eternity of his belief and of his soul, and connect it with this +eternity. He who does not, first of all, regard himself as eternal, +has no love whatever, nor can he, moreover, love a fatherland, since +nothing of the sort exists for him. It is true that he who, perchance, +regards his invisible life as eternal, but who does not, therefore, +esteem his visible life as eternal in the same sense, may perhaps +have a heaven, and in this his fatherland, but here on earth he has no +fatherland; for this also is seen only under the metaphor of eternity +and, indeed, of visible eternity, rendered perceptible to the senses; +moreover, he cannot, therefore, love his fatherland. If such a man has +none, he is to be pitied; but he to whom one has been given, and +in whose soul heaven and earth, the invisible and the visible, +interpenetrate, and thus for the first time create a true and worthy +heaven, fights to the last drop of his blood again to transmit the +precious possession undiminished to posterity. + +Thus has it been from time immemorial, though it has not been +expressed from time immemorial with this generality and with this +clearness. What inspired the noble spirits among the Romans, whose +sentiments and mode of thought still live and breathe among us in +their monuments, to struggle and to sacrifice, to endure and be +patient, for their fatherland? They themselves state it frequently and +clearly. It was their firm belief in the eternal continuance of their +Rome, and their confident expectation of themselves continuing to live +in this eternity. In so far as this conviction had foundation, and +in so far as they themselves would have grasped it if they had been +perfectly clear within themselves, it never deceived them. + +Unto this day what was really eternal in their eternal Rome lives on +and they with it in our midst, and it will continue to live, in its +results, until the end of time. + +In this sense--as the vehicle and the pledge of earthly eternity, +and the interpretation of the eternal here--nation and fatherland +far transcend the State in the ordinary sense of the term social +organization, as this is conceived in its simple, clear connotation, +and as it is founded and maintained in accordance with this +conception--a conception which demands sure justice and internal +peace, and requires that every one through his efforts obtain his +support and the prolongation of his sentient existence so long as God +will grant it to him. All this is only a means, a condition, and a +scaffolding of what patriotism really means--the development of the +eternal and the divine in the world, which is ever to become purer, +more perfect in infinite progression. For that very reason this +patriotism must, first of all, rule the State itself as absolutely the +highest, ultimate, and independent authority, by limiting it in the +choice of means for its immediate purpose--inner peace. To reach this +goal, the natural freedom of the individual must be limited in many +ways, it is true; and if this were absolutely the only consideration +and intention regarding them, it would be well to restrict this +liberty as closely as possible, in order to bring all their movements +under one uniform rule, and to keep them under constant supervision. +Granted that such severity be necessary, it could at least do no harm +for this single end; only the higher concept of the human race and of +the nations widens this limited view. Even in the manifestations +of external life freedom is the soil in which the higher culture +germinates; a legislation which keeps this later aim in view will give +the broadest possible scope to freedom, even at the risk that a less +degree of uniform quiet and calm may result, and that government may +become a little more difficult and laborious. + +To elucidate this by an example--it has been known to happen that +nations have been told to their faces that they did not require as +much freedom as many other nations do. This statement might, indeed, +be dictated by forbearance and a desire to palliate, the true meaning +being that they were utterly unable to endure so great freedom and +that only a high degree of rigidity could prevent them from destroying +one another. If, however, the words are taken as they are spoken, +they are true under the presupposition that such a nation is entirely +incapable of the natural life and of the impulse toward it. Such a +nation--in case such a one, in which some few of the nobler sort did +not make an exception to the general rule, were possible--would indeed +require no freedom whatever, since this is only for the higher ends +which transcend the State; it requires simply taming and training in +order that the individuals may live peaceably side by side, and that +the whole may be made an efficient means for arbitrary ends which +lie outside its proper sphere. We need not decide whether this may +truthfully be said of any nation whatever; but this much is clear, +that a primitive nation requires freedom, that this freedom is the +pledge of its persistence as a primitive people, and that, as it +continues, it bears, without any danger, an ever ascending degree of +freedom. And this is the first example of the necessity of patriotism +governing the state itself. + +It must, then, be patriotism which governs the state in that it sets +for it itself a higher end than the ordinary one of the maintenance of +the internal peace, of the property, of the personal freedom, of the +life, and of the well-being of all. Solely for this higher end, and +with no other intention, the state assembles an armed force. When the +problem of the application of this armed force arises, when it is +a question of hazarding all the aims of the state in the +abstract-property, personal freedom, life, welfare, and the +continuance of the state itself--when, answerable to God alone, they +are called upon to decide without a clear and rational conception of +the sure attainment of the end in view, which in matters of this sort +it is never possible to gain--then only the true primitive life holds +the rudder of the state, and here for the first time enters the true +sovereign right of the government, like God, to imperil the lower +life for the sake of the higher. In the maintenance of the traditional +organization, of the laws, and of civic welfare, there is absolutely +no genuine life and no primitive decision. Circumstances and +situations, legislators who have perhaps long been dead, have created +those things; succeeding ages go trustingly forward in the road they +have entered, and thus, as a matter of fact, they do not live a public +life of their own, but merely repeat a former. In such periods there +is no need of a real government. If, however, this uniform progress +is imperiled, and the problem arises of deciding with reference to +new cases, then a life is required which has its roots in itself. What +spirit is it, now, which in such cases may take its place at the helm, +which is able to decide with individual certainty and without uneasy +wavering, and which has an indubitable right authoritatively to lay +demands upon every one who may be concerned, whether he will or not, +and to compel the recalcitrant to imperil everything, even to his +life? Not the spirit of calm civilian love for the constitution and +the laws, but the burning flame of the higher patriotism which regards +the nation as the veil of the eternal, for which the noble joyfully +sacrifices himself, and for which the ignoble, who exists only for +the sake of the noble, should also sacrifice himself! It is not that +civilian love for the constitution, for this is absolutely incapable +of such action if it is founded on reason only. + +Whatever may be the outcome, since governance is not unrewarded, some +one will always be found to take charge of it. Let the new ruler even +favor slavery (and in what does slavery consist except in contempt +and suppression of the individuality of a primitive people?), since +advantage may be derived from the life of slaves, from their number, +and even from their welfare, then slavery will be endurable under him +provided he is a calculator to any extent. They will at least always +find life and support. Why, then, should they thus struggle? According +to both of them, it is peace which transcends everything in their +opinion, but this is disturbed only by the continuance of the +struggle. The slave, therefore, puts forth every effort to end it +quickly; he will yield and submit--and why should he not? He never had +a higher purpose, and he has never expected anything more from life +than the continuance of his existence under endurable conditions. The +promise of a life lasting, even here, beyond the duration of earthly +life--this alone is what can inspire him to death for the fatherland. + +Thus it has always been. Wheresoever real government has existed, +where serious struggles have been fought out, where victory has been +won against mighty resistance, it has been the promise of eternal +life that governed and fought and conquered. The German Protestants, +formerly mentioned in these addresses, fought with faith in this +promise. Did they not perhaps know that nations might also be governed +with the old faith and be held in legal order, and that a good +livelihood might be found under this faith also? Why, then, did +their princes thus determine upon armed resistance, and why did their +peoples lend themselves to it with enthusiasm? It was heaven and +eternal happiness for which they gladly shed their blood. Yet what +earthly power could then have penetrated into the inmost sanctuary of +their souls and have been able to eradicate the faith which had now +once sprung up within them, and on which alone they based their hope +of salvation? It was not, therefore, their own happiness for which +they struggled--of that they were already assured; it was the +happiness of their children, of their grandchildren still unborn, +and of all posterity. These, too, should be brought up in the same +doctrine which alone seemed to them to bring salvation; they, too, +should share in the salvation which had dawned for them. It was this +hope alone that was threatened by the foe; for that hope, for an order +of things which should bloom above their graves long after they were +dead, they shed their blood thus joyfully. If we grant that they were +not entirely clear to themselves, that in their designation of the +noblest they verbally mistook what was within them, and with their +mouths did injustice to their souls; if we willingly acknowledge that +their confession of faith was not the sole and exclusive means of +attaining heaven beyond the grave--yet, this, at least, is eternally +true that more heaven on this side of the grave, a more courageous and +more joyous lifting of the gaze above the earth, and a freer impulse +of spirit have come through their sacrifice into all the life of +succeeding ages; and the descendants of their opponents, as well as +we ourselves, their own descendants, enjoy the fruits of their labors +unto this day. + +In this belief our oldest common ancestors, the parent nation of +civilization, the Teutons whom the Romans called Germans, boldly +opposed the advancing world-dominion of the Romans. Did they not then +see before their eyes the higher bloom of the Roman provinces near +them, the more refined enjoyments in them, and, in addition, laws, +judgment-seats, rods, and axes in superabundance? Were not the Romans +willing enough to allow them to share in all these blessings? Did they +not experience, in the case of several of their own princes who had +allowed themselves to be persuaded that war against such benefactors +of humanity was rebellion, proofs of the lauded Roman clemency, +since Rome adorned these submissive lords with kingly titles, with +generalships in their armies, and with Roman fillets, and gave +them, if, perchance, they had been driven out by their compatriots, +maintenance and a place of refuge in their colonies? Had they no +feeling for the advantages of Roman culture, as, for example, for the +better organization of their armies, in which even an Arminius did +not disdain to learn the trade of war? None of all these ignorances +or negligences is to be charged against them. Their descendents even +adopted the culture of the Romans as soon as they could do it without +loss of their freedom and in so far as it was possible without +impairment of their individuality. Why did they, then, thus struggle +for several generations in sanguinary war, ever renewed with the same +virulence? A Roman author makes their leaders ask "whether anything +was then left for them except either to assert their freedom or to die +before they became slaves?" Freedom meant to them that they remained +Germans, that they continued to decide their affairs independently, +in conformity with their national genius, and, likewise in conformity +with this spirit, that they continued to go forward in their +development and transmitted this independence to their posterity; +slavery meant to them all the blessings which the Romans offered them, +because in that case they must be something else than Germans--they +might be half Romans. It is self-evident, they presuppose, that every +one would rather die than become thus, and that a true German can wish +to live only that he may be and remain forever a German and may train +all that belong to him to be Germans also. + +They have not all died; they have not seen slavery; they have +bequeathed liberty to their children. All the modern world owes it to +their stubborn resistance that it exists as it does. If the Romans had +succeeded in subjugating them also and, as the Roman everywhere did, +in eradicating them as a nation, then the entire future development of +mankind would have taken a direction that we cannot imagine would +have been more pleasant. We, the immediate heirs of their land, their +language, and their thought, owe it to them that we be still Germans, +that the stream of primitive and independent life still bear us on; +to them we owe everything that we have since become as a nation; and, +unless we have now perhaps come to an end, and unless the last drop +of blood inherited from them is dried up in our veins, we shall owe +to them all that we shall be in the future. Even the other Teutonic +races, among whom are our brethren, and who have now become foreigners +to us, owe to them their existence; when they conquered eternal Rome, +no one of all these nations yet existed; at that time the possibility +of their future origin was simultaneously won in the struggle. + +These, and all others in universal history who have been of their type +of thought, have conquered because the eternal inspired them, and thus +this inspiration ever and of necessity prevails over him who is not +inspired. It is not the might of arms nor the fitness of weapons +that wins victories, but the power of the soul. He who sets himself +a limited goal for his sacrifices, and who can dare no further than a +certain point, surrenders resistance as soon as the danger reaches a +crisis where he cannot yield or dodge. He who has set himself no limit +whatsoever, but who hazards everything, even life--the highest +boon that can be lost on earth--never ceases to resist, and, if his +opponent has a more limited goal, he indubitably conquers. A people +that is capable, though it be only in its highest representatives and +leaders, of keeping firmly before its vision independence, the face +from the spirit world, and of being inspired with love for it, as +were our remotest forefathers, surely conquers a people that, like the +Roman armies, is used merely as a tool for foreign dominion and for +the subjugation of independent nations; for the former have everything +to lose, the latter have merely something to gain. But even a whim can +prevail over the mental attitude which regards war as a game of hazard +for temporal gain or loss, and which, even before the game starts, has +fixed the limit of the stake. Think, for example, of a Mohammed--not +the real Mohammed of history, concerning whom I confess that I have +no judgment, but the Mohammed of a distinguished French poet--who +had once become firmly convinced that he was one of the extraordinary +natures who are called to guide the obscure and common folk of earth, +and to whom, in consequence of this first presupposition, all his +whims, however meagre and limited they may really be, must necessarily +appear to be great, exalted and inspiring ideas because they are his +own, while everything that opposes them must seem obscure, common +folk, enemies of their own weal, evil-minded, and hateful. Such a man, +in order to justify this self-conceit to himself as a divine vocation, +and entirely absorbed in this thought, must stake everything upon it, +nor can he rest until he has trampled under foot all that will not +think as highly of him as he does himself, or until his own belief in +his divine mission is reflected from the whole contemporary world. I +shall not say what would be his fortunes in case a spiritual vision +that is true and clear within itself should actually come against +him on the field of battle, but he certainly wins from those limited +gamblers, for he hazards everything against those who do not so +hazard; no spirit inspires them, but he is altogether inspired by a +fanatical spirit--that of his mighty and powerful self-conceit. + +It follows from all this that the state, as mere governance of human +life proceeding in its normal peaceable course, is not a primal thing +and one existing for itself, but that it is simply the means to the +higher end of the eternally uniform development of the purely human in +this nation; that it is only the vision and the love of this eternal +development which is continually to guide the higher outlook upon the +administration of the state, even in periods of calm, and which alone +can save the independence of the nation when this is endangered. In +the case of the Germans, among whom, as being a primitive people, this +love of country was possible and, as we firmly believe, has actually +existed hitherto, such patriotism could, up to our own time, count +with a high degree of certainty upon the safety of its most important +interests. As was the case only among the Greeks in antiquity, among +the Germans the State and the nation were actually severed from +each other, and each was represented separately; the former in the +individual German kingdoms and principalities; the latter visibly in +the Federation of the Empire, and invisibly--valid not in consequence +of written law but as a sequence of a law living in the hearts of all, +and in its results striking the eyes at every turn--in a multitude +of customs and institutions. As far as the German language extended, +every one who saw the light within its domain could regard himself +as a citizen in a two-fold sense, partly of his natal city, to whose +immediate protection he was recommended; and partly of the entire +common fatherland of the German nation. Throughout the whole extent of +this fatherland each man might seek for himself that culture which was +most akin to his spirit, or he might search for the sphere of activity +most suited for it; and talent did not grow into its place, like a +tree, but he was permitted to search for that place. He who became +estranged from his immediate surroundings through the direction taken +by his culture, easily found welcome reception elsewhere; he found new +friends instead of those whom he had lost; he found time and quiet in +which to explain himself more accurately and perhaps to win over and +to reconcile the wrathful themselves, and thus to unite the whole. No +German-born prince could ever bring himself to mark off the fatherland +of his subjects within the mountains or rivers where he ruled, and to +regard them as bound to the soil. A truth which could not be uttered +in one place might be proclaimed in another, where, perhaps, on the +contrary, those truths were forbidden which were allowable in the +former district; and thus, despite many instances of partiality and +narrow-mindedness in the individual states, in Germany, taken as +a whole, was found the utmost freedom of investigation and of +communication that ever a nation possessed. Higher culture was, and +remained on every hand, the result of the reciprocity of the citizens +of all German states, and this higher culture then gradually descended +in this form to the greater masses, who, consequently, have always, +on the whole, continued to educate themselves. As has been said, no +German with a German heart, placed at the head of a government, has +ever diminished this essential pledge of the continuance of a German +nation; and even though, in view of other primitive decisions, what +the higher German patriotism must desire was not invariably to +be effected, yet at least there was no direct opposition to its +interests; no effort was made to undermine that love, to eradicate it, +and to replace it by an antagonistic love. + +But if, now, the original guidance both of that higher culture and +of the national power--which should be used only in behalf of that +culture and to further its continuance--the employment of German +wealth and German blood is to pass from the supremacy of the German +spirit to that of another, what would then necessarily result? + +Here is the place where there is special need of applying the policy +which we outlined in our first address, namely, to be unwilling to +be deceived in regard to our own interest, and to have the courage +willingly to see the truth and acknowledge it. Moreover, it is still +permissible, so far as I know, to talk with one another in German +about our fatherland, or at least to sigh in German, and, I +believe, we should not do well if we ourselves precipitated such an +interdiction and wished to lay the fetters of individual timidity on +the courage which, no doubt, will already have considered the risk of +the venture. + +Well then, picture to yourself the presupposed new régime to be as +kind and as benevolent as you will; make it good as God; will you also +be able to invest it with divine understanding? Even though it may, in +all earnestness, desire the highest happiness and welfare of all, +will the best welfare that it can comprehend also be the welfare of +Germany? I accordingly hope that I shall be perfectly understood in +reference to the main point that I have presented to you today; I hope +that in the course of my remarks many have thought and felt that I +merely express clearly in words what has always lain within their +hearts; I hope the same will be the case with the other Germans +who will some day read this address. Several Germans have said +approximately the same things before me, and that sentiment has +lain obscurely at the basis of the opposition continually manifested +against a merely mechanical establishment and estimate of the State. +And now I challenge all who are acquainted with modern foreign +literature to prove to me what later sage, poet, or lawgiver among +them has ever given birth to a prophetic thought similar to this, +which regarded the human race as being in continual progress, and +which correlated all its temporal activity only with this progress; +whether any one of them, even in the period when they soared most +boldly to political creation, demanded from the state more than +equality, internal peace, external national fame, and, when their +demands reached the extreme limit, domestic happiness? If this is +their highest conception, as must be deduced from all that has been +said, they can attribute to us likewise no higher needs and no +higher demands upon life, and--always presupposing those beneficent +sentiments toward us and an absence of all selfishness and of all +desire to be more than we--they believe that they have made admirable +provision for us when they give us all that they alone recognize as +desirable. On the other hand, that for which alone the nobler soul +among us can live is then eradicated from public life, and the people, +who have always shown themselves receptive toward the impulses of +higher things, and the majority of whom, it might be hoped, could even +be raised to that nobility, are--in so far as it is treated as they +wish it to be treated--abased beneath its rank, dishonored, and +blotted out, since it coalesces with the populace of the baser sort. + +If, now, those higher claims upon life, together with the sense of +their divine right, still remain living and potent in any one, he, +with deep indignation, feels himself crushed back into those first +ages of Christianity in which it was said: "Resist not evil: but +whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other +also. And if any man will take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak +also." And rightly so, for as long as he still sees a cloak upon thee, +he seeks an opportunity to quarrel with thee in order to take this +also from thee; not until thou art utterly naked dost thou escape his +attention and art unmolested by him. Even his higher feelings, which +do him honor, make earth a hell and an abomination to him; he wishes +that he had not been born; he wishes that his eyes may close to the +light of day, the sooner the better; unceasing sorrow lays hold upon +his days until the grave claims him; he can wish for those dear to him +no better gift than a quiet and contented spirit, that with less pain +they may live on in expectation of an eternal life beyond the grave. + +These addresses lay upon you the task of preventing, by the sole means +which still remains after the others have been tried in vain, the +destruction of every nobler impulse that may in the future possibly +arise among us and this debasement of our entire nation. They present +to you a true and omnipotent patriotism, which, in the conception +of our nation as of one that is eternal, and as citizens of our own +eternity, is to be deeply and ineradicably founded in the minds of +all, by means of education. What this education may be, and in what +way it may be achieved, we shall see in the following addresses. + +[Illustration: VOLUNTEERS OF 1813 BEFORE KING FRIEDRICH WILHELM III IN +BRESLAU _From the Painting by F.W. Scholtz_] + + * * * * * + + + + +ADDRESS FOURTEEN + +Conclusion of the Whole + + +The addresses which I here conclude have, indeed, been directed +primarily to you,[4] but they had in view the entire German nation; +and, in intention, they have gathered about them, in the space wherein +you visibly breathe, all that would be capable of understanding +them as far as the German tongue extends. Should I have succeeded in +casting into any bosom throbbing before my eyes some sparks which may +glimmer on and take life, it is not in my thought that they remain +solitary and alone, but, traversing the whole ground in common, I +would gather about them similar sentiments and purposes and weld them +so unitedly that a continuous and coherent flame of patriotic thought +might spread and be enkindled from this centre over the soil of the +fatherland and to its furthest bounds. My addresses have not been +directed to this generation for the pastime of idle ears and eyes, but +I desire at last to know--even as every one who is like-minded should +know--whether there is anything outside us that is akin to our type +of thought. Every German who still believes that he is a member of a +nation, who thinks of it in grand and noble fashion, who hopes in it, +and who dares, suffers, and endures for it, should at last be torn +from the uncertainty of his belief; he should clearly discern whether +he is right or whether he is only a fool and a fanatic; henceforth he +should either continue his path with sure and joyous consciousness, +or, with healthy resolution, should renounce a fatherland here below +and comfort himself solely with that which is in heaven. To you, +therefore, not as such-and-such persons in our daily and circumscribed +life, but as representatives of the nation, and, through your ears, to +the nation as a whole, these addresses appeal. + +Centuries have passed since you have been convened as you are +today--in such numbers, in so great, so insistent, so mutual an +interest, so absolutely as a nation and as Germans. Never again will +you be so bidden. If you do not listen now and examine yourselves, if +you again let these addresses pass you by as an empty tickling of the +ears or as a strange prodigy, no human being will longer take account +of you. Hear at last for once; for once at last reflect! Only do not +go this time from the spot without having made a firm resolve; let +every one who hears this voice make this resolution within himself +and for himself, even as though he were alone and must do everything +alone. If very many individuals think thus, there will soon be a great +whole uniting into a single, close-knit power. If, on the contrary, +each one, excluding himself, relies on the rest and relinquishes the +affair to others, then there are no others at all, for, even though +combined, all remain just as they were before. Make it on the +spot--this resolution! Do not say, "Yet a little more sleep, a +little more slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep," until, +perchance, improvement shall come of itself. It will never come of +itself. He who has once missed the opportunity of yesterday, when +clear perception would have been easier, will not be able to make +up his mind today, and will certainly be even less able to do so +tomorrow. Every delay only makes us still more inert and but lulls us +more and more into gentle acquiescence to our wretched plight. Neither +could the external stimulations to reflection ever be stronger and +more insistent, for surely he whom these present conditions do not +arouse has lost all feeling. You have been called together to make +a last, determined resolution and decision--not by any means to give +commands and mandates to others, or to depute others to do the work +for you. No, my purpose is to urge you to do the work yourself. In +this connection that idle passing of resolutions, the will to will, +some time or other, are not sufficient, nor is it enough to remain +sluggishly satisfied until self-improvement sets in of its own +accord. On the contrary, from you is demanded a determination which +is identical with action and with life itself, and which will continue +and control, unwavering and unchilled, until it gains its goal. + +Or is perchance the root, from which alone can grow a tenacity of +purpose which takes hold upon life, utterly eradicated and vanished +within you? Or is your whole being actually rarefied into a hollow +shade, devoid of sap and blood and of individual power of movement, or +dissolved to a dream in which, indeed, a motley array of faces arise +and busily cross one another, but the body lies stiff and dead? Long +since it has been openly proclaimed to our generation and repeated +under every guise, that this is very nearly its condition. Its +spokesmen have believed that this was declared merely in insult, and +have regarded themselves as challenged to return the insults, thinking +that thus the affair would resume its natural course. As for the rest, +there was not the slightest trace of change or of improvement. If +you have heard this, and if it was capable of rousing your +indignation--well then, through your very actions, give the lie to +those who thus think and speak of you. Once show yourselves to be +different before the eyes of all the world, and before the eyes of all +the world they will be convicted of their falsehood. It may be that +they have spoken thus harshly of you with the precise intention of +forcing this refutation from you, and because they despaired of any +other means of arousing you. How much better, then, would have been +their intentions toward you than were the purposes of those who +flattered you that you might be kept in sluggish calm and in careless +thoughtlessness! + +However weak and powerless you may be, during this period clear and +calm reflection has been vouchsafed you as never before. What +really plunged us into confusion regarding our position, into +thoughtlessness, into a blind way of letting things go, was our sweet +complacency with ourselves and our mode of existence. Things had thus +gone on hitherto, and so they continued and would continue to go. If +any one challenged us to reflect, we triumphantly showed him, instead +of any other refutation, our continued existence which went on without +any thought or effort on our part; yet things flowed along simply +because we were not put to the test. Since that time we have passed +through the ordeal and it might be supposed that the deceptions, the +delusions, and the false consolations with which we all misguided one +another would have collapsed! The innate prejudices which, without +proceeding from this point or from that, spread over all like a +natural cloud and wrapped all in the same mist, ought surely, by this +time, to have utterly vanished! That twilight no longer obscures our +eyes, and can therefore no longer serve for an excuse. Now we stand, +naked and bare, stripped of all alien coverings and draperies, simply +as ourselves. Now it must appear what each self is, or is not. + +Some one among you might come forward and ask me "What gives you in +particular, the only one among all German men and authors, the special +task, vocation, and prerogative of convening us and inveighing against +us? Would not any one among the thousands of the writers of Germany +have exactly the same right to do this as you have? None of them does +it; you alone push yourself forward." I answer that each one would, +indeed, have had the same right as I, and that I do it for the very +reason that no one among them has done it before me; that I would be +silent if any one else had spoken previous to me. This was the first +step toward the goal of a radical amelioration, and some one must take +it. I seemed to be the first vividly to perceive this--accordingly, it +was I who first took it. After this, a second step will be taken, and +thereto every one has now the same right; but, as a matter of fact, +it, in its turn, will be taken by but one individual. One man must +always be the first, and let him be he who can! + +Without anxiety regarding this circumstance, let your attention rest +for an instant on the consideration to which we have previously led +you--in how enviable a position Germany and the world would be if the +former had known how to utilize the good fortune of her position and +to recognize her advantage. Let your eyes rest upon what they both +are now, and let your minds be penetrated by the pain and indignation +which, in this reflection, must lay hold upon every noble soul. Then +examine yourselves and see that it is you who can release the age from +the errors of ancient times, and that, if only you will permit it, +your own eyes can be cleared of the mist that covers them; learn, too, +that it has been vouchsafed to you, as to no generation before you, to +undo what has been done and to efface the dishonorable interval from +the annals of the German nation. + +Let the various conditions among which you must choose pass before +you. If you drift along in your torpor and your heedlessness, all the +evils of slavery await you--deprivations, humiliations, the scorn and +arrogance of the conqueror; you will be pushed about from pillar to +post, because you have never found your proper niche, until, through +the sacrifice of your nationality and of your language, you slip into +some subordinate place where your nation shall sink its identity. If, +on the other hand, you rouse yourselves, you will find, first of all, +an enduring and honorable existence, and will behold a flourishing +generation which promises to you and to the Germans the most glorious +and lasting memory. Through the instrumentality of this new generation +you will see in spirit the German name exalted to the most glorious +among all nations; you will discern in this nation the regenerator and +restorer of the world. + +It depends upon you whether you will be the last of a dishonorable +race, even more surely despised by posterity than it deserves, and in +whose history--if there can be any history in the barbarism which will +then begin--succeeding generations will rejoice when it perishes and +will praise fate that it is just; or whether you will be the beginning +and the point of development of a new age which will be glorious +beyond all your expectations, and become those from whom posterity +will date the year of their salvation. Bethink yourselves that you +are the last in whose power this great change lies. You have heard +the Germans called a unit; you have still a visible sign of their +unity--an Empire and an Imperial League--or you have heard of it; +among you even yet, from time to time, voices have been audible which +were inspired by this higher patriotism. After you become accustomed +to other concepts and will accept alien forms and a different course +of occupation and of life--how long will it then be before no one +longer lives who has seen Germans or who has heard of them? + +What is demanded of you is not much. You should only keep before you +the necessity of pulling yourselves together for a little time and of +reflecting upon what lies immediately and obviously before your eyes. +You should merely form for yourselves a fixed opinion regarding +this situation, remain true to it, and utter and express it in your +immediate surroundings. It is the presupposition, yea, it is our firm +conviction, that this reflection will lead to the same result in all +of you; that, if you only seriously consider, and do not continue in +your previous heedlessness, you will think in harmony; and that, +if you can bring your intelligence to bear, and if only you do not +continue to vegetate, unanimity and unity of spirit will come of +themselves. If, however, matters once reach this point, all else that +we need will result automatically. + +This reflection is, moreover, demanded from each one of you who can +still consider for himself something lying obviously before his eyes. +You have time for this; events will not take you unawares; the records +of the negotiations conducted with you will remain before your eyes. +Lay them not from your hands until you are in unity with your selves. +Neither let, oh, let not yourselves be made supine by reliance upon +others or upon anything whatsoever that lies outside yourselves, nor +yet through the unintelligent belief of our time that the epochs of +history are made by the agency of some unknown power without any aid +from man. These addresses have never wearied in impressing upon you +that absolutely nothing can help you but yourselves, and they find it +necessary to repeat this to the last moment. Rain and dew, fruitful or +unfruitful years, may indeed be made by a power which is unknown to us +and is not under our control; but only men themselves--and absolutely +no power outside them--give to each epoch its particular stamp. Only +when they are all equally blind and ignorant do they fall the victims +of this hidden power, though it is within their own control not to +be blind and ignorant. It is true that to whatever degree, greater +or less, things may go ill with us, in part depends upon that unknown +power; but far more is it dependent upon the intelligence and the good +will of those to whom we are subjected. Whether, on the other hand, +it will ever again be well with us depends wholly upon ourselves; +and surely nevermore will any welfare whatsoever come to us unless we +ourselves acquire it for ourselves--especially unless each individual +among us toils and labors in his own way as though he were alone and +as though the salvation of future generations depended solely upon +him. + +This is what you have to do; and these addresses adjure you to do this +without delay. + +They adjure you, young men! I, who have long since ceased to belong +to you, maintain--and I have also expressed my conviction in these +addresses--that you are yet more capable of every thought transcending +the commonplace, and are more easily aroused to all that is good and +great, because your time of life still lies closer to the years of +childish innocence and of nature. Very differently does the majority +of the older generation regard this fundamental trait in you. It +accuses you of arrogance, of a rash, presumptuous judgment which soars +beyond your strength, of obstinacy, and of desire of innovation; yet +it merely smiles good-naturedly at these, your errors. All this, it +thinks, is based simply on your lack of knowledge of the world, that +is, of universal human corruption, since it has eyes for nothing else +on earth. You are now supposed to have courage only because you hope +to find help-mates like-minded with yourselves and because you do not +know the grim and stubborn resistance which will be opposed to your +projects of improvement. When the youthful fire of your imagination +shall once have vanished, when you shall have perceived the universal +selfishness, idleness, and horror of work, when you yourselves shall +once rightly have tasted the sweetness of plodding on in the customary +rut--then the desire to be better and wiser than all others will soon +fade away. They do not by any chance entertain these good expectations +of you in imagination alone; they have found them confirmed in their +own persons. They must confess that in the days of their foolish youth +they dreamed of improving the world, exactly as you dream today; yet +with increasing maturity they have become tame and quiet as you see +them now. I believe them; in my own experience, which has not been +very protracted, I have seen that young men who at first roused +different hopes nevertheless, later, exactly fulfilled the kind +expectations of mature age. Do this no longer, young men, for how else +could a better generation ever begin? The bloom of youth will indeed +fall from you, and the flame of imagination will cease to be nourished +from itself; but feed this flame and brighten it through clear +thought, make this way of thinking your own, and as an additional gift +you will gain character, the fairest adornment of man. Through this +clear thinking you will preserve the fountain of eternal youth; +however your bodies grow old or your knees become feeble, your spirit +will be reborn in freshness ever renewed, and your character will +stand firm and unchangeable. Seize at once the opportunity here +offered you; reflect clearly upon the theme presented for your +deliberation; and the clarity which has dawned for you in one point +will gradually spread over all others as well. + +These addresses adjure you, old men! You are regarded as you have just +heard, and you are told so to your faces; and for his own past the +speaker frankly adds that--excluding the exceptions which, it must +be admitted, not infrequently occur, and which are all the more +admirable--the world is perfectly right with regard to the great +majority among you. Go through the history of the last two or three +decades; everything except yourselves agrees--and even you yourselves +agree, each one in the specialty that does not immediately concern +him--that (always excluding the exceptions, and regarding only the +majority) the greatest uselessness and selfishness are found in +advanced years in all branches, in science as well as in practical +occupations. The whole world has witnessed that every one who desired +the better and the more perfect still had to wage the bitterest battle +with you in addition to the battle with his own uncertainty and with +his other surroundings; that you were firmly resolved that nothing +must thrive which you had not done and known in the same way; that you +regarded every impulse of thought as an insult to your intelligence; +and that you left no power unutilized to conquer in this battle +against improvement--and in fact you generally did prevail. Thus you +were the impeding power against all the improvements which kindly +nature offered us from her ever--youthful womb until you were +gathered to the dust which you were before, and until the succeeding +generations, which were at war with you, had become like unto you and +had adopted your attitude. Now, also, you need only conduct yourselves +as you have previously acted in case of all propositions for +amelioration; you need only again prefer to the general weal your +empty honor in order that there may be nothing between heaven and +earth that you have not already fathomed; then, through this last +battle, you are relieved from all further battle; no improvement +will accrue, but deterioration will follow in the footsteps of +deterioration, and thus there will be much satisfaction in reserve for +you. + +No one will suppose that I despise and depreciate old age as old +age. If only the source of primitive life and of its continuance is +absorbed into life through freedom, then clarity--and strength with +it--increases so long as life endures. Such a life is easier to live; +the dross of earthly origin falls away more and ever more; it is +ennobled to the life eternal and strives toward it. The experience +of such an old age is irreconcilable with evil, and it only makes the +means clearer and the skill more adroit victoriously to battle against +wickedness. Deterioration through increasing age is simply the fault +of our time, and it necessarily results in every place where society +is much corrupted. It is not nature which corrupts us--she produces +us in innocence; it is society. He who has once surrendered to the +influence of society must naturally become ever worse and worse the +longer he is exposed to this influence. It would be worth the trouble +to investigate the history of other extremely corrupt generations in +this regard, and to see whether--for example, under the rule of the +Roman emperors--what was once bad did not continually become worse +with increasing age. + +First of all, therefore, these addresses adjure you, old men and +experienced--you who form the exception! Confirm, strengthen, counsel +in this matter the younger generation, which reverently looks up to +you. And the rest of you also, who are average souls, they adjure! +If you are not to help, at least do not interfere, this time; do not +again--as always hitherto--put yourselves in the way with your wisdom +and with your thousand hesitations. This thing, like every rational +thing in the world, is not complicated, but simple; and it also +belongs among the thousand matters which you know not. If your wisdom +could save, it would surely have saved us before; for it is you who +have counseled us thus far. Now, like everything else, all this is +forgiven you, and you should no longer be reproached with it. Only +learn at last once to know yourselves, and be silent. + +These addresses adjure you men of affairs! With few exceptions you +have thus far been cordially hostile to abstract thought and to all +learning which desired to be something for itself, even though you +demeaned yourselves as if you merely haughtily despised all this. +As far as you possibly could, you held from you the men who did such +things as well as their propositions; the reproach of lunacy, or the +advice that they be sent to the mad-house, was the thanks from you on +which they might usually count. They, in their turn, did not venture +to express themselves regarding you with the same frankness, since +they were dependent upon you; but their innermost thought was this, +that, with a few exceptions, you were shallow babblers and inflated +braggarts, dilettante who have only passed through school, blind +gropers and creepers in the old rut who had neither wish nor ability +for aught else. Give them the lie through your deeds, and to this end +grasp the opportunity now offered you; lay aside that contempt for +profound thought and learning; let yourselves be advised and hear and +learn what you do not know, or else your accusers win their case. + +These addresses adjure you, thinkers, scholars, and authors who are +still worthy of this name! In a certain sense that reproach of the men +of affairs was not unjust. You often proceeded too unconcerned in +the realm of abstract thought, without troubling yourselves about the +actual world and without considering how the one might be connected +with the other; you circumscribed your own world for yourselves, and +let the real world lie to one side, disdained and despised. Every +regulation and every formation of actual life must, it is true, +proceed from the higher regulating concept, and progress in the +customary rut is insufficient for it; this is an eternal truth, and, +in God's name, it crushes with undisguised contempt every one who +is so bold as to busy himself with affairs without knowing this. Yet +between the concept and the introduction of it into any individual +life there is a great gulf fixed. The filling of this gulf is the +task both of the men of affairs--who, however, must already first have +learned enough to understand you--and also of yourselves, who should +not forget life on account of the world of thought. Here you both +meet. Instead of regarding each other askance and depreciating each +other across the gulf, endeavor rather to fill it, each on his own +side, and thus seek to construct the road to union. At last, I beg +you, realize that you both are as mutually necessary to each other as +head and arm are indispensable the one to the other. + +In other respects as well, these addresses adjure you, thinkers, +scholars, and authors who are still worthy of this name! Your laments +over the general shallowness, thoughtlessness, and superficiality, +over self-conceit and inexhaustible babble, over the contempt for +seriousness and profundity in all classes, may be true, even as they +actually are. Yet what class is it, pray, that has educated all these +classes, that has transformed everything pertaining to science into a +jest for them, and that has trained them from their earliest youth +in that self-conceit and that babble? Who is it, pray, who still +continues to educate the generations that have outgrown the schools? +The most obvious source of the torpor of the age is that it has read +itself torpid in the writings which you have written. Why are you, +nevertheless, so continually solicitous to amuse this idle people, +despite the fact that you know that they have learned nothing and wish +to learn nothing? Why do you call them "the Public," flatter them as +your judge, stir them up against your rivals, and seek by every means +to win this blind and confused mob over to your side? Finally, in your +literary reviews and in your magazines, why do you yourselves furnish +them with material and example for rash judgments by yourselves +judging as unconnectedly, as carelessly, as recklessly, and, for the +most part, as tastelessly as even the least of your readers could? +If you do not all think thus, and if among you there are still some +animated by better sentiments, why, then, do not these latter unite to +put an end to the evil? As to those men of affairs, in particular they +have passed through your schools--you say so yourselves. Why, then, +did you not at least make use of this transit of theirs to inspire in +them some silent respect for learning, and especially to break betimes +the self-conceit of the young aristocrat and to show him that +birth and station are of no assistance in the realm of thought? If, +perchance, even at that time you flattered him and exalted him unduly, +now endure that for which you yourselves are responsible. + +These addresses desire to excuse you on the supposition that you had +not grasped the importance of your occupation; they adjure you that, +from this hour, you make yourselves acquainted with this importance, +and that you no longer ply your occupation as a mere trade. Learn to +respect yourselves, and by your actions show that you do so, and the +world will respect you. You will give the first proof of this through +the amount of influence which you assume in regard to the resolution +that is proposed, and through the manner in which you conduct +yourselves regarding it. + +These addresses adjure you, princes of Germany! Those who act toward +you as though no man dared say aught to you, or had aught to say, are +despicable flatterers, are base slanderers of you yourselves. Drive +them far from you! The truth is that you were born exactly as ignorant +as all the rest of us, and that, exactly like ourselves, you must hear +and learn if you are to escape from this natural ignorance. Your share +in bringing about the fate which has befallen you simultaneously with +your peoples is here set forth in the mildest way and, as we believe, +in the way which is alone right and just; and in case you wish to +hear only flattery, and never the truth, you cannot complain regarding +these addresses. Let all this be forgotten, even as all the rest of us +also desire that our share in the guilt may be forgotten. Now begins +a new life as well for yourselves as for all of us. May this voice +penetrate to you through all the surroundings which normally make you +inaccessible! With proud self-reliance it dares to say to you: You +rule nations, faithful, plastic, and worthy of good fortune, such as +princes of no time and of no nation have ruled. They have a feeling +for freedom and are capable of it; but, because you so willed, they +have followed you into sanguinary war against that which to them +seemed freedom. Some among you have later willed otherwise, and, again +because you so willed, they have followed you into that which to them +must seem a war of annihilation against one of the last remnants of +German independence. Since that time they have endured and have borne +the oppressive burden of common woes; yet they do not cease to be +faithful to you, to cling to you with inward devotion, and to love +you as their divinely appointed guardians. Yet may you notice them, +unobserved by them; set free from surroundings which do not invariably +present to you the fairest aspect of humanity, may you be able to +descend into the house of the citizen, into the peasant's cottage, +and may you be able attentively to follow the still and hidden life of +these classes, in which the fidelity and the probity which have become +more rare in the higher classes seem to have sought refuge! Surely, +oh, surely, you will resolve to reflect more seriously than ever how +they may be helped! These addresses have proposed to you a means of +assistance which they believe to be sure, thorough, and decisive. Let +your councillors deliberate whether they also find it so or whether +they know a better means, provided only that it be equally decisive. +But the conviction that something must be done and must be done +immediately, that this something must be radical and final, and +that the time for half-measures and procrastination is past--this +conviction these addresses would fain produce, if they could, in +you personally, as they still cherish the utmost confidence in your +integrity. + +These addresses adjure you, Germans as a whole, whatever position +you may take in society, that each one among you who can think, think +first of all upon the theme that has been suggested, and that each one +do for it exactly what in his own place lies nearest to him. + +Your forefathers unite with these addresses and adjure you. Imagine +that in my voice are mingled the voices of your ancestors from dim +antiquity, who with their bodies opposed the on-rushing dominion of +the world-power of Rome, who with their blood won the independence of +the mountains, plains, and streams which, under your governance, have +become the booty of the stranger. They call to you: Represent us; +transmit to posterity our memory honorable and blameless as it came +to you, and as you have boasted of it and of descent from us. Thus far +our resistance has been held to be noble and great and wise; we seemed +to be initiated into the secrets of the divine plan of the universe. +If our race terminates with you, our honor is turned to shame and our +wisdom to folly. For if the German stock was some time to be merged +into that of Rome, it was better that this had been into the old Rome +than into a new. We faced the former and conquered it; before the +latter you have been scattered like the dust. Now, however, since +affairs are as they are, you are not to conquer them with physical +weapons; only your spirit is to rise and stand upright over against +them. To you has been vouchsafed the greater destiny of establishing +generally the empire of the spirit and of reason, and of wholly +annihilating rude physical power as that which dominates the world. If +you shall do this, then are you worthy of descent from us. + +In these voices also mingle the spirits of your later ancestors, of +those who fell in the holy struggle for freedom of religion and of +faith. Save our honor, likewise, they cry to you. It was not wholly +clear to us for what we fought. Besides the legitimate resolve not to +allow ourselves to be dominated in matters of conscience by a foreign +power, we were also impelled by a higher spirit who never revealed +himself entirely unto us. To you this spirit is revealed, if you have +the power to look into the spirit world, and he gazes upon you +with clear and lofty eyes. The motley and confused intermingling of +sensuous and of spiritual impulses is wholly to be deposed from +its world-dominion; and spirit alone, absolute, and stripped of all +sensuous impulses, is to take the helm of human affairs. Our blood was +shed that this spirit might have freedom to develop and to grow to an +independent existence. Upon you it depends to give to this sacrifice +its signification and its justification by installing this spirit into +the world-dominion destined for him. If this is not the final goal +toward which all the development of our nation has thus far aimed, +our struggles, too, become a passing, empty farce, and the freedom of +spirit and of conscience that we won is an empty word, if henceforth +there is to be no longer any spirit or any conscience whatsoever. + +Your descendants, still unborn, adjure you. You boast of your +forefathers, they cry to you, and proudly you connect yourselves with +a noble lineage. Take care that the chain may not be broken in you; so +do that we also may boast of you, and that through you, as through +a faultless link, we may connect ourselves with the same glorious +lineage. Cause us not to be compelled to be ashamed of our descent +from you as a descent that is low, barbarous, and slavish, so that +we must conceal our ancestry or must feign an alien name and an alien +lineage, lest we be immediately rejected or trodden under foot without +further test. On the next generation that will proceed from you, will +depend your fame in history: honorable, if this honorably witnesses +for you; but ignominious, even beyond desert, if you have no offspring +to speak for you, and if it is left to the victor to write your +history. Never yet has a victor had sufficient inclination or +sufficient knowledge rightly to judge the conquered. The more he +abases them, the more justified does he appear. Who can know what +mighty deeds, what magnificent institutions, and what noble customs of +many a people of antiquity have been forgotten because their posterity +was subjugated, and because, ungainsaid, the conqueror made his report +upon them in accordance with his interests? + +Even foreign lands adjure you so far as they still understand +themselves in the very least, and still have an eye for their true +advantage. Indeed, there are spirits among all peoples who still +cannot believe that the great promises made to the human race of a +reign of justice, of reason, and of truth can be a vain and an empty +phantom, and who assume, therefore, that the present iron age is but +a transit to a better state. They--and all modern humanity in +them--count on you. A great part of this humanity is descended from +us; the rest have received from us religion and culture. The former +adjure us by the soil of our common fatherland, which is also their +cradle, and which they have bequeathed free to us; the latter adjure +us by the culture which they have acquired from us as a pledge of a +higher happiness--they adjure us to maintain ourselves as we have ever +been, for their sake; and not to suffer this member, which is of so +much importance, to be torn from the continuity of the race that is +newly budded, lest they may painfully miss us if they some time need +our counsel, our example, our cooperation toward the true goal of +earthly life. + +All generations, all the wise and good who have ever breathed upon +this earth, all their thoughts and aspirations for something higher +mingle in these voices and surround you and lift to you imploring +hands. Even Providence, if we may so say, and the divine plan of the +universe in the creation of a human race--a plan which, indeed, exists +only to be thought out by man and to be realized by man--adjures you +to save its honor and its existence. Whether those are justified +who have believed that mankind must always grow better, and that +the conception of a certain order and dignity among them is no empty +dream, but the prophecy and the pledge of an ultimate actuality, +or whether those are to prevail who slumber on in their animal and +vegetative life, and who mock every flight to higher worlds-upon these +alternatives it is left to you to pass a final and decisive judgment. +The ancient world with its magnificence and with its grandeur, and +also with its faults, has sunk through its own unworthiness and +through your fathers' prowess. If there is truth in what has been +presented in these addresses, then, among all modern peoples, it is +you in whom the germ of the perfecting of humanity most decidedly +lies, and on whom progress in the development of this humanity is +enjoined. If you perish as a nation, all the hope of the entire human +race for rescue from the depths of its woe perishes together with you. +Do not hope and console yourselves with the imaginary idea, counting +on mere repetition of events that have already happened, that once +more, after the fall of the old civilization, a new one, proceeding +from a half-barbarous nation, will arise upon the ruins of the first. +In antiquity such a nation, equipped with all the requisites for +this destiny, was at hand, and was very well known to the nation of +culture, and was described by them; had they been able to imagine +their destruction, they themselves might have found in that +half-barbarous nation the means of their restoration. To us, also, the +entire surface of the earth is very well known, and all the peoples +that live upon it. Do we, then, now know any such people, like to +the aborigines of the New World, of whom similar expectations may be +entertained? I believe that every one who has not merely a fanatical +opinion and hope, but who thinks after profound investigation, will +be compelled to answer this question in the negative. There is, +therefore, no escape; if you sink, all humanity sinks with you, devoid +of hope of restoration at any future time. + +This it was, gentlemen, that at the close of these addresses I felt +compelled to impress upon you as representatives of the nation and, +through you, upon the nation as a whole. + + + + +_FRIEDRICH WILHELM JOSEPH VON SCHELLING_ + + * * * * * + +ON THE RELATION OF THE PLASTIC ARTS TO NATURE (1807) + +A Speech on the Celebration of the 12th October, 1807, as the Name-Day +of His Majesty the King of Bavaria + +Delivered before the Public Assembly of the Royal Academy of Sciences +of Munich + +TRANSLATED BY J. ELLIOT CABOT + + +Plastic Art, according to the most ancient expression, is silent +Poetry. The inventor of this definition no doubt meant thereby +that the former, like the latter, is to express spiritual +thoughts--conceptions whose source is the soul; only not by speech, +but, like silent Nature, by shape, by form, by corporeal, independent +works. + +Plastic Art, therefore, evidently stands as a uniting link between the +soul and Nature, and can be apprehended only in the living centre of +both. Indeed, since Plastic Art has its relation to the soul in common +with every other art, and particularly with Poetry, that by which +it is connected with Nature, and, like Nature, a productive force, +remains as its sole peculiarity; so that to this alone can a theory +relate which shall be satisfactory to the understanding, and helpful +and profitable to Art itself. + +We hope, therefore, in considering Plastic Art in relation to its +true prototype and original source, Nature, to be able to contribute +something new to its theory--to give some additional exactness or +clearness to the conceptions of it; but, above all, to set forth +the coherence of the whole structure of Art in the light of a higher +necessity. + +[Illustration: FRIEDRICH WILHELM JOSEPH VON SCHELLING Carl Begas] + +But has not Science always recognized this relation? Has not indeed +every theory of modern times taken its departure from this very +position, that Art should be the imitator of Nature? Such has indeed +been the case. But what should this broad general proposition +profit the artist, when the notion of Nature is of such various +interpretation, and when there are almost as many differing views of +it as there are various modes of life? Thus, to one, Nature is +nothing more than the lifeless aggregate of an indeterminable crowd +of objects, or the space in which, as in a vessel, he imagines things +placed; to another, only the soil from which he draws his nourishment +and support; to the inspired seeker alone, the holy, ever-creative +original energy of the world, which generates and busily evolves all +things out of itself. + +The proposition would indeed have a high significance, if it taught +Art to emulate this creative force; but the sense in which it was +meant can scarcely be doubtful to one acquainted with the universal +condition of Science at the time when it was first brought forward. +Singular enough that the very persons who denied all life to Nature +should set it up for imitation in Art! To them might be applied the +words of a profound writer:[5] "Your lying philosophy has put Nature +out of the way; and why do you call upon us to imitate her? Is it that +you may renew the pleasure by perpetrating the same violence on the +disciples of Nature?" + +Nature was to them not merely a dumb, but an altogether lifeless +image, in whose inmost being even no living word dwelt; a hollow +scaffolding of forms, of which as hollow an image was to be +transferred to the canvas, or hewn out of stone. + +This was the proper doctrine of those more ancient and savage nations, +who, as they saw in Nature nothing divine, fetched idols out of her; +whilst, to the susceptive Greeks, who everywhere felt the presence of +a vitally efficient principle, genuine gods arose out of Nature. + +But is, then, the disciple of Nature to copy everything in Nature +without distinction?--and, of everything, every part? Only beautiful +objects should be represented; and, even in these, only the Beautiful +and Perfect. + +Thus is the proposition further determined, but, at the same time, +this asserted, that, in Nature, the perfect is mingled with the +imperfect, the beautiful with the unbeautiful. Now, how should he who +stands in no other relation to Nature than that of servile imitation, +distinguish the one from the other? It is the way of imitators to +appropriate the faults of their model sooner and easier than its +excellences, since the former offer handles and tokens more easily +grasped; and thus we see that imitators of Nature in this sense have +imitated oftener, and even more affectionately, the ugly than the +beautiful. + +If we regard in things, not their principle, but the empty abstract +form, neither will they say anything to our soul; our own heart, our +own spirit we must put to it, that they answer us. + +But what is the perfection of a thing? Nothing else than the creative +life in it, its power to exist. Never, therefore, will he, who fancies +that Nature is altogether dead, be successful in that profound process +(analogous to the chemical) whence proceeds, purified as by fire, the +pure gold of Beauty and Truth. + +Nor was there any change in the main view of the relation of Art to +Nature, even when the unsatisfactoriness of the principle began to +be more generally felt; no change, even by the new views and new +knowledge so nobly established by John Winckelmann. He indeed restored +to the soul its full efficiency in Art, and raised it from its +unworthy dependence into the realm of spiritual freedom. Powerfully +moved by the beauty of form in the works of antiquity, he taught that +the production of ideal Nature, of Nature elevated above the Actual, +together with the expression of spiritual conceptions, is the highest +aim of Art. + +But if we examine in what sense this surpassing of the Actual by Art +has been understood by the most, it turns out that, with this view +also, the notion of Nature as mere product, of things as a lifeless +result, still continued; and the idea of a living creative Nature +was in no wise awakened by it. Thus these ideal forms also could be +animated by no positive insight into their nature; and if the forms +of the Actual were dead for the dead beholder, these were not less so. +Were no independent production of the Actual possible, neither would +there be of the Ideal. The object of the imitation was changed; +the imitation remained. In the place of Nature were substituted the +sublime works of Antiquity, whose outward forms the pupils busied +themselves in imitating, but without the spirit that fills them. These +forms, however, are as unapproachable, nay, more so, than the works of +Nature, and leave us yet colder if we bring not to them the spiritual +eye to penetrate through the veil and feel the stirring energy within. + +On the other hand, artists, since that time, have indeed received a +certain ideal impetus, and notions of a beauty superior to matter; +but these notions were like fair words, to which the deeds do not +correspond. While the previous method in Art produced bodies without +soul, this view taught only the secret of the soul, but not that of +the body. The theory had, as usual, passed with one hasty stride to +the opposite extreme; but the vital mean it had not yet found. + +Who can say that Winckelmann had not penetrated into the highest +beauty? But with him it appeared in its dissevered elements only: on +the one side as beauty in idea, and flowing out from the soul; on the +other, as beauty of forms. + +But what is the efficient link that connects the two? Or by what power +is the soul created together with the body, at once and as if with one +breath? If this lies not within the power of Art, as of Nature, +then it can create nothing whatever. This vital connecting link, +Winckelmann did not determine; he did not teach how, from the idea, +forms can be produced. Thus Art went over to that method which we +would call the retrograde, since it strives from the form to come +at the essence. But not thus is the Unlimited reached; it is not +attainable by mere enhancement of the Limited. Hence, such works as +have had their beginning in form, with all elaborateness on that side, +show, in token of their origin, an incurable want at the very point +where we expect the consummate, the essential, the final. The miracle +by which the Limited should be raised to the Unlimited, the human +become divine, is wanting; the magic circle is drawn, but the spirit +that it should inclose, appears not, being disobedient to the call of +him who thought a creation possible through mere form. + + * * * * * + +Nature meets us everywhere, at first with reserve, and in form more or +less severe. She is like that quiet and serious beauty, that excites +not attention by noisy advertisement, nor attracts the vulgar gaze. + +How can we, as it were, spiritually melt this apparently rigid form, +so that the pure energy of things may flow together with the force of +our spirit and both become one united mold? We must transcend Form, +in order to gain it again as intelligible, living, and truly felt. +Consider the most beautiful forms; what remains behind after you have +abstracted from them the creative principle within? Nothing but mere +unessential qualities, such as extension and the relations of space. +Does the fact that one portion of matter exists near another, and +distinct from it, contribute anything to its inner essence? or does +it not rather contribute nothing? Evidently the latter. It is not mere +contiguous existence, but the manner of it, that makes form; and this +can be determined only by a positive force, which is even opposed to +separateness, and subordinates the manifoldness of the parts to the +unity of one idea--from the force that works in the crystal to the +force which, comparable to a gentle magnetic current, gives to the +particles of matter in the human form that position and arrangement +among themselves, through which the idea, the essential unity and +beauty, can become visible. + +Not only, however, as active principle, but as spirit and effective +science, must the essence appear to us in the form, in order that we +may truly apprehend it. For all unity must be spiritual in nature and +origin; and what is the aim of all investigation of Nature but to find +science therein? For that wherein there is no Understanding cannot +be the object of Understanding; the Unknowing cannot be known. The +science by which Nature works is not, however, like human science, +connected with reflection upon itself; in it, the conception is not +separate from the act, nor the design from the execution. Therefore, +rude matter strives, as it were, blindly, after regular shape, +and unknowingly assumes pure stereometric forms, which belong, +nevertheless, to the realm of ideas, and are something spiritual in +the material. + +The sublimest arithmetic and geometry are innate in the stars, and +unconsciously displayed by them in their motions. More distinctly, but +still beyond their grasp, the living cognition appears in animals; +and thus we see them, though wandering about without reflection, bring +about innumerable results far more excellent than themselves: the bird +that, intoxicated with music, transcends itself in soul-like tones; +the little artistic creature, that, without practise or instruction, +accomplishes light works of architecture; but all directed by an +overpowering spirit, that lightens in them already with single flashes +of knowledge, but as yet appears nowhere as the full sun, as in Man. + +This formative science in Nature and Art is the link that connects +idea and form, body and soul. Before everything stands an eternal +idea, formed in the Infinite Understanding; but by what means does +this idea pass into actuality and embodiment? Only through the +creative science that is as necessarily connected with the Infinite +Understanding, as in the artist the principle that seizes the idea +of unsensuous Beauty is linked with that which sets it forth to the +senses. + +If that artist be called happy and praiseworthy before all to whom +the gods have granted this creative spirit, then that work of art will +appear excellent which shows to us, as in outline, this unadulterated +energy of creation and activity of Nature. + +It was long ago perceived that, in Art, not everything is performed +with consciousness; that, with the conscious activity, an unconscious +action must combine; and that it is of the perfect unity and mutual +interpenetration of the two that the highest in Art is born. + +Works that want this seal of unconscious science are recognized by +the evident absence of life self-supported and independent of the +producer; as, on the contrary, where this acts, Art imparts to its +work, together with the utmost clearness to the understanding, that +unfathomable reality wherein it resembles a work of Nature. + +It has often been attempted to make clear the position of the artist +in regard to Nature, by saying that Art, in order to be such, must +first withdraw itself from Nature, and return to it only in the final +perfection. The true sense of this saying, it seems to us, can be no +other than this--that in all things in Nature, the living idea shows +itself only blindly active; were it so also in the artist, he would be +in nothing distinct from Nature. But, should he attempt consciously to +subordinate himself altogether to the Actual, and render with servile +fidelity the already existing, he would produce _larvae_, but no works +of Art. He must therefore withdraw himself from the product, from the +creature, but only in order to raise himself to the creative energy, +spiritually seizing the same. Thus he ascends into the realm of +pure ideas; he forsakes the creature, to regain it with thousandfold +interest, and in this sense certainly to return to Nature. This spirit +of Nature working at the core of things, and speaking through form +and shape as by symbols only, the artist must certainly follow with +emulation; and only so far as he seizes this with genial imitation +has he himself produced anything genuine. For works produced by +aggregation, even of forms beautiful in themselves, would still be +destitute of all beauty, since that, through which the work on the +whole is truly beautiful, cannot be mere form. It is above form--it +is Essence, the Universal, the look and expression of the indwelling +spirit of Nature. + +Now it can scarcely be doubtful what is to be thought of the so-called +idealizing of Nature in Art, so universally demanded. This demand +seems to arise from a way of thinking, according to which not Truth, +Beauty, Goodness, but the contrary of all these, is the Actual. Were +the Actual indeed opposed to Truth and Beauty, it would be necessary +for the artist, not to elevate or idealize it, but to get rid of and +destroy it, in order to create something true and beautiful. But how +should it be possible for anything to be actual except the True; and +what is Beauty, if not full, complete Being? + +What higher aim, therefore, could Art have, than to represent that +which in Nature actually _is_? Or how should it undertake to excel +so-called actual Nature, since it must always fall short of it? + +For does Art impart to its works actual, sensuous life? This statue +breathes not, is stirred by no pulsation, warmed by no blood. + +But both the pretended excelling and the apparent falling short show +themselves as the consequences of one and the same principle, as soon +as we place the aim of Art in the exhibiting of that which truly is. + +Only on the surface have its works the appearance of life; in Nature, +life seems to reach deeper, and to be wedded entirely with matter. +But does not the continual mutation of matter and the universal lot +of final dissolution teach us the unessential character of this union, +and that it is no intimate fusion? Art, accordingly, in the merely +superficial animation of its works, but represents Nothingness as +non-existing. + +How comes it that, to every tolerably cultivated taste, imitations of +the so-called Actual, even though carried to deception, appear in the +last degree untrue--nay, produce the impression of spectres; whilst a +work in which the idea is predominant strikes us with the full force +of truth, conveying us then only to the genuinely actual world? Whence +comes it, if not from the more or less obscure feeling which tells us +that the idea alone is the living principle in things, but all else +unessential and vain shadow? + +On the same ground may be explained all the opposite cases which +are brought up as instances of the surpassing of Nature by Art. In +arresting the rapid course of human years; in uniting the energy of +developed manhood with the soft charm of early youth; or exhibiting +a mother of grown-up sons and daughters in the full possession of +vigorous beauty--what does Art except to annul what is unessential, +Time? + +If, according to the remark of a discerning critic, every growth in +Nature has but an instant of truly complete beauty, we may also say +that it has, too, only an instant of full existence. In this instant +it is what it is in all eternity; besides this, it has only a coming +into and a passing out of existence. Art, in representing the thing +at that instant, removes it out of Time, and sets it forth in its pure +Being, in the eternity of its life. + +After everything positive and essential had once been abstracted from +Form, it necessarily appeared restrictive, and, as it were, hostile, +to the Essence; and the same theory that had reproduced the false and +powerless Ideal, necessarily tended to the formless in Art. Form would +indeed be a limitation of the Essence if it existed independent of it. +But if it exists with and by means of the Essence, how could this feel +itself limited by that which it has itself created? Violence +would indeed be done it by a form forced upon it, but never by +one proceeding from itself. In this, on the contrary, it must rest +contented, and feel its own existence to be perfect and complete. + +Determinateness of form is in Nature never a negation, but ever +an affirmation. Commonly, indeed, the shape of a body seems a +confinement; but could we behold the creative energy it would reveal +itself as the measure that this energy imposes upon itself, and in +which it shows itself a truly intelligent force; for in everything +is the power of self-rule allowed to be an excellence, and one of the +highest. + +In like manner most persons consider the particular in a negative +manner--i.e., as that which is not the whole or all. Yet no +particular exists by means of its limitation, but through the +indwelling force with which it maintains itself as a particular Whole, +in distinction from the Universe. + +This force of particularity, and thus also of individuality, +showing itself as vital character, the negative conception of it +is necessarily followed by an unsatisfying and false view of the +characteristic in Art. Lifeless and of intolerable hardness would be +the Art that should aim to exhibit the empty shell or limitation of +the Individual. Certainly we desire to see not merely the individual, +but, more than this, its vital Idea. But if the artist has seized the +inward creative spirit and essence of the Idea, and sets this forth, +he makes the individual a world in itself, a class, an eternal +prototype; and he who has grasped the essential character needs not +to fear hardness and severity, for these are the conditions of life. +Nature, that in her completeness appears as the utmost benignity, +we see, in each particular, aiming even primarily and principally at +severity, seclusion and reserve. As the whole creation is the work +of the utmost externization and renunciation [Entäusserung], so +the artist must first deny himself and descend into the Particular, +without shunning isolation, nor the pain, the anguish of Form. + +Nature, from her first works, is throughout characteristic; the energy +of fire, the splendor of light, she shuts up in hard stone, the tender +soul of melody in severe metal; even on the threshold of Life, and +already meditating organic shape, she sinks back overpowered by the +might of Form, into petrifaction. + +The life of the plant consists in still receptivity, but in what +exact and severe outline is this passive life inclosed! In the animal +kingdom the strife between Life and Form seems first properly to +begin; her first works Nature hides in hard shells, and, where these +are laid aside, the animated world attaches itself again through its +constructive impulse to the realm of crystallization. Finally +she comes forward more boldly and freely, and vital, important +characteristics show themselves, being the same through whole classes. +Art, however, cannot begin so far down as Nature. Though Beauty is +spread everywhere, yet there are various grades in the appearance +and unfolding of the Essence, and thus of Beauty. But Art demands a +certain fulness, and desires not to strike a single note or tone, nor +even a detached accord, but at once the full symphony of Beauty. + +Art, therefore, prefers to grasp immediately at the highest and most +developed, the human form. For since it is not given it to embrace +the immeasurable whole, and as in all other creatures only single +fulgurations, in Man alone full entire Being appears without +abatement, Art is not only permitted but required to see the sum of +Nature in Man alone. But precisely on this account--that she here +assembles all in one point--Nature repeats her whole multiformity, and +pursues again in a narrower compass the same course that she had gone +through in her wide circuit. + +Here, therefore, arises the demand upon the artist first to be true +and faithful in detail, in order to come forth complete and beautiful +in the whole. Here he must wrestle with the creative spirit of Nature +(which in the human world also deals out character and stamp in +endless variety), not in weak and effeminate, but stout and courageous +conflict. + +Persevering exercise in the study of that by virtue of which the +characteristic in things is a positive principle, must preserve him +from emptiness, weakness, inward inanity, before he can venture to +aim, by ever higher combination and final melting together of manifold +forms, to reach the extremest beauty in works uniting the highest +simplicity with infinite meaning. + +Only through the perfection of form can Form be made to disappear; and +this is certainly the final aim of Art in the Characteristic. But as +the apparent harmony that is even more easily reached by the empty and +frivolous than by others, is yet inwardly vain; so in Art the quickly +attained harmony of the exterior, without inward fulness. And if it is +the part of theory and instruction to oppose the spiritless copying +of beautiful forms, especially must they oppose the tendency toward +an effeminate characterless Art, which gives itself, indeed, higher +names, but therewith only seeks to hide its incapacity to fulfil the +fundamental conditions. + +That lofty Beauty in which the fulness of form causes Form itself to +disappear, was adopted by the modern theory of Art, after Winckelmann, +not only as the highest, but as the only standard. But as the deep +foundation upon which it rests was overlooked, it resulted that a +negative conception was formed even of that which is the sum of all +affirmation. + +Winckelmann compares Beauty with water drawn from the bosom of the +spring, which, the less taste it has, the wholesomer it is esteemed. +It is true that the highest Beauty is characterless, but so we say +of the Universe that it has no determinate dimension, neither length, +breadth nor depth, since it has all in equal infinity; or that the Art +of creative Nature is formless, because she herself is subjected to no +form. + +In this and in no other sense can we say that Grecian art in its +highest development rises into the characterless; but it did not aim +immediately at this. It was from the bonds of Nature that it struggled +upward to divine freedom. From no lightly scattered seed, but only +from a deeply infolded kernel, could this heroic growth spring up. +Only mighty emotions, only a deep stirring of the fancy through the +impression of all-enlivening, all-commanding energies of Nature, +could stamp upon Art that invincible vigor with which from the rigid, +secluded earnestness of earlier productions up to the period of works +overflowing with sensuous grace, it ever remained faithful to truth, +and produced the highest spiritual Reality which it is given to +mortals to behold. + +In like manner, as their Tragedy commences with the grandest +characteristicness in morals, so the beginning of their Plastic Art +was the earnestness of Nature, and the stern goddess of Athens its +first and only Muse. + +This epoch is marked by that style which Winckelmann describes as the +still harsh and severe, from which the next or lofty style was able to +develop itself by the mere enhancement of the Characteristic into the +Sublime and the Simple. + +For in the statues of the most perfect or divine natures not only +all the complexity of form of which human nature is capable had to +be united, but moreover the union must be such as may be conceived to +exist in the system of the Universe itself--the lower forms, or those +relating to inferior attributes, being comprehended under higher, and +all at last under one supreme form, in which they indeed extinguish +one another as separately existing, but still continue in Essence and +efficiency. + +Thus, though we cannot call this high and self-sufficing Beauty +characteristic, so far as herewith is connected the notion of +limitation or conditionality in the manifestation, yet still the +characteristic continues efficient, though indistinguishable, within; +as in the crystal, although transparent, the texture nevertheless +remains; each characteristic element has its weight, however slight, +and helps to bring about the sublime equipoise of Beauty. + +The outer side or basis of all Beauty is beauty of form. But as +Form cannot exist without Essence, wherever Form is, there also is +Character, whether in visible presence or only perceptible in its +effects. Characteristic Beauty, therefore, is Beauty in the root, +from which alone Beauty can arise as the fruit. Essence may, indeed, +outgrow Form, but even then the Characteristic remains as the still +efficient groundwork of the Beautiful. + +That most excellent critic,[6] to whom the gods have given sway over +Nature as well as Art, compares the Characteristic in its relation to +Beauty, with the skeleton in its relation to the living form. Were we +to interpret this striking simile in our sense, we should say that +the skeleton, in Nature, is not, as in our thought, detached from the +living whole; that the firm and the yielding, the determining and +the determined, mutually presuppose each other, and can exist only +together; thus that the vitally Characteristic is already the whole +form, the result of the action and reaction of bone and flesh, of +Active and Passive. And although Art, like Nature, in its higher +developments, thrusts inward the previously visible skeleton, yet the +latter can never be opposed to Shape and Beauty, since it has always +a determining share in the production of the one as well as of the +other. + +But whether that high and independent Beauty should be the only +standard in Art, as it is the highest, seems to depend on the degree +of fulness and extent that belongs to the particular Art. + +Nature, in her wide circumference, ever exhibits the higher with the +lower; creating in Man the godlike, she elaborates in all her other +productions only its material and foundation, which must exist in +order that in contrast with it the Essence as such may appear. And +even in the higher world of Man the great mass serves again as the +basis upon which the godlike that is preserved pure in the few, +manifests itself in legislation, government, and the establishment of +Religion. So that wherever Art works with more of the complexity of +Nature, it may and must display, together with the highest measure of +Beauty, also its groundwork and raw material, as it were, in distinct +appropriate forms. + +Here first prominently unfolds itself the difference in Nature of the +forms of Art. + +Plastic Art, in the more exact sense of the term, disdains to give +Space outwardly to the object, but bears it within itself. This, +however, narrows its field; it is compelled, indeed, to display the +beauty of the Universe almost in a single point. It must therefore aim +immediately at the highest, and can attain complexity only separately +and in the strictest exclusion of all conflicting elements. By +isolating the purely animal in human nature it succeeds in forming +inferior creations too, harmonious and even beautiful, as we are +taught by the beauty of numerous Fauns preserved from antiquity; yea, +it can, parodying itself like the merry spirit of Nature, reverse +its own Ideal, and, for instance, in the extravagance of the Silenic +figures, by light and sportive treatment appear freed again from the +pressure of matter. + +But in all cases it is compelled strictly to isolate the work, in +order to make it self-consistent and a world in itself; since for +this form of Art there is no higher unity, in which the dissonance of +particulars should be melted into harmony. + +Painting, on the contrary, in the very extent of its sphere, can +better measure itself with the Universe, and create with epic +profusion. In an Iliad there is room even for a Thersites; and what +does not find a place in the great epic of Nature and History! + +Here the Particular scarcely counts anything by itself; the Universe +takes its place, and that, which by itself would not be beautiful, +becomes so in the harmony of the whole. If in an extensive painting, +uniting forms by the allotted space, by light, by shade, by +reflection, the highest measure of Beauty were everywhere employed, +the result would be the most unnatural monotony; for, as Winckelmann +says, the highest idea of Beauty is everywhere one and the same, and +scarcely admits of variation. The detail would be preferred to +the whole, where, as in every case in which the whole is formed by +multiplicity, the detail must be subordinate to it. + +[Illustration: THE JUNGFRAU _From the Painting by Moritz von Schwind_] + +In such a work, therefore, a gradation of Beauty must be observed, by +which alone the full Beauty concentrated in the focus becomes visible; +and from an exaggeration of particulars proceeds an equipoise of the +whole. Here, then, the limited and characteristic finds its place; and +theory at least should direct the painter, not so much to the narrow +space in which the entire Beauty is concentrically collected, as to +the characteristic complexity of Nature, through which alone he can +impart to an extensive work the full measure of living significance. + +Thus thought, among the founders of modern art, the noble Leonardo; +thus Raphael, the master of high Beauty, who shunned not to exhibit +it in smaller measure, rather than to appear monotonous, lifeless, and +unreal--though he understood not only how to produce it, but also how +to break up uniformity by variety of expression. + +For, although Character can show itself also in rest and equilibrium +of form, it is only in action that it becomes truly alive. + +By character we understand a unity of several forces, operating +constantly to produce among them a certain equipoise and determinate +proportion, to which, if undisturbed, a like equipoise in the symmetry +of the forms corresponds. But if this vital Unity is to display itself +in act and operation, this can only be when the forces, excited by +some cause to rebellion, forsake their equilibrium. Every one sees +that this is the case in the Passions. + +Here we are met by the well-known maxim of the theorists, which +demands that Passion should be moderated as far as possible, in its +actual outburst, that beauty of Form may not be injured. But we think +this maxim should rather be reversed, and read thus--that Passion +should be moderated by Beauty itself. For it is much to be feared that +this desired moderation too may be taken in a negative sense--whereas, +what is really requisite is to oppose to Passion a positive force. For +as Virtue consists, not in the absence of passions, but in the mastery +of the spirit over them, so Beauty is preserved, not by their removal +or abatement, but by the mastery of Beauty over them. + +The forces of Passion must actually show themselves--it must be seen +that they are prepared to rise in mutiny, but are kept down by the +power of Character, and break against the forms of firmly-founded +Beauty, as the waves of a stream that just fills, but cannot overflow +its banks. Otherwise, this striving after moderation would resemble +only the method of those shallow moralists, who, the more readily +to dispose of Man, prefer to mutilate his nature; and who have so +entirely removed every positive element from actions that the +people gloat over the spectacle of great crimes, in order to refresh +themselves at last with the view of something positive. + +In Nature and Art the Essence strives first after actualization, +or exhibition of itself in the Particular. Thus in each the utmost +severity is manifested at the commencement; for without bound, the +boundless could not appear; without severity, gentleness could not +exist; and if unity is to be perceptible, it can only be through +particularity, detachment, and opposition. In the beginning, +therefore, the creative spirit shows itself entirely lost in the Form, +inaccessibly shut up, and even in its grandeur still harsh. But the +more it succeeds in uniting its entire fulness in one product, the +more it gradually relaxes from its severity; and where it has fully +developed the form, so as to rest contented and self-collected in it, +it seems to become cheerful and begins to move in gentle lines. This +is the period of its fairest maturity and blossom, in which the pure +vessel has arrived at perfection; the spirit of Nature becomes free +from its bonds, and feels its relationship to the soul. By a gentle +morning blush stealing over the whole form, the coming soul announces +itself; it is not yet present, but everything prepares for its +reception by the delicate play of gentle movements; the rigid outlines +melt and temper themselves into flexibility; a lovely essence, neither +sensuous nor spiritual, but which cannot be grasped, diffuses itself +over the form, and intwines itself with every outline, every vibration +of the frame. + +This essence, not to be seized, as we have already remarked, but yet +perceptible to all, is what the language of the Greeks designated by +the name _Charis_, ours as Grace. + +Wherever, in a fully developed form, Grace appears, the work is +complete on the side of Nature; nothing more is wanting; all demands +are satisfied. Here, already, soul and body are in complete harmony; +Body is Form, Grace is Soul, although not Soul in itself, but the Soul +of Form, or the Soul of Nature. + +Art may linger, and remain stationary at this point; for already, +on one side at least, its whole task is finished. The pure image of +Beauty arrested at this point is the Goddess of Love. + +But the beauty of the Soul in itself, joined to sensuous Grace, is the +highest apotheosis of Nature. + +The spirit of Nature is only in appearance opposed to the Soul; +essentially, it is the instrument of its revelation; it brings about +indeed the antagonism that exists in all things, but only that the +one essence may come forth, as the utmost benignity, and the +reconciliation of all the forces. + +All other creatures are driven by the mere force of Nature, and +through it maintain their individuality; in Man alone, as the central +point, arises the soul, without which the world would be like the +natural universe without the sun. The Soul in Man, therefore, is not +the principle of individuality, but that whereby he raises himself +above all egoism, whereby he becomes capable of self-sacrifice, of +disinterested love, and (which is the highest) of the contemplation +and knowledge of the Essence of things, and thus of Art. + +In him it is no longer concerned about Matter nor has it immediate +concern with it, but with the spirit only as the life of things. +Even while appearing in the body, it is yet free from the body, the +consciousness of which hovers in the soul in the most beauteous shapes +only as a light, undisturbing dream. It is no quality, no faculty, nor +anything special of the sort; it knows not, but is Science; it is +not good, but Goodness; it is not beautiful, as body even may be, but +Beauty itself. + +In the first instance, it is true, in a work of art, the soul of the +artist is seen as invention in the detail, and in the total result as +the unity that hovers over the work in serene stillness. But the Soul +must be visible in objective representation, as the primeval energy +of thought, in portraitures of human beings, altogether filled by an +idea, by a noble contemplation; or as indwelling, essential Goodness. + +Each of these finds its distinct expression even in the completest +repose, but a more living one where the Soul can reveal itself in +activity and antagonism; and since it is by the passions mainly that +the peace of life is interrupted, it is the generally received opinion +that the beauty of the Soul shows itself especially in its quiet +supremacy amid the storm of the passions. + +But here an important distinction is to be made. For the Soul must not +be called upon to moderate those passions which are only an outbreak +of the lower spirits of Nature, nor can it be displayed in antithesis +with these; for where calm considerateness is still in contention +with them, the Soul has not yet appeared; they must be moderated by +unassisted Nature in Man, by the might of the Spirit. But there are +cases of a higher sort, in which not a single force alone, but the +intelligent Spirit itself breaks down all barriers--cases, indeed, +where even the Soul is subjected by the bond that connects it with +sensuous existence, to pain, which should be foreign to its divine +nature; where Man feels himself hard fought and attacked in the root +of his existence, not by mere powers of Nature, but by moral forces; +where innocent error hurries him into crime, and thus into misery; +where deep-felt injustice excites to rebellion the holiest feelings of +humanity. + +This is the case in all situations, truly, and, in a high sense, +tragic, such as the Tragedy of the ancients brings before our eyes. +Where blindly passionate forces are aroused, the collected Spirit is +present as the guardian of Beauty; but if the Spirit itself be carried +away, as by an irresistible might, what power shall watch over +and protect sacred beauty? Or, if even the soul participate in the +struggle, how shall it save itself from pain and from desecration? + +Arbitrarily to restrain the power of pain, of feeling in revolt, would +be to sin against the very meaning and aim of Art, and would betray a +want of feeling and soul in the artist himself. + +Already therein, that Beauty, based on grand and firmly established +forms, has become Character, Art has provided the means of displaying +without injury to symmetry the whole intensity of Feeling. For where +Beauty rests on mighty forms, as upon immovable pillars, even a slight +change in its relations, scarcely touching the form, causes us to +infer the great force that was necessary in order to provide it. Still +more does Grace sanctify pain. It is the essential nature of Grace +that it does not know itself; but not being wilfully acquired, it also +cannot be wilfully lost. When intolerable anguish, when even madness, +sent by avenging gods, takes away consciousness and reason, Grace +stands as a protecting demon by the suffering person, and prevents it +from manifesting anything unseemly, anything discordant to Humanity, +but sees to it that, if the person falls, it falls at least a pure and +unspotted victim. + +Although not yet the Soul itself, but its forebodings only, Grace +accomplishes by natural means what the Soul does by a divine power, in +transforming pain, torpor, even death itself, into Beauty. + +Yet Grace, which thus maintained itself in the extremest adversity, +would be dead, without its transfiguration by the Soul. But what +expression can belong to the Soul in this situation? It delivers +itself from pain, and comes forth conquering, not conquered, by +relinquishing its connection with sensuous existence. + +It is for the natural Spirit to exert its energies for the +preservation of sensuous existence; the Soul enters not into +this contest, but its presence moderates even the storms of +painfully-struggling life. Outward force can take away only outward +goods, but not reach the Soul; it can tear asunder a temporal bond, +not dissolve the eternal one of a truly divine love. Not hard and +unfeeling, nor giving up love itself, on the contrary the Soul +displays in pain this love alone, as the sentiment that outlasts +sensuous existence, and thus raises itself above the ruins of outward +life or fortune in divine glory. + +It is this expression of the Soul that the creator of the Niobe has +presented to us. All the means by which Art tempers even the Terrible, +are here made use of. Mightiness of form, sensuous Grace, nay, even +the nature of the subject-matter itself, soften the expression, +through this, that Pain, transcending all expression, annihilates +itself, and Beauty, which it seemed impossible to preserve from +destruction when alive, is protected from injury by the commencing +torpor. + +But what would it all be without the Soul, and how does this manifest +itself? + +We see on the countenance of the mother, not grief alone for the +already prostrated flower of her children; not alone deadly anxiety +for the preservation of those yet remaining, and of the youngest +daughter, who has fled for safety to her bosom; nor resentment against +the cruel deities; least of all, as is pretended, cool defiance-all +these we see, indeed, but not these alone; for, through grief, +anxiety, and resentment streams, like a divine light, eternal love, as +that which alone remains; and in this is preserved the mother, as +one who was not, but now is a mother, and who remains united with the +beloved ones by an eternal bond. + +Every one acknowledges that greatness, purity, and goodness of Soul +have also their sensuous expressions. But how is this conceivable, +unless the principle that acts in Matter be itself cognate and similar +to Soul? + +For the representation of the Soul there are again gradations in +Art, according as it is joined with the merely Characteristic, or in +visible union with the Charming and Graceful. + +Who perceives not already, in the tragedies of Æschylus, the presence +of that lofty morality which is predominant in the works of Sophocles? +But in the former it is enveloped in a bitter rind, and passes +less into the whole work, since the bond of sensuous Grace is still +wanting. But out of this severity, and the still rude charms of +earlier Art, could proceed the grace of Sophocles, and with it the +complete fusion of the two elements, which leaves us doubtful whether +it is more moral or sensuous Grace that enchants us in the works of +this poet. + +The same is true of the plastic productions of the early and severe +style, in comparison with the gentleness of the later. + +If Grace, besides being the transfiguration of the spirit of Nature, +is also the medium of connection between moral Goodness and sensuous +Appearance, it is evident how Art must tend from all points toward +it as its centre. This Beauty, which results from the perfect +interpenetration of moral Goodness and sensuous Grace, seizes and +enchants us when we meet it, with the force of a miracle. For, whilst +the spirit of Nature shows itself everywhere else independent of the +Soul, and, indeed, in a measure opposed to it, here, it seems, as if +by voluntary accord, and the inward fire of divine love, to melt into +union with it; the remembrance of the fundamental unity of the essence +of Nature and the essence of the Soul comes over the beholder with +sudden clearness--the conviction that all antagonism is only apparent, +that Love is the bond of all things, and pure Goodness the foundation +and substance of the whole Creation. + +Here Art, as it were, transcends itself, and again becomes means only. +On this summit sensuous Grace becomes in turn only the husk and body +of a higher life; what was before a whole is treated as a part, and +the highest relation of Art and Nature is reached in this--that it +makes Nature the medium of manifesting the soul which it contains. + +But though in this blossoming of Art, as in the blossoming of the +vegetable kingdom, all the previous stages are repeated, yet, on the +other hand, we may see in what various directions Art can proceed from +this centre. Especially does the difference in nature of the two +forms of Plastic Art here show itself most strongly. For Sculpture, +representing its ideas by corporeal things, seems to reach its highest +point in the complete equilibrium of Soul and Matter--if it give a +preponderance to the latter it sinks below its own idea--but it seems +altogether impossible for it to elevate the Soul at the expense of +Matter, since it must thereby transcend itself. The perfect sculptor +indeed, as Winckelmann remarks apropos of the Belvedere Apollo, will +use no more material than is needful to accomplish his spiritual +purpose; but also, on the other hand, he will put into the Soul no +more energy than is at the same time expressed in the material; for +precisely upon this, fully to embody the spiritual, depends his +art. Sculpture, therefore, can reach its true summit only in the +representation of those natures in whose constitution it is implied +that they actually embody all that is contained in their Idea or Soul; +thus only in divine natures. So that Sculpture, even if no Mythology +had preceded it, would of itself have come upon gods, and have +invented such if it found none. + +Moreover as the Spirit, on this lower platform, has again the same +relation to Matter that we have ascribed to the Soul (being the +principle of activity and motion, as Matter is that of rest and +inaction), the law that regulates Expression and Passion must be a +fundamental principle of its nature. + +But this law must be applicable not only to the lower passions, but +also equally to those higher and godlike passions, if it is permitted +so to call them, by which the Soul is affected in rapture, in +devotion, in adoration. Hence, since from these passions the gods +alone are exempt, Sculpture is inclined from this side also to the +imaging of divine natures. + +The nature of Painting, however, seems to differ entirely from that of +Sculpture. For the former represents objects, not like the latter, by +corporeal things, but by light and color, through a medium therefore +itself incorporeal and in a measure spiritual. Painting, moreover, +gives out its productions nowise as the things themselves, but +expressly as pictures. From its very nature therefore it does not lay +as much stress on the material as Sculpture, and seems indeed for +this reason, while exalting the material above the spirit, to degrade +itself more than Sculpture in a like case; on the other hand to be so +much more justified in giving a clear preponderance to the Soul. + +Where it aims at the highest it will indeed ennoble the passions by +Character, or moderate them by Grace, or manifest in them the power of +the Soul: but on the other hand it is precisely those higher passions, +depending on the relationship of the Soul with a Supreme Being, that +are entirely suited to the nature of Painting. Indeed, while Sculpture +maintains an exact balance between the force whereby a thing exists +outwardly and acts in Nature and that by virtue of which it lives +inwardly and as Soul, and excludes mere suffering even from Matter, +Painting may soften in favor of the Soul the characteristicness of the +force and activity in Matter, and transform it into resignation +and endurance, making it apparent that Man becomes more generally +susceptible to the inspirations of the Soul, and to higher influences +in general. + +This diametrical difference explains of itself not only the necessary +predominance of Sculpture in the ancient, and of Painting in the +modern world (since in the former the tone of mind was thoroughly +plastic, whereas the latter makes even the Soul the passive instrument +of higher revelations); but this also is evident--that it is +not enough to strive after the Plastic in form and manner of +representation, but that it is requisite, before all, to think and to +feel plastically, that is, antiquely. + +And as the deviation of Sculpture into the picturesque is destructive +to Art, so the narrowing down of Painting to the conditions and forms +belonging to Sculpture is an arbitrarily imposed limitation. For while +Sculpture, like gravitation, acts toward one point, it is permitted to +Painting, as to light, to fill all space with its creative energy. + +This unlimited universality of Painting is demonstrated by History +itself, and by the examples of the greatest masters, who, without +injury to the essential character of their art, have developed to +perfection each particular stage by itself, so that we can find also +in the history of Art the same sequence that may be pointed out in its +nature--not indeed in exact order of time, but yet substantially. For +thus is represented in Michelangelo the oldest and mightiest epoch of +liberated Art, that in which it displays its yet uncontrolled strength +in gigantic progeny; as in the fables of the symbolic Fore-world, the +Earth, after the embrace of Uranus, brought forth at first Titans and +heaven-storming giants before the mild reign of the serene gods began. + +Thus the painting of the Last Judgment, with which, as the sum of his +art, that giant spirit filled the Sistine Chapel, seems to remind +us more of the first ages of the Earth and its products, than of +its last. Attracted toward the most hidden abysses of organic, +particularly of the human form, he shuns not the Terrible; nay, +he seeks it purposely, and startles it from its repose in the dark +workshops of Nature. Want of delicacy, grace, pleasingness, he +balances by the extremest energy; and if he excites horror by his +representations, it is the terror that, according to fable, the +ancient god Pan spreads around him when he suddenly appears in the +assemblies of men. + +It is the method of Nature to produce the extraordinary by isolation +and the exclusion of opposed qualities. Thus, it was necessary that, +in Michelangelo, earnestness and the deep significant energy of Nature +should prevail, rather than a sense of the grace and sensibility that +belong to the Soul, in order to display the extreme of pure plastic +force in the painting of modern times. + +After the earlier violence and the vehement impulse of birth is +assuaged, the spirit of Nature is transfigured into Soul, and Grace is +born. This point Art reached, after Leonardo da Vinci, in Correggio, +in whose works the sensuous Soul is the active principle of Beauty. + + * * * * * + +As the modern fable of Psyche closes the circle of the old mythology; +so Painting, by giving a preponderance to the Soul, attained a new, +though not a higher step of Art. + +This Guido Reni strove after, and became the proper painter of the +Soul. Such seems to us to be the necessary interpretation of his whole +endeavor, often uncertain, and, in many of his works, losing itself in +the vague. + +This is shown, as, perhaps, in few of his other pictures, in the +masterpiece that is offered to the admiration of all in the great +collection of our king. + +In the figure of the heavenward-ascending Virgin, all harshness and +sternness are effaced, even to the last trace; and, indeed, does not +Painting itself seem in it to soar upward, transfigured on its own +pinions, as the liberated Psyche delivered from the severity of Form? + +Here nothing outward remains, with separate natural force; everything +expresses receptivity and still endurance, even the perishable flesh, +the character of which the Italian language designates by the term +_morbidezza_, altogether unlike that with which Raphael invests the +descending Queen of Heaven, as she appears to the adoring pope and a +saint. + +Though the remark be well-founded, that the original of Guido's female +heads is the Niobe of antiquity, yet the ground of this similarity is +surely no mere intentional imitation; perhaps a like aim led to like +means. + +As the Florentine Niobe is an extreme in Sculpture, and the +representation in it of the Soul, so this well-known picture is +an extreme in Painting, which here ventures to lay aside even the +requisite of shade and the obscure, and to work almost with pure +Light. + +Even though it might be permitted to Painting, from its peculiar +nature, to give a distinct preponderance to the Soul, yet theory and +instruction will do best constantly to aim at that original Centre, +whence alone Art may be produced ever anew; whereas, at the stage last +mentioned, it must necessarily stand still, or degenerate into cramped +mannerism. For even that higher passion is opposed to the idea of +having reached the acme of energy, whose image and reflex Art is +called upon to display. + +A right intelligence will ever enjoy seeing a creature worthily, and, +as far as possible, also individually, represented; yea, Deity itself +would look down with pleasure on a being that, gifted with a pure +soul, should stoutly assert the dignity of its nature outwardly also, +and by its sensually efficient existence. + +We have seen how the work of Art, springing up out of the depths of +Nature, begins with determinateness and limitation, unfolds its inward +plenitude and infinity, is finally transfigured in Grace, and at +last attains to Soul. But we can conceive only in detail what, in the +creative act of mature Art, is but one operation. No theory and no +rules can give this spiritual, creative power. It is the pure gift of +Nature, which here, for the second time, makes a close; for, having +fully actualized herself, she invests the creature with her creative +energy. But as, in the grand progress of Art, these different stages +appeared successively, until, at the highest, all joined in one; so +also, in particulars, sound culture can spring up only where it has +unfolded itself regularly from the germ and root to the blossom. + +The requirement that Art, like everything living, should commence from +the first rudiments, and, to renew its youth, constantly return +to them, may seem a hard doctrine to an age that has so often +been assured that it has only to take from works of Art already in +existence the most consummate Beauty, and thus, as at a step, to reach +the final goal. Have we not already the Excellent, the Perfect? How +then should we return to the rudimentary and unformed? + +Had the great founders of modern Art thought thus, we should never +have seen their miracles. Before them also stood the creations of the +ancients, round statues and works in relief, which they might have +transferred immediately to their canvas. But such an appropriation of +a Beauty not self-won, and therefore unintelligible, would not satisfy +an artistic instinct that aimed throughout at the fundamental, and +from which the Beautiful was again to create itself with free original +energy. They were not afraid, therefore, to appear simple, artless, +dry, beside those exalted ancients; nor to cherish Art for a long time +in the undistinguished bud, until the period of Grace had arrived. + +Whence comes it that we still look upon these works of the older +masters, from Giotto to the teacher of Raphael, with a sort of +reverence, indeed with a certain predilection, if not that the +faithfulness of their endeavor, and the grand earnestness of their +serene voluntary limitation, compel our respect and admiration. + +The same relation that they held to the ancients, the present +generation holds to them. Their time and ours are joined by no living +transmission, no link of continuous, organic growth; we must reproduce +Art in the way they did, but with energy of our own, in order to be +like them. + +Even that Indian-summer of Art, at the end of the sixteenth and the +beginning of the seventeenth centuries, could call forth only a few +new blossoms on the old stem, but no productive germs, still less +plant a new tree of Art. But to set aside the works of perfected +Art, and to seek out its scanty and simple beginnings, as some have +desired, would be a new and perhaps greater mistake; it would be no +real return to the fundamental; simplicity would be affectation, and +grow into hypocritical show. + +But what prospect does the present time offer for an Art springing +from a vigorous germ, and growing up from the root? For it is in a +great measure dependent on the character of its time; and who +would promise the approbation of the present time to such earnest +beginnings, when Art, on the one hand, scarcely obtains equal +consideration with other instruments of prodigal luxury, and, on the +other, artists and amateurs, with entire want of ability to grasp +Nature, praise and demand the Ideal? + +Art springs only from that powerful striving of the inmost powers of +the heart and the spirit, which we call Inspiration. Everything that +from difficult or small beginnings has grown up to great power and +height, owes its growth to Inspiration. Thus spring empires and +states, thus arts and sciences. But it is not the power of the +individual that accomplishes this, but the Spirit alone, that diffuses +itself over all. For Art especially is dependent on the tone of the +public mind, as the more delicate plants on atmosphere and weather; it +needs a general enthusiasm for Sublimity and Beauty, like that which, +in the time of the Medici, as a warm breath of spring, called forth at +once and together all those great spirits. + + * * * * * + +It is only when the public life is actuated by the same forces through +whose energy Art is elevated, that the latter can derive any advantage +from it; for Art cannot, without giving up the nobility of its nature, +aim at anything outward. + +Art and Science can move only on their own axes; the artist, like +every spiritual laborer, can follow only the law that God and Nature +have written in his heart. None can help him--he must help himself; +nor can he be outwardly rewarded, since anything that he should +produce for the sake of aught out of itself, would thereby become a +nullity; hence, too, no one can direct him, nor prescribe the path +he is to tread. Is he to be pitied if he have to contend against his +time, he is deserving of contempt if he truckle to it. But how +should it be even possible for him to do this? Without great general +enthusiasm there are only sects--no public opinion; not an established +taste, not the great ideas of a whole people, but the voices of a few +arbitrarily-appointed judges, determine as to merit; and Art, which +in its elevation is self-sufficing, courts favor, and serves where it +should rule. + +To different ages are given different inspirations. Can we expect none +for this age, since the new world now forming itself, as it exists in +part already outwardly, in part inwardly and in the hearts of men, can +no longer be measured by any standard of previous opinion, and since +everything, on the contrary, loudly demands higher standards and an +entire renovation? + +Should not the sense to which Nature and History have more livingly +unfolded themselves, restore to Art also its great arguments? The +attempt to draw sparks from the ashes of the Past, and fan them again +into universal flame, is a vain endeavor. Only a revolution in the +ideas themselves is able to raise Art from its exhaustion; only new +Knowledge, new Faith, can inspire it for the work by which it can +display, in a renewed life, a splendor like the past. + +An Art in all respects the same as that of foregoing centuries, will +never return; for Nature never repeats herself. Such a Raphael will +never be again, but another, who shall have reached in an equally +original manner the summit of Art. Only let the fundamental conditions +be fulfilled, and renewed Art will show, like that which preceded +it, in its first works, its aim and intent. In the production of the +distinctly characteristic, if it proceed from a fresh original energy, +Grace is already present, even though hidden, and in both the advent +of the Soul already determined. Works produced in this manner, even in +their rudimentary imperfection, are necessary and eternal. * * * + + + + +LATER GERMAN ROMANTICISM + +By George H. Danton, PH.D + +Professor of German, Butler College + + +The group of later Romanticists is distinguished from the earlier +pioneers by less emphasis on speculative philosophy, by greater +spontaneity, and by more creative ability. The later school was less +interested in questions primarily esthetic and was more democratic. +Both groups were enemies of the aristocratic Enlightenment of the +eighteenth century; but where the earlier group worked with the +Kantian understanding and with a supersensuous philosophy, the younger +men lived in the world and were of it; they used the people to carry +on their propaganda. Thus, though later Romanticism contains nearly +all the ideas of earlier Romanticism, it displays in addition also, +political, national, and social tendencies which were in the main +foreign to the earlier writers. + +There was in the later group a deeper sense of religion and a firmer +belief in the spiritual foundations of experience than is shown by +their predecessors, though all Romanticism tried to penetrate the +mysteries of life and all Romanticists were seers as well as +prophets. In the later school, too, there appears a development of the +nature-sense far beyond anything shown in the first group. Indeed, +the Schlegels may be said to have been without a sense for nature; in +Tieck there is a great discrepancy between the man, his beliefs, +and his practise, and Novalis' nature-feeling is not attached to +any specific place. But Brentano loves the Rhine, and Eichendorff's +landscape is genuinely Silesian. Caroline and Dorothea know nothing of +the mood which makes Bettina throw herself prone in the grass to watch +an insect crawl over her hand. + +A keener appreciation of natural beauty led to a study of natural +science; thence it was but a step to the "night-sides" of nature; +and spiritism, mesmerism, occultism, and abnormal psychology fill the +minds of such men as the Romantic philosopher Schubert, and of the +physicians Carus and Passavant. Justinus Kerner wrote of the Seeress +of Prevorst, and Clemens Brentano watched for years at the bedside +of a stigmatized nun. On the other hand, from nature comes a love for +home and country, and this love serves as a bridge to the patriotism +which was the vital force in the Wars of Liberation and which, by +well-marked gradations, destroyed the cosmopolitanism engendered by +the French Revolution. Art went hand in hand with nature; the +wild, weird landscapes of Caspar David Friedrich, fascinating and +specifically German, express the Romantic spirit fully as well as the +delicate, spiritual, and thoroughly sane fancies of Philip Otto Runge, +the artist of early Romanticism. + +As the earlier men centred in Jena, so the later Romanticists +flourished in Heidelberg, that city which Eichendorff called "itself +a magnificent Romanticism." The earlier group was largely North German +and brought with it clear perception and a certain power of analysis, +an ability to dissect and to reason. With the Heidelberg group the +South begins to play a larger part, though there were a number of +North Germans in it. The richer fancy, the longer literary tradition, +now add color to their productions. It is significant, too, that +though "castle Romanticism" does not die out, a new note is struck +with the celebration of the Rhine in song, story, and legend. The +river begins with Romantic tradition and in a Romantic _milieu_, but +rises to political significance as "Germany's stream and not Germany's +boundary." The southward tendency of the movement reached its climax +when its centre shifted to Munich, with a culture-loving king, an +Academy of Sciences and a new University. Munich was fortunately not +destined to become like Vienna, that other South German city, "a Capua +of the spirit." + +Though certain members of the later Romantic group were closely +associated with each other in a way that was unknown to the older set, +Arnim and Savigny having each married a sister of Brentano, there was +less real solidarity among them than in their forerunners. By no means +all the men treated within the confines of the present article had the +close personal association which, when combined with intellectual or +literary activity, goes by the rather loose name of a "school." The +first Romanticists were held together by a common effort to formulate +or to attain a speculative philosophy. In the second group, there was +a decentralizing, catholicizing tendency, and, above all, a greater +individual creative ability. It was not merely the chance difference +of external fortunes that kept them apart, though they never held +together after the death of Brentano's wife in 1806, but that each +projected his individuality into his literary work rather than into a +common polemic ideal. The path-finding and discovery had already been +done; in the quieter backwater it was possible to develop well-rounded +works of real esthetic value. + +Very significant of the differences between the schools is their +journalistic activity. The ideal of the first Romanticists was to work +without collaboration; but the very prospectus of Arnim's _Journal for +Hermits_ is signed by a company of editors. The early journals were +turned to the study of German literature through a renunciation of +the present; the later Germanic studies arose from a high idealism and +from a sincere desire to awaken the present to new national activity. +When, later in life, Görres remarked of these journals that their +collaborators felt as if they were accompanying the Holy Roman Empire +to its grave, he was thinking of the year in which the most important +of them flourished, 1808. In this, Germany's darkest period, Kleist's +Phoebus, so cordially hated by many, and Arnim's _Journal for Hermits_ +had their brief but influential career. + +Such a journal as the _Athenaeum_, with its over-emphasis on the +esthetic, with its fighting spirit, its excoriating, inexorable wit, +its constructive and destructive criticism, its complete and total +silence on Schiller, would have been an impossibility in the later +period. The feeling for and thinking in Fragments, as practised by +Friedrich Schlegel and Novalis, was foreign to the new school. They +had no illusions that such thinking would become the daily custom +of the people; they kept their eyes open to that which went on about +them, and though they no more dared than the earlier group to work +directly upon the political conditions of the day as did Görres later +(1814) in his _Rheinischer Merkur_, they attempted indirectly to +react on the broad mass by branching out into religion and other +folk-interests as the earlier school never cared to do. Perhaps this +is an excuse for the shallowness of some of the product, especially of +the fiction; at any rate, the attempt at dissemination was not without +its success. + +The external link connecting the two schools as well as the Romantic +groups in general and the object of their star-worship, Goethe, was +Clemens Maria Brentano (1778-1842), in many ways the most typical +Romantic figure of either school. Brentano's grandmother, Sophie La +Roche, had been the friend of Wieland; his mother, Maximiliane, +played a not unimportant rôle in the life of the young Goethe and +is immortalized in the latter part of _Werther_. Maximiliane married +Brentano, an Italian from the Como region, and Clemens was the third +child of this loveless union. Brentano's early life was not happy; he +was destined for a business career but was a failure in it, and then +studied at various universities but with no great application or +success. From 1797-1800 he was at Jena, where he succeeded in making +himself hated by the Schlegels in spite of his defense of them in +his satirical play, _Gustav Wasa_ (1800). This play, in the manner of +Tieck's _Puss in Boots_, attempts to ridicule Kotzebue. The method +is the same as Tieck's: there is the play within the play, the gagged +officer (to take the place of the critic Böttger), the puns, of which, +perhaps, the one on Lucinde _(Lux inde)_ is the best, and which, +as often in Brentano, go beyond and surpass Tieck. Romantic irony +flourishes: the whole world of the theatre, the author, the very +lights, the building, the working day and the musical instruments in +the orchestra are dramatized in turn. The dialogue of the latter far +more intimately suggests their quality than does the speech of +the flutes in Tieck, where their spirit is cerulean blue. _Wasa_, +unfortunately, runs off into dull allegory, and this work is not to be +compared with August von Schlegel's _Gate of Honor_ as a satire on the +same subject. + +Brentano's _Godwi_ (1801), the sub-title of which, "An Unmanageable +Novel by Maria," shows its character, is a far better production. It +has the strong, full-blooded, passionate love of life characteristic +of its author, "the many-souled" Brentano, whose Romantic irony +resulted from his being ashamed of his sentimentality, and whose +hatred of philistinism was caused by his fear of his own latent +tendency toward that point of view. The plot of _Godwi_ runs wild, but +the satire and the interspersed lyrics make it interesting reading. +Romantic irony can go no farther than in this book, in which the +author's own death-bed scene is portrayed and in which the preceding +parts of the work are referred to by page and line--"This is the pond +into which I fall on page so and so." + +If Brentano's _Rosary_ cycle (1809) is somewhat unpleasantly +superhuman, and if, at times, he mixes sex and religion like a mystic +of the Middle Ages or a Spaniard of the Counter Reformation, he rises +to wonderful lyric heights when he touches his own experiences, or +when he expresses the note of the people. His use of the supernatural, +of the subconscious mood, gives rise to such poems as _The Lore-Lay_, +the legend of which was actually invented by Brentano. Like all +Romanticists, Brentano was a poet of incomplete works, of moods +which abandoned him before the artistic perfection of his effort was +reached; but his suggestive touches, and, above all, his constant use +of the refrain in all phases and _genres_, especially to emphasize +and summarize his musical consciousness, are a striking proof of the +French adage, "Quand le coeur chante, c'est toujours un refrain." +Brentano surrenders himself passionately to his mood. His surrender +and his distorting irony, like Heine's, arise from his desire to +assimilate all of the outside world; it explains, in part, the +Romantic desire to mediate, to translate, to bridge the cleft between +oneself and the world. In part, too, it explains the desire for +musical imitation so apparent in both Tieck and Brentano. It is an +attempt to express in terms of one sense the ideas or apperceptions +of another. But where Tieck falls into meaningless jingle, Brentano +succeeds, not merely in suggesting but in producing the effect, as in +his _Merry Musicians_ (1803), or in bringing about its latent mood, +as in his _Spinner's Song_ or in his version of the old +folk-epithalamium, "Come out, come out, thou lovely, lovely bride." + +Brentano's prose tales vary in quality from the over-allegorized +latter part of _The Fairy Tale of the Rhine and the Miller Radlauf_ +(1816) to the simple and homely _Kasper and Annie_ (1817), with its +elemental clash of soldiers and citizens. Through many of the tales +there runs a note of satire and of symbolism, but the fancy is +exuberant and the interest well maintained. Brentano's discovery +of the Rhine as an object of poetry and veneration is completely +summarized in _Radlauf_, where the Rhine lyrics are often of wonderful +beauty and definiteness and the river becomes a benevolent _deus ex +machina_, who--significantly--in dreams, guides and aids the simple, +honest miller in his search for a bride. + +Later in life, Brentano returned to the Roman Church into which he +had been baptized as a child, and gradually withdrew from literary +activity. Long before his death in 1842, he had renounced his earlier +life as wicked and abhorrent, and had given himself over entirely to +the Church. But his career with its constant wanderings, its lack +of permanency of occupation, of family ties, and of a real home, +his inability to grow old, his inner unreality, his excessive +productivity-in short, all that is incomplete, over-stimulated, +destructive of self, make him the most typical figure of the later +Romantic group. + +Ludwig Achim von Arnim (1781-1831) is by no means so bizarre a figure. +Born in Berlin of a noble family, he inherited a peculiar +patriotism and his love of culture, and developed these without +the eccentricities which characterized his brother-in-law. The main +influences of his early years were Goethe and Jena, but, as a direct +inspiration, Tieck must also be mentioned. Arnim's early works lie +largely in the field of natural science, especially in physics. He had +little of Brentano's lyric gift; indeed, his poems, where not wooden, +are often merely reminiscent. They show, too, in an unusual degree, +the ability to adapt himself to another's mood and assimilate it--that +which the Germans call "Nachempfinden," a quality which stood him in +excellent stead in his work on _The Boy's Magic Horn_. + +The drama _Halle and Jerusalem_ (1810) is an amalgamation of the story +of Cardenio and Celinde used by Gryphius and Immermann, with the story +of the Wandering Jew. The first four acts take place in Halle where +Cardenio is a teacher and where he is living in incestuous relation +with Olympia. He is a Faust-nature and his father is Ahasuerus. +The fifth act is taken up with a pilgrimage to Jerusalem where the +romantic fates of the characters are decided. The play abounds in +contemporary satire and, as in all of Arnim's work, there is distinct +emphasis on action, the goal of human endeavor. + +Arnim's prose is better than his verse. Soon, in _The Guardians of +the Crown_ (1817; volume 2 unfinished and published in his literary +remains, 1854), he strikes an individual note. This novel is one +of the best products of German Romanticism. The Guardians are a +mysterious secret organization who guard the imperial crown in a fairy +castle and are favorable to the ancient house of Hohenstaufen but +inimical to the ruling Habsburgs. The basis is the newly awakening +ideal of German unity but Arnim fails to express this clearly, and +the concluding motif, that Germany's crown is to be spiritually won, +resolves the whole into a frosty allegory. The progress of the story +is, however, extremely interesting; the whole spacious and varied +scene of medieval life is there, and as Tieck and Wackenroder +discovered Nuremberg, and Brentano the Rhine, so Arnim may be said to +have shown in its full activity the Ghibelline city of Waiblingen. It +is, to be sure, a Romantic Waiblingen, and not the real city, as Arnim +himself was afterward forced to admit with some disappointment when he +actually saw it. But as Arnim portrays it, it rises to typical value +without losing any of its poetic individuality. It is the city of the +Hohenstaufens, the last stand of medievalism against the encroachment +of a new civilization. The echoes from Gotz von Berlichingen are at +once apparent to the reader. But Arnim's city of the sixteenth century +does not look backward only; the conflicts in it point forward also. +Its abbess is not the traditional pious, fat old lady, but a tall, +thin, practical and active woman. Its Faust is a figure of aggressive +naturalism, a charlatan and quack who practises blood-transfusion on +the hero and who lies drunk in a pig-sty--a scene which shows Arnim's +power of drastic contrast at its best. The hero, Berthold, does +not sit back and wait for the crown to come to him, but with money +mysteriously given him builds a cloth-mill on the site of his +ancestral palace and becomes the mayor of the city. How different a +picture from the hazy cities of Novalis' _Heinrich von Ofterdingen_! +It is a part of the new spirit in Romanticism to point the way for the +people of Germany to go forward--to leave mysticism and dreams, and to +grapple with the life around them. + +A similar impulse toward popularization actuated Arnim and Brentano +in their joint work, _The Boy's Magic Horn_ (1806-8). This is the +achievement upon which their greatest fame will always rest. It is +one of the best collections of folk-songs and popular ballads in any +language, and has been of the greatest influence upon Germany. There +was no desire on the part of the editors to write a learned treatise; +they simply wished to gather together and record the folk-songs of the +Fatherland before they were lost forever. In Arnim's own words: "The +richness of this our national song cannot fail to attract universal +attention; it will surprise many; it will supplement many an effort of +our own times, or will render such effort needless. We expect a great +deal from the joyous happy life in these songs--a manifold, full tone +in poetry, an echo of very definite ideas, or an impulse to arouse +many a half-forgotten youthful memory. These poems will not only be +read, they will be remembered and sung. They embrace in their content, +perhaps the greatest portion of German poetry. They will thus set free +many an indefinite longing--a something which is not satisfied by much +re-reading." + +Goethe greeted the new undertaking with enthusiasm and urged the +editors to "keep their poetic archives clean, strict, and in good +order." He, too, urged that "this book should be in every house where +joyful humans dwell, by the window, under the mirror, or where song +book and cook book lie. There it should remain, ready to be opened, +and there something should be found for every varying mood." While +this fate has not been granted the work, it has grown deservedly +popular. Philological criticism has caviled at the free hand which +Arnim, especially, used in remolding the songs, but the editors are +freed of any possible charge of intellectual dishonesty toward reader +and source in that their object was to present artistic unities and +not material for further study and dissection. + +A folk-song is a song which has become a part of the lyric +consciousness of the people; often the singers do not know that +what they are singing has a literary origin--they have thoroughly +assimilated it. In the best sense of the term, the songs of _The Boy's +Magic Horn_ are folk-songs. They are both narrative and dramatic as +well as pure lyric in form, and are simple, powerful, and direct in +expression. They treat all phases of German life of the past, from a +crude version of the _Lay of Hildebrant_ to the riddles, lullabies, +and counting-out rhymes of children. Pictures of the moral and social +life of peasant Germany are followed by poems of nature and of the +supernatural. Tragedies vary with humorous skits, extravagant and +mocking, and the collection is enlivened with many flyting poems +about tailors--a favorite butt of the peasant past. Ballads of popular +origin and ballads with an added sentimental touch, such as the famous +Strassburg poem with the added Alpine horn motif, are found here. +Delicate, haunting rhymes alternate with crude assonances, and +occasionally one meets with banalities; but, as a whole, the +collection is of surprising merit. It is a product of the Romantic +return to the past, but is filled with a poetic outlook toward the +future. Of the work as a whole Heine says, "I cannot praise the book +enough. It contains the most graceful flowers of the German spirit, +and he who wishes to know the German people at their best, let him +read these folk-songs. * * * In these songs one feels the heart-beat +of the German folk. It is a revelation of all melancholy cheerfulness, +all their foolish reason. Here German anger beats its drum, here is +the pipe of German scorn, the kiss of German love." + +The part which the Romantic mood played in the Wars of Liberation is +definite and well-recognized. The soldier, Gneisenau, felt that the +politics of the future lay in the poetry of the day, and Adam Muller +proudly proclaimed poetry to be a war-power: The Romantic longing +for the distance, for love, when directed to the remote past of +the Fatherland, not only yielded a new life in art and religion but +induced a tremendous patriotism as well. The cosmopolitan temper which +caused Lessing to say that love of country was an unknown feeling to +him, gave way before an intenser nationalism. The earlier Romanticists +began it; in the later group it took more specific form and became +a propaganda. It was also precipitated in verse and prose. The spark +came from Fichte, who was gradually led to see in the destiny of +the German people a large cultural fact. Fichte, like a true German, +emphasized education as the means of progress: Arnim grasped the +problem from another side; he felt himself autochthonous, and +consciously set out to make his connection with the soil react on +those sprung from the soil. In him, as well as in Fichte, dawns the +ideal of the German people as an entity, as a nation. + +There are three poets whose main value lies in the appeal they made to +the belligerent spirit of the day. They represent three phases of the +German character. Ernst Moritz Arndt (1769-1860), the eldest of the +group, is the pamphleteer, the politician, and the teacher, as well +as the poet. He is the hard-headed, earnest intellectual whose lyric +poetry, whatever its esthetic weaknesses, arouses to action by its +deadly insistence on an idea, on hatred of the French, on salvation by +the sword. Arndt is all virility and fire. + +The life of Theodor Körner (1791-1813), the son of Schiller's intimate +friend, shows that mixture of idealism and practicality for which the +Germans are becoming more and more noted. Körner was aroused from his +poetic diletantism by the alarms of war. He enlisted in the famous +Lützow corps and died a soldier's death, thus becoming the symbol of +all that was ideal for the patriotic youth of his day, the hero and +the poet, the man of "Lyre and Sword." His patriotic poems, often +composed on the very field of battle, were sung by the soldiers to the +roll of cannon and the beat of drum. The trace of Schiller's rhetoric +in Körner's poems adds to their effectiveness, spurring to action and +firing young minds to patriotic emulation of high ideals. Like Arndt's +lyrics, Körner's poems are actual documents in the struggle for +liberty-verses which affected men. + +The German mystic trait, the touch of the religious, marks the poetry +of Max Schenkendorf (1783-1817). His was a quieter nature, which +loved the Fatherland, its language, its romantic scenes and past. +Characteristic also is his veneration for Queen Luise, whose beauty, +tenderness, and fortitude had endeared her to the people as well as to +the poets. + +Though every Romantic poet took some stand on the questions of +the day, the most distinctly lyric of them, Joseph von Eichendorff +(1788-1857), was not of a military temperament. Even he, however, +followed the King of Prussia's call to arms but, significantly enough +for "the last Knight of Romanticism," as he was called, arrived a day +too late on the field of Waterloo. The somewhat fanciful title by no +means indicates a jouster at windmills; it implies, rather, that +in Eichendorff there were gathered for the last time with all their +poetic brilliancy, the declining rays of the Romantic movement. After +him, the enthusiasm is in its decline or changes to forms which lie +outside the confines of the Romantic spirit. + +Eichendorff is a thorough _pleinairiste_, filled with the atmosphere +of his native Silesia and, in some measure, hardly intelligible apart +from its landscape. His birth-place, the castle of Lubowitz, near +Ratibor, rising high on a hill in full sight of the Oder, is the +ultimate background of all his nature-poetry. Here must be localized +the ever-recurring hill and valley, wood, nightingale, and castle. +Here, too, he heard the rustling of the forest leaves and the +splashing of the fountain; here he was grounded in the strong +and pious, if somewhat narrow, Catholicism of his race. It was a +Catholicism, however, which was genuinely Romantic in that it sought +comfort in sorrow directly from nature, a tendency which gives rise +to some of the best and most heartfelt religious poetry in German +literature. A fine example of this is to be found in Eichendorff's +beautiful poems on the death of his child. It is interesting to see +how, in this spiritual poetry, there is a constant melting of nature +into religion, a dissolving of the Romantic atmosphere, of that +youthful fervor which Eichendorff never really outgrew but continued +to draw upon for inspiration for all his later work, into a broad, +deep, manly piety. + +Eichendorff's poetry began with Tieckian notes; it was influenced by +Brentano, and, unfortunately, was colored by the productions of Count +Otto von Löben (1786-1825), a pseudo-Romanticist of less than +mediocre ability. But Eichendorff's individuality, with its constant +accentuation of the acoustic, soon made itself felt and brought into +German poetry what Tieck had tried for and failed in--an effect of +perfect musical synthesis. The melody of the verse receives a peculiar +lilt by frequent changes in metre between stanzas or in the midst of +the stanza, and is thus saved from monotony. Were its metrical harmony +tiring in any way, it could not have been set to music with such +surprising success. As it is, Eichendorff's poetry has become a +permanent part of the musical life of the nation. _The Broken +Ring_ has passed into a folk-song, and _"O valleys wide!"_ with +Mendelssohn's music is a popular choral of deep religious import. + +Yet Eichendorff does not attract either by the variety of his themes +or of his rhymes. It is his very repetitions which so endear him +to the popular heart. His is not passionate poetry, nor does it +subjectively portray the soul-life of its author. In fact, it is saved +from monotony of content at times only by its extreme honesty and +its lovable simplicity. There is none of Goethe's power of suggesting +landscape in a few touches, none of Goethe's logic of description, +none of Goethe's clear inner objectivity, but a certain haze lies over +Eichendorff's landscapes--the haze of a lyric Corot; at the same time, +this landscape has the power of suggestion to the German mind. Paul +Heyse, himself a poet, makes one of his characters say, "I have always +carried Eichendorff Is book of songs with me on my travels. Whenever a +feeling of strangeness comes over me in the variegated days, or I feel +a longing for home, I turn its leaves and am at home again. None of +our poets has the same magic reminiscence of home which captures our +hearts with such touching monotony, with so few pictures and notes. +* * * He is always new, as the voices of Nature itself, and never +oppresses, but rather lulls one to sweet dreams as if a mother were +singing her child to sleep." + +The one novel of Eichendorff which has lived, _From the Life of +a Good-for-nothing_ (1826), is a last Romantic shoot of Friedrich +Schlegel's doctrine of divine laziness--a delightful story, abounding +in those elements which perennially endear Romanticism to the young +heart, for it is full of nature and love and fortunate happenings. +What could be more charming than the spirit in which the hero throws +away the vegetables in his garden and puts in flowers? What more naïve +than his spyings, his fiddlings? The strength of the story lies in the +fact that while its head is in the clouds, its feet are on the ground. +There is no sentimentalizing, no breaking down of class distinctions; +the good-for-nothing marries his lady-love, but she is of his own +rank. The pseudo-Romanticism of modern novels is avoided; the +hero neither wins a kingdom nor is he the long-lost heir of some +potentate--he remains just what he was, a lovable good-for-nothing. +The weather-eye on probability is what in later times has helped the +Romanticists to slip so easily into Realism--and to reactionary views. + +Of all the great mass of material left by Friedrich de la Motte Fouqué +(1777-1843), only a lyric or two and the fairy tale _Undine_ have any +value for the present day. Fouqué represents the talent which develops +in the glare of the world, is popular for a decade, but soon withers +when the sun is set. His relations to Romanticism are largely +external; he frequented the salons of Rachel Levin and Henrietta Herz +in Berlin, was aided by August von Schlegel, and was praised by +Jean Paul; but in his heart he was not inspired by any of the deeper +longings that characterize the true Romantic spirit. Even though he is +to be credited with the first modern dramatization of the Nibelungen +story, _The Hero of the North_ (1810), and though he took subjects +from the Germanic past and from the chivalric days, he brought no new +life to his rehabilitations. Fouqué was too productive, too facile, +too external, too indifferent to psychological motivation to be real. +He diluted Romanticism and sentimentalized it. In him patriotism +becomes chauvinism; love, philandering; and his age of chivalry, a +thinly veiled and sentimental picture of his own times. The strength +and the indigenousness of Arnim are gone, and that power to throw a +Romantic glamor over life which Tieck and Hoffmann had, is lacking. + +Only in his charming fairy-tale, _Undine_ (1811), does Fouqué rise +above his _milieu. Undine_, the source of which, according to Fouqué +himself, is to be found in a work of Paracelsus on supernatural +beings, remains one of the best creations of the Romantic school and, +like Eichendorff's novel, has become international, not only in +its original form but in the opera by Lortzing (first performance, +Hamburg, 1845). The value of the story lies in the author's power +to make the reader believe in Undine, the water sprite, and in +the presentation of a new nature-mythology. All Romanticists have +consciously or unconsciously attempted to satisfy Friedrich Schlegel's +demand for anew mythology: Fouqué's earth, air, and water spirits +people the elements with graceful forms from the world of nature; the +nymph Undine in the form of a flowing stream embraces even in death +the grave of her lover. + +Ludwig Uhland (1787-1862) was not fundamentally a Romantic +personality. He is called "the classicist of Romanticism," and +with justice. The term shows that he is felt to have something of +completion, of inner perfection, of harmony of form and content which +was lacking in the truer Romanticists. Uhland was without their early +cosmopolitanism. Political life as manifested in him was, first of +all, Suabian--for Uhland was a Suabian and most intimately associated +with that section of Germany. He was actively and practically +interested in the politics of his native land as a member of its +legislative bodies and as delegate to the national parliament at +Frankfurt in 1848. Uhland had a conservative love for the "good old +Suabian law." He felt the doubtful position of the South German states +in the struggle against Napoleon, and it was only when Würtemberg took +its stand with the allies in the final conflict that the embarrassment +of his position was relieved, and Uhland's patriotic verse assumed its +full tone. But his poetry never became a spur to national achievement +like the verse of Arndt, that other German poet-professor. As a member +of the national parliament, Uhland was opposed to the exclusion +of Austria from the hegemony, and to the two-chamber system of +legislation. But Uhland's conservatism is unalterably honest without +any reactionary traits; he resigned his professorship rather than be +hindered in his political activities, and refused, with the peasant's +dourness, all the orders and distinctions that were offered him. + +Indeed, there is something of the peasant nature in all of Uhland's +verse. Sturdy reserve characterizes it--that reserve which forbids the +peasant to show his feelings under the stress of the greatest emotion. +Uhland does not carry his feelings to market; like Schiller, he is +not a love poet. There is no display, no self-analysis, no +self-exaltation, no amalgamation of self with nature. Uhland as a poet +is not interested in his own psychology, but in the impinging world +and in the tender past. When Goethe said that Uhland was primarily +a balladist, he was right, for the ballad presupposes just +that permeation of the object by the emotion that satisfies the +unquestionable lyric gift possessed by Uhland, without in any way +destroying the essentially narrative objectivity of his style. + +Uhland's greatest fame rests, then, on his ballads. The difference +between these and those of Goethe and Schiller is not merely in +the so-called "castle-Romanticism" of Uhland, not in a lingering +sentimentality in some of the poorer ones, but in Uhland's ability at +will to catch the folk-tone. Sometimes this folk-tone is a question +of certain technical tricks, such as the abrupt shift of scene, +repetition, varying series of scenes or words, archaized language; but +it is just as often in the mood which Uhland throws over the whole. He +thus can catch the inner form and essential mood of the popular ballad +in a way that not even Goethe does in his _Erlking_. Uhland's ballads +and romances vary greatly in quality; none, perhaps, has the grandiose +dramatic and ethical note of Schiller's _The Cranes of Ibycus_ +and none the power of revealing the hidden forces of nature in +anthropomorphic and demoniac form as Goethe does in his _Erlking_ and +_The Fisher_. But Uhland's poems are more varied in treatment, even +though he cannot be said to have brought any new forms and themes into +German verse. There is much talk of poets and poetry in his verse and +much of the tender melancholy of parting lovers, of separation and +death. There are also some very healthy bacchic notes. Often the +ballads are a mere presentation of a scene, with neither plot nor +moral; once in a while, too, Uhland shows a humorous touch. But +various as are his themes and treatments, the treatment is always +nicely adapted to the theme. + +It is difficult to imagine a better suiting of form and content than +in _The Singer's Curse_. The management of the vowel sequences is +truly wonderful and the rhymes carry the emotional words with a fine +virtuosity. _The Luck of Edenhall_, a variation of a Scottish theme +and also of the Biblical "_Mene tekel_," displays without sermonizing +the greatest ethical vigor. It has far more dramatic energy than +either Byron's or Heine's "Belshazzar" poems, with fully as much +dismal foreboding. _Taillefer_, which has been called "the sparkling +queen" of Uhland's ballads, has fresh vigor but lacks the power +of handling the moral forces of the universe with as much dramatic +vividness. It has a naïve joy of life not elsewhere found in Uhland's +ballads. + +Uhland was the greatest poet of the "Suabian School," a group of young +men who objected to being denominated a school. Among them was +William Hauff (1802-27), who is known for several lyrics, a number +of excellent short stories, and a historical novel, _Lichtenstein_ +(1826), in the manner of Scott. His _Trooper's Song_ is a variation +of an old theme and is of great metrical interest in that here, as +in Uhland, one may observe how the subtle handling of rhythm, the +lengthening or shortening of a line, or the shift of stress, brings +with it a corresponding shift of emotion. _Lichtenstein_ is the story +of the struggle of Ulrich of Würtemberg against the Suabian League and +gives us a Romantic picture of the Duke which is not justified by the +facts. It was, however, an attempt to vitalize history and owes its +origin to the Romantic longing for fatherland. Its immediate impulse +among Scott's novels was _Quentin Durward_ and, like _Quentin +Durward_, it has a double plot--the sentimental young lovers and the +romantic ruler. It also shows all the pageantry of Romanticism and the +naïve technique of the beginning of an art-form in the early stages of +a new literary movement. + +Friedrich Rückert (1788-1866) was prevented from taking part in the +Wars of Liberation by poor health, but added his _Sonnets in Harness_ +to the poetry of the period. These sonnets had no such stirring effect +as the poems of Körner, not only because of their literary form, but +because, in spite of their unquestioned belligerency, they had not the +tone of religious conviction against the enemy which characterized +the verses of Arndt and the rest. Other poems, like _Körner's Spirit_, +show how deeply Rückert felt himself in sympathy with his times; his +reward has been to have added a very large number of poems to the +every-day repertory of Germany. His _Barbarossa_ is found in almost +every reading book. + +The cycle _Love's Spring_ is an imperishable monument to his love for +Louisa Wiethaus. But too many of the poems are dedicated to her and +too many inconsequential moods relating to her are recorded. In spite +of this, Rückert has resolved the discord between every-day life and +poetry with the simplest poetic apparatus. Rückert has also enriched +the German language with a mass of gnomic poetry, to the writing of +which he was led by his Oriental studies. This gnomic poetry (_The +Wisdom of the Brahman_) has been aptly said to recall at times the +ripeness of the mature Goethe and at other times--Polonius. Rückert +was one of the first to introduce the Orient and its verse-forms +into German literature. Here the influence of Friedrich Schlegel +is unmistakable. He was also a master in the reproduction of the +complicated metres of the East and South. Though many of these +verse-forms have refused to become indigenous in Germany, a large +number of new words invented by Rückert have had poetical vogue, and +even where the new formations were too bold or too _recherché_, they +accustomed German ears to a new idea-presentation through sound. +Rückert, like the average Romanticist, lacked moderation in his +production, and was utterly without critical faculty in respect to +his own verse. Much that he has written has perished, but some of his +work--both original and translation--is a permanent part of the best +of German lyric verse. + +More individual than Rückert is Adalbert von Chamisso (1781-1838). +Though he was born in the Champagne in France, and was therefore a +fellow-countryman of Joinville and La Fontaine, he became a German +by education and preference, and his name is inseparably linked with +German scholarship and letters. It is remarkable that Chamisso began +to write German only after 1801 and is reported never to have spoken +it perfectly; yet his verse ranks with the best products of Germany in +fluency and in form. Much of it, especially that with woman's love as +its theme, is extremely German in thought and feeling, though perhaps +French in its keenness of analysis. So German is Chamisso felt to be +that at his best he is ranked with Goethe and Heine. + +When the boy Chamisso was nine years old, the family was driven from +France but was later allowed to return, though Adalbert never went +back permanently. Thus it was that during the years 1806-13, the young +expatriate led a life of the greatest mental torment; France no longer +meant anything to him, and in Germany he felt himself a stranger and +an outcast. Always awkward personally, and of a nervous temperament, +he found it difficult to adjust himself to surrounding conditions. +His scholarly zeal, however, and his ability to sit for hours in close +study, show how completely his mentality was adjustable to the German +manner. In Berlin he was accepted by the younger Romantic group and +was a member of the famous North Star Club with Arnim and his set. In +1815-18 he made a trip around the world, and in later years devoted +himself especially to the study of botany. + +Only the poetry of Chamisso's later period is of supreme consequence. +As a man in the fifties, he wrote some of his most beautiful verse. +He was a naïve poet, but a poet of many moods. His love poetry is the +poetry of longing, and ranks with that of Brentano in its ability to +suggest states of feeling. Among his best poems are his verse-tales, +such as _The Women of Weinsberg_, where his narrative genius ranks +with that of his fellow-countryman, La Fontaine. Especially good are +his poems in terzines. These mark the real introduction of this metre +into Germany. The best of these, _Salas y Gomez_, has the additional +advantage of real experience, for the material observation at the +basis of it is derived from his tour of circumnavigation. His poems in +this metre are often genre poems, pure prose in part, but frequently +of a drastic humor that ranks with that of the best of the old French +fabliaux. His realism is, however, never common, and, in such poems as +_The Old Washerwoman_, to quote Goethe's _Tasso_, "he often ennobles +what seems vulgar to us." + +Chamisso is Romantic in his interest in translations, in early +reminiscences of Uhland's "castle-Romanticism," and in his poetry of +indefinite longing, but his admiration for Napoleon and his tendency +toward realism point the way which all Romanticism naturally took--the +way leading through Heine to Young Germany on the one hand and through +Tieck's novelettes to realistic prose on the other. + +As a matter of fact, the work for which Chamisso is best known, a +work which has become international in popularity, _Peter Schlemihl_ +(1813), is an early bit of such realistic prose. The tale of the +man who sells his shadow to the devil for the sake of the sack of +Fortunatus has become in Chamisso's hands a genuine folk-fairy-tale +in key-note and style. At the same time it is thoroughly Romantic +in subject-matter and treatment. The word Schlemihl is a Hebrew word +variously interpreted as "Lover of God," or as "awkward fellow." If +it mean the former, Schlemihl then becomes a Theophilus, that medieval +Faust who also made a compact with the devil; if the latter, one who +breaks his finger when sticking it into a custard pie; then Schlemihl +is Chamisso himself, "that dean of Schlemihls," feeling himself at a +loss in any environment. He may be the man without a country, he may +be the man who draws attention to himself by selling what seems of +little value to him, but which afterward proves indispensable for the +right conduct of life. The story in this way brings forward a bit +of popular ethics, or, rather, it examines an ethical note from the +popular point of view. Like Hoffmann, Chamisso takes his reader into +the midst of current life, but, unlike Hoffmann, his moods are not +the dissolving views which leave the reader in doubt as to whether +the whole is a phantasmagoria and a hallucination. _Schlemihl_ is +genuinely and consistently realistic. It is a story in the first +person and has a rigidly logical arrangement of episodes leading up to +its climax. It does not make mood--it has mood. + +The brothers Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm are the products of Romantic +scholarship; they represent the highest type of scholarly attainment +and of scholarly personality. They are always thought of together, for +they shared all possessions alike and were not drawn apart by the fact +that William married and Jacob remained a bachelor. Their fidelity to +each other is touching, and no more lovable story is told than that +of Jacob's breaking down in a lecture and crying, "My brother is so +sick!" + +Jacob (1785-1863) was the philologist, the inductive gatherer of +scientific material, the close logical deducer of facts. He "presented +Germany with its mythology, with its history of legal antiquities, +with its grammar and its history of language." He is the author of +Grimm's law of consonant permutation which laid the foundations of +modern philological science and is the founder of philological science +in general. + +Wilhelm (1786-1859), no less exact a scientist, was more a Romantic +nature, with a greater power of synthesis under poetic stress. The +two brothers began their collecting activities under the influence +of Arnim, and their work with folk-tales in prose corresponds to _The +Boy's Magic Horn_ in verse. It was Wilhelm who gave Grimms' _Fairy +Tales_ their artistic form. He remolded, joined, separated--in +fact, wrought the crude materials into such shape that this work has +penetrated into every land and has become a household word for young +and old. The various early editions show the progress in the method +of Wilhelm. The first edition (1812) reproduces more exactly what the +brothers heard; the later ones show that Wilhelm consciously attempted +to give artistic form to the tales. That his method was justified +the history of the stories proves; they are not only material for +ethnological study, but are dear to all hearts. The stories have the +genuine folk-tone; they are true products of the folk-imagination, +with all the logic of that imagination. All phases of life are touched +and the interest never flags. The spirit of nature has been kept. + +The Romanticists were not successful in the drama. Kleist, the +greatest dramatist of the period, was not primarily a Romantic +poet. The Schlegels wrote frosty plays and Tieck attempted dramatic +production. It was left for the most bizarre of the Romantic group to +write the play of greatest power in it and to set a dramatic fashion +which for more than a decade carried all before it. + +Zacharias Werner (1768-1823), after a life of wild sensual excesses, +finally found refuge in the Roman Church and as a popular and +sensational preacher aroused Vienna with drastic sermons and clownish +antics. Of his various plays, _The Sons of the Valley_ (1803) and the +_Cross on the Baltic_ (1806) deserve mention for their religious +and mystic subject-matter, for which Werner himself has attempted an +explanation, though without adding to their understanding. _Martin +Luther, or the Consecration of Power_ (1807) is a pageant play of +great interest. Its recantation, _The Power of Weakness_, was written +after Werner's conversion. More important than these is his so-called +"fate tragedy," _The 24th of February_ (1810 per formed in Weimar; +published 1815). This day was a day of terror to Werner, for on it +he lost in the same year his mother and his most intimate friend. He +therefore in the play invests the day with a fatal significance, and +on it a malignant fate has especial power over the fortunes of the +persons of the drama; there is also a fatal requisite and a general +atmosphere of fatalism. The play started a whole series; some of +these were crude and weak imitations, others, like Grillparzer's _The +Ancestress_, were of great power. These plays were conditioned by +something in the air. Perhaps Napoleon, the man of fate, ruling the +minds and destinies of a whole continent, had something to do with the +philosophical background. Werner caught the fatalistic spirit, gave it +concise and logical form, and succeeded in producing a play which has +both atmosphere and logic of development. In all of these plays, in so +far as they are good, the effect is produced by the recognition +scenes which hold the reader rapt to the end. But the weak and vulgar +imitations of the category outnumbered the powerful plays in the +_genre_, and the well-merited death-blow was given them by Platen's +_The Fateful Fork_ (1826). + +E.T.A. Hoffmann (1776-1822) was a thoroughly Romantic person. Like +his fellow-Königsberger, Werner, he went through a period of wildest +dissipation, and all his life was easily influenced by alcohol. He was +a painter, a writer, and a musician. His ability in the pictorial arts +was mainly in caricature and his career as a composer is typically +Romantic; though he never but once completed a composition, that he +started, he was thoroughly at home in the theory of the art. Like all +Romanticists, Hoffmann was interested in and tried all phases of life +and refused to recognize the boundaries between the various parts +of existence, between the arts, and between reality and unreality. +Hoffmann, with all his North German power of reasoning and his zeal +and conscientiousness in public office, was emphatically _that_ +Romanticist associated with the night-sides of literature and life. +There is something uncanny both in the man and his writings. His +power of putting the scene of his most unreal stories in the midst of +well-known places, his ability to shift the reader from the real +to the unreal and _vice versa_, make some of his stories seem like +phantasmagorias. + +In all of Hoffmann's stories there is some unpleasant, bizarre +character; this is the author's satire on his own strange personality. +There is none of Poe's objectivity in Hoffmann, but he uses his +subjectivity in a peculiarly Romantic fashion. It is his idea to raise +the reader above the every-day point of view, to flee from this to +a magic world where the unusual shall take the place of the real and +where wonder shall rule. So there are in Hoffmann's stories a series +of characters who are really doubles. To the uninitiated they seem +every-day creatures; to those who know, they are fairies or beings +from the supernatural world. Such characters are found at their best +in _The Golden Pot_. + +Hoffmann has influenced both French and English literatures more than +any other Romantic poet. Hawthorne and Poe read him, and he was felt +by the French to be one of the first Germans whom they understood. It +was not merely that his clear reason appealed to the French, but that +they saw in him one endowed as with a sixth sense. He has a fineness +of observation, especially for the ridiculous sides of humanity, +together with a tenderness of spirit, that was new in German +literature as such men as Sainte-Beuve and Gautier saw it. The soul +at war with itself, uncovering its most secret thoughts, the _"malheur +d'être poète,"_ coupled with wit, taste, gaiety, and the comedy +spirit--all these the French found in Hoffmann as in no other German. +Poe was also influenced by Hoffmann, but Poe's whole world is the +supernatural, and where Hoffmann slips with fantastic but logical +changes from the real to the unreal, Poe's metempsychosis is the real +in his world and he has a deeper insight into the world of terror. The +difference between Hawthorne and Hoffmann is even more striking, for +in the American the supernatural is the embodiment of the Puritan +New England conscience. In Hoffmann there is no such elevation of the +moral world to the rank of an atmosphere. + +In Hoffmann there is no out-of-doors, no lyric love; some of his +characters are frankly insane. The musical takes on a supreme +significance among the sensations, and music seemed the only art which +was able to draw the soul of the man from his earth-bound habitation. +Only in music did Hoffmann find the ability to make the Romantic +escape from the homelessness of this existence to the all-embracing +world of the unreal. But too often in his works does the unreal fail +to satisfy the reader. There is an effort felt, an effect sought for, +and, while the amalgamation of the two worlds is perfect, the world +to which Hoffmann is able to take us proves to be without the cogency +which our imaginations expect. Here Hoffmann fails. His world of the +imagination cannot always be taken seriously. + +Count August von Platen-Hallermund (1796-1835) is characterized by +the eternal Romantic homelessness; at every turn of his career this +impresses one. Of ancient noble Franconian stock, he felt himself a +foreigner in Bavaria which had acquired Franconia in the Napoleonic +period. In his early life in the military academy at Munich he was +never thoroughly at home, for his was not a military spirit and he was +unable to follow his literary tastes. When finally he was enabled to +study at Würzburg and Erlangen, even the friendship of Schelling could +not compensate for the late beginning of a university career which was +filled with the study of modern European and Oriental languages but +which had the bitterest personal disappointments. Even in Italy, the +land of every German poet's dreams, Platen never felt himself at +home, and the pictures of him from his Italian life are of a tragic, +lonesome figure. The discord between body and soul, that homelessness +in one's own physical body which characterized Hoffmann and made him +seem diabolical to so many, is also to be noted in Platen. Carried +over to the moral world, it accounts for his ardent cultivation of +friendship rather than love, and frees him from the bitter accusations +of Heine, whose attack in _The Baths of Lucca_ is one of the most +scurrilous and venomous pasquils in all literary history. Finally, in +the esthetic world, Platen seems largely un-German. His esthetics were +of the Classical and Renaissance times; in an age of the breaking +down of conventions and of literary revolutions, Platen held himself +rigidly aristocratic; he clung to a canon of beauty in an age which +was giving birth to realism. + +Platen's poetry falls into two periods--the early German tentative +period and the later or foreign period, the poems of which were mostly +written in Italy and in imitation of, or adapted from, foreign metres. +Platen is always represented as a master of form, and, since +Jacob Grimm's characterization of him, has been accused of "marble +coldness." That Platen handled difficult metres with virtuosity is not +to be laid against him; it is to the advantage of German verse that +such poems as his _ghasels_ made indigenous, in part, the feeling for +mere beauty in verse. German poets have too often gone the road of +mere formlessness. Platen cultivated style, polished and revised his +lines with as great care as did his arch-enemy Heine, and it is only +a confession of lack of ear to refuse him the name of poet. No one who +reads his Polish Songs can help feeling that they are the products of +fire and inspiration. + +It must be confessed, however, that there is in Platen a remarkable +lack of inner experience. He went through life without ever having +been shaken to the depths of his nature and was, unfortunately, not of +so Olympian a calmness that, like Goethe, he could present the world +in plastic repose and sublimity. With all his refinement and fervor he +has left but few poems of lasting interest, and of these _The Grave in +the Busento_ is perhaps the best. + +[Illustration: THE MAGIC HORN] + + + + +_LUDWIG ACHIM VON ARNIM AND CLEMENS BRENTANO_ + + * * * * * + + THE BOY'S MAGIC HORN[7] (1806) + + WERE I A LITTLE BIRD + + + Were I a little bird, + And had two little wings, + I'd fly to thee; + But I must stay, because + That cannot be. + + Though I be far from thee, + In sleep I dwell with thee, + Thy voice I hear. + But when I wake again, + Then all is drear. + + Each nightly hour my heart + With thoughts of thee will start + When I'm alone; + For thou 'st a thousand times + Pledged me thine own. + + * * * * * + + THE MOUNTAINEER + + + Oh, would I were a falcon wild, + I should spread my wings and soar; + Then I should come a-swooping down + By a wealthy burgher's door. + + In his house there dwells a maiden, + She is called fair Magdalene, + And a fairer brown-eyed damsel + All my days I have not seen. + + On a Monday morning early, + Monday morning, they relate, + Magdalene was seen a-walking + Through the city's northern gate. + + Then the maidens said: "Thy pardon-- + Magdalene, where wouldst thou go?" + "Oh, into my father's garden, + Where I went the night, you know." + + And when she to the garden came, + And straight into the garden ran, + There lay beneath the linden-tree + Asleep, a young and comely man. + + "Wake up, young man, be stirring, + Oh rise, for time is dear, + I hear the keys a-rattling, + And mother will be here." + + "Hearst thou her keys a-rattling, + And thy mother must be nigh, + Then o'er the heath this minute + Oh come with me, and fly!" + + And as they wandered o'er the heath, + There for these twain was spread, + A shady linden-tree beneath, + A silken bridal-bed. + + And three half hours together, + They lay upon the bed. + "Turn round, turn round, brown maiden; + Give me thy lips so red!" + + "Thou sayst so much of turning round, + But naught of wedded troth, + I fear me I have slept away + My faith and honor both." + + "And fearest thou, thou hast slept away + Thy faith and honor too, + I say I'll wed thee yet, my dear, + So thou shalt never rue." + + Who was it sang this little lay, + And sang it o'er with cheer? + On St. Annenberg by the town, + It was the mountaineer. + + He sang it there right gaily, + Drank mead and cool red wine, + Beside him sat and listened + Three dainty damsels fine. + + As many as sand-grains in the sea, + As many as stars in heaven be, + As many as beasts that dwell in fields, + As many as pence which money yields, + As much as blood in veins will flow, + As much as heat in fire will glow, + As much as leaves in woods are seen + And little grasses in the green, + As many as thorns that prick on hedges, + As grains of wheat that harvest pledges, + As much as clover in meadows fair, + As dust a-flying in the air, + As many as fish in streams are found, + And shells upon the ocean's ground, + And drops that in the sea must go, + As many as flakes that shine in snow-- + As much, as manifold as life abounds both far and nigh, + So much, so many times, for e'er, oh thank the Lord on high! + +[Illustration: LUDWIG ACHIM VON ARNIM Ströhling] + +[Illustration: CLEMENS BRENTANO E. Linder] + + * * * * * + + THE SWISS DESERTER + + + At Strassburg in the fort + All woe began for me + The Alpine bugle's call enticed me o'er, + I had to swim to my dear country's shore; + That should not be. + + One hour 'twas in the night, + They took me in my plight, + And led me straightway to the captain's door. + O God, they caught me in the stream--what more? + Now all is o'er. + + Tomorrow morn at ten + The regiment I'll have to face; + They'll lead me there to beg for grace. + I'll have my just reward, I know. + It must be so. + + Ye brothers, all ye men, + Ye'll never see me here again; + The shepherd boy, I say, began it all, + And I accuse the Alpine bugle-call + Of this my fall. + + I pray ye, brothers three, + Come on and shoot at me; + Fear not my tender life to hurt, + Shoot on and let the red blood spurt-- + Come on, I say! + + O Lord of heaven, on high! + Take my poor erring soul + Unto its heavenly goal; + There let it stay forever-- + Forget me never! + + * * * * * + + THE TAILOR IN HELL + + + A tailor 'gan to wander + One Monday morning fair, + And then he met the devil, + Whose feet and legs were bare: + Hallo, thou tailor-fellow, + Come now with me to hell--oh, + And measure clothes for us to wear, + For what we will, is well, oh! + + The tailor measured, then he took + His scissors long, and clipped + The devils' little tails all off, + And to and fro they skipped. + Hallo, thou tailor-fellow, + Now hie thee out of hell--oh, + We do not need this clipping, sir, + For what we will, is well, oh! + + The tailor took his iron out, + And tossed it in the fire; + The devils' wrinkles then he pressed; + Their screams were something dire. + Hallo, thou tailor-fellow, + Begone now from our hell--oh, + We do not need this pressing, + For what we will, is well, oh! + + "Keep still!" he said and pierced their heads + With a bodkin from his sack. + "This way we put the buttons on, + For that's our tailor's knack! + Hallo, thou tailor-fellow, + Now get thee out of hell--oh, + We do not need this dressing, + For what we will, is well, oh! + + With thimble and with needle then + His stitching he began, + And closed the devils' nostrils up + As tight as e'er one can. + + Hallo, thou tailor-fellow, + Now his thee out of hell--oh, + We cannot use our noses, + Do what we will for smell, oh! + + Then he began to cut away-- + It must have made them smart; + With all his might the tailor ripped + The devils' ears apart. + Hallo, thou tailor-fellow, + Now march away from hell--oh, + We else should need a doctor, + If what we will were well--oh! + + And last of all came Lucifer + And cried: "What horror fell! + No devil has his little tail; + So drive him out of hell." + Hallo, thou tailor-fellow, + Now his thee out of hell--oh, + We need to wear no clothes at all-- + For what we will, is well, oh! + + And when the tailor's sack was packed, + He felt so very well--oh! + He hopped and skipped without dismay + And had a laughing spell, oh! + And hurried out of hell--oh, + And stayed a tailor-fellow; + And the devil will catch no tailor now, + Let him steal, as he will--it is well, though! + +[Illustration: THE REAPER Walter Crane] + + * * * * * + + THE REAPER + + + There is a reaper, Death his name; + His might from God the highest came. + Today his knife he'll whet, + 'Twill cut far better yet; + Soon he will come and mow, + And we must bear the woe-- + Beware, fair flower! + + The flowers fresh and green today, + Tomorrow will be mowed away + Narcissus so white, + The meadows' delight, + The hyacinthias pale + And morning-glories frail-- + Beware, fair flower! + + Full many thousand blossoms blithe + Must fall beneath his deadly scythe: + Roses and lilies pure, + Your end is all too sure! + Imperial lilies rare + He will not spare-- + Beware, fair flower! + + The bluet wee, of heaven's hue, + The tulips white and yellow too, + The dainty silver bell, + The golden phlox as well-- + All sink upon the earth. + Oh, what a sorry dearth! + Beware, fair flower! + + Sweet lavender of lovely scent, + And rosemary, dear ornament, + Sword-lilies proud, unfurled, + And basil, quaintly curled, + And fragile violet blue-- + He soon will seize you too! + Beware, fair flower! + + Death, I defy thee! Hasten near + With one great sweep--I have no fear! + Though hurt, I'll stay undaunted, + For I shall be transplanted + Into the garden by heaven's gate, + The heavenly garden we all await. + Rejoice, fair flower! + + + + + +_JACOB AND WILHELM GRIMM_ + + * * * * * + +FAIRY TALES[8] (1812) + +TRANSLATED AND EDITED BY MARGARET HUNT + +THE FROG-KING, OR IRON HENRY + + +In old times, when wishing still helped one, there lived a king whose +daughters were all beautiful, but the youngest was so beautiful that +the sun itself, which has seen so much, was astonished whenever it +shone in her face. Close by the King's castle lay a great dark forest, +and under an old lime-tree in the forest was a well, and when the day +was warm the King's child went out into the forest and sat down by +the side of the cool fountain, and when she was dull she took a +golden ball and threw it up high and caught it, and this ball was her +favorite plaything. + +Now it so happened that, on one occasion, the princess' golden ball +did not fall into the little hand which she was holding up for it, but +onto the ground beyond, and rolled straight into the water. The King's +daughter followed it with her eyes, but it vanished, and the well was +deep so deep that the bottom could not be seen. On this she began to +cry, and cried louder and louder, and could not be comforted. And +as she thus lamented, some one said to her: "What ails thee, King's +daughter? Thou weepest so that even a stone would show pity." She +looked around to the side from whence the voice came, and saw a +frog stretching forth its thick, ugly head from the water. "Ah! old +water-splasher, is it thou?" asked she; "I am weeping for my golden +ball, which has fallen into the well." + +[Illustration: JACOB GRIMM E. Hader] + +[Illustration: WILLIAM GRIMM E. Hader] + +"Be quiet, and do not weep," answered the frog; "I can help thee; but +what wilt thou give me if I bring thy plaything up again?" "Whatever +thou wilt have, dear frog," said she--"my clothes, my pearls and +jewels, and even the golden crown which I am wearing." + +The frog answered, "I do not care for thy clothes, thy pearls and +jewels, or thy golden crown, but if thou wilt love me and let me be +thy companion and play-fellow, and sit by thee at thy little table, +and eat off thy little golden plate, and drink out of thy little cup, +and sleep in thy little bed--if thou wilt promise me this I will go +down below and bring thee thy golden ball again." + +"Oh, yes," said she, "I promise thee all thou wishest, if thou wilt +but bring me my ball back again." She, how ever, thought, "How the +silly frog does talk! He lives in the water with the other frogs and +croaks, and can be no companion to any human being!" + +But the frog, when he had received this promise, put his head into the +water and sank down, and in a short time came swimming up again with +the ball in his mouth, and threw it on the grass. The King's daughter +was delighted to see her pretty plaything once more, and picked it up, +and ran away with it. "Wait, wait," said the frog; "take me with thee; +I can't run as thou canst." But what did it avail him to scream his +croak, croak, after her, as loudly as he could? She did not listen to +it, but ran home and soon forgot the poor frog, who was forced to go +back into his well again. + +The next day, when she had seated herself at the table with the King +and all the courtiers and was eating from her little golden plate, +something came creeping splish splash, splish splash, up the marble +staircase, and when it had got to the top, it knocked at the door and +cried, "Princess, youngest princess, open the door for me." She ran to +see who was outside, but when she opened the door, there sat the frog +in front of it. Then she slammed the door to, in great haste, sat down +to dinner again, and was quite frightened. The King saw plainly that +her heart was beating violently, and said, "My child, what art thou so +afraid of? Is there perchance a giant outside who wants to carry thee +away?" "Ah, no," replied she, "it is no giant, but a disgusting frog." + +"What does the frog want with thee?" "Ah, dear father, yesterday when +I was in the forest sitting by the well, playing, my golden ball fell +into the water. And because I cried so the frog brought it out again +for me, and because he insisted so on it, I promised him he should be +my companion; but I never thought he would be able to come out of his +water! And now he is outside there, and wants to come in to me." + +In the meantime it knocked a second time, and cried + + "Princess! youngest princess! + Open the door for me! + Dost thou not know what thou saidst to me + Yesterday by the cool waters of the fountain! + Princess, youngest princess! + Open the door for me!" + +Then said the King, "That which thou has promised must thou perform. +Go and let him in." She went and opened the door, and the frog hopped +in and followed her, step by step, to her chair. There he sat still +and cried, "Lift me up beside thee." She delayed, until at last the +King commanded her to do it. When the frog was once on the chair he +wanted to be on the table, and when he was on the table he said, "Now, +push thy little golden plate nearer to me that we may eat together." +She did this, but it was easy to see that she did not do it willingly. +The frog enjoyed what he ate, but almost every mouthful she took +choked her. At length he said, "I have eaten and am satisfied; now I +am tired, carry me into thy little room and make thy little silken bed +ready, and we will both lie down and go to sleep." + +The King's daughter began to cry, for she was afraid of the cold frog +which she did not like to touch, and which was now to sleep in her +pretty, clean little bed. But the King grew angry and said, "He +who helped thee when thou wert in trouble ought not afterward to be +despised by thee." So she took hold of the frog with two fingers, +carried him upstairs, and put him in a corner. But when she was in +bed he crept to her and said, "I am tired, I want to sleep as well +as thou; lift me up or I will tell thy father." Then she was terribly +angry, and took him up and threw him with all her might against the +wall. "Now thou wilt be quiet, odious frog," said she. But when he +fell down he was no frog but a king's son with beautiful kind eyes. He +by her father's will was now her dear companion and husband. Then he +told her how he had been bewitched by a wicked witch, and how no one +could have delivered him from the well but herself, and that tomorrow +they would go together into his kingdom. Then they went to sleep, and +next morning when the sun awoke them, a carriage came driving up with +eight white horses, which had white ostrich feathers on their heads, +and were harnessed with golden chains, and behind stood the young +King's servant, faithful Henry. Faithful Henry had been so unhappy +when his master was changed into a frog that he had caused three iron +bands to be laid round his heart, lest it should burst with grief and +sadness. The carriage was to conduct the young King into his kingdom. +Faithful Henry helped them both in, and placed himself behind again, +and was full of joy because of this deliverance. And when they had +driven a part of the way, the King's son heard a crackling behind him +as if something had broken. So he turned round and cried, "Henry, the +carriage is breaking." + +"No, master, it is not the carriage. It is a band from my heart, which +was put there in my great pain when you were a frog and imprisoned in +the well." Again and once again while they were on their way something +cracked, and each time the King's son thought the carriage was +breaking; but it was only the bands which were springing from the +heart of faithful Henry because his master was set free and was happy. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE WOLF AND THE SEVEN LITTLE KIDS + + +There was once on a time an old goat who had seven little kids, and +she loved them with all the love of a mother for her children. One day +she wanted to go into the forest and fetch some food. So she called +all seven to her and said, "Dear children, I have to go into the +forest; be on your guard against the wolf; if he comes in, he will +devour you all--skin, hair, and everything. The wretch often disguises +himself, but you will know him at once by his rough voice and his +black feet." The kids said, "Dear mother, we will take good care of +ourselves; you may go away without any anxiety." Then the old one +bleated and went on her way with an easy mind. + +It was not long before some one knocked at the house door, and cried, +"Open the door, dear children; your mother is here, and has brought +something back with her for each of you." But the little kids knew +that it was the wolf, by the rough voice. "We will not open the door," +cried they; "thou art not our mother. She has a soft, pleasant voice, +but thy voice is rough; thou art the wolf!" Then the wolf went away to +a shopkeeper and bought himself a great lump of chalk, ate this, and +made his voice soft with it. Then he came back, knocked at the door +of the house, and cried, "Open the door, dear children; your mother is +here and has brought something back with her for each of you." But the +wolf had laid his black paws against the window, and the children saw +them and cried, "We will not open the door; our mother has not black +feet like thee; thou art the wolf!" Then the wolf ran to a baker and +said, "I have hurt my feet, rub some dough over them for me." And when +the baker had rubbed his feet over, he ran to the miller and said, +"Strew some white meal over my feet for me." The miller thought to +himself, "The wolf wants to deceive some one," and refused; but the +wolf said, "If thou wilt not do it, I will devour thee." Then the +miller was afraid, and made his paws white for him. Truly men are like +that. + +So now the wretch went for the third time to the house door, knocked +at it, and said, "Open the door for me, children; your dear little +mother has come home, and has brought every one of you something back +from the forest with her." The little kids cried, "First show us thy +paws that we may know if thou art our dear little mother." Then he put +his paws in through the window, and when the kids saw that they were +white, they believed that all he said was true, and opened the door. +But who should come in but the wolf! They were terrified and wanted to +hide themselves. One sprang under the table, the second into the bed, +the third into the stove, the fourth into the kitchen, the fifth into +the cupboard, the sixth under the washing-bowl, and the seventh +into the clock-case. But the wolf found them all, and used no great +ceremony; one after the other he swallowed them down his throat. The +youngest in the clock-case was the only one he did not find. When the +wolf had satisfied his appetite he took himself off, laid himself +down under a tree in the green meadow outside, and went to sleep. Soon +afterward the old goat came home again from the forest. Ah! what +a sight she saw there! The house door stood wide open. The table, +chairs, and benches were thrown down, the washing-bowl lay broken to +pieces, and the quilts and pillows were pulled off the bed. She sought +her children, but they were nowhere to be found. She called them one +after another by name, but no one answered. At last, when she came +to the youngest, a soft voice cried, "Dear mother, I am in the +clock-case." She took the kid out, and it told her that the wolf had +come and had eaten all the others. Then you may imagine how she wept +over her poor children. + +At length in her grief she went out, and the youngest kid ran with +her. When they came to the meadow, there lay the wolf by the tree +snoring so loud that the branches shook. She looked at him on every +side and saw that something was moving and struggling in his gorged +body. "Ah, heavens!" said she, "is it possible that my poor children, +whom he has swallowed down for his supper, can be still alive?" Then +the kid had to run home and fetch scissors, and a needle and thread, +and the goat cut open the monster's stomach. Hardly had she made one +cut than one little kid thrust its head out; and, when she had cut +further, all six sprang out one after another. They were all still +alive and had suffered no injury whatever, for in his greediness the +monster had swallowed them down whole. What rejoicing there was! +Then they embraced their dear mother, and jumped like a tailor at +his wedding. The mother, however, said, "Now go and look for some big +stones, and we will fill the wicked beast's stomach with them while he +is still asleep." Then the seven kids dragged the stones thither with +all speed, and put as many of them into his stomach as they could get +in; and the mother sewed him up again in the greatest haste, so that +he was not aware of anything, and never once stirred. + +When the wolf at length had had his sleep out, he got on his legs, +and, as the stones in his stomach made him very thirsty, he wanted to +go to a well to drink. But when he began to walk and to move about, +the stones in his stomach knocked against one another and rattled. +Then cried he-- + + "What rumbles and tumbles + Against my poor bones? + I thought 'twas six kids, + But it's naught but big stones." + +And when he got to the well and stooped over the water and was just +about to drink, the heavy stones made him fall in and there was no +help, but he had to drown miserably. When the seven kids saw that, +they came running to the spot, and cried aloud, "The wolf is dead! +The wolf is dead!" and danced for joy round about the well with their +mother. + + * * * * * + + + + +RAPUNZEL + + +There were once a man and a woman who had long in vain wished for +a child. At length the woman hoped that God was about to grant her +desire. These people had a little window at the back of their house +from which a splendid garden could be seen, which was full of the most +beautiful flowers and herbs. It was, however, surrounded by a high +wall, and no one dared to go into it because it belonged to an +enchantress, who had great power and was dreaded by all the world. One +day the woman was standing by this window and looking down into the +garden, when she saw a bed which was planted with the most beautiful +rampion (rapunzel), and it looked so fresh and green that she longed +for it, and had the greatest desire to eat some. This desire increased +every day, and as she knew that she could not get any of it, she +quite pined away and looked pale and miserable. Then her husband was +alarmed, and asked, "What aileth thee, dear wife?" "Ah," she replied, +"if I can't get some of the rampion, which is in the garden behind our +house, to eat, I shall die." The man, who loved her, thought, "Sooner +than let my wife die, I will bring her some of the rampion myself, +let it cost me what it will." In the twilight of evening, he clambered +down over the wall into the garden of the enchantress, hastily +clutched a handful of rampion, and took it to his wife. She at once +made herself a salad of it and ate it with much relish. She, however, +liked it so much, so very much, that the next day she longed for it +three times as much as before, and, if he was to have any rest, +her husband must once more descend into the garden. In the gloom +of evening, therefore, he let himself down again; but when he had +clambered down the wall he was terribly afraid, for he saw the +enchantress standing before him. "How can't thou dare," said she with +angry look, "to descend into my garden and steal my rampion like a +thief? Thou shalt suffer for it!" "Ah," answered he, "let mercy +take the place of justice; I only made up my mind to do it out of +necessity. My wife saw your rampion from the window, and felt such +a longing for it that she would have died if she had not got some to +eat." Then the enchantress allowed her anger to be softened, and said +to him, "If the case be as thou sayest, I will allow thee to take +away with thee as much rampion as thou wilt, only I make one +condition--thou must give me the child which thy wife will bring into +the world; it shall be well treated and I will care for it like a +mother." The man in his terror consented to everything, and when the +woman was brought to bed, the enchantress appeared at once, gave the +child the name of Rapunzel, and took it away with her. + +Rapunzel grew into the most beautiful child beneath the sun. When she +was twelve years old, the enchantress shut her into a tower which lay +in a forest and had neither stairs nor door, but quite at the top +was a little window. When the enchantress wanted to go in, she placed +herself beneath this, and cried cried-- + + "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, + Let down thy hair to me." + +Rapunzel had magnificent long hair, fine as spun gold, and when she +heard the voice of the enchantress she unfastened her braided tresses, +wound them round one of the hooks of the window above, and then the +hair fell twenty ells down, and the enchantress climbed up by it. + +After a year or two, it came to pass that the King's son rode through +the forest and went by the tower; there he heard a song, which was so +charming that he stood still and listened. This was Rapunzel, who in +her solitude passed her time in letting her sweet voice resound. The +King's son wanted to climb up to her, and looked for the door of the +tower, but none was to be found. He rode home, but the singing had so +deeply touched his heart that every day he went out into the forest +and listened to it. Once, when he was thus standing behind a tree, he +saw that an enchantress came there, and he heard how she cried-- + + "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, + Let down thy hair." + +Then Rapunzel let down the braids of her hair, and the enchantress +climbed up to her. "If that is the ladder by which one mounts, I will +for once try my fortune," said he; and the next day when it began to +grow dark, he went to the tower and cried-- + + "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, + Let down thy hair." + +Immediately the hair fell down and the King's son climbed up. + +At first Rapunzel was terribly frightened when a man such as her eyes +had never yet beheld came to her; but the King's son began to talk +to her quite like a friend, and told her that his heart had been so +stirred that it had let him have no rest, and he had been forced to +see her. Then Rapunzel lost her fear, and when he asked her if she +would take him for her husband, and she saw that he was young and +handsome, she thought, "He will love me more than old Dame Gothel +does;" and she said yes, and laid her hand in his. She said, "I will +willingly go away with thee, but I do not know how to get down. Bring +with thee a skein of silk every time that thou comest, and I will +weave a ladder with it, and when that is ready I will descend, and +thou wilt take me on thy horse." They agreed that, until that time, he +should always come to see her in the evening, for the old woman came +by day. The enchantress remarked nothing of this, until once Rapunzel +said to her, "Tell me, Dame Gothel, how it happens that you are so +much heavier for me to draw up than the young King's son--he is with +me in a moment." "Ah! thou wicked child," cried the enchantress, "what +do I hear thee say? I thought I had separated thee from all the world, +and yet thou hast deceived me!" In her anger she clutched Rapunzel's +beautiful tresses, wrapped them twice round her left hand, seized a +pair of scissors with the right, and, snip, snap, they were cut off, +and the lovely braids lay on the ground. And she was so pitiless that +she took poor Rapunzel into a desert where she had to live in great +grief and misery. + +On the same day, however, that she cast out Rapunzel, the enchantress +in the evening fastened the braids of hair which she had cut off to +the hook of the window, and when the King's son came and cried cried-- + + "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, + Let down thy hair," + +she let the hair down. The King's son ascended, but he did not find +his dearest Rapunzel above-only the enchantress, who gazed at him with +wicked and venomous looks. "Aha!" she cried mockingly, "thou wouldst +fetch thy dearest, but the beautiful bird sits no longer singing in +the nest; the cat has got it, and will scratch out thy eyes as well. +Rapunzel is lost to thee; thou wilt never see her more." The King's +son was beside himself with pain, and in his despair leapt down from +the tower. He escaped with his life, but the thorns into which he fell +pierced his eyes. Then he wandered quite blind about the forest, ate +nothing but roots and berries, and did nothing but lament and weep +over the loss of his dearest wife. Thus he roamed about in misery for +some years, and at length came to the desert where Rapunzel, with +the twins to which she had given birth, a boy and a girl, lived in +wretchedness. He heard a voice, and it seemed so familiar to him that +he went toward it, and, when he approached, Rapunzel knew him and fell +on his neck and wept. Two of her tears wetted his eyes and they grew +clear again so that he could see with them as before. He led her to +his kingdom where he was joyfully received, and they lived for a long +time afterward, happy and contented. + + * * * * * + + + + +HAENSEL AND GRETHEL + + +Hard by a great forest dwelt a poor wood-cutter with his wife and his +two children. The boy was called Haensel and the girl Grethel. He had +little to bite and to break, and once, when great scarcity fell on the +land, he could no longer procure daily bread. Now when he thought over +this by night in his bed, and tossed about in his anxiety, he groaned +and said to his wife, "What is to become of us? How are we to feed +our poor children when we no longer have anything even for ourselves?" +"I'll tell you what, husband," answered the woman, "early tomorrow +morning we will take the children out into the forest to where it is +the thickest, and there we will light a fire for them, and give each +of them one piece of bread more; then we will go to our work and leave +them alone. They will not find the way home again, and we shall be +rid of them." "No, wife," said the man, "I will not do that; how can I +bear to leave my children alone in the forest? The wild animals would +soon come and tear them to pieces." "O, thou fool!" said she, "then we +must all four die of hunger and thou mayest as well plane the planks +for our coffins;" and she left him no peace until he consented. "But I +feel very sorry for the poor children, all the same," said the man. + +[Illustration: HÄNSEL AND GRETHEL Ludwig Richter] + +The two children had also not been able to sleep for hunger, and had +heard what their step-mother had said to their father. Grethel wept +bitter tears, and said to Haensel, "Now all is over with us." "Be +quiet, Grethel," said Haensel. "Do not distress thyself, I will soon +find a way to help us." And when the old folks had fallen asleep, he +got up, put on his coat, opened the door below, and crept outside. The +moon shone brightly and the white pebbles which lay in front of the +house glittered like real silver pennies. Haensel stooped and put as +many of them in the little pocket of his coat as he could possibly get +in. Then he went back and said to Grethel, "Be comforted, dear little +sister, and sleep in peace; God will not forsake us;" and he lay down +again in his bed. When day dawned, but before the sun had risen, the +woman came and awoke the two children, saying, "Get up, you sluggards! +we are going into the forest to fetch wood." She gave each a little +piece of bread, and said, "There is something for your dinner, but +do not eat it up before then, for you will get nothing else." Grethel +took the bread under her apron, as Haensel had the stones in his +pocket. Then they all set out together on the way to the forest. When +they, had walked a short time, Haensel stood still and peeped back at +the house, and did so again and again. His father said, "Haensel, what +art thou looking at there and staying behind for? Mind what thou art +about, and do not forget how to use thy legs." "Ah, father," said +Haensel, "I am looking at my little white cat, which is sitting upon +the roof, and wants to say good-bye to me." The wife said, "Fool, that +is not thy little cat; that is the morning sun which is shining on the +chimneys." Haensel, however, had not been looking back at the cat, but +had been constantly throwing one of the white pebble-stones out of his +pocket on the road. + +When they had reached the middle of the forest, the father said, "Now, +children, pile up some wood, and I will light a fire that you may not +be cold." Haensel and Grethel gathered brushwood together, as high +as a little hill. The brushwood was lighted, and when the flames were +burning very high the woman said, "Now, children, lay yourselves down +by the fire and rest and we will go into the forest and cut some wood. +When we have done, we will come back and fetch you away." + +Haensel and Grethel sat by the fire, and, when noon came, each ate a +little piece of bread, but, as they heard the strokes of the wood-axe, +they believed that their father was near. It was, however, not the +axe; it was a branch which he had fastened to a withered tree which +the wind was blowing backward and forward; and, as they had been +sitting such a long time, their eyes shut with fatigue and they +fell fast asleep. When at last they awoke it was already dark night. +Grethel began to cry and said, "How are we to get out of the forest +now?" But Haensel comforted her and said, "Just wait a little, until +the moon has risen, and then we will soon find the way." And when the +full moon had risen, Haensel took his little sister by the hand and +followed the pebbles, which shone like newly-coined silver pieces and +showed them the way. + +They walked the whole night long, and by break of day came once more +to their father's house. They knocked at the door, and when the woman +opened it and saw that it was Haensel and Grethel, she said, "You +naughty children, why have you slept so long in the forest? We thought +you were never coming back at all!" The father, however, rejoiced, for +it had cut him to the heart to leave them behind alone. + +Not long afterward, there was once more great scarcity in all parts, +and the children heard their mother saying at night to their father, +"Everything is eaten again; we have one-half loaf left, and after that +there is an end. The children must go. We will take them farther into +the wood, so that they will not find their way out again; there is no +other means of saving ourselves!" The man's heart was heavy, and he +thought, "It would be better for thee to share the last mouthful with +thy children." The woman, however, would listen to nothing that he +had to say, but scolded and reproached him. He who says A must say +B likewise, and, as he had yielded the first time, he had to do so a +second time also. + +The children were, however, still awake and had heard the +conversation. When the old folks were asleep, Haensel again got up, +and wanted to go out and pick up pebbles; but the woman had locked +the door, and Haensel could not get out. Nevertheless he comforted his +little sister, and said, "Do not cry, Grethel, go to sleep quietly. +The good God will help us." + +Early in the morning came the woman, and took the children out of +their beds. Their bit of bread was given to them, but it was still +smaller than the time before. On the way into the forest Haensel +crumbled his in his pocket, and often stood still and threw a morsel +on the ground. "Haensel, why dost thou stop and look around?" asked +the father; "go on." "I am looking back at my little pigeon which +is sitting on the roof, and wants to say good-bye to me," answered +Haensel. "Simpleton!" said the woman, "that is not thy little pigeon, +that is the morning sun that is shining on the chimney." Haensel, +however, little by little, threw all the crumbs on the path. + +The woman led the children still deeper into the forest, where they +had never in their lives been before. Then a great fire was again +made, and the mother said, "Just sit there, you children, and when you +are tired you may sleep a little; we are going into the forest to cut +wood, and in the evening, when we are done, we will come and fetch +you away." When it was noon, Grethel shared her piece of bread with +Haensel, who had scattered his by the way. Then they fell asleep and +evening came and went, but no one came to the poor children. They did +not awake until it was dark night; but Haensel comforted his little +sister and said, "Just wait, Grethel, until the moon rises, and then +we shall see the crumbs of bread which I have strewn about. They will +show us our way home again." When the moon rose they set out, but they +found no crumbs, for the many thousands of birds which fly about in +the woods and fields had picked them all up. Haensel said to Grethel, +"We shall soon find the way," but they did not find it. They walked +the whole night and all the next day too, from morning till evening, +but they did not get out of the forest, and were very hungry, for they +had nothing to eat but two or three berries which grew on the ground. +And as they were so weary that their legs would carry them no longer, +they lay down beneath a tree and fell asleep. + +It was now three mornings since they had left their father's house. +They began to walk again, but they always got so much deeper into the +forest that, if help did not come soon, they must die of hunger and +weariness. When it was mid-day, they saw a beautiful snow-white bird +sitting on a bough, which sang so delightfully that they stood still +and listened to it. And when it had finished its song, it spread +its wings and flew away before them, and they followed it until they +reached a little house, on the roof of which it alighted; and when +they came quite up to the little house they saw that it was built +of bread and covered with cakes, and that the windows were of clear +sugar. "We will set to work on that," said Haensel, "and have a good +meal. I will eat a bit of the roof, and thou, Grethel, canst eat some +of the window; it will taste sweet." Haensel reached up above, and +broke off a little of the roof to try how it tasted, and Grethel leant +against the window and nibbled at the panes. Then a soft voice cried +from the room-- + + "Nibble, nibble, gnaw, + Who is nibbling at my little house?" + +The children answered-- + + "The wind, the wind, + The heaven-born wind," + +and went on eating without disturbing themselves. + +Haensel, who thought the roof tasted very nice, tore down a +great piece of it, and Grethel pushed out the whole of one round +window-pane, sat down, and enjoyed herself with it. Suddenly the door +opened, and a very, very old woman, who supported herself on crutches, +came creeping out. Haensel and Grethel were so terribly frightened +that they let fall what they had in their hands. The old woman, +however, nodded her head, and said, "Oh, you dear children, who has +brought you here? Do come in, and stay with me. No harm shall happen +to you." She took them both by the hand, and led them into her little +house. Then good food was set before them, milk and pancakes, with +sugar, apples, and nuts. Afterward two pretty little beds were covered +with clean white linen, and Haensel and Grethel lay down in them, and +thought they were in heaven. + +The old woman had only pretended to be so kind; she was in reality +a wicked witch, who lay in wait for children, and had only built the +little bread house in order to entice them there. When a child fell +into her power, she killed it, cooked and ate it, and that was a feast +day with her. Witches have red eyes, and cannot see far, but they have +a keen scent, like the beasts, and are aware when human beings draw +near. When Haensel and Grethel came into her neighborhood, she laughed +maliciously, and said mockingly, "I have them; they shall not escape +me again!" Early in the morning, before the children were awake, she +was already up, and when she saw both of them sleeping and looking so +pretty, with their plump red cheeks, she muttered to herself, "That +will be a dainty mouthful!" Then she seized Haensel with her shriveled +hand, carried him into a little stable, and shut him in with a grated +door. He might scream as he liked, that was of no use. Then she went +to Grethel, shook her till she awoke, and cried, "Get up, lazy thing, +fetch some water, and cook something good for thy brother; he is in +the stable outside, and is to be made fat. When he is fat, I will eat +him." Grethel began to weep bitterly, but it was all in vain; she was +forced to do what the wicked witch ordered her. + +And now the best food was cooked for poor Haensel, but Grethel got +nothing but crab-shells. Every morning the woman crept to the little +stable, and cried, "Haensel, stretch out thy finger that I may feel if +thou wilt soon be fat." Haensel, however, stretched out a little bone +to her, and the old woman, who had dim eyes, could not see it, and +thought it was Haensel's finger, and was astonished that there was no +way of fattening him. When four weeks had gone by, and Haensel still +continued thin, she was seized with impatience and would not wait any +longer. "Hola, Grethel," she cried to the girl, "be active, and bring +some water. Let Haensel be fat or lean, tomorrow I will kill him and +cook him." Ah, how the poor little sister did lament when she had +to fetch the water, and how her tears did flow down over her cheeks! +"Dear God, do help us!" she cried. "If the wild beasts in the forest +had but devoured us, we should at any rate have died together." "Just +keep thy noise to thyself," said the old woman; "all that won't help +thee at all." + +Early in the morning, Grethel had to go out and hang up the caldron +with the water, and light the fire. "We will bake first," said the old +woman; "I have already heated the oven, and kneaded the dough." She +pushed poor Grethel out to the oven from which flames of fire were +already darting. "Creep in," said the witch, "and see if it is +properly heated, so that we can shut the bread in." And when once +Grethel was inside, she intended to shut the oven and let her bake in +it, and then she would eat her, too. But Grethel saw what she had in +her mind, and said, "I do not know how I am to do it; how do you get +in?" "Silly goose," said the old woman. "The door is big enough; just +look, I can get in myself!" and she crept up and thrust her head into +the oven. Then Grethel gave her a push that drove her far into it, and +shut the iron door, and fastened the bolt. Oh! then she began to +howl quite horribly, but Grethel ran away, and the godless witch was +miserably burnt to death. + +Grethel, however, ran as quick as lightning to Haensel, opened his +little stable, and cried, "Haensel, we are saved! The old witch is +dead!" Then Haensel sprang out like a bird from its cage when the door +is opened for it. How they did rejoice and embrace each other, and +dance about and kiss each other! And as they had no longer any need to +fear her, they went into the witch's house; and in every corner there +stood chests full of pearls and jewels. "These are far better than +pebbles!" said Haensel, and thrust into his pockets whatever could be +got in; and Grethel said, "I, too, will take something home with me," +and filled her pinafore full. "But now we will go away," said Haensel, +"that we may get out of the witch's forest." + +When they had walked for two hours, they came to a great piece of +water. "We cannot get over," said Haensel, "I see no foot-plank, and +no bridge." "And no boat crosses either," answered Grethel, "but a +white duck is swimming there; if I ask her, she will help us over." +Then she cried-- + + "Little duck, little duck, dost thou see, + Haensel and Grethel are waiting for thee? + There's never a plank, or bridge in sight, + Take us across on thy back so white." + +The duck came to them, and Haensel seated himself on its back, and +told his sister to sit by him. "No," replied Grethel, "that will be +too heavy for the little duck; she shall take us across, one after the +other." The good little duck did so, and when they were once safely +across and had walked for a short time, the forest seemed to be more +and more familiar to them, and at length they saw from afar their +father's house. Then they began to run, rushed into the parlor, and +threw themselves into their father's arms. The man had not known one +happy hour since he had left the children in the forest; the woman, +however, was dead. Grethel emptied her pinafore until pearls and +precious stones ran about the room, and Haensel threw one handful +after another out of his pocket to add to them. Then all anxiety was +at an end, and they lived together in perfect happiness. My tale is +done. There runs a mouse; whosoever catches it may make himself a big +fur cap out of it. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE FISHERMAN AND HIS WIFE + + +There was once on a time a Fisherman who lived with his wife in a +miserable hovel close by the sea, and every day he went out fishing. +And once as he was sitting with his rod, looking at the clear water, +his line suddenly went down, far down below, and when he drew it up +again he brought out a large Flounder. Then the Flounder said to +him, "Hark, you Fisherman, I pray you, let me live; I am no Flounder +really, but an enchanted prince. What good will it do you to kill me? +I should not be good to eat; put me in the water again, and let me +go." "Come," said the Fisherman, "there is no need for so many words +about it--a fish that can talk I should certainly let go, anyhow." +With that he put him back again into the clear water, and the Flounder +went to the bottom, leaving a long streak of blood behind him. +Then the Fisherman got up and went home to his wife in the hovel. +"Husband," said the woman, "have you caught nothing today?" "No," said +the man; "I did catch a Flounder, who said he was an enchanted prince, +so I let him go again." "Did you not wish for anything first?" said +the woman. "No," said the man; "what should I wish for?" "Ah," said +the woman, "it is surely hard to have to live always in this dirty +hovel. You might have wished for a small cottage for us. Go back and +call him. Tell him we want to have a small cottage; he will certainly +give us that." "Ah," said the man, "why should I go there again?" +"Why," said the woman, "you did catch him, and you let him go again; +he is sure to do it. Go at once." The man still did not quite like to +go, but did not like to oppose his wife, either, and so went to the +sea. When he got there the sea was all green and yellow, and no longer +smooth, as before; so he stood and said-- + + "Flounder, Flounder, in the sea, + Come, I pray thee, here to me; + For my wife, good Ilsabil, + Wills not as I'd have her will." + +Then the Flounder came swimming to him and said, "Well, what does she +want, then?" "Ah," said the man, "I did catch you, and my wife says I +really ought to have wished for something. She does not like to live +in a wretched hovel any longer; she would like to have a cottage." +"Go, then," said the Flounder, "she has it already." + +When the man went home, his wife was no longer in the hovel, but, +instead of it, there stood a small cottage, and she was sitting on a +bench before the door. Then she took him by the hand and said to him, +"Just come inside, look, now isn't this a great deal better?" So they +went in, and there was a small porch, and a pretty little parlor and +bedroom and a kitchen and pantry, with the best of furniture, and +fitted up with the most beautiful things made of tin and brass, +whatsoever was wanted. And behind the cottage there was a small yard, +with hens and ducks, and a little garden with flowers and fruit. +"Look," said the wife, "is not that nice!" "Yes," said the husband, +"and so we must always think it; now we will live quite contented." +"We will think about that," said the wife. With that they ate +something and went to bed. + +Everything went well for a week or a fortnight, and then the woman +said, "Hark you, husband, this cottage is far too small for us, and +the garden and yard are little; the Flounder might just as well +have given us a larger house. I should like to live in a great stone +castle; go to the Flounder, and tell him to give us a castle." "Ah, +wife," said the man, "the cottage is quite good enough; why should +we live in a castle?" "What!" said the woman; "just go there, the +Flounder can always do that." "No, wife," said the man, "the Flounder +has just given us the cottage; I do not like to go back so soon. +It might make him angry." "Go," said the woman, "he can do it quite +easily, and will be glad to do it; just you go to him." + +The man's heart grew heavy, and he would not go. He said to himself, +"It is not right," and yet he went. And when he came to the sea the +water was quite purple and dark-blue, and gray and thick, and no +longer green and yellow; but it was still quiet. And he stood there +and said-- + + "Flounder, Flounder, in the sea, + Come, I pray thee, here to me; + For my wife, good Ilsabil, + Wills not as I'd have her will." + +"Well, what does she want, then?" said the Flounder. "Alas," said the +man, half scared, "she wants to live in a great stone castle." "Go to +it, then, she is standing before the door," said the Flounder. + +Then the man went away, intending to go home, but when he got there, +he found a great stone palace, and his wife was just standing on the +steps going in, and she took him by the hand and said, "Come in." So +he went in with her, and in the castle was a great hall paved with +marble, and many servants, who flung wide the doors; and the walls +were all bright with beautiful hangings, and in the rooms were +chairs and tables of pure gold, and crystal chandeliers hung from the +ceiling, and all the rooms and bedrooms had carpets, and food and wine +of the very best were standing on all the tables so that they nearly +broke down beneath it. Behind the house, too, there was a great +courtyard, with stables for horses and cows, and the very best of +carriages; there was a magnificent large garden, too, with the most +beautiful flowers and fruit-trees, and a park quite half a mile long, +in which were stags, deer, and hares, and everything that could +be desired. "Come," said the woman, "isn't that beautiful?" "Yes, +indeed," said the man; "now let it be; we will live in this beautiful +castle and be content." "We will consider about that," said the woman, +"and sleep upon it;" thereupon they went to bed. + +Next morning the wife awoke first, and it was just daybreak, and from +her bed she saw the beautiful country lying before her. Her husband +was still stretching himself, so she poked him in the side with her +elbow, and said, "Get up, husband, and just peep out of the window. +Look you, couldn't we be the King over all that land? Go to the +Flounder, we will be the King." "Ah, wife," said the man, "why should +we be King? I do not want to be King." "Well," said the wife, "if you +won't be King, I will; go to the Flounder, for I will be King." "Oh, +wife," said the man, "why do you want to be King? I do not like to +say that to him." "Why not?" asked the woman; "go to him this instant; +I must be King!" So the man went, and was quite unhappy because his +wife wished to be King. "It is not right; it is not right," thought +he. He did not wish to go; but yet he went. + +And when he came to the sea, it was quite dark-gray, and the water +heaved up from below, and smelt putrid. Then he went and stood by it, +and said-- + + "Flounder, Flounder, in the sea, + Come, I pray thee, here to me; + For my wife, good Ilsabil, + Wills not as I'd have her will." + +"Well, what does she want, then?" asked the Flounder. "Alas," said the +man, "she wants to be King." "Go to her; she is King already." + +So the man went, and when he came to the palace, the castle had become +much larger, and had a great tower and magnificent ornaments, and +the sentinel was standing before the door, and there were numbers of +soldiers with kettle-drums and trumpets. And when he went inside the +house, everything was of real marble and gold, with velvet covers +and great golden tassels. Then the doors of the hall were opened, and +there was the court in all its splendor, and his wife was sitting on +a high throne of gold and diamonds, with a great crown of gold on her +head, and a sceptre of pure gold and jewels in her hand, and on both +sides of her stood her maids-in-waiting in a row, each of them always +one head shorter than the last. + +Then he went and stood before her, and said, "Ah, wife, and now you +are King!" "Yes," said the woman, "now I am King." So he stood and +looked at her, and when he had looked at her thus for a time he said, +"And now that you are King, let all else be; now we will wish for +nothing more." "Nay, husband," said the woman, quite anxiously, +"I find time pass very heavily; I can bear it no longer; go to the +Flounder. I am King, but I must be Emperor, too." + +"Alas, wife, why do you wish to be Emperor?" "Husband," said she, "go +to the Flounder. I will be Emperor." "Alas, wife," said the man, "he +cannot make you Emperor; I may not say that to the fish. There is only +one Emperor in the land. An Emperor the Flounder cannot make you! I +assure you he cannot." + +"What!" said the woman, "I am the King, and you are nothing but my +husband; will you go this moment? Go at once! If he can make a king +he can make an emperor. I will be Emperor; go instantly." So he was +forced to go. As the man went, however, he was troubled in mind, +and thought to himself, "It will not end well; it will not end well! +Emperor is too shameless! The Flounder will at last be tired out." + +With that he reached the sea, and the sea was quite black and thick, +and began to boil up from below, so that it threw up bubbles, and such +a sharp wind blew over it that it curdled, and the man was afraid. +Then he went and stood by it, and said-- + + "Flounder, Flounder, in the sea, + Come, I pray thee, here to me; + For my wife, good Ilsabil, + Wills not as I'd have her will." + +"Well, what does she want, then?" asked the Flounder. "Alas, +Flounder," said he, "my wife wants to be Emperor." "Go to her," said +the Flounder; "she is Emperor already." + +So the man went, and when he got there the whole palace was made +of polished marble with alabaster figures and golden ornaments, and +soldiers were marching before the door blowing trumpets, and beating +cymbals and drums; and in the house, barons, and counts, and dukes +were going about as servants. Then they opened the doors to him, +which were of pure gold. And when he entered, there sat his wife on a +throne, which was made of one piece of gold, and was quite two miles +high; and she wore a great golden crown that was three yards high, and +set with diamonds and carbuncles, and in one hand she had the sceptre, +and in the other the imperial orb; and on both sides of her stood +the yeomen of the guard in two rows, each being smaller than the one +before him, from the biggest giant, who was two miles high, to the +very smallest dwarf, just as big as my little finger. And before it +stood a number of princes and dukes. + +Then the man went and stood among them, and said, "Wife, are you +Emperor now?" "Yes," said she, "now I am Emperor." Then he stood and +looked at her well; and when he had looked at her thus for some time, +be said, "Ah, wife, be content, now that you are Emperor." "Husband," +said she, "why are you standing there? Now, I am Emperor, but I will +be Pope too; go to the Flounder." + +"Alas, wife," said the man, "what will you not wish for? You cannot +be Pope; there is but one in Christendom; he cannot make you Pope." +"Husband," said she, "I will be Pope; go immediately, I must be Pope +this very day." "No, wife," said the man, "I do not like to say that +to him; that would not do; it is too much; the Flounder can't make you +Pope." "Husband," said she, "what nonsense! If he can make an emperor +he can make a pope. Go to him directly. I am Emperor and you are +nothing but my husband; will you go at once?" + +Then he was afraid, and went; but he was quite faint, and shivered and +shook, and his knees and legs trembled. And a high wind blew over the +land, and the clouds flew, and toward evening all grew dark, and the +leaves fell from the trees, and the water rose and roared as if it +were boiling, and splashed upon the shore; and in the distance he saw +ships which were firing guns in their sore need, pitching and tossing +on the waves. And yet in the midst of the sky there was still a small +bit of blue, though on every side it was as red as in a heavy storm. +So, full of despair, he went and stood in much fear and said-- + + "Flounder, Flounder, in the sea, + Come, I pray thee, here to me; + For my wife, good Ilsabil, + Wills not as I'd have her will." + +"Well, what does she want, then?" asked the Flounder. "Alas," said the +man, "she wants to be Pope." "Go to her then," said the Flounder; "she +is Pope already." + +So he went, and when he got there, he saw what seemed to be a large +church surrounded by palaces. Inside, however, everything was lighted +up with thousands and thousands of candles, and his wife was clad in +gold, and she was sitting on a much higher throne, and had three great +golden crowns on, and around about her there was much ecclesiastical +splendor; and on both sides of her was a row of candles the largest of +which was as tall as the very tallest tower, down to the very smallest +kitchen candle, and all the emperors and kings were on their knees +before her, kissing her shoe. He pushed his way through the crowd. +"Wife," said the man, and looked attentively at her, "are you now +Pope?" "Yes," said she, "I am Pope." So he stood and looked at her, +and it was just as if he was looking at the bright sun. When he had +stood looking at her thus for a short time, he said, "Ah, wife, if you +are Pope, do let well alone!" But she looked as stiff as a post, and +did not move or show any signs of life. Then said he, "Wife, now that +you are Pope, be satisfied; you cannot become anything greater now." +"I will consider about that," said the woman. Thereupon they both +went to bed, but she was not satisfied, and greediness let her have no +sleep, for she was continually thinking what there was left for her to +be. + +The man slept well and soundly, for he had run about a great deal +during the day; but the woman could not fall asleep at all, and flung +herself from one side to the other the whole night through, thinking +always what more was left for her to be, but unable to call to mind +anything else. At length the sun began to rise, and when the woman saw +the red of dawn, she sat up in bed and looked at it. And when, through +the window, she saw the sun thus rising, she said, "Cannot I, too, +order the sun and moon to rise?" "Husband," said she, poking him in +the ribs with her elbow, "wake up! go to the Flounder, for I wish +to be even as God is." The man was still half asleep, but he was +so horrified that he fell out of bed. He thought he must have heard +amiss, and rubbed his eyes, and said, "Alas, wife, what are you +saying?" "Husband," said she, "if I can't order the sun and moon to +rise, and have to look on and see the sun and moon rising, I can't +bear it. I shall not know what it is to have another happy hour, +unless I can make them rise myself." + +Then she looked at him so terribly that a shudder ran over him, and +said, "Go at once; I wish to be like unto God." "Alas, wife," said the +man, falling on his knees before her, "the Flounder cannot do that; he +can make an emperor and a pope; I beseech you, go on as you are, and +be Pope." Then she fell into a rage, and her hair flew wildly about +her head, and she cried, "I will not endure this, I'll not bear it any +longer; wilt thou go?" Then he put on his trousers and ran away like a +madman. But outside a great storm was raging and blowing so hard that +he could scarcely keep his feet; houses and trees toppled over, the +mountains trembled, rocks rolled into the sea, the sky was pitch +black, and it thundered and lightened, and the sea came in with black +waves as high as church-towers and mountains, and all with crests +of white foam at the top. Then he cried, but could not hear his own +words-- + + "Flounder, Flounder, in the sea, + Come, I pray thee, here to me; + For my wife, good Ilsabil, + Wills not as I'd have her will" + +"Well, what does she want, then?" asked the Flounder. "Alas," said +he, "she wants to be like unto God." "Go to her, and you will find +her back again in the dirty hovel." And there they are living still at +this very time. + + + + +_ERNST MORITZ ARNDT_ + + * * * * * + + + SONG OF THE FATHERLAND[9] (1813) + + + God, who gave iron, purposed ne'er + That man should be a slave; + Therefore the sabre, sword, and spear + In his right hand He gave. + Therefore He gave him fiery mood, + Fierce speech, and free-born breath, + That he might fearlessly the feud + Maintain through blood and death. + + Therefore will we what God did say, + With honest truth, maintain-- + And ne'er a fellow-creature slay, + A tyrant's pay to gain! + But he shall perish by stroke of brand + Who fighteth for sin and shame, + And not inherit the German land + With men of the German name. + + O Germany! bright Fatherland! + O German love so true! + Thou sacred land--thou beauteous land-- + We swear to thee anew! + Outlawed, each knave and coward shall + The crow and raven feed; + But we will to the battle all-- + Revenge shall be our meed. + + Flash forth, flash forth, whatever can, + To bright and flaming life! + Now, all ye Germans, man for man, + Forth to the holy strife! + Your hands lift upward to the sky-- + Your hearts shall upward soar-- + And man for man let each one cry, + Our slavery is o'er! + + Let sound, let sound, whatever can + Trumpet and fife and drum! + This day our sabres, man for man, + To stain with blood, we come; + With hangman's and with coward's blood, + O glorious day of ire + That to all Germans soundeth good!-- + Day of our great desire! + + Let wave, let wave, whatever can-- + Standard and banner wave! + Here will we purpose, man for man, + To grace a hero's grave. + Advance, ye brave ranks, hardily-- + Your banners wave on high; + We'll gain us freedom's victory, + Or freedom's death we'll die! + +[Illustration: ERNST MORITZ ARNDT Julius Röting] + + + * * * * * + + + UNION SONG[10] (1814) + + + This blessed hour we are united, + Of German men a mighty choir, + And from the lips of each, delighted, + Our praying souls to heaven aspire; + With high and sacred awe abounding + We join in solemn thoughts today, + And so our hearts should be resounding + In clear harmonic song and play. + + To whom shall foremost thanks be given? + To God, the great, so long concealed, + Who, when the cloud of shame was riven, + Himself in flames to us revealed, + Who, stubborn foes with lightning felling, + Restored to us our strength of yore, + Who, on the stars in power dwelling, + Reigns ever and forevermore. + + Who should our second wish be hearing? + The majesty of Fatherland-- + Destroyed be those who still are sneering! + Hail them who with it fall and stand! + By virtue winning admiration, + Beloved for honesty and might, + Long live through centuries our nation + As strong in honor and in might! + + The third is German manhood's treasure-- + Ring out it shall, with clearness mete! + For Freedom is the German pleasure, + And Germans step to Freedom's beat. + Be life and death by her inspirèd-- + Of German hearts, oh, longing bright! + And death for Freedom's sake desirèd + Is German honor and delight. + + The fourth--for noble consecration + Now lift on high both heart and hand! + Old loyalty within our nation + And German faith forever stand!-- + These virtues shall, our weal assuring, + Remain our union's shield and stay; + Our manly word will be enduring + Until the world shall pass away. + + Now let the final chord be ringing + In jubilee--stand not apart! + Let sound our mighty, joyful singing + From lip to lip, from heart to heart! + The weal from which no devils bar us, + The word that doth our league infold-- + The bliss which tyrants cannot mar us + We must believe in, we must hold! + + + + +_THEODOR KÖRNER_ + + * * * * * + + MEN AND KNAVES[11] (1813) + + + The storm is out; the land is roused; + Where is the coward who sits well-housed? + Fie, on thee, boy, disguised in curls, + Behind the stove, 'mong gluttons and girls! + A graceless, worthless wight thou must be; + No German maid desires thee, + No German song inspires thee, + No German Rhine-wine fires thee. + Forth in the van, + Man by man, + Swing the battle-sword who can! + + When we stand watching, the livelong night, + Through piping storms, till morning light, + Thou to thy downy bed canst creep, + And there in dreams of rapture sleep. + + _Chorus_. + + When, hoarse and shrill, the trumpet's blast, + Like the thunder of God, makes our hearts beat fast, + Thou in the theatre lov'st to appear, + Where trills and quavers tickle the ear. + + _Chorus_. + + When the glare of noonday scorches the brain, + When our parched lips seek water in vain, + Thou canst make the champagne corks fly, + At the groaning tables of luxury. + + _Chorus_. + + When we, as we rush to the strangling fight, + Send home to our true loves a long "Good night," + Thou canst hie thee where love is sold, + And buy thy pleasure with paltry gold. + + _Chorus_. + + When lance and bullet come whistling by, + And death in a thousand shapes draws nigh, + Thou canst sit at thy cards, and kill + King, queen, and knave, with thy spadille. + + _Chorus_. + + If on the red field our bell should toll, + Then welcome be death to the patriot's soul. + Thy pampered flesh shall quake at its doom, + And crawl in silk to a hopeless tomb. + A pitiful exit thine shall be; + No German maid shall weep for thee, + No German song shall they sing for thee, + No German goblets shall ring for thee. + Forth in the van, + Man for man, + Swing the battle-sword who can! + + * * * * * + + LÜTZOW'S WILD BAND[12] (1813) + + + What gleams through the woods in the morning sun? + Hear it nearer and nearer draw! + It winds in and out in columns dun, + And the trumpet-notes on the roused winds run, + And they startle the soul with awe. + Should you of the comrades black demand-- + That is Lützow's wild and untamed band. + + What passes swift through the darksome glade, + And roves o'er the mountains all? + It crouches in nightly ambuscade; + The hurrah breaks round the foe dismayed, + And the Frankish sergeants fall. + Should you of the rangers black demand-- + That is Lützow's wild and audacious band. + + Where the vineyards flourish, there roars the Rhine; + There the tyrant thought him secure; + Then by thunder-crash and lightning-shine + In the waters plunges the fighting line; + Of the hostile bank makes sure. + Should you of the swimmers black demand-- + That is Lützow's wild and foolhardy band. + + There down in the valley what clamorous fight! + What clangor of bloody swords! + Fierce-hearted horsemen wage the fight, + And the spark of freedom's at last alight, + Flaming red the heavens towards. + Should you of the horsemen black demand-- + That is Lützow's wild and intrepid band. + + Who with death-rattle there bid the day farewell + 'Mid the moans of prostrate foes? + Of the hand of death the drawn features tell, + Yet the dauntless hearts triumphant swell, + For his Fatherland's safe each knows! + Should you of the black-clad fallen demand-- + That is Lützow's wild and invincible band. + + The wild, fierce band and the Teuton band, + For all tyrants' blood athirst!-- + So you who would mourn us, be not unmanned; + For the morning dawns, and we freed our land, + Though to free it we won death first! + Then tell, at your grandsons' rapt demand: + That was Lützow's wild and unconquered band! + +[Illustration: THEODOR KÖRNER] + + * * * * * + + PRAYER DURING BATTLE[13](1813) + + + Father, I call to thee. + The roaring artillery's clouds thicken round me, + The hiss and the glare of the loud bolts confound me. + Ruler of battles, I call on thee + O Father, lead thou me! + + O Father, lead thou me; + To victory, to death, dread Commander, O guide me; + The dark valley brightens when thou art beside me; + Lord, as thou wilt, so lead thou me. + God, I acknowledge thee. + + God, I acknowledge thee; + When the breeze through the dry leaves of autumn is moaning, + When the thunder-storm of battle is groaning, + Fount of mercy, in each I acknowledge thee. + O Father, bless thou me! + + O Father, bless thou me; + I trust in thy mercy, whate'er may befall me; + 'Tis thy word that hath sent me; that word can recall me. + Living or dying, O bless thou me! + Father, I honor thee. + + Father, I honor thee; + Not for earth's hoards or honors we here are contending; + All that is holy our swords are defending; + Then falling, and conquering, I honor thee. + God, I repose in thee. + + God, I repose in thee; + When the thunders of death my soul are greeting, + When the gashed veins bleed, and the life is fleeting, + In thee, my God, I repose in thee. + Father, I call on thee. + + + + +_MAXIMILIAN GOTTFRIED VON SCHENKENDORF_ + + * * * * * + + THE MOTHER TONGUE[14] (1814) + + + Mother tongue, oh, tongue most dear, + Sweet and gladsome to mine ear! + Word that first I heard, endearing + Word of love, first timid sound + That I stammered--still I'm hearing + Thee within my soul profound. + + Oh, my heart will ever grieve + When my Fatherland I leave, + For in foreign tongues repeating + Words of strangers, I lose cheer. + Oh, they seem not like a greeting, + And I'll never hold them dear. + + Speech so wonderful to hear-- + How thou ringest pure and clear! + Though thy beauty hath enthralled me, + Still I'll deepen my delight, + Awed, as if my fathers called me + From the grave's eternal night. + + Ring on ever, tongue of old, + Tongue of lovers, heroes bold! + Rise, old song, though lost for ages, + From thy secret tomb, and go + Live again in sacred pages, + Set all hearts once more aglow. + + Breath of God is everywhere, + Custom sacred here as there. + Yet when I give thanks, am praying, + A beloved heart would seek, + When my highest thoughts I'm saying-- + Then my mother tongue I speak. + + +[Illustration: MAXIMILIAN GOTTFRIED VON SCHENKENDORF] + + * * * * * + + SPRING GREETING TO THE FATHERLAND[15] (1814) + + + Fatherland, thy pleasures greet me + After bondage, war's distress! + I must steep my soul completely + Here in all thy gorgeousness. + Where the oak-trees murmur mildly + With their crowns to heaven raised, + Mighty streams are roaring wildly-- + There the German land be praised. + + From the Rhinefall, all delighted, + I have walked, from Danube's spring; + Mildly, in my soul benighted + Love-stars rose, illumining; + Now I would descend, and brightly + Radiate a joyous shine + Into Neckar's valleys sprightly, + O'er the blue and silver Main. + + Onward fly, my message, bringing + Freedom's greeting evermore, + Far away thou shalt be ringing + By my home on Memel's shore. + Where the German tongue is spoken, + Hearts have fought to make her free-- + Fought right gladly--there unbroken + Stays our sacred Germany. + + All with sunlight seems a-blazing, + All things seem adorned with green-- + Pastures where the herds are grazing, + Hills where ripening grapes are seen. + Such a spring time has not graced thee, + Fatherland, for thousand years; + Glory of thy fathers faced thee + Once in dreams, and now appears. + + Once more weapons must be wielded; + Go, a spirit-fray begin, + Till the latest foe has yielded-- + He who threatens you within. + Passions vile ye should be blighting, + Hate, suspicion, envy, greed-- + Then take, after heavy fighting, + German hearts, the rest ye need. + + Then shall all men be possessing + Honor, humbleness, and might, + And thus only can the blessing + Sent our monarch shine with right. + All the ancient sins must perish-- + In the God-sent deluge all, + And the heritage we cherish + To a worthy heir must fall. + + God has blessed the grain that's growing + And the vineyard's fruit no less; + Men with hunter's joy are glowing; + In the homes reigns happiness. + And our freedom's sure foundation, + Pious longing, fills the breast; + Love that charms in every nation + In our German land is best. + + Ye that are in castles dwelling, + Or in towns that grace our soil, + Farmers that in harvests swelling + Reap the fruits of German toil-- + German brothers dear, united, + Mark my words both old and new! + That our land may stay unblighted, + Keep this concord, and be true! + + * * * * * + + FREEDOM[16] (1815) + + + Freedom that I love, + Shining in my heart, + Come now from above, + Angel that thou art. + + Wilt thou ne'er appear + To the world oppressed? + With thy grace and cheer + Only stars are blessed? + + In the forest gay + When the trees are green, + 'Neath the blooming spray, + Freedom, thou art seen. + + Oh, what dear delight! + Music fills the air, + And thy secret might + Thrills us everywhere, + + When the rustling boughs + Friendly greetings send, + When we lovers' vows + Looks and kisses spend. + + But the heart aspires + Upward evermore, + And our high desires + Ever sky-ward soar. + + From his simple kind + Comes my rustic child, + Shows his heart and mind + To the world beguiled; + + For him gardens bloom, + For him fields have grown, + Even in, the gloom + Of a world of stone. + + Where in that man's breast + Glows a God-sent flame + Who with loyal zest + Loves the ancient name, + + Where the men unite + Valiantly to face + Foes of honor's right-- + There dwells freedom's race. + + Ramparts, brazen doors + Still may bar the light, + Yet the spirit soars + Into regions bright; + + For the fathers' grave, + For the church to fall, + And for dear ones--brave, + True at freedom's call-- + + That indeed is light, + Glowing rosy-red; + Heroes' cheeks grow bright + And more fair when dead. + + Down to us, oh, guide + Heaven's grace, we pray! + In our hearts reside-- + German hearts--to stay! + + Freedom sweet and fair, + Trusting, void of fear, + German nature e'er + Was to thee most clear. + + + + +_LUDWIG UHLAND_ + + * * * * * + + THE CHAPEL[17] (1805) + + + Yonder chapel, on the mountain, + Looks upon a vale of joy; + There, below, by moss and fountain, + Gaily sings the herdsman's boy. + + Hark! Upon the breeze descending, + Sound of dirge and funeral bell; + And the boy, his song suspending, + Listens, gazing from the dell. + + Homeward to the grave they're bringing + Forms that graced the peaceful vale; + Youthful herdsman, gaily singing! + Thus they'll chant thy funeral wail. + + * * * * * + + THE SHEPHERD'S SONG ON THE LORD'S DAY[18] (1805) + + + The Lord's own day is here! + Alone I kneel on this broad plain; + A matin bell just sounds; again + 'Tis silence, far and near. + + Here kneel I on the sod; + O deep amazement, strangely felt! + As though, unseen, vast numbers knelt + And prayed with me to God! + + Yon heav'n afar and near-- + So bright, so glorious seems its cope + As though e'en now its gates would ope-- + The Lord's own day is here! + +[Illustration: LUDWIG UHLAND] + + * * * * * + + THE CASTLE BY THE SEA[19] (1805) + + + Hast thou seen that lordly castle, + That castle by the sea? + Golden and red above it + The clouds float gorgeously. + + And fain it would stoop downward + To the mirrored lake below; + And fain it would soar upward + In the evening's crimson glow. + + Well have I seen that castle, + That castle by the sea, + And the moon above it standing, + And the mist rise solemnly. + + The winds and the waves of ocean-- + Had they a merry chime? + Didst thou hear, from those lofty chambers, + The harp and the minstrel's rhyme? + + The winds and the waves of ocean, + They rested quietly; + But I heard in the gale a sound of wail, + And tears came to mine eye. + + And sawest thou on the turrets + The king and his royal bride, + And the wave of their crimson mantles, + And the golden crown of pride? + + Led they not forth, in rapture, + A beauteous maiden there, + Resplendent as the morning sun, + Beaming with golden hair! + + Well saw I the ancient parents, + Without the crown of pride; + They were moving slow, in weeds of woe-- + No maiden was by their side! + + * * * * * + + SONG OF THE MOUNTAIN BOY[20] (1806) + + + The mountain shepherd-boy am I; + The castles all below me spy. + The sun sends me his earliest beam, + Leaves me his latest, lingering gleam. + I am the boy of the mountain! + + The mountain torrent's home is here, + Fresh from the rock I drink it clear; + As out it leaps with furious force, + I stretch my arms and stop its course. + I am the boy of the mountain! + + I claim the mountain for my own; + In vain the winds around me moan; + From north to south let tempests brawl-- + My song shall swell above them all. + I am the boy of the mountain! + + Thunder and lightning below me lie, + Yet here I stand in upper sky; + I know them well, and cry, "Harm not + My father's lowly, peaceful cot." + I am the boy of the mountain! + + But when I hear the alarm-bell sound, + When watch-fires gleam from the mountains round, + Then down I go and march along, + And swing my sword, and sing my song. + I am the boy of the mountain! + +[Illustration: THE VILLA BY THE SEA From the Painting by Arnold Böcklin] + + * * * * * + + DEPARTURE[21] (1806) + + + What jingles and carols along the street! + Fling open your casements, damsels sweet! + The prentice' friends, they are bearing + The boy on his far wayfaring. + + 'Mid fluttering ribbons and tossing caps, + Full merry the rabble huzzas and claps; + But the boy regards not the token-- + He walks like one heartbroken. + + Full clear clinks the wine-can, full red gleams the wine + "Drink deep and drink deeper, dear brother mine!" + "Oh, have done with the red wine of parting + That burns me within with its smarting!" + + And outside from the cottage, last of all, + A maiden peeps out and her tear-drops fall, + Yet her tear-drops to none she discloses + But forget-me-nots and roses. + + And outside by the cottage, last of all, + The boy glances up at a casement small, + And glances down without greeting. + 'Neath his hand his heart is beating. + + "What, brother! Art lacking a bright nosegay? + See yonder--the beckoning, blossomy spray! + God save thee, thou prettiest sweeting! + Drop down now a nosegay for greeting!" + + "Nay, brothers, pass yonder casement by. + No prettiest sweeting like her have I. + In the sun those blossoms would wither; + The wind it would blow them thither." + + So farther and farther with shout and song! + And the maiden listens and harkens long + "Ah, me! he is flown now beyond me-- + The boy I have loved so fondly! + + And here I stay, with my lonely lot, + With roses, ah!--and forget-me-not, + And he whose heart I'd be sharing-- + He is gone on his far wayfaring!" + + * * * * * + + FAREWELL[22] (1807) + + + Farewell, farewell! From thee + Today, love, must I sever. + One kiss, one kiss give me, + Ere I quit thee forever! + + One blossom from yon tree + O give to me, I pray! + No fruit, no fruit for me! + So long I may not stay. + + +[Illustration: LEAVING AT DAWN] + + * * * * * + + THE HOSTESS' DAUGHTER[23] (1809) + + + Three students had cross'd o'er the Rhine's dark tide; + At the door of a hostel they turned aside. + + "Hast thou, Dame hostess, good ale and wine + And where is thy daughter, so sweet and fine?" + + "My ale and wine are cool and clear; + On her death-bed lieth my daughter dear." + + And when to the chamber they made their way, + In a sable coffin the damsel lay. + + The first--the veil from her face he took, + And gazed upon her with mournful look: + + "Alas! fair maiden--didst thou still live, + To thee my love would I henceforth give!" + + The second--he lightly replaced the shroud, + Then round he turned him, and wept aloud: + + "Thou liest, alas I on thy death-bed here; + I loved thee fondly for many a year!" + + The third--he lifted again the veil, + And gently he kissed those lips so pale: + + "I love thee now, as I loved of yore, + And thus will I love thee forevermore!" + + * * * * * + + THE GOOD COMRADE[24] (1809) + + + I had a gallant comrade, + No better e'er was tried; + The drum beat loud to battle-- + Beside me, to its rattle, + He marched, with equal stride. + + A bullet flies toward us us-- + "Is that for me or thee?" + It struck him, passing o'er me; + I see his corpse before me + As 'twere a part of me! + + And still, while I am loading, + His outstretched hand I view; + "Not now--awhile we sever; + But, when we live forever, + Be still my comrade true!" + + * * * * * + + THE WHITE HART[25] (1811) + + + Three huntsmen forth to the greenwood went; + To hunt the white hart was their intent. + + They laid them under a green fir-tree, + And a singular vision befell those three. + + THE FIRST HUNTSMAN + + I dreamt I arose and beat on the bush, + When forth came rushing the stag--hush, hush! + + THE SECOND + + As with baying of hound he came rushing along, + I fired my gun at his hide--bing, bang! + + THE THIRD + + And when the stag on the ground I saw, + I merrily wound my horn--trara! + + Conversing thus did the huntsmen lie, + When lo! the white hart came bounding by; + + And before the huntsmen had noted him well, + He was up and away over mountain and dell!-- + Hush, hush!--bing, bang!--trara! + + * * * * * + + THE LOST CHURCH[26] (1812) + + + When one into the forest goes, + A music sweet the spirit blesses; + But whence it cometh no one knows, + Nor common rumor even guesses. + From the lost Church those strains must swell + That come on all the winds resounding; + The path to it now none can tell, + That path with pilgrims once abounding. + + As lately, in the forest, where + No beaten path could be discover'd, + All lost in thought, I wander'd far, + Upward to God my spirit hover'd. + When all was silent round me there, + Then in my ears that music sounded; + The higher, purer, rose my prayer, + The nearer, fuller, it resounded. + + Upon my heart such peace there fell, + Those strains with all my thoughts so blended, + That how it was I cannot tell + That I so high that hour ascended. + It seem'd a hundred years and more + That I had been thus lost in dreaming, + When, all earth's vapors op'ning o'er, + A free large place stood, brightly beaming. + + The sky it was so blue and bland, + The sun it was so full and glowing, + As rose a minster vast and grand, + The golden light all round it flowing. + The clouds on which it rested seem'd + To bear it up like wings of fire; + Piercing the heavens, so I dream'd, + Sublimely rose its lofty spire. + + The bell--what music from it roll'd! + Shook, as it peal'd, the trembling tower; + Rung by no mortal hand, but toll'd + By some unseen, unearthly power. + The selfsame power from Heaven thrill'd + My being to its utmost centre, + As, all with fear and gladness fill'd, + Beneath the lofty dome I enter. + + I stood within the solemn pile-- + Words cannot tell with what amazement, + As saints and martyrs seem'd to smile + Down on me from each gorgeous casement. + I saw the picture grow alive, + And I beheld a world of glory, + Where sainted men and women strive + And act again their godlike story. + + Before the altar knelt I low-- + Love and devotion only feeling, + While Heaven's glory seem'd to glow, + Depicted on the lofty ceiling. + Yet when again I upward gazed, + The mighty dome in twain was shaken, + And Heaven's gate wide open blazed, + And every veil away was taken. + + What majesty I then beheld, + My heart with adoration swelling; + What music all my senses fill'd, + Beyond the organ's power of telling, + In words can never be exprest; + Yet for that bliss who longs sincerely, + O let him to the music list, + That in the forest soundeth clearly! + + * * * * * + + CHARLEMAGNE'S VOYAGE[27] (1812) + + + With comrades twelve upon the main + King Charles set out to sail. + The Holy Land he hoped to gain, + But drifted in a gale. + + Then spake Sir Roland, hero brave: + "Well I can fight and shield; + Yet neither stormy wind nor wave + Will to my weapon yield." + + Sir Holger spoke, from Denmark's strand: + "The harp I feign would play; + But what avails the music bland + When tempests roaring sway!" + + Sir Oliver was not too glad; + Upon his sword he'd stare: + "For my own weal 'twere not so bad, + I grieve, for good Old Clare." + + Said wicked Ganilon with gall + (He said it 'neath his breath): + "The devil come and take ye all-- + Were I but spared this death!" + + Archbishop Turpin deeply sighed: + "The knights of God are we. + O come, our Savior, be our guide, + And lead us o'er the sea!" + + Then spake Sir Richard Fearless stern: + "Ye demons there in hell, + I served ye many a goodly turn, + Now serve ye me as well!" + + "My counsel often has been heard," + Sir Naimes did remark. + "Fresh water, though, and helpful word + Are rare upon a bark." + + Then spake Sir Riol, old and gray: + "An aged knight am I; + And they shall lay my corpse away + Where it is good and dry." + + And then Sir Guy began to sing-- + He was a courtly knight: + "Feign would I have a birdie's wing, + And to my love take flight!" + + Then Count Garein, the noble, said: + "God, danger from us keep! + I'd rather drink the wine so red + Than water in the deep." + + Sir Lambert spake, a sprightly youth: + "May God behold our state! + I'd rather eat good fish, forsooth, + Than be myself a bait." + + Then quoth Sir Gottfried: "Be it so, + I heed not how I fare; + Whatever I must undergo, + My brothers all would share." + + But at the helm King Charles sat by, + And never said a word, + And steered the ship with steadfast eye + Till no more tempest stirred. + + * * * * * + + FREE ART[28] (1812) + + Thou, whom song was given, sing + In the German poets' wood! + When all boughs with music ring-- + Then is life and pleasure good. + + Nay, this art doth not belong + To a small and haughty band; + Scattered are the seeds of song + All about the German land. + + Music set thy passions free + From the heart's confining cage; + Let thy love like murmurs be, + And like thunder-storm thy rage! + + Singest thou not all thy days, + Joy of youth should make thee sing. + Nightingales pour forth their lays + In the blooming months of spring! + + Though in books they hold not fast + What the hour to thee imparts, + Leaves unto the breezes cast, + To be seized by youthful hearts! + + Fare thou well, thou secret lore: + Necromancy, Alchemy! + Formulas shall bind no more, + And our art is poesy. + + Names we deem but empty air; + Spirits we revere alone; + Though we honor masters rare. + Art is free--it is our own! + + Not in haunts of marble chill, + Temples drear where ancients trod-- + Nay, in oaks on woody hill, + Lives and moves the German God. + + * * * * * + + TAILLEFER[29] (1812) + + + Duke William of the Normans spoke unto his servants all: + "Who is it sings so sweetly in the court and in the hall? + Who sings from early morn till the house is still at night + So sweetly that he fills my heart with laughter and delight?" + + "'Tis Taillefer," they answered him, "so joyously that sings + Within the courtyard, as the wheel above the well he swings, + And when the fire upon the hearth he stirs to burn more bright, + And when he rises to his toil or lays him down at night." + + Then spoke the Duke, "In him I trow I have a faithful knave-- + This Taillefer that serves me here, so loyal and so brave; + He turns the wheel and stirs the fire with willing, sturdy arm, + And, best of all, with blithesome song he knows my heart to charm." + + Then out spake lusty Taillefer, "Ah, lord, if I were free, + Far better would I serve thee then, and gladly sing to thee. + How on my stately charger would I serve thee in the field, + How sing before thee cheerily, with clang of sword and shield!" + + The days went by, and Taillefer rode out as rides a knight + Upon a prancing charger borne, a gay and gallant sight; + And from the tower looked down on him Duke William's sister fair, + And softly murmured, "By my troth, a stately knight goes there!" + + When as he rode before the tower, and spied her harkening, + Now sang he like a driving storm, now like a breeze of spring; + She cried, "To hear that wondrous song is of all joys the best-- + The very stones they tremble, and the heart within my breast." + + And now the Duke has called his men and crossed the salt sea-foam; + With gallant knights and vassals bold to England he has come. + And as he sprang from out the ship, he slipped upon the strand, + And "By this token, thus," he cried, "I seize a subject land!" + + And now on Hastings field arrayed, the host for fight prepare; + Before the Duke reins up his horse the valiant Taillefer: + "If I have sung and blown the fire for many a weary year, + And since for other years have borne the knightly shield and spear, + + "If I have sung and served thee well, and praises won from thee, + First as a lowly knave and then a warrior, bold and free, + Today I claim my guerdon just, that all the host may know-- + To ride the foremost to the field, strike first against the foe!" + + So Taillefer rode on before the glittering Norman line + Upon his stately steed, and waved a sword of temper fine; + Above the embattled plain his song rang all the tumult o'er-- + Of Roland's knightly deeds he sang and many a hero more. + + And as the noble song of old with tempest-might swelled out, + The banners waved and knights pressed on with war-cry and with shout; + And every heart among the host throbbed prouder still and higher, + And still through all sang Taillefer, and blew the battle-fire. + + Then forward, lance in rest, against the waiting foe he dashed, + And at the shock an English knight from out the saddle crashed; + Anon he swung his sword and struck a grim and grisly blow, + And on the ground beneath his feet an English knight lay low. + + The Norman host his prowess saw, and followed him full fain; + With joyful shouts and clang of shields the whole field rang again, + And shrill and fast the arrows sped, and swords made merry play-- + Until at last King Harold fell, his stubborn carles gave way. + + The Duke his banner planted high upon the bloody plain, + And pitched his tent a conqueror amid the heaps of slain; + Then with his captains sat at meat, the wine-cup in his hand, + Upon his head the royal crown of all the English land. + + "Come hither, valiant Taillefer, and drink a cup with me! + Full oft thy song has soothed my grief, made merrier my glee; + But all my life I still shall hear the battle-shout that pealed + Above the noise of clashing arms today on Hastings field!" + + * * * * * + + SUABIAN LEGEND[30] (1814) + + + When Emperor Redbeard with his band + Came marching through the Holy Land, + He had to lead, the way to seek, + His noble force o'er mountains bleak. + Of bread there rose a painful need, + Though stones were plentiful indeed, + And many a German rider fine + Forgot the taste of mead and wine. + The horses drooped from meagre fare, + The rider had to hold his mare. + There was a knight from Suabian land + Of noble build and mighty hand; + His little horse was faint and ill, + He dragged it by the bridle still; + His steed he never would forsake, + Though his own life should be at stake. + And so the horseman had to stay + Behind the band a little way. + Then all at once, right in his course, + Pranced fifty Turkish men on horse. + And straight a swarm of arrows flew; + Their spears as well the riders threw. + Our Suabian brave felt no dismay, + And calmly marched along his way. + His shield was stuck with arrows o'er, + He sneered and looked about--no more; + Till one, whom all this pastime bored, + Above him swung a crooked sword. + The German's blood begins to boil, + He aims the Turkish steed to foil, + And off he knocks with hit so neat + The Turkish charger's two fore-feet. + And now that he has felled the horse, + He grips his sword with double force + And swings it on the rider's crown + And splits him to the saddle down; + He hews the saddle into bits, + And e'en the charger's back he splits. + See, falling to the right and left, + Half of a Turk that has been cleft! + The others shudder at the sight + And hie away in frantic flight, + And each one feels, with gruesome dread, + That he is split through trunk and head. + A band of Christians, left behind, + Came down the road, his work to find; + And they admired, one by one, + The deed our hero bold had done. + From these the Emperor heard it all, + And bade his men the Suabian call, + Then spake: "Who taught thee, honored knight, + With hits like those you dealt, to fight?" + Our hero said, without delay + "These hits are just the Suabian way. + Throughout the realm all men admit, + The Suabians always make a hit." + + * * * * * + + THE BLIND KING[31] (1804, 1814) + + + Why stands uncovered that northern host + High on the seaboard there? + Why seeks the old blind king the coast, + With his white, wild-fluttering hair? + He, leaning on his staff the while, + His bitter grief outpours, + Till across the bay the rocky isle + Sounds from its caverned shores. + + "From the dungeon-rock, thou robber, bring + My daughter back again! + Her gentle voice, her harp's sweet string + Soothed an old father's pain. + From the dance along the green shore + Thou hast borne her o'er the wave; + Eternal shame light on thy head; + Mine trembles o'er the grave." + + Forth from his cavern, at the word, + The robber comes, all steeled, + Swings in the air his giant sword, + And strikes his sounding shield. + "A goodly guard attends thee there; + Why suffered they the wrong? + Is there none will be her champion + Of all that mighty throng?" + + Yet from that host there comes no sound; + They stand unmoved as stone; + The blind king seems to gaze around; + Am I all, all alone?" + "Not all alone!" His youthful son + Grasps his right hand so warm-- + "Grant me to meet this vaunting foe! + Heaven's might inspires my arm." + + "O son! it is a giant foe; + There's none will take thy part; + Yet by this hand's warm grasp, I know + Thine is a manly heart. + Here, take the trusty battle-sword-- + 'Twas the old minstrel's prize;-- + If thou art slain, far down the flood + Thy poor old father dies!" + + And hark! a skiff glides swiftly o'er, + With plashing, spooming sound; + The king stands listening on the shore; + 'Tis silent all around-- + Till soon across the bay is borne + The sound of shield and sword, + And battle-cry, and clash, and clang, + And crashing blows, are heard. + + With trembling joy then cried the king: + "Warrior! what mark you? Tell! + 'Twas my good sword; I heard it ring; + I know its tone right well." + "The robber falls; a bloody meed + His daring crime hath won; + Hail to thee, first of heroes! hail! + Thou monarch's worthy son!" + + Again 'tis silent all around; + Listens the king once more; + "I hear across the bay the sound + As of a plashing oar." + Yes, it is they!--They come!--They come-- + Thy son, with spear and shield, + And thy daughter fair, with golden hair, + The sunny-bright Gunild." + + "Welcome!" exclaims the blind old man, + From the rock high o'er the wave; + "Now my old age is blest again; + Honored shall be my grave. + Thou, son, shalt lay the sword I wore + Beside the blind old king. + And thou, Gunilda, free once more, + My funeral song shalt sing." + + * * * * * + + THE MINSTREL'S CURSE[32] (1814) + + + Once in olden times was standing + A castle, high and grand, + Broad glancing in the sunlight, + Far over sea and land. + And round were fragrant gardens, + A rich and blooming crown; + And fountains, playing in them, + In rainbow brilliance shone. + + There a haughty king was seated, + In lands and conquests great; + Pale and awful was his countenance, + As on his throne he sate; + For what he thinks, is terror, + And what he looks, is wrath, + And what he speaks, is torture, + And what he writes, is death. + And 'gainst a marble pillar + He shiver'd it in twain; + And thus his curse he shouted, + Till the castle rang again: + + "Woe, woe, thou haughty castle, + With all thy gorgeous halls! + Sweet string or song be sounded + No more within thy walls. + No, sighs alone, and wailing, + And the coward steps of slaves! + Already round thy towers + The avenging spirit raves! + + "Woe, woe, ye fragrant gardens, + With all your fair May light! + Look on this ghastly countenance, + And wither at the sight! + Let all your flowers perish! + Be all your fountains dry! + Henceforth a horrid wilderness, + Deserted, wasted, lie! + + "Woe, woe, thou wretched murderer, + Thou curse of minstrelsy! + Thy struggles for a bloody fame, + All fruitless shall they be. + Thy name shall be forgotten, + Lost in eternal death, + Dissolving into empty air + Like a dying man's last breath!" + + The old man's curse is utter'd, + And Heaven above hath heard. + Those walls have fallen prostrate + At the minstrel's mighty word. + Of all that vanish'd splendor + Stands but one column tall; + And that, already shatter'd, + Ere another night may fall. + + Around, instead of gardens, + In a desert heathen land, + No tree its shade dispenses, + No fountains cool the sand. + The king's name, it has vanish'd; + His deeds no songs rehearse; + Departed and forgotten-- + This is the minstrel's curse. + + * * * * * + + THE LUCK OF EDENHALL[33] (1834) + + + Of Edenhall the youthful lord + Bids sound the festal trumpets' call; + He rises at the banquet board, + And cries, 'mid the drunken revelers all, + "Now bring me the Luck of Edenhall!" + + The butler hears the words with pain-- + The house's oldest seneschal-- + Takes slow from its silken cloth again + The drinking glass of crystal tall; + They call it the Luck of Edenhall. + + Then said the lord, "This glass to praise, + Fill with red wine from Portugal!" + The graybeard with trembling hand obeys; + A purple light shines over all; + It beams from the Luck of Edenhall. + + Then speaks the lord, and waves it light-- + "This glass of flashing crystal tall + Gave to my sires the Fountain-Sprite; + She wrote in it, 'If this glass doth fall, + Farewell then, O Luck of Edenhall!'" + + "'Twas right a goblet the fate should be + Of the joyous race of Edenhall! + We drink deep draughts right willingly; + And willingly ring, with merry call, + Kling! klang! to the Luck of Edenhall!" + + First rings it deep, and full, and mild, + Like to the song of a nightingale; + Then like the roar of a torrent wild; + Then mutters, at last, like the thunder's fall, + The glorious Luck of Edenhall. + + "For its keeper, takes a race of might + The fragile goblet of crystal tall; + It has lasted longer than is right; + Kling! klang!--with a harder blow than all + We'll try the Luck of Edenhall!" + + As the goblet, ringing, flies apart, + Suddenly cracks the vaulted hall; + And through the rift the flames upstart; + The guests in dust are scattered all + With the breaking Luck of Edenhall! + + In storms the foe with fire and sword! + He in the night had scaled the wall; + Slain by the sword lies the youthful lord, + But holds in his hand the crystal tall, + The shattered Luck of Edenhall. + + On the morrow the butler gropes alone, + The graybeard, in the desert hall; + He seeks his lord's burnt skeleton; + He seeks in the dismal ruin's fall + The shards of the Luck of Edenhall. + + "The stone wall," saith he, "doth fall aside; + Down must the stately columns fall; + Glass is this earth's Luck and Pride; + In atoms shall fall this earthly hall, + One day, like the Luck of Edenhall!" + + * * * * * + + ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD[34] (1859) + + + You came, you went, as angels go, + A fleeting guest within our land. + Whence and where to?--We only know: + Forth from God's hand into God's hand. + + + + +_JOSEPH VON EICHENDORFF_ + + * * * * * + + THE BROKEN RING[35] (1810) + + + Down in yon cool valley + I hear a mill-wheel go: + Alas! my love has left me, + Who once dwelt there below. + + A ring of gold she gave me, + And vowed she would be true; + The vow long since was broken, + The gold ring snapped in two. + + I would I were a minstrel, + To rove the wide world o'er, + And sing afar my measures, + And rove from door to door; + + Or else a soldier, flying + Deep into furious fight, + By silent camp-fires lying + A-field in gloomy night. + + Hear I the mill-wheel going: + I know not what I will; + 'Twere best if I were dying-- + Then all were calm and still. + +[Illustration: JOSEPH VON EICHENDORFF] + + * * * * * + + MORNING PRAYER[36] (1833) + + + O silence, wondrous and profound! + O'er earth doth solitude still reign; + The woods alone incline their heads, + As if the Lord walked o'er the plain. + + I feel new life within me glow; + Where now is my distress and care? + Here in the blush of waking morn, + I blush at yesterday's despair. + + To me, a pilgrim, shall the world, + With all its joy and sorrows, be + But as a bridge that leads, O Lord, + Across the stream of time to Thee. + + And should my song woo worldly gifts, + The base rewards of vanity-- + Dash down my lyre! I'll hold my peace + Before thee to eternity. + + + + +FROM THE LIFE OF A GOOD-FOR-NOTHING (1826) + +BY JOSEPH VON EICHENDORFF TRANSLATED BY MRS. A.L.W. WISTER + +CHAPTER I + + +The wheel of my father's mill was once more turning and whirring +merrily, the melting snow trickled steadily from the roof, the +sparrows chirped and hopped about, as I, taking great delight in the +warm sunshine, sat on the door-step and rubbed my eyes to rid them +of sleep. Then my father made his appearance; he had been busy in the +mill since daybreak, and his nightcap was all awry as he said to me-- + +You Good-for-nothing! There you sit sunning yourself, and stretching +yourself till your bones crack, leaving me to do all the work alone. I +can keep you here no longer. Spring is at hand. Off with you into the +world and earn your own bread!" + +"Well," said I, "all right; if I am a Good-for-nothing, I will go +forth into the world and make my fortune." In fact, I was very glad to +have my father speak thus, for I myself had been thinking of starting +on my travels; the yellow-hammer, which all through the autumn and +winter had been chirping sadly at our window, "Farmer, hire me; +farmer, hire me," was, now that the lovely spring weather had set in, +once more piping cheerily from the old tree, "Farmer, nobody wants +your work." So I went into the house and took down from the wall my +fiddle, on which I could play quite skilfully; my father gave me a +few pieces of money to set me on my way; and I sauntered off along +the village street. I was filled with secret joy as I saw all my old +acquaintances and comrades right and left going to their work digging +and ploughing, just as they had done yesterday and the day before, +and so on, whilst I was roaming out into the wide world. I called +out "Good-by!" to the poor people on all sides, but no one took much +notice of me. A perpetual Sabbath seemed to reign in my soul, and when +I got out among the fields I took out my dear fiddle and played and +sang, as I walked along the country road-- + + "The favored ones, the loved of Heaven, + God sends to roam the world at will; + His wonders to their gaze are given + By field and forest, stream and hill. + + "The dullards who at home are staying + Are not refreshed by morning's ray; + They grovel, earth-born calls obeying, + And petty cares beset their day. + + "The little brooks o'er rocks are springing, + The lark's gay carol fills the air; + Why should not I with them be singing + A joyous anthem free from care? + + "I wander on, in God confiding, + For all are His, wood, field, and fell; + O'er earth and skies He, still presiding, + For me will order all things well." + +As I was looking around, a fine traveling-carriage drove along very +near me; it had probably been just behind me for some time without +my perceiving it, so filled with melody had I been, for it was going +quite slowly, and two elegant ladies had their heads out of the +window, listening. One was especially beautiful, and younger than the +other, but both pleased me extremely. When I stopped singing the elder +ordered the coachman to stop his horses, and accosted me with great +condescension: "Aha, my merry lad, you know how to sing very pretty +songs!" I, nothing loath, replied, "Please Your Grace, I know some +far prettier." "And where are you going so early in the morning?" she +asked. I was ashamed to confess that I did not myself know, and so I +said, boldly, "To Vienna." The two ladies then talked together in a +strange tongue which I did not understand. The younger shook her head +several times, but the other only laughed, and finally called to me, +"Jump up behind; we too are going to Vienna." Who more ready than I! +I made my best bow, and sprang up behind the carriage, the coachman +cracked his whip, and away we bowled along the smooth road so swiftly +that the wind whistled in my ears. + +Behind me vanished my native village with its gardens and +church-tower, before me appeared fresh villages, castles, and +mountains, beneath me on either side the meadows in the tender green +of spring flew past, and above me countless larks were soaring in the +blue air. I was ashamed to shout aloud, but I exulted inwardly, +and shuffled about so on the foot-board behind the carriage that I +well-nigh lost my fiddle from under my arm. But when the sun rose +higher in the sky, while heavy, white, noonday clouds gathered on the +horizon, and the air hung sultry and still above the gently-waving +grain, I could not but remember my village and my father, and our +mill, and how cool and comfortable it was beside the shady mill-pool, +and how far, far away from me it all was. And the most curious +sensation overcame me; I felt as if I must turn and run back; but I +stuck my fiddle between my coat and my vest, settled myself on the +foot-board, and went to sleep. + +When I opened my eyes again, the carriage was standing beneath tall +linden-trees, on the other side of which a broad flight of steps led +between columns into a magnificent castle. Through the trees beyond +I saw the towers of Vienna. The ladies, it appeared, had left the +carriage, and the horses had been unharnessed. I was startled to find +myself alone, and I hurried into the castle. As I did so I heard some +one at a window above laughing. + +An odd time I had in this castle. First, as soon as I found myself in +the cool, spacious vestibule, some one tapped me on the shoulder with +a stick. I turned quickly about, and there stood a tall gentleman in +state apparel, with a broad bandolier of silk and gold crossing his +breast from his shoulder to his hip, a staff in his hand, gilded at +the top, and an extraordinarily large Roman nose; he strutted up to +me, swelling like a ruled-up turkey-cock, and asked me what I wanted +there. I was taken entirely aback, and in my confusion was unable +to utter a word. Several servants passed, going up and down the +staircase; they said nothing, but eyed me superciliously. Then +a lady's-maid appeared; she came up to me, declared that I was a +charming young fellow, and that her mistress had sent to ask me if +I did not want a place as gardener's boy. I put my hand in my +pocket--the few coins I had possessed were gone. They must have been +jerked out by my shuffling on the foot-board behind the carriage. I +had nothing to depend upon save my skill with the fiddle, for which +the gentleman with the staff, as he informed me in passing, would not +give a farthing. Therefore, in my distress, I said "yes" to the maid, +keeping my eyes fixed the while upon the portentous figure pacing +the hall to and fro like the pendulum of a clock in a church-tower, +appearing from the background with imposing majesty and with unfailing +regularity. At last a gardener came, muttering something about boors +and vagabonds, and led me off to the garden, preaching me a long +sermon on the way about my being diligent and industrious and never +loitering about the world any more, and how, if I would give up all my +idle and foolish ways, I might come to some good in the end. There was +a great deal of exhortation in this strain, very good and useful, but +I have since forgotten it nearly all. In fact, I really hardly know +how it all came about; I went on saying "yes" to everything, and I +felt like a bird with its wings clipped. But, thank God, in the end I +was earning my living! + +I found life delightful in that garden. I had a hot dinner every day +and plenty of it, and more money than I needed for my glass of wine, +only, unfortunately, I had quite a deal to do. The pavilions, and +arbors, and long green walks delighted me, if I could only have +sauntered about and talked pleasantly like the gentlemen and ladies +who came there every day. Whenever the gardener was away and I was +alone, I took out my short tobacco-pipe, sat down, and thought of all +the beautiful, polite things with which I could have entertained +that lovely young lady who had brought me to the castle, had I been a +cavalier walking beside her. Or on sultry afternoons I lay on my +back on the grass, when all was so quiet that you could hear the bees +humming, and I gazed up at the clouds sailing away toward my native +village, and around me at the waving grass and flowers, and thought of +the lovely lady; and it sometimes chanced that I really saw her in the +distance walking in the garden, with her guitar or a book, tall and +beautiful as an angel, and I was only half conscious whether I were +awake or dreaming. + +Thus, once as I was passing a summer-house on my way to work, I was +singing to myself-- + + "I gaze around me, going + By forest, dale, and lea, + O'er heights where streams are flowing, + My every thought bestowing, + Ah, Lady fair, on thee!"-- + +when, through the half-opened lattice of the cool, dark summer-house +buried amid flowers, I saw the sparkle of a pair of beautiful, +youthful eyes. I was so startled that I could not finish my song, but +passed on to my work without looking round. + +In the evening--it was Saturday, and, in joyous anticipation of the +coming Sunday, I was standing, fiddle in hand, at the window of +the gardener's house, still thinking of the sparkling eyes--the +lady's-maid came tripping through the twilight--"The gracious Lady +fair sends you this to drink her health, and a 'Good-Night' besides!" +And in a twinkling she put a flask of wine on the window-sill and +vanished among the flowers and shrubs like a lizard. + +I stood looking at the wonderful flask for a long time, not knowing +what to think. And if before I played the fiddle merrily, I now +played it ten times more so, and I sang the song of the Lady fair all +through, and all the other songs that I knew, until the nightingales +wakened outside and the moon and stars lit up the garden. Ah, that was +a lovely night! + +No cradle-song tells the child's future; a blind hen finds many a +grain of wheat; he laughs best who laughs last; the unexpected often +happens; man proposes, God disposes: thus did I meditate the next day, +sitting in the garden with my pipe, and as I looked down at myself I +seemed to myself to be a downright dunce. Contrary to all my habits +hitherto, I now rose betimes every day, before the gardener and the +other assistants were stirring. It was most beautiful then in the +garden. The flowers, the fountains, the rose-bushes, the whole place, +glittered in the morning sunshine like pure gold and jewels. And in +the avenues of huge beeches it was as quiet, cool, and solemn as +a church, only the little birds fluttered around and pecked in the +gravel paths. In front of the castle, just under the windows, there +was a large bush in full bloom. Thither I used to go in the early +morning, and crouch down beneath the branches where I could watch the +windows, for I had not the courage to appear in the open. Thence I +sometimes saw the Lady fair in a snow-white robe come, still drowsy +and warm, to the open window. She would stand there braiding her +dark-brown hair, gazing abroad over the garden and shrubbery, or she +would tend and water the flowers upon her window-sill, or would rest +her guitar upon her white arm and sing out into the clear air so +wondrously that to this day my heart faints with sadness when one of +her songs recurs to me. And ah, it was all so long ago! + +So my life passed for a week and more. But once--she was standing at +the window and all was quiet around--a confounded fly flew directly +up my nose, and I was seized with an interminable fit of sneezing. +She leaned far out of the window and discovered me cowering in the +shrubbery. I was overcome with mortification and did not go there +again for many a day. + +At last I ventured to return to my post, but the window remained +closed. I hid in the bushes for four, five, six mornings, but she did +not appear. Then I grew tired of my hiding-place and came out boldly, +and every morning promenaded bravely beneath all the windows of the +castle. But the lovely Lady fair was not to be seen. At a window a +little farther on I saw the other lady standing; I had never before +seen her so distinctly. She had a fine rosy face, and was plump, and +as gorgeously attired as a tulip. I always made her a low bow, and she +acknowledged it, and her eyes twinkled very kindly and courteously. +Once only, I thought I saw the Lady fair standing behind the curtain +at her window, peeping out. + +Many days passed and I did not see her, either in the garden or at +the window. The gardener scolded me for laziness; I was out of humor, +tired of myself and of all about me. + +I was lying on the grass one Sunday afternoon, watching the blue +wreaths of smoke from my pipe, and fretting because I had not chosen +some other trade which would not have bored me so day after day. +The other fellows had all gone off to the dance in the neighboring +village. Every one was strolling about in Sunday attire, the houses +were gay, and there was melody in the very air. But I walked off and +sat solitary, like a bittern among the reeds, by a lonely pond in the +garden, rocking myself in a little skiff tied there, while the vesper +bells sounded faintly from the town and the swans glided to and fro on +the placid water. A sadness as of death possessed me. + +On a sudden I heard, in the distance, voices talking gaily, and bursts +of merry laughter. They sounded nearer and nearer, and red and white +kerchiefs and hats and feathers were visible through the shrubbery. A +party of gentlemen and ladies were coming from the castle, across the +meadow, directly toward me, and my two ladies among them. I stood up +and was about to retire, when the elder perceived me. "Aha, you are +just what we want!" she called to me, smiling. "Row us across the +pond to the other side." The ladies cautiously took their seats in +the boat, assisted by the gentlemen, who made quite a parade of their +familiarity with the water. When all the ladies were seated, I pushed +off from the shore. One of the young gentlemen who stood in the prow +began, unperceived, to rock the boat. The ladies looked frightened, +and one or two screamed. The Lady fair, who had a lily in her hand, +and was sitting well in the centre of the skiff, looked down with a +quiet smile into the clear water, touching the surface of the pond now +and then with a lily, her image, amid the reflections of the clouds +and trees, appearing like an angel soaring gently through the deep +blue skies. + +As I was gazing at her, the other of my two ladies, the plump, merry +one, suddenly took it into her head that I must sing as we glided +along. A very elegant young gentleman with an eye-glass, who sat +beside her, instantly turned to her, and, as he kissed her hand, said, +"Thanks for the poetic idea! A folk-song sung by one of the people in +the open air is an Alpine rose, upon the very Alps--the Alpine horns +are nothing but herbaria--the soul of the national consciousness." +But I said I did not know anything fine enough to sing to such great +people. Then the pert lady's-maid, who was beside me with a basket of +cups and bottles, and whom I had not perceived before, said, "He knows +a very pretty little song about a lady fair." "Yes, yes, sing that +one!" the lady exclaimed. I felt hot all over, and the Lady fair +lifted her eyes from the water and gave me a look that went to my very +soul. So I did not hesitate any longer, but took heart and sang with +all my might might-- + + "I gaze around me, going + By forest, dale, and lea, + O'er heights where streams are flowing, + My every thought bestowing, + Ah, Lady fair, on thee! + + "And in my garden, finding + Bright flowers fresh and rare, + While many a wreath I'm binding, + Sweet thoughts therein I'm winding + Of thee, my Lady fair. + + "For me 'twould be too daring + To lay them at her feet. + They'll soon away be wearing, + But love beyond comparing + Is thine, my Lady sweet. + + "In early morning waking, + I toil with ready smile, + And though my heart be breaking, + I'll sing to hide its aching, + And dig my grave the while." + +The boat touched the shore, and all the party got out; many of the +young gentlemen, as I had perceived, had made game of me in whispers +to the ladies while I was singing. The gentleman with the eye-glass +took my hand as he left the boat, and said something to me, I do not +remember what, and the elder of my two ladies gave me a kindly glance. +The Lady fair had never raised her eyes all the time I was singing, +and she went away without a word. As for me, before my song was ended +the tears stood in my eyes; my heart seemed like to burst with shame +and misery. I understood now for the first time how beautiful she +was, and how poor and despised and forsaken I, and when they had all +disappeared behind the bushes I could contain myself no longer, but +threw myself down on the grass and wept bitterly. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +The highroad was close on one side of the castle garden, and separated +from it only by a high wall. A very pretty little toll-house with a +red-tiled roof stood near, with a gay little flower-garden inclosed by +a picket-fence behind it. A breach in the wall connected this garden +with the most secluded and shady part of the castle garden itself. The +toll-gate keeper who occupied the cottage died suddenly, and early one +morning, when I was still sound asleep, the Secretary from the castle +waked me in a great hurry and bade me come immediately to the +Bailiff. I dressed myself as quickly as I could and followed the brisk +Secretary, who, as we went, plucked a flower here and there and stuck +it into his button-hole, made scientific lunges in the air with his +cane, and talked steadily to me all the while, although my eyes and +ears were so filled with sleep that I could not understand anything +he said. When we reached the office, where as yet it was hardly light, +the Bailiff, behind a huge inkstand and piles of books and papers, +looked at me from out of his huge wig like an owl from out its nest, +and began: "What's your name? Where do you come from? Can you read, +write, and cipher?" And when I assented, he went on, "Well, her +Grace, in consideration of your good manners and extraordinary merit, +appoints you to the vacant post of Receiver of Toll." I hurriedly +passed in mental review the conduct and manners that had hitherto +distinguished me, and was forced to admit that the Bailiff was right. +And so, before I knew it, I was Receiver of Toll. I took possession of +my dwelling, and was soon comfortably established there. The deceased +toll-gate keeper had left behind him for his successor various +articles, which I appropriated, among others a magnificent scarlet +dressing-gown dotted with yellow, a pair of green slippers, a tasseled +nightcap, and several long-stemmed pipes. I had often wished for +these things at home, where I used to see our village pastor thus +comfortably provided. All day long, therefore--I had nothing else to +do--I sat on the bench before my house in dressing-gown and nightcap, +smoking the longest pipe from the late toll-gate keeper's collection, +and looking at the people walking, driving, and riding on the +high-road. I only wished that some of the folks from our village, who +had always said that I never would be worth anything, might happen to +pass by and see me thus. The dressing-gown became my complexion, and +suited me extremely well. So I sat there and pondered many things--the +difficulty of all beginnings, the great advantages of an easier mode +of existence, for example--and privately resolved to give up travel +for the future, save money like other people, and in time do something +really great in the world. Meanwhile, with all my resolves, anxieties, +and occupations, I in no wise forgot the Lady fair. + +I dug up and threw out of my little garden all the potatoes and +other vegetables that I found there, and planted it instead with the +choicest flowers, which proceeding caused the Porter from the castle +with the big Roman nose--who since I had been made Receiver often came +to see me, and had become my intimate friend--to eye me askance as a +person crazed by sudden good fortune. But that did not deter me. For +from my little garden I could often hear feminine voices not far off +in the castle garden, and among them I thought I could distinguish +the voice of my Lady fair, although, because of the thick shrubbery, +I could see nobody. And so every day I plucked a nosegay of my finest +flowers, and when it was dark in the evening, I climbed over the wall +and laid it upon a marble table in an arbor near by, and every time +that I brought a fresh nosegay the old one was gone from the table. + +One evening all the castle inmates were away hunting; the sun was just +setting, flooding the landscape with flame and color, the Danube wound +toward the horizon like a band of gold and fire, and the vine-dressers +on all the hills throughout the country were glad and gay. I was +sitting with the Porter on the bench before my cottage, enjoying the +mild air and the gradual fading to twilight of the brilliant day. +Suddenly the horns of the returning hunting-party sounded on the +air; the notes were tossed from hill to hill by the echoes. My soul +delighted in it all, and I sprang up and exclaimed, in an intoxication +of joy, "That is what I ought to follow in life, the huntsman's noble +calling!" But the Porter quietly knocked the ashes out of his pipe and +said, "You only think so; I've tried it. You hardly earn the shoes you +wear out, and you're never without a cough or a cold from perpetually +getting your feet wet." I cannot tell how it was, but upon hearing him +speak thus, I was seized with such a fit of foolish rage that I fairly +trembled. On a sudden the entire fellow, with his bedizened coat, his +big feet, his snuff, his big nose, and everything about him, became +odious to me. Quite beside myself, I seized him by the breast of his +coat and said, "Home with you, Porter, on the instant, or I'll send +you there in a way you won't like!" At these words the Porter was +more than ever convinced that I was crazy. He gazed at me with evident +fear, extricated himself from my grasp, and went without a word, +looking reproachfully back at me, and striding toward the castle, +where he reported me as stark, staring mad. + +But after all I burst into a hearty laugh, glad in fact to be rid of +the pompous fellow, for it was just the hour when I was wont to carry +my nosegay to the arbor. I clambered over the wall, and was just about +to place the flowers on the marble table, when I heard the sound of a +horse's hoofs at some distance. There was no time for escape; my Lady +fair was riding slowly along the avenue in a green hunting-habit, +apparently lost in thought. All that I had read in an old book of my +father's about the beautiful Magelona came into my head--how she used +to appear among the tall forest-trees, when horns were echoing and +evening shadows were flitting through the glades. I could not +stir from the spot. She started when she perceived me and paused +involuntarily. I was as if intoxicated with intense joy, dread, and +the throbbing of my heart, and when I saw that she actually wore at +her breast the flowers I had left yesterday, I could no longer keep +silent, but said in a rapture, "Fairest Lady fair, accept these +flowers too, and all the flowers in my garden, and everything I have! +Ah, if I could only brave some danger for you!" At first she had +looked at me so gravely, almost angrily, that I shivered, but then +she cast down her eyes, and did not lift them while I was speaking. At +that moment voices and the tramp of horses were heard in the distance. +She snatched the flowers from my hand, and without saying a word, +swiftly vanished at the end of the avenue. + +After this evening I had neither rest nor peace. I felt continually, +as I had always felt when spring was at hand, restless and merry, and +as if some great good fortune or something extraordinary were about +to befall me. My wretched accounts in especial never would come right, +and when the sunshine, playing among the chestnut boughs before my +window, cast golden-green gleams upon my figures, illuminating "Bro't +over" and "Total," my addition grew sometimes so confused that I +actually could not count three. The figure "eight" always looked to +me like my stout, tightly-laced lady with the gay head-dress, and +the provoking "seven" like a finger-post pointing the wrong way, or a +gallows. The "nine" was the queerest, suddenly, before I knew what it +was about, standing on its head to look like "six," whilst "two" would +turn into a pert interrogation-point, as if to ask me, "What in the +world is to become of you, you poor zero? Without the others, the +slender 'one' and all the rest, you never can come to anything!" + +I had no longer any ease in sitting before my door. I took out a stool +to make myself more comfortable, and put my feet upon it; I patched up +an old parasol, and held it over me like a Chinese pleasure-dome. But +all would not do. As I sat smoking and speculating, my legs seemed +to stretch to twice their size from weariness, and my nose lengthened +visibly as I looked down at it for hours. And when sometimes, before +daybreak, an express drove up, and I went out, half asleep, into the +cool air, and a pretty face, but dimly seen in the dawning except for +its sparkling eyes, looked out at me from the coach window and kindly +bade me good-morning, while from the villages around the cock's clear +crow echoed across the fields of gently-waving grain, and an early +lark, high in the skies among the flushes of morning, soared here and +there, and the Postilion wound his horn and blew, and blew--as the +coach drove off, I would stand looking after it, feeling as if I could +not but start off with it on the instant into the wide, wide world. + +I still took my flowers every day, when the sun had set, to the marble +table in the dim arbor. But since that evening all had been over. Not +a soul took any notice of them, and when I went to look after them +early the next morning, there they lay as I had left them, gazing +sadly at me with their heads hanging, and the dew-drops glistening +upon their fading petals as if they were weeping. This distressed me, +and I plucked no more flowers. I let the weeds grow in my garden as +they pleased, and the flowers stayed on their stalks until the wind +blew them away. Within me there were the same desolation and neglect. + +In this critical state of affairs it happened once that, as I was +leaning out of my window gazing dully into vacancy, the lady's-maid +from the castle came tripping across the road. When she saw me she +came and stood just outside the window. "His Grace returned from +his travels yesterday," she remarked, hurriedly. "Indeed!" I said, +surprised, for I had taken no interest in anything for several weeks, +and did not even know that his Grace had been traveling. "Then his +lovely daughter will be very glad." The maid looked at me with a +strange expression of face, so that I began to wonder whether I had +said anything especially stupid. "He knows absolutely nothing!" she +said at last, turning up her little nose. "Well," she resumed, "there +is to be a ball and masquerade this evening at the castle in honor of +his Grace. My lady is to be dressed as a flower-girl--understand, as +a flower-girl. And she has noticed that you have particularly pretty +flowers in your garden." "That's strange," I thought to myself; "there +is hardly a flower to be seen there for the weeds!" But she continued: +"And since my lady needs perfectly fresh flowers for her costume, you +are to bring her some this evening, and wait under the big pear-tree +in the castle garden when it is dark until she comes for the flowers +herself." + +I was completely dazed with joy at this intelligence, and in my +rapture I leaped out of the window and ran after the maid. + +"Ugh, what an ugly dressing-gown!" she exclaimed, when she saw me +with my fluttering robe in the open air. This vexed me, but, not to be +behindhand in gallantry, I capered gaily after her to give her a kiss. +Unluckily, my feet became entangled in my dressing-gown, which was +much too long for me, and I fell flat on the ground. When I had picked +myself up the maid was gone, and I heard her in the distance laughing +fit to kill herself. + +Now I had delightful food for my reflections. After all, she still +remembered me and my flowers! I went into my garden and hastily tore +up all the weeds from the beds, throwing them high above my head into +the sunlit air, as if with the roots I were eradicating all melancholy +and annoyance from my life. Once more the roses were like _her_ lips, +the sky-blue convolvulus was like _her_ eyes, the snowy lily with its +pensive, drooping head was _her_ very image. I put them all tenderly +in a little basket; the evening was calm and lovely, not a speck of +a cloud in the sky. Here and there a star appeared; the murmur of +the Danube was heard afar over the meadows; in the tall trees of the +castle garden countless birds were twittering to one another merrily. +Ah, I was so happy! + +When at last night came I took my basket on my arm and set out for the +large garden. The flowers in the little basket looked so gay, white, +red, blue, and smelled so sweet, that my very heart laughed when I +peeped in at them. + +Filled with joyous thoughts, I walked in the lovely moonlight over the +trim paths strewn with gravel, across the little white bridge, beneath +which the swans were sleeping on the bosom of the water, and past the +pretty arbors and summer-houses. I soon found the big pear-tree; it +was the same under which, while I was gardener's boy, I used to lie on +sultry afternoons. + +All around me here was dark and lonely. A tall aspen quivered and kept +whispering with its silver leaves. The music from the castle was +heard at intervals, and now and then there were voices in the garden; +sometimes they passed quite near me, and then all would be still +again. + +My heart beat fast. I had a strange uncomfortable sensation as if I +were a robber. I stood for a long time stock-still, leaning against +the tree and listening; but when no one appeared I could bear it no +longer. I hung my basket on my arm and clambered up into the pear-tree +to breathe a purer air. + +The music of the dance floated up to me over the tree-tops. I +overlooked the entire garden and gazed directly into the brilliantly +illuminated windows of the castle. Chandeliers glittered there like +galaxies of stars; a multitude of gaily-dressed gentlemen and ladies +wandered and waltzed and whirled about unrecognizable, like the gay +figures of a magic-lantern; at times some of them leaned out of the +windows and looked down into the garden. In front of the castle the +brilliant light gilded the grass, the shrubbery, and the trees, so +that the flowers and the birds seemed to be aroused by it. All around +and below me, however, the garden lay black and still. + +"_She_ is dancing there now," I thought to myself up in the tree," +and has long since forgotten you and your flowers. All are gay; not a +human being cares for you in the least. And thus it is with me, always +and everywhere. Every one has his little nook marked out for him on +this earth, his warm hearth, his cup of coffee, his wife, his glass of +wine in the evening, and is perfectly happy; even the Porter with his +big nose is content. For me there is no place, I seem to be just too +late everywhere; the world has not a bit of need of me." + +As I was philosophizing thus, I suddenly heard something rustle on the +grass below me. Two soft voices were speaking together in a low +tone. In a moment the foliage of the shrubbery was parted, and the +lady's-maid's little face appeared among the leaves, peering about +on all sides. The moonlight sparkled in her saucy eyes as they +peeped out. I held my breath and stared down at her. Before long the +flower-girl did actually appear among the trees, just as the maid had +described her to me yesterday. My heart throbbed as if it would burst. +She had on a mask, and seemed to be gazing around in surprise. Somehow +she did not look to me as slender and graceful as she had been. +At last she reached the tree, and took off her mask. It was the +other--the elder lady! + +How glad I was, when I had recovered from the first shock, that I was +up here in safety! How in the world did she chance to come here? If +the dear, lovely Lady fair should happen to come at this instant +for her flowers, there would be a fine to-do! I could have cried for +vexation at the whole affair. + +Meanwhile the disguised flower-girl beneath me began: "It is so +stifling hot in the ball-room, I had to come out to cool myself in +this lovely open air." Thereupon she fanned herself with her mask +and puffed and blew. In the bright moonlight I could plainly see how +swollen were the cords of her neck; she looked very angry and quite +scarlet in the face. The lady's maid was all the while searching +behind every bush, as if she were looking for a lost pin. + +"I do so need more fresh flowers for my character," the flower-girl +continued. "Where can he be?" The maid went on searching, and kept +chuckling to herself. "What did you say, Rosetta?" the flower-girl +asked, shrewishly. "I say what I always have said," the maid replied, +putting on a very serious, honest face; "the Receiver is a lazy +fellow; of course he is lying behind some bush sound asleep." + +My blood tingled with longing to jump down and defend my reputation, +when on a sudden a burst of music and loud shouts were heard from the +castle. + +The flower-girl could stay no longer. "The people are cheering his +Grace," she said passionately. "Come, we shall be missed!" And she +clapped on her mask in a hurry, and ran in a rage with the maid toward +the castle. The trees and bushes seemed to point after her with long, +derisive fingers, the moonlight danced nimbly up and down over her +stout figure as though over the key-board of a piano, and thus to +the sound of trumpets and kettle-drums she made her exit, like many a +singer whom I have seen upon the stage. + +I, seated above in my tree, was downright bewildered, and gazed +fixedly at the castle; a circle of tall torches upon the steps of the +entrance cast a strange glare upon the glittering windows and deep +into the garden; the assembled servants were to serenade their master. +In the midst of them stood the gorgeous Porter, like a minister of +state, before a music-stand, working away busily at a bassoon. + +Just as I had settled myself to listen to the beautiful serenade, the +folding-doors leading to the balcony above the entrance parted. A tall +gentleman, very handsome and dignified, in uniform and glittering with +orders, stepped out on the balcony, leading by the hand the lovely +young Lady fair, dressed in white like a lily in the night, or like +the moon in the clear skies. + +I could not take my eyes from her, and garden, trees, and fields +disappeared before me, as she stood there tall and slender, so +wondrously illuminated by the torch-light, now speaking with such +grace to the young officer, and now nodding down kindly to the +musicians. The people below were beside themselves with delight, +and at last I too could restrain myself no longer, and joined in the +cheers with all my might. + +But when, soon after, she disappeared from the balcony, one after +another the torches below were extinguished and the music-stands +cleared away, and the garden around was once more dark, and the trees +rustled as before--then it all became clear to me; I saw that it was +really only the aunt who had ordered the flowers of me, that the Lady +fair never thought of me and had been married long ago, and that I +myself was a big fool. + +All this plunged me into an abyss of reflection. I rolled myself round +like a hedgehog on the prickles of my own thoughts. Snatches of music +still reached me now and then from the ball-room--the clouds floated +lonely away above the dim garden. And there I sat, all through +the night, up in the tree, like a night-owl, amid the ruins of my +happiness. + +The cool breeze of morning aroused me at last from my dreamings. I was +startled as I looked about me. The music and dancing had long since +ceased, and everything around the castle and on the lawn, and the +marble steps and columns, all looked quiet, cool, and solemn; the +fountain alone plashed on before the entrance. Here and there in the +boughs near me the birds were awaking, shaking their bright feathers, +and as they stretched their little wings, peering curiously and amazed +at their strange fellow-sleeper. The joyous rays of morning flashed +across my breast and over the garden. + +I stood erect in my tree, and for the first time for a long while +looked far abroad over the country, to where the ships glided down +the Danube among the vineyards, and the high-roads, still deserted, +stretched like bridges across the gleaming landscape and far over the +distant hills and valleys. + +I cannot tell how it was, but all at once my former love of travel +took possession of me, all the old melancholy, and delight, and ardent +expectation. And at the same moment I thought of the Lady fair over in +the castle sleeping among flowers, beneath silken coverlets, with an +angel surely keeping watch beside her bed in the silence of the dawn. +"No!" I cried aloud. "I must go away from here, far, far away--as far +as the sky stretches its blue arch!" + +As I uttered the words I tossed my basket high into the air, so that +it was beautiful to see how the flowers fell among the branches and +lay in gay colors on the green sod below. Then I got down as quickly +as possible, and went through the quiet garden to my dwelling. I +paused many times at spots where I had seen her pass, or where I had +lain in the shade and thought of her. + +In and about my cottage all was just as I had left it the day before. +The garden was torn up and laid waste, the big account-book lay +open on the table in my room, my fiddle, which I had almost clean +forgotten, hung dusty on the wall; a ray of morning light glittered +upon the strings. It struck a chord in my heart. "Yes," I said, "come +here, thou faithful instrument! Our kingdom is not of this world!" + +So I took the fiddle from the wall, and leaving behind me the +account-book, dressing-gown, slippers, pipes, and parasol, I walked +out of my cottage, as poor as when I entered it, and down along the +gleaming high-road. + +I looked back often and often; I felt very strange, sad, and yet +merry, like a bird escaping from his cage. And when I had walked some +distance I took out my fiddle and sang-- + + "I wander on, in God confiding, + For all are His, wood, field, and fell; + O'er earth and skies He still presiding, + For me will order all things well." + +The castle, the garden, and the spires of Vienna vanished behind me +in the morning mists; far above me countless larks exulted in the air; +thus, past gay villages and hamlets and over green hills, I wandered +on toward Italy. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Here was a puzzle! It had never occurred to me that I did not know my +way. Not a human being was to be seen in the quiet early morning +whom I could question, and right before me the road divided into many +roads, which went on far, far over the highest mountains, as though to +the very end of the world--so that I actually grew giddy as I looked +along them. + +At last a peasant appeared, going to church I fancy, as it was Sunday, +in an old-fashioned coat with large silver buttons, and swinging a +long malacca cane with a massive silver head, which sparkled from afar +in the sunlight. I immediately asked him very politely, "Can you tell +me which is the road to Italy?" The fellow stood still, stared at me, +thrust out his under lip reflectively, and stared at me again. I began +once more: "To Italy, where oranges grow." "What do I care for your +oranges!" said the peasant, and walked on sturdily. I should have +credited the fellow with more politeness, for he really looked very +fine. + +What was to be done? Turn round and go back to my native village? Why, +the folks would have jeered me, and the boys would have run after me +crying, "Oh, indeed! you're welcome back from 'out in the world.' +How does it look 'out in the world?' Haven't you brought us some +ginger-nuts from 'out in the world?'" The Porter with the High Roman +nose, who certainly was familiar with Universal History, used often to +say to me, "Respected Herr Receiver, Italy is a beautiful country; the +dear God takes care of every one there. You can lie on your back in +the sunshine and raisins drop into your mouth; and if a tarantula +bites you, you dance with the greatest ease, although you never +in your life before learned to dance." "Ay, to Italy! to Italy!" I +shouted with delight, and, heedless of any choice of roads, hurried on +along the first that came. + +After I had gone a little way I saw on the right a most beautiful +orchard, with the morning sun shimmering on the trunks and through the +tree-tops so brilliantly that it looked as if the ground were spread +with golden rugs. As no one was in sight, I clambered over the low +fence and lay down comfortably on the grass under an apple-tree; +all my limbs were still aching from camping out in the tree on the +previous night. From where I lay I could see far abroad over the +country, and as it was Sunday the sound of the church-bells from +the far distance came to me over the quiet fields, and gaily-dressed +peasants were walking across the meadows and along the lanes to +church. I was glad at heart; the birds sang in the tree overhead; +I thought of my father's mill, and of the garden of the lovely Lady +fair, and of how far, far away it all was--until I fell sound asleep. +I dreamed that the Lady fair came walking, or rather slowly flying, +toward me from the lovely landscape to the music of the church-bells, +in long white robes that waved in the rosy morning. Then again +it seemed that we were not in a strange country, but in my native +village, in the deep shade beside the mill. But everything was still +and deserted, as it is when the people are all gone to church and only +the solemn sounds of the organ wafted down through the trees break the +stillness; I was oppressed with melancholy. But the Lady fair was very +kind and gentle, and put her hand in mine and walked along with me, +and sang, amid this solitude, the beautiful song that she used to +sing to her guitar early in the morning at her open window, and in the +placid mill-pool I saw her image, lovelier even than herself, except +that the eyes were wondrous large and looked at me so strangely that +I was almost afraid. Then suddenly the mill-wheel began to turn, at +first slowly, then faster and more noisily; the pool became dark and +troubled, the Lady fair turned very pale, and her robes grew longer +and longer, and fluttered wildly in long strips like pennons of +mist up toward the skies; the roaring of the mill-wheel sounded ever +louder, and it seemed as though it were the Porter blowing upon his +bassoon, so that I waked up with my heart throbbing violently. + +In fact, a breeze had arisen, which was gently stirring the leaves of +the apple-tree above me; but the noise and roaring came neither from +the mill nor from the Porter's bassoon, but from the same peasant who +had before refused to show me the way to Italy. He had taken off +his Sunday coat and put on a white smock-frock. "Oho!" he said, as I +rubbed my sleepy eyes, "do you want to pick your oranges here, that +you trample down all my grass instead of going to church, you lazy +lout, you?" I was vexed that the boor should have waked me, and I +started up and cried, "Hold your tongue! I have been a better gardener +than you will ever be, and a Receiver, and if you had been driving to +town, you would have had to take off your dirty cap to me, sitting at +my door in my yellow-dotted, red dressing-gown--" But the fellow was +nothing daunted, and, putting his arms akimbo, merely asked, "What do +you want here? eh! eh!" I saw that he was a short, stubbed, bow-legged +fellow, with protruding goggle-eyes, and a red, rather crooked nose. +And when he went on saying nothing but "Eh! eh!" and kept advancing +toward me step by step, I was suddenly seized with so curious a +sensation of disgust that I hastily jumped to my feet, leaped over the +fence, and, without looking round, ran across country until my fiddle +in my pocket twanged again. + +When at last I stopped to take breath, the orchard and the whole +valley were out of sight and I was in a beautiful forest. But I took +little note of it, for I was downright provoked at the peasant's +impertinence, and I fumed for a long time, to myself. I walked on +quickly, going farther and farther from the high-road and in among the +mountains. The plank-roadway which I had been following ceased, and +before me was only a narrow, unfrequented foot-path. Not a soul was +to be seen anywhere, and no sound was to be heard. But it was very +pleasant walking; the trees rustled and the birds sang sweetly. I +resigned myself to the guidance of heaven, and, taking out my violin, +played all my favorite airs. Very joyous they sounded in the lonely +forest. + +I grew tired of playing after a while, for I stumbled every minute +over the tiresome roots of the trees, and I began to grow very hungry, +while the wood seemed endless. Thus I wandered for the entire day, +until the sun's rays came aslant through the trunks of the trees, when +at last I emerged on a little grassy vale shut in by the mountains and +gay with red and yellow flowers, above which myriads of butterflies +were fluttering in the golden light of the setting sun. It was as +secluded here as though the world had been hundreds of miles away. The +crickets chirped, and a shepherd lad lying among the tall grasses blew +so melancholy an air upon his horn that it was enough to break one's +heart. "Yes," thought I to myself, "who has as happy a lot as a lazy +lout! Some of us, though, have to wander about among strangers, and be +always on the go." As a lovely, clear stream separated me from him, +I called to him to ask where the nearest village was. But he did not +disturb himself to reply--only stretched his head a little out of the +grass, pointed with his horn to the opposite wood, and coolly resumed +his piping. + +I marched on briskly, for twilight was at hand. The birds, which had +made a great clatter while the sun was disappearing on the horizon, +suddenly fell silent, and I began to feel almost afraid, so solemn +was the perpetual rustling of the lonely forest. At last I heard dogs +barking in the distance. I walked more quickly, the forest grew less +and less dense, and in a little while I saw through the last trees a +beautiful village-green, where a crowd of children were frolicking, +and capering around a huge linden in the centre. Opposite me was an +inn, and at a table before it were seated some peasants playing cards +and smoking. On one side a number of lads and lasses were gathered +in a group, the girls with their arms rolled in their aprons, and all +gossiping together in the cool of the evening. + +I took very little time for consideration, but, drawing my fiddle from +my pocket, I played a merry waltz as I came out from the forest. The +girls were surprised, and the old folks laughed so that the woods +reechoed with their merriment. But when I reached the linden, and, +leaning my back against it, went on playing gay waltzes, a whisper +went round among the groups of young people to the right and left; the +lads laid aside their pipes, each put his arm around his lass's waist, +and in the twinkling of an eye the young folk were all waltzing around +me; the dogs barked, skirts and coat-tails fluttered, and the children +stood around me in a circle gazing curiously into my face and at my +briskly-moving fingers. + +When the first waltz was ended, it was easy to see how good music +loosens the limbs. The peasant lads, who had before been restlessly +shuffling about on the benches, with their pipes in their mouths and +their legs stretched out stiffly in front of them, were positively +transformed, and, with their gay handkerchiefs hanging from the +button-holes of their coats, capered about with the lasses so that it +was a pleasure to look at them. One of them, who evidently thought +a deal of himself, fumbled in his waistcoat-pocket for a long while, +that the others might see him, and finally brought out a little silver +coin, which he tried to put into my hand. It irritated me, although I +had not a stiver in my pocket. I told him to keep his pennies, I was +playing only for joy, because I was glad to be among people once more. +Soon afterward, however, a pretty girl came up to me with a great +tankard of wine. "Musicians are thirsty folk," she said, with a laugh +that displayed her pearls of teeth gleaming so temptingly between her +red lips that I should have liked to kiss her then and there. She put +the tankard to her charming mouth, and her eyes sparkled at me over +its rim; she then handed it to me; I drained it to the bottom, and +played afresh, till all were spinning merrily about me once more. + +By and by the old peasants finished their game, and the young people +grew tired and separated, so that gradually all was quiet and deserted +in front of the inn. The girl who had brought me the wine also walked +toward the village, but she went very slowly, and looked around from +time to time as if she had forgotten something. At last she stopped +and seemed to search for it on the ground, but as she stooped I saw +her glance toward me from under her arm. I had learned polite manners +at the castle, so I sprang toward her and said, "Have you lost +anything, my pretty ma'amselle?" She blushed crimson. "Ah, no," she +said; "it was only a rose; will you have it?" I thanked her, and stuck +the rose in my button-hole. She looked very kindly at me, and said, +"You play beautifully." "Yes," I replied, "it is a gift from God." +"Musicians are very rare in the country about here," she began again, +then stammered, and cast down her eyes. "You might earn a deal of +money here. My father plays the fiddle a little, and likes to hear +about foreign countries--and my father is very rich." Then she +laughed, and said, "If you only would not waggle your head so, when +you play." "My dearest girl," I said, "do not blush so--and as for the +tremoloso motion of the head, we can't help it, great musicians all do +it." "Oh, indeed!" rejoined the girl. She was about to say more, when +a terrible racket arose in the inn; the front door was opened with a +bang, and a tall, lean fellow was shot out of it like a ramrod, after +which it was slammed to behind him. + +At the first sound the girl ran off like a deer and vanished in the +darkness. The man picked himself up and began to rave against the +inn with such volubility that it was a wonder to hear him. "What!" he +yelled, "I drunk? I not pay the chalk-marks on your smoky door? Rub +them out! rub them out! Did I not shave you yesterday over a ladle, +and cut you just under the nose so that you bit the ladle in two? +Shaving takes off one mark; ladle, another mark; court-plaster on your +nose, another. How many more of your dirty marks do you want to have +paid? But all right--all right. I'll let the whole village, the whole +world go unshaved. Wear your beards, for all I care, till they are so +long that at the judgment-day the Almighty will not know whether you +are Jews or Christians. Yes, hang yourselves with your beards, shaggy +bears that you are!" Here he burst into tears and, in a maudlin, +falsetto voice, sobbed out, "Am I to drink water like a wretched fish? +Is that loving your neighbor? Am I not a man and a skilled surgeon? +Ah, I am beside myself today; my heart is full of pity, and of love +for my fellow-creatures." And then, finding that all was quiet in the +house, he began to walk away. When he saw me, he came plunging toward +me with outstretched arms. I thought the fellow was about to embrace +me, and sprang aside, letting him stumble on in the darkness, where I +heard him discoursing to himself for some time. + +All sorts of fancies filled my brain. The girl who had given me the +rose was young, pretty, and rich. I could make my fortune before one +could turn round. And sheep and pigs, turkeys, and fat geese stuffed +with apples--verily, I seemed to see the Porter strutting up to me: +"Seize your luck, Receiver, seize your luck! 'Marry young, you're +never wrong;' take home your bride, live in the country, and live +well." Plunged in these philosophical reflections, I sat me down on +a stone, for, since I had no money, I did not venture to knock at +the inn. The moon shone brilliantly, the forests on the mountain-side +murmured in the still night; now and then a dog barked in the village +which lay farther down the valley, buried, as it were, beneath foliage +and moonlight. I gazed up at the heavens, where a few clouds were +sailing slowly and now and then a falling star shot down from the +zenith. Thus this same moon, thought I, is shining down upon my +father's mill and upon his Grace's castle. Everything there is quiet +by this time, the Lady fair is asleep, and the fountains and leaves in +the garden are whispering just as they used to whisper, all the same +whether I am there, or here, or dead. And the world seemed to me so +terribly big, and I so utterly alone in it, that I could have wept +from the very depths of my heart. + +While I was thus sitting there, suddenly I heard the sound of horses' +hoofs in the forest. I held my breath and listened as the sound +came nearer and nearer, until I could hear the horses snorting. Soon +afterward two horsemen appeared under the trees, but paused at the +edge of the woods, and talked together in low, very eager tones, as +I could see by the moving shadows which were thrown across the +bright village-green, and by their long dark arms pointing in various +directions. How often at home, when my mother, now dead, had told me +of savage forests and fierce robbers, had I privately longed to be a +part of such a story! I was well paid now for my silly, rash longings. +I reached up the linden-tree, beneath which I was sitting, as high +as I could, unobserved, until I clasped the lowest branch, and then I +swung myself up. But just as I had got my body half across the branch, +and was about to drag my legs up after it, one of the horsemen trotted +briskly across the green toward me. I shut my eyes tight amid the +thick foliage, and did not stir. "Who is there?" a voice called +directly under me. "Nobody!" I yelled in terror at being detected, +although I could not but laugh to myself at the thought of how the +rogues would look when they should turn my empty pockets inside out. +"Aha!" said the robber, "whose are these legs, then, hanging down +here?" There was no help for it. "They are," I replied, "only a couple +of legs of a poor, lost musician." And I hastily let myself drop, for +I was ashamed to hang there any longer like a broken fork. + +The rider's horse shied when I dropped so suddenly from the tree. He +patted the animal's neck, and said, laughing, "Well, we too are lost, +so we are comrades; perhaps you can help us to find the road to B. You +shall be no loser by it." I assured him that I knew nothing about the +road to B., and said that I would ask in the inn, or would conduct +them to the village. But the man would not listen to reason; he +drew from his girdle a pistol, the barrel of which glittered in the +moonlight. "My dear fellow," he said in a very friendly tone, as he +wiped off the glittering barrel and then ran his eye along it--"my +dear fellow, you will have the kindness to go yourself before us to +B." + +Verily, I was in a scrape. If I chanced to hit the right road, I +should certainly get into the midst of the robber band and be beaten +because I had no money; if I did not find the road, I should be beaten +of course. I wasted very little thought upon the matter, but took +the first road at hand, the one past the inn which led away from +the village. The horseman galloped back to his companion, and both +followed me slowly at some distance. Thus we wandered on foolishly +enough at hap-hazard through the moonlit night. The road led through +forests on the side of a mountain. Sometimes we could see, above the +tops of the pines stirring darkly beneath us, far abroad into the +deep, silent valleys; now and then a nightingale burst into song; the +dogs bayed in the distant villages. A brook babbled ceaselessly from +the depths below us, and here and there glistened in the moonlight. +The hush was disturbed by the monotonous tramp of the horses and by +the stir and movement of their riders, who talked together incessantly +in a foreign tongue, and the bright moonlight contrasted sharply with +the long shadows of the trees, which swept across the figures of the +horsemen, making them appear now black, now light, now dwarfish, and +anon gigantic. My thoughts grew strangely confused, as though in a +dream from which I could not waken, but I marched straight ahead. We +certainly must reach the end of the forest and of the night too, I +thought. + +At last long, rosy streaks flushed the horizon here and there but +faintly, as when one breathes upon a mirror, and a lark began to sing +high up above the peaceful valley. My heart at once grew perfectly +light at the approach of dawn, and all fear left me. The two horsemen +stretched themselves, looked around, and seemed for the first time +to suspect that we might not have taken the right road. They chatted +much, and I could perceive that they were talking of me; it even +seemed to me that one of them began to mistrust me, as though I were +a rogue trying to lead them astray in the forest. This amused me +mightily, for the lighter it grew the greater grew my courage, until +we emerged upon a fine, spacious opening. Here I looked about me quite +savagely, and whistled once or twice through my fingers, as scoundrels +always do when they wish to signal one another. + +"Halt!" exclaimed one of the horsemen, so suddenly that I jumped. When +I looked round I saw that both had alighted and had tied their horses +to a tree. One of them came up to me rapidly, stared me full in the +face, and then burst into a fit of immoderate laughter. I must confess +this senseless merriment irritated me. But he said, "Why, it is +actually the gardener--I should say the Receiver, from the castle!" + +I stared at him in turn, but could not remember who he was; indeed, I +should have had enough to do to recognize all the young gentlemen who +came and went at the castle. He kept up an eternal laughter, however, +declaring, "This is magnificent! You're taking a holiday, I see; +we are just in want of a servant; stay with us and you will have a +perpetual holiday." I was dumbfounded, and said at last that I was +just on my way to visit Italy. "Italy?" the stranger rejoined. "That +is just where we wish to go!" "Ah, if that be so!" I exclaimed, and, +taking out my fiddle, I tuned up so that all the birds in the +wood awaked. The young fellow immediately threw his arm around his +companion, and they waltzed about the meadow like mad. + +Suddenly they stood still. "By heavens," exclaimed one, "I can see the +church-tower of B.! We shall soon be there." He took out his watch and +made it repeat, then shook his head, and made the watch strike again. +"No," he said, "it will not do; we should arrive too early, and that +might be very bad." + +Then they brought out from their saddle-bags cakes, cutlets, and +bottles of wine, spread a gay cloth on the grass, stretched themselves +beside it, and feasted to their hearts' content, sharing all +generously with me, which I greatly enjoyed, seeing that for some days +I had not had over and above enough to eat. "And let me tell you," +one of them said to me--"but you do not know us yet?" I shook my head. +"Then let me tell you. I am the painter Lionardo, and my friend here +is a painter also, called Guido." + +I could see the two painters more clearly in the dawning morning. Herr +Lionardo was tall, brown, and slender, with merry, ardent eyes. The +other was much younger, smaller, and more delicate, dressed in antique +German style, as the Porter called it, with a white collar and bare +throat, about which hung dark brown curls, which he was often obliged +to toss aside from his pretty face. When he had breakfasted, he picked +up my fiddle, which I had laid on the grass beside me, seated himself +upon the fallen trunk of a tree, and strummed the strings. Then he +sang in a voice clear as a wood-robin's, so that it went to my very +heart heart-- + + "When the earliest morning ray + Through the valley finds its way, + Hill and forest fair awaking, + All who can their flight are taking. + + "And the lad who's free from care + Shouts, with cap flung high in air, + 'Song its flight can aye be winging; + Let me, then, be ever singing.'" + +As he sang, the ruddy rays of morning exquisitely illumined his pale +face and dark, love-lit eyes. But I was so tired that the words and +notes of his song mingled and blended strangely in my ears, until at +last I fell sound asleep. + +When, by and by, I began gradually to awaken, I heard, as in a dream, +the two painters talking together beside me, and the birds singing +overhead, while the morning sun shining through my closed eyelids +produced the sensation of looking toward the light through red +curtains. "_Com' è bello_!" I heard some one exclaim close to me. I +opened my eyes, and saw the younger painter bending over me in the +clear morning light, so near that I seemed to see only his large black +eyes between his drooping curls. + +I sprang up hastily, for it was broad day. Herr Lionardo seemed +cross--he had two angry furrows on his brow--and hastily made ready to +move on. But the other painter shook his curls away from his face and +quietly hummed an air to himself as he was bridling his steed, until +at last Lionardo burst into a sudden fit of laughter, picked up a +bottle standing on the grass, and poured the contents into a couple +of glasses. "To our happy arrival!" he exclaimed, as the two clinked +their glasses melodiously. Whereupon Lionardo tossed the empty bottle +high in the air, and it sparkled brilliantly. + +At last they mounted their horses, and I marched on beside them. Just +at our feet lay a valley in measureless extent, into which our road +descended. How clear and fresh and bright and jubilant were all the +sights and sounds around! I was so cool, so happy, that I felt as if I +could have flown from the mountain out into the glorious landscape. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Farewell, mill, and castle, and Porter! We went at such a pace that +the wind nearly blew my hat off. Right and left, villages, towns, and +vineyards flew past in a twinkling; behind me the two painters were +seated in the carriage, before me were four horses and a gorgeous +postilion, while I, seated high up on the box, bounced into the air +from time to time. + +It had happened thus: Arrived at B., while we were as yet in the +outskirts a tall, thin, crusty gentleman in a green plush coat came to +meet us, and, with many obeisances to the two painters, conducted +us into the village, where, beneath the tall linden beside the +post-station, stood a fine carriage with four post-horses. Herr +Lionardo meanwhile insisted that I had outgrown my clothes, and in a +trice he produced another suit from his portmanteau, and I had to put +on a beautiful new dress-coat and vest; very fine to see, but they +were too long and too wide for me, and absolutely fluttered about me. +And I also had a brand-new hat, which shone in the sunlight as if it +had been smeared with fresh butter. Then the crusty stranger gentleman +took the bridles of the two horses which the painters had been riding, +the painters themselves got into the carriage, I mounted upon the +box, and we started, just as the postmaster poked his head out of the +window, in his nightcap. The postilion blew his horn merrily, and we +were off for Italy. + +I led a magnificent existence up there, like a bird in the air, except +that I did not need to fly. I had absolutely nothing to do but to sit +on the box day and night, and bring out food and drink to the carriage +from the inns, for the painters never alighted, and in the daytime +they shut the carriage windows close, as if the sun would have killed +them; only now and then Herr Guido put his pretty head out of the +carriage window and chatted kindly with me, laughing the while at Herr +Lionardo, who always seemed to dislike these talks. Once or twice I +nearly fell into disgrace with my master--the first time because on a +clear starry night I began to play the fiddle up there on my box, and +then because of my sleeping. It _was_ strange! I longed to see all +that I could of Italy, and opened my eyes wide every fifteen minutes. +And yet, after I had gazed steadily about me for a while, the sixteen +trotting feet before me would grow indistinct and dreamy, my eyes +would gradually close, and at last I would fall into a slumber so +profound and invincible that it was impossible to rouse me. Then day +or night, rain or sunshine, Tyrol or Italy, it was all the same; +I swayed first to the right, then to the left, then backward--nay, +sometimes my head nodded down so low that my hat dropped off, and Herr +Guido screamed aloud. + +Thus we had passed, I hardly know how, half through the part of +Italy that they call Lombardy, when on a fine evening we stopped at +a country inn. The post-horses were to be ready for us at the +neighboring station in a couple of hours, so the painters left the +carriage, and were shown into a special apartment, to rest a little, +and to write some letters. I was greatly pleased, and betook myself +to the common room to eat and drink in comfort. Here everything looked +rather disreputable: the maids were going about with their hair in +disorder and their neckerchiefs awry, exposing their sallow skin; +the men-servants were at their supper in blue smock-frocks, around a +circular table, whence they glowered at me from time to time. They all +wore their hair tied behind in a short, thick queue which looked quite +dandified. "Here you are," I said to myself, as I ate my supper, "here +you are in the country from which such queer people used to come to +the Herr Pastor's with mouse-traps, and barometers, and pictures. How +much a man learns who makes up his mind not to stick close to his own +hearth-stone all his life!" + +As I was thus eating my supper and meditating, a little man, who had +been sitting in a dim corner of the room over a glass of wine, darted +out of his nook at me like a spider. He was quite short and crooked, +and he had a big ugly head, with a long hooked nose and sparse red +whiskers, while his powdered hair stood on end all over his head as +if a hurricane had swept over it. He wore an old-fashioned, threadbare +dress-coat, short, plush breeches, and faded silk stockings. He had +once been in Germany, and prided himself upon his knowledge of German. +He sat down by me and asked a hundred questions, perpetually taking +snuff the while--Was I the _servitore_? When did we arrive? Had we +gone to Roma? All this I myself did not know, and really I could not +understand his gibberish. "_Parlez-vous français_?" I asked him at +last in my distress. He shook his big head, and I was very glad, for +neither did I speak French. But it was of no use, he had taken me in +hand, and went on asking question after question; the more we parleyed +the less we understood each other, until at last we both grew angry, +and I actually thought the Signor would have liked to peck me with his +hooked beak, until the maids, who had been listening to our confusion +of tongues, laughed heartily at us. I put down my knife and fork and +went out of doors; for in this strange land I, with my German tongue, +seemed to have sunk down fathoms deep into the sea, where all sorts +of unfamiliar, crawling creatures were gliding about me, peopling the +solitude and glaring and snapping at me. + +Outside, the summer night was warm and inviting. From the distant +vineyards a laborer's song now and then fell on the ear; there was +lightning low on the horizon, and the landscape seemed to tremble and +whisper in the moonlight. Sometimes I thought I perceived a tall, +dim figure gliding behind the hazel hedge in front of the house and +peeping through the twigs, and then all would be motionless. Suddenly +Herr Guido appeared on the balcony above me. He did not see me, and +began to play with great skill on a zither which he must have found in +the house, singing to it like a nightingale: + + "When the yearning heart is stilled + As in dreams, the forest sighing, + To the listening earth replying, + Tells the thoughts with which 'twas filled: + Days long vanished, soothing sorrow-- + From the Past a light they borrow, + And the heart is gently thrilled." + +I do not know whether he sang any more, for I had stretched myself on +a bench outside the door, and I fell asleep in the warm air from sheer +exhaustion. + +A couple of hours must have passed, when I was roused by the winding +of a post-horn, which sounded merrily in my dreams for a while before +I fully recovered consciousness. At last I sprang up; day was +already dawning on the mountains, and I felt through all my limbs the +freshness of the morning. Then it occurred to me that by this time we +ought to be far on our way. "Aha!" I thought, "now it is my turn to +laugh. How Herr Guido will shake his sleepy, curly head when he hears +me outside!" So I went close beneath the window in the little garden +at the back of the house, stretched my limbs well in the morning air, +and sang merrily-- + + "If the cricket's chirp we hear, + Then be sure the day is near; + When the sun is rising--then + 'Tis good to go to asleep again." + +The window of the room where my masters were stood open, but all +within was quiet; the breeze alone rustled the leaves of the vine that +clambered into the window itself. "What does this mean?" I exclaimed +in surprise, and ran into the house, and through the silent corridors, +to the room. But when I opened the door my heart stood still with +dismay; the room was perfectly empty; not a coat, not a hat, not a +boot, anywhere. Only the zither upon which Herr Guido had played was +hanging on the wall, and on the table in the centre of the room lay +a purse full of money, with a card attached to it. I took it to +the window, and could scarcely trust my eyes when I read, in large +letters, "For the Herr Receiver!" + +But what good could it all do me if I could not find my dear, merry +masters again? I thrust the purse into my deep coat-pocket, where it +plumped down as into a well and almost pulled me over backward. Then I +rushed out, and made a great noise, and waked up all the maids and men +in the house. They could not imagine what was the matter, and thought +I must have gone crazy. But they were not a little amazed when they +saw the empty nest. No one knew anything of my masters. One maid +only had observed--so far as I could make out from her signs and +gesticulations--that Herr Guido, when he was singing on the balcony on +the previous evening, had suddenly screamed aloud, and had then rushed +back into the room to the other gentleman. And once, when she waked +in the night afterward, she had heard the tramp of a horse. She peeped +out of the little window of her room, and saw the crooked Signor, who +had talked so much to me, on a white horse, galloping so furiously +across the field in the moonlight that he bounced high up from his +saddle; and the maid crossed herself, for he looked like a ghost +riding upon a three-legged horse. I did not know what in the world to +do. + +Meanwhile, however, our carriage was standing before the door ready to +start, and the impatient postilion blew his horn fit to burst, for he +had to be at the next station at a certain hour, because everything +had been ordered with great exactitude in the way of changing horses. +I ran once more through all the house, calling the painters, but no +one made answer; the inn-people stared at me, the postilion cursed, +the horses neighed, and, at last, completely dazed, I sprang into the +carriage, the hostler shut the door behind me, the postilion cracked +his whip, and away I went into the wide world. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +We drove on now over hill and dale, day and night. I had no time for +reflection, for wherever we arrived the horses were standing ready +harnessed. I could not talk with the people, and my signs and gestures +were of no use; often just in the midst of a fine dinner the postilion +wound his horn, and I had to drop knife and fork and spring into +the carriage again without knowing whither I was going, or why or +wherefore I was obliged to hurry on at such a rattling pace. + +Otherwise the life was not unpleasant. I reclined upon the soft +cushions first in one corner of the carriage and then in the other, +and took note of countries and people, and when we drove through +the villages I leaned both arms on the window of the carriage, and +acknowledged the courtesy of the men who took off their hats to me, or +else I kissed my hand like an old acquaintance to the young girls at +the windows, who looked surprised, and stared after me as long as the +carriage was in sight. + +But a day came when I was in a terrible fright. I had never counted +the money in the purse left for me, and I had to pay a great deal to +the postmasters and innkeepers everywhere, so that before I was aware, +the purse was empty. When I first discovered this I had an idea of +jumping out of the carriage and making my escape, the next time we +drove through a lonely wood. But I could not make up my mind to give +up the beautiful carriage and leave it all alone, when, if it were +possible, I would gladly have driven in it to the end of the world. + +So I sat buried in thought, not knowing what to do, when all at once +we turned aside from the highway. I shouted to the postilion to ask +him where he was going, but, shout as I would, the fellow never made +any answer save "_Si, si, Signore_!" and on he drove over stock and +stone till I was jolted from side to side in the carriage. + +I was not at all pleased, for the high-road ran through a charming +country, directly toward the setting sun, which was bathing the +landscape in a sea of splendor, while before us, when we turned aside, +lay a dreary hilly region, broken by ravines, where in the gray depths +darkness had already set in. The further we drove, the lonelier and +drearier grew the road. At last the moon emerged from the clouds, and +shone through the trees with a weird, unearthly brilliancy. We had +to go very slowly in the narrow rocky ravines, and the continuous, +monotonous rattle of the carriage reechoed from the walls on either +side, as if we were driving through a vaulted tomb. From the depths +of the forest came a ceaseless murmur of unseen water-falls, and the +owlets hooted in the distance "Come too! come too!" As I looked at the +driver, I noticed for the first time that he wore no uniform and was +not a postilion; he seemed to be growing restless, turning his head +and looking behind him several times. Then he began to drive quicker, +and as I leaned out of the carriage a horseman came out of the +shrubbery on one side of the road, crossed it at a bound directly in +front of our horses, and vanished in the forest on the other side. +I felt bewildered; as far as I could see in the bright moonlight the +rider was that very same crooked little man who had so pecked at me +with his hooked nose in the inn, and mounted, too, on the same +white horse. The driver shook his head and laughed aloud at such +horsemanship, then quickly turned to me and said a great deal very +eagerly, not a word of which did I understand, and then he drove on +more rapidly than ever. + +I was rejoiced soon afterward when I perceived a light glimmering in +the distance. Gradually more and more lights appeared, and at last we +passed several smoke-dried huts clinging like swallows' nests to the +rocks. As the night was warm, the doors stood open, and I could see +into the lighted rooms, and all sorts of ragged figures gathered about +the hearths. We rattled on through the quiet night, along a steep, +stony road leading up a high mountain. Soon lofty trees and hanging +vines arched completely over us, and anon the heavens became visible, +and we could overlook in the depths a distant circle of mountains, +forests, and valleys. On the summit of the mountain stood a grand old +castle, its many towers gleaming in the brilliant moonlight. "God +be thanked!" I exclaimed, greatly relieved, and on the tiptoe of +expectation as to whither I was being conducted. + +A good half-hour passed, however, before we reached the gate-way of +the castle. It led under a broad round tower, the summit of which was +half ruined. The driver cracked his whip three times, so that the old +castle reëchoed, and a flock of startled rooks flew forth from every +sheltered nook and careered wildly overhead with hoarse caws. Then the +carriage rolled on through the long, dark gate-way. The iron shoes of +the horses struck fire upon the stone pavement, a large dog barked, +the wheels thundered along the vaulted passage, the rooks' hoarse +cries resounded, and amidst all this horrible hubbub we reached a +small, paved courtyard. + +"A queer post-station this," I thought, when the coach stopped. The +coach door was opened, and a tall old man with a small lantern scanned +me grimly from beneath his bushy eyebrows. He then took my arm and +helped me to alight from the coach as if I had been a person of +quality. Outside, before the castle door, stood a very ugly old woman +in a black camisole and petticoat, with a white apron and a black +cap, the long point of which in front almost touched her nose. A large +bunch of keys hung on one side of her waist, and she held in her hand +an old-fashioned candelabrum with two lighted wax candles. As soon as +she saw me she began to duck and curtsey and to talk volubly. I did +not understand a word, but I scraped innumerable bows, and felt very +uncomfortable. + +Meanwhile, the old man had peered into every corner of the coach with +his lantern, and grumbled and shook his head upon finding no trace +of trunk or luggage. The driver, without asking for the usual +_pour-boire_, proceeded to put up the coach in an old shed on one side +of the courtyard, while the old woman by all sorts of courteous signs +invited me to follow her. She showed the way with her wax candles +through a long, narrow passage, and up a little stone staircase. +As we passed the kitchen a couple of maids poked their heads +inquisitively through the half-open door, and stared at me, as they +winked and nodded furtively to each other, as if they had never in all +their lives seen a man before. At last the old woman opened a door, +and for a moment I was quite dazed; the apartment was spacious and +very handsome, the ceiling decorated with gilded carving and the walls +hung with magnificent tapestry portraying all sorts of figures and +flowers. In the centre of the room stood a table spread with cutlets, +cakes, salad, fruit, wine, and confections, enough to make one's mouth +water. Between the windows hung a tall mirror, reaching from the floor +to the ceiling. + +I must say that all this delighted me. I stretched myself once or +twice, and paced the room to and fro with much dignity, after which I +could not resist looking at myself in such a large mirror. Of a truth +Herr Lionardo's new clothes became me well, and I had caught an ardent +expression of eye from the Italians, but otherwise I was just such +a whey-face as I had been at home, with only a soft down on my upper +lip. + +Meanwhile, the old woman ground away with her toothless jaws, as if +she were actually chewing the end of her long nose. She made me sit +down, chucked me under the chin with her lean fingers, called me +"_poverino_," and leered at me so roguishly with her red eyes that one +corner of her mouth twitched half-way up her cheek as she at last left +the room with a low courtesy. + +I sat down at the table, and a young, pretty girl came in to wait on +me. I made all sorts of gallant speeches to her, which she did not +understand, but watched me curiously while I applied myself to +the viands with evident enjoyment; they were delicious. When I had +finished and rose from table, she took a candle and conducted me to +another room, where were a sofa, a small mirror, and a magnificent bed +with green silk curtains. I inquired by signs whether I were to sleep +there. She nodded assent, but I could not undress while she stood +beside me as if she were rooted to the spot. At last I went and got a +large glass of wine from the table in the next room, drank it off, and +wished her "_Felicissima notte_!" for I had managed to learn that much +Italian. But while I was emptying the glass at a draught she suddenly +burst into a fit of suppressed giggling, grew very red, and went into +the next room, closing the door behind her. "What is there to laugh +at?" thought I in a puzzle. "I believe Italians are all crazy." + +Still in anxiety lest the postilion should begin to blow his horn +again, I listened at the window, but all was quiet outside. "Let him +blow!" I thought, undressed myself, and got into the magnificent bed, +where I seemed to be fairly swimming in milk and honey! The old linden +in the court-yard rustled, a rook now and then flew off the roof, and +at last, completely happy, I fell asleep. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +When I awoke, the beams of early morning were shining on the green +curtains of my bed. At first I could not remember where I was. I +seemed to be still driving in the coach, where I had been dreaming +of a castle in the moonlight, and of an old witch and her pale +daughter. + +I sprang hastily out of bed, dressed myself, and, looking about my +room, perceived in the wainscoting a small door, which I had not seen +the night before. It was ajar; I opened it, and saw a pretty little +room looking very fresh and neat in the early dawn. Some articles of +feminine apparel were lying in disorder over the back of a chair, and +in a bed beside it lay the girl who had waited upon me the evening +before. She was sleeping soundly, her head resting upon her bare white +arm, over which her black curls were straying. "How mortified she +would be if she knew that the door was open!" I said to myself, and +I crept back into my room, bolting the door after me, that the girl +might not be horrified and ashamed when she awoke. + +Not a sound was yet to be heard outside, except from an early robin +that was singing his morning song, perched upon a spray growing out of +the wall beneath my window. "No," said I, "you shall not shame me by +singing all alone your early hymn of praise to God!" I hastily fetched +my fiddle, which I had laid upon the table the night before, and left +the room. Everything in the castle was silent as death, and I was a +long while finding my way through the dim corridors out into the open +air. + +There I found myself in a large garden extending half-way down the +mountain, its broad terraces lying one beneath the other like huge +steps. But the gardening was slovenly. The paths were all grass-grown, +the yew figures were not trimmed, but stretched long noses and caps a +yard high into the air like ghosts, so that really they must have been +quite fearsome at nightfall. Linen was hanging to dry on the broken +marble statues of an unused fountain; here and there in the middle +of the garden cabbages were planted beside some common flowers; +everything was neglected, in disorder, and overgrown with tall weeds, +among which glided varicolored lizards. On all sides through the +gigantic old trees there was a distant, lonely prospect of range after +range of mountains stretching as far as the eye could reach. + +After I had been sauntering about through this wilderness for a while +in the dawn, I descried upon the terrace below me, striding to and fro +with folded arms, a tall, slender, pale youth in a long brown surtout. +He seemed not to perceive me, and shortly seated himself upon a stone +bench, took a book out of his pocket, read very loud from it, as if he +were preaching, looked up to heaven at intervals, and leaned his head +sadly upon his right hand. I looked at him for a long time, but at +last I grew curious to know why he was making such extraordinary +gestures, and I went hastily toward him. He had just heaved a profound +sigh, and sprang up startled as I approached. He was completely +confused, and so was I; we neither of us knew what to say, and we +stood there bowing, until he made his escape, striding rapidly through +the shrubbery. Meanwhile, the sun had arisen over the forest; I +mounted on the stone bench, and scraped my fiddle merrily, so that the +quiet valleys reëchoed. The old woman with the bunch of keys, who had +been searching anxiously for me all through the castle to call me to +breakfast, appeared upon the terrace above me, and was surprised that +I could play the fiddle so well. The grim old man from the castle came +too, and was as much amazed, and at last the maids came, and they all +stood up there together agape, while I fingered away, and wielded my +bow in the most artistic manner, playing cadenzas and variations until +I was downright tired. + +The castle was a mighty strange place! No one dreamed of journeying +further. It was no inn or post-station, as I learned from one of the +maids, but belonged to a wealthy count. When I sometimes questioned +the old woman as to the count's name and where he lived, she only +smirked as she had done on the evening of my arrival, and slyly +pinched me and winked at me archly as if she were out of her senses. +If on a warm day I drank a whole bottle of wine, the maids were sure +to giggle when they brought me another; and once when I wanted to +smoke a pipe, and informed them by signs of my desire, they all burst +into a fit of foolish laughter. But most mysterious of all was a +serenade which often, and always upon the darkest nights, sounded +beneath my window. A guitar was played fitfully, soft, low chords +being heard from time to time. Once I imagined I heard some one down +below call up, "Pst! pst!" I sprang out of bed and, putting my head +out of the window, called, "Holla! who's there?" But no answer came; I +only heard the rustling of the shrubbery, as if some one were hastily +running away. The large dog in the court-yard, roused by my shout, +barked a couple of times, and then all was still again. After this the +serenade was heard no more. + +Otherwise my life here was all that mortal could desire. The worthy +Porter knew well what he was talking about when he was wont to declare +that in Italy raisins dropped into one's mouth of themselves. I lived +in the lonely castle like an enchanted prince. Wherever I went the +servants treated me with the greatest respect, though they all knew +that I had not a farthing in my pocket. I had but to say, "Table, +be spread," and lo, I was served with delicious viands, rice, wine, +melons, and Parmesan cheese. I lived on the best, slept in the +magnificent canopied bed, walked in the garden, played my fiddle, and +sometimes helped with the gardening. I often lay for hours in the tall +grass, and the pale youth in his long surtout--he was a student and a +relative of the old woman's, and was spending his vacation here--would +pace around me in a wide circle, muttering from his book like a +conjurer, which was always sure to send me to sleep. Thus day after +day passed, until, what with the good eating and drinking, I began +to grow quite melancholy. My limbs became limp from perpetually doing +nothing, and I felt as if I should fall to pieces from sheer laziness. + +One sultry afternoon, I was sitting in the boughs of a tall tree that +overhung the valley, gently rocking myself above its quiet depths. The +bees were humming among the leaves around me; all else was silent +as the grave; not a human being was to be seen on the mountains, and +below me on the peaceful meadows the cows were resting in the high +grass. But from afar away the note of a post-horn floated across +the wooded heights, at first scarcely audible, then clearer and more +distinct. On the instant my heart reechoed an old song which I had +learned when at home at my father's mill from a traveling journeyman, +and I sang-- + + "Whenever abroad you are straying, + Take with you your dearest one; + While others are laughing and playing, + A stranger is left all alone. + + "And what know these trees, with their sighing, + Of an older, a lovelier day? + Alas, o'er yon blue mountains lying, + Thy home is so far, far away! + + "The stars in their courses I treasure, + My pathway to her they shone o'er; + The nightingale's song gives me pleasure, + It sang nigh my dearest one's door. + + "When starlight and dawn are contending, + I climb to the mountain-tops clear; + Thence gazing, my greeting I'm sending + To Germany, ever most dear." + +It seemed as if the post-horn in the distance would fain accompany +my song. While I was singing, it came nearer and nearer among the +mountains, until at last I heard it in the castle court-yard; I got +down from the tree as quickly as possible, in time to meet the old +woman with an opened packet coming toward me. "Here is something too +for you," she said, and handed me a neat little note. It was without +address; I opened it hastily, and on the instant flushed as red as a +peony, and my heart beat so violently that the old woman observed my +agitation. The note was from--my Lady fair, whose handwriting I had +often seen at the bailiff's. It was short: "All is well once more; all +obstacles are removed. I take a private opportunity to be the first to +write you the good news. Come, hasten back. It is so lonely here, and +I can scarcely bear to live since you left us. Aurelia." + +As I read, my eyes grew dim with rapture, alarm, and ineffable +delight. I was ashamed in presence of the old woman, who began to +smirk and wink odiously, and I flew like an arrow to the loneliest +nook of the garden. There I threw myself on the grass beneath the +hazel-bushes and read the note again, repeating the words by heart, +and then re-reading them over and over, while the sunlight danced +between the leaves upon the letters, so that they were blended and +blurred before my eyes like golden and bright-green and crimson +blossoms. "Is she not married, then?" I thought; "was that young +officer her brother, perhaps, or is he dead, or am I crazy, or--but no +matter!" I exclaimed at last, leaping to my feet. "It is clear enough, +she loves me! she loves me!" + +When I crept out of the shrubbery the sun was near its setting. The +heavens were red, the birds were singing merrily in the woods, +the valleys were full of a golden sheen, but in my heart all was a +thousand times more beautiful and more glad. + +I shouted to them in the castle to serve my supper out in the garden. +The old woman, the grim old man, the maids--I made them all come and +sit at table with me under the trees. I brought out my fiddle and +played, and ate and drank between-whiles. Then they all grew merry; +the old man smoothed the grim wrinkles out of his face, and emptied +glass after glass, the old woman chattered away--heaven knows about +what, and the maids began to dance together on the green-sward. At +last the pale student approached inquisitively, cast a scornful glance +at the party, and was about to pass on with great dignity. But I +sprang up in a twinkling, and, before he knew what I was about, +seized him by his long surtout and waltzed merrily round with him. +He actually began to try to dance after the latest and most approved +fashion, and footed it so nimbly that the moisture stood in beads upon +his forehead, his long coat flew round like a wheel, and he looked +at me so strangely withal, and his eyes rolled so, that I began to be +really afraid of him, and suddenly released him. + +The old woman was very curious to know the contents of the note, +and why I was so very merry of a sudden. But the matter was far too +intricate for me to be able to explain it to her. I merely pointed +to a couple of storks that were sailing through the air far above our +heads, and said that so must I go, far, far away. At this she opened +her bleared eyes wide, and cast a sinister glance first at me and then +at the old man. After that, I noticed as often as I turned away that +they put their heads together and talked eagerly, glancing askance +toward me from time to time. + +This puzzled me. I pondered upon what scheme they could be hatching, +and I grew more quiet. The sun had long set, so I wished them all good +night and betook myself thoughtfully to my bedroom. + +I felt so happy and so restless that for a long while I paced the +apartment to and fro. Outside, the wind was driving black, heavy +clouds high above the castle-tower; the nearest mountain-summit could +be scarcely discerned in the thick darkness. Then I thought I heard +voices in the garden below. I put out my candle and sat down at the +window. The voices seemed to come nearer, speaking in low tones, and +suddenly a long ray of light shot from a small lantern concealed +under the cloak of a dark figure. I instantly recognized the grim old +steward and the old housekeeper. The light flashed in the face of the +old woman, who looked to me more hideous than ever, and upon the blade +of a long knife which she held in her hand. I could plainly see that +both of them were looking up at my window. Then the steward folded his +cloak more closely, and all was dark and silent. + +"What do they want," I thought, "out in the garden, at this hour?" I +shuddered; I could not help recalling all the stories of murders that +I had ever heard--all the tales of witches and robbers who slaughtered +people that they might devour their hearts. Whilst I was filled with +such thoughts, I heard footsteps coming up the stairs softly, then +very softly along the narrow passage directly to my door; and at the +same time I thought I heard voices whispering together. I ran hastily +to the other end of the room and behind a large table, which I could +lift and bang against the door as soon as anything stirred outside. +But in the darkness I upset a chair, which made a tremendous crash. +In an instant all was profound silence outside. I listened behind the +table, staring at the door as if I could pierce it with my eyes, which +felt as if they were starting from my head. When I had kept so quiet +for a while that the buzzing of a fly could have been plainly heard, +I distinguished the sound of a key softly put into the keyhole of my +door on the outside. I was just about to make a demonstration with my +table, when the key was turned slowly three times round in the lock, +and then cautiously withdrawn, after which the footsteps retreated +along the passage and down the staircase. + +I took a long breath. "Oho!" I thought, "they have locked me up that +all may be easy when I am sound asleep." I tried the door, and found +it locked, as was also the other door, behind which the pale maid +slept. This had never been so before since I had been at the castle. + +Here was I imprisoned in a foreign land! The Lady fair undoubtedly was +even now standing at her window and looking across the quiet garden +toward the high-road, to see if I were not coming from the toll-house +with my fiddle. The clouds were scudding across the sky; time was +passing--and I could not get away. Ah, but my heart was sore; I did +not know what to do. And if the leaves rustled outside, or a rat +gnawed behind the wainscot, I fancied I saw the old woman gliding in +by a secret door and creeping softly through the room, with that long +knife in hand. + +As, given over to such fancies, I sat on the side of my bed, I heard, +the first time for a long while, the music beneath my window. At the +first twang of the guitar a ray of light darted into my soul. I opened +the window, and called down softly, that I was awake. "Pst, pst!" was +the answer from below. Without more ado, I thrust the note into my +pocket, took my fiddle, got out of the window, and scrambled down the +ruinous old wall, clinging to the vines growing from the crevices. +One or two crumbling stones gave way, and I began to slide faster and +faster, until at last I came down upon my feet with such a sudden bump +that my teeth rattled in my head. + +Scarcely had I thus reached the garden when I felt myself embraced +with such violence that I screamed aloud. My kind friend, however, +clapped his hand on my mouth, and, taking my arm, led me through the +shrubbery to the open lawn. Here, to my astonishment, I recognized the +tall student, who had a guitar slung around his neck by a broad silk +ribbon. I explained to him as quickly as possible that I wished to +escape from the garden. He seemed perfectly aware of my wishes, and +conducted me by various covert pathways to the lower door in the high +garden wall. But when we reached it, it was fast locked! The student, +however, seemed to be quite prepared for this; he produced a large key +and cautiously unlocked it. + +When we found ourselves in the forest, and I was about to inquire of +him the best road to the nearest town, he suddenly fell upon one knee +before me, raised a hand aloft, and began to curse and to swear in the +most horrible manner. I could not imagine what he wanted; I could +hear frequent repetitions of "_Iddio_" and "_cuore_" and "_amore_" and +"_furore_!" But when he began hobbling close up to me on both knees, +I grew positively terrified, I perceived clearly that he had lost his +wits, and I fled into the depths of the forest without looking back. + +I heard the student behind me shouting like one possessed, and soon +afterward a rough voice from the castle shouting in reply. I was sure +they would pursue me. The road was entirely unknown to me; the night +was dark; I should probably fall into their hands. Therefore I climbed +up into a tall tree to await my opportunity to escape. + +From here I could distinguish one voice after another calling in the +castle. Several links appeared in the garden, and cast a weird lurid +light over the old walls and down the mountain out into the black +night. I commended my soul to the Almighty, for the confused uproar +grew louder and nearer. At last the student, bearing aloft a torch, +ran past my tree below me so fast that the skirt of his surtout flew +out behind him in the wind. After this the tumult gradually retreated +to the other side of the mountain; the voices sounded more and more +distant, and at last the wind alone sighed through the silent forest. +I then descended from my tree and ran breathless down into the valley +and out into the night. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +I hurried on for the rest of the night and the next day, for there was +a din in my ears for a long time, as if all the people from the castle +were after me, shouting, waving torches, and brandishing long knives. +On the way I learned that I was only five or six miles from Rome, +whereat I could have jumped for joy. As a child at home I had heard +wonderful stories of gorgeous Rome, and as I lay on my back in the +grass on Sunday afternoons near the mill, and everything around was so +quiet, I used to picture Rome out of the clouds sailing above me, with +wondrous mountains and abysses, around the blue sea, with golden gates +and lofty gleaming towers, where angels in shining robes were singing. + +The night had come again, and the moon shone brilliantly, when at +last I emerged from the forest upon a hilltop, and saw the city lying +before me in the distance. The sea gleamed afar off, the heavens +glittered with innumerable stars, and beneath them lay the Holy City, +a long strip of mist, like a slumbering lion on the quiet earth, +watched and guarded by mountains around like shadowy giants. + +I soon reached an extensive, lonely heath, where all was gray and +silent as the grave. Here and there a ruined wall was still standing, +or some strangely-gnarled trunk of a tree; now and then night-birds +whirred through the air, and my own shadow glided long and black in +the solitude beside me. They say that a primeval city lies buried +here, and that Frau Venus makes it her abode, and that sometimes the +old pagans rise up from their graves and wander about the heath and +mislead travelers. I cared nothing, however, for such tales, but +walked on steadily, for the city arose before me more and more +distinct and magnificent, and the high castles and gates and golden +domes gleamed wondrously in the moonlight, as if angels in golden +garments were actually standing on the roofs and singing in the quiet +night. + +At last I passed some humble houses, and then through a gorgeous +gate-way into the famous city of Rome. The moon shone bright as day +among the palaces, but the streets were empty, except for some lazy +fellow lying dead asleep on a marble step in the warm night air. +The fountains plashed in the silent squares, and from the gardens +bordering the street the trees added their murmur, and filled the air +with refreshing fragrance. + +As I was sauntering on, not knowing--what with delight, moonlight, and +fragrance--which way to turn, I heard a guitar touched in the depths +of a garden. "Great heavens!" I thought, "the crazy student with his +long surtout has been secretly following me all this time." But in +a moment a lady in the garden began to sing deliciously. I stood +spellbound; it was the voice of the Lady fair! and the selfsame +Italian song which she often used to sing at her open window! + +Then the dear old time recurred so vividly to my mind that I could +have wept bitterly; I saw the quiet garden before the castle in the +early dawn, and thought how happy I had been among the shrubbery +before that stupid fly flew up my nose. I could restrain myself no +longer, but clambered over the gilded ornaments surmounting the grated +gate-way and leaped down into the garden whence the song proceeded. As +I did so I perceived a slender white figure standing in the distance +behind a poplar-tree, looking at me in amazement; but in an instant it +had turned and fled through the dim garden toward the house so quickly +that in the moonlight it seemed to glide. "It was she, herself!" I +exclaimed, and my heart throbbed with delight; I recognized her on the +instant by her pretty little fleet feet. It was unfortunate that in +clambering over the gate I had slightly twisted my ankle, and had to +limp along for a minute or two before I could run after her toward +the house. In the meanwhile the doors and windows had been closed. I +knocked modestly, listened, and then knocked again. I seemed to hear +low laughter and whispering within the house, and once I was almost +sure that a pair of bright eyes peeped between the jalousies in the +moonlight. But finally all was silent. + +"She does not know that it is I," I thought; I took out my fiddle, and +promenaded to and fro on the path before the house and sang the song +of the Lady fair and played over all my songs that I had been wont +to play on lovely summer nights in the castle garden, or on the +bench before the toll-house so that the sound should reach the castle +windows. But it was all of no use; no one stirred in the entire house. +Then I put away my fiddle sadly, and seated myself upon the door-step, +for I was very weary with my long march. The night was warm; the +flower-beds before the house sent forth a delicious fragrance, and a +fountain somewhere in the depths of the garden plashed continuously. I +thought dreamily of azure flowers, of dim, green, lovely, lonely spots +where brooks were rippling and gay birds singing, until at last I fell +sound asleep. + +When I awoke the fresh air of morning was playing over me; the birds +were already awake and twittering in the trees around, as if they were +making game of me. I started up and looked about; the fountain in +the garden was still playing, but nothing was to be heard within the +house. I peeped through the green blinds into one of the rooms, where +I could see a sofa and a large round table covered with gray linen. +The chairs were all standing against the wall in perfect order; +the blinds were down at all the windows, as if the house had been +uninhabited for example, with many a loving thought of my fair, +distant home. + +Meanwhile, the painter had arranged near the window one of the frames +upon which a large piece of paper was stretched. An old hovel was +cleverly drawn in charcoal upon the paper, and within it sat the +Blessed Virgin with a lovely, happy face, upon which there was withal +a shade of melancholy. At her feet in a little nest of straw lay the +Infant Jesus--very lovely, with large serious eyes. Without, upon the +threshold of the open door were kneeling two shepherd lads with staff +and wallet. "You see," said the painter, "I am going to put your head +upon one of these shepherds, and so people will know your face and, +please God, take pleasure in it long after we are both under the sod, +and are ourselves kneeling happily before the Blessed Mother and her +Son like those shepherd lads." Then he seized an old chair, the back +of which came off in his hand as he lifted it. He soon fitted it into +its place again, however, pushed it in front of the frame, and I had +to sit down on it, and turn my face sideways to him. I sat thus +for some minutes perfectly still, without stirring. After a while, +however--I am sure I do not know why--I felt that I could endure it +no longer; every part of me began to twitch, and besides, there hung +directly in front of me a piece of broken looking-glass into which I +could not help glancing perpetually, making all sorts of grimaces from +sheer weariness. The painter, noticing this, burst into a laugh, and +waved his hand to signify that I might leave my chair. My face upon +the paper was already finished, and was so exactly like me that I was +immensely pleased with it. + +The young man went on painting in the cool morning, singing as he +worked, and sometimes looking from the open window at the glorious +landscape. I, in the meantime, spread myself another piece of bread +and butter, and walked up and down the room, looking at the pictures +leaning against the wall. Two of them pleased me especially. "Did you +paint these, too?" I asked the painter. "Not exactly," he replied. +"They are by the famous masters Leonardo da Vinci and Guido Reni; but +you know nothing about them." I was nettled by the conclusion of his +remark. "Oh," I rejoined very composedly, "I know those two masters as +well as I know myself." He opened his eyes at this. "How so?" he +asked hastily. "Well," said I, "I traveled with them day and night, on +horseback, on foot, and driving at a pace that made the wind whistle +in my ears, and I lost them both at an inn, and then traveled post +alone in their coach, which went bumping on two wheels over the rocks, +and--" "Oho! oho!" the painter interrupted me, staring at me as if he +thought me mad. Then he suddenly burst into a fit of laughter. "Ah," +he cried, "now I begin to understand. You traveled with two painters +called Guido and Lionardo?" When I assented, he sprang up and looked +me all over from head to foot. "I verily believe," he said "that +actually--Can you play the violin?" I struck the pocket of my coat so +that my fiddle gave forth a tone, and the painter went on: "There was +a Countess here lately from Germany, who made inquiries in every nook +and corner of Rome for those two painters and a young musician with a +fiddle." "A young Countess from Germany!" I cried in an ecstasy. "Was +the Porter with her?" "Ah, that I do not know," replied the painter. +"I saw her only once or twice at the house of one of her friends, +who does not live in the city. Do you know this face?" he went on, +suddenly lifting the covering from a large picture standing in a +corner. In an instant I felt as we do when in a dark room the shutters +are opened and the rising sun flashes in our eyes. It was--the lovely +Lady fair! She was standing in the garden, in a black velvet gown, +lifting her veil from her face with one hand, and looking abroad +over a distant and beautiful landscape. The longer I looked the more +vividly did it seem to be the castle garden, and the flowers and +boughs waved in the wind, while in the depths of green I could see +my little toll-house, and the high-road, and the Danube, and in the +distance the blue mountains. + +"'Tis she! 'tis she!" I exclaimed at last, and, seizing my hat, I +ran out of the door and down the long staircase, while the astonished +painter called after me to come back toward evening, and we might +perhaps learn something more. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +I ran in a great hurry through the city to present myself immediately +at the house, in the garden of which the Lady fair had been singing +yesterday evening. The streets were full of people; gentlemen and +ladies were enjoying the sunshine and exchanging greetings, elegant +coaches rolled past, and the bells in all the towers were summoning +to mass, making wondrous melody in the air above the heads of the +swarming crowd. I was intoxicated with delight, and with the hubbub, +and ran on in my joy until at last I had no idea where I was. It was +like enchantment; the quiet Square with the fountain, and the garden +and the house, seemed the fabric of a dream, which had vanished in the +clear light of day. + +I could not make any inquiries, for I did not know the name of the +Square. At last it began to be very sultry; the sun's rays darted down +upon the pavement like burning arrows, people crept into their houses, +the blinds everywhere were closed, and the street became once more +silent and dead. I threw myself down in despair in front of a fine, +large house with a balcony resting upon pillars and affording a deep +shade, and surveyed, first the quiet city, which looked absolutely +weird in its sudden noonday solitude, and anon the deep blue, +perfectly cloudless sky, until, tired out, I fell asleep. I dreamed +that I was lying in a lonely green meadow near my native village; a +warm summer rain was falling and glittering in the sun, which was just +setting behind the mountains, and whenever the raindrops fell upon the +grass they turned into beautiful, bright flowers, so that I was soon +covered with them. + +What was my astonishment when I awoke to find a quantity of beautiful, +fresh flowers lying upon me and beside me! I sprang up, but could see +nothing unusual, except that in the house above me there was a window +filled with fragrant shrubs and flowers, behind which a parrot talked +and screamed incessantly. I picked up the scattered flowers, tied them +together, and stuck the nosegay in my button-hole. Then I began to +discourse with the parrot; it amused me to see him get up and down in +his gilded cage with all sorts of odd twists and turns of his head, +and always stepping awkwardly over his own toes. But before I was +aware of it he was scolding me for a _furfante_! Even though it were +only a senseless bird, it irritated me. I scolded him back; we both +got angry; the more I scolded in German, the more he abused me in +Italian. + +Suddenly I heard some one laughing behind me. I turned quickly, and +perceived the painter of the morning. "What nonsense are you at now!" +he said. "I have been waiting for you for half an hour. The air has +grown cooler: we will go to a garden in the suburbs where you will +find several fellow-countrymen, and perhaps learn something further of +the German Countess." + +I was charmed with this proposal, and we set out immediately, the +parrot screaming out abuse of me as I left him. + +After we had walked for a long while outside of the city, ascending by +a narrow, stony pathway an eminence dotted with villas and vineyards, +we reached a small garden very high up, where several young men and +maidens were sitting in the open air about a round table. As soon +as we made our appearance they all signed to us to keep silence, +and pointed toward the other end of the garden, where in a large, +vine-wreathed arbor two beautiful ladies were sitting opposite each +other at a table. One was singing, while the other accompanied her +on the guitar. Between them stood a pleasant-looking gentleman, who +occasionally beat time with a small baton. The setting sun shone +through the vine-leaves, upon the fruits and flasks of wine with which +the table was provided, and upon the plump, white shoulders of the +lady with the guitar. The other one grimaced so that she looked +convulsed, but she sang in Italian in so extremely artistic a manner +that the sinews in her neck stood out like cords. + +Just as she was executing a long cadenza with her eyes turned up to +the skies, while the gentleman beside her held his baton suspended in +the air waiting the moment when she would fall into the beat again, +the garden gate was flung open, and a girl looking very much heated, +and a young man with a pale, delicate face, entered, quarreling +violently. The conductor, startled, stood with raised baton like a +petrified conjurer, although the singer had some time before snapped +short her long trill and had arisen angrily from the table. All the +others turned upon the new arrivals in a rage. "You savage," some one +at the round table called out, "you have interrupted the most perfect +tableau of the description which the late Hoffmann gives on page 347 +of the _Ladies' Annual_ for 1816 of the finest of Hummel's pictures +exhibited in the autumn of 1814 at the Berlin Art-Exposition!" But +it did no good. "What do I care," the young man retorted, "for your +tableau of tableaux! My picture any one may have; my sweetheart I +choose to keep for myself. Oh, you faithless, false-hearted girl!" he +went on to his poor companion, "you fine critic to whom a painter is +nothing but a tradesman, and a poet only a money-maker; you care for +nothing save flirtation! May you fall to the lot, not of an honest +artist, but of an old Duke with a diamond-mine and beplastered with +gold and silver foil! Out with the cursed note that you tried to hide +from me! What have you been scribbling? From whom did it come, or to +whom is it going?" + +But the girl resisted him steadfastly, and the more the other young +men present tried to soothe and pacify the angry lover, the more +he scolded and threatened; particularly as the girl herself did not +restrain her little tongue, until at last she extricated herself, +weeping aloud, from the confused coil, and unexpectedly threw herself +into my arms for protection. I immediately assumed the correct +attitude; but since the rest paid no attention to us, she suddenly +composed her face and whispered hastily in my ear, "You odious +Receiver! it is all on your account. There, stuff the wretched note +into your pocket; you will find out from it where we live. When you +approach the gate, at the appointed hour, turn into the lonely street +on the right hand." + +I was too much amazed to utter a word, for, now that I looked closely, +I recognized her at once; actually it was the pert lady's-maid of +the Castle who had brought me the flask of wine on that lovely Sunday +afternoon. She never looked as pretty as now, when, heated by her +quarrel, she leaned against my shoulder, and her black curls hung down +over my arm. "But, dear ma'amselle," I said in astonishment, "how do +you come--" "For heaven's sake, hush!--be quiet!" she replied, and in +an instant, before I could fairly collect myself, she had left me and +had fled across the garden. + +Meanwhile, the others had almost entirely forgotten the original cause +of the turmoil, and now took a pleasing interest in proving to the +young man that he was intoxicated--a great disgrace for an honorable +painter. The stout, smiling gentleman from the arbor, who was--as I +afterward learned--a great connoisseur and patron of Art, and who was +always ready to lend his aid for the love of Science, had thrown aside +his baton, and showed his broad face, fairly shining with good humor, +in the midst of the thickest confusion, zealously striving to restore +peace and order, but regretting between-whiles the loss of the long +cadenza, and of the beautiful tableau which he had taken such pains to +arrange. + +In my heart all was as serenely bright as on that blissful Sunday when +I had played on my fiddle far into the night at the open window where +stood the flask of wine. Since the rumpus showed no signs of abating, +I hastily pulled out my violin, and without more ado played an Italian +dance, popular among the mountains, which I had learned at the old +castle in the forest. + +All turned their heads to listen. "Bravo! Bravissimo! A delicious +idea!" cried the merry connoisseur of Art, running from one to another +to arrange a rustic _divertissement_, as he called it. He made a +beginning himself by leading out the lady who had played the guitar +in the arbor. Thereupon he began to dance with extraordinary artistic +skill, and describe all sorts of letters on the grass with the points +of his toes, really trilling with his feet, and now and then jumping +pretty high in the air. But he soon had enough of it, for he was +rather corpulent. His jumps grew fewer and clumsier, until at last he +withdrew from the circle, puffing violently, and mopping the moisture +from his forehead with a snowy pocket-handkerchief. Meanwhile, the +young man, who had regained his composure, brought from the inn some +castanets, and before I was aware all were dancing merrily beneath the +trees. The sun had set, but the crimson sky in the west cast bright +reflections among the shadows, and upon the old walls and the +half-buried columns covered with ivy in the depths of the garden, +while below the vineyards we could see the Eternal City bathed in the +evening glow. The dance in the still, clear air was charming, and +my heart within me laughed to see how the slender girls and the +lady's-maid glided among the trees with arms upraised like heathen +wood-nymphs, and kept time to the music with their castanets. At last +I could no longer restrain myself; I joined their ranks, and danced +away merrily, still fiddling all the time. + +I had been hopping about thus for some minutes, not noticing that the +others were beginning to be tired and were dropping out of the +dance, when I felt some one twitch me by the coat-tail. It was the +lady's-maid. "Don't be a fool," she said under her breath; "you are +jumping about like a kid! Read your note, and come soon; the beautiful +young Countess awaits you." She slipped out of the garden in the +twilight and vanished among the vineyards. + +My heart beat fast; I longed to follow her. Fortunately, a waiter was +just lighting the lantern over the garden gate. I took out my note, +which contained a somewhat rudely penciled plan of the gate and the +streets leading to it, just as I had been directed by the lady's-maid, +and in addition the words "Eleven o'clock, at the little door." + +Two long hours to wait! Nevertheless I should have set out +immediately, for I could not stay still, had not the painter, who had +brought me hither, rushed up. "Did you speak to the girl?" he asked. +"I cannot see her now. It was the German Countess's maid." "Hush, +hush!" I replied; "the Countess is still in Rome." "So much the +better," said the painter; "come then and drink her health." And in +spite of all I could say he forced me to return to the garden with +him. + +It looked quite deserted. The merry company had departed, and were +sauntering toward Rome, each lad with his lass upon his arm. We +could hear them talking and laughing among the vineyards in the quiet +evening, until at last their voices died away in the valley below, +lost in the rustling of the trees and the murmur of the stream. I +stayed with my painter and Herr Eckbrecht, which was the name of the +other young painter who had been quarreling with the maid. The moon +shone brilliantly through the tall, dark evergreens; a candle on the +table before us flickered in the breeze and gleamed over the wine +spilled copiously around it. I had to sit down with my companions, and +my painter chatted with me about my native village, my travels, and +my plans for the future. Herr Eckbrecht had seated upon his knee the +pretty girl who had brought us our wine, and was teaching her the +accompaniment of a song on the guitar. Her slender fingers soon picked +out the correct chords, and they sang together an Italian song; +first he sang a verse, and then the girl sang the next; it sounded +deliciously, in the clear, bright evening. When the girl was called +away, Herr Eckbrecht, taking no further notice of us, leaned back on +his bench with his feet on a low stool and played and sang many an +exquisite song. The stars glittered; the landscape turned to silver in +the moonlight; I thought of the Lady fair, and of my far-off home, and +quite forgot the painter at my side. Herr Eckbrecht had occasionally +to tune his instrument; whereat he grew downright angry, and at last +he screwed a string so tight that it broke, whereupon he tossed aside +the guitar and sprang to his feet, noticing for the first time that +my painter had laid his head on his arm upon the table and was fast +asleep. He hastily wrapped around him a white cloak which hung on a +bough near by, then suddenly paused, glanced keenly at my painter, and +then at me several times, then seated himself on the table directly +in front of me, cleared his throat, settled his cravat, and instantly +began to hold forth to me. "Beloved hearer and fellow-countryman," +he said, "since the bottles are nearly empty, and morality is +indisputably the first duty of a citizen when the virtues are on the +wane, I feel myself moved, out of sympathy for a fellow-countryman, +to present for your consideration a few moral axioms. It might be +supposed," he went on, "that you are a mere youth, whereas your coat +has evidently seen its best years; it might be supposed that you had +leaped about like a satyr; nay, some might maintain that you are a +vagabond, because you are out here in the country and play the fiddle; +but I am influenced by no such superficial considerations; I form my +judgment on your delicately chiseled nose; I take you for a strolling +genius." His ambiguous phrases irritated me; I was about to retort +sharply. But he gave me no chance to speak. "Observe," he said, "how +you are puffed up by a modicum of praise. Retire within yourself +and ponder upon your perilous vocation. We geniuses--for I am one +too--care as little for the world as it cares for us; without any ado, +in the seven-league boots which we bring into the world with us, we +stride on directly into eternity. A most lamentable, inconvenient +straddling position this--one leg in the future, where nothing is to +be discerned but the rosy morn and the faces of future children, the +other leg still in the middle of Rome, in the Piazza del Popolo, +where the entire present century would fain seize the opportunity to +advance, and clings to the boot tight enough to pull the leg off! And +then all this restlessness, wine-bibbing, and hunger solely for an +immortal eternity! And look you at my comrade there on the bench, +another genius; his time hangs heavy on his hands here and now, what +under heaven is he to do in eternity? Yes, my highly-esteemed comrade, +you and I and the sun rose early together this morning, and have +pondered and painted all day long, and it was all beautiful--and now +the drowsy night passes its furred sleeve over the world and wipes +out all the colors." He kept on talking for a long while, his hair all +disheveled with dancing and drinking, and his face looking deadly pale +in the moonlight. + +But I was seized with a horror of him and of his wild talk, and when +he turned and addressed the sleeping painter I took advantage of the +opportunity and slipped round the table, without being perceived +by him, and out of the garden. Thence, alone and glad at heart, I +descended through the vine-trellises into the wide moonlit valley. + +The clocks in the city were striking ten. Behind me, in the quiet +night, I still heard an occasional note of the guitar, and at times +the voices of the two painters, going home at last, were audible. I +ran on as quickly as possible, that they might not overtake me. + +At the city-gate I turned into the street on the right hand, and +hurried on with a throbbing heart among the silent houses and gardens. +To my amazement, I suddenly found myself in the very Square with the +fountain, for which, by daylight, I had vainly searched. There stood +the solitary summer-house again in the glorious moonlight, and again +the Lady fair was singing the same Italian song as on the evening +before. In an ecstasy I tried first the low door, then the house door, +and at last the big garden gate, but all were locked. Then first it +occurred to me that eleven had not yet struck. I was irritated by the +slow flight of time, but good manners forbade my climbing over the +garden gate as I had done yesterday. Therefore I paced the lonely +Square to and fro for a while, and at last again seated myself upon +the basin of the fountain and resigned myself to meditation and calm +expectancy. + +The stars twinkled in the skies; the Square was quiet and deserted; I +listened with delight to the song of the Lady fair, as it mingled with +the ripple of the fountain. All at once I perceived a white figure +approach from the opposite side of the Square and go directly +toward the little garden door. I peered eagerly through the dazzling +moonlight--it was the queer painter in his white cloak. He drew forth +a key quickly, unlocked the door, and, before I knew it, was within +the garden. + +I had from the first entertained a special dislike of this painter on +account of his nonsensical talk. But now I fell into a rage with him. +"The low fellow is certainly intoxicated again," I thought; "he has +got the key from the maid, and intends to surprise, and perhaps to +assault, the Lady fair." And I rushed precipitately through the low +door, which was still open, into the garden. + +When I entered, all was quiet and lonely. The folding-doors of the +summer-house were open, and a ray of lamplight issuing from it played +upon the grass and flowers near. Even from a distance I could see the +interior. In a magnificent apartment, hung with green and partially +illumined by a lamp with a white shade, the lovely Lady fair with +her guitar was reclining on a silken lounge, never dreaming, in her +innocence, of the danger without. + +I had not much time, however, to look, for I perceived the white +figure among the shrubbery, stealthily approaching the summer-house +from the opposite side, while the song floating on the air from the +house was so melancholy that it went to my very soul. I therefore took +no long time for reflection, but broke off a stout bough from a tree, +and rushed at the white-cloaked figure, shouting "Murder!" so that the +garden rang again. + +The painter when he beheld me appear thus unexpectedly took to his +heels, screaming frightfully. I screamed louder still. He ran toward +the house, and I after him, and I had very nearly caught him, when I +became entangled in some plaguy trailing vines, and measured my length +upon the ground just before the front door. + +"So it is you, is it, you fool!" I heard some one say above me. "You +frightened me nearly to death." I picked myself up, and when I had +wiped my eyes clear of dust, I saw before me the lady's-maid, from +whose shoulders the white cloak was just falling. "But," said I, in +confusion, "was not the painter here?" "He was," she replied, saucily; +"at least his cloak was, which he put around me when I met him at the +gate, because I was cold." The Lady fair, hearing the noise, sprang +up from the lounge and came out to us. My heart beat as if it would +burst; but what was my dismay when I looked at her, and instead of the +lovely Lady fair saw an entire stranger! + +She was a rather tall, stout lady, with a haughty, hooked nose and +high-arched black eyebrows, very beautiful and imposing. She looked +at me so majestically out of her big, glittering eyes that I was +overwhelmed with awe. So confused was I that I could only make bow +after bow, and at last I attempted to kiss her hand. But she snatched +it from me, and said something in Italian to her maid which I could +not understand. + +Meanwhile, the racket I had made had aroused the entire neighborhood. +Dogs barked, children screamed, and men's voices were heard, +approaching the garden. The Lady gave me another glance, as though she +would have liked to pierce me through and through with fiery bullets, +then turned hastily and went into the room, with a haughty, forced +laugh, slamming the door directly in my face. The maid seized me by +the sleeve and pulled me toward the garden gate. + +"Your stupidity is beyond belief!" she said in the most spiteful way +as we went along. I too was furious. "What the devil did you mean," +I said, "by telling me to come here?" "That's just it!" exclaimed +the girl. "My Countess favored you so--first threw flowers out of +the window to you, sang songs--and _this_ is her reward! But there is +absolutely nothing to be done with you; you positively throw away +your luck." "But," I rejoined, "I meant the Countess from Germany, +the lovely Lady fair--" "Oh," she interrupted me, "she went back to +Germany long ago, with your crazy passion for her. And you'd better +run after her! No doubt she is pining for you, and you can play the +fiddle together and gaze at the moon, only for pity's sake let me see +no more of you!" + +All was confusion about us by this time. People from the next garden +were climbing over the fence armed with clubs, others were searching +among the paths and avenues; frightened faces in nightcaps appeared +here and there in the moonlight; it seemed as if the devil had let +loose upon us a mob of evil spirits. The lady's-maid was nowise +daunted. "There, there goes the thief!" she called out to the people, +pointing across the garden. Then she pushed me out of the gate and +clapped it to behind me. + +There I stood once more beneath the stars in the deserted Square, +as forlorn as when I had seen it first the day before. The fountain, +which had but now seemed to sparkle as merrily in the moonlight as if +cherubs were flitting up and down in it, plashed on, but all joy and +happiness were buried beneath its waters. I determined to turn my back +forever on treacherous Italy, with its crazy painters, its oranges, +and its lady's-maids, and that very hour I wandered forth through the +gate. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + On guard the faithful mountains stand: + "Who wanders o'er the moorland there + From other climes, in morning fair?" + And as I look far o'er the land, + For very glee my heart laughs out. + The joyous "vivats" then I shout; + Watchword and battle-cry shall be: + Austria, for thee! + + The landscape far and near I know; + The birds and brooks and forests fair + Send me their greetings on the air; + The Danube sparkles down below; + St. Stephen's spire far in the blue + Seems waving me a welcome too. + Warm to its core my heart shall be, + Austria, for thee! + + +I was standing on the summit of a mountain whence the first view of +Austria can be had, and I waved my hat joyfully in the air as I sang +the last verse, when suddenly from the forest behind me some fine +instrumental music joined in. I turned quickly and perceived three +young fellows in long blue cloaks, one playing a hautboy, another a +clarionet, and the third, who wore an old three-cornered hat, a horn. +They played an accompaniment to my song, which made the woods ring +again. I, nothing loath, took out my fiddle, and played and sang with +a will. Then one glanced meaningly at the others; he who played the +horn stopped puffing out his cheeks and took the instrument down from +his mouth; at last they all ceased playing, and stared at me. I ended +my performance also, and in turn stared at them. "We supposed," the +cornetist said at last, "from the length of the gentleman's coat that +he was a traveling Englishman, journeying afoot here to admire the +beauties of nature, and we thought we might perhaps earn a trifle for +our own travels. But the gentleman seems to be a musician himself." +"Properly speaking, a Receiver," I interposed, "and I come at present +directly from Rome; but, as it is some time since I received anything, +I have paid my way with my violin." "'Tis not worth much nowadays," +said the cornetist, as he betook himself to the woods again, and +began fanning with his cocked hat a fire that they had kindled there. +"Wind-instruments are more profitable," he continued. "When a noble +family is seated quietly at their mid-day meal, and we unexpectedly +enter their vaulted vestibule and all three begin to blow with all our +might, a servant is sure to come running out to us with money or food, +just to get rid of the noise. But will you not share our repast?" + +The fire in the forest was burning cheerily, the morning was fresh; we +all sat down on the grass, and two of the musicians took from the fire +a can in which there was coffee with milk. Then they brought forth +some bread from the pockets of their cloaks, and each dipped it in the +can and drank turn about with such relish that it was a pleasure to +see them. But the cornetist said, "I never could endure the black +slops," and, after handing me a huge slice of bread and butter, he +brought out a bottle of wine, from which he offered me a draught. I +took a good pull at it, but had to put it down in a hurry with my face +all of a pucker, for it tasted like "old Gooseberry." "The wine of +the country," said the cornetist; "but Italy has probably spoilt your +German taste." + +Then he rummaged in his wallet, and finally produced from among all +sorts of rubbish an old, tattered map of the country, in the corner +of which the emperor in his royal robes was still to be discerned, a +sceptre in his right hand, the orb in his left. This map he carefully +spread out upon the ground; the others drew nearer, and they all +consulted together as to their route. + +"The vacation is nearly over," said one; "let us turn to the left as +soon as we leave Linz, so as to be in Prague in time." "Upon my word!" +exclaimed the cornetist. "Whom do you propose to pipe to on that road? +Nobody there save wood-choppers and charcoal-burners; no culture nor +taste for art--no station where one can spend a night for nothing!" +"Oh, nonsense!" rejoined the other. "I like the peasants best; +they know where the shoe pinches, and are not so particular if +you sometimes blow a false note." "That is, you have no _point +d'honneur_," said the cornetist. "_Odi profanum vulgus et arceo_, as +the Latin has it." "Well, there must be some churches on the road," +struck in the third; "we can stop at the Herr Pastors'." "No, I thank +you," said the cornetist; "they give little money, but long sermons on +the folly of philandering about the world when we might be acquiring +knowledge, and they wax specially eloquent when they sniff in me a +future member of their fraternity. No, no, _clericus clericum non +decimat_. But why be in such a hurry? The Herr Professors are still +at Carlsbad, and are sure not to be precise about the very day." "Nay, +_distinguendum est inter et inter_," replied the other; "_quod licet +Jovi, non licet bovi_!" + +I now saw that they were students from Prague, and I conceived a +great respect for them, especially as they spoke Latin like their +mother-tongue. "Is the gentleman a student?" the cornetist asked me. I +replied modestly that I had always been very fond of study, but that I +had had no money. "That's of no consequence," said the cornetist; "we +have neither money nor rich patrons, but we get along by mother-wit. +_Aurora musis amica_, which means, being interpreted, 'Do not waste +too much time at breakfast.' But when the bells at noon echo from +tower to tower, and from mountain to mountain, and the scholars crowd +out of the old dark lecture-room, and swarm shouting through the +streets, we betake us to the Capuchin monastery, to the father who +presides in the refectory, where there is sure to be a table spread +for us, or if not actually spread, there will be at least a dish +apiece, and we fall to, and perfect ourselves at the same time in our +Latin. So you see we study right ahead from day to day. And when at +last the vacation comes, and all the others depart for their homes, +by coach or on horseback, then we stroll forth through the streets and +through the city gate with our instruments under our cloaks and the +world before us." + +I can't tell how it was, but, while he spoke, the thought that such +learned people were so forlorn and forsaken in this world went to +my very heart. And then I thought of myself, and how I was not much +better off, and the tears came into my eyes. The cornetist eyed me +askance. "I wouldn't give a fig," he went on, "to travel with horses, +and coffee, and freshly-made beds, and nightcaps and boot-jacks, all +ordered beforehand. It's just the delightful part of it that, when +we set out early in the morning, and the birds of passage are winging +their flight high in the air above us, we do not know what chimney is +smoking for us today, and can never foresee what special piece of luck +may befall us before evening." "Yes," said the other, "and wherever we +go, and take out our instruments, people are merry; and when we play +at noon in the vestibule of some great country-house, the maids will +dance before the door, and their masters and mistresses will have the +drawing-room door opened a little, the better to hear the music, and +the clatter of plates and the smell of the roast float out through the +chink, and the young misses at table well-nigh twist their necks off +to see the musicians outside." "That's true!" exclaimed the cornetist, +with sparkling eyes. "Let who will pore over their compendiums, we +choose to study in the vast picture-book which the dear God spreads +open before us! Yes, the gentleman may believe me, we make the right +sort of fellows, who know how to preach to the peasants from the +pulpit and to bang the cushion, so that the clodpoles down below are +ready to burst with humiliation and edification." + +At hearing them talk thus, I became so pleased and interested that I +longed to be a student too. I could have listened forever, for I enjoy +the conversation of men of learning, from whom much is to be gained. +But we had no real, sensible conversation, for one of the students +was worried because the vacation was so nearly at an end. He put his +clarionet together, set up a sheet of music on his knees, and began to +practice a difficult passage from a mass which was to be played when +they returned to Prague. There he sat and fingered and played away, +sometimes so false that it fairly pierced your ears and you couldn't +hear your own voice. + +Suddenly the cornetist exclaimed in his bass tones, "I have it!" and +down came his fist on the map before him. The other stopped practising +for a moment, and looked at him in surprise. "Hark ye," said the +cornetist, "there is a castle not far from Vienna, and in that +castle there is a porter, and that porter is my cousin! Dearest +fellow-students, that must be our goal; we must pay our respects to +my cousin, and he will arrange for our further journey." When I heard +that, I sprang to my feet. "Doesn't he play on the bassoon?" I +cried. "Is he not tall and straight, with a big, prominent nose?" The +cornetist nodded, upon which I embraced him so enthusiastically that +his three-cornered hat fell off, and we all immediately determined +to take the mail-boat on the Danube to the castle of the beautiful +Countess. + +When we arrived at the wharf all was ready for departure. The fat host +before whose inn the ship had lain all night was standing broad and +cheery in his door-way, which he quite filled, shouting out all sorts +of jokes and farewell speeches, while from every window a girl's head +was poked out nodding to the sailors, who were just carrying the last +packages aboard. An elderly gentleman with a gray overcoat and a +black neckerchief, who was also going in the boat, stood on the shore +talking very earnestly with a slim young fellow in leather breeches +and a trig scarlet jacket, mounted on a magnificent chestnut. To my +great surprise, they seemed to glance at times toward me, and to be +speaking of me. At last the old gentleman laughed, and the slim young +fellow cracked his riding-whip and galloped off through the fresh +morning across the shining landscape, with the larks soaring above +him. + +Meanwhile, the students and I had combined our resources. The +captain laughed and shook his head when the cornetist counted out our +passage-money to him in coppers, for which we had diligently searched +every corner of our pockets. I shouted aloud when I once more saw the +Danube before me; we hurried aboard, the captain gave the signal, and +away we glided in the brilliant morning sunshine past the meadows and +the mountains. + +The birds in the woods were singing, and the morning bells echoed afar +from the villages on each side of us, while overhead the larks' clear +notes were now and then heard. On the boat a canary-bird in its cage +trilled and twittered back so that it was a delight to listen to it. + +It belonged to a pretty young girl who was on the boat with us. She +kept the cage close beside her, and under the other arm she had a +small bundle of linen; she sat by herself, quite still, looking in +great content, now at her new traveling-shoes, which peeped out from +beneath her petticoats, and now down at the water, while the morning +sun shone on her white forehead, above which the hair was neatly +parted. I noticed that the students would have liked to engage her in +polite discourse, for they kept passing to and fro before her, and the +cornetist, whenever he did so, cleared his throat, and settled, first +his cravat, and then his three-cornered hat. But their courage failed +them, and moreover the girl cast down her eyes as soon as they, +approached her. + +They seemed, besides, to stand in special awe of the elderly gentleman +in the gray overcoat, who was now sitting on the other side of the +boat, and whom they took for a divine. He held an open breviary, in +which he was reading, looking up from it frequently to admire the +lovely scenery, while the gilt edges of the book and the gay pictures +of saints laid between its leaves shone brilliantly in the sun light. +He was perfectly well aware, too, of what was going on around him, +and soon recognized the birds by their feathers, for before long he +addressed one of the students in Latin, whereupon all three approached +him, took off their hats, and made answer also in Latin. + +Meanwhile, I had seated myself at the prow of the boat, where, highly +delighted, I dangled my legs above the water, gazing, while the boat +glided onward and the waves below me leaped and foamed, constantly +into the blue distance, watching towers and castles one after another +emerge from the dim depths of green, grow and grow upon the sight, +and finally recede and vanish behind us. "If I had but wings at this +moment!" I thought; and at last in my impatience I drew forth my dear +violin and played all my oldest pieces, which I had learned at home +and at the castle of the Lady fair. + +All at once some one behind me tapped me on the shoulder. It was +the reverend gentleman, who had laid aside his book, and had been +listening to me for a while. "Aha," he said laughing, "aha, my young +_ludi magister_ is forgetting to eat and drink!" Whereupon he bade me +put away my fiddle and take a bit of luncheon with him, and he then +led me to a pleasant little arbor which the boatmen had erected in +the centre of the boat out of young birches and firs. He had a table +placed beneath it, and I and the students, and even the young girl, +were invited to sit down around it upon the casks and packages. + +The reverend gentleman now produced cold meat and bread and butter, +which had all been carefully wrapped in paper, and took from a case +several bottles of wine and a silver goblet, gilt inside, which he +filled, tasted first himself, then smelled, tasted again, and finally +presented to each of us in turn. The students sat bolt upright on +their casks, and only sipped a little, so great was their awe. The +girl, too, just dipped her little beak in the goblet, glancing shyly +first at me and then at the students; but the oftener she looked at us +the bolder she grew. + +At last she informed the reverend gentleman that she was leaving her +home for the first time, to go into service at a certain castle, and +as she spoke I blushed all over, for the castle she mentioned was +that of the Lady fair. "Then she is my future lady's maid!" I thought, +staring at her, and feeling almost giddy. "There is soon to be a grand +wedding at the castle," said his reverence. "Yes," replied the girl, +who would have liked to learn more of the matter; "they say it is an +old secret attachment, but that the Countess could never be brought to +give her consent." His reverence replied only by "hm! hm!" refilling +his goblet, and sipping from it with a thoughtful air. I leaned +forward with both elbows on the table, that I might lose no word of +the conversation. His reverence observed it. "Let me tell you," he +began again, "that both Countesses sent me forth to discover whether +the bridegroom be not in the country hereabouts. A lady wrote from +Rome that he left there some time ago." When he began about the +lady in Rome I blushed again. "Is your reverence acquainted with the +bridegroom?" I asked, in confusion. "No," replied the old gentleman; +"but they say he is a gay bird." "Oh, yes," said I, hastily, "a bird +that escapes as soon as it can from every cage, and sings gaily when +it regains its freedom." "And wanders about in foreign countries," the +old gentleman continued, composedly, "goes everywhere at night, +and sleeps on door-steps in the daytime." That vexed me extremely. +"Reverend sir," I exclaimed, with some heat, "you have been falsely +informed. The bridegroom is a slender, moral, promising youth, who has +been living in luxury in an old castle in Italy, and has associated +solely with Countesses, famous painters, and lady's-maids, who knows +perfectly well how to take care of his money, if he had any, who--" +"Come, come, I had no idea that you knew him so well," the divine here +interrupted me, laughing so heartily that he grew quite purple in the +face and the tears rolled down his cheeks. "But I heard," the girl +interposed, "that the bridegroom was a stout, very wealthy gentleman." +"Good heavens, yes, yes, to be sure! Confusion worse confounded!" +exclaimed his reverence, laughing so that it brought on a fit of +coughing. When he had somewhat recovered himself, he raised his goblet +aloft and cried, "Here's to the bridal pair!" I did not know what +to make of the reverend gentleman and his talk, and I was ashamed, +because of my adventures in Rome, to tell him here before all these +people that I myself was the missing thrice happy bridegroom. + +The goblet kept passing from hand to hand; the reverend gentleman +had a kind word for every one, so that all liked him, and finally the +entire company chatted gaily together. The students grew more and more +loquacious, recounting their experiences in the mountains, and at last +brought out their instruments and played away merrily. The cool breeze +from the water sighed through the leaves of the arbor, the afternoon +sun gilded the woods and vales which flew past us, while the shores +echoed back the notes of the horn. And when the reverend gentleman, +stimulated by the music, grew more and more genial, and told us +stories of his youth, how in vacation-time he too had wandered over +hills and dales, and had been often hungry and thirsty, but always +happy, and how, in fact, a student's whole life, from its first day in +the narrow, dry lecture-room to its last, is one long vacation, then +the students drank all around once more, and struck up a song, that +reechoed among the distant mountains + + "The birds are southward winging + Their yearly, airy flight, + And roving lads are swinging + Their caps in morning's light; + We students thus are going, + And, when the gates are nigh, + Our trumpets shall be blowing, + In token of good-bye. + A long farewell we give thee, + O Prague, for we must leave thee, + _Et habeat bonam pacem, + Qui sedet post fornacem_! + + "When through the towns we're going + At night, the windows shine, + Behind their curtains showing + Full many a damsel fine. + We play at many a gate-way, + And when our throats are dry + We call mine host, and straightway + He treats us generously; + And o'er a goblet foaming + We rest awhile from roaming. + _Venit ex sua domo-- + Beatus ille homo_! + + "When roaming through the forest + Cold Boreas whistles shrill, + 'Tis then our need is sorest; + Wet through on plain and hill, + Our cloaks the winds are tearing, + Our shoes are worn and old, + Still playing, onward faring, + In spite of rain and cold. + _Beatus ille homo + Qui sedet in sua domo + Et sedet post fornacem, + Et habeat bonam pacem!"_ + +I, the captain, and the girl, although we did not understand Latin, +joined gaily in the last lines of each verse; but I was the gayest of +all, for I had caught a glimpse in the distance of my toll-house, and +soon afterward the castle shone among the trees in the light of the +setting sun. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +The boat touched the shore, and we all left it as quickly as possible, +and scattered about in the meadows, like birds suddenly set free from +the cage. The reverend gentleman took a hasty leave of us, and strode +off toward the castle. The students repaired to a retired dingle, +where they could shake out their cloaks, wash themselves in the brook, +and shave one another. The new lady's-maid, with her canary-bird and +her bundle, set out for an inn, the hostess of which I had recommended +to her as an excellent person, and where she wished to change her +gown before she presented herself at the castle. As for me--the lovely +evening shone right into my heart, and as soon as all the rest had +disappeared I lost not a moment, but ran directly to the castle +garden. + +My toll-house, which I had to pass, was standing on the old spot, the +tall trees in the castle garden were still murmuring above it, and +a yellow-hammer, which always used to sing at sunset in the +chestnut-tree before the window, was singing again, as if nothing in +the world had happened since I last heard him. The toll-house window +was open; I ran up to it with delight and looked in. There was no one +there, but the clock in the corner was ticking away, the writing-table +stood by the window, and the long pipe in the corner as of old. I +could not resist the temptation to climb through the window and seat +myself at the writing-table before the big account-book. Again the +sunlight shone golden-green through the chestnut boughs upon the +figures in the open book, again the bees buzzed in and out of the +window, and again the yellow-hammer's jocund song sounded from the +tree outside. All at once the door of the sleeping-room opened, and a +tall, old Receiver, in my dotted dressing-gown, entered! He paused on +the threshold upon beholding me thus unexpectedly, took his spectacles +quickly from his nose, and looked angrily at me. Not a little alarmed, +I started up, and, without saying a word, ran out of the door and +through the little garden, where I was very nearly tripped up by the +confounded potato-vines which the old Receiver had planted, evidently +by the Porter's advice, in place of my flowers. I heard him as he +came out of the door scolding after me, but I was mounted atop of the +garden wall, and gazing with a throbbing heart over into the castle +garden. + +Ah, how the birds were flitting and twittering and singing! The lawns +and paths were deserted, but the gilded tree-tops nodded a welcome to +me in the evening breeze, and on one side, up through masses of dark +green foliage, gleamed the Danube. + +Suddenly I heard sung from the depths of the garden-- + + "When the yearning heart is stilled + As in dreams, the forest sighing, + To the listening earth replying, + Tells the thoughts with which 'twas filled, + Days long vanished, soothing sorrow-- + From the Past a light they borrow, + And the heart is gently thrilled." + +The voice and the song were strangely familiar, as if I had heard +them somewhere in a dream. I pondered over and over again, and at last +exclaimed, joyfully, "It is Herr Guido!" swinging myself quickly down +into the garden. It was the selfsame song that he had sung on the +balcony of the Italian inn on that summer evening when I saw him for +the last time. + +He went on singing, while I bounded over beds and hedges toward the +singer. But as I emerged from between the last clumps of rose-bushes I +suddenly paused spellbound. For on the green opening beside the little +lake with the swans, clearly illuminated in the ruddy evening light, +on a stone bench sat the lovely Lady fair in a beautiful dress, with +a wreath of red and white roses on her dark-brown hair, and downcast +eyes, tracing lines on the green-sward with her riding-whip, just as +she had sat in the skiff when I was forced to sing her the song of +the Lady fair. Opposite her sat another young lady, with brown curls +clustering on a plump white neck, which was turned toward me; she was +singing to a guitar, while the swans glided in wide circles on the +placid water. All at once the Lady fair raised her eyes, and gave +a scream on perceiving me. The other lady turned round toward me so +quickly that her brown curls fell over her eyes, and when she saw me +she burst into a fit of immoderate laughter, sprang up from the bench, +and clapped her hands thrice. Whereupon a crowd of little girls in +white short skirts with red and green sashes came running out from +among the rose-bushes, so that I could not imagine where they had all +been hiding. They had long garlands of flowers in their hands, and +quickly formed a circle around me, dancing and singing-- + + "With ribbons gay of violets blue + The bridal wreath we bring thee; + The merry dance we lead thee to, + And wedding songs we sing thee. + Ribbons gay of violets blue, + Bridal wreath we bring thee." + +It was from _Der Freischütz_. I recognized some of the little singers; +they were girls from the village. I pinched their cheeks, and tried to +escape from the circle, but the roguish little things would not let +me out. I could not tell what to make of it all, and stood there +perfectly dazed. + +Suddenly a young man in hunting costume emerged from the shrubbery. +Hardly could I believe my eyes--it was merry Herr Lionardo! The little +girls now opened the circle and stood as if spell-bound on one foot, +with the other stretched out, holding the garlands of flowers high +above their heads with both hands. Herr Lionardo took the hand of the +lovely Lady fair, who had risen, and had only now and then glanced at +me, and, leading her up to me, said-- + +"Love--on this point philosophers are unanimous--is one of the most +courageous qualities of the human heart; it shatters with a glance of +fire the barriers of rank and station, the world is too confined for +it, eternity too brief. It is, so to speak, a poet's robe, in which +every dreamer enwraps himself once in this cold world, for a journey +to Arcadia. And the farther two parted lovers wander from each other, +the more beautiful and the richer are the folds of the robe, the more +surprising and wonderful is its extent, as it sweeps behind them, so +that one really cannot travel far without treading on a couple of such +trains. O beloved Herr Receiver, and bridegroom! although wrapped in +this robe you reached the shores of the Tiber, the little hands of +your present bride held you fast by the extreme end of the train, and, +however you might fiddle and fume, you had to return within the magic +influence of her beautiful eyes. And since this is so, you two dear, +foolish people, wrap yourselves both up in this blessed robe, forget +all the rest of the world, love like turtle-doves, and be happy!" + +Hardly had Herr Lionardo finished his speech when the other young lady +who had sung the song approached me, crowned me with a wreath of fresh +myrtle, and as she was arranging it, with her face close to my own, +archly sang-- + + "And therefore do I crown thee, + And therefore love thee so, + Because thou oft hast moved me + With the music of thy bow." + +As she retreated a step or two, "Do you remember the robbers who shook +you down from the tree at night?" said she, courtesying, and giving +me so arch a glance that my heart danced within me. Thereupon, without +waiting for an answer, she walked around me. "Actually just the +same, without any Italian affectations! But no! look, look at his fat +pockets!" she exclaimed suddenly to the lovely Lady fair. "Violin, +linen, razor, portmanteau, everything stuffed together!" She turned +me all round as she spoke, and could scarcely say anything more for +laughing. Meanwhile, the lovely Lady fair was quite silent, and could +hardly raise her eyes for shame and confusion. It seemed to me that +at heart she was provoked at all this jesting talk. At last her eyes +filled with tears, and she hid her face on the breast of the other +lady, who first looked at her in surprise and then clasped her +affectionately in her arms. + +I stood there as in a dream. The longer I looked at the strange lady +the more clearly I recognized her; she was in truth no other than--the +young painter, Herr Guido! + +I did not know what to say, and was just about to question her, when +Herr Lionardo approached her and spoke in an undertone. "Does he not +know yet?" I heard him ask. She shook her head. He reflected for a +moment, and then said aloud, "No, no, he must be told all immediately, +or there will be all kinds of fresh gossip and confusion." + +"Herr Receiver," he said, turning to me, "we have not much time at +present, but do me the favor to exhaust your stock of surprise +and wonder as quickly as possible, that you may not hereafter, by +questions, and wonderings, and head-shakings among the people about +here, revive old tales and give rise to new rumors and suspicions." So +saying, he drew me aside into the shrubbery, while Fräulein Guido made +passes in the air with the Lady fair's riding-whip, and shook all her +curls down over her eyes, which did not prevent my seeing that she was +blushing violently. + +"Well, then," said Herr Lionardo, "Fräulein Flora, who is trying +to look as if she neither knew nor had heard anything of the whole +affair, had exchanged hearts in a hurry with somebody. Whereupon +somebody else appears, and with sound of trumpet and drum offers her +his heart, and wishes for hers in return. But her heart is already +bestowed upon somebody, and somebody's heart is in her possession, and +that somebody will neither take back his heart nor give back hers. All +the world exclaims--but have you never read any romances?" I shook my +head. "Well, then, at all events you have taken part in one. In brief, +there was such a jumble with the hearts that somebody--that is, I--had +to take matters in hand. I sprang on my horse one warm summer night, +mounted Fräulein Flora as the painter Guido on another, and rode +toward the south, to conceal her in one of my lonely castles in Italy +till all the fuss about the hearts should be over. But on the way we +were tracked, and from the balcony of the Italian inn before which you +kept, sound asleep, such admirable watch, Flora suddenly caught sight +of our pursuer." "The crooked Signor, then--" "Was a spy. Therefore we +secretly took to the woods, and left you to travel post alone over +our prearranged route. That misled our pursuer, and my people in the +mountain castle besides; they were hourly expecting the disguised +Flora, and with more zeal than penetration they took you for the +Fräulein. Even here at the castle they thought Flora was among the +mountains; they inquired about her, they wrote to her--did you not +receive a note?" In an instant I produced the note from my pocket: +"This letter, then--?" "Is addressed to me," said Fräulein Flora, +who up to this point had seemed to be paying no attention to our +conversation. She snatched the note from me, read it, and put it +into her bosom. "And now," said Herr Lionardo, "we must hasten to the +castle, where they are all waiting for us. In conclusion, as a matter +of course, and as is fitting for every well-bred romance--discovery, +repentance, reconciliation; but we are all happy together once more, +and the wedding takes place the day after tomorrow!" + +Just as he had finished, a terrific racket of drums and trumpets, +horns and clarionets, was suddenly heard in the shrubbery; guns were +fired at intervals, loud cheers were given, the little girls began to +dance again, and heads appeared among the bushes as if they had grown +out of the earth. I ran and leaped about in all the hurry and scurry, +but as it began to grow dark I only gradually recognized all the +faces. The old gardener beat the drum, the students from Prague in +their cloaks played away, and among them the Porter fingered his +bassoon like mad. When I suddenly perceived him thus unexpectedly, I +ran to him and embraced him with enthusiasm, causing him to play quite +out of time. "Upon my word, if he should travel to the ends of +the earth he would never be anything but a goose!" he said to the +students, and then went on blowing away at his bassoon in a fury. + +Meanwhile, the lovely Lady fair had privately escaped from all the +noise and confusion, and had fled like a startled fawn far into the +depths of the garden. + +I caught sight of her in time and hurried after her. In their zeal +the musicians never noticed us; after a while they thought that we had +decamped to the castle, and then the entire band took up the line of +march in that direction. + +We, however, almost at the same moment reached a summer-house on the +borders of the garden, whence through the open window there was a +view of the wide, deep valley. The sun had long since set behind the +mountains, a rosy haze glimmered in the warm fading twilight, through +which the murmur of the Danube ascended clearer and clearer the +stiller grew the air. I looked long at the lovely Countess, who stood +before me heated with her flight and so close that I could almost hear +her heart beat. Now that I was alone with her I could find no words to +speak, so great was my awe of her. At last I took heart of grace, and +clasped in mine one of her little white hands--and in one moment her +head lay on my breast and my arms were around her. + +In an instant she extricated herself and turned to the window to cool +her glowing cheeks in the evening air. "Ah," I cried, "my heart is +full to bursting, but it all seems like a dream to me!" "And to me +too," said the lovely Lady fair. "When, last summer," she went on +after a while, "I came back with the Countess from Rome where we +fortunately found Fräulein Flora, and had brought her back with us but +could hear nothing of you either there or here, I never thought all +this would come to pass. It was only at noon today that Jocky, the +good, brisk fellow, came breathless into the court-yard and brought +the news that you had come by the mail-boat." Then she laughed quietly +to herself. "Do you remember," she said, "that time when I came out on +the balcony? It was just such an evening as this, and there was music +in the garden." "And he is really dead?" I asked hastily. "Whom do +you mean?" replied the Lady fair, looking at me in surprise. "Your +ladyship's husband," said I, "who was with you on the balcony." She +flushed crimson. "What strange fancies you have in your head!" she +exclaimed. "That was the Countess's son, who had just returned from +his travels, and, since it happened to be my birthday, he led me out +on the balcony with him that I might have a share of the cheers. Was +that why you ran away?" "Good heavens, yes!" I cried, striking my +forehead with my hand. She shook her head and laughed merrily. + +I was so happy there beside her while she went on chatting so +confidingly, that I could have sat listening until morning. I found in +my pocket a handful of almonds which I had brought with me from Italy. +She took some, and we sat and cracked them and gazed abroad over the +quiet country. "Do you see that little white villa," she said after a +while, "gleaming over there in the moonlight? The Count has given us +that, with its garden and vineyard; there is where we are to live. He +found out long ago that we cared for each other, and he is very fond +of you, for if he had not had you with them when he was running +off with Fräulein Flora they would both have been caught before the +Countess had become reconciled to him, and everything would have been +spoiled." "Good heavens! fairest, sweetest Countess," I cried out, +"my head is fairly spinning with all this unexpected and amazing +information; are you talking of Herr Lionardo?" "Yes, yes," she +replied; "that is what he called himself in Italy; he owns all that +property over there, and he is going to marry our Countess's daughter, +the lovely Flora. But why do you call me Countess?" I stared at her. +"I am no Countess," she went on. "Our Countess took me into the castle +and had me educated under her care when my uncle, the Porter, brought +me here a poor little orphan child." + +Ah, what a stone fell from my heart at these words! "God bless the +Porter," I said in an ecstasy, "for being our uncle! I always set +great store by him." "And he would be very fond of you," she replied, +"if you would only comport yourself with more dignity, as he expresses +it. You must dress with greater elegance." "Oh," I exclaimed, +enchanted, "an English dress-coat, straw hat, long trousers, and +spurs! And as soon as we're married we will take a trip to Italy--to +Rome--where lovely fountains are playing, and we'll take with us the +Prague students, and the Porter!" She smiled quietly, and gave me a +happy glance, while the music echoed in the distance, and rockets flew +up from the castle above the garden in the quiet night, and the Danube +kept murmuring on, and everything, everything was delightful! + + + + +ADALBERT VON CHAMISSO + + * * * * * + + THE CASTLE OF BONCOURT[37] (1827) + + + I dream of the days of my childhood, + And shake my silvery head. + How haunt ye my brain, O visions, + Methought ye forgotten and dead! + + + From the shades of the forest uprises + A castle so lofty and great; + Well know I the battlements, towers, + The arching stone-bridge, and the gate. + + The lions look down from the scutcheon + On me with familiar face; + I greet the old friends of my boyhood, + And speed through the courtyard space. + + There lies the Sphinx by the fountain; + The fig-tree's foliage gleams; + 'Twas there, behind yon windows, + I dreamt the first of my dreams. + + I tread the aisle of the chapel, + And search for my fathers' graves-- + Behold them! And there from the pillars + Hang down the old armor and glaives. + + Not yet can I read the inscription; + A veil hath enveloped my sight, + What though through the painted windows + Glows brightly the sunbeam's light. + Thus gleams, O hall of my fathers, + Thy image so bright in my mind, + From the earth now vanished, the ploughshare + Leaves of thee no vestige behind. + + Be fruitful, lov'd soil, I will bless thee, + While anguish o'er-cloudeth my brow; + Threefold will I bless him, whoever + May guide o'er thy bosom the plough. + + But I will up, up, and be doing; + My lyre I'll take in my hand; + O'er the wide, wide earth will I wander, + And sing from land to land. + +[Illustration: ADALBERT VON CHAMISSO] + + * * * * * + + THE LION'S BRIDE[38] + + + With myrtle bedecked and in bridal array, + Comes the keeper's fair daughter, as blooming as May. + She enters the cage of the lion; he lies + Calm and still at her feet and looks up in her eyes. + + The terrible beast, of whom men are afraid, + Lies peaceful and tame at the feet of the maid, + While she, in her tender adorable grace, + Is stroking his head as the tears stain her face. + + "In the days that are gone, we were playmates so true; + Like brother and sister we played, I and you. + Our love was still constant in joy or in pain-- + But alas for the days that will ne'er come again! + + "You learned to toss proudly your glorious head, + And roar, as you tossed it, a warning of dread; + I grew from a babe to a woman--you see, + No longer a light-hearted child I can be. + + "Oh, would that those days had had never an end, + My splendid strong playmate, my noble old friend! + But soon I must go, so my parents decree, + Away with a stranger--no more am I free. + + "A man has beheld me, and fancied me fair; + He has asked for my hand--and the wreath's in my hair! + Dear faithful old comrade, my girlhood is dead; + And my sight is bedimmed with the tears I have shed. + + "Do you know what I mean? Ah, your look is a sign! + I have made up my mind, and you need not repine. + But yonder he comes who must lead me away-- + So I'll give the last kiss to my playmate today!" + + As the last fond farewell with reluctance she took, + The huge frame so trembled the bars even shook; + But when, drawing near a strange man he espied, + A sudden alarm seized the heart of the bride. + + The lion stands guard by the door of the cage-- + He is lashing his tail, he is roaring with rage. + With threats, with entreaties she bids him to cease, + But in vain--in his might he denies her release. + + Without are confusion and cries of despair + "Bring a gun!" shouts the bridegroom; "our one hope is there! + I will snatch her away from his horrible claws * * *" + But the lion defies him with foam-dripping jaws. + + The girl makes a last frenzied dash for the door-- + But his past love the beast seems to measure no more; + The sweet slender body goes down 'neath his might, + All bleeding and lifeless, a pitiful sight. + + Then, as if he knew well what a crime he had wrought, + He throws himself down by her, caring for naught; + He lies all unheeding what dangers remain, + Till the bullet avenging speeds swift through his brain. + + * * * * * + + WOMAN'S LOVE AND LIFE[39] (1830) + + + 1 + + Since mine eyes beheld him, + Blind I seem to be; + Wheresoe'er they wander, + Him alone they see. + Round me glows his image, + In a waking dream; + From the darkness rising + Brighter doth it beam. + + All is drear and gloomy + That around me lies; + Now my sister's pastimes + I no longer prize; + In my chamber rather + Would I weep alone; + Since my eyes beheld him + Blind methinks I'm grown. + + + 2 + + He, the best of all, the noblest, + O how gentle! O how kind + Lips of sweetness, eyes of brightness, + Steadfast courage, lucid mind. + + As on high, in Heaven's azure, + Bright and splendid, beams yon star, + Thus he in my heaven beameth, + Bright and splendid, high and far. + + Wander, wander where thou listest, + I will gaze but on thy beam; + With humility behold it, + In a sad, yet blissful dream. + + Hear me not thy bliss imploring + With prayer's silent eloquence? + Know me now, a lowly maiden, + Star of proud magnificence! + + May thy choice be rendered happy + By the worthiest alone! + And I'll call a thousand blessings + Down on her exalted throne. + + Then I'll weep with tears of gladness; + Happy, happy then my lot! + If my heart should rive asunder, + Break, O heart--it matters not! + + + 3 + + Is it true? O, I cannot believe it; + A dream doth my senses enthrall; + O can he have made me so happy, + And exalted me thus above all? + + Meseems as if he had spoken, + "I am thine, ever faithful and true!" + Meseems--O still am I dreaming-- + It cannot, it cannot be true! + + O fain would I, rocked on his bosom, + In the sleep of eternity lie; + That death were indeed the most blissful, + In the rapture of weeping to die. + + + 4 + + Help me, ye sisters, + Kindly to deck me, + Me, O the happy one, aid me this morn! + Let the light finger + Twine the sweet myrtle's + Blossoming garland, my brow to adorn! + + As on the bosom + Of my loved one, + Wrapt in the bliss of contentment, I lay, + He, with soft longing + In his heart thrilling, + Ever impatiently sighed for today. + + Aid me, ye sisters, + Aid me to banish + Foolish anxieties, timid and coy, + That I with sparkling + Eye may receive him, + Him the bright fountain of rapture and joy. + + Do I behold thee, + Thee, my beloved one, + Dost thou, O sun, shed thy beam upon me? + Let me devoutly, + Let me in meekness + Bend to my lord and my master the knee! + + Strew, ye fair sisters, + Flowers before him, + Cast budding roses around at his feet! + Joyfully quitting + Now your bright circle, + You, lovely sisters, with sadness I greet. + + + 5 + + Dearest friend, thou lookest + On me with surprise, + Dost thou wonder wherefore + Tears suffuse mine eyes? + Let the dewy pearl-drops + Like rare gems appear, + Trembling, bright with gladness, + In their crystal sphere. + + With what anxious raptures + Doth my bosom swell! + O had I but language + What I feel to tell! + Come and hide thy face, love, + Here upon my breast, + In thine ear I'll whisper + Why I am so blest. + + Now the tears thou knowest + Which my joy confessed, + Thou shalt not behold them, + Thou, my dearest, best; + Linger on my bosom, + Feel its throbbing tide; + Let me press thee firmly, + Firmly, to my side! + + Here may rest the cradle, + Close my couch beside, + Where it may in silence + My sweet vision hide; + Soon will come the morning, + When my dream will wake, + And thy smiling image + Will to life awake. + + + 6 + + Upon my heart, and upon my breast, + Thou joy of all joys, my sweetest, best! + Bliss, thou art love; O love, thou art bliss-- + I've said it, and seal it here with a kiss. + I thought no happiness mine could exceed, + But now I am happy, O happy indeed! + She only, who to her bosom hath pressed + The babe who drinketh life at her breast; + 'Tis only a mother the joys can know + Of love, and real happiness here below. + How I pity man, whose bosom reveals + No joys like that which a mother feels! + Thou look'st on me, with a smile on thy brow, + Thou dear, dear little angel, thou! + Upon my heart, and upon my breast, + Thou joy of all joys, my sweetest, best! + + + 7 + + Ah, thy first wound hast thou inflicted now! + But oh! how deep! + Hard-hearted, cruel man, now sleepest thou + Death's long, long sleep. + + I gaze upon the void in silent grief, + The world is drear; + I've lived and loved, but now the verdant leaf + Of life is sere. + + I will retire within my soul's recess, + The veil shall fall; + I'll live with thee and my past happiness, + O thou, my all! + +[Illustration: _Permission Franz Hanfstaengl, New York_ MORITZ VON +SCHWIND THE WEDDING JOURNEY] + + * * * * * + + THE WOMEN OF WEINSBERG[40] (1831) + + + It was the good King Konrad with all his army lay + Before the town of Weinsberg full many a weary day; + The Guelph at last was vanquished, but still the town held out; + The bold and fearless burghers they fought with courage stout. + + But then came hunger, hunger! That was a grievous guest; + They went to ask for favor, but anger met their quest. + "Through you the dust hath bitten full many a worthy knight, + And if your gates you open, the sword shall you requite!" + + Then came the women, praying: "Let be as thou hast said, + Yet give us women quarter, for we no blood have shed!" + At sight of these poor wretches the hero's anger failed, + And soft compassion entered and in his heart prevailed. + + "The women shall be pardoned, and each with her shall bear + As much as she can carry of her most precious ware; + The women with their burdens unhindered forth shall go, + Such is our royal judgment--we swear it shall be so!" + + At early dawn next morning, ere yet the east was bright, + The soldiers saw advancing a strange and wondrous sight; + The gate swung slowly open, and from the vanquished town + Forth swayed a long procession of women weighted down; + + For perched upon her shoulders each did her husband bear-- + That was the thing most precious of all her household ware. + "We'll stop the treacherous women!" cried all with one intent; + The chancellor he shouted: "This was not what we meant!" + + But when they told King Konrad, the good King laughed aloud; + "If this was not our meaning, they've made it so," he vowed, + "A promise is a promise, our loyal word was pledge; + It stands, and no Lord Chancellor may quibble or map hedge." + + Thus was the royal scutcheon kept free from stain or blot! + The story has descended from days now half forgot; + 'Twas eleven hundred and forty this happened, as I've heard, + The flower of German princes thought shame to break his word. + + * * * * * + + THE CRUCIFIX[41] (1830) + + + In hopeless contemplation of his work + The master stood, a frown upon his brow, + Where shame and self-contempt appeared to lurk. + + With all his art and knowledge he had now + Portrayed the suffering Savior's image there-- + Yet could the marble not with life endow. + + He could not make it live, for all his care-- + What is not flesh knows not to suffer pain; + Cold stone can none but stone's cold likeness bear. + + Beauty and due proportion though it gain, + The chisel's marks will never disappear + And nature wake, howe'er his prayer may strain: + + "Ah, turn not from me, Nature! Thou most dear, + I long to raise thee to undreamed of height-- + But thou art dumb * * * a sorry bungler's here!" + + There entered then a loyal neophyte, + Who looked with reverence on the master's art + And stood beside him, flushed with new delight. + + To the same muse was given his young heart, + The selfsame quest of beauty filled his days-- + Yet must his soul with endless failure smart. + + To him the master: "Scorn is in thy praise! + If so this dull, dead stone thy mind can fill, + To death, not life, thou must have turned thy face!" + + Then boldly spoke the youth: "Admire I will! + What though thy Christ for death's repose prepare + So strangely silent and so strangely still, + + Yet at a great thing greatly wrought I stare, + And long to match the marvel that I see; + I see what is, and thou what should be there." + + The master looked upon him silently, + His youthful strength, his limbs so straight and fine, + And deemed there were no model such as he. + + "A prey thou find'st me to despair malign-- + How get from lifeless marble life and pain? + Here nature fails, whose secrets else are mine. + + To seek a hireling's aid were all in vain; + And sought I thine, though partner of my aims, + Naught but a cold refusal should I gain." + + "Nay," said the youth, "in art's and God's high names, + I would perform unwearied, unafraid, + Whate'er of me thy need transcendent claims." + + He spoke, and straight his beauty disarrayed, + Showing the fair flower of his youthful grace + Within the guarded workshop's sacred shade. + + Entranced the master gazed, and could not chase + A thought that rose unbidden to his mind-- + If pain upon that form its lines could trace! + + "The help thou off'rest if I am to find, + Thee too the cross must raise above the ground * * *" + Willing, the youth his gracious limbs resigned. + + With tight cords first his prey the sculptor bound, + Then brought the hammer and the piercing nails-- + A martyr's death must close the destined round! + + The first sharp nail went through, and piteous wails + Burst from the youth, but no compassion woke; + An eager eye the look of suffering hails. + + With restless haste redoubled, stroke on stroke + Achieved the bleeding model that he sought. + Calmly to work he went; no word he spoke. + + A hideous joy upon his features wrought-- + For nature now each shade of anguished woe + Upon the expiring lovely form had taught. + + Unceasing worked his hands, above, below; + His heart was to all human feeling dead-- + But in the marble * * * life began to show! + + Whether in prayer the sufferer bowed his head, + Or in despairing torment gnashed his teeth, + Still on the sculptor's flying fingers sped. + + The pale, exhausted victim, nigh to death, + As night the third long day of agony + Is ending, murmurs with his last weak breath, + + "My God, my God, hast Thou forsaken me?" + The eyes, half raised, sink down, the writhings cease, + The awful crime has reached its term--and see + + There, in its glory, stands a masterpiece! + + + II + + "My God, my God, hast Thou forsaken me?" + At midnight in the minster rang the wail; + Who could have raised it? 'Twas a mystery. + + At the high altar, where its radiance pale + A tiny lamp threw out, a form was found + To move, whence came the faltering accents frail. + + And then it dashed itself upon the ground, + Its forehead 'gainst the stones, and wildly wept; + The vaulted roof reëchoed with the sound. + + Long was the vigil that dim figure kept + That seemed by tears so strangely comforted; + None dared its tottering footsteps intercept. + + At last the night's mysterious hours were sped + And day returned; but all was silent now, + And with the dawn the ghostly form had fled. + + The faithful came before their God to bow, + The canons to the altar reverently. + There had been placed above it, none knew how, + + A crucifix whose like none e'er did see; + Thus, only thus had God His strength put by, + Thus had He looked upon the blood-stained tree. + + To Him whose suffering brought salvation nigh + Came sinners for release, a contrite band-- + And "Christ have mercy!" was the general cry. + + It seems not like the work of mortal hand hand-- + Who can have set the godlike image there? + Who in the dead of night such offering planned? + + It is the master's, who with anxious care + Has waited, from the public gaze withdrawn, + To show the utmost that his art can dare. + + What shall we bring him for his ease foregone + And brain o'ertasked? Gold is but sorry meed-- + His head a crown of laurel shall put on!-- + + So soon a great procession was decreed + Of priests and laymen; marching in the van + Went one who bore the recompense agreed. + + They came where dwelt the venerated man-- + And found an open door, an empty house; + They called his name, and naught but echoes ran. + + The drums and cymbals all the neighbors rouse + And trumpets shrill their joy; but none appears + To see the grateful people pay their vows. + + He is not there, the grave assemblage hears; + A neighbor, waking early, like a ghost + Saw him steal forth, a prey to nameless fears. + + From room to room they went--their pains were lost; + In all the desolate chambers there was none + That answered them, or came to play the host. + + They called aloud, let in the cheerful sun + Through opened windows--in their anxious round + Into the workshop entrance last they won * * *, + + Ah, speak not of the horror there they found! + + + III + + They have brought a captive home, and raging told + That he is stained with foulest blasphemy, + Mocks their false prophet with his insults bold. + + It is the pilgrim we were used to see + For penance roaming 'neath our palm-trees' shade, + Till at the Holy Grave he might be free. + + Will he, when comes the hangman, unafraid + A Christian's courage show in face of wrong? + God strengthen him on whom he cries for aid! + + Ah yes--though life is sweet, his will is strong, + His mind made up; he yields him to their hands, + Content to shed his blood in torment long. + + Nay, look not yonder, where the savage bands + And merciless prepare a hideous deed-- + Perchance a like dread fate before us stands! + + He comes, a victim led * * * yet will he bleed? + I see a wondrous radiance in his face, + As though unlooked-for safety were decreed! + + Can he have bought it * * *? No! they stride apace + Toward the blood-stained spot--it is to be. + The martyr's palm his confident brow shall grace. + + "Weep not! No tears of pity flowed from me + When to the cross the tender youth I bound-- + My heart of stone ignored his misery." + + So, hounded by remorse, the sinner found + The path of expiation, firmly trod, + Cain's brand upon him, all the dreadful round. + + "Thou who didst die for me, all-pitying God, + Wilt Thou vouchsafe my tortures now an end? + I have not asked deliverance from Thy rod, + + Nor hoped Thou shouldst to me Thy mercy lend. + 'Tis life, not death, that is so hard to bear * * * + Into Thy hands my spirit I commend!" + + So when the ruffian captors seized him there + And bound him to the cross, he calmly smiled; + 'Twas they that watched whose brows were lined with care. + + And as his limbs were torn with anguish wild, + And he was lifted 'mid the throng on high, + White peace came down upon his soul defiled. + + In passionate prayer the faithful watched him die + That stood beneath the cross; his lips were still-- + His suffering was one long atoning cry. + + The day passed, and the night; with dauntless will + He yet found strength his torment dire to face. + The third day's sun sank down behind the hill; + + And as the glory of its parting rays + He strove with glazing eye once more to see, + With his last breath he cried in joyful praise + + "My God, my God, Thou hast not forsaken me!" + + * * * * * + + THE OLD SINGER[42] (1833) + + + Once a strange old man went singing, + Words of scornful admonition + To the streets and markets bringing: + "In the wilds a voice am I! + Slowly, slowly seek your mission; + Naught in haste, or rash endeavor-- + From the work yet ceasing never + Slow and sure the hour draws nigh! + + Time's great branches cease from shaking; + Blind are ye, devoid of reason, + If its fruit ye would be taking + When its blossoms have but burst. + Let it ripen to its season, + Wind within its branches bluster-- + Of itself the fruits 'twill muster + For whose juices ripe ye thirst." + + Wild, excited crowds are scorning + In their guise the gray old singer, + Thus reward him for his warning, + Ape his songs in mockery: + "Shall we let the fellow linger + To disgrace us? Stone him, beat him, + With the scorn he merits treat him-- + Let the world his folly see!" + + So the strange old man went singing, + To the halls of royal splendor + Scornful admonition bringing: + "In the wilds a voice am I! + Doubt not, dream not of surrender: + Forward, forward, never ceasing, + Strength in spite of all increasing-- + Slow and sure the hour draws nigh! + + With the stream, before the breezes + Wouldst thou show thy strength, then teach it + Both to conquer as it pleases-- + Both are weaker than the grave. + Choose thy port, and steer to reach it! + Threatening rocks? The rudder's master; + Turning back is sure disaster, + And its end beneath the wave." + + One was seen to blench in terror, + Flushing first, then sudden paling: + "Who gave entrance--whose the error + Let this madman pass along? + All things show his wits are failing-- + Shall he daze our people's senses? + Prison him with sure defenses, + Silence hold his silly song!" + + But the strange old man went singing + Where within the tower they bound him-- + Calm and clear his answer ringing: + "In the wilds a voice am I! + Though the people's hate surround him, + Must the prophet still endeavor, + From his mission ceasing never-- + Slow and sure the hour draws nigh!" + + * * * * * + + THE OLD WASHERWOMAN[43] (1833) + + + Among yon lines her hands have laden, + A laundress with white hair appears, + Alert as many a youthful maiden, + Spite of her five-and-seventy years. + Bravely she won those white hairs, still + Eating the bread hard toil obtain'd her, + And laboring truly to fulfil + The duties to which God ordain'd her. + + Once she was young and full of gladness; + She loved and hoped, was woo'd and won; + Then came the matron's cares, the sadness + No loving heart on earth may shun. + Three babes she bore her mate; she pray'd + Beside his sick-bed; he was taken; + She saw him in the churchyard laid, + Yet kept her faith and hope unshaken. + + The task her little ones of feeding + She met unfaltering from that hour; + She taught them thrift and honest breeding, + Her virtues were their worldly dower. + To seek employment, one by one, + Forth with her blessing they departed, + And she was in the world alone, + Alone and old, but still high-hearted. + + With frugal forethought, self-denying, + She gather'd coin and flax she bought, + And many a night her spindle plying, + Good store of fine-spun thread she wrought. + The thread was fashion'd in the loom; + She brought it home, and calmly seated + To work, with not a thought of gloom, + Her decent grave-clothes she completed. + + She looks on them with fond elation, + They are her wealth, her treasure rare, + Her age's pride and consolation, + Hoarded with all a miser's care. + She dons the sark each Sabbath day, + To hear the Word that faileth never; + Well-pleased she lays it then away, + Till she shall sleep in it forever. + + Would that my spirit witness bore me + That, like this woman, I had done + The work my Master put before me, + Duly from morn till set of sun. + Would that life's cup had been by me + Quaff'd in such wise and happy measure, + And that I too might finally + Look on my shroud with such meek pleasure. + + + + +THE WONDERFUL HISTORY OF PETER SCHLEMIHL (1814) + +By ADALBERT VON CHAMISSO TRANSLATED BY FREDERIC H. HEDGE + +CHAPTER I + + +After a fortunate, but for me very troublesome voyage, we finally +reached the port. The instant that I touched land in the boat, I +loaded myself with my few effects, and passing through the swarming +people, I entered the first, and most modest house, before which I saw +a sign hang. I requested a room; the boots measured me with a look, +and conducted me into the garret. I caused fresh water to be brought, +and made him exactly describe to me where I should find Mr. Thomas +John. He replied to my inquiry--"Before the north gate; the first +country-house on the right hand; a large new house of red and white +marble, with many columns." + +"Good!" It was still early in the day. I opened at once my bundle; +took thence my new black cloth coat; clad myself cleanly in my best +apparel; put my letter of introduction into my pocket, and +immediately set out on the way to the man who was to promote my modest +expectations. + +When I had ascended the long North Street, and reached the gate, I +soon saw the pillars glimmer through the foliage. "Here it is, then," +thought I. I wiped the dust from my shoes with my pocket-handkerchief, +put my neckcloth in order, and in God's name rung the bell. The door +flew open. In the hall I had an examination to undergo; the porter, +however, permitted me to be announced, and I had the honor to be +called into the park, where Mr. John was walking with a select +party. I recognized the man at once by the lustre of his corpulent +self-complacency. He received me very well--as a rich man receives a +poor devil--even turned toward me, without turning from the rest of +the company, and took the offered letter from my hand. "So, so, from +my brother! I have heard nothing from him for a long time. But he is +well? There," continued he, addressing the company, without waiting +for an answer, and pointing with the letter to a hill, "there I am +going to erect the new building." He broke the seal without breaking +off the conversation, which turned upon riches. + +"He that is not master of a million, at least," he observed, +"is--pardon me the word--a wretch!" + +"O! how true!" I exclaimed with a rush of overflowing feeling. + +That pleased him. He smiled at me, and said--"Stay here, my good +friend; in a while I shall perhaps have time to tell you what I think +about this." He pointed to the letter, which he then thrust into his +pocket, and turned again to the company. He offered his arm to a young +lady; the other gentlemen addressed themselves to other fair +ones; each found what suited him; and all proceeded toward the +rose-blossomed mound. + +I slid into the rear, without troubling any one, for no one troubled +himself any further about me. The company was excessively lively; +there were dalliance and playfulness; trifles were sometimes discussed +with an important tone, but oftener important matters with levity; +and especially pleasantly flew the wit over absent friends and their +circumstances. I was too strange to understand much of all this; too +anxious and introverted to take an interest in such riddles. + +We had reached the rosary. The lovely Fanny, the belle of the day, +as it appeared, would, out of obstinacy, herself break off a blooming +bough. She wounded herself on a thorn, and as if from the dark roses, +flowed the purple on her tender hand. This circumstance put the whole +party into a flutter. English plaster was sought for. A still, +thin, lanky, longish, oldish man, who stood near, and whom I had +not hitherto remarked, put his hand instantly into the close-lying +breast-pocket of his old French gray taffetty coat; produced thence +a little pocket-book; opened it; and presented to the lady, with a +profound obeisance, the required article. She took it without noticing +the giver, and without thanks; the wound was bound up; and we went +forward over the hill, from whose back the company could enjoy the +wide prospect over the green labyrinth of the park to the boundless +ocean. + +The view was in reality vast and splendid. A light point appeared +on the horizon between the dark flood and the blue of the heaven. +"A telescope here!" cried John; and already, before the servants who +appeared at the call were in motion, the gray man, modestly bowing, +had thrust his hand into his coat-pocket, and drawn thence a beautiful +Dollond and handed it to John. Bringing it immediately to his eye, +the latter informed the company that it was the ship which went out +yesterday, and was detained in view of port by contrary winds. The +telescope passed from hand to hand, but not again into that of its +owner. I, however, gazed in wonder at the man, and could not conceive +how the great machine had come out of the narrow pocket; but this +seemed to have struck no one else, and nobody troubled himself any +farther about the gray man than about myself. + +Refreshments were handed round; the choicest fruits of every zone, in +the costliest vessels. Mr. John did the honors with an easy grace, and +a second time addressed a word to me. "Help yourself; you have not had +the like at sea." I bowed, but he saw it not; he was already speaking +with some one else. + +The company would fain have reclined upon the sward on the slope of +the hill, opposite to the outstretched landscape, had they not feared +the dampness of the earth. "It were divine," observed one of the +party, "had we but a Turkey carpet to spread here." The wish was +scarcely expressed when the man in the gray coat had his hand in +his pocket, and was busied in drawing thence, with a modest and even +humble deportment, a rich Turkey carpet interwoven with gold. The +servants received it as a matter of course, and opened it on the +required spot. The company, without ceremony, took their places upon +it; for myself, I looked again in amazement on the man, at the pocket, +at the carpet, which measured above twenty paces long and ten +in breadth, and rubbed my eyes, not knowing what to think of it, +especially as nobody saw anything extraordinary in it. + +I would fain have had some explanation regarding the man, and have +asked who he was, but I knew not to whom to address myself, for I +was almost more afraid of the gentlemen's servants than of the served +gentlemen. At length I took courage, and stepped up to a young man who +appeared to me to be of less consideration than the rest, and who had +often stood alone. I begged him softly to tell me who the agreeable +man in the gray coat there was. + +"He there, who looks like an end of thread that has escaped out of a +tailor's needle?" + +"Yes, he who stands alone." + +"I don't know him," he replied, and, as it seemed, in order to avoid +a longer conversation with me he turned away and spoke of indifferent +matters to another. + +The sun began now to shine more powerfully, and to inconvenience the +ladies. The lovely Fanny addressed carelessly to the gray man, whom, +as far as I am aware, no one had yet spoken to, the trifling question, +"Whether he had not, perchance, also a tent by him?" He answered her +by an obeisance most profound, as if an unmerited honor were done +him, and had already his hand in his pocket, out of which I saw come +canvas, poles, cordage, iron-work--in short, everything which belongs +to the most splendid pleasure-tent. The young gentlemen helped to +expand it, and it covered the whole extent of the carpet, and nobody +found anything remarkable in it. + +I had already become uneasy, nay, horrified at heart, but how +completely so, as, at the very next wish expressed, I saw him yet pull +out of his pocket three roadsters--I tell thee, three beautiful great +black horses, with saddle and caparison. Bethink thee! for God's +sake!--three saddled horses, still out of the same pocket from which +already a pocket-book, a telescope, an embroidered carpet, twenty +paces long and ten broad, a pleasure-tent of equal dimensions, and all +the requisite poles and irons, had come forth! If I did not protest to +thee that I saw it myself with my own eyes, thou couldst not possibly +believe it. + +Embarrassed and obsequious as the man himself appeared to be, little +as was the attention which had been bestowed upon him, yet to me his +grisly aspect, from which I could not turn my eyes, became so fearful +that I could bear it no longer. + +I resolved to steal away from the company, which from the +insignificant part I played in it seemed to me an easy affair. I +proposed to myself to return to the city, to try my luck again on the +morrow with Mr. John, and if I could muster the necessary courage, +to question him about the singular gray man. Had I only had the good +fortune to escape so well! + +I had already actually succeeded in stealing through the rosary, and, +in descending the hill, found myself on a piece of lawn, when, fearing +to be encountered in crossing the grass out of the path, I cast an +inquiring glance round me. What was my terror to behold the man in the +gray coat behind me, and making toward me! In the next moment he took +off his hat before me, and bowed so low as no one had ever yet done to +me. There was no doubt but that he wished to address me, and, without +being rude, I could not prevent it. I also took off my hat; bowed +also; and stood there in the sun with bare head as if rooted to the +ground. I stared at him full of terror, and was like a bird which a +serpent has fascinated. He himself appeared very much embarrassed. +He raised not his eyes; again bowed repeatedly; drew nearer, and +addressed me with a soft, tremulous voice, almost in a tone of +supplication. + +"May I hope, sir, that you will pardon my boldness in venturing in so +unusual a manner to approach you, but I would ask a favor. Permit me +most condescendingly----" + +"But in God's name!" exclaimed I in my trepidation, "what can I do for +a man who--" we both started, and, as I believe, reddened. + +After a moment's silence, he again resumed: "During the short time +that I had the happiness to find myself near you, I have, sir, +many times--allow me to say it to you--really contemplated with +inexpressible admiration, the beautiful, beautiful, shadow which, as +it were, with a certain noble disdain, and without yourself remarking +it, you cast from you in the sunshine. The noble shadow at your feet +there. Pardon me the bold supposition, but possibly you might not be +indisposed to make this shadow over to me." + +He was silent, and a mill-wheel seemed to whirl round in my head. What +was I to make of this singular proposition to sell my own shadow? +He must be mad, thought I, and with an altered tone which was more +assimilated to that of his own humility, I answered thus: + +"Ha! ha! good friend, have not you then enough of your own shadow? I +take this for a business of a very singular sort--" + +He hastily interrupted me--"I have many things in my pocket which, +sir, might not appear worthless to you, and for this inestimable +shadow I hold the very highest price too small." + +It struck cold through me again as I was reminded of the pocket. +I knew not how I could have called him good friend. I resumed the +conversation, and sought, if possible, to set all right again by +excessive politeness. + +"But, sir, pardon your most humble servant; I do not understand your +meaning. How indeed could my shadow"--he interrupted me-- + +"I beg your permission only here on the spot to be allowed to take up +this noble shadow and put it in my pocket; how I shall do that, be my +care. On the other hand, as a testimony of my grateful acknowledgment +to you, I give you the choice of all the treasures which I carry in my +pocket--the genuine Spring-root, the Mandrake-root, the Change-penny, +the Rob-dollar, the Napkin of Roland's Page, a Mandrake-man, at your +own price. But these probably don't interest you--rather Fortunatus' +Wishing-cap newly and stoutly repaired, and a lucky-bag such as he +had!" + +"The Luck-purse of Fortunatus!" I exclaimed, interrupting him; and +great as my anxiety was, with that one word he had taken my whole mind +captive. A dizziness seized me, and double ducats seemed to glitter +before my eyes. + +"Honored Sir, will you do me the favor to view, and to make trial +of this purse?" He thrust his hand into his pocket, and drew out a +tolerably large, well-sewed purse of stout Corduan leather, with two +strong strings, and handed it to me. I plunged my hand into it, and +drew out ten gold pieces, and again ten, and again ten, and again ten. +I extended him eagerly my hand "Agreed! the business is done; for the +purse you have my shadow!" + +He closed with me; kneeled instantly down before me, and I beheld him, +with an admirable dexterity, gently loosen my shadow from top to toe +from the grass, lift it up, roll it together, fold it, and, finally, +pocket it. He arose, made me another obeisance, and retreated toward +the rosary. I fancied that I heard him there softly laughing to +himself; but I held the purse fast by the strings; all round me lay +the clear sunshine, and within me was yet no power of reflection. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +At length I came to myself, and hastened to quit the place where I had +nothing more to expect. In the first place I filled my pockets with +gold; then I secured the strings of the purse fast round my neck, and +concealed the purse itself in my bosom. I passed unobserved out of the +park, reached the highway and took the road to the city. As, sunk +in thought, I approached the gate, I heard a cry behind me--"Young +gentleman! eh! young gentleman! hear you!" I looked round, an old +woman called after me. "Do take care, sir, you have lost your shadow!" +"Thank you, good mother!" I threw her a gold piece for her well-meant +information, and stopped under the trees. + +At the city gate I was compelled to hear again from the +sentinel--"Where has the gentleman left his shadow?" And immediately +again from some women--"Jesus Maria! the poor fellow has no shadow!" +That began to irritate me, and I became especially careful not to walk +in the sun. This could not, however, be accomplished everywhere--for +instance, over the broad street which I next must cross, actually, as +mischief would have it, at the very moment that the boys came out +of school. A cursed hunch-backed rogue, I see him yet, spied out +instantly that I had no shadow. He proclaimed the fact with a loud +outcry to the whole assembled literary street youth of the suburb, +who began forthwith to criticise me, and to pelt me with mud. "Decent +people are accustomed to take their shadows with them, when they go +into the sunshine." To defend myself from them I threw whole handfuls +of gold amongst them and sprang into a hackney-coach, which some +compassionate soul procured for me. + +As soon as I found myself alone in the rolling carriage I began to +weep bitterly. The presentiment must already have arisen in me that, +far as gold on earth transcends in estimation merit and virtue, +so much higher than gold itself is the shadow valued; and as I had +earlier sacrificed wealth to conscience, I had now thrown away the +shadow for mere gold. What in the world could and would become of me! + +I was still greatly discomposed as the carriage stopped before my +old inn. I was horrified at the bare idea of entering that wretched +cock-loft. I ordered my things to be brought down; received my +miserable bundle with contempt, threw down some gold pieces, and +ordered the coachman to drive to the most fashionable hotel. The house +faced the north, and I had not the sun to fear. I dismissed the driver +with gold; caused the best front rooms to be assigned me, and shut +myself up in them as quickly as I could! + +What thinkest thou I now began? Oh, my dear Chamisso, to confess it +even to thee makes me blush. I drew the unlucky purse from my bosom, +and with a kind of rage which, like a rushing conflagration, grew in +me with self-increasing growth, I extracted gold, and gold, and gold, +and ever more gold, and strewed it on the floor, and strode amongst +it, and made it ring again, and, feeding my poor heart on the splendor +and the sound, flung continually more metal to metal, till in my +weariness I sank down on the rich heap, and, rioting thereon, rolled +and reveled upon it. So passed the day, the evening. I opened not my +door; the night found me lying on my gold, and then sleep overcame me. + +I dreamed of thee. I seemed to stand behind the glass-door of thy +little room, and to see thee sitting then at thy work-table, between +a skeleton and a bundle of dried plants. Before thee lay open Haller, +Humboldt, and Linnaeus; on thy sofa a volume of Goethe and "The Magic +Ring." I regarded thee long, and everything in thy room, and then thee +again. Thou didst not move, thou drewest no breath--thou wert dead! + +I awoke. It appeared still to be very early. My watch stood. I was +sore all over; thirsty and hungry too; I had taken nothing since the +morning before. I pushed from me with loathing and indignation the +gold on which I had before sated my foolish heart. In my vexation +I knew not what I should do with it. It must not lie there. I tried +whether the purse would swallow it again--but no! None of my windows +opened upon the sea. I found myself compelled laboriously to drag it +to a great cupboard which stood in a cabinet, and there to pile it. I +left only some handfuls of it lying. When I had finished the work, I +threw myself exhausted into an easy chair, and waited for the stirring +of the people in the house. As soon as possible I ordered food to be +brought, and the landlord to come to me. + +I fixed in consultation with this man the future arrangements of +my house. He recommended for the services about my person a certain +Bendel, whose honest and intelligent physiognomy immediately +captivated me. He it was whose attachment has since accompanied me +consolingly through the wretchedness of life, and has helped me +to support my gloomy lot. I spent the whole day in my room among +masterless servants, shoemakers, tailors, and tradespeople. I fitted +myself out, and purchased besides a great many jewels and valuables +for the sake of getting rid of some of the vast heap of hoarded-up +gold; but it seemed to me as if it were impossible to diminish it. + +In the meantime I brooded over my situation in the most agonizing +doubts. I dared not venture a step out of my doors, and at evening I +caused forty waxlights to be lit in my room before I issued from +the shade. I thought with horror on the terrible scene with the +schoolboys, yet I resolved, much courage as it demanded, once more to +make a trial of public opinion. The nights were then moonlight. Late +in the evening I threw on a wide cloak, pressed my hat over my eyes, +and stole, trembling like a criminal, out of the house. I stepped +first out of the shade in whose protection I had arrived so far, in +a remote square, into the full moonlight, determined to learn my fate +out of the mouths of the passers-by. + +Spare me, dear friend, the painful repetition of all that I had to +endure. The women often testified the deepest compassion with which +I inspired them, declarations which no less transpierced me than the +mockery of the youth and the proud contempt of the men, especially +of those fat, well fed fellows, who themselves cast a broad shadow. +A lovely and sweet girl, who, as it seemed, accompanied her parents, +while these discreetly only looked before their feet, turned by chance +her flashing eyes upon me. She was obviously terrified; she observed +my want of a shadow, let fall her veil over her beautiful countenance, +and dropping her head, passed in silence. + +I could bear it no longer. Briny streams started from my eyes, and, +cut to the heart, I staggered back into the shade. I was obliged to +support myself against the houses to steady my steps and wearily and +late reached my dwelling. + +I spent a sleepless night. The next morning it was my first care to +have the man in the gray coat everywhere sought after. Possibly I +might succeed in finding him again, and how joyful if he repented of +the foolish bargain as heartily as I did! I ordered Bendel to me, for +he appeared to possess address and tact; I described to him exactly +the man in whose possession lay a treasure without which my life was +only a misery. I told him the time, the place in which I had seen him; +I described to him all who had been present, and added, moreover, this +token: he should particularly inquire after a Dollond's telescope; +after a gold interwoven Turkish carpet; after a splendid +pleasure-tent; and, finally, after the black chargers, whose story, +we knew not how, was connected with that of the mysterious man, who +seemed of no consideration amongst them, and whose appearance had +destroyed the quiet and happiness of my life. + +When I had done speaking I fetched out gold, such a load that I was +scarcely able to carry it, and added thereto precious stones and +jewels of a far greater value. "Bendel," said I, "these level many +ways, and make easy many things which appeared quite impossible; don't +be stingy with it, as I am not, but go and rejoice thy master with the +intelligence on which his only hope depends." + +He went. He returned late and sorrowful. None of the people of Mr. +John, none of his guests, and he had spoken with all, were able, in +the remotest degree, to recollect the man in the gray coat. The new +telescope was there, and no one knew whence it had come; the carpet, +the tent were still there spread and pitched on the selfsame hill; +the servants boasted of the affluence of their master, and no one +knew whence these new valuables had come to him. He himself took his +pleasure in them, and did not trouble himself because he did not know +whence he had them. The young gentlemen had the horses, which they had +ridden, in their stables, and they praised the liberality of Mr. John +who on that day made them a present of them. Thus much was clear from +the circumstantial relation of Bendel, whose active zeal and able +proceeding, although with such fruitless result, received from me +their merited commendation. I gloomily motioned him to leave me alone. + +"I have," began he again, "given my master an account of the matter +which was most important to him. I have yet a message to deliver which +a person gave me whom I met at the door as I went out on the business +in which I have been so unfortunate. The very words of the man were +these: 'Tell Mr. Peter Schlemihl he will not see me here again, as I +am going over sea, and a favorable wind calls me at this moment to +the harbor. But in a year and a day I will have the honor to seek +him myself, and then to propose to him another and probably to him +agreeable transaction. Present my most humble compliments to him, +and assure him of my thanks.' I asked him who he was, but he replied +that your honor knew him already." + +"What was the man's appearance?" cried I, filled with foreboding, and +Bendel sketched me the man in the gray coat, trait by trait, word for +word, as he had accurately described in his former relation the man +after whom he had inquired. + +"Unhappy one!" I exclaimed, wringing my hands--"that was the very +man!" and there fell, as it were, scales from his eyes. + +"Yes! it was he, it was, positively!" cried he in horror, "and +I, blind and imbecile wretch, have not recognized him, have not +recognized him, and have betrayed my master!" + +He broke out into violent weeping; heaped the bitterest reproaches +on himself, and the despair in which he was inspired even me with +compassion. I spoke comfort to him, assured him repeatedly that I +entertained not the slightest doubt of his fidelity, and sent him +instantly to the port, if possible to follow the traces of this +singular man. But in the morning a great number of ships which the +contrary winds had detained in the harbor, had run out, bound to +different climes and different shores, and the gray man had vanished +as tracelessly as a dream. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Of what avail are wings to him who is fast bound in iron fetters? He +is compelled only the more fearfully to despair. I lay, like Faffner +by his treasure, far from every consolation, starving in the midst +of my gold. But my heart was not in it; on the contrary, I cursed it, +because I saw myself through it cut off from all life. Brooding over +my gloomy secret alone, I trembled before the meanest of my servants, +whom at the same time I was forced to envy, for he had a shadow; he +might show himself in the sun. I wore away days and nights in solitary +sorrow in my chamber, and anguish gnawed at my heart. + +There was another who pined away before my eyes; my faithful Bendel +never ceased to torture himself with silent reproaches, that he +had betrayed the trust reposed in him by his master, and had not +recognized him after whom he was dispatched, and with whom he must +believe that my sorrowful fate was intimately interwoven. I could not +lay the fault to his charge; I recognized in the event the mysterious +nature of the Unknown. + +That I might leave nothing untried, I one time sent Bendel with a +valuable brilliant ring to the most celebrated painter of the city, +and begged that he would pay me a visit. He came. I ordered my people +to retire, closed the door, seated myself by the man, and, after I had +praised his art, I came with a heavy heart to the business, causing +him before that to promise the strictest secrecy. + +"Mr. Professor," said I, "could not you, think you, paint a false +shadow for one who, by the most unlucky chance in the world, has +become deprived of his own?" + +"You mean a personal shadow?" + +"That is precisely my meaning"-- + +"But," continued he, "through what awkwardness, through what +negligence, could he then lose his proper shadow?" + +"How it happened," replied I, "is now of very little consequence, but +thus far I may say," added I, lying shamelessly to him; "in Russia, +whither he made a journey last winter, in an extraordinary cold his +shadow froze so fast to the ground that he could by no means loose it +again." + +"The false shadow that I could paint him," replied the professor, +"would only be such a one as by the slightest movement he might lose +again, especially a person, who, as appears by your relation, has so +little adhesion to his own native shadow. He who has no shadow, let +him keep out of the sunshine--that is the safest and most sensible +thing for him." He arose and withdrew, casting at me a trans-piercing +glance which mine could not support. I sunk back in my seat, and +covered my face with my hands. + +Thus Bendel found me, as he at length entered. He saw the grief of his +master, and was desirous silently and reverently to withdraw. I looked +up, I succumbed under the burden of my trouble; I must communicate it. + +"Bendel!" cried I, "Bendel, thou only one who seest my affliction and +respectest it, seekest not to pry into it, but appearest silently and +kindly to sympathize, come to me, Bendel, and be the nearest to my +heart; I have not locked from thee the treasure of my gold, neither +will I lock from thee the treasure of my grief. Bendel, forsake me +not! Bendel, thou beholdest me rich, liberal, kind. Thou imaginest +that the world ought to honor me, and thou seest me fly the world, and +hide myself from it. Bendel, the world has passed judgment, and cast +me from it, and perhaps thou too wilt turn from me when thou knowest +my fearful secret. Bendel, I am rich, liberal, kind, but--O God!--I +have no shadow!" + +"No shadow!" cried the good youth with horror, and the bright +tears gushed from his eyes. "Woe is me, that I was born to serve a +shadowless master!" He was silent, and I held my face buried in my +hands. + +"Bendel," added I, at length, tremblingly--"now hast thou my +confidence, and now canst thou betray it--go forth and testify against +me?" He appeared to be in a heavy conflict with himself; at length, he +flung himself before me and seized my hand, which he bathed with his +tears. + +"No!" exclaimed he, "think the world as it will, I cannot, and will +not, on account of a shadow, abandon my kind master; I will act +justly, and not with policy. I will continue with you, lend you my +shadow, help you when I can, and when I cannot, weep with you." I fell +on his neck, astonished at such unusual sentiment, for I was convinced +that he did it not for gold. + +From that time my fate and my mode of life were in some degree +changed. It is indescribable how providently Bendel continued to +conceal my defect. He was everywhere before me and with me; foreseeing +everything, hitting on contrivances, and, where unforeseen danger +threatened, covering me quickly with his shadow, since he was taller +and bulkier than I. Thus I ventured myself again among men, and began +to play a part in the world. I was obliged, it is true, to assume many +peculiarities and humors, but such become the rich, and, so long +as the truth continued to be concealed, I enjoyed all the honor and +respect which were paid to my wealth. I looked more calmly forward to +the promised visit of the mysterious unknown, at the end of the year +and the day. + +I felt, indeed, that I must not remain long in a place where I had +once been seen without a shadow, and where I might easily be betrayed. +Perhaps I yet thought too much of the manner in which I had introduced +myself to Thomas John, and it was a mortifying recollection. I would +therefore here merely make an experiment, to present myself with more +ease and self-reliance elsewhere, but that now occurred which held me +a long time riveted to my vanity, for there it is in the man that the +anchor bites the firmest ground. + +Even the lovely Fanny, whom I in this place again encountered, honored +me with some notice without recollecting ever to have seen me before; +for I now had wit and sense. As I spoke, people listened, and I could +not, for the life of me, comprehend myself how I had arrived at the +art of maintaining and engrossing so easily the conversation. The +impression which I perceived that I had made on the fair one, made +of me just what she desired--a fool; and I thenceforward followed her +through shade and twilight wherever I could. I was only so far vain +that I wished to make her vain of myself, and found it impossible, +even with the very best intentions, to force the intoxication from my +head to my heart. + +But why repeat to thee the absolutely every-day story at length? Thou +thyself hast often related it to me of other honorable people. To the +old, well-known play in which I good-naturedly undertook a worn-out +part, there came in truth to her and me, and everybody, unexpectedly a +most peculiarly thought-out catastrophe. + +As, according to my wont, I had assembled on a beautiful evening +a party in a garden, I wandered with the lady, arm in arm, at some +distance from the other guests, and exerted myself to strike out +pretty speeches for her. She cast her eyes down modestly, and returned +gently the pressure of my hand, when suddenly the moon broke through +the clouds behind us, and--she saw only her own shadow thrown forward +before her! She started and glanced wildly at me, then again on the +earth, seeking my shadow with her eyes, and what passed within her +painted itself so singularly on her countenance that I should have +burst into a loud laugh if it had not itself run ice-cold over my +back. + +I let her fall from my arms in a swoon, shot like an arrow through the +terrified guests, reached the door, flung myself into the first chaise +which I saw on the stand, and drove back to the city, where this time, +to my cost, I had left the circumspect Bendel. He was terrified as +he saw me; one word revealed to him all. Post horses were immediately +fetched. I took only one of my people with me, an arrant knave, called +Rascal, who had contrived to make himself necessary to me by his +cleverness and who could suspect nothing of today's occurrence. That +night I left upward of thirty miles behind me. Bendel remained behind +me to discharge my establishment, to pay money, and to bring me what +I most required. When he overtook me next day, I threw myself into his +arms, and swore to him never again to run into the like folly, but in +future to be more cautious. We continued our journey without pause, +over the frontiers and the mountains, and it was not till we began to +descend and had placed those lofty bulwarks between us and our former +unlucky abode, that I allowed myself to be persuaded to rest from +the fatigues I had undergone, in a neighboring and little frequented +Bathing-place. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +I must pass in my relation hastily over a time in which how gladly +would I linger, could I but conjure up the living spirit of it with +the recollection. But the color which vivified it, and alone can +vivify it again, is extinguished in me; and when I seek in my bosom +what then so mightily animated it, the grief and the joy, the innocent +illusion--then do I vainly smite a rock in which no living spring now +dwells, and the god is departed from me. How changed does this past +time now appear to me! I would act in the watering place an heroic +character, ill studied, and myself a novice on the boards, and my gaze +was lured from my part by a pair of blue eyes. The parents, deluded by +the play, offer everything only to make the business quickly secure; +and the poor farce closes in mockery. And that is all, all! That +presents itself now to me so absurd and commonplace, and yet it is +terrible, that that can thus appear to me which then so richly, so +luxuriantly, swelled my bosom. Mina! as I wept at losing thee, so weep +I still to have lost thee also in myself. Am I then become so old? Oh, +melancholy reason! Oh, but for one pulsation of that time! one moment +of that illusion! But no! alone on the high waste sea of thy bitter +flood! and long out of the last cup of champagne the elfin has +vanished! + +I had sent forward Bendel with some purses of gold to procure for +me in the little town a dwelling adapted to my needs. He had +there scattered about much money, and expressed himself somewhat +indefinitely respecting the distinguished stranger whom he served, +for I would not be named, and that filled the good people with +extraordinary fancies. As soon as my house was ready Bendel returned +to conduct me thither. We set out. + +About three miles from the place, on a sunny plain, our progress was +obstructed by a gay festal throng. The carriage stopped. Music, sound +of bells, discharge of cannon, were heard; a loud _vivat_! rent the +air; before the door of the carriage appeared, clad in white, a troop +of damsels of extraordinary beauty, but who were eclipsed by one in +particular, as the stars of night by the sun. She stepped forth +from the midst of her sisters; the tall and delicate figure kneeled +blushing before me, and presented to me on a silken cushion a garland +woven of laurel, olive branches, and roses, while she uttered some +words about majesty, veneration and love, which I did not understand, +but whose bewitching silver tone intoxicated my ear and heart. It +seemed as if the heavenly apparition had some time previously passed +before me. The chorus struck in, and sung the praises of a good king +and the happiness of his people. + +And this scene, my dear friend, in the face of the sun! She kneeled +still only two paces from me, and I, without a shadow, could not +spring over the gulf, could not also fall on the knee before the +angel! Oh! what would I then have given for a shadow! I was compelled +to hide my shame, my anguish, my despair, deep in the bottom of my +carriage. At length Bendel recollected himself on my behalf. He leaped +out of the carriage on the other side. I called him back, and gave +him out of my jewel-case, which lay at hand, a splendid diamond crown, +which had been made to adorn the brows of the lovely Fanny! He stepped +forward and spoke in the name of his master, who could not and would +not receive such tokens of homage; there must be some mistake; but the +people of the city should be thanked for their good-will. As he said +this, he took up the proffered wreath, and laid the brilliant coronet +in its place. He then respectfully extended his hand to the lovely +maiden, that she might arise, and dismissed, with a sign, clergy, +magistrates, and all the deputations. No one else was allowed to +approach. He ordered the throng to divide and make way for the horses, +sprang again into the carriage, and on we went at full gallop, +through a festive archway of foliage and flowers toward the city. The +discharges of cannon continued. The carriage stopped before my house. +I sprang hastily in at the door, dividing the crowd which the desire +to see me had collected. The mob hurrahed under my window, and I let +double ducats rain out of it. In the evening the city was voluntarily +illuminated. + +And yet I did not at all know what all this could mean, and who I was +supposed to be. I sent out Rascal to make inquiry. He brought word to +this effect: That the people had received reliable intelligence that +the good king of Prussia traveled through the country under the name +of a count; that my adjutant had been recognized, thus betraying +himself and me; and, finally, how great the joy was as they became +certain that they really had me in the place. They now, 'tis true, +saw clearly that I evidently desired to maintain the strictest +_incognito_, and how very wrong it had been to attempt so +importunately to lift the veil. But I had resented it so graciously, +so kindly--I should certainly pardon their good-heartedness. + +The thing appeared so amusing to the rogue that he did his best, by +reproving words, to strengthen, for the present, the good folk in +their belief. He gave a very comical report of all this to me; and +as he found that it diverted me, he made a joke to me of his own +wickedness. Shall I confess it? It flattered me, even by such means, +to be taken for that honored head. + +I commanded a feast to be prepared for the evening of the next day +beneath the trees which overshadowed the open space before my house, +and the whole city to be invited to it. The mysterious power of +my purse, the exertions of Bendel, and the inventiveness of Rascal +succeeded in triumphing over time itself. It is really astonishing how +richly and beautifully everything was arranged in those few hours. The +splendor and abundance which exhibited themselves, and the ingenious +lighting up, so admirably contrived that I felt myself quite secure, +left me nothing to desire. I could not but praise my servants. + +The evening grew dark; the guests appeared, and were presented to me. +Nothing more was said about Majesty; I was styled with deep reverence +and obeisance, Count. What was to be done? I allowed the title to +stand, and remained from that hour Count Peter. In the midst of +festive multitudes my soul yearned alone after one. She entered +late--she was and wore the crown. She followed modestly her parents, +and seemed not to know that she was the loveliest of all. They were +presented to me as Mr. Forest-master, his lady and their daughter. +I found many agreeable and obliging things to say to the old people; +before the daughter I stood like a rebuked boy, and could not bring +out one word. I begged her, at length, with a faltering tone, to +honor this feast by assuming the office whose insignia she graced. She +entreated with blushes and a moving look to be excused; but blushing +still more than herself in her presence, I paid her as her first +subject my homage, with a most profound respect, and the hint of the +Count became to all the guests a command which every one with emulous +joy hastened to obey. Majesty, innocence, and grace presided in +alliance with beauty over a rapturous feast. Mina's happy parents +believed their child thus exalted only in honor of them. I myself was +in an indescribable intoxication. I caused all the jewels which yet +remained of those which I had formerly purchased, in order to get rid +of burthensome gold, all the pearls, all the precious stones, to +be laid in two covered dishes, and at the table, in the name of +the queen, to be distributed round to her companions and to all +the ladies. Gold, in the meantime, was incessantly strewed over the +encompassing ropes among the exulting people. + +Bendel, the next morning, revealed to me in confidence that the +suspicion which he had long entertained of Rascal's honesty was now +become certainty--that he had yesterday embezzled whole purses of +gold. "Let us permit," replied I, "the poor scoundrel to enjoy +the petty plunder. I spend willingly on everybody, why not on him? +Yesterday he and all the fresh people you have brought me served me +honestly; they helped me joyfully to celebrate a joyful feast." + +There was no further mention of it. Rascal remained the first of my +servants, but Bendel was my friend and my confidant. The latter was +accustomed to regard my wealth as inexhaustible, and he pried not +after its sources; entering into my humor, he assisted me rather to +discover opportunities to exercise it, and to spend my gold. Of that +unknown one, that pale sneak, he knew only this, that I could alone +through him be absolved from the curse which weighed on me; and that +I feared him, on whom my sole hope reposed. That, for the rest, I was +convinced that he could discover me anywhere; I him nowhere; and that +therefore awaiting the promised day, I abandoned every vain inquiry. + +The magnificence of my feast, and my behavior at it, held at first +the credulous inhabitants of the city firmly to their preconceived +opinion. True, it was soon stated in the newspapers that the whole +story of the journey of the king of Prussia had been a mere groundless +rumor: but a king I now was, and must, spite of everything, a king +remain, and truly one of the most rich and royal who had ever existed; +only people did not rightly know what king. The world has never had +reason to complain of the scarcity of monarchs, at least in our time. +The good people who had never seen any of them pitched with equal +correctness first on one and then on another; Count Peter still +remained who he was. + +At one time appeared amongst the guests at the Bath a tradesman, who +had made himself bankrupt in order to enrich himself; and who enjoyed +universal esteem, and had a broad though somewhat pale shadow. The +property which he had scraped together he resolved to lay out in +ostentation, and it even occurred to him to enter into rivalry with +me. I had recourse to my purse, and soon brought the poor devil to +such a pass that, in order to save his credit, he was obliged to +become bankrupt a second time, and hasten over the frontier. Thus +I got rid of him. In this neighborhood I made many idlers and +good-for-nothing fellows. + +With all the royal splendor and expenditure by which I made all +succumb to me, I still in my own house lived very simply and retired. +I had established the strictest circumspection as a rule. No one +except Bendel, under any pretence whatever, was allowed to enter the +rooms which I inhabited. So long as the sun shone I kept myself shut +up there, and it was said "the Count is employed with his cabinet." +With this employment numerous couriers stood in connection, whom I, +for every trifle, sent out and received. I received company in the +evening only under my trees, or in my hall arranged and lighted +according to Bendel's plan. When I went out, on which occasions it +was necessary that I should be constantly watched by the Argus eyes +of Bendel, it was only to the Forester's Garden, for the sake of one +alone; for my love was the innermost heart of my life. + +Oh, my good Chamisso! I will hope that thou hast not yet forgotten +what love is! I leave much unmentioned here to thee. Mina was really +an amiable, kind, good child. I had taken her whole imagination +captive. She could not, in her humility, conceive how she could +be worthy that I should alone have fixed my regard on her; and she +returned love for love with all the youthful power of an innocent +heart. She loved like a woman, offering herself wholly up; +self-forgetting; living wholly and solely for him who was her life; +regardless if she herself perished; that is to say--she really loved. + +But I--oh what terrible hours--terrible and yet worthy that I should +wish them back again--have I often wept on Bendel's bosom, when, +after the first unconscious intoxication, I recollected myself, looked +sharply into myself--I, without a shadow, with knavish selfishness +destroying this angel, this pure soul which I had deceived and stolen. +Then did I resolve to reveal myself to her; then did I swear with a +most passionate oath to tear myself from her, and to fly; then did +I burst out into tears, and concert with Bendel how in the evening I +should visit her in the Forester's garden. + +At other times I flattered myself with great expectations from the +rapidly approaching visit of the gray man, and wept again when I had +in vain tried to believe in it. I had calculated the day on which I +expected again to see the fearful one; for he had said in a year and a +day; and I believed his word. + +The parents, good honorable old people, who loved their only child +extremely, were amazed at the connection, as it already stood, and +they knew not what to do in it. Earlier they could not have believed +that Count Peter could think only of their child; but now he really +loved her and was beloved again. The mother was probably vain enough +to believe in the probability of a union, and to seek for it; the +sound masculine understanding of the father did not give way to such +overstretched imaginations. Both were persuaded of the purity of my +love; they could do nothing more than pray for their child. + +I have laid my hand on a letter from Mina of this date, which I still +retain. Yes, this is her own writing. I transcribe it for thee: + +"I am a weak silly maiden, and cannot believe that my beloved, because +I love him dearly, dearly, will make the poor girl unhappy. Ah! thou +art so kind, so inexpressibly kind, but do not misunderstand me. Thou +shalt sacrifice nothing for me, desire to sacrifice nothing for me. +Oh God! I should hate myself if thou didst! No--thou hast made me +immeasurably happy; hast taught me to love thee. Away! I know my own +fate. Count Peter belongs not to me, he belongs to the world. I will +be proud when I hear--'that was he, and that was he again--and that +has he accomplished; there they have worshipped him, and there they +have deified him!' See, when I think of this, then am I angry with +thee that with a simple child thou canst forget thy high destiny. +Away! or the thought will make me miserable! I--oh! who through thee +am so happy, so blessed! Have I not woven, too, an olive branch and +a rosebud into thy life, as into the wreath which I was allowed to +present to thee? I have thee in my heart, my beloved; fear not to +leave me. I will die oh! so happy, so ineffably happy through thee!" + +Thou canst imagine how the words must cut through my heart. I +explained to her that I was not what people believed me, that I was +only a rich but infinitely miserable man. That a curse rested on me, +which must be the only secret between us, since I was not yet without +hope that it should be solved. That this was the poison of my days; +that I might drag her down with me into the gulf--she who was the sole +light, the sole happiness, the sole heart of my life. Then wept she +again, because I was unhappy. Ah, she was so loving, so kind! To spare +me but one tear, she, and with what transport, would have sacrificed +herself without reserve! + +She was, however, far from rightly comprehending my words; she +conceived in me some prince on whom had fallen a heavy ban, some high +and honored head, and her imagination amidst heroic pictures limned +forth her lover gloriously. + +Once I said to her--"Mina, the last day in the next month may change +my fate and decide it--if not I must die, for I will not make thee +unhappy." Weeping she hid her head in my bosom. "If thy fortune +changes, let me know that thou art happy. I have no claim on thee. Art +thou wretched, bind me to thy wretchedness, that I may help thee to +bear it." + +"Maiden! maiden! take it back, that quick word, that foolish word +which escaped thy lips. And knowest thou this wretchedness? Knowest +thou this curse? Knowest who thy lover--what he? Seest thou not that +I convulsively shrink together, and have a secret from thee?" She fell +sobbing to my feet, and repeated with oaths her entreaty. + +I announced to the Forest-master, who entered, that it was my +intention on the first of the approaching month to solicit the hand of +his daughter. I fixed precisely this time, because in the interim many +things might occur which might influence my fortunes; but I insisted +that I was unchangeable in my love to his daughter. + +The good man was quite startled as he heard such words out of the +mouth of Count Peter. He fell on my neck, and again became quite +ashamed to have thus forgotten himself. Then he began to doubt, to +weigh, and to inquire. He spoke of dowry, security, and the future of +his beloved child. I thanked him for reminding me of these things. I +told him that I desired to settle down in this neighborhood where I +seemed to be beloved, and to lead a care-free life. I begged him to +purchase the finest estates that the country had to offer, in the name +of his daughter, and to charge the cost to me. A father could, in such +matter, best serve a lover. It gave him enough to do, for everywhere +a stranger was before him, and he could only purchase for about a +million. + +My thus employing him was, at the bottom, an innocent scheme to remove +him to a distance, and I had employed him similarly before; for I +must confess that he was rather wearisome. The good mother was, on the +contrary, somewhat deaf, and not, like him, jealous of the honor of +entertaining the Count. + +The mother joined us. The happy people pressed me to stay longer with +them that evening--I dared not remain another minute. I saw already +the rising moon glimmer on the horizon--my time was up. + +The next evening I went again to the Forester's garden. I had thrown +my cloak over my shoulders and pulled my hat over my eyes. I advanced +to Mina. As she looked up and beheld me, she gave an involuntary +start, and there stood again clear before my soul the apparition of +that terrible night when I showed myself in the moonlight without a +shadow. It was actually she! But had she also recognized me again? She +was silent and thoughtful; on my bosom lay a hundred-weight pressure. +I arose from my seat. She threw herself silently weeping on my bosom. +I went. + +I now found her often in tears. It grew darker and darker in my soul; +the parents swam only in supreme felicity; the faith-day passed on sad +and sullen as a thunder-cloud. The eve of the day was come. I could +scarcely breathe. I had in precaution filled several chests with gold. +I watched the midnight hour approach--It struck. + +I now sat, my eye fixed on the fingers of the clock, counting the +seconds, the minutes, like dagger-strokes. At every noise which +arose, I started up; the day broke. The leaden hours crowded one upon +another. It was noon--evening--night; as the clock fingers sped on, +hope withered; it struck eleven and nothing appeared; the last minutes +of the last hour fell, and nothing appeared. It struck the first +stroke--the last stroke of the twelfth hour, and I sank hopeless +and in boundless tears upon my bed. On the morrow I should--forever +shadowless, solicit the hand of my beloved. Toward morning an anxious +sleep pressed down my eyelids. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +It was still early morning when voices, which were raised in my +ante-chamber in violent dispute, awoke me. I listened. Bendel forbade +entrance; Rascal swore high and hotly that he would receive no +commands from his equal, and insisted on forcing his way into my room. +The good Bendel warned him that such words, came they to my ear, would +turn him out of his most advantageous service. Rascal threatened to +lay hands on him if he any longer obstructed his entrance. + +I had half dressed myself. I flung the door wrathfully open, and +advanced to Rascal--"What wantest thou, villain?" He stepped two +strides backward, and replied quite coolly: "To request you most +humbly, Count, for once to allow me to see your shadow--the sun shines +at this moment so beautifully in the court." + +I was struck as with thunder. It was some time before I could recover +my speech. "How can a servant toward his master"--he interrupted very +calmly my speech. + +"A servant may be a very honorable man, and not be willing to serve +a shadowless master--I demand my discharge." It was necessary to try +other chords. "But honest, dear Rascal, who has put the unlucky idea +into your head? How canst thou believe--?" + +He proceeded in the same tone: "People will assert that you have +no shadow--and, in short, you show me your shadow, or give me my +discharge." + +Bendel, pale and trembling, but more discreet than I, gave me a sign. +I sought refuge in the all-silencing gold; but that too had lost +its power. He threw it at my feet. "From a shadowless man I accept +nothing!" He turned his back upon me, and went most deliberately out +of the room with his hat upon his head, and whistling a tune. I stood +there with Bendel as one turned to stone, thoughtless, motionless, +gazing after him. + +Heavily sighing and with death in my heart, I prepared myself at last +to redeem my promise, and, like a criminal before his judge, to appear +in the Forest-master's garden. I alighted in the dark arbor, which was +named after me, and where they would be sure also this time to await +me. The mother met me, care-free and joyous. Mina sat there, pale and +lovely as the first snow which often in the autumn kisses the +last flowers and then instantly dissolves into bitter water. The +Forest-master went agitatedly to and fro, a written paper in his +hand, and appeared to force down many things in himself which painted +themselves with rapidly alternating flushes and paleness on his +otherwise immovable countenance. He came up to me as I entered, and +with frequently choked words begged to speak with me alone. The path +in which he invited me to follow him, led us toward an open, sunny +part of the garden. I sank speechless on a seat, and then followed a +long silence which even the good mother dared not interrupt. + +The Forest-master raged continually with unequal steps to and fro in +the arbor, and, suddenly halting before me, glanced on the paper which +he held, and demanded of me with a searching look-- + +"May not, Count, a certain Peter Schlemihl be not quite unknown +to you?" I was silent. "A man of superior character and singular +attainments--" He paused for an answer. + +"And suppose I were the same man?" + +"Who," added he vehemently--"has, by some means, lost his shadow!" + +"Oh, my foreboding, my foreboding!" exclaimed Mina. "Yes, I have long +known it, he has no shadow;" and she flung herself into the arms of +her mother, who, terrified, clasped her convulsively, and upbraided +her that to her own hurt she had kept to herself such a secret. But +she, like Arethusa, was changed into a fountain of tears, which at the +sound of my voice flowed still more copiously and at my approach burst +forth in torrents. + +"And you," again grimly began the Forest-master, "and you, with +unparalleled impudence, have made no scruple to deceive these and +myself, and you give out that you love her whom you brought into this +predicament. See, there, how she weeps and writhes! Oh, horrible! +horrible!" + +I had to such a degree lost my composure that, talking like one +crazed, I began--"And, after all, a shadow is nothing but a shadow; +one can do very well without that, and it is not worth while to make +such a riot about it." But I felt so sharply the baselessness of what +I was saying that I stopped of myself, without his deigning me an +answer, and I then added--"What one has lost at one time may be found +again at another!" + +He fiercely rebuked me "Confess to me, sir, confess to me, how became +you deprived of your shadow!" + +I was compelled again to lie. "A rude fellow one day trod so heavily +on my shadow that he rent a great hole in it. I have only sent it to +be mended, for money can do much, and I was to have received it back +yesterday." + +"Good, sir, very good!" replied the Forest-master. "You solicit my +daughter's hand; others do the same. I have, as her father, to care +for her. I give you three days in which you may seek for a shadow. If +you appear before me within these three days with a good, well-fitting +shadow, you shall be welcome to me; but on the fourth day--I tell you +plainly--my daughter is the wife of another." + +I would yet attempt to speak a word to Mina, but she clung, sobbing +violently, only closer to her mother's breast, who silently motioned +me to withdraw. I reeled away, and the world seemed to close itself +behind me. + +Escaped from Bendel's affectionate oversight, I traversed in erring +course woods and fields. The perspiration of my agony dropped from my +brow, a hollow groaning convulsed my bosom, madness raged within me. + +I know not how long this had continued, when, on a sunny heath, I felt +myself plucked by the sleeve. I stood still and looked round--it was +the man in the gray coat, who seemed to have run himself quite out of +breath in pursuit of me. He immediately began: + +"I had announced myself for today, but you could not wait the time. +There is nothing amiss, however, yet. You consider the matter, receive +your shadow again in exchange, which is at your service, and turn +immediately back. You shall be welcome in the Forest-master's garden; +the whole has been only a joke. Rascal, who has betrayed you, and who +seeks the hand of your bride, I will take charge of; the fellow is +ripe." + +I stood there as if in a dream. "Announced for today?" I counted over +again the time--he was right. I had constantly miscalculated a day. +I sought with the right hand in my bosom for my purse; he guessed my +meaning, and stepped two paces backwards. + +"No, Count, that is in too good hands, keep you that." I stared at +him with eyes of inquiring wonder, and he proceeded: "I request only a +trifle, as memento. You be so good as to set your name to this paper." +On the parchment stood the words: + +"By virtue of this my signature, I make over my soul to the holder of +this, after its natural separation from the body." + +I gazed with speechless amazement, alternately at the writing and the +gray unknown. Meanwhile, with a new-cut quill he had taken up a +drop of blood which flowed from a fresh thorn-scratch on my hand and +presented it to me. + +"Who are you, after all?" at length I asked him. + +"What does it matter?" he replied. "And is it not plainly written on +me? A poor devil, a sort of learned man and doctor, who, in return +for precious arts, receives from his friends poor thanks, and, for +himself, has no other amusement on earth but to make his little +experiments.--But, however, sign. To the right there--PETER +SCHLEMIHL." + +I shook my head, and said: "Pardon me, sir, I do not sign that." + +"Not?" replied he, in amaze; "and why not?" + +"It seems to me to a certain degree serious to stake my soul on a +shadow." + +"So, so," repeated he, "serious!" and he laughed almost in my face. +"And, if I might venture to ask, what sort of a thing is that soul of +yours? Have you ever seen it? And what do you think of doing with it +when you are dead? Be glad that you have found an amateur who in your +lifetime is willing to pay you for the bequest of this _x_, of this +galvanic power, or polarized Activity, or what-ever-this silly thing +may be, with something actual; that is to say, with your real shadow, +through which you may arrive at the hand of your beloved and at the +accomplishment of all your desires. Will you rather push forth, and +deliver up that poor young creature to that low bred scoundrel Rascal? +No, you must witness that with your own eyes. Here, I lend you the +magic-cap"--he drew it from his pocket--"and we will proceed unseen to +the Forester's garden." + +I must confess that I was excessively ashamed of being derided by this +man. I detested him from the bottom of my heart; and I believe that +this personal antipathy withheld me, more than principle or prejudice, +from purchasing my shadow, essential as it was, by the required +signature. The thought also was intolerable to me of making the +excursion which he proposed, in his company. To see this abhorred +sneak, this mocking kobold, step between me and my beloved, two torn +and bleeding hearts, revolted my innermost feeling. I regarded what +was past as predestined, and my wretchedness as unchangeable, and +turning to the man, I said to him-- + +"Sir, I have sold you my shadow for this in itself most excellent +purse, and I have sufficiently repented of it. If the bargain can be +broken off, then in God's name--!" He shook his head, and made a very +gloomy face. I continued: "I will then sell you nothing further of +mine, even for this offered price of my shadow; and, therefore, I +shall sign nothing. From this you may understand, that the muffling-up +to which you invite me must be much more amusing for you than for me. +Excuse me, therefore; and as it cannot now be otherwise, let us part." + +"It grieves me, Monsieur Schlemihl, that you obstinately decline the +business which I propose to you as a friend. Perhaps another time I +may be more fortunate. Till our speedy meeting again!--Apropos: Permit +me yet to show you that the things which I purchase I by no means +suffer to grow moldy, but honorably preserve, and that they are well +taken care of by me." + +With that he drew my shadow out of his pocket and with a dexterous +throw unfolding it on the heath, spread it out on the sunny side of +his feet, so that he walked between two attendant shadows, his own +and mine, for mine must equally obey him and accommodate itself to and +follow all his movements. + +When I once saw my poor shadow again, after so long an absence, and +beheld it degraded to so vile a service, whilst I, on its account, was +in such unspeakable trouble, my heart broke, and I began bitterly to +weep. The detested wretch swaggered with the plunder snatched from me, +and impudently renewed his proposal. + +"You can yet have it. A stroke of the pen, and you snatch therewith +the poor unhappy Mina from the claws of the villain into the arms of +the most honored Count--as observed, only a stroke of the pen." + +My tears burst forth with fresh impetuosity, but I turned away and +motioned to him to withdraw himself. Bendel, who, filled with anxiety, +had traced me to this spot, at this moment arrived. When the kind good +soul found me weeping, and saw my shadow, which could not be mistaken, +in the power of the mysterious gray man, he immediately resolved, was +it even by force, to restore to me the possession of my property; +and as he did not understand how to deal with such a tender thing, he +immediately assaulted the man with words, and, without much asking, +ordered him bluntly to return my property to me. Instead of an answer, +he turned his back to the innocent young fellow and went. But Bendel +up with his buckthorn cudgel which he carried, and, following on his +heels, without mercy, and with reiterated commands to give up the +shadow, made him feel the full force of his vigorous arm. He, as +accustomed to such handling, ducked his head, rounded his shoulders, +and with silent and deliberate steps pursued his way over the heath, +at once going off with my shadow and my faithful servant. I long heard +the heavy sounds roll over the waste, till they were finally lost in +the distance. I was alone, as before, with my misery. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Left alone on the wild heath, I gave free current to my countless +tears, relieving my heart from an ineffably weary weight. But I saw no +bound, no outlet, no end to my intolerable misery, and I drank besides +with savage thirst of the fresh poison which the unknown had poured +into my wounds. When I called the image of Mina before my soul, and +the dear, sweet form appeared pale and in tears, as I saw her last in +my shame, then stepped, impudent and mocking, Rascal's shadow between +her and me; I covered my face and fled through the wild. Yet the +hideous apparition left me not, but pursued me in my flight, till I +sank breathless on the ground, and moistened it with a fresh torrent +of tears. + +And all for a shadow! And this shadow a pen-stroke could have obtained +for me! I thought over the strange proposition and my refusal. All +was chaos in me. I had no longer either discernment or faculty of +comprehension. + +The day went along. I stilled my hunger with wild fruits, my thirst +in the nearest mountain stream. The night fell; I lay down beneath a +tree. The damp morning awoke me out of a heavy sleep in which I heard +myself rattle in the throat as in death. Bendel must have lost all +trace of me, and it rejoiced me to think so. I would not return again +amongst men before whom I fled in terror, like the timid game of the +mountains. Thus I lived through three weary days. + +On the fourth morning I found myself on a sandy plain bright with +the sun, and sat on a rock in its beams, for I loved now to enjoy its +long-withheld countenance. I silently fed my heart with its despair. A +light rustle startled me. Ready for flight I threw round me a hurried +glance; I saw no one, but in the sunny sand there glided past me a +human shadow, not unlike my own, which, wandering there alone, +seemed to have escaped from its possessor. There awoke in me a mighty +yearning. "Shadow," said I, "dost thou seek thy master? I will be he," +and I sprang forward to seize it. I thought that if I succeeded in +treading on it so that its feet touched mine, it probably would remain +hanging there, and in time accommodate itself to me. + +The shadow, on my moving, fled before me, and I was compelled to begin +a strenuous chase of the light fugitive, for which the thought of +rescuing myself from my fearful condition could alone have endowed me +with the requisite vigor. It flew toward a wood, at a great distance, +in which I must, of necessity, have lost it. I perceived this--a +horror convulsed my heart, inflamed my desire, added wings to my +speed; I gained evidently on the shadow, I came continually nearer, +I must certainly reach it. Suddenly it stopped, and turned toward me. +Like a lion on its prey, I shot with a mighty spring forward to make +seizure of it--and dashed unexpectedly against a hard and bodily +object. Invisibly I received the most unprecedented blows on the ribs +that mortal man probably ever received. + +The effect of the terror in me was convulsively to close my arms, +and firmly to inclose that which stood unseen before me. In the rapid +transaction I plunged forward to the ground, but backward and under me +was a man whom I had embraced and who now first became visible. + +The whole occurrence then became very naturally explicable to me. The +man must have carried the invisible bird's nest which renders him who +holds it, but not his shadow, imperceptible, and had now cast it away. +I glanced round, soon discovered the shadow of the invisible nest +itself, leaped up and toward it, and did not miss the precious prize. +Invisible and shadowless, I held the nest in my hand. + +The man swiftly springing up, gazing round instantly after his +fortunate conqueror, descried on the wide sunny plain neither him nor +his shadow, for which he sought with especial avidity. For that I was +myself entirely shadowless he had no leisure to remark, nor could he +imagine such a thing. Having convinced himself that every trace had +vanished, he turned his hand against himself and tore his hair in +great despair. To me, however, the acquired treasure had given +the power and desire to mix again amongst men. I did not want for +self-satisfying palliatives for my base robbery, or, rather, I had no +need of them; and to escape from every thought of the kind, I hastened +away, not even looking round at the unhappy one, whose deploring voice +I long heard resounding behind me. Thus, at least, appeared to me the +circumstances at the time. + +I was on fire to proceed to the Forester's garden, and there myself +to discern the truth of what the Detested One had told me. I knew not, +however, where I was. I climbed the next hill, in order to look round +over the country, and perceived from its summit the near city and the +Forester's garden lying at my feet. My heart beat violently, and tears +of another kind than what I had till now shed rushed into my eyes. I +should see her again! Anxious desire hastened my steps down the most +direct path. I passed unseen some peasants who came out of the city. +They were talking of me, of Rascal, and the Forest-master; I would +hear nothing--I hurried past. + +I entered the garden, all the tremor of expectation in my bosom. I +seemed to hear laughter near me. I shuddered, threw a rapid glance +round me, but could discover nobody. I advanced farther. I seemed to +perceive a sound as of man's steps near me, but there was nothing to +be seen. I believed myself deceived by my ear. It was yet early, no +one in Count Peter's arbor, the garden still empty. I traversed the +well-known paths. I penetrated to the very front of the dwelling. +The same noise more distinctly followed me. I seated myself with an +agonized heart on a bench which stood in the sunny space before the +house-door. It seemed as if I had heard the unseen kobold, laughing in +mockery, seat himself near me. The key turned in the door, it opened, +and the Forest-master issued forth with papers in his hand. A mist +seemed to envelop my head. I looked up, and--horror! the man in the +gray coat sat by me, gazing on me with a satanic leer. He had drawn +his magic-cap at once over his head and mine; at his feet lay his +and my shadow peaceably by each other. He played negligently with +the well-known parchment which he held in his hand, and as the +Forest-master, busied with his documents, went to and fro in the +shadow of the arbor, he stooped familiarly to my ear and whispered +in it these words--"So then you have, notwithstanding, accepted my +invitation, and here sit we for once, two heads under one cap. All +right! all right! But now give me my bird's nest again; you have no +further need of it, and are too honest a man to wish to withhold it +from me; but there needs no thanks; I assure you that I have lent it +you with the most hearty good will." He took it unceremoniously out +of my hand, put it in his pocket, and laughed at me again, and that so +loud that the Forest-master himself looked round at the noise. I sat +there as if changed to stone. + +"But you must admit," continued he, "that such a cap is much more +convenient. It covers not only your person but your shadow at the same +time, and as many others as you have a mind to take with you. See you +again today. I conduct two of them"--he laughed again. "Mark this, +Schlemihl; what we at first won't do with a good will, that will we +in the end be compelled to. I still fancy you will buy that thing +from me, take back the bride (for it is yet time), and we leave Rascal +dangling on the gallows, an easy thing for us so long as rope is to be +had. Hear you--I will give you also my cap into the bargain." + +The mother came forth, and the conversation began. "How goes it with +Mina?" + +"She weeps." + +"Silly child! it cannot be altered!" + +"Certainly not; but to give her to another so soon? Oh, man! thou art +cruel to thy own child." + +"No, mother, that thou quite mistakest. When she, even before she has +wept out her childish tears, finds herself the wife of a very rich and +honorable man, she will awake comforted out of her trouble as out of a +dream, and thank God and us--that shalt thou see!" + +"God grant it!" + +"She possesses now, indeed, a very respectable property; but after the +stir that this unlucky affair with the adventurer has made, canst +thou believe that a partner so suitable as Mr. Rascal could be readily +found for her? Dost thou know what a fortune Mr. Rascal possesses? He +has paid six millions for estates here in the country, free from +all debts. I have had the title deeds in my own hands! He it was +who everywhere had the start of me; and, besides this, has in his +possession bills on Thomas John for about three and a half millions." + +"He must have stolen enormously!" + +"What talk is that again! He has wisely saved what would otherwise +have been lavished away." + +"A man that has worn livery--" + +"Stupid stuff! He has, however, an unblemished shadow." + +"Thou art right, but--" + +The man in the gray coat laughed and looked at me. The door opened and +Mina came forth. She supported herself on the arm of a chambermaid, +silent tears rolling down her lovely pale cheeks. She seated herself +on a stool which was placed for her under the lime trees, and her +father took a chair by her. He tenderly took her hand, and addressed +her with tender words, while she began violently to weep. + +"Thou art my good, dear child, and thou wilt be reasonable, wilt not +wish to distress thy old father, who seeks only thy happiness. I can +well conceive it, dear heart, that it has sadly shaken thee. Thou art +wonderfully escaped from thy misfortunes! Before we discovered the +scandalous imposition, thou hadst loved this unworthy one greatly; +see, Mina, I know it, and upbraid thee not for it. I myself, dear +child, also loved him so long as I looked upon him as a great +gentleman. But now thou seest how different all has turned out. What! +every poodle has his own shadow, and should my dear child have a +husband--no! thou thinkest, indeed, no more about him. Listen, Mina! +Now a man solicits thy hand, who does not shun the sunshine, an +honorable man, who truly is no prince, but who possesses ten millions, +ten times more than thou; a man who will make my dear child happy. +Answer me not, make no opposition, be my good, dutiful daughter, let +thy loving father care for thee, and dry thy tears. Promise me to give +thy hand to Mr. Rascal. Say, wilt thou promise me this?" + +She answered with a faint voice--"I have no will, no wish further upon +earth. Happen with me what my father will." + +At this moment Mr. Rascal was announced, and stepped impudently into +the circle. Mina lay in a swoon. My detested companion glanced angrily +at me, and whispered in hurried words--"And that can you endure? What +then flows instead of blood in your veins?" He scratched with a +hasty movement a slight wound in my hand, blood flowed, and he +continued--"Actually red blood!--So sign then!" I had the parchment +and the pen in my hand. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +My wish, dear Chamisso, is merely to submit myself to thy judgment, +not to endeavor to bias it. I have long passed the severest sentence +on myself, for I have nourished the tormenting worm in my heart. It +hovered during this solemn moment of my life incessantly before my +soul, and I could only lift my eyes to it with a doubting glance, with +humility and contrition. Dear friend, he who in levity only sets his +foot out of the right road, is unawares conducted into other paths, +which draw him downward and ever downward; he then sees in vain the +guiding stars glitter in heaven; there remains to him no choice; +he must descend unpausingly the declivity and become a voluntary +sacrifice to Nemesis. After the hasty false step which had laid the +curse upon me, I had, sinning through love, forced myself into the +fortunes of another being, and what remained for me but that, where +I had sowed destruction, where speedy salvation was demanded of me, I +should blindly rush forward to the rescue?--for the last hour struck! +Think not so meanly of me, my Adelbert, as to imagine that I should +have regarded any price that was demanded as too high, that I should +have begrudged anything that was mine even more than my gold. No, +Adelbert! but my soul was possessed with the most unconquerable +hatred of this mysterious sneaker along crooked paths. I might do him +injustice, but every degree of association with him revolted me. And +here stepped forth, as so frequently in my life, and as in general +so often in the history of the world, an event instead of an action. +Since then I have achieved reconciliation with myself. I have learned, +in the first place, to reverence necessity; and what is more than the +action performed, the event accomplished--her propriety. Then I have +learned to venerate this necessity as a wise Providence, which lives +through that great collective machine in which we officiate simply as +coöperating, impelling, and impelled wheels. What shall be, must be; +what should be, happened, and not without that Providence, which I +ultimately learned to reverence in my own fate and in the fate of +those on whom mine thus impinged. + +I know not whether I shall ascribe it to the excitement of my soul +under the impulse of such mighty sensations; or to the exhaustion +of my physical strength, which during the last days such unwonted +privations had enfeebled; or whether, finally, to the desolating +commotion which the presence of this gray fiend excited in my whole +nature--be that as it may, as I was on the point of signing I fell +into a deep swoon and lay a long time as in the arms of death. + +Stamping of feet and curses were the first sounds which struck my +ear as I returned to consciousness. I opened my eyes; it was dark; my +detested attendant was busied scolding me. "Is not that to behave like +an old woman? Up with you, man, and complete off-hand what you have +resolved on, if you have not taken another thought and had rather +blubber!" I raised myself with difficulty from the ground and gazed +in silence around. It was late in the evening; festive music resounded +from the brightly illuminated Forester's house; various groups of +people wandered through the garden walks. One couple came near in +conversation, and seated themselves on the bench which I had just +quitted. They talked of the union this morning solemnized between the +rich Mr. Rascal and the daughter of the house. So, then, it had taken +place! + +I tore the magic-cap of the already vanished unknown from my head, and +hastened in brooding silence toward the garden gate, plunging myself +into the deepest night of the thicket and striking along the path past +Count Peter's arbor. But invisibly my tormenting spirit accompanied +me, pursuing me with keenest reproaches. "These then are one's thanks +for the pains which one has taken to support Monsieur, who has weak +nerves, through the long precious day. And one shall act the fool in +the play. Good, Mr. Wronghead, fly you from me if you please, but we +are, nevertheless, inseparable. You have my gold and I your shadow, +and this will allow us no repose. Did anybody ever hear of a shadow +forsaking its master? Your's draws me after you till you take it back +again graciously, and I get rid of it. What you have hesitated to do +out of fresh pleasure, will you, only too late, be compelled to seek +through new weariness and disgust. One cannot escape one's fate." He +continued speaking in the same tone. I fled in vain; he relaxed not, +but, ever present, mockingly talked of gold and shadow. I could come +to no single thought of my own. + +I struck through empty streets toward my house. When I stood before +it, and gazed at it, I could scarcely recognize it. No light shone +through the dashed-in windows. The doors were closed; no throng of +servants was moving therein. There was a laugh near me. "Ha! ha! so +goes it! But you'll probably find your Bendel at home, for he was the +other day providently sent back so weary that he has most likely kept +his bed since." He laughed again. "He will have a story to tell! Well +then, for the present, good night! We meet again speedily!" + +I had rung the bell repeatedly; light appeared; Bendel demanded from +within who rung. When the good man recognized my voice, he could +scarcely restrain his joy. The door flew open and we stood weeping in +each other's arms. I found him greatly changed, weak and ill; but for +me--my hair had become quite gray! + +He conducted me through the desolated rooms to an inner apartment +which had been spared. He brought food and wine, and we seated +ourselves, and he again began to weep. He related to me that he the +other day had cudgeled the gray-clad man whom he had encountered with +my shadow, so long and so far that he had lost all trace of me and had +sunk to the earth in utter fatigue; that after this, as he could not +find me, he returned home, whither presently the mob, at Rascal's +instigation, came rushing in fury, dashed in the windows, and +gave full play to their lust of demolition. Thus did they to their +benefactor. The servants had fled various ways. The police had ordered +me, as a suspicious person, to quit the city, and had allowed only +four-and-twenty hours in which to evacuate their jurisdiction. To that +which I already knew of Rascal's affluence and marriage, he had yet +much to add. This scoundrel, from whom all had proceeded that had been +done against me, must, from the beginning, have been in possession of +my secret. It appeared that, attracted by gold, he had contrived to +thrust himself upon me, and at the very first had procured a key to +the gold cupboard, where he had laid the foundation of that fortune +whose augmentation he could now afford to despise. + +All this Bendel narrated to me with abundant tears, and then wept for +joy that he again beheld me, again had me; and that after he had long +doubted whither this misfortune might have led me, he saw me bear it +so calmly and collectedly; for such an aspect had despair now assumed +in me. My misery stood before me in its enormity and unchangeableness. +I had wept my last tear; not another cry could be extorted from my +heart; I presented to my fate my bare head with chill indifference. + +"Bendel," I said, "thou knowest my lot. Not without earlier blame has +my heavy punishment befallen me. Thou, innocent man, shalt no longer +bind thy destiny to mine. I do not desire it. I leave this very night; +saddle me a horse; I ride alone; thou remainest; it is my will. Here +still must remain some chests of gold; that retain thou; but I will +alone wander unsteadily through the world. But if ever a happier hour +should smile upon me, and fortune look on me with reconciled eyes, +then will I remember thee, for I have wept upon thy firmly faithful +bosom in heavy and agonizing hours." + +With a broken heart was this honest man compelled to obey this last +command of his master, at which his soul shrunk with terror. I was +deaf to his prayers, to his representations; blind to his tears. He +brought me out my steed. Once more I pressed the weeping man to my +bosom, sprang into the saddle, and under the shroud of night hastened +from the grave of my existence, regardless which way my horse +conducted me, since I had longer on earth no aim, no wish, no hope. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +A pedestrian soon joined me, who begged, after he had walked for some +time by the side of my horse, that, as we went the same way, he might +be allowed to lay a cloak which he carried, on the steed behind me. +I permitted it in silence. He thanked me with easy politeness for the +trifling service; praised my horse; and thence took occasion to extol +the happiness and power of the rich, and let himself, I know not how, +fall into a kind of monologue, in which he had me now merely for a +listener. + +He unfolded his views of life and of the world, and came very soon +upon metaphysics, whose task is to discover the Word that should solve +all riddles. He stated his thesis with great clearness and proceeded +onward to the proofs. + +Thou knowest, my friend, that I have clearly discovered, since I have +run through the schools of the philosophers, that I have by no means a +turn for philosophical speculations, and that I have totally +renounced for myself this field. Since then I have left many things +to themselves; abandoned the desire to know and to comprehend many +things; and as thou thyself advised me, have, trusting to my common +sense, followed as far as I was able the voice within me in my own +way. Now this rhetorician seemed to me to raise with great talent +a firmly constructed fabric, which was at once self-based and +self-supported, and stood as by an innate necessity. I missed in it +completely, however, what most of all I was desirous to find, and so +it became for me merely a work of art, whose elegant compactness and +completeness served to charm the eye only; nevertheless I listened +willingly to the eloquent man who drew my attention from my grief to +him; and I would have gladly yielded myself wholly up to him, had he +captivated my heart as much as my understanding. + +Meanwhile the time had passed, and unobserved the dawn had already +enlightened the heaven. I was horrified as I looked up suddenly, and +saw the glory of colors unfold itself in the east, which announced +the approach of the sun; while at this hour in which the shadows +ostentatiously display themselves in their greatest extent, there was +no protection from it; no refuge in the open country to be descried. +And I was not alone! I cast a glance at my companion, and was again +terror-stricken. It was no other than the man in the gray coat! + +He smiled at my alarm, and went on without allowing me a single word. +"Let, however, as is the way of the world, our mutual advantage for +awhile unite us. It is all in good time for separating. The road here +along the mountain-range, though you have not yet thought of it, is, +nevertheless, the only one into which you could logically have struck. +Down into the valley you cannot venture; and still less will you +desire to return again over the heights whence you came; and this +also happens to be my way. I see that you already turn pale before +the rising sun. I will, for the time we keep company, lend you your +shadow, and you, in exchange, tolerate me in your society. You have +no longer your Bendel with you, I will do you good service. You do not +like me, and I am sorry for it; but, notwithstanding, you can make use +of me. The devil is not so black as he is painted. Yesterday you +vexed me, it is true; I will not upbraid you with it today; and I have +already shortened the way hither for you; that you must admit. Only +just take your shadow again awhile on trial." + +The sun had ascended; people appeared on the road; I accepted, though +with internal repugnance, the proposal. Smiling he let my shadow glide +to the ground, which immediately took its place on that of the horse, +and trotted gaily by my side. I was in the strangest state of mind. +I rode past a group of country-people, who made way for a man of +consequence, reverently, and with bared heads. I rode on, and gazed +with greedy eyes and a palpitating; heart on this my quondam shadow +which I had now borrowed from a stranger, yes, from an enemy. + +The man went carelessly near me, and even whistled a tune--he on foot, +I on horseback; a dizziness seized me; the temptation was too great; +I suddenly turned the reins, clapped spurs to the horse, and struck at +full speed into a side-path. But I carried not off the shadow, which +at the turning glided from the horse and awaited its lawful possessor +on the high road. I was compelled with shame to turn back. The man in +the gray coat, when he had calmly finished his tune, laughed at me, +set the shadow right again for me and informed me that it would +hang fast and remain with me only when I was disposed to become the +rightful proprietor. "I hold you," continued he, "fast by the shadow, +and you cannot escape me. A rich man, like you, needs a shadow; +it cannot be otherwise, and you only are to blame that you did not +perceive that sooner." + +I continued my journey on the same road; the comforts and the splendor +of life again surrounded me; I could move about free and conveniently, +since I possessed a shadow, although only a borrowed one; and I +everywhere inspired the respect which riches command. But I carried +death in my heart. My strange companion, who gave himself out as +the unworthy servant of the richest man in the world, possessed +an extraordinary professional readiness, prompt and clever beyond +comparison, the very model of a valet for a rich man, but he stirred +not from my side, perpetually debating with me and ever manifesting +his confidence that, at length, were it only to be rid of him, I +would resolve to settle the affair of the shadow. He had become as +burdensome to me as he was hateful. I was even in fear of him. He had +made me dependent on him. He held me, after he had conducted me +back into the glory of the world from which I had fled. I was almost +obliged to tolerate his eloquence, and felt that he was in the right. +A rich man must have a shadow, and, as I desired to command the rank +which he had contrived again to make necessary to me, I saw but one +issue. By this, however, I stood fast: after having sacrificed my +love, after my life had been blighted, I would never sign away my soul +to this creature, for all the shadows in the world. I knew not how it +would end. + +We sat, one day, before a cave which the strangers who frequent +these mountains are accustomed to visit. One hears there the rush +of subterranean streams roaring up from immeasurable depths, and the +stone cast in seemed, in its resounding fall, to find no bottom. He +painted to me, as he often did, with a vivid power of imagination +and in the lustrous charms of the most brilliant colors, the most +carefully finished pictures of what I might achieve in the world +by virtue of my purse, if I had but once again my shadow in my +possession. With my elbows resting on my knees, I kept my face +concealed in my hands and listened to the false one, my heart divided +between his seduction and my own strong will. I could not longer stand +such an inward conflict, and the deciding strife began. + +"You appear, sir, to forget that I have indeed allowed you, upon +certain conditions, to remain in my company, but that I have reserved +my perfect freedom." + +"If you command it, I pack up." + +He was accustomed to this menace. I was silent. He began immediately +to roll up my shadow. I turned pale, but I let it proceed. There +followed a long pause; he first broke it. + +"You cannot bear me, sir. You hate me; I know it; yet why do you +hate me? Is it because you attacked me on the highway, and sought to +deprive me by violence of my bird's nest? Or is it because you have +endeavored, in a thievish manner, to cheat me out of my property, the +shadow, which was intrusted to you entirely on your honor? I, for my +part, do not hate you in spite of all this. I find it quite natural +that you should seek to avail yourself of all your advantages, +cunning, and power. Neither do I object to your very strict principles +and to your fancy to think like honesty itself. In fact, I think not +so strictly as you; I merely act as you think. Or have I at any time +pressed my finger on your throat in order to bring to me your most +precious soul, for which I have a fancy? Have I, on account of my +bartered purse, let a servant loose on you? Have I sought to swindle +you out of it?" I had nothing to oppose to this, and he proceeded: +"Very good, sir! very good! You cannot endure me; I know that very +well, and am by no means angry with you for it. We must part, that is +clear, and, in fact, you begin to be very wearisome to me. In order, +then, to rid you of my continued, shame-inspiring presence, I counsel +you once more to purchase this thing from me." I extended to him the +purse: "At that price?"--"No!" + +I sighed deeply, and added, "Be it so, then. I insist, sir, that we +part, and that you no longer obstruct my path in a world which, it +is to be hoped, has room enough in it for us both." He smiled, and +replied: "I go, sir; but first let me instruct you how you may ring +for me when you desire to see again your most devoted servant. You +have only to shake your purse, so that the eternal gold pieces therein +jingle, and the sound will instantly attract me. Every one thinks of +his own advantage in this world. You see that I at the same time +am thoughtful of yours, since I reveal to you a new power. Oh! this +purse!--had the moths already devoured your shadow, that would still +constitute a strong bond between us. Enough, you have me in my gold. +Should you have any commands, even when far off, for your servant, you +know that I can show myself very active in the service of my friends, +and the rich stand particularly well with me. You have seen it +yourself. Only your shadow, sir--allow me to tell you that--never +again, except on one sole condition." + +Forms of the past time swept before my soul. I demanded hastily--"Had +you a signature from Mr. John?" He smiled. "With so good a friend it +was by no means necessary." "Where is he? By God, I wish to know it!" +He hesitatingly plunged his hand into his pocket, and, dragged thence +by the hair, appeared Thomas John's ghastly disfigured form, and the +blue death-lips moved themselves with heavy words: "_Justo judicio Dei +judicatus sum; justo judicio Dei condemnatus sum_." I shuddered with +horror, and dashing the ringing purse into the abyss, I spoke to him +the last words--"I adjure thee, horrible one, in the name of God, take +thyself hence, and never again show thyself in my sight!" + +He arose gloomily, and instantly vanished behind the masses of rock +which bounded this wild, overgrown spot. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +I sat there without shadow and without money, but a heavy weight was +taken from my bosom. I was calm. Had I not also lost my love, or had I +in that loss felt myself free from blame, I believe that I should have +been happy; but I knew not what I should do. I examined my pockets; I +found yet several gold pieces there; I counted them and laughed. I +had my horses below at the inn; I was ashamed of returning thither; I +must, at least, wait till the sun was gone down; it stood yet high in +the heavens. I laid myself down in the shade of the nearest trees, and +calmly fell asleep. + +Lovely shapes blended themselves before me in charming dance into a +pleasing dream. Mina with a flower-wreath in her hair floated by me, +and smiled kindly upon me. The noble Bendel also was crowned with +flowers, and went past with a friendly greeting. I saw many besides, +and I believe thee too, Chamisso, in the distant throng. A bright +light appeared, but no one had a shadow, and, what was stranger, it +had by no means a bad effect. Flowers and songs, love and joy, under +groves of palm! I could neither hold fast nor interpret the moving, +lightly floating, lovable forms; but I knew that I dreamed such a +dream with joy, and was careful to avoid waking. I was already awake, +but still kept my eyes closed in order to retain the fading apparition +longer before my soul. + +I finally opened my eyes; the sun stood still high in the heavens, but +in the east; I had slept through the night. I took it for a sign that +I should not return to the inn. I gave up readily as lost what I yet +possessed there, and determined to strike on foot into a branch road, +which led along the wood-grown feet of the mountains, leaving it to +fate to fulfil what it had yet in store for me. I looked not behind +me, and thought not even of applying to Bendel, whom I left rich +behind me, and which I could readily have done. I considered the +new character which I should support in the world. My dress was very +modest. I had on an old black polonaise, which I had already worn in +Berlin, and which, I know not how, had first come again into my hands +for this journey. I had also a traveling cap on my head, a pair of old +boots on my feet. I arose, and cut me on the spot a knotty stick as a +memorial, and pursued my wandering. + +I met in the wood an old peasant who, friendly, greeted me, and with +whom I entered into conversation. I inquired, like an inquisitive +traveler, first the way, then about the country and its inhabitants, +the productions of the mountains, and many such things. He answered my +questions sensibly and loquaciously. We came to the bed of a mountain +torrent, which had spread its devastations over a wide tract of the +forest. I shuddered involuntarily at the sun-bright space, and allowed +the countryman to go first; but in the midst of this dangerous +spot, he stood still, and turned to relate to me the history of this +desolation. He saw immediately my defect, and paused in the midst of +his discourse. + +"But how does that happen--the gentleman has actually no shadow!" + +"Alas! alas!" replied I, sighing, "during a long and severe illness, +my hair, nails, and shadow fell off. See, father, at my age, my hair, +which is renewed again, is quite white, the nails very short, and the +shadow--that will not grow again." + +"Ay! ay!" responded the old man, shaking his head--"no shadow, that +is bad! That was a bad illness that the gentleman had." But he did +not continue his narrative, and at the next cross-way which presented +itself left me without saying a word. Bitter tears trembled anew upon +my cheeks, and my cheerfulness was gone. + +I pursued my way with a sorrowful heart, and sought no further the +society of men. I kept myself in the darkest wood, and was many a time +compelled, in order to pass over a space where the sun shone, to wait +for whole hours, lest some human eye should forbid me the transit. In +the evening I sought shelter in the villages. I went particularly in +quest of a mine in the mountains where I hoped to get work under the +earth; since, besides that my present situation made it imperative +that I should provide for my support, I had discovered that the most +active labor alone could protect me from my own annihilating thoughts. + +A few rainy days advanced me well on the way, but at the expense of +my boots, whose soles had been calculated for Count Peter, and not for +the pedestrian laborer. I was already barefoot and had to procure a +pair of new boots. The next morning I transacted this business with +much gravity in a village where a wake was being held, and where in +a booth old and new boots were sold. I selected and bargained long. I +was forced to deny myself a new pair, which I would gladly have had, +for the extravagant price frightened me. I therefore contented myself +with an old pair, which were yet good and strong, and which the +handsome, blond-haired boy who kept the stall, for present cash +payment handed to me with a friendly smile and wished me good luck on +my journey. I put them on at once, and left the place by the northern +gate. + +I was deeply absorbed in my thoughts and scarcely saw where I set +my feet, for I was pondering on the mine which I hoped to reach by +evening, and where I hardly knew how I should introduce myself. I had +not advanced two hundred strides when I observed that I had gone out +of the way. I therefore looked round me, and found myself in a wild +and ancient forest, where the axe appeared never to have been wielded. +I still pressed forward a few steps, and beheld myself in the midst +of desert rocks which were overgrown only with moss and lichens, and +between which lay fields of snow and ice. The air was intensely cold; +I looked round--the wood had vanished behind me. I took a few strides +more--and around me reigned the silence of death; the ice whereon I +stood boundlessly extended itself, and on it rested a thick, heavy +fog. The sun stood blood-red on the edge of the horizon. The cold was +insupportable. + +I knew not what had happened to me. The benumbing frost compelled me +to hasten my steps; I heard only the roar of distant waters; a step, +and I was on the icy margin of an ocean. Innumerable herds of seals +plunged rushing before me in the flood. I pursued this shore; I saw +naked rocks, land, birch and pine forests; I now advanced for a few +minutes right onward. It became stifling hot. I looked around--I +stood amongst beautifully cultivated rice-fields, and beneath +mulberry-trees. I seated myself in their shade; I looked at my watch; +I had left the market town only a quarter of an hour before. I fancied +that I dreamed; I bit my tongue to awake myself, but I was really +awake. I closed my eyes in order to collect my thoughts. I heard +before me singular accents pronounced through the nose. I looked up. +Two Chinese, unmistakable from their Asiatic physiognomy, if indeed +I would have given no credit to their costume, addressed me in their +speech with the accustomed salutations of their country. I arose and +stepped two paces backward; I saw them no more. The landscape +was totally changed--trees and forests instead of rice-fields. I +contemplated these trees and the plants which bloomed around me, which +I recognized as the growth of southeastern Asia. I wished to approach +one of these trees--one step, and again all was changed. I marched +now like a recruit who is drilled, and strode slowly and with measured +steps. Wonderfully diversified lands, rivers, meadows, mountain +chains, steppes, deserts of sand, unrolled themselves before my +astonished eyes. There was no doubt of it--I had seven-league boots on +my feet. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +I fell in speechless adoration on my knees and shed tears of +thankfulness, for suddenly my future stood clear before my soul. For +early offense thrust out from the society of men, I was cast, for +compensation, upon Nature, which I ever loved; the earth was given me +as a rich garden, study for the object and strength of my life, and +science for its goal. It was no resolution which I adopted. I only +have since, with severe, unremitted diligence, striven faithfully +to represent what then stood clear and perfect before my eye, and my +satisfaction has depended on the agreement of the representation with +the original. + +I roused myself in order, without delay, and with a hasty survey, to +take possession of the field where I should hereafter reap. I stood on +the heights of Tibet, and the sun, which had risen upon me only a few +hours before, now already stooped to the evening sky. I wandered over +Asia from east to west, overtaking him in his course, and entered +Africa. I gazed about me with eager curiosity, as I repeatedly +traversed it in all directions. As I surveyed the ancient pyramids +and temples in passing through Egypt, I descried in the desert not far +from hundred-gated Thebes, the caves where the Christian anchorites +once dwelt. It was suddenly firm and clear in me--here is thy home! +I selected one of the most concealed which was at the same time +spacious, convenient, and inaccessible to the jackals, for my future +abode, and again went forward. + +I passed, at the pillars of Hercules, over to Europe, and when I +reviewed the southern and northern provinces, I crossed from northern +Asia over the polar glaciers to Greenland and America, traversed both +parts of that continent, and the winter which already reigned in the +south drove me speedily back northward from Cape Horn. + +I tarried awhile till it was day in eastern Asia, and, after some +repose, continued my wandering. I traced through both Americas the +mountain chain which constitutes the highest known acclivities on our +globe. I stalked slowly and cautiously from summit to summit, now +over flaming volcanoes, now snow-crowned peaks, often breathing +with difficulty, when, reaching Mount Saint Elias, I sprang across +Behring's Straits to Asia. I followed the western shores in their +manifold windings, and examined with especial care to ascertain which +of the islands were accessible to me. From the peninsula of Malacca my +boots carried me to Sumatra, Java, Bali and Lamboc. I attempted often +with danger, and always in vain, a northwest passage over the lesser +islet and rocks with which this sea is studded, to Borneo and the +other islands of this Archipelago. I was compelled to abandon the +hope. At length I seated myself on the extreme portion of Lamboc, and +gazing toward the south and east, wept, as at the fast closed bars +of my prison, that I had so soon discovered my limits. New Holland so +extraordinary and so essentially necessary to the comprehension of the +earth and its sun-woven garment, the vegetable and the animal world, +with the South Sea and its Zoophyte islands, was interdicted to me, +and thus, at the very outset, all that I should gather and build up +was destined to remain a mere fragment! Oh, my Adelbert, what, after +all, are the endeavors of men! + +Often did I in the severest winter of the southern hemisphere, +endeavor, passing the polar glaciers westward, to leave behind me +those two hundred strides out from Cape Horn, which sundered me +probably from Van Diemen's Land and New Holland, regardless of my +return or whether this dismal region should close upon me as my +coffin-lid--making desperate leaps from ice-drift to ice-drift, and +bidding defiance to the cold and the sea. In vain! I never reached New +Holland, but, every time, I came back to Lamboc, seated myself on its +farthest peak, and wept again, with my face turned toward the south +and east, as at the fast closed bars of my prison. + +I tore myself at length from this spot, and returned with a sorrowful +heart into inner Asia. I traversed that farther, pursuing the morning +dawn westward, and came, yet in the night, to my proposed home in the +Thebais, which I had touched upon in the afternoon of the day before. + +As soon as I was somewhat rested, and when it was day again in Europe, +I made it my first care to procure everything which I wanted. First of +all, stop-shoes; for I had experienced how inconvenient it was when +I wished to examine near objects, not to be able to slacken my stride +except by pulling off my boots. A pair of slippers drawn over them had +completely the effect which I anticipated, and later I always carried +two pairs, since I sometimes threw them from my feet, without having +time to pick them up again, when lions, men, or hyenas startled +me from my botanizing. My very excellent watch was, for the short +duration of my passage, a capital chronometer. Besides this I needed a +sextant, some scientific instruments, and books. + +To procure all this, I made several anxious journeys to London and +Paris, which, auspiciously for me, a mist just then overshadowed. +As the remains of my enchanted gold was now exhausted, I easily +accomplished the payment by gathering African ivory, in which, +however, I was obliged to select only the smallest tusks, as not too +heavy for me. I was soon furnished and equipped with all these, and +commenced immediately, as private philosopher, my new course of life. + +I roamed about the earth, now determining the altitudes of mountains; +now the temperature of its springs and the air; now contemplating the +animal, now inquiring into the vegetable tribes. I hastened from the +equator to the pole, from one world to the other, comparing facts with +facts. The eggs of the African ostrich or the northern sea-fowl, and +fruits, especially of the tropical palms and bananas, were even +my ordinary food. In lieu of happiness I had tobacco, and of human +society and the ties of love, one faithful poodle, which guarded my +cave in the Thebais, and, when I returned home with fresh treasures, +sprang joyfully toward me and gave me still a human feeling that I was +not alone on the earth. An adventure was yet destined to conduct me +back amongst mankind. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +As I once scotched my boots on the shores of the north and gathered +lichens and sea-weed, an ice-bear came unawares upon me round the +corner of a rock. Flinging off my slippers, I would step over to an +opposite island, to which a naked crag which protruded midway from +the waves offered me a passage. I stepped with one foot firmly on +the rock, and plunged over on the other side into the sea, one of my +slippers having unobserved remained fast on the foot. + +The excessive cold seized on me; I with difficulty rescued my life +from this danger; and the moment I reached land, I ran with the utmost +speed to the Lybyan desert in order to dry myself in the sun, but, +as I was here exposed, it burned me so furiously on the head that I +staggered back again very ill toward the north. I sought to relieve +myself by rapid motion, and ran with swift, uncertain steps, from west +to east, from east to west. I found myself now in the day, now in the +night; now in summer, now in the winter's cold. + +I know not how long I thus reeled about on the earth. A burning fever +glowed in my veins; with deepest distress I felt my senses forsaking +me. As mischief would have it, in my incautious career, I now trod on +some one's foot; I must have hurt him; I received a heavy blow, and +fell to the ground. + +When I again returned to consciousness, I lay comfortably in a good +bed, which stood amongst many other beds in a handsome hall. Some one +sat at my head; people went through the hall from one bed to another. +They came to mine, and spoke together about me. They styled me _Number +Twelve_; and on the wall at my feet stood--yes, certainly it was no +delusion, I could distinctly read on a black tablet of marble in great +golden letters, quite correctly written, my name-- + + PETER SCHLEMIHL. + +On the tablet beneath my name were two other rows of letters, but I +was too weak to put them together. I again closed my eyes. + +I heard something of which the subject was Peter Schlemihl read aloud, +and articulately, but I could not collect the sense. I saw a friendly +man, and a very lovely woman in black dress appear at my bedside. The +forms were not strange to me, and yet I could not recognize them. + +Some time went on, and I recovered my strength. I was called _Number +Twelve_; and _Number Twelve_, on account of his long beard, passed for +a Jew, on which account, however, he was not at all the less carefully +treated. That he had no shadow appeared to have been unobserved. My +boots, as I was assured, were, with all that I had brought hither, in +good keeping, in order to be restored to me on my recovery. The place +in which I lay was called the SCHLEMIHLIUM. What was daily read aloud +concerning Peter Schlemihl was an exhortation to pray for him as the +Founder and Benefactor of this institution. The friendly man whom I +had seen by my bed was Bendel; the lovely woman was Mina. + +I recovered unrecognized in the Schlemihlium; and learned yet further +that I was in Bendel's native city, where, with the remains of my +otherwise unblessed gold, he had in my name founded this +Hospital, where the unhappy blessed me, and himself maintained its +superintendence. Mina was a widow. An unhappy criminal process had +cost Mr. Rascal his life, and her the greater part of her property. +Her parents were no more. She lived here as a pious widow, and +practised works of mercy. + +Once she conversed with Mr. Bendel at the bedside of _Number Twelve_. +"Why, noble lady, will you so often expose yourself to the bad +atmosphere which prevails here? Does fate then deal so hardly with you +that you wish to die?" + +"No, Mr. Bendel, since I have dreamed out my long dream, and have +awoke in myself, all is well with me; since then I crave not, and fear +not, death. Since then, I reflect calmly on the past and the future. +Is it not also with a still inward happiness that you now, in so +devout a manner, serve your master and friend?" + +"Thank God, yes, noble lady. But we have seen wonderful things; we +have unwarily drunk much good, and bitter woes, out of the full cup. +Now it is empty, and we may believe that the whole has been only a +trial, and, armed with wise discernment, awaits the real beginning. +The real beginning is of another fashion; and we wish not back the +first jugglery, and are on the whole glad, such as it was, to have +lived through it. I feel also within me a confidence that it must now +be better than formerly with our old friend." + +"Within me too," replied the lovely widow, and then passed on. + +The conversation left a deep impression upon me, but I was undecided +in myself whether I should make myself known or depart hence +unrecognized. I took my resolve. I requested paper and pencil, and +wrote these words--"It is indeed better with your old friend now than +formerly, and if he does penance it is the penance of reconciliation." + +Hereupon I desired to dress myself, as I found myself stronger. The +key of the small wardrobe which stood near my bed was brought, and I +found therein all that belonged to me. I put on my clothes, suspended +my botanical case, in which I rejoiced still to find my northern +lichens, round my black polonaise, drew on my boots, laid the written +paper on my bed, and, as the door opened, I was already far on the way +to the Thebais. + +As I took the way along the Syrian coast, on which I for the last time +had wandered from home, I perceived my poor Figaro coming toward me. +This excellent poodle, which had long expected his master at home, +seemed to desire to trace him out. I stood still and called to him. +He sprang barking toward me, with a thousand moving assurances of his +inmost and most extravagant joy. I took him up under my arm, for in +truth he could not follow me, and brought him with me home again. + +I found all in its old order, and returned gradually, as my strength +was recruited, to my former employment and mode of life, except that +I kept myself for a whole year out of the, to me, wholly insupportable +polar cold. And thus, my dear Chamisso, I live to this day. My boots +are no worse for the wear, as that very learned work of the celebrated +Tieckius, _De Rebus Gestis Pollicilli_, at first led me to fear. Their +force remains unimpaired, my strength only decays; yet I have the +comfort to have exerted it in a continuous and not fruitless pursuit +of one object. I have, so far as my boots could carry me, become more +fundamentally acquainted than any man before me with the earth, +its shape, its elevations, its temperatures, the changes of its +atmosphere, the exhibitions of its magnetic power, and the life upon +it, especially in the vegetable world. The facts I have recorded with +the greatest possible exactness and in perspicuous order in several +works, and stated my deductions and views briefly in several +treatises. I have settled the geography of the interior of Africa, +and of the northern polar regions; of the interior of Asia, and its +eastern shores. My _Historia Stirpium Plantarum Utriusque Orbis_ +stands as a grand fragment of the _Flora Universalis Terrae_, and as +a branch of my _Systema Naturae_. I believe that I have therein not +merely augmented, at a moderate calculation, the amount of known +species, more than one-third, but have done something for the _Natural +System_, and for the _Geography of Plants_. I shall labor diligently +at my _Fauna_. I shall take care that, before my death, my works shall +be deposited in the Berlin University. + +And thee, my dear Chamisso, have I selected as the preserver of my +singular history, which, perhaps, when I have vanished from the earth, +may afford valuable instruction to many of its inhabitants. But thou, +my friend, if thou wilt live among men, learn before all things to +reverence the shadow, and then the gold. Wishest thou to live only for +thyself and for thy better self--oh, then!--thou needest no counsel. + + + + +ERNST THEODOR AMADEUS HOFFMANN + + * * * * * + +THE GOLDEN POT[44] (1814) + +TRANSLATED BY FREDERIC H. HEDGE + +FIRST VIGIL + + The mishaps of the student Anselmus. Conrector Paulmann's sanitary + canaster and the gold-green snakes. + + +On Ascension-day, at three o'clock in the afternoon, a young man in +Dresden came running through the Black Gate, falling right into a +basket of apples and cakes, which an old and very ugly woman was +there exposing to sale. All that escaped being smashed to pieces was +scattered away, and the street-urchins joyfully divided the booty +which this quick gentleman had thrown in the way. At the murder-shriek +which the crone set up, her gossips, leaving their cake and +brandy-tables, encircled the young man, and with plebeian violence +stormfully scolded him, so that, for shame and vexation, he uttered +no word, but merely held out his small and by no means particularly +well-filled purse, which the crone eagerly clutched and stuck into her +pocket. The firm ring now opened; but as the young man started off, +the crone called after him: "Ay, run, run thy ways, thou Devil's bird! +To the crystal run--to the crystal!" The squealing, creaking voice +of the woman had something unearthly in it, so that the promenaders +paused in amazement, and the laugh, which at first had been universal, +instantly died away. The student Anselmus, for the young man was no +other, felt himself, though he did not in the least understand these +singular phrases, nevertheless seized with a certain involuntary +horror; and he quickened his steps still more, to escape the curious +looks of the multitude, which were all turned toward him. As he +worked his way through the crowd of well-dressed people, he heard them +murmuring on all sides: "Poor young fellow! Ha! what a cursed bedlam +it is!" The mysterious words of the crone had, oddly enough, given +this ludicrous adventure a sort of tragic turn; and the youth, before +unobserved, was now looked after with a certain sympathy. The ladies, +for his fine shape and handsome face, which the glow of inward anger +was rendering still more expressive, forgave him this awkward step, as +well as the dress he wore, though it was utterly at variance with all +mode. His pike-gray frock was shaped as if the tailor had known the +modern form only by hearsay; and his well-kept black satin lower +habiliments gave the whole a certain pedagogic air, to which the gait +and gesture of the wearer did not at all correspond. + +The student had almost reached the end of the alley which leads out to +the Linke Bath; but his breath could stand such a rate no longer. From +running, he took to walking; but scarcely did he yet dare to lift an +eye from the ground; for he still saw apples and cakes dancing round +him, and every kind look from this or that fair damsel was to him but +the reflex of the mocking laughter at the Black Gate. In this mood, he +had got to the entrance of the bath; one group of holiday people after +the other were moving in. Music of wind-instruments resounded from the +place, and the din of merry guests was growing louder and louder. The +poor student Anselmus was almost on the point of weeping; for he too +had expected, Ascension-day having always been a family-festival with +him, to participate in the felicities of the Linkean paradise; nay, he +had purposed even to go the length of a half "portion" of coffee with +rum, and a whole bottle of double beer, and, that he might carouse +at his ease, had put more money in his purse than was properly +permissible and feasible. And now, by this fatal step into the +apple-basket, all that he had about him had been swept away. Of +coffee, of double beer, of music, of looking at the bright damsels--in +a word, of all his fancied enjoyments, there was now nothing more to +be said. He glided slowly past, and at last turned down the Elbe road, +which at that time happened to be quite solitary. + +[Illustration: Permission Berlin Photo Co., New York. HENSEL +ERNST THEODOR AMADEUS HOFFMANN] + +Beneath an elder-tree, which had grown out through the wall, he found +a kind green resting-place; here he sat down, and filled a pipe from +the _Sanitätsknaster_ or Health-tobacco, of which his friend the +Conrector Paulmann had lately made him a present. Close before him +rolled and chafed the gold-dyed waves of the fair Elbe-stream; behind +him rose lordly Dresden, stretching, bold and proud, its light towers +into the airy sky; which again, farther off, bent itself down toward +flowery meads and fresh springing woods; and in the dim distance, a +range of azure peaks gave notice of remote Bohemia. But, heedless of +this, the student Anselmus, looking gloomily before him, blew forth +his smoky clouds into the air. His chagrin at length became audible, +and he said: "Of a truth, I am born to losses and crosses for my life +long! That in boyhood I never could become the King on Twelfthnight, +that at Odds or Evens I could never once guess the right way, that +my bread and butter always fell on the buttered side--of all these +sorrows I will not speak; but is it not a frightful destiny, that now, +when, in spite of Satan, I have become a student, I must still be a +jolthead as before? Do I ever put a new coat on, without the first day +smearing it with tallow, or on some ill-fastened nail or other tearing +a cursed hole in it? Do I ever bow to any Councilor or any lady, +without pitching the hat out of my hands, or even slipping on the +pavement, and shamefully going heels-over-head? Had I not, every +market-day, while in Halle, a regular sum of from three to four +groschen to pay for broken pottery, the Devil putting it into my head +to walk straight forward, like a leming-rat? Have I ever once got to +my college, or any place I was appointed to, at the right time? What +availed it that I set out half an hour before, and planted myself at +the door, with the knocker in my hand? Just as the clock is going to +strike, souse! some Devil pours a wash-basin down on me, or I bolt +against some fellow coming out, and get myself engaged in endless +quarrels till the time is clean gone. + +"Ah! well-a-day! whither are ye fled, ye blissful dreams of coming +fortune, when I proudly thought that here I might even reach the +height of Privy Secretary? And has not my evil star estranged from me +my best patrons? I learn, for instance, that the Councilor, to whom I +have a letter, cannot suffer cropped hair; with immensity of trouble, +the barber fastens me a little cue to my hindhead; but at the first +bow his unblessed knot gives way, and a little shock-dog, running +snuffling about me, frisks off to the Privy Councilor with the cue in +his mouth. I spring after it in terror, and stumble against the +table, where he has been working while at breakfast; and cups, plates, +ink-glass, sand-box, rush jingling to the floor, and a flood of +chocolate and ink overflows the "Relation" he has just been writing. +'Is the Devil in the man?' bellows the furious Privy Councilor, and +shoves me out of the room. + +"What avails it that Corrector Paulmann gave me hopes of a writership: +will my malignant fate allow it, which everywhere pursues me? +Today even! Do but think of it! I was purposing to hold my good old +Ascension-day with right cheerfulness of soul; I would stretch a point +for once; I might have gone, as well as any other guest, into Linke's +Bath, and called out proudly: 'Marqueur! a bottle of double beer; best +sort, if you please!' I might have sat till far in the evening, and, +moreover, close by this or that fine party of well-dressed ladies. I +know it, I feel it! heart would have come into me and I should have +been quite another man; nay, I might have carried it so far that when +one or other of them asked, `What o'clock may it be?' or 'What is +it they are playing?' I should have started up with light grace, and +without overturning my glass or stumbling over the bench, but in a +curved posture, moving one step and a half forward, I should have +answered: 'Give me leave, Mademoiselle! it is the overture of the +_Donauweibchen_;' or, 'It is just going to strike six.' Could any +mortal in the world have taken it ill of me? No! I say; the girls +would have looked over, smiling so roguishly, as they always do when +I pluck up heart to show them that I too understand the light tone of +society, and know how ladies should be spoken to. But here--the Devil +leads me into that cursed apple-basket, and now must I sit moping +in solitude, with nothing but a poor pipe of----" Here the student +Anselmus was interrupted in his soliloquy by a strange rustling and +whisking, which rose close by him in the grass, but soon glided up +into the twigs and leaves of the elder-tree that stretched out over +his head. It was as if the evening wind were shaking the leaves; as if +little birds were twittering among the branches, moving their little +wings in capricious flutter to and fro. Then he heard a whispering and +lisping; and it seemed as if the blossoms were sounding like +little crystal bells. Anselmus listened and listened. Ere long, the +whispering, and lisping, and tinkling, he himself knew not how, grew +to faint and half-scattered words: + +"'Twixt this way, 'twixt that; 'twixt branches, 'twixt blossoms, come +shoot, come twist and twirl we! Sisterkin, sisterkin! up to the shine; +up, down, through and through, quick! Sun-rays yellow; evening-wind +whispering; dew-drops pattering; blossoms all singing: sing we with +branches and blossoms! Stars soon glitter; must down: 'twixt this way, +'twixt that, come shoot, come twist, come twirl we, sisterkin!" + +And so it went along, in confused and confusing speech. The student +Anselmus thought: "Well, it is but the evening-wind, which tonight +truly is whispering distinctly enough." But at that moment there +sounded over his head, as it were, a triple harmony of clear crystal +bells: he looked up, and perceived three little snakes, glittering +with green and gold, twisted round the branches, and stretching out +their heads to the evening sun. Then, again, began a whispering and +twittering in the same words as before, and the little snakes went +gliding and caressing up and down through the twigs; and while they +moved so rapidly, it was as if the elder-bush were scattering a +thousand glittering emeralds through the dark leaves. + +"It is the evening sun which sports so in the elder-bush," thought the +student Anselmus; but the bells sounded again, and Anselmus observed +that one Snake held out its little head to him. Through all his limbs +there went a shock like electricity; he quivered in his inmost heart; +he kept gazing up, and a pair of glorious dark-blue eyes were looking +at him with unspeakable longing; and an unknown feeling of highest +blessedness and deepest sorrow was like to rend his heart asunder. +And as he looked, and still looked, full of warm desire, into these +charming eyes, the crystal bells sounded louder in harmonious accord, +and the glittering emeralds fell down and encircled him, flickering +round him in thousand sparkles, and sporting in resplendent threads +of gold. The Elder-bush moved and spoke: "Thou layest in my shadow; my +perfume flowed round thee, but thou understoodst me not. The perfume +is my speech, when Love kindles it." The Evening-Wind came gliding +past, and said: "I played round thy temples, but thou understoodst me +not. Breath is my speech, when Love kindles it." The sunbeams broke +through the clouds, and the sheen of it burnt, as in words: "I +overflowed thee with glowing gold, but thou understoodst me not. Glow +is my speech, when Love kindles it." + +And, still deeper and deeper sunk in the view of these glorious eyes, +his longing grew keener, his desire more warm. And all rose and moved +around him, as if awakening to joyous life. Flowers and blossoms shed +their odors round him; and their odor was like the lordly singing of +a thousand softest voices; and what they sung was borne, like an +echo, on the golden evening clouds, as they flitted away, into far-off +lands. But as the last sunbeam abruptly sank behind the hills, and +the twilight threw its veil over the scene, there came a hoarse deep +voice, as from a great distance: + +"Hey! hey! what chattering and jingling is that up there? Hey! hey! +who catches me the ray behind the hills? Sunned enough, sung enough. +Hey! hey! through bush and grass, through grass and stream! Hey! hey! +Come dow-w-n, dow-w-w-n!" + +So faded the voice away, as in murmurs of a distant thunder; but the +crystal bells broke off in sharp discords. All became mute; and +the student Anselmus observed how the three snakes, glittering and +sparkling, glided through the grass toward the river; rustling and +hustling, they rushed into the Elbe; and over the waves where they +vanished, there crackled up a green flame, which, gleaming forward +obliquely, vanished in the direction of the city. + + + + +SECOND VIGIL + + How the student Anselmus was looked upon as drunk and mad. The + crossing of the Elbe. Bandmaster Graun's Bravura. Conradi's + Stomachic Liqueur, and the bronzed Apple-Woman. + + +"The gentleman seems not to be in his right wits!" said a respectable +burgher's wife, who, returning from a walk with her family, had paused +here, and, with crossed arms, was looking at the mad pranks of the +student Anselmus. Anselmus had clasped the trunk of the elder-tree, +and was calling incessantly up to the branches and leaves: "O glitter +and shine once more, ye dear gold snakes; let me hear your little +bell-voices once more! Look on me once more, ye kind eyes; O once, or +I must die in pain and ardent longing!" And with this, he was sighing +and sobbing from the bottom of his heart most pitifully, and, in his +eagerness and impatience, shaking the elder-tree to and fro; which, +however, instead of any reply, rustled quite gloomily and inaudibly +with its leaves, and so rather seemed, as it were, to make sport of +the student Anselmus and his sorrows. + +"The gentleman seemingly is not in his right wits!" said the burgher's +wife; and Anselmus felt as if you had shaken him out of a deep dream, +or poured ice-cold water on him, that he might awaken without loss +of time. He now first saw clearly where he was and recollected what a +strange apparition had teased him, nay, so beguiled his senses as to +make him break forth into loud talk with himself. In astonishment, +he gazed at the woman; and at last, snatching up his hat, which had +fallen to the ground in his transport, was for making off in all +speed. The burgher himself had come forward in the meanwhile; and, +setting down the child from his arm on the grass, had been leaning on +his staff, and with amazement listening and looking at the student. +He now picked up the pipe and tobacco-pouch which the student had let +fall, and, holding them out to him, said: "Don't take on so dreadfully +in the dark, my worthy sir, or alarm people, when nothing is the +matter, after all, but having taken a sip too much; go home, like a +pretty man, and take a nap of sleep on it." + +The student Anselmus felt exceedingly ashamed; he uttered nothing but +a most lamentable Ah! + +"Pooh! Pooh!" said the burgher, "never mind it a jot; such a thing +will happen to the best; on good old Ascension-day a man may readily +enough forget himself in his joy, and gulp down a thought too much. +A clergyman himself is no worse for it: I presume, my worthy sir, you +are a _Candidatus_.--But, with your leave, sir, I shall fill my pipe +with your tobacco; mine went out a little while ago." + +This last sentence the burgher uttered while the student Anselmus was +about putting up his pipe and pouch; and now the burgher slowly and +deliberately cleaned his pipe, and began as slowly to fill it. Several +burgher girls had come up; they were speaking secretly with the woman +and one another, and tittering as they looked at Anselmus. The student +felt as if he were standing on prickly thorns and burning needles. No +sooner had he recovered his pipe and tobacco-pouch, than he darted off +at the height of his speed. + +All the strange things he had seen were clean gone from his memory; he +simply recollected having babbled all manner of foolish stuff beneath +the elder-tree. This was the more shocking to him, as he entertained +from of old an inward horror against all soliloquists. It is Satan +that chatters out of them, said his Rector; and Anselmus shared +honestly his belief. To be regarded as a _Candidatus Theologiae_, +overtaken with drink on Ascension-day! The thought was intolerable. + +He was just about turning up the Poplar Alley, by the Kosel Garden, +when a voice behind him called out: "Herr Anselmus! Herr Anselmus! +for the love of Heaven, whither are you running in such haste?" The +student paused, as if rooted to the ground; for he was convinced that +now some new mischance would befall him. The voice rose again: "Herr +Anselmus, come back, then; we are waiting for you here at the water!" +And now the student perceived that it was his friend Conrector +Paulmann's voice; he went back to the Elbe, and found the Conrector, +with his two daughters, as well as Registrator Heerbrand, all on the +point of stepping into their gondola. Conrector Paulmann invited the +student to go with them across the Elbe, and then to pass the evening +at his house in the Pirna suburb. The student Anselmus very gladly +accepted this proposal, thinking thereby to escape the malignant +destiny which had ruled over him all day. + +Now, as they were crossing the river, it chanced that, on the farther +bank, near the Anton Garden, fireworks were just going off. Sputtering +and hissing, the rockets went aloft, and their blazing stars flew +to pieces in the air, scattering a thousand vague shoots and flashes +round them. The student Anselmus was sitting by the steersman, sunk in +deep thought; but when he noticed in the water the reflection of +these darting and wavering sparks and flames, he felt as if it was the +little golden snakes that were sporting in the flood. All the strange +things he had seen at the elder-tree again started forth into his +heart and thoughts; and again that unspeakable longing, that glowing +desire, laid hold of him here, which had before agitated his bosom in +painful spasms of rapture. + +"Ah! is it you again, my little golden snakes? Sing now, O sing! In +your song let the kind, dear, dark-blue eyes again appear to me.--Ah? +are ye under the waves, then?" + +So cried the student Anselmus, and at the same time made a violent +movement, as if he were for plunging from the gondola into the river. + +"Is the Devil in you, sir?" exclaimed the steersman, and clutched +him by the coat-tail. The girls, who were sitting by him, shrieked +in terror, and fled to the other side of the gondola. Registrator +Heerbrand whispered something in Conrector Paulmann's ear, to +which the latter answered, but in so low a tone that Anselmus could +distinguish nothing but the words: "Such attacks--never noticed them +before?" Directly after this, Conrector Paulmann also rose, and then +sat down, with a certain earnest, grave, official mien, beside the +student Anselmus, taking his hand, and saying: "How are you, Herr +Anselmus?" The student Anselmus was like to lose his wits, for in his +mind there was a mad distraction, which he strove in vain to soothe. +He now saw plainly that what he had taken for the gleaming of the +golden snakes was nothing but the reflection of the fireworks in +Anton's Garden: but a feeling unexperienced till now, he himself knew +not whether it was rapture or pain, cramped his breast together; and +when the steersman struck through the water with his helm, so that the +waves, curling as in anger, gurgled and chafed, he heard in their din +a soft whispering: "Anselmus! Anselmus! seest thou not how we still +skim along before thee? Sisterkin looks at thee again; believe, +believe, believe in us!" And he thought he saw in the reflected light +three green-glowing streaks; but then, when he gazed, full of fond +sadness, into the water, to see whether these gentle eyes would not +again look up to him, he perceived too well that the shine proceeded +only from the windows in the neighboring houses. He was sitting mute +in his place, and inwardly battling with himself, when Conrector +Paulman repeated, with still greater emphasis: "How are you, Herr +Anselmus?" + +With the most rueful tone, Anselmus replied: "Ah! Herr Conrector, if +you knew what strange things I have been dreaming, quite awake, +with open eyes, just now, under an elder-tree at the wall of Linke's +garden, you would not take it amiss of me that I am a little absent, +or so." + +"Ey, ey, Herr Anselmus!" interrupted Conrector Paulmann, "I have +always taken you for a solid young man; but to dream, to dream with +your eyes wide open, and then, all at once, to start up for leaping +into the water! This, begging your pardon, is what only fools or +madmen could do." + +The student Anselmus was deeply affected at his friend's hard saying; +then Veronica, Paulmann's eldest daughter, a most pretty blooming +girl of sixteen, addressed her father: "But, dear father, something +singular must have befallen Herr Anselmus; and perhaps he only thinks +he was awake, while he may really have been asleep, and so all +manner of wild stuff has come into his head and is still lying in his +thoughts." + +"And, dearest Mademoiselle! Worthy Conrector!" interrupted Registrator +Heerbrand, "may one not, even when awake, sometimes sink into a sort +of dreaming state? I myself have had such fits. One afternoon, for +instance, during coffee, in a sort of brown study like this, in the +very moment of corporeal and spiritual digestion, the place where a +lost document was lying occurred to me, as if by inspiration; and last +night, no further gone, there came glorious large Latin WRIT tripping +out before my open eyes, in the very same way." + +"Ah! most honored Registrator," answered Conrector Paulmann, "you +have always had a tendency to the _Poetica_; and thus one falls into +fantasies and romantic humors." + +The student Anselmus, however, was particularly gratified that in this +most troublous situation, while in danger of being considered drunk or +crazy, any one should take his part; and though it was already fairly +dark, he thought he noticed, for the first time, that Veronica had +really very fine dark-blue eyes, and this too without remembering the +strange pair which he had looked at in the elder-bush. On the whole, +the adventure under the elder-bush had once more entirely vanished +from the thoughts of the student Anselmus; he felt himself at ease and +light of heart; nay, in the capriciousness of joy, he carried it so +far that he offered a helping hand to his fair advocate, Veronica, as +she was stepping from the gondola; and without more ado, as she put +her arm in his, escorted her home with so much dexterity and good luck +that he missed his footing only once, and this being the only wet spot +in the whole road, spattered Veronica's white gown only a very little +by the incident. + +Conrector Paulmann failed not to observe this happy change in +the student Anselmus; he resumed his liking for him, and begged +forgiveness for the hard words which he had let fall before. "Yes," +added he, "we have many examples to show that certain phantasms may +rise before a man and pester and plague him not a little; but this is +bodily disease, and leeches are good for it, if applied to the right +part, as a certain learned physician, now deceased, has directed." The +student Anselmus knew not whether he had been drunk, crazy, or sick; +but at all events the leeches seemed entirely superfluous, as these +supposed phantasms had utterly vanished, and the student himself was +growing happier and happier, the more he prospered in serving the +pretty Veronica with all sorts of dainty attentions. + +As usual, after the frugal meal, came music; the student Anselmus had +to take his seat before the harpsichord, and Veronica accompanied +his playing with her pure clear voice. "Dear Mademoiselle," said +Registrator Heerbrand, "you have a voice like a crystal bell!" + +"That she has not!" ejaculated the student Anselmus, he scarcely +knew how. "Crystal bells in elder-trees sound strangely, strangely!" +continued the student Anselmus, murmuring half aloud. + +Veronica laid her hand on his shoulder, and asked: "What are you +saying now, Herr Anselmus?" + +Instantly Anselmus recovered his cheerfulness, and began playing. +Conrector Paulmann gave a grim look at him; but Registrator Heerbrand +laid a music-leaf on the frame, and sang with ravishing grace one +of Bandmaster Graun's bravura airs. The student Anselmus accompanied +this, and much more; and a fantasy duet, which Veronica and he now +fingered, and Conrector Paulmann had himself composed, again brought +all into the gayest humor. + +It was now quite late, and Registrator Heerbrand was taking up his hat +and stick, when Conrector Paulmann went up to him with a mysterious +air, and said: "Hem!--Would not you, honored Registrator, mention to +the good Herr Anselmus himself--Hem! what we were speaking of before?" + +"With all the pleasure in nature," said Registrator Heerbrand; and +after all were seated in a circle, he began, without farther preamble, +as follows: + +"In this city is an old, strange, remarkable man; people say he +follows all manner of secret sciences; but as there are no such +sciences, I rather take him for an antiquary, and, along with +this, for an experimental chemist. I mean no other than our Privy +Archivarius Lindhorst. He lives, as you know, by himself, in his old +sequestered house; and when disengaged from his office he is to +be found in his library, or in his chemical laboratory, to which, +however, he admits no stranger. Besides many curious books, he +possesses a number of manuscripts, partly Arabic, Coptic, and some of +them in strange characters which belong not to any known tongue. These +he wishes to have copied properly; and for this purpose he requires +a man who can draw with the pen, and so transfer these marks to +parchment, in Indian ink, with the highest strictness and fidelity. +The work is carried on in a separate chamber of his house, under his +own oversight; and besides free board during the time of business, he +pays his man a specie-dollar, daily, and promises a handsome present +when the copying is rightly finished. The hours of work are from +twelve to six. From three to four, you take rest and dinner. + +"Herr Archivarius Lindhorst having in vain tried one or two young +people for copying these manuscripts, has at last applied to me to +find him an expert drawer; and so I have been thinking of you, +dear Herr Anselmus, for I know that you both write very neatly, and +likewise draw with the pen to great perfection. Now, if in these bad +times, and till your future establishment, you would like to earn a +speziesthaler in the day, and this present over and above, you can go +tomorrow precisely at noon, and call upon the Archivarius, whose house +no doubt you know. But be on your guard against any blot! If such a +thing falls on your copy, you must begin it again; if it falls on the +original, the Archivarius will think nothing of throwing you out of +the window, for he is a hot-tempered gentleman." + +The student Anselmus was filled with joy at Registrator Heerbrand's +proposal; for not only could the student write well and draw well +with the pen, but this copying with laborious calligraphic pains was +a thing he delighted in beyond aught else. So he thanked his patron in +the most grateful terms, and promised not to fail at noon tomorrow. + +All night the student Anselmus saw nothing but clear speziesthalers, +and heard nothing but their lovely clink. Who could blame the poor +youth, cheated of so many hopes by capricious destiny, obliged to take +counsel about every farthing, and to forego so many joys which a young +heart requires! Early in the morning he brought out his black-lead +pencils, his crow-quills, his Indian ink; for better materials, +thought he, the Archivarius can find nowhere. Above all, he mustered +and arranged his calligraphic masterpieces and his drawings, to show +them to the Archivarius, in proof of his ability to do what he wished. +All prospered with the student; a peculiar happy star seemed to be +presiding over him; his neckcloth sat right at the very first trial; +no tack burst; no loop gave way in his black silk stockings; his hat +did not once fall to the dust after he had trimmed it. In a word, +precisely at half-past eleven, the student Anselmus, in his pike-gray +frock, and black satin lower habiliments, with a roll of calligraphics +and pen-drawings in his pocket, was standing in the Schlossgasse, in +Conradi's shop, and drinking one--two glasses of the best stomachic +liqueur; for here, thought he, slapping on the still empty pocket, for +here speziesthalers will be clinking soon. + +Notwithstanding the distance of the solitary street where the +Archivarius Lindhorst's very ancient residence lay, the student +Anselmus was at the front door before the stroke of twelve. He stood +here, and was looking at the large fine bronze knocker; but now when, +as the last stroke tingled through the air with loud clang from the +steeple-clock of the Kreuzkirche, he lifted his hand to grasp this +same knocker, the metal visage twisted itself, with horrid rolling +of its blue-gleaming eyes, into a grinning smile. Alas, it was the +Apple-woman of the Black Gate! The pointed teeth gnashed together in +the loose jaws, and in their chattering through the skinny lips +there was a growl of: "Thou fool, fool, fool!--Wait, wait!--Why +didst run!--Fool!" Horror-struck, the student Anselmus flew back; +he clutched at the door-post, but his hand caught the bell-rope and +pulled it, and in piercing discords it rung stronger and stronger, and +through the whole empty house the echo repeated, as in mockery: "To +the crystal fall!" An unearthly terror seized the student Anselmus, +and quivered through all his limbs. The bell-rope lengthened downward, +and became a white, transparent, gigantic serpent, which encircled and +crushed him, and girded him straiter and straiter in its coils, till +his brittle, paralyzed limbs went crashing in pieces, and the blood +spouted from his veins, penetrating into the transparent body of the +serpent, and dyeing it red. "Kill me! Kill me!" he would have cried, +in his horrible agony; but the cry was only a stifled gurgle in his +throat. The serpent lifted its head, and laid its long peaked tongue +of glowing brass on the breast of Anselmus; then a fierce pang +suddenly cut asunder the artery of life, and thought fled away +from him. On returning to his senses, he was lying on his own poor +truckle-bed; Conrector Paulmann was standing before him, and saying: +"For Heaven's sake, what mad stuff is this, dear Herr Anselmus?" + + + + +SIXTH VIGIL + + Archivarius Lindhorst's Garden, with some Mocking birds. The Golden + Pot. English current-hand. Pot-hooks. The Prince of the Spirits. + + +"It may be, after all," said the student Anselmus to himself, "that +the superfine, strong, stomachic liqueur, which I took somewhat freely +at Monsieur Conradi's, might really be the cause of all these shocking +phantasms which so tortured me at Archivarius Lindhorst's door. +Therefore, I will go quite sober today, and so bid defiance to +whatever further mischief may assail me." On this occasion, as before, +when equipping himself for his first call on Archivarius Lindhorst, +the student Anselmus put his pen-drawings and calligraphic +masterpieces, his bars of Indian ink, and his well-pointed crow-pens, +into his pockets; and was just turning to go out, when his eye lighted +on the vial with the yellow liqueur, which he had received from +Archivarius Lindhorst. All the strange adventures he had met with +again rose on his mind in glowing colors; and a nameless emotion +of rapture and pain thrilled through his breast. Involuntarily he +exclaimed, with a most piteous voice: "Ah, am I not going to +the Archivarius solely for a sight of thee, thou gentle lovely +Serpentina!" At that moment he felt as if Serpentina's love might be +the prize of some laborious perilous task which he had to undertake, +and as if this task were no other than the copying of the Lindhorst +manuscripts. That at his very entrance into the house, or, more +properly, before his entrance, all manner of mysterious things might +happen, as of late, was no more than he anticipated. He thought no +more of Conradi's strong water, but hastily put the vial of liqueur +in his waistcoat-pocket that he might act strictly by the Archivarius' +directions, should the bronzed Apple-woman again take it upon her to +make faces at him. + +And did not the hawk-nose actually peak itself, did not the cat-eyes +actually glare from the knocker, as he raised his hand to it, at the +stroke of twelve? But now, without further ceremony, he dribbled his +liqueur into the pestilent visage; and it folded and molded itself, +that instant, down to a glittering bowl-round knocker. The door went +up; the bells sounded beautifully over all the house: "Klingling, +youngling, in, in, spring, spring, klingling." In good heart he +mounted the fine broad stair and feasted on the odors of some strange +perfumery that was floating through the house. In doubt, he paused on +the lobby; for he knew not at which of these many fine doors he was to +knock. But Archivarius Lindhorst, in a white damask nightgown, stepped +forth to him, and said: "Well, it is a real pleasure to me, Herr +Anselmus, that you have kept your word at last. Come this way, if you +please; I must take you straight into the Laboratory;" and with this +he stepped rapidly through the lobby, and opened a little side-door +which led into a long passage. Anselmus walked on in high spirits, +behind the Archivarius; they passed from this corridor into a hall, +or rather into a lordly green-house: for on both sides, up to the +ceiling, stood all manner of rare wondrous flowers, nay, great trees +with strangely-formed leaves and blossoms. A magic dazzling light +shone over the whole, though you could not discover whence it came, +for no window whatever was to be seen. As the student Anselmus looked +in through the bushes and trees, long avenues appeared to open +in remote distance. In the deep shade of thick cypress groves lay +glittering marble fountains, out of which rose wondrous figures, +spouting crystal jets that fell with pattering spray into gleaming +lily-cups; strange voices cooed and rustled through the wood of +curious trees; and sweetest perfumes streamed up and down. + +The Archivarius had vanished, and Anselmus saw nothing but a huge bush +of glowing fire-lilies before him. Intoxicated with the sight and the +fine odors of this fairy-garden, Anselmus stood fixed to the spot. +Then began on all sides of him a giggling and laughing; and light +little voices railed and mocked him: "Herr Studiosus! Herr Studiosus! +Where are you coming from? Why are you dressed so bravely, Herr +Anselmus? Will you chat with us for a minute, how grandmammy sat +squatting down upon the egg, and young master got a stain on his +Sunday waistcoat?--Can you play the new tune, now, which you learned +from Daddy Cocka-doodle, Herr Anselmus?--You look very fine in your +glass periwig, and post-paper boots." So cried and chattered and +sniggered the little voices, out of every corner, nay, close by the +student himself, who but now observed that all sorts of party-colored +birds were fluttering above him and jeering him in hearty laughter. +At that moment the bush of fire-lilies advanced toward him; and he +perceived that it was Archivarius Lindhorst, whose flowered nightgown, +glittering in red and yellow, had so far deceived his eyes. + +"I beg your pardon, worthy Herr Anselmus," said the Archivarius, "for +leaving you alone; I wished, in passing, to take a peep at my fine +cactus, which is to blossom tonight. But how like you my little +house-garden?" + +"Ah, Heaven! Immeasurably pretty it is, most valued Herr Archivarius," +replied the student; "but those party-colored birds have been +bantering me a little." + +"What wishy-washy is this?" cried the Archivarius angrily into the +bushes. Then a huge gray parrot came fluttering out, and perched +itself beside the Archivarius on a myrtle-bough; and looking at him +with an uncommon earnestness and gravity through a pair of spectacles +that stuck on his hooked bill, it shrilled out: "Don't take it amiss, +Herr Archivarius; my wild boys have been a little free or so; but the +Herr Studiosus has himself to blame in the matter, for----" + +"Hush! hush!" interrupted Archivarius Lindhorst; "I know the varlets; +but thou must keep them in better discipline, my friend!--Now, come +along, Herr Anselmus." + +And the Archivarius again stepped forth, through many a +strangely-decorated chamber; so that the student Anselmus, in +following him, could scarcely give a glance at all the glittering +wondrous furniture, and other unknown things, with which the whole of +them were filled. At last they entered a large apartment, where the +Archivarius, casting his eyes aloft, stood still; and Anselmus +got time to feast himself on the glorious sight which the simple +decoration of this hall afforded. Jutting from the azure-colored walls +rose gold-bronze trunks of high palm-trees, which wove their colossal +leaves, glittering like bright emeralds, into a ceiling far up; in the +middle of the chamber, and resting on three Egyptian lions, cast +out of dark bronze, lay a porphyry plate; and on this stood a simple +Golden Pot, from which, so soon as he beheld it, Anselmus could not +turn away an eye. It was as if, in a thousand gleaming reflections, +all sorts of shapes were sporting on the bright polished gold; often +he perceived his own form, with arms stretched out in longing--ah! +beneath the elder-bush--and Serpentina was winding and shooting up and +down, and again looking at him with her kind eyes. Anselmus was beside +himself with frantic rapture. + +"Serpentina! Serpentina!" cried he aloud; and Archivarius Lindhorst +whirled round abruptly, and said: "How now, worthy Herr Anselmus? If +I mistake not, you were pleased to call for my daughter; she is way +in the other side of the house at present, and indeed just taking her +lesson on the harpsichord. Let us go over." + +Anselmus, scarcely knowing what he did, followed his conductor; he saw +or heard nothing more, till Archivarius Lindhorst suddenly grasped his +hand, and said: "Here is the place!" Anselmus awoke as from a dream, +and now perceived that he was in a high room, all lined on every side +with book-shelves, and nowise differing from a common library and +study. In the middle stood a large writing-table, with a stuffed +arm-chair before it. "This," said Archivarius Lindhorst, "is your +work-room for the present: whether you may work, some other time, in +the blue library, also where you so suddenly called out my daughter's +name, I yet know not. But now I could wish to convince myself of your +ability to execute this task appointed to you, in the way I wish it +and need it." The student here gathered full courage; and not without +internal self-complacence in the certainty of highly gratifying +Archivarius Lindhorst through his extraordinary talents, pulled out +his drawings and specimens of penmanship from his pocket. But no +sooner had the Archivarius cast his eye on the first leaf, a piece of +writing in the finest English style, than he smiled very oddly, and +shook his head. These motions he repeated at every following leaf, so +that the student Anselmus felt the blood mounting to his face; and at +last, when the smile became quite sarcastic and contemptuous, he +broke out in downright vexation: "The Herr Archivarius does not seem +contented with my poor talents." + +"Dear Herr Anselmus," said Archivarius Lindhorst, "you have indeed +fine capacities for the art of calligraphy; but, in the meanwhile, it +is clear enough, I must reckon more on your diligence and good-will +than on your capacity." + +The student Anselmus spoke largely of his often-acknowledged +perfection in this art, of his fine Chinese ink, and most select +crow-quills. But Archivarius Lindhorst handed him the English sheet, +and said: "Be judge yourself!" Anselmus felt as if struck by a +thunderbolt, to see his handwriting look so: it was miserable, beyond +measure. There was no rounding in the turns, no hair-stroke where it +should be; no proportion between the capital and single letters; nay, +villainous school-boy pot-hooks often spoiled the best lines. "And +then," continued Archivarius Lindhorst, "your ink will not stand." He +dipped his finger in a glass of water, and as he just skimmed it over +the lines they vanished without vestige. The student Anselmus felt as +if some monster were throttling him; he could not utter a word. There +stood he with the unlucky sheet in his hand; but Archivarius Lindhorst +laughed aloud, and said: "Never mind it, dearest Herr Anselmus; what +you could not accomplish before, will perhaps do better here. At any +rate, you shall have better materials than you have been accustomed +to. Begin, in Heaven's name!" + +From a locked press Archivarius Lindhorst now brought out a black +fluid substance, which diffused a most peculiar odor; also pens, +sharply pointed and of strange color, together with a sheet of +especial whiteness and smoothness; then at last an Arabic manuscript; +and as Anselmus sat down to work, the Archivarius left the room. The +student Anselmus had often before copied Arabic manuscripts; the first +problem, therefore, seemed to him not so very difficult to solve. "How +these pot-hooks came into my fine English current-hand, Heaven and +Archivarius Lindhorst know best," said he; "but that they are not from +_my_ hand, I will testify to the death!" At every new word that stood +fair and perfect on the parchment, his courage increased, and with it +his adroitness. In truth, these pens wrote exquisitely well; and the +mysterious ink flowed pliantly and black as jet, on the bright white +parchment. And as he worked along so diligently and with such strained +attention, he began to feel more and more at home in the solitary +room; and already he had quite fitted himself into his task, which he +now hoped to finish well, when at the stroke of three the Archivarius +called him into the side-room to a savory dinner. At table, +Archivarius Lindhorst was in special gaiety of heart; he inquired +about the student Anselmus' friends, Conrector Paulmann, and +Registrator Heerbrand, and of the latter especially he had a store +of merry anecdotes to tell. The good old Rhenish was particularly +grateful to the student Anselmus, and made him more talkative than he +was wont to be. At the stroke of four he rose to resume his labor; and +this punctuality appeared to please the Archivarius. + +If the copying of these Arabic manuscripts had prospered in his hands +before dinner, the task now went forward much better; nay, he could +not himself comprehend the rapidity and ease with which he succeeded +in transcribing the twisted strokes of this foreign character. But +it was as if, in his inmost soul, a voice were whispering in audible +words: "Ah! couldst thou accomplish it wert thou not thinking of +_her_, didst thou not believe in _her_ and in her love?" Then there +floated whispers, as in low, low, waving crystal tones, through the +room: "I am near, near, near! I help thee; be bold, be steadfast, dear +Anselmus! I toil with thee, that thou mayest be mine!" And as, in +the fulness of secret rapture, he caught these sounds, the unknown +characters grew clearer and clearer to him; he scarcely required +to look on the original at all; nay, it was as if the letters were +already standing in pale ink on the parchment, and he had nothing more +to do than mark them black. So did he labor on, encompassed with dear, +consoling tones as with soft, sweet breath, till the clock struck six, +and Archivarius Lindhorst entered the room. He came forward to +the table, with a singular smile; Anselmus rose in silence; the +Archivarius still looked at him, with that mocking smile; but no +sooner had he glanced over the copy than the smile passed into deep, +solemn earnestness, which every feature of his face adapted itself to +express. He seemed no longer the same. His eyes, which usually gleamed +with sparkling fire, now looked with unutterable mildness at Anselmus; +a soft red tinted the pale cheeks; and instead of the irony which at +other times compressed the mouth, the softly-curved, graceful lips now +seemed to be opening for wise and soul-persuading speech. The whole +form was higher, statelier; the wide nightgown spread itself like a +royal mantle in broad folds over his breast and shoulders; and through +the white locks, which lay on his high open brow, there was wound a +thin band of gold. + +"Young man," began the Archivarius in solemn tone, "before thou +thoughtest of it, I knew thee, and all the secret relations which +bind thee to the dearest and holiest I have on earth! Serpentina loves +thee; a singular destiny, whose fateful threads were spun by hostile +powers, is fulfilled should she be thine and thou obtain, as an +essential dowry, the Golden Pot, which of right belongs to her. But +only from effort and contest can thy happiness in the higher life +arise; hostile Principles assail thee; and only the interior force +with which thou shalt withstand these assaults can save thee from +disgrace and ruin. Whilst laboring here thou art passing your +apprenticeship; belief and full knowledge will lead thee to the near +goal, if thou but hold fast what thou hast well begun. Bear _her_ +always and truly in thy thoughts, her who loves thee; then shalt thou +see the marvels of the Golden Pot, and be happy forevermore. Fare +thee well! Archivarius Lindhorst expects thee tomorrow at noon in +thy cabinet. Fare thee well!" With these words Archivarius Lindhorst +softly pushed the student Anselmus out of the door, which he then +locked; and Anselmus found himself in the chamber where he had dined, +the single door of which led out to the lobby. + +Altogether stupified with these strange phenomena, the student +Anselmus stood lingering at the street-door; he heard a window open +above him, and looked up: it was Archivarius Lindhorst, quite the +old man again, in his light-gray gown, as he usually appeared. The +Archivarius called to him: "Hey, worthy Herr Anselmus, what are +you studying over there? Tush, the Arabic is still in your head. +My compliments to Herr Conrector Paulmann, if you see him; and come +tomorrow precisely at noon. The fee for this day is lying in your +right waistcoat-pocket." The student Anselmus actually found the clear +speziesthaler in the pocket indicated; but he took no joy in it. "What +is to come of all this," said he to himself, "I know not; but if it +be some mad delusion and conjuring work that has laid hold of me, the +dear Serpentina still lives and moves in my inward heart, and rather +than leave her I will perish altogether; for I know that the thought +in me is eternal, and no hostile Principle can take it from me; and +what else is this thought but Serpentina's love?" + + + + +EIGHTH VIGIL + + The Library of the Palm-trees. Fortunes of an unhappy Salamander. + How the Black Quill caressed a Parsnip, and Registrator Heerbrand + was much overcome with Liqueur. + + +The student Anselmus had now worked several days with Archivarius +Lindhorst; these working hours were for him the happiest of his life; +ever encircled with the lovely tone of Serpentina's encouraging words, +he was filled and overflowed with a pure delight, which often rose +to highest rapture. Every strait, every little care of his needy +existence, had vanished from his thoughts; and in the new life which +had risen on him as in serene sunny splendor, he comprehended all +the wonders of a higher world, which before had filled him with +astonishment, nay, with dread. His copying proceeded rapidly and +lightly, for he felt more and more as if he were writing characters +long known to him; and he scarcely needed to cast his eye upon the +manuscript, while copying it all with the greatest exactness. + +Except at the hour of dinner, Archivarius Lindhorst seldom made his +appearance, and this always precisely at the moment when Anselmus +had finished the last letter of some manuscript; then the Archivarius +would hand him another, and, directly after, leave him without +uttering a word, having first stirred the ink with a little black rod +and changed the old pens with new sharp-pointed ones. One day, when +Anselmus, at the stroke of twelve, had as usual mounted the stairs, he +found the door through which he commonly entered, standing locked; and +Archivarius Lindhorst came forward from the other side, dressed in his +strange flower-figured nightgown. He called aloud: "Today come this +way, dear Anselmus; for we must to the chamber where Bhogovotgita's +masters are waiting for us." + +He stepped along the corridor, and led Anselmus through the same +chambers and halls as at the first visit. The student Anselmus again +felt astonished at the marvelous beauty of the garden; but he now +perceived that many of the strange flowers, hanging on the dark +bushes, were in truth insects gleaming with lordly colors, hovering +up and down with their little wings as they danced and whirled in +clusters, caressing one another with their antennae. On the other hand +again, the rose and azure-colored birds were odoriferous flowers; +and the perfume which they scattered mounted from their cups in low, +lovely tones, which, with the gurgling of distant fountains, and the +sighing of the high shrubs and trees, melted into mysterious harmonies +of a deep unutterable longing. The mocking-birds, which had so jeered +and flouted him before, were again fluttering to and fro over his +head and crying incessantly with their sharp, small voices: "Herr +Studiosus, Herr Studiosus, don't be in such a hurry! Don't peep into +the clouds so! You may fall on your nose--He, he! Herr Studiosus, put +your powder-mantle on; cousin Screech-Owl will frizzle your toupee." +And so it went along, in all manner of stupid chatter, till Anselmus +left the garden. + +Archivarius Lindhorst at last stepped into the azure chamber; the +porphyry, with the Golden Pot, was gone; instead of it, in the middle +of the room, stood a table overhung with violet-colored satin, upon +which lay the writing-materials already known to Anselmus; and a +stuffed arm-chair, covered with the same sort of cloth, was placed +before it. + +"Dear Herr Anselmus," said Archivarius Lindhorst, "you have now copied +me a number of manuscripts, rapidly and correctly, to my no small +contentment: you have gained my confidence; but the hardest is yet to +come; and that is the transcribing or rather painting of certain works +after the original, composed of peculiar signs; I keep them in this +room, and they can be copied only on the spot. You will, therefore, in +future, work here; but I must recommend to you the greatest foresight +and attention; a false stroke, or, which may Heaven forefend, a blot +let fall on the original, will plunge you into misfortune." + +Anselmus observed that from the golden trunks of the palm-trees, +little emerald leaves projected: one of these leaves the Archivarius +took hold of; and Anselmus could not but perceive that the leaf was in +truth a roll of parchment, which the Archivarius unfolded and spread +out before the student on the table. Anselmus wondered not a little +at these strangely intertwisted characters; and as he looked over +the many points, strokes, dashes, and twirls in the manuscript, which +seemed to represent either plants or mosses or animal figures, he +almost lost hope of ever copying it. He fell into deep thought on the +subject. + +"Be of courage, young man!" cried the Archivarius; "if thou hast +sterling faith and true love, Serpentina will help thee." + +His voice sounded like ringing metal; and as Anselmus looked up in +utter terror, Archivarius Lindhorst was standing before him in the +kingly form, which, during the first visit, he had assumed in the +library. Anselmus felt as if in his deep reverence he could not +but sink on his knee; but the Archivarius stepped up the trunk of a +palm-tree, and vanished aloft among the emerald leaves. The student +Anselmus understood that the Prince of the Spirits had been speaking +with him, and was now gone up to his study; perhaps intending to +advise with the beams which some of the planets had dispatched to him +as envoys, on what was to become of Anselmus and Serpentina. + +"It may be too," thought he further, "that he is expecting news from +the Springs of the Nile; or that some magician from Lapland is paying +him a visit; me it behooves to set diligently about my task." And +with this, he began studying the foreign characters in the roll of +parchment. + +The strange music of the garden sounded over to him and encircled him +with sweet lovely odors; the mocking-birds too he still heard chirping +and twittering, but could not distinguish their words--a thing which +greatly pleased him. At times also it was as if the emerald leaves of +the palm-trees were rustling, and as if the clear crystal tones, which +Anselmus on that fateful Ascension-day had heard under the elder-bush, +were beaming and flitting through the room. Wonderfully strengthened +by this shining and tinkling, the student Anselmus directed his eyes +and thoughts more and more intensely on the superscription of the +parchment roll; and ere long he felt, as it were from his inmost soul, +that the characters could denote nothing else than these words: _Of +the marriage of the Salamander with the green Snake_. Then resounded +a louder triphony of clear crystal bells; "Anselmus! dear Anselmus!" +floated to him from the leaves; and, O wonder! on the trunk of the +palm-tree the green Snake came winding down. + +"Serpentina! Serpentina!" cried Anselmus, in the madness of highest +rapture; for as he gazed more earnestly, it was in truth a lovely, +glorious maiden that, looking at him with those dark-blue eyes, full +of inexpressible longing, as they lived in his heart, was hovering +down to meet him. The leaves seemed to jut out and expand; on every +hand were prickles sprouting from the trunks; but Serpentina twisted +and wound herself deftly through them; and so drew her fluttering +robe, framing her as if in changeful colors, along with her, that, +playing round the dainty form, it nowhere caught on the projecting +points and prickles of the palm-trees. She sat down by Anselmus on the +same chair, clasping him with her arm, and pressing him toward her, +so that he felt the breath which came from her lips, and the electric +warmth of her frame. + +"Dear Anselmus!" began Serpentina, "thou shalt now soon be wholly +mine; by thy faith, by thy Love thou shalt obtain me, and I will bring +thee the Golden Pot, which shall make us both happy forevermore." + +"O thou kind, lovely Serpentina!" said Anselmus. "If I have but thee, +what care I for all else! If thou art but mine, I will joyfully give +in to all the wondrous mysteries that have beset me ever since the +moment when I first saw thee." + +"I know," continued Serpentina, "that the strange and mysterious +things with which my father, often merely in the sport of his humor, +has surrounded thee, have raised horror and dread in thy mind; but +now, I hope, it shall be so no more; for I came now only to tell thee, +dear Anselmus, from the bottom of my heart and soul, all and sundry to +a tittle that thou needest to know for understanding my father, and so +learn the real condition of both of us." + +Anselmus felt as if he were so wholly clasped and encircled by the +gentle, lovely form, that only with her could he move and stir, and +as if it were but the beating of her pulse that throbbed through +his nerves and fibres; he listened to each one of her words which +penetrated his inmost heart, and, like a burning ray, kindled in him +the rapture of Heaven. He had put his arm round that daintier than +dainty waist; but the changeful glistering cloth of her robe was +so smooth and slippery that it seemed to him as if she could at any +moment wind herself from his arms, and glide away. He trembled at the +thought. + +"Ah, do not leave me, sweet Serpentina!" cried he involuntarily; "thou +alone art my life." + +"Not now," said Serpentina, "till I have told thee all that in thy +love of me thou canst comprehend." + +"Know then, dearest, that my father is sprung from the wondrous race +of the Salamanders; and that I owe my existence to his love for the +green Snake. In primeval times, in the Fairyland Atlantis, the potent +Spirit-prince Phosphorus bore rule; and to him the Salamanders, and +other Spirits of the Elements, were plighted. Once on a time, the +Salamander, whom he loved before all others (it was my father), +chanced to be walking in the stately garden, which Phosphorus' mother +had decked in the lordliest fashion with her best gifts; and the +Salamander heard a tall Lily singing in low tones: `Press down thy +little eyelids, till my Lover, the Morning-wind, awake thee.' He +stepped toward it: touched by his glowing breath, the Lily opened her +leaves; and he saw the Lily's daughter, the green Snake, lying asleep +in the hollow of the flower. Then was the Salamander inflamed with +warm love for the fair Snake; and he carried her away from the Lily, +whose perfumes in nameless lamentation vainly called for her beloved +daughter throughout all the garden. For the Salamander had borne her +into the palace of Phosphorus, and was there beseeching him: 'Wed me +with my beloved, for she shall be mine forevermore.' 'Madman, what +askest thou!' said the Prince of the Spirits; 'know that once the Lily +was my mistress, and bore rule with me; but the Spark, which I cast +into her, threatened to annihilate the fair Lily; and only my victory +over the black Dragon, whom now the Spirits of the Earth hold in +fetters, maintains her, that her leaves continue strong enough to +inclose this Spark and preserve it within them. But when thou claspest +the green Snake, thy fire will consume her frame; and a new Being, +rapidly arising from her dust, will soar away and leave thee.' + +"The Salamander heeded not the warning of the Spirit-prince: full of +longing ardor he folded the green Snake in his arms; she crumbled into +ashes; a winged Being, born from her dust, soared away through the +sky. Then the madness of desperation caught the Salamander, and he ran +through the garden, throwing forth fire and flames, and wasted it +in his wild fury, till its fairest flowers and blossoms hung down, +blackened and scathed, and their lamentation filled the air. The +indignant Prince of the Spirits, in his wrath, laid hold of the +Salamander, and said: 'Thy fire has burnt out, thy flames are +extinguished, thy rays darkened; sink down to the Spirits of the +Earth; let these mock and jeer thee, and keep thee captive, till the +Fire-element shall again kindle and beam up with thee as with a new +being from the Earth.' The poor Salamander sank down extinguished; +but now the testy old Earth-spirit, who was Phosphorus' gardener, +came forth and said: 'Master! who has greater cause to complain of the +Salamander than I? Had not all the fair flowers, which he has burnt, +been decorated with my gayest metals; had I not stoutly nursed and +tended their seeds, and spent many a fair hue on their leaves? And yet +I must pity the poor Salamander; for it was but love, in which thou, O +Master, hast full often been entangled, that drove him to despair +and made him desolate the garden. Remit him the too harsh +punishment!'--'His fire is for the present extinguished,' said the +Prince of the Spirits; 'but in the hapless time, when the Speech of +Nature shall no longer be intelligible to degenerate man; when the +Spirits of the Elements, banished into their own regions, shall speak +to him only from afar, in faint, spent echoes; when, displaced from +the harmonious circle, an infinite longing alone shall give him +tidings of the Land of Marvels, which he once might inhabit while +Faith and Love still dwelt in his soul--in this hapless time the fire +of the Salamander shall again kindle; but only to manhood shall he +be permitted to rise, and, entering wholly into man's necessitous +existence, he shall learn to endure its wants and oppressions. Yet not +only shall the remembrance of his first state continue with him, but +he shall again rise into the sacred harmony of all Nature; he shall +understand its wonders, and the power of his fellow-spirits shall +stand at his behest. Then, too, in a Lily-bush, shall he find the +green Snake again, and the fruit of his marriage with her shall be +three daughters, which, to men, shall appear in the form of their +mother. In the spring season these shall disport them in the dark +Elder-bush, and sound with their lovely crystal voices. And then if, +in that needy and mean age of inward obduracy, there shall be found +a youth who understands their song; nay, if one of the little Snakes +look at him with her kind eyes; if the look awaken in him forecastings +of the distant, wondrous Land, to which, having cast away the burden +of the Common, he can courageously soar; if, with love to the Snake, +there rise in him belief in the Wonders of Nature, nay, in his own +existence amid these Wonders--then the Snake shall be his. But not +till three youths of this sort have been found and wedded to the three +daughters, may the Salamander cast away his heavy burden, and return +to his brothers.'--'Permit me, Master,' said the Earth-spirit, 'to +make these three daughters a present, which may glorify their life +with the husbands they shall find. Let each of them receive from me +a Pot, of the fairest metal which I have; I will polish it with +beams borrowed from the diamond; in its glitter shall our Kingdom +of Wonders, as it now exists in the Harmony of universal Nature, be +mirrored in glorious dazzling reflection; and from its interior, on +the day of marriage, shall spring forth a Fire-lily, whose eternal +blossom shall encircle the youth that is found worthy, with sweet +wafting odors. Soon too shall he learn its speech, and understand +the wonders of our kingdom, and dwell with his beloved in Atlantis +itself.' + +"Thou perceivest well, dear Anselmus, that the Salamander of whom I +speak is no other than my father. Spite of his higher nature, he was +forced to subject himself to the paltriest afflictions of common life; +and hence, indeed, often comes the mischievous humor with which he +vexes many. He has told me now and then, that, for the inward make of +mind, which the Spirit-prince Phosphorus required as a condition of +marriage with me and my sisters, men have a name at present, which, +in truth, they frequently enough misapply: they call it a childlike +poetic mind. This mind, he says, is often found in youths, who, by +reason of their high simplicity of manners and their total want of +what is called knowledge of the world, are mocked by the populace. Ah, +dear Anselmus, beneath the Elder-bush thou understoodest my song, my +look; thou lovest the green Snake, thou believest in me, and wilt be +mine forevermore! The fair Lily will bloom forth from the Golden +Pot; and we shall dwell, happy, and united, and blessed, in Atlantis +together! + +"Yet I must not hide from thee that in its deadly battle with the +Salamanders and Spirits of the Earth, the black Dragon burst from +their grasp and hurried off through the air. Phosphorus, indeed, +again holds him in fetters; but from the black Quills, which, in the +struggle, rained down on the ground, there sprung up hostile Spirits, +which on all hands set themselves against the Salamanders and Spirits +of the Earth. That woman who so hates thee, dear Anselmus, and who, +as my father knows full well, is striving for possession of the +Golden Pot; that woman owes her existence to the love of such a Quill +(plucked in battle from the Dragon's wing) for a certain Parsnip +beside which it dropped. She knows her origin and her power; for, in +the moans and convulsions of the captive Dragon, the secrets of many a +mysterious constellation are revealed to her; and she uses every means +and effort to work from the Outward into the Inward and unseen; while +my father, with the beams which shoot forth from the spirit of the +Salamander, withstands and subdues her. All the baneful principles +which lurk in deadly herbs and poisonous beasts, she collects; and, +mixing them under favorable constellations, raises therewith many +a wicked spell, which overwhelms the soul of man with fear and +trembling, and subjects him to the power of those Demons, produced +from the Dragon when it yielded in battle. Beware of that old woman, +dear Anselmus! She hates thee because thy childlike, pious character +has annihilated many of her wicked charms. Keep true, true to me; soon +art thou at the goal!" + +"O my Serpentina! my own Serpentina!" cried the student Anselmus, "how +could I leave thee, how should I not love thee forever!" A kiss was +burning on his lips; he awoke as from a deep dream; Serpentina had +vanished; six o'clock was striking, and it fell heavy on his heart +that today he had not copied a single stroke. Full of anxiety, and +dreading reproaches from the Archivarius, he looked into the sheet; +and, O wonder! the copy of the mysterious manuscript was fairly +concluded; and he thought, on viewing the characters more narrowly, +that the writing was nothing else but Serpentina's story of her +father, the favorite of the Spirit-prince Phosphorus, in Atlantis, +the Land of Marvels. And now entered Archivarius Lindhorst, in his +light-gray surtout, with hat and staff; he looked into the parchment +on which Anselmus had been writing, took a large pinch of snuff, and +said with a smile "Just as I thought!--Well, Herr Anselmus, here is +your speziesthaler; we will now to the Linke Bath; do but follow me!" +The Archivarius stepped rapidly through the garden, in which there was +such a din of singing, whistling, talking, that the student Anselmus +was quite deafened with it and thanked Heaven when he found himself on +the street. + +Scarcely had they walked a few paces when they met Registrator +Heerbrand, who companionably joined them. At the Gate, they filled +their pipes, which they had about them; Registrator Heerbrand +complained that he had left his tinder-box behind, and could not +strike fire. "Fire!" cried Archivarius Lindhorst, scornfully; "here is +fire enough, and to spare!" And with this he snapped his fingers, out +of which came streams of sparks and directly kindled the pipes.--"Do +but observe the chemical knack of some men!" said Registrator +Heerbrand; but the student Anselmus thought, not without internal awe, +of the Salamander and his history. + +In the Linke Bath, Registrator Heerbrand drank so much strong double +beer that at last, though usually a good-natured, quiet man, he began +singing student songs in squeaking tenor; he asked every one sharply +whether he was his friend or not; and at last had to be taken home by +the student Anselmus, long after Archivarius had gone his way. + + + + +NINTH VIGIL + + How the student Anselmus attained to some Sense. The Punch Parts. + How the student Anselmus took Conrector Paulmann for a Screech-Owl, + and the latter felt much hurt at it. The Ink-blot, and its + Consequences. + + +The strange and mysterious things which day by day befell the student +Anselmus had entirely withdrawn him from every-day life. He no longer +visited any of his friends, and waited every morning with impatience +for the hour of noon, which was to unlock his paradise. And yet while +his whole soul was turned to the sweet Serpentina and the wonders of +Archivarius Lindhorst's fairy kingdom, he could not help now and then +thinking of Veronica; nay, often it seemed as if she came before him +and confessed with blushes how heartily she loved him, how much +she longed to rescue him from the phantoms which were mocking and +befooling him. At times he felt as if a foreign power, suddenly +breaking in on his mind, were drawing him with resistless force to the +forgotten Veronica; as if he must needs follow her whither she pleased +to lead him, nay, as if he were bound to her by ties that would not +break. That very night after Serpentina had first appeared to him +in the form of a lovely maiden, after the wondrous secret of the +Salamander's nuptials with the green Snake had been disclosed, +Veronica, came before him more vividly than ever. Nay, not till he +awoke was he clearly aware that he had been but dreaming; for he had +felt persuaded that Veronica was actually beside him, complaining with +an expression of keen sorrow, which pierced through his inmost soul, +that he should sacrifice her deep, true love to fantastic visions, +which only the distemper of his mind called into being, and which, +moreover, would at last prove his ruin. Veronica was lovelier than he +had ever seen her; he could not drive her from his thoughts: and in +this perplexed and contradictory mood he hastened out, hoping to get +rid of it by a morning walk. + +A secret magic influence led him on to the Pirna gate; he was just +turning into a cross street, when Conrector Paulmann, coming after +him, cried out: "Ey! Ey!--Dear Herr Anselmus!--_Amice! Amice_! Where, +in Heaven's name, have you been buried so long? We never see you at +all. Do you know, Veronica is longing very much to have another song +with you! So come along; you were just on the road to me, at any +rate." + +The student Anselmus, constrained by this friendly violence, went +along with the Conrector. On entering the house they were met by +Veronica, attired with such neatness and attention that Conrector +Paulmann, full of amazement, asked her: "Why so decked, Mam'sell? Were +you expecting visitors? Well, here I bring you Herr Anselmus." The +student Anselmus, in daintily and elegantly kissing Veronica's hand +felt a small soft pressure from it, which shot like a stream of fire +over all his frame. Veronica was cheerfulness, was grace itself; and +when Paulmann left them for his study, she contrived, by all manner of +rogueries and waggeries, so to uplift the student Anselmus that he at +last quite forgot his bashfulness, and jigged round the room with the +light-headed maiden. But here again the Demon of Awkwardness got hold +of him; he jolted a table, and Veronica's pretty little work-box fell +to the floor. Anselmus picked it up; the lid had sprung, and a little +round metallic mirror was glittering on him, into which he looked with +peculiar delight. Veronica glided softly up to him, laid her hand on +his arm, and, pressing close to him, looked over his shoulder into the +mirror also. And now Anselmus felt as if a battle were beginning +in his soul; thoughts, images flashed out--Archivarius +Lindhorst--Serpentina--the green Snake--at last the tumult abated, and +all this chaos arranged and shaped itself into distinct consciousness. +It was now clear to him that he had always thought of Veronica alone; +nay, that the form which had yesterday appeared to him in the blue +chamber had been no other than Veronica; and that the wild legend of +the Salamander's marriage with the green Snake had merely been written +down by him from the manuscript, but nowise related in his hearing. He +wondered not a little at all these dreams and ascribed them solely to +the heated state of mind into which Veronica's love had brought him, +as well as to his working with Archivarius Lindhorst, in whose rooms +there were, besides, so many strangely intoxicating odors. He could +not but laugh heartily at the mad whim of falling in love with a +little green Snake and taking a well-fed Privy Archivarius for a +Salamander: "Yes, Yes! It is Veronica!" cried he aloud; but on turning +his head around he looked right into Veronica's blue eyes, from which +warmest love was beaming. A faint soft Ah! escaped her lips, which at +that moment were burning on his. + +"O happy I!" sighed the enraptured student: "What I yesternight but +dreamed, is in very deed mine today." + +"But wilt thou really wed me, then, when thou art Hofrat?" said +Veronica. + +"That I will," replied the student Anselmus; and just then the door +creaked, and Conrector Paulmann entered with the words: + +"Now, dear Herr Anselmus, I will not let you go today. You will put up +with a bad dinner; then Veronica will make us delightful coffee, which +we shall drink with Registrator Heerbrand, for he promised to come +hither." + +"All, best Herr Conrector!" answered the student Anselmus, "are you +not aware that I must go to Archivarius Lindhorst's and copy?" + +"Look you, Amice!" said Conrector Paulmann, holding up his watch, +which pointed to half-past twelve. + +The student Anselmus saw clearly that he was much too late for +Archivarius Lindhorst; and he complied with the Corrector's wishes the +more readily as he might now hope to look at Veronica the whole day +long, to obtain many a stolen glance and little squeeze of the hand, +nay, even to succeed in conquering a kiss--so high had the student +Anselmus' desires now mounted; he felt more and more contented in +soul, the more fully he convinced himself that he should soon be +delivered from all the fantastic imaginations, which really might have +made a sheer idiot of him. + +Registrator Heerbrand came, as he had promised, after dinner; and +coffee being over, and the dusk come on, the Registrator, his face +puckering up to a smile and gaily rubbing his hands, signified that he +had something about him which, if mingled and reduced to form, as it +were paged and titled, by Veronica's fair hands, might be pleasant to +them all, on this October evening. + +"Come out, then, with this mysterious substance which you carry +with, you, most valued Registrator," cried Conrector Paulmann. Then +Registrator Heerbrand shoved his hand into his deep pocket, and at +three journeys brought out a bottle of arrack, some citrons, and a +quantity of sugar. Before half an hour had passed, a savory bowl of +punch was smoking on Paulmann's table. Veronica served the beverage; +and ere long there was plenty of gay, good-natured chat among the +friends. But the student Anselmus, as the spirit of the punch mounted +into his head, felt all the images of those wondrous things, which for +some time he had experienced, again coming through his mind. He +saw the Archivarius in his damask nightgown, which glittered like +phosphorus; he saw the azure room, the golden palm-trees; nay, it now +seemed to him as if he must still believe in Serpentina; there was a +fermentation, a conflicting tumult in his soul. Veronica handed him +a glass of punch; and in taking it, he gently touched her hand. +"Serpentina! Veronica!" sighed he to himself. He sank into deep +dreams; but Registrator Heerbrand cried quite aloud: "A strange old +gentleman, whom nobody can fathom, he is and will be, this Archivarius +Lindhorst. Well, long life to him! Your glass, Herr Anselmus!" + +Then the student Anselmus awoke from his dreams, and said, as he +touched glasses with Registrator Heerbrand "That proceeds, respected +Herr Registrator, from the circumstance that Archivarius Lindhorst +is in reality a Salamander, who wasted in his fury the Spirit-prince +Phosphorus' garden, because the green Snake had flown away from him." + +"How? What?" inquired Conrector Paulmann. + +"Yes," continued the student Anselmus; "and for this reason he is now +forced to be a Royal Archivarius, and to keep house here in Dresden +with his three daughters, who, after all, are nothing more than little +gold-green Snakes, that bask in elder-bushes, and traitorously sing, +and seduce away young people, like so many sirens." + +"Herr Anselmus! Herr Anselmus!" cried Conrector Paulmann, "is there +a crack in your brain? In Heaven's name, what monstrous stuff is this +you are babbling?" + +"He is right," interrupted Registrator Heerbrand; "that fellow, that +Archivarius, is a cursed Salamander, and strikes you fiery snips from +his fingers, which burn holes in your surtout like red-hot tinder. Ay, +ay, thou art in the right, brotherkin Anselmus; and whoever says No, +is saying No to me!" And at these words Registrator Heerbrand struck +the table with his fist, till the glasses rattled. + +"Registrator! Are you crazy?" cried the angry Conrector. "Herr +Studiosus, Herr Studiosus! What is this you are about again?" + +"Ah!" said the student, "you too are nothing but a bird, a +screech-owl, that frizzles toupees, Herr Conrector!" "What!--I +a bird?--screech-owl, a frizzler?" cried the Conrector, full of +indignation; "Sir, you are mad, born mad!" + +"But the crone will get a clutch of him," cried Registrator Heerbrand. + +"Yes, the crone is potent," interrupted the student Anselmus, "though +she is but of mean descent; for her father was nothing but a ragged +wing-feather, and her mother a dirty parsnip; but the most of her +power she owes to all sorts of baneful creatures, poisonous vermin +which she keeps about her." + +"That is a horrid calumny," cried Veronica, with eyes all glowing in +anger; "old Liese is a wise woman; and the black Cat is no baneful +creature, but a polished young gentleman of elegant manners, and her +cousin german." + +"Can _he_ eat Salamanders without singeing his whiskers, and dying +like a candle-snuff?" cried Registrator Heerbrand. + +"No! no!" shouted the student Anselmus, "that he never can in this +world; and the green Snake loves me, for I have a childlike mien, and +I have looked into Serpentina's eyes." + +"The Cat will scratch them out," cried Veronica. + +"Salamander, Salamander masters them all, all!" hallooed Conrector +Paulmann, in the highest fury. "But am I in a madhouse? Am I mad +myself? What crazy stuff am I chattering? Yes, I am mad too! mad too!" +And with this, Conrector Paulmann started up, tore the peruke from his +head and dashed it against the ceiling of the room, till the battered +locks whizzed, and, tangled into utter disorder, rained down the +powder far and wide. Then the student Anselmus and Registrator +Heerbrand seized the punch-bowl and the glasses, and, hallooing and +huzzaing, pitched them against the ceiling also, and the sherds fell +jingling and tingling about their ears. + +"_Vivat_ the Salamander!--_Pereat, pereat_ the crone!--Break the +metal mirror!--Dig the cat's eyes out!--Bird, little Bird, from the +air--_Eheu--Eheu--Evoe--Evoe_, Salamander!" So shrieked and shouted +and bellowed the three, like utter maniacs. With loud weeping, +Fränzchen ran out; but Veronica lay whimpering for pain and sorrow on +the sofa. + +At this moment the door opened; all was instantly still; and a little +man, in a small gray cloak, came stepping in. His countenance had +a singular air of gravity; and especially the round hooked nose, on +which was a huge pair of spectacles, distinguished itself from all the +noses ever seen. He wore a strange peruke too--more like a feather-cap +than a wig. + +"Ey, many good evenings!" grated and cackled the little comical +mannikin. "Is the student Herr Anselmus among you, gentlemen?--Best +compliments from Archivarius Lindhorst; he has waited today in vain +for Herr Anselmus; but tomorrow he begs most respectfully to request +that Herr Anselmus would not forget the hour." + +And with this he went out again; and all of them now saw clearly +that the grave little mannikin was in fact a gray Parrot. Conrector +Paulmann and Registrator Heerbrand raised a horse-laugh, which +reverberated through the room, and, in the intervals, Veronica was +moaning and whimpering, as if torn by nameless sorrow; but as to the +student Anselmus, the madness of inward horror was darting through +him, and unconsciously he ran out of the door, into the street. +Instinctively he reached his house, his garret. Ere long Veronica came +in to him, with a peaceful and friendly look, and asked him why, in +his intoxication, he had so alarmed her; and desired him to be on +his guard against new imaginations, while working at Archivarius +Lindhorst's. "Good night, good night, my beloved friend!" whispered +Veronica, scarce audibly, and breathed a kiss on his lips. He +stretched out his arms to clasp her, but the dreamy shape had +vanished, and he awoke cheerful and refreshed. He could not but laugh +heartily at the effects of the punch; but in thinking of Veronica, he +felt pervaded by a most delightful feeling. "To her alone," said he +within himself, "do I owe this return from my insane whims. In good +sooth, I was little better than the man who believed himself to be of +glass; or he who durst not leave his room for fear the hens should eat +him, as he imagined himself to be a barleycorn. But as soon as I am +Hofrat I will marry Mademoiselle Paulmann and be happy, and there's an +end of it." + +At noon, as he walked through Archivarius Lindhorst's garden, he +could not help wondering how all this had once appeared so strange and +marvelous to him. He now saw nothing but common, earthen flowerpots, +quantities of geraniums, myrtles, and the like. Instead of the +glittering party-colored birds which used to flout him, there were +only a few sparrows fluttering hither and thither, which raised an +unpleasant, unintelligible cry at sight of Anselmus. The azure room +also had quite a different look; and he could not understand how that +glaring blue, and those unnatural golden trunks of palm-trees, with +their shapeless glistening leaves, should ever have pleased him for a +moment. The Archivarius looked at him with a most peculiar, ironical +smile, and asked: "Well, how did you like the punch last night, good +Anselmus?" + +"Ah, doubtless you have heard from the gray Parrot how--" answered the +student Anselmus, quite ashamed; but he stopped short, bethinking him +that this appearance of the Parrot was all a piece of jugglery of the +confused senses. + +"I was there myself," said Archivarius Lindhorst; "did you not see me? +But, among the mad pranks you were playing, I had nigh got lamed; for +I was sitting in the punch-bowl, at the very moment when Registrator +Heerbrand laid hands on it, to dash it against the ceiling; and I had +to make a quick retreat into the Conrector's pipehead. Now, adieu, +Herr Anselmus! Be diligent at your task; for the lost day also you +shall have a speziesthaler, because you worked so well before." + +"How can the Archivarius babble such mad stuff?" thought the student +Anselmus, sitting down at the table to begin the copying of the +manuscript, which Archivarius Lindhorst had as usual spread out before +him. But on the parchment roll he perceived so many strange crabbed +strokes and twirls all twisted together in inexplicable confusion, +offering no resting-point for the eye, that it seemed to him well-nigh +impossible to copy all this exactly. Nay, in glancing over the whole, +you might have thought the parchment was nothing but a piece of +thickly veined marble, or a stone sprinkled over with lichens. +Nevertheless he determined to do his utmost, and boldly dipped in +his pen; but the ink would not run, do what he would; impatiently +he spirted the point of his pen against his nail, and--Heaven and +Earth!--a huge blot fell on the out-spread original! Hissing and +foaming, a blue flash rose from the blot, and, crackling and wavering, +shot through the room to the ceiling. Then a thick vapor rolled from +the walls; the leaves began to rustle, as if shaken by a tempest; and +down out of them darted glaring basilisks in sparkling fire; these +kindled the vapor, and the bickering masses of flame rolled round +Anselmus. The golden trunks of the palm-trees became gigantic snakes, +which knocked their frightful heads together with piercing metallic +clang and wound their scaly bodies round Anselmus. + +"Madman I suffer now the punishment of what, in insolent sacrilege, +thou hast done!" So cried the frightful voice of the crowned +Salamander, who appeared above the snakes like a glittering beam in +the midst of the flame; and now the yawning jaws of the snakes poured +forth cataracts of fire on Anselmus; and it was as if the fire-streams +were congealing about his body and changing into a firm ice-cold +mass. But while Anselmus' limbs, more and more pressed together and +contracted, stiffened into powerlessness, his senses passed away. +On returning to himself, he could not stir a joint; he was as if +surrounded with a glistening brightness, on which he struck if he but +tried to lift his hand or move otherwise.--Alas! He was sitting in a +well-corked crystal bottle, on a shelf, in the library of Archivarius +Lindhorst. + + + + +TENTH VIGIL + + Sorrows of the student Anselmus in the Glass Bottle. Happy Life of + the Cross Church Scholars and Law Clerks. The Battle in the Library + of Archivarius Lindhorst. Victory of the Salamander, and Deliverance + of the student Anselmus. + + +Justly may I doubt whether thou, kind reader, wert ever sealed up in +a glass bottle; or even that any vivid tormenting dream ever oppressed +thee with such a demon from fairyland. If such were the case, thou +wouldst keenly enough figure out the poor student Anselmus' woe; but +shouldst thou never have even dreamed such things, then will thy quick +fancy, for Anselmus' sake and mine, be obliging enough to inclose +itself for a few moments in the crystal. Thou art drowned in dazzling +splendor; all objects about thee appear illuminated and begirt with +beaming rainbow hues; all quivers and wavers, and clangs and drones, +in the sheen; thou art floating motionless as in a firmly congealed +ether, which so presses thee together that the spirit in vain gives +orders to the dead and stiffened body. Weightier and weightier the +mountain burden lies on thee; more and more does every breath exhaust +the little handful of air, that still plays up and down in the narrow +space; thy pulse throbs madly; and, cut through with horrid anguish, +every nerve is quivering and bleeding in this deadly agony. Have +pity, kind reader, on the student Anselmus of whom this inexpressible +torture laid hold in his glass prison; but he felt too well that death +could not relieve him; for did he not awake from the deep swoon +into which the excess of pain had cast him, and open his eyes to new +wretchedness, when the morning sun shone clear into the room? He could +move no limb; but his thoughts struck against the glass, stupefying +him with discordant clang; and instead of the words, which the spirit +used to speak from within him, he now heard only the stifled din of +madness. Then he exclaimed in his despair "O Serpentina! Serpentina! +save me from this agony of Hell!" And it was as if faint sighs +breathed around him, which spread like green transparent elder-leaves +over the glass; the clanging ceased; the dazzling, perplexing glitter +was gone, and he breathed more freely. + +"Have not I myself solely to blame for my misery? Ah! Have not I +sinned against thee, thou kind, beloved Serpentina? Have not I raised +vile doubts of thee? Have not I lost my faith, and, with it, all, +all that was to make me so blessed? Ah! Thou wilt now never, never +be mine; for me the Golden Pot is lost, and I shall not behold its +wonders any more. Ah, but once could I see thee, but once hear thy +gentle sweet voice, thou lovely Serpentina!" + +So wailed the student Anselmus, caught with deep piercing sorrow; then +spoke a voice close by him: "What the devil ails you Herr Studiosus? +What makes you lament so, out of all compass and measure?" + +The student Anselmus now noticed that on the same shelf with him were +five other bottles, in which he perceived three Cross Church Scholars, +and two Law Clerks. + +"Ah, gentlemen, my fellows in misery," cried he, "how is it possible +for you to be so calm, nay so happy, as I read in your cheerful looks? +You are sitting here corked up in glass bottles, as well as I, and +cannot move a finger, nay, not think a reasonable thought but there +rises such a murder-tumult of clanging and droning and in your head +itself a tumbling and rumbling enough to drive one mad. But doubtless +you do not believe in the Salamander, or the green Snake." + +"You are pleased to jest, Mein Herr Studiosus," replied a Cross Church +Scholar; "we have never been better off than at present; for the +speziesthalers which the mad Archivarius gave us for all manner of +pot-hook copies, are clinking in our pockets; we have now no Italian +choruses to learn by heart; we go every day to Joseph's or other inns, +where we do justice to the double-beer, we even look pretty girls in +their faces; and we sing, like real students, _Gaudeamus igitur_, and +are contented in spirit!" + +"The gentlemen are quite right," added a Law Clerk; "I too am well +furnished with speziesthalers, like my dearest colleague beside me +here; and we now diligently walk about on the Weinberg, instead of +scurvy Act-writing within four walls." + +"But, my best, worthiest gentlemen!" said the student Anselmus, "do +you not feel, then, that you are all and sundry corked up in glass +bottles, and cannot for your hearts walk a hair's-breadth?" + +Here the Cross Church Scholars and the Law Clerks set up a loud laugh, +and cried: "The student is mad; he fancies himself to be sitting in +a glass bottle, and is standing on the Elbe-bridge and looking right +down into the water. Let us go along!" + +"Ah!" sighed the student, "they have never seen the sweet Serpentina; +they know not what Freedom, and life in Love, and Faith, signify; +and so by reason of their folly and low-mindedness, they feel not +the oppression of the imprisonment into which the Salamander has cast +them. But I, unhappy I, must perish in want and woe, if she, whom I so +inexpressibly love, do not deliver me!" + +Then, waving in faint tinkles, Serpentina's voice flitted through +the room: "Anselmus! believe, love, hope!" And every tone beamed +into Anselmus' prison; and the crystal yielded to his pressure, and +expanded, till the breast of the captive could move and heave. + +The torment of his situation became less and less, and he saw clearly +that Serpentina still loved him, and that it was she alone, who +had rendered his confinement in the crystal tolerable. He disturbed +himself no more about his frivolous companions in misfortune, but +directed all his thoughts and meditations on the gentle Serpentina. +Suddenly, however, there arose on the other side a dull, croaking, +repulsive murmur. Ere long he could observe that it proceeded from an +old coffee-pot, with half-broken lid, standing over against him on a +little shelf. As he looked at it more narrowly, the ugly features of +a wrinkled old woman by degrees unfolded themselves; and in a few +moments, the Apple-wife of the Black Gate stood before him. She +grinned and laughed at him, and cried with screeching voice: "Ey, Ey, +my pretty boy, must thou lie in limbo now? To the crystal thou hast +run; did I not tell thee long ago?" + +"Mock and jeer me; do, thou cursed witch!" said the student Anselmus. +"Thou art to blame for it all; but the Salamander will catch thee, +thou vile Parsnip!" + +"Ho, ho!" replied the crone, "not so proud, good ready-writer! Thou +hast smashed my little sons to pieces, thou hast burnt my nose; but I +must still like thee, thou knave, for once thou wert a pretty fellow; +and my little daughter likes thee too. Out of the crystal thou wilt +never come unless I help thee; up thither I cannot clamber; but my +cousin gossip the Rat, that lives close above thee, will gnaw in two +the shelf on which thou standest; thou shalt jingle down, and I catch +thee in my apron, that thy nose be not broken, or thy fine sleek face +at all injured; then I will carry thee to Mam'sell Veronica, and thou +shalt marry her when thou art Hofrat." + +"Avaunt, thou devil's brood!" cried the student Anselmus, full of +fury; "it was thou alone and thy hellish arts that brought me to the +sin which I must now expiate. But I bear it all patiently; for only +here can I be, where the kind Serpentina encircles me with love and +consolation. Hear it, thou beldam, and despair! I bid defiance to +thy power; I love Serpentina, and none but her forever; I will not +be Hofrat, will not look at Veronica, who by thy means entices me +to evil. Can the green Snake not be mine, I will die in sorrow and +longing. Take thyself away, thou vile rook! Take thyself away!" + +The crone laughed till the chamber rung: "Sit and die then," cried +she, "but now it is time to set to work; for I have other trade to +follow here." She threw off her black cloak, and so stood in hideous +nakedness; then she ran round in circles, and large folios came +tumbling down to her; out of these she tore parchment leaves, and, +rapidly patching them together in artful combination and fixing +them on her body, in a few instants she was dressed as if in strange +party-colored scale harness. Spitting fire, the black Cat darted out +of the ink-glass, which was standing on the table, and ran mewing +toward the crone, who shrieked in loud triumph and along with him +vanished through the door. + +Anselmus observed that she went toward the azure chamber, and directly +he heard a hissing and storming in the distance; the birds in the +garden were crying; the Parrot creaked out: "Help! help! Thieves! +thieves!" That moment the crone returned with a bound into the room, +carrying the Golden Pot on her arm, and, with hideous gestures, +shrieking wildly through the air; "Joy! joy, little son!--Kill the +green Snake! To her, son! To her!" + +Anselmus thought he heard a deep moaning, heard Serpentina's voice. +Then horror and despair took hold of him; he gathered all his force, +he dashed violently, as if nerve and artery were bursting, against the +crystal; a piercing clang went through the room, and the Archivarius +in his bright damask nightgown was standing in the door. + +"Hey, hey! vermin!--Mad spell!--Witchwork!--Hither, holla!" So shouted +he; then the black hair of the crone started up like bristles; her +red eyes glanced with infernal fire, and clenching together the peaked +fangs of her ample jaws, she hissed: "Hiss, at him! Hiss, at him! +Hiss!" and laughed and haw-hawed in scorn and mockery, and pressed +the Golden Pot firmly toward her, and threw out of it handfuls of +glittering earth on the Archivarius; but as it touched the nightgown +the earth changed into flowers, which rained down on the ground. +Then the lilies of the nightgown flickered and flamed up; and the +Archivarius caught these lilies blazing in sparky fire and dashed them +on the witch; she howled for agony, but still as she leapt aloft and +shook her harness of parchment the lilies went out and fell away into +ashes. + +"To her, my lad!" creaked the crone; then the black Cat darted through +the air, and plunged over the Archivarius' head toward the door; but +the gray Parrot fluttered out against him and caught him with his +crooked bill by the nape, till red fiery blood burst down over his +neck; and Serpentina's voice cried: "Saved! Saved!" Then the crone, +foaming with rage and desperation, darted out upon the Archivarius; +she threw the Golden Pot behind her, and holding up the long talons of +her skinny fists, was for clutching the Archivarius by the throat; but +he instantly doffed his nightgown, and hurled it against her. Then, +hissing, and sputtering, and bursting, shot blue flames from the +parchment leaves, and the crone rolled round in howling agony, and +strove to get fresh earth from the Pot, fresh parchment leaves from +the books, that she might stifle the blazing flames; and whenever any +earth or leaves came down on her the flames went out. But now, as +if coming from the interior of the Archivarius, there issued fiery +crackling beams, and darted on the crone. + +"Hey, hey! To it again! Salamander! Victory!" clanged the Archivarius' +voice through the chamber; and a hundred bolts whirled forth in fiery +circles round the shrieking crone. Whizzing and buzzing flew Cat +and Parrot in their furious battle; but at last the Parrot, with +his strong wing, dashed the Cat to the ground; and with his talons +transfixing and holding fast his adversary, which, in deadly agony, +uttered horrid mews and howls, he, with his sharp bill, picked out +his glowing eyes, and the burning froth spouted from them. Then thick +vapor streamed up from the spot where the crone, hurled to the ground, +was lying under the nightgown; her howling, her terrific, piercing cry +of lamentation died away in the remote distance. The smoke, which had +spread abroad with irresistible smell, cleared off; the Archivarius +picked up his nightgown, and under it lay an ugly Parsnip. + +"Honored Herr Archivarius, here, let me offer you the vanquished foe," +said the Parrot, holding out a black hair in his beak to Archivarius +Lindhorst. + +"Very well, my worthy friend," replied the Archivarius; "here lies +my vanquished foe too; be so good now as to manage what remains. This +very day, as a small douceur, you shall have six cocoanuts, and a new +pair of spectacles also, for I see the Cat has villainously broken +your glasses. + +"Yours forever, most honored friend and patron!" answered the Parrot, +much delighted; then took the Parsnip in his bill, and fluttered out +with it by the window which Archivarius Lindhorst had opened for him. + +The Archivarius now lifted the Golden Pot, and cried, with a strong +voice, "Serpentina! Serpentina!" But as the student Anselmus, joying +in the destruction of the vile beldam who had hurried him into +misfortune, cast his eyes on the Archivarius, behold, here stood once +more the high majestic form of the Spirit-prince, looking up to +him with indescribable dignity and grace. "Anselmus," said the +Spirit-prince, "not thou, but a hostile Principle, which strove +destructively to penetrate into thy nature and divide thee +against thyself, was to blame for thy unbelief. Thou hast kept thy +faithfulness; be free and happy." A bright flash quivered through the +spirit of Anselmus; the royal triphony of the crystal bells sounded +stronger and louder than he had ever heard it; his nerves and fibres +thrilled; but, swelling higher and higher, the melodious tones rang +through the room; the glass which inclosed Anselmus broke; and he +rushed into the arms of his dear and gentle Serpentina. + + + + +ELEVENTH VIGIL + + Conrector Paulmann's anger at the madness which had broken out in + his Family. How Registrator Heerbrand became Hofrat; and, in the + keenest Frost, walked about in Shoes and silk Stockings. Veronica's + Confessions. Betrothment over the steaming Soup-dish. + + +"But tell me, best Registrator, how the cursed punch last night could +so mount into our heads, and drive us to all manner of _allotria_?" +So said Conrector Paulmann, as he next morning entered his room, +which still lay full of broken sherds, and in whose midst his hapless +peruke, dissolved into its original elements, was floating in the +punch-bowl. After the student Anselmus ran out of doors, Conrector +Paulmann and Registrator Heerbrand had still kept trotting and +hobbling up and down the room, shouting like maniacs, and butting +their heads together; till Fränzchen, with much labor, carried her +vertiginous papa to bed, and Registrator Heerbrand, in the deepest +exhaustion, sank on the sofa, which Veronica had left, taking refuge +in her bedroom. Registrator Heerbrand had his blue handkerchief tied +about his head; he looked quite pale and melancholic, and moaned out: +"Ah, worthy Conrector, not the punch which Mam'sell Veronica most +admirably brewed, no! but simply that cursed student is to blame for +all the mischief. Do you not observe that he has long been _mente +caphis_? And are you not aware that madness is infectious? One fool +makes twenty; pardon me, it is an old proverb; especially when you +have drunk a glass or two, you fall into madness quite readily, and +then involuntarily you manoeuvre, and go through your exercise, just +as the crack-brained fugleman makes the motion. Would you believe it, +Conrector? I am still giddy when I think of that gray Parrot!" + +"Gray fiddlesticks!" interrupted the Conrector; "it was nothing but +Archivarius Lindhorst's little old Famulus, who had thrown a gray +cloak over him and was seeking the student Anselmus." + +"It may be," answered Registrator Heerbrand, "but, I must confess, I +am quite downcast in spirit; the whole night through there was such a +piping and organing." + +"That was I," said the Conrector, "for I snore loud." + +"Well, maybe," answered the Registrator; "but Conrector, Conrector! +Ah, not without cause did I wish to raise some cheerfulness among +us last night--But that Anselmus has spoiled all! You know not--O +Conrector, Conrector!" And with this, Registrator Heerbrand started +up, plucked the cloth from his head, embraced the Conrector, warmly +pressed his hand, and again cried, in quite heart-breaking tones: "O +Conrector, Conrector!" and, snatching his hat and staff, rushed out of +doors. + +"This Anselmus comes not over my threshold again," said Conrector +Paulmann; "for I see very well that, with this obdurate madness of +his, he robs the best people of their senses. The Registrator is +now over with it too; I have hitherto kept safe; but the Devil, who +knocked hard last night in our carousal, may get in at last and play +his tricks with me. So _Apage, Satanas_! Off with thee, Anselmus!" +Veronica had grown quite pensive; she spoke no word; only smiled now +and then very oddly, and liked best to be alone. "Also of her distress +Anselmus is the cause," said the Conrector, full of malice; "but it +is well that he does not show himself here; I know he fears me, this +Anselmus, and so he never comes." + +These concluding words Conrector Paulmann spoke aloud; then the tears +rushed into Veronica's eyes, and she said, sobbing: "Ah! how can +Anselmus come? He has long been corked up in the glass bottle." + +"How? What?" cried Conrector Paulmann. "Ah Heaven! Ah Heaven! she is +doting too, like the Registrator; the loud fit will soon come! +Ah, thou cursed, abominable, thrice-cursed Anselmus!" He ran forth +directly to Doctor Eckstein, who smiled, and again said: "Ey! Ey!" +This time, however, he prescribed nothing; but added, to the little +he had uttered, the following words, as he walked away: "Nerves! Come +round of itself. Take the air; walks; amusements; theatre; playing +_Sonntagskind, Schwestern von Prag_. Come round of itself." + +"So eloquent I have seldom seen the Doctor," thought Conrector +Paulmann; "really talkative, I declare!" + +Several days and weeks and months were gone; Anselmus had vanished; +but Registrator Heerbrand also did not make his appearance--not till +the fourth of February, when the Registrator, in a new fashionable +coat of the finest cloth, in shoes and silk stockings, notwithstanding +the keen frost, and with a large nosegay of fresh flowers in his hand, +did enter precisely at noon into the parlor of Conrector Paulmann, who +wondered not a little to see his friend so dizened. With a solemn air, +Registrator Heerbrand stepped forward to Conrector Paulmann; embraced +him with the finest elegance, and then said: "Now at last, on the +Saint's-day of your beloved and most honored Mam'sell Veronica, I will +tell you out, straightforward, what I have long had lying at my heart. +That evening, that unfortunate evening, when I put the ingredients of +that cursed punch in my pocket, I purposed imparting to you a piece of +good news, and celebrating the happy day in convivial joys. Already I +had learned that I was to be made Hofrat, for which promotion I have +now the patent, _cum nomine et sigillo Principis_, in my pocket." + +"Ah! Herr Registr--Herr Hofrat Heerbrand, I meant to say," stammered +the Conrector. + +"But it is you, most honored Conrector," continued the new Hofrat; "it +is you alone that can complete my happiness. For a long time I have in +secret loved your daughter, Mam'sell Veronica; and I can boast of many +a kind look which she has given me, evidently showing that she would +not cast me away. In one word, honored Conrector! I, Hofrat Heerbrand, +do now entreat of you the hand of your most amiable Mam'sell Veronica, +whom I, if you have nothing against it, purpose shortly to take home +as my wife." + +Conrector Paulmann, full of astonishment, clapped his hands +repeatedly, crying: "Ey, Ey, Ey! Herr Registr--Herr Hofrat, I meant +to say--who would have thought it? Well, if Veronica does really +love you, I for my share cannot object; nay, perhaps, her present +melancholy is nothing but concealed love for you, most honored Hofrat! +You know what freaks they have!" + +At this moment Veronica entered, pale and agitated as she now commonly +was. Then Hofrat Heerbrand stepped toward her; mentioned in a neat +speech her Saint's-day and handed her the odorous nosegay, along +with a little packet; out of which, when she opened it, a pair of +glittering ear-rings beamed up at her. A rapid flying blush tinted her +cheeks; her eyes sparkled in joy, and she cried: "O Heaven! These are +the very ear-rings which I wore some weeks ago, and thought so much +of." + +"How can this be, dearest Mam'sell," interrupted Hofrat Heerbrand, +somewhat alarmed and hurt, "when I bought these jewels not an hour ago +in the Schlossgasse, for current money?" + +But Veronica heeded him not; she was standing before the mirror to +witness the effect of the trinkets, which she had already suspended +in her pretty little ears. Conrector Paulmann disclosed to her, with +grave countenance and solemn tone, his friend Heerbrand's preferment +and present proposal. Veronica looked at the Hofrat with a searching +look, and said: "I have long known that you wished to marry me. Well, +be it so! I promise you my heart and hand; but I must now unfold to +you, to both of you, I mean, my father and my bridegroom, much that +is lying heavy on my heart; yes, even now, though the soup should get +cold, which I see Fränzchen is just putting on the table." + +Without waiting for the Conrector's or the Hofrat's reply, though the +words were visibly hovering on the lips of both, Veronica continued: +"You may believe me, best father, I loved Anselmus from my heart, and +when Registrator Heerbrand, who is now become Hofrat himself, assured +us that Anselmus might probably reach that position, I resolved that +he and no other should be my husband. But then it seemed as if alien +hostile beings were for snatching him away from me; I had recourse to +old Liese, who was once my nurse, but is now a wise woman, and a great +enchantress. She promised to help me and give Anselmus wholly into +my hands. We went at midnight on the Equinox to the crossing of the +roads; she conjured certain hellish spirits, and by aid of the black +Cat we manufactured a little metallic mirror, in which I, directing my +thoughts on Anselmus, had but to look in order to rule him wholly in +heart and mind. But now I heartily repent having done all this, and +here abjure all Satanic arts. The Salamander has conquered old Liese; +I heard her shrieks; but there was no help to be given; so soon as the +Parrot had eaten the Parsnip my metallic mirror broke in two with a +piercing clang." Veronica took out both the pieces of the mirror, +and a lock of hair from her work-box, and handing them to Hofrat +Heerbrand, she proceeded: "Here, take the fragments of the mirror, +dear Hofrat; throw them down, tonight, at twelve o'clock, over the +Elbe-bridge, from the place where the Cross stands; the stream is not +frozen there; the lock, however, do you wear on your faithful breast. +I again abjure all magic; and heartily wish Anselmus joy of his +good fortune, seeing he is wedded with the green Snake, who is +much prettier and richer than I. You, dear Hofrat, I will love and +reverence as becomes a true honest wife." + +"Alack! Alack!" cried Conrector Paulmann, full of sorrow; "she is +cracked, she is cracked; she can never be Frau Hofrätin; she is +cracked!" + +"Not in the least," interrupted Hofrat Heerbrand; "I know well that +Mam'sell Veronica has felt kindly toward the loutish Anselmus; and it +may be that in some fit of passion, she has had recourse to the wise +woman, who, as I perceive, can be no other than the card-caster and +coffee-pourer of the Seetor--in a word, old Rauerin. Nor can it be +denied that there are secret arts, which exert their influence on +men but too balefully; we read of such in the Ancients, and doubtless +there are still such; but as to what Mam'sell Veronica is pleased to +say about the victory of the Salamander, and the marriage of Anselmus +with the green Snake, this, in reality, I take for nothing but a +poetic allegory; a sort of poem, wherein she sings her entire farewell +to the Student." + +"Take it for what you will, best Hofrat!" cried Veronica; "perhaps for +a very stupid dream." + +"That I nowise do," replied Hofrat Heerbrand; "for I know well that +Anselmus himself is possessed by secret powers, which vex him and +drive him on to all imaginable mad freaks." + +Conrector Paulmann could stand it no longer; he broke loose: "Hold! +For the love of Heaven, hold! Are we again overtaken with the cursed +punch, or has Anselmus' madness come over us too? Herr Hofrat, what +stuff is this you are talking? I will suppose, however, that it is +love which haunts your brain; this soon comes to rights in marriage; +otherwise I should be apprehensive that you too had fallen into some +shade of madness, most honored Herr Hofrat; then what would become +of the future branches of the family, inheriting the _malum_ of their +parents? But now I give my paternal blessing to this happy union, and +permit you as bride and bridegroom to take a kiss." + +This happened forthwith; and thus before the presented soup had +grown cold, was a formal betrothment concluded. In a few weeks, Frau +Hofrätin Heerbrand was actually, as she had been in vision, sitting in +the balcony of a fine house in the Neumarkt, and looking down with a +smile on the beaux, who, passing by, turned their glasses up to her, +and said: "She is a heavenly woman, the Hofrätin Heerbrand." + + + + +TWELFTH VIGIL + + Account of the Freehold Property to which Anselmus removed, as + son-in-law of Archivarius Lindhorst; and how he lives there with + Serpentina. Conclusion. + + +How deeply did I feel, in the depth of my heart, the blessedness of +the student Anselmus, who now, indissolubly united with his gentle +Serpentina, has withdrawn to the mysterious Land of Wonders, +recognized by him as the home toward which his bosom, filled with +strange forecastings, had always longed. But in vain was all my +striving to set before thee, kind reader, those glories with which +Anselmus is encompassed, or even in the faintest degree to shadow them +forth to thee in words. Reluctantly I could not but acknowledge the +feebleness of my every expression. I felt myself enthralled amid +the paltriness of every-day life; I sickened in tormenting +dissatisfaction; I glided about like a dreamer; in brief, I fell into +that condition of the student Anselmus, which, in the Fourth Vigil, I +have endeavored to set before thee. It grieved me to the heart, when I +glanced over the Eleven Vigils, now happily accomplished, and thought +that to insert the Twelfth, the keystone of the whole, would never be +vouchsafed me. For whensoever, in the night season, I set myself to +complete the work, it was as if mischievous Spirits (they might be +relations, perhaps cousins german, of the slain witch) held a polished +glittering piece of metal before me, in which I beheld my own mean +Self, pale, overwatched, and melancholic, like Registrator Heerbrand +after his bout of punch. Then I threw down my pen, and hastened to +bed, that I might behold the happy Anselmus and the fair Serpentina, +at least in my dreams. This had lasted for several days and nights, +when at length quite unexpectedly I received a note from Archivarius +Lindhorst, in which he addressed me as follows: + +"Respected Sir--It is well known to me that you have written down, in +Eleven Vigils, the singular fortunes of my good son-in-law Anselmus, +whilom student, now poet; and are at present cudgeling your brains +very sore, that in the Twelfth and Last Vigil you may tell somewhat of +his happy life in Atlantis, where he now lives with my daughter on +the pleasant Freehold which I possess in that country. Now, +notwithstanding I much regret that hereby my own peculiar nature is +unfolded to the reading world; seeing it may, in my office as Privy +Archivarius, expose me to a thousand inconveniences; nay, in the +Collegium even give rise to the question: How far a Salamander can +justly, and with binding consequences, plight himself by oath, as a +Servant of the State, and how far, on the whole, important affairs may +be intrusted to him, since, according to Gabalis and Swedenborg, +the Spirits of the Elements are not to be trusted at +all?--notwithstanding, my best friends must now avoid my embrace; +fearing lest, in some sudden exuberance, I dart out a flash or two, +and singe their hair-curls, and Sunday frocks; notwithstanding all +this, I say, it is still my purpose to assist you in the completion of +the Work, since much good of me and of my dear married daughter (would +the other two were off my hands also!) has therein been said. Would +you write your Twelfth Vigil, therefore, then descend your cursed five +pair of stairs, leave your garret, and come over to me. In the blue +palm-tree room, which you already know, you will find fit writing +materials; and you can then, in a few words, specify to your readers +what you have seen--a better plan for you than any long-winded +description of a life which you know only by hearsay. + +With esteem, your obedient servant, + +THE SALAMANDER LINDHORST, + +P.T. Royal Privy Archivarius." + +This truly somewhat rough, yet on the whole friendly note from +Archivarius Lindhorst, gave me high pleasure. Clear enough it +seemed, indeed, that the singular manner in which the fortunes of his +son-in-law had been revealed to me, and which I, bound to silence, +must conceal even from thee, kind reader, was well known to this +peculiar old gentleman; yet he had not taken it so ill as I might +readily have apprehended. Nay, here was he offering me his helpful +hand in the completion of my work; and from this I might justly +conclude that at bottom he was not averse to have his marvelous +existence in the world of spirits thus divulged through the press. + +"It may be," thought I, "that he himself expects from this measure, +perhaps, to get his two other daughters the sooner married; for who +knows but a spark may fall in this or that young man's breast, and +kindle a longing for the green Snake; whom, on Ascension-day, under +the elder-bush, he will forthwith seek and find? From the woe which +befell Anselmus, when inclosed in the glass bottle, he will take +warning to be doubly and trebly on his guard against all doubt and +unbelief." + +Precisely at eleven o'clock I extinguished my study-lamp and glided +forth to Archivarius Lindhorst, who was already waiting for me in the +lobby. + +"Are you there, my worthy friend? Well, this is what I like, that you +have not mistaken my good intentions; do but follow me!" + +And with this he led the way through the garden, now filled with +dazzling brightness, into the azure chamber, where I observed the same +violet table at which Anselmus had been writing. + +Archivarius Lindhorst disappeared, but soon came back, carrying in his +hand a fair golden goblet out of which a high blue flame was sparkling +up. "Here," said he, "I bring you the favorite drink of your friend +the Bandmaster, Johannes Kreisler.[45] It is burning arrack, into +which I have thrown a little sugar. Sip a touch or two of it; I will +doff my nightgown, and, to amuse myself and enjoy your worthy company +while you sit looking and writing, shall just bob up and down a little +in the goblet." + +"As you please, honored Herr Archivarius," answered I: "but if I am to +ply the liqueur, you will get none." + +"Don't fear that, my good fellow," cried the Archivarius; then hastily +threw off his nightgown, mounted, to my no small amazement, into the +goblet, and vanished in the blaze. Without fear, softly blowing black +the flame, I partook of the drink; it was truly delicious! + +Stir not the emerald leaves of the palm-trees in soft sighing and +rustling, as if kissed by the breath of the morning wind? Awakened +from their sleep, they move and mysteriously whisper of the wonders +which, from the far distance, approach like tones of melodious harps! +The azure rolls from the walls, and floats like airy vapor to and +fro; but dazzling beams shoot through the perfume which, whirling +and dancing, as in jubilee of childlike sport, mounts and mounts to +immeasurable heights, and vaults over the palm-trees. But brighter and +brighter shoots beam on beam, till in bright sunshine and boundless +expanse opens the grove where I behold Anselmus. Here glowing +hyacinths, and tulips, and roses, lift their fair heads; and their +perfumes, in loveliest sound, call to the happy youth: "Wander, wander +among us, our beloved; for thou understandest us! Our perfume is the +Longing of Love; we love thee, and are thine forevermore!" The golden +rays burn in glowing tones: "We are Fire, kindled by Love. Perfume is +Longing; but Fire is Desire: and dwell we not in thy bosom? We are thy +own!" The dark bushes, the high trees, rustle and sound: "Come to +us, thou loved, thou happy one! Fire is Desire; but Hope is our cool +Shadow. Lovingly we rustle round thy head; for thou understandest us, +because Love dwells in thy breast!" The fountains and brooks murmur +and patter. "Loved one, walk not so quickly by; look into our crystal! +Thy image dwells in us, which we preserve with Love, for thou hast +understood us." In the triumphal choir, bright birds are singing: +"Hear us! Hear us! We are Joy, we are Delight, the rapture of Love!" +But longingly Anselmus turns his eyes to the Glorious Temple, which +rises behind him in the distance. The artful pillars seem trees; and +the capitals and friezes acanthus leaves, which in wondrous wreaths +and figures form splendid decorations. Anselmus walks to the Temple; +he views with inward delight the variegated marble, the steps with +their strange veins of moss. "Ah, no!" cries he, as if in the excess +of rapture, "she is not far from me now; she is near!" Then advances +Serpentina, in the fulness of beauty and grace, from the Temple; +she bears the Golden Pot, from which a bright Lily has sprung. The +nameless rapture of infinite longing glows in her bright eyes; she +looks at Anselmus, and says: "Ah! Dearest, the Lily has sent forth her +bowl; what we longed for is fulfilled; is there a happiness to equal +ours?" Anselmus clasps her with the tenderness of warmest ardor; the +Lily burns in flaming beams over his head. And louder move the trees +and bushes; clearer and gladder play the brooks; the birds, the +shining insects dance in the waves of perfume; a gay, bright rejoicing +tumult, in the air, in the water, in the earth, is holding the +festival of Love! Now rush sparkling streaks, gleaming over all the +bushes; diamonds look from the ground like shining eyes; high gushes +spurt from the wells; strange perfumes are wafted hither on sounding +wings; they are the Spirits of the Elements, who do homage to the +Lily, and proclaim the happiness of Anselmus. Then Anselmus raises his +head, as if encircled with a beamy glory. Is it looks? Is it words? +Is it song? You hear the sound: "Serpentina! Belief in thee, Love of +thee, has unfolded to my soul the inmost spirit of Nature! Thou hast +brought me the Lily, which sprung from Gold, from the primeval Force +of the earth, before Phosphorus had kindled the spark of Thought; this +Lily is Knowledge of the sacred Harmony of all Beings; and in this do +I live in highest blessedness forevermore. Yes, I, thrice happy, +have perceived what was highest; I must indeed love thee forever, O +Serpentina! Never shall the golden blossoms of the Lily grow pale; +for, like Belief and Love, Knowledge is eternal." + +For the vision, in which I had now beheld Anselmus bodily, in his +Freehold of Atlantis, I stand indebted to the arts of the Salamander; +and most fortunate was it that, when all had melted into air, I found +a paper lying on the violet table, with the foregoing statement of the +matter, written fairly and distinctly by my own hand. But now I felt +myself as if transpierced and torn in pieces by sharp sorrow. "Ah, +happy Anselmus, who hast cast away the burden of week-day life, who +in the love of thy kind Serpentina fliest with bold pinion, and now +livest in rapture and joy on thy Freehold in Atlantis! while I--poor +I!--must soon, nay, in a few moments, leave even this fair hall, which +itself is far from a Freehold in Atlantis, and again be transplanted +to my garret, where, enthralled among the pettinesses of necessitous +existence, my heart and my sight are so bedimmed with thousand +mischiefs, as with thick fog, that the fair Lily will never, never be +beheld by me." + +Then Archivarius Lindhorst patted me gently on the shoulder, and said: +"Soft, soft, my honored friend! Lament not so! Were you not even now +in Atlantis, and have you not at least a pretty little copyhold Farm +there, as the poetical possession of your inward sense? And is the +blessedness of Anselmus aught else but a Living in Poesy? Can aught +else but Poesy reveal itself as the sacred Harmony of all Beings, as +the deepest secret of Nature?" + + + + +_FRIEDRICH BARON DE LA MOTTE FOUQUÉ_ + + * * * * * + + +SELECTIONS FROM UNDINE[46] (1811) + +TRANSLATED BY F.E. BUNNETT + +CHAPTER VIII + +The Day after the wedding + + +The fresh light of the morning awoke the young married pair. Undine +hid bashfully beneath her covers while Huldbrand lay still, absorbed +in deep meditation. Wonderful and horrible dreams had disturbed +Huldbrand's rest; he had been haunted by spectres, who, grinning at +him by stealth, had tried to disguise themselves as beautiful women, +and from beautiful women they all at once assumed the faces of +dragons, and when he started up from these hideous visions the +moonlight shone pale and cold into the room; terrified he looked at +Undine on whose bosom he fell asleep and who still lay in unaltered +beauty and grace. Then he would press a light kiss upon her rosy lips +and would fall asleep again only to be awakened by new terrors. +After he had reflected on all this, now that he was fully awake, he +reproached himself for any doubt that could have led him into error +with regard to his beautiful wife. He begged her to forgive him for +the injustice he had done her, but she only held out to him her fair +hand, sighed deeply, and remained silent. But a glance of exquisite +fervor, such as he had never seen before, beamed from her eyes, +carrying with it the full assurance that Undine bore him no ill-will. +He then rose cheerfully and left her, to join his friends in the +common apartment. + +He found the three sitting round the hearth with an air of anxiety, +as if they dared not venture to speak aloud. The priest seemed to be +praying in his inmost spirit that all evil might be averted. When, +however, they saw the young husband come forth so cheerfully, the +careworn expression of their faces vanished. + +The old fisherman even began to tease the knight, but in so chaste and +modest a manner that the aged wife herself smiled good-humoredly as +she listened to them. Undine at length made her appearance. All rose +to meet her and all stood still with surprise, for the young wife +seemed so strange to them and yet the same. The priest was the first +to advance toward her, with paternal affection beaming in his face, +and, as he raised his hand to bless her, the beautiful woman sank +reverently on her knees before him. With a few humble and gracious +words she begged him to forgive her for any foolish things she might +have said the evening before, and entreated him in an agitated tone +to pray for the welfare of her soul. She then rose, kissed her +foster-parents, and thanking them for all the goodness they had shown +her, she exclaimed, "Oh, I now feel in my innermost heart, how much, +how infinitely much, you have done for me, dear, kind people!" She +could not at first desist from her caresses, but scarcely had she +perceived that the old woman was busy in preparing breakfast than she +went to the hearth, cooked and arranged the meal, and would not suffer +the good old mother to take the least trouble. + +She continued thus throughout the whole day, quiet, kind, and +attentive--at once a little matron and a tender bashful girl. The +three who had known her longest expected every moment to see some +whimsical vagary of her capricious spirit burst forth; but they waited +in vain for it. Undine remained as mild and gentle as an angel. The +holy father could not take his eyes from her, and he said repeatedly +to the bridegroom, "The goodness of heaven, sir, has intrusted a +treasure to you yesterday through me, unworthy as I am; cherish it as +you ought, and it will promote your temporal and eternal welfare." + +[Illustration: FRIEDRICH BARON DE LA MOTTE-FOUQUÉ.] + +Toward evening Undine was hanging on the knight's arm with humble +tenderness, and drew him gently out of the door where the declining +sun was shining pleasantly on the fresh grass and upon the tall +slender stems of the trees. The eyes of the young wife were moist, +as with the dew of sadness and love, and a tender and fearful secret +seemed hovering on her lips--which, however, was disclosed only by +scarcely audible sighs. She led her husband onward and onward in +silence; when he spoke she answered him only with looks, in which, +it is true, there lay no direct reply to his inquiries, but a whole +heaven of love and timid devotion. Thus they reached the edge of +the swollen forest-stream, and the knight was astonished to see it +rippling along in gentle waves, without a trace of its former wildness +and swell. "By the morning, it will be quite dry," said the beautiful +wife, in a regretful tone, "and you can then travel away wherever you +will, without anything to hinder you." + +"Not without you, my little Undine," replied the knight, laughing; +"remember, even if I wished to desert you, the church, and the +spiritual powers, and the emperor, and the empire, would interpose and +bring the fugitive back again." + +"All depends upon you, all depends upon you," whispered his wife, half +weeping and half smiling. "I think, however, nevertheless, that you +will keep me with you; I love you so heartily. Now carry me across to +that little island that lies before us. The matter shall be decided +there. I could easily indeed glide through the rippling waves, but it +is so restful in your arms, and, if you are to cast me off, I shall +have sweetly rested in them once more for the last time." Huldbrand, +full as he was of strange fear and emotion, knew not what to reply. He +took her in his arms and carried her across, remembering now for the +first time that this was the same little island from which he had +borne her back to the old fisherman on that first night. On the +farther side he put her down on the soft grass, and was on the point +of placing himself lovingly near his beautiful burden when she said, +"No, there, opposite to me! I will read my sentence in your eyes, +before your lips speak; now, listen attentively to what I will relate +to you!" And she began: + +"You must know, my loved one, that there are beings in the elements +which appear almost like you mortals, and which rarely allow +themselves to become visible to your race. Wonderful salamanders +glitter and sport in the flames; lean and malicious gnomes dwell deep +within the earth; spirits, belonging to the air, wander through the +forests; and a vast family of water spirits live in the lakes and +streams and brooks. In resounding domes of crystal, through which the +sky looks in with its sun and stars, these latter spirits find their +beautiful abode; lofty trees of coral, with blue and crimson fruits, +gleam in the gardens; they wander over the pure sand of the sea, and +among lovely variegated shells, and amid all exquisite treasures of +the old world, which the present is no longer worthy to enjoy; all +these the floods have covered with their secret veils of silver, and +the noble monuments sparkle below, stately and solemn, and bedewed by +the loving waters which allure from them many a beautiful moss-flower +and entwining cluster of sea-grass. Those, however, who dwell there, +are very fair and lovely to behold, and for the most part are more +beautiful than human beings. Many a fisherman has been so fortunate +as to surprise some tender mermaid, as she rose above the waters and +sang. He would then tell afar of her beauty, and such wonderful beings +have been given the name of Undines. You, moreover, are now actually +beholding an Undine." + +The knight tried to persuade himself that his beautiful wife was +under the spell of one of her strange humors and that she was taking +pleasure in teasing him with one of her extravagant inventions. But +repeatedly as he said this to himself, he could not believe it for a +moment; a strange shudder passed through him; unable to utter a word, +he stared at the beautiful narrator with an immovable gaze. Undine +shook her head sorrowfully, drew a deep sigh, and then proceeded. + +"Our condition would be far superior to that of you human beings--for +human beings we call ourselves, being similar to them in form and +culture--but there is one evil peculiar to us. We and our like in the +other elements vanish into dust and pass away, body and spirit, +so that not a vestige of us remains behind; and when you mortals +hereafter awake to a purer life we remain with the sand and the sparks +and the wind and the waves. Hence we have also no souls; the element +moves us and is often obedient to us while we live, though it scatters +us to dust when we die; and we are merry, without having aught to +grieve us--merry as the nightingales and little gold-fishes and other +pretty children of nature. But all beings aspire to be higher than +they are. Thus my father, who is a powerful water-prince in the +Mediterranean Sea, desired that his only daughter should become +possessed of a soul, even though she must then endure many of the +sufferings of those thus endowed. Such as we, however, can obtain a +soul only by the closest union of love with one of your human race. +I am now possessed of a soul, and my soul I owe you, my inexpressibly +beloved one, and it will ever thank you if you do not make my whole +life miserable. For what is to become of me if you avoid and reject +me? Still I would not retain you by deceit. And if you mean to reject +me do so now, and return alone to the shore. I will dive into this +brook, which is my uncle; and here in the forest, far removed from +other friends, he passes his strange and solitary life. He is, +however, powerful, and is esteemed and beloved by many great streams; +and as he brought me hither to the fisherman, a light-hearted, +laughing child, he will take me back again to my parents, a loving, +suffering, and soul-endowed woman." + +She was about to say still more, but Huldbrand embraced her with the +most heartfelt emotion and love, and bore her back again to the shore. +It was not till he reached it that he swore, amid tears and kisses, +never to forsake his sweet wife, calling himself more happy than the +Greek sculptor Pygmalion, whose beautiful statue received life from +Venus and became his loved one. In endearing confidence Undine walked +back to the cottage, leaning on his arm, and feeling now for the first +time with all her heart how little she ought to regret the forsaken +crystal palaces of her mysterious father. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +How they lived at Castle Ringstetten + + +The writer of this story, both because it moves his own heart and +because he wishes it to move that of others, begs you, dear reader, to +pardon him if he now briefly passes over a considerable space of time, +only cursorily mentioning the events that marked it. He knows well +that he might portray according to the rules of art, step by step, how +Huldbrand's heart began to turn from Undine to Bertalda; how Bertalda +more and more responded with ardent love to the young knight, and how +they both looked upon the poor wife as a mysterious being rather to +be feared than pitied; how Undine wept, and how her tears stung the +knight's heart with remorse without awakening his former love, so that +though he at times was kind and endearing to her, a cold shudder +would soon draw him from her and he would turn to his fellow-mortal, +Bertalda. All this the writer knows might be fully detailed, and +perhaps ought to have been so; but such a task would have been too +painful, for similar things have been known to him by sad experience, +and he shrinks from their shadow even in remembrance. You know +probably a like feeling, dear reader, for such is the lot of mortal +man. Happy are you if you have received rather than inflicted the +pain, for in such things it is more blessed to receive than to give. +If it be so, such recollections will bring only a feeling of sorrow +to your mind, and perhaps a tear will trickle down your cheek over +the faded flowers that once caused you such delight. But let that be +enough. We will not pierce our hearts with a thousand separate things, +but only briefly state, as I have just said, how matters were. + +Poor Undine was very sad, and the other two were not to be called +happy. Bertalda, especially, thought that she could trace the effect +of jealousy on the part of the injured wife whenever her wishes +were in any way thwarted. She had therefore habituated herself to an +imperious demeanor, to which Undine yielded in sorrowful submission, +and the now blinded Huldbrand usually encouraged this arrogant +behavior in the strongest manner. But the circumstance that most of +all disturbed the inmates of the castle was a variety of wonderful +apparitions which met Huldbrand and Bertalda in the vaulted galleries +of the castle, and which had never been heard of before as haunting +the locality. The tall white man, in whom Huldbrand recognized only +too plainly Uncle Kühleborn, and Bertalda the spectral master of the +fountain, often passed before them with a threatening aspect, and +especially before Bertalda, on so many occasions that she had several +times been made ill with terror and had frequently thought of quitting +the castle. But still she stayed there, partly because Huldbrand was +so dear to her, and she relied on her innocence, no words of love +having ever passed between them, and partly also because she knew +not whither to direct her steps. The old fisherman, on receiving the +message from the lord of Ringstetten that Bertalda was his guest, had +written a few lines in an almost illegible hand but as well as his +advanced age and long disuse would admit of. "I have now become," he +wrote, "a poor old widower, for my dear and faithful wife is dead. +However lonely I now sit in my cottage, Bertalda is better with you +than with me. Only let her do nothing to harm my beloved Undine! +She will have my curse if it be so." The last words of this letter +Bertalda flung to the winds, but she carefully retained the part +respecting her absence from her father--just as we are all wont to do +in similar circumstances. + +One day, when Huldbrand had just ridden out, Undine summoned the +domestics of the family and ordered them to bring a large stone and +carefully to cover with it the magnificent fountain which stood in the +middle of the castle-yard. The servants objected that it would oblige +them to bring water from the valley below. Undine smiled sadly. "I am +sorry, my people," she replied, "to increase your work. I would +rather myself fetch up the pitchers, but this fountain must be closed. +Believe me that it cannot be otherwise, and that it is only by so +doing that we can avoid a greater evil." + +The whole household were glad to be able to please their gentle +mistress; they made no further inquiry, but seized the enormous stone. +They were just raising it in their hands and were already poising it +over the fountain, when Bertalda came running up and called out to +them to stop, as it was from this fountain that the water was brought +which was so good for her complexion and she would never consent to +its being closed. Undine, however, although gentle as usual, was this +time more than usually firm. She told Bertalda that it was her due, as +mistress of the house, to arrange her household as she thought best, +and that, in this, she was accountable to no one but her lord and +husband. "See, oh, pray see," exclaimed Bertalda, in an angry yet +uneasy tone, "how the poor beautiful water is curling and writhing at +being shut out from the bright sunshine and from the cheerful sight +of the human face, for whose mirror it was created!" The water in the +fountain was indeed wonderfully agitated and hissing; it seemed as if +something within were struggling to free itself, but Undine only the +more earnestly urged the fulfilment of her orders. The earnestness was +scarcely needed. The servants of the castle were as happy in obeying +their gentle mistress as in opposing Bertalda's haughty defiance; and +in spite of all the rude scolding and threatening of the latter, the +stone was soon firmly lying over the opening of the fountain. Undine +leaned thoughtfully over it and wrote with her beautiful fingers on +its surface. She must, however, have had something very sharp and +corrosive in her hand, for when she turned away and the servants +drew near to examine the stone, they perceived all sorts of strange +characters upon it, which none of them had seen there before. + +Bertalda received the knight, on his return home in the evening, with +tears and complaints of Undine's conduct. He cast a serious look at +his poor wife, and she looked down in great distress; yet she said +with great composure, "My lord and husband does not reprove even a +bond-slave without a hearing, how much less, then, his wedded wife?" + +"Speak," said the knight with a gloomy countenance, "what induced you +to act so strangely?" + +"I should like to tell you when we are quite alone," sighed Undine. + +"You can tell me just as well in Bertalda's presence," was the +rejoinder. + +"Yes, if you command me," said Undine; "but command it not. Oh pray, +pray command it not!" She looked so humble, so sweet, so obedient, +that the knight's heart felt a passing gleam from better times. He +kindly placed her arm within his own and led her to his apartment, +when she began to speak as follows: + +"You already know, my beloved lord, something of my evil uncle, +Kühleborn, and you have frequently been displeased at meeting him in +the galleries of this castle. He has several times frightened Bertalda +into illness. This is because he is devoid of soul, a mere elemental +mirror of the outward world, without the power of reflecting the world +within. He sees, too, sometimes, that you are dissatisfied with me; +that I, in my childishness, am weeping at this, and that Bertalda +perhaps is at the very same moment laughing. Hence he imagines various +discrepancies in our home life, and in many ways mixes unbidden with +our circle. What is the good of my reproving him? What is the use of +my sending him angrily away? He does not believe a word I say. His +poor nature has no idea that the joys and sorrows of love have so +sweet a resemblance, and are so closely linked that no power can +separate them. Amid tears a smile shines forth, and a smile allures +tears from their secret chambers." + +She looked up at Huldbrand, smiling and weeping; and he again +experienced within his heart all the charm of his old love. She felt +this, and, pressing him more tenderly to her, she continued amid tears +of joy, "As the disturber of our peace was not to be dismissed with +words, I have been obliged to shut the door upon him. And the only +door by which he obtains access to us, is that fountain. He is at odds +with the other water-spirits in the neighborhood, counting from the +adjacent valleys, and his kingdom only recommences further off on the +Danube, into which some of his good friends direct their course. For +this reason I had the stone placed over the opening of the fountain, +and I inscribed characters upon it which cripple all my uncle's power, +so that he can now neither intrude upon you, nor upon me, nor upon +Bertalda. Human beings, it is true, can raise the stone again with +ordinary effort, in spite of the characters inscribed on it; the +inscription does not hinder them. If you wish, therefore, follow +Bertalda's desire, but, truly, she knows not what she asks! The +ill-bred Kühleborn has set his mark especially upon her; and if this +or that came to pass which he has predicted to me and which might +indeed happen without your meaning any evil--ah! dear one, even you +would then be exposed to danger!" + +Huldbrand felt deeply the generosity of his sweet wife, in her +eagerness to shut up her formidable protector while she had even been +chided for it by Bertalda. He pressed her therefore in his arms with +the utmost affection, and said with emotion, "The stone shall remain, +and all shall remain, now and ever, as you wish to have it, my sweet +little Undine." + +She caressed him with humble delight as she heard the expressions +of love so long withheld, and then at length she said, "My dearest +friend, since you are so gentle and kind today, may I venture to ask +a favor of you? See now, it is just the same with you as it is with +summer. In the height of its glory summer puts on the flaming and +thundering crown of mighty storms and assumes the air of a king over +the earth. You too sometimes let your fury rise, and your eyes flash, +and your voice is angry, and this becomes you well, though I in my +folly may sometimes weep at it. But never, I pray you, behave thus +toward me on the water, or even when we are near it. You see, my +relatives would then acquire a right over me. They would unrelentingly +tear me from you in their rage because they would imagine that one of +their race was injured, and I should be compelled all my life to dwell +below in the crystal palaces, and should never be permitted to ascend +to you again; or they would send me up to you--and that, oh God, would +be infinitely worse. No, no, my beloved friend, do not let it come to +that, however dear poor Undine be to you." He promised solemnly to do +as she desired, and husband and wife returned from the apartment, full +of happiness and affection. + +At that moment Bertalda appeared with some workmen to whom she had +already given orders, and said in the sullen tone which she had +assumed of late, "I suppose the secret conference is at an end, and +now the stone may be removed. Go out, workmen, and attend to it." +But the knight, angry at her impertinence, directed in short and very +decisive words that the stone should be left; he reproved Bertalda, +too, for her violence toward his wife. Whereupon the workmen withdrew, +smiling with secret satisfaction; while Bertalda, pale with rage, +hurried away to her rooms. + +The hour for the evening repast arrived, and Bertalda was waited for +in vain. They sent after her, but the domestic found her apartments +empty, and only brought back with him a sealed letter addressed to the +knight. He opened it with alarm, and read: "I feel with shame that +I am only a poor fisher-girl. I will expiate my fault in having +forgotten this for a moment, by returning to the miserable cottage of +my parents. Farewell to you and your beautiful wife." + +Undine was heartily distressed. She earnestly entreated Huldbrand to +hasten after their friend and bring her back again. Alas! she had no +need to urge him. His affection for Bertalda burst forth again with +vehemence. He hurried round the castle, inquiring if any one had seen +which way the beautiful fugitive had gone. He could learn nothing of +her and was already on his horse in the castle-yard, resolved to take +at a venture the road by which he had brought Bertalda hither. Just +then a page appeared, who assured him that he had met the lady on the +path to the Black Valley. Like an arrow the knight sprang through the +gate-way in the direction indicated, without hearing Undine's voice of +agony as she called to him from the window: "To the Black Valley! Oh, +not there! Huldbrand, don't go there! or, for Heaven's sake, take me +with you!" But when she perceived that all her calling was in vain, +she ordered her white palfrey to be saddled immediately and rode after +the knight without allowing any servant to accompany her. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +How Bertalda returned home with the Knight + + +The Black Valley lies deep within the mountains. What it is now called +we do not know. At that time the people of the country gave it this +appellation on account of the deep obscurity in which the low land +lay, owing to the shadows of the lofty trees, and especially firs, +that grew there. Even the brook which bubbled between the rocks wore +the same dark hue, and dashed along with none of that gladness with +which streams are wont to flow that have the blue sky immediately +above them. Now, in the growing twilight of evening, it looked +altogether wild and gloomy between the heights. The knight trotted +anxiously along the edge of the brook, fearful at one moment that +by delay he might allow the fugitive to advance too far, and, at the +next, that by too great rapidity he might overlook her in case she +were concealing herself from him. Meanwhile he had already penetrated +quite a ways into the valley, and might soon hope to overtake the +maiden if he were on the right track, but the fear that this might not +be the case made his heart beat with anxiety. Where would the tender +Bertalda tarry through the stormy night, which was so fearful in the +valley, should he fail to find her? At length he saw something white +gleaming through the branches on the slope of the mountain. He +thought he recognized Bertalda's dress, and turned his course in that +direction. But his horse refused to go forward; it reared impatiently; +and its master, unwilling to lose a moment, and seeing moreover that +the copse was impassable on horseback, dismounted; then, fastening his +snorting steed to an elm-tree, he worked his way cautiously through +the bushes. The branches sprinkled his forehead and cheeks with the +cold drops of the evening dew; a distant roll of thunder was heard +murmuring from the other side of the mountains; everything looked so +strange that he began to feel a dread of the white figure which now +lay only a short distance from him on the ground. Still he could +plainly see that it was a woman, either asleep or in a swoon, and that +she was attired in long white garments such as Bertalda had worn +on that day. He stepped close up to her, made a rustling with the +branches, and let his sword clatter, but she moved not. "Bertalda!" +he exclaimed, at first in a low voice, and then louder and louder--but +still she heard not. At last, when he uttered the dear name with a +more powerful effort, a hollow echo from the mountain-caverns of the +valley indistinctly reverberated "Bertalda!" but still the sleeper +woke not. He bent down over her; the gloom of the valley and the +obscurity of approaching night would not allow him to distinguish her +features. + +Just as he was stooping closer over her with a feeling of painful +doubt, a flash of lightning shot across the valley, he saw before him +a frightfully distorted countenance, and a hollow voice exclaimed, +"Give me a kiss, you enamoured swain!" Huldbrand sprang up with a +cry of horror, and the hideous figure rose with him. "Go home!" it +murmured; "wizards are on the watch. Go home, or I will have you!" and +it stretched out its long white arms toward him. + +"Malicious Kühleborn!" cried the knight, recovering himself. "Hey, +'tis you, you goblin? There, take your kiss!" And he furiously hurled +his sword at the figure. But it vanished like vapor, and a gush of +water which wetted him through left the knight in no doubt as to the +foe with whom he had been engaged. "He wishes to frighten me back from +Bertalda," said he aloud to himself; "he thinks to terrify me with his +foolish tricks, and to make me give up the poor distressed girl to him +so that he can wreak his vengeance on her. But he shall not do +that, weak spirit of the elements as he is. No powerless phantom +may understand what a human heart can do when its best energies are +aroused." He felt the truth of his words, and that the very expression +of them had inspired his heart with fresh courage. + +It seemed too as if fortune were on his side, for he had not reached +his fastened horse when he distinctly heard Bertalda's plaintive voice +not far distant, and could catch her weeping accents through the ever +increasing tumult of the thunder and tempest. He hurried swiftly +in the direction of the sound, and found the trembling girl just +attempting to climb the steep in order to escape in any way from the +dreadful gloom of the valley. He stepped, however, lovingly in her +path, and, bold and proud as her resolve had been before, she now felt +only too keenly the delight that the friend whom she so passionately +loved should rescue her from this frightful solitude, and that the +joyous life in the castle should be again open to her. She followed +almost unresisting, but so exhausted with fatigue that the knight +was glad to lead her to his horse, which he now hastily unfastened in +order to lift the fair fugitive upon it; and then, cautiously holding +the reins, he hoped to proceed through the uncertain shades of the +valley. + +But the horse had become quite unmanageable from the wild apparition +of Kühleborn. Even the knight would have had difficulty in mounting +the rearing and snorting animal, but to place the trembling Bertalda +on its back was perfectly impossible. They determined therefore to +return home on foot. Leading the horse after him by the bridle, the +knight supported the tottering girl with his other hand. Bertalda +exerted all her strength to pass quickly through the fearful valley, +but weariness weighed her down like lead and every limb trembled, +partly from the terror she had endured when Kühleborn had pursued her, +and partly from her continued alarm at the howling of the storm and +the pealing of the thunder through the wooded mountain. + +At last she slid from the supporting arm of her protector, and, +sinking down on the moss, exclaimed, "Let me lie here, my noble lord; +I suffer the punishment due to my folly, and I must now perish here +anyhow through weariness and dread." + +"No, sweet friend, I will never leave you!" cried Huldbrand, vainly +endeavoring to restrain his furious steed; for, worse than before, it +now began to foam and rear with excitement, till at last the knight +was glad to keep the animal at a sufficient distance from the +exhausted maiden to save her from increasing fear. But scarcely had he +withdrawn a few paces with the wild steed than she began to call after +him in the most pitiful manner, believing that he was really going to +leave her in this horrible wilderness. He was utterly at a loss what +course to take. Gladly would he have given the excited beast its +liberty and have allowed it to rush away into the night and spend +its fury, had he not feared that in this narrow defile it might come +thundering with its iron-shod hoofs over the very spot where Bertalda +lay. + +In the midst of this extreme perplexity and distress he heard with +delight the sound of a vehicle driving slowly down the stony road +behind them. He called out for help, and a man's voice replied, +promising assistance, but bidding him have patience; and, soon after, +two gray horses appeared through the bushes, and beside them the +driver in the white smock of a carter; a great white linen cloth was +next visible, covering the goods apparently contained in the wagon. At +a loud shout from their master the obedient horses halted. The driver +then came toward the knight and helped him restrain his foaming +animal. "I see well," said he, "what ails the beast. When I first +traveled this way my horses acted no better. The fact is, there is +an evil water-spirit haunting the place, and he takes delight in +this sort of mischief. But I have learned a charm; if you will let me +whisper it in your horse's ear he will stand at once just as quiet as +my gray beasts are doing there." + +"Try your luck then, only help us quickly!" exclaimed the impatient +knight. + +The wagoner then drew down the head of the rearing charger close to +his own, and whispered something in his ear. In a moment the animal +stood still and quiet, and his quick panting and reeking condition +were all that remained of his previous unmanageableness. Huldbrand had +no time to inquire how all this had been effected. He agreed with the +carter that he should take Bertalda on his wagon, where, as the man +assured him, there was a quantity of soft cotton bales upon which +she could be conveyed to Castle Ringstetten, and the knight was to +accompany them on horseback. But the horse appeared too much exhausted +by its past fury to be able to carry its master so far, so the Carter +persuaded Huldbrand to get into the wagon with Bertalda. The horse +could be tethered on behind. "We are going down hill," said he, "and +that will make it light for my gray beasts." The knight accepted +the offer and entered the wagon with Bertalda; the horse followed +patiently behind, and the wagoner, steady and attentive, walked by the +side. + +In the stillness of the night, as its darkness deepened and the +subsiding tempest sounded more and more remote, encouraged by +the sense of security and their fortunate escape a confidential +conversation arose between Huldbrand and Bertalda. With flattering +words he reproached her for her daring flight; she excused herself +with humility and emotion, and from every word she said a gleam shone +forth which disclosed distinctly to the lover that the beloved was +his. The knight felt the sense of her words far more than he regarded +their meaning, and it was the sense alone to which he replied. +Presently the wagoner suddenly shouted with a loud voice. "Up, my +grays, up with your feet, keep together! Remember who you are!" The +knight leaned out of the wagon and saw that the horses were stepping +into the midst of a foaming stream or were already almost swimming, +while the wheels of the wagon were rushing round and gleaming like +mill-wheels, and the wagoner had climbed up in front in consequence of +the increasing waters. + +"What sort of a road is this? It goes into the very middle of the +stream," cried Huldbrand to his guide. + +"Not at all, sir," returned the other laughing, "it is just the +reverse; the stream goes into the very middle of our road. Look round +and see how every thing is covered by the water." + +The whole valley indeed was suddenly filled with the surging flood, +that visibly increased. "It is Kühleborn, the evil water-spirit, who +wishes to drown us!" exclaimed the knight. "Have you no charm against +him, my friend?" + +"I know indeed of one," returned the wagoner, "but I cannot and may +not use it until you know who I am." + +"Is this a time for riddles?" cried the knight. "The flood is ever +rising higher, and what does it matter to me to know who you are?" + +"It does matter to you, though," said the wagoner, "for I am +Kühleborn." So saying, he thrust his distorted face into the wagon +with a grin, but the wagon was a wagon no longer, the horses were not +horses--all was transformed to foam and vanished in the hissing waves, +and even the wagoner himself, rising as a gigantic billow, drew down +the vainly struggling horse beneath the waters, and then, swelling +higher and higher, swept over the heads of the floating pair, like +some liquid tower, threatening to bury them irrecoverably. + +Just then the soft voice of Undine sounded through the uproar, the +moon emerged from the clouds, and by its light Undine was seen on +the heights above the valley. She rebuked, she threatened the floods +below; the menacing tower-like wave vanished, muttering and murmuring, +the waters flowed gently away in the moonlight, and, like a white +dove, Undine flew down from the height, seized the knight and +Bertalda, and bore them with her to a fresh, green, turfy spot on the +hill, where with choice refreshing restoratives she dispelled their +terrors and weariness; then she assisted Bertalda to mount the white +palfrey, on which she had herself ridden here, and thus all three +returned to Castle Ringstetten. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +The Journey to Vienna + + +After this last adventure they lived quietly and happily at the +castle. The knight more and more clearly perceived the heavenly +goodness of his wife, which had been so nobly exhibited by her pursuit +and her rescue in the Black Valley, where Kühleborn's power again +commenced; Undine herself felt that peace and security which is never +lacking to a mind so long as it is distinctly conscious of being on +the right path, and, besides, in the newly-awakened love and esteem of +her husband many a gleam of hope and joy shone upon her. Bertalda, on +the other hand, showed herself grateful, humble, and timid, without +regarding her conduct as anything meritorious. Whenever Huldbrand or +Undine were about to give her any explanation regarding the covering +of the fountain or the adventure in the Black Valley, she would +earnestly entreat them to spare her the recital, as she felt too much +shame at the recollection of the fountain and too much fear at the +remembrance of the Black Valley. She learned therefore nothing further +of either; and for what end was such knowledge necessary? Peace and +joy had visibly taken up their abode at Castle Ringstetten. They felt +secure on this point, and imagined that life could now produce nothing +but pleasant flowers and fruits. + +In this happy condition of things winter had come and passed away, and +spring with its fresh green shoots and its blue sky was gladdening +the joyous inmates of the castle. Spring was in harmony with them, +and they with spring; what wonder then that its storks and swallows +inspired them also with a desire to travel? One day when they were +taking a pleasant walk to one of the sources of the Danube, Huldbrand +spoke of the magnificence of the noble river, how it widened as it +flowed through countries fertilized by its waters, how the charming +city of Vienna shone forth on its banks, and how with every step of +its course it increased in power and loveliness. "It must be glorious +to go down the river as far as Vienna!" exclaimed Bertalda, but +immediately relapsing into her present modesty and humility she paused +and blushed deeply. + +This touched Undine deeply, and with the liveliest desire to give +pleasure to her friend she asked, "What hinders us from starting on +the little voyage?" Bertalda exhibited the greatest delight, and both +she and Undine began at once to picture in the brightest colors the +tour of the Danube. Huldbrand also gladly agreed to the prospect; only +he once whispered anxiously in Undine's ear, "But Kühleborn becomes +possessed of his power again out there!" + +"Let him come," she replied with a smile; "I shall be there, and he +ventures upon none of his mischief before me." The last impediment was +thus removed; they prepared for the journey, and soon after set out +upon it with fresh spirits and the brightest hopes. + +But wonder not, O man, if events always turn out different from what +we have intended! That malicious power, lurking for our destruction, +gladly lulls its chosen victim to sleep with sweet songs and golden +fairy tales; while on the other hand the rescuing messenger from +Heaven often knocks sharply and alarmingly at our door. + +During the first few days of their voyage down the Danube they were +extremely happy. Everything grew more and more beautiful, as they +sailed further and further down the proudly flowing stream. But in a +region, otherwise so pleasant, and in the enjoyment of which they had +promised themselves the purest delight, the ungovernable Kühleborn +began, undisguisedly, to exhibit his power, which started again at +this point. This was indeed manifested in mere teasing tricks, for +Undine often rebuked the agitated waves or the contrary winds, and +then the violence of the enemy would be immediately submissive; but +again the attacks would be renewed, and again Undine's reproofs +would become necessary, so that the pleasure of the little party was +completely destroyed. The boatmen too were continually whispering to +one another in dismay and looking with distrust at the three strangers +whose servants even began more and more to forebode something uncanny +and to watch their masters with suspicious glances. Huldbrand often +said to himself, "This comes from like not being linked with like, +from a man uniting himself with a mermaid!" Excusing himself, as we +all love to do, he would often think indeed as he said this, "I did +not really know that she was a sea-maiden. Mine is the misfortune that +every step I take is disturbed and haunted by the wild caprices of her +race; but mine is not the guilt." By such thoughts as these he felt +himself in some measure strengthened, but, on the other hand, he felt +increasing ill-humor and almost animosity toward Undine. He would look +at her with an expression of anger, the meaning of which the poor +wife understood well. Wearied with this exhibition of displeasure and +exhausted by the constant effort to frustrate Kühleborn's artifices, +she sank one evening into a deep slumber, rocked soothingly by the +softly gliding bark. + +Scarcely, however, had she closed her eyes when every one in the +vessel imagined he saw, in whatever direction he turned, a most +horrible human head; it rose out of the waves, not like that of a +person swimming, but perfectly perpendicular as if invisibly supported +upright on the watery surface and floating along in the same course +with the bark. Each wanted to point out to the other the cause of his +alarm, but each found the same expression of horror depicted on the +face of his neighbor, only that his hands and eyes were directed to a +different point where the monster, half laughing and half threatening, +rose before him. When, however, they all wished to make one another +understand what each saw, and all were crying out, "Look there--! +No--there!" the horrible heads all appeared simultaneously to their +view, and the whole river around the vessel swarmed with the most +hideous apparitions. The universal cry raised at the sight awoke +Undine. As she opened her eyes the wild crowd of distorted visages +disappeared. But Huldbrand was indignant at such unsightly jugglery. +He would have burst forth in uncontrolled imprecations had not Undine +said to him with a humble manner and a softly imploring tone, "For +God's sake, my husband, we are on the water; do not be angry with me +now." The knight was silent, and sat down absorbed in reverie. Undine +whispered in his ear, "Would it not be better, my love, if we gave up +this foolish journey and returned to Castle Ringstetten in peace?" + +But Huldbrand murmured moodily, "So I must be a prisoner in my own +castle and be able to breathe only so long as the fountain is closed! +I would your mad kindred--" Undine lovingly pressed her fair hand upon +his lips. He paused, pondering in silence over much that Undine had +before said to him. + +Bertalda had meanwhile given herself up to a variety of strange +thoughts. She knew a good deal of Undine's origin, and yet not the +whole, and the fearful Kühleborn especially had remained to her a +terrible but wholly unrevealed mystery. She had indeed never even +heard his name. Musing on these strange things, she unclasped, +scarcely conscious of the act; a gold necklace, which Huldbrand had +lately purchased for her of a traveling trader; half dreamingly she +drew it along the surface of the water, enjoying the light glimmer +it cast upon the evening-tinted stream. Suddenly a huge hand was +stretched out of the Danube, seizing the necklace and vanishing with +it beneath the waters. Bertalda screamed aloud, and a scornful laugh +resounded from the depths of the stream. The knight could now restrain +his anger no longer. Starting up, he inveighed against the river; he +cursed all who ventured to intrude upon his family and his life, and +challenged them, be they spirits or sirens, to show themselves before +his avenging sword. + +Bertalda wept meanwhile for her lost ornament, which was so precious +to her, and her tears added fuel to the flame of the knight's anger, +while Undine held her hand over the side of the vessel, dipping it +into the water, softly murmuring to herself, and only now and then +interrupting her strange mysterious whisper, as she entreated her +husband, "My dearly loved one, do not scold me here; reprove others +if you will, but not me here. You know why!" And indeed, he restrained +the words of anger that were trembling on his tongue. + +Presently in her wet hand which she had been holding under the waves +she brought up a beautiful coral necklace of so much brilliancy that +the eyes of all were dazzled by it. "Take this," said she, holding it +out kindly to Bertalda; "I have ordered this to be brought for you as +a compensation, and don't be grieved any more, my poor child." + +But the knight sprang between them. He tore the beautiful ornament +from Undine's hand, hurled it again into the river, exclaiming in +passionate rage, "Have you then still a connection with them? In the +name of all the witches, remain among them with your presents and +leave us mortals in peace, you sorceress!" Poor Undine gazed at him +with fixed but tearful eyes, her hand still stretched out as when she +had offered her beautiful present so lovingly to Bertalda. She then +began to weep more and more violently, like a dear innocent child, +bitterly afflicted. At last, wearied out, she said: "Alas, sweet +friend, alas! farewell! They shall do you no harm; only remain true, +so that I may be able to keep them from you. I must, alas, go away; I +must go hence at this early stage of life. Oh woe, woe! What have you +done! Oh woe, woe!" + +She vanished over the side of the vessel. Whether she plunged into the +stream or flowed away with it, they knew not; her disappearance was +like both and neither. Soon, however, she was completely lost sight of +in the Danube; only a few little waves kept whispering, as if sobbing, +round the boat, and they almost seemed to be saying: "Oh woe, woe! Oh, +remain true! Oh, woe!" + +Huldbrand lay on the deck of the vessel, bathed in hot tears, and a +deep swoon presently cast its veil of forgetfulness over the unhappy +man. + + + + +_WILHELM HAUFF_ + + * * * * * + + CAVALRYMAN'S MORNING SONG[47] (1826) + + + Crimson morn, + Shalt thou light me o'er Death's bourn? + Soon will ring the trumpet's call; + Then may I be marked to fall, + I and many a comrade brave! + Scarce enjoyed, + Pleasure drops into the void. + Yesterday on champing stallion; + Picked today for Death's battalion; + Couched tomorrow in the grave! + + Ah! how soon + Fleeth grace and beauty's noon! + Hast thou pride in cheeks aglow, + Whereon cream and carmine flow? + Ah! the loveliest rose turns sere! + Therefore still + I respond to God's high will. + To the last stern fight I'll fit me; + If to Death I must submit me, + Dies a dauntless cavalier! + + * * * * * + + THE SENTINEL[48] (1827) + + + Lonely at night my watch I keep, + While all the world is hush'd in sleep. + Then tow'rd my home my thoughts will rove; + I think upon my distant love. + +[Illustration: WILHELM HAUFF] + + When to the wars I march'd away, + My hat she deck'd with ribbons gay; + She fondly press'd me to her heart, + And wept to think that we must part. + +[Illustration: THE SENTINAL] + + Truly she loves me, I am sure, + So ev'ry hardship I endure; + My heart beats warm, though cold's the night; + Her image makes the darkness bright. + + Now by the twinkling taper's gleam, + Her bed she seeks, of me to dream, + But ere she sleeps she kneels to pray + For one who loves her far away. + + For me those tears thou needst not shed; + No danger fills my heart with dread; + The pow'rs who dwell in heav'n above + Are ever watchful o'er thy love. + + The bell peals forth from yon watch-tower; + The guard it changes at this hour. + Sleep well! sleep well! my heart's with thee; + And in your dreams remember me. + + + + +FRIEDRICH RÜCKERT + + * * * * * + + BARBAROSSA[49] (Between 1814 and 1817) + + + The ancient Barbarossa, + Friedrich, the Kaiser great, + Within the castle-cavern + Sits in enchanted state. + + He did not die; but ever + Waits in the chamber deep, + Where hidden under the castle + He sat himself to sleep. + + The splendor of the Empire + He took with him away, + And back to earth will bring it + When dawns the promised day. + + The chair is ivory purest + Whereof he makes his bed; + The table is of marble + Whereon he props his head. + + His beard, not flax, but burning + With fierce and fiery glow, + Right through the marble table + Beneath his chair does grow. + + He nods in dreams and winketh + With dull, half-open eyes, + And once a page he beckons beckons-- + A page that standeth by. + +[Illustration: FRIEDRICH RÜCKERT] + + He bids the boy in slumber + "O dwarf, go up this hour, + And see if still the ravens + Are flying round the tower; + + And if the ancient ravens + Still wheel above us here, + Then must I sleep enchanted + For many a hundred year." + + * * * * * + + FROM MY CHILDHOOD DAYS[50] (1817, 1818) + + + From my childhood days, from my childhood days, + Rings an old song's plaintive tone-- + Oh, how long the ways, oh, how long the ways + I since have gone! + + What the swallow sang, what the swallow sang, + In spring or in autumn warm-- + Do its echoes hang, do its echoes hang + About the farm? + + "When I went away, when I went away, + Full coffers and chests were there; + When I came today, when I came today, + All, all was bare!" + + Childish lips so wise, childish lips so wise, + With a lore as rich as gold, + Knowing all birds' cries, knowing all birds' cries, + Like the sage of old! + + Ah, the dear old place--ah, the dear old place * * * + May its sweet consoling gleam + Shine upon my face, shine upon my face, + Once in a dream! + + When I went away, when I went away, + Full of joy the world lay there; + When I came today, when I came today, + All, all was bare. + + Still the swallows come, still the swallows come, + And the empty chest is filled-- + But this longing dumb, but this longing dumb + Shall ne'er be stilled. + + Nay, no swallow brings, nay, no swallow brings + Thee again where thou wast before-- + Though the swallow sings, though the swallow sings, + Still as of yore. + + "When I went away, when I went away, + Full coffers and chests were there; + When I came today, when I came today, + All, all was bare!" + + * * * * * + + THE SPRING OF LOVE[51] (1821) + + + Dearest, thy discourses steal + From my bosom's deep, my heart + How can I from thee conceal + My delight, my sorrow's smart? + + Dearest, when I hear thy lyre + From its chains my soul is free. + To the holy angel quire + From the earth, O let us flee! + +[Illustration: MEMORIES OF YOUTH] + + Dearest, how thy music's charms + Waft me dancing through the sky! + Let me round thee clasp my arms, + Lest in glory I should die! + + Dearest, sunny wreaths I wear, + Twined around me by thy lay. + For thy garlands, rich and rare, + O how can I thank thee? Say! + + Like the angels I would be + Without mortal frame, + Whose sweet converse is like thought, + Sounding with acclaim; + + Or like flowers in the dale; + Like the stars that glow, + Whose love-song's a beam, whose words + Like sweet odors flow; + + Or like to the breeze of morn, + Waving round its rose, + In love's dallying caress + Melting as it blows. + + But the love-lorn nightingale + Melteth not away; + She doth but with longing tones + Chant her plaintive lay. + + I am, too, a nightingale, + Songless though I sing; + 'Tis my pen that speaks, though ne'er + In the ear it ring. + + Beaming images of thought + Doth the pen portray; + But without thy gentle smile + Lifeless e'er are they. + + As thy look falls on the leaf, + It begins to sing, + And the prize that's due to love + In her ear doth ring. + + Like a Memmon's statue now + Every letter seems, + Which in music wakes, when kissed + By the morning's beams. + + * * * * * + + "HE CAME TO MEET ME"[52] (1821) + + + He came to meet me + In rain and thunder; + My heart 'gan beating + In timid wonder. + Could I guess whither + Thenceforth together + Our path should run, so long asunder? + + He came to meet me + In rain and thunder, + With guile to cheat me-- + My heart to plunder. + Was't mine he captured? + Or his I raptured? + Half-way both met, in bliss and wonder! + + He came to meet me + In rain and thunder; + Spring-blessings greet me + Spring-blossoms under. + What though he leave me? + No partings grieve me-- + No path can lead our hearts asunder. + + * * * * * + THE INVITATION[53] (1821) + + + Thou, thou art rest + And peace of soul-- + Thou woundst the breast + And makst it whole. + + To thee I vow + 'Mid joy or pain + My heart, where thou + Mayst aye remain. + + Then enter free, + And bar the door + To all but thee + Forevermore. + + All other woes + Thy charms shall lull; + Of sweet repose + This heart be full. + + My worshipping eyes + Thy presence bright + Shall still suffice, + Their only light. + + * * * * * + + MURMUR NOT[54] + + + Murmur not and say thou art in fetters holden, + Murmur not that thou earth's heavy yoke must bear. + Say not that a prison is this world so golden-- + 'Tis thy murmurs only set its harsh walls there. + + Question not how shall this riddle find its reading; + It will solve itself full soon without thine aid. + Say not love hath turned his back, and left thee bleeding-- + Whom hath love deserted, hast thou heard it said? + + If death tries to fright thee, fear not beyond measure; + He will flee from those who boldly face his frown. + Hunt not thou the fleeting deer of worldly pleasure-- + Lion it will turn, and hunt the hunter down. + Chain thyself no longer, heart, to any treasure; + Then thou shalt not say thou art into fetters thrown. + + * * * * * + + A PARABLE[55] (1822) + + + In Syria walked a man one day + And led a camel on the way. + A sudden wildness seized the beast, + And as they strove its rage increased. + So fearsome grew its savagery + That for his life the man must flee. + And as he ran, he spied a cave + That one last chance of safety gave. + He heard the snorting beast behind + Come nearer--with distracted mind + Leaped where the cooling fountain sprang, + Yet not to fall, but catch and hang; + By lucky hap a bramble wild + Grew where the o'erhanging rocks were piled. + He saved himself by this alone, + And did his hapless state bemoan. + He looked above, and there was yet + Too close the furious camel's threat + That still of fearful rage was full. + He dropped his eyes toward the pool, + And saw within the shadows dim + A dragon's jaws agape for him-- + A still more fierce and dangerous foe + If he should slip and fall below. + So, hanging midway of the two, + He spied a cause of terror new: + Where to the rock's deep crevice clung + The slender root on which he swung, + A little pair of mice he spied, + A black and white one side by side-- + First one and then the other saw + The slender stem alternate gnaw. + They gnawed and bit with ceaseless toil, + And from the roots they tossed the soil. + As down it ran in trickling stream, + The dragon's eyes shot forth a gleam + Of hungry expectation, gazed + Where o'er him still the man was raised, + To see how soon the bush would fall, + The burden that it bore, and all. + That man in utmost fear and dread + Surrounded, threatened, hard bested, + In such a state of dire suspense + Looked vainly round for some defense. + And as he cast his bloodshot eye + First here, then there, saw hanging nigh + A branch with berries ripe and red; + Then longing mastered all his dread; + No more the camel's rage he saw, + Nor yet the lurking dragon's maw, + Nor malice of the gnawing mice, + When once the berries caught his eyes. + The furious beast might rage above, + The dragon watch his every move, + The mice gnaw on--naught heeded he, + But seized the berries greedily-- + In pleasing of his appetite + The furious beast forgotten quite. + + You ask, "What man could ever yet, + So foolish, all his fears forget?" + Then know, my friend, that man are you-- + And see the meaning plain to view. + The dragon in the pool beneath + Sets forth the yawning jaws of death; + The beast from which you helpless flee + Is life and all its misery. + There you must hang 'twixt life and death + While in this world you draw your breath. + The mice, whose pitiless gnawing teeth + Will let you to the pool beneath + Fall down, a hopeless castaway, + Are but the change of night and day. + The black one gnaws concealed from sight + Till comes again the morning light; + From dawn until the eve is gray, + Ceaseless the white one gnaws away. + And, 'midst this dreadful choice of ills, + Pleasure of sense your spirit fills + Till you forget the terrors grim + That wait to tear you limb from limb, + The gnawing mice of day and night, + And pay no heed to aught in sight + Except to fill your mouth with fruit + That in the grave-clefts has its root. + + * * * * * + + EVENING SONG[56] (1823) + + + I stood on the mountain summit, + At the hour when the sun did set; + I mark'd how it hung o'er the woodland + The evening's golden net. + + And, with the dew descending, + A peace on the earth there fell-- + And nature lay hushed in quiet, + At the voice of the evening bell. + + I said, "O heart, consider + What silence all things keep, + And with each child of the meadow + Prepare thyself to sleep! + + "For every flower is closing + In silence its little eye; + And every wave in the brooklet + More softly murmureth by. + + "The weary caterpillar + Hath nestled beneath the weeds; + All wet with dew now slumbers + The dragon-fly in the reeds. + + "The golden beetle hath laid him + In a rose-leaf cradle to rock; + Now went to their nightly shelter + The shepherd and his flock. + + "The lark from on high is seeking + In the moistened grass her nest; + The hart and the hind have laid them + In their woodland haunt to rest. + + "And whoso owneth a cottage + To slumber hath laid him down; + And he that roams among strangers + In dreams shall behold his own." + + And now doth a yearning seize me, + At this hour of peace and love, + That I cannot reach the dwelling, + The home that is mine, above. + + * * * * * + + CHIDHER[57] (1824) + + + Chidher, the ever youthful, told: + I passed a city, bright to see; + A man was culling fruits of gold, + I asked him how old this town might be. + He answered, culling as before + "This town stood ever in days of yore, + And will stand on forevermore!" + Five hundred years from yonder day + I passed again the selfsame way, + + And of the town I found no trace; + A shepherd blew on a reed instead; + His herd was grazing on the place. + "How long," I asked, "is the city dead?" + He answered, blowing as before + "The new crop grows the old one o'er, + This was my pasture evermore!" + Five hundred years from yonder day + I passed again the selfsame way. + + A sea I found, the tide was full, + A sailor emptied nets with cheer; + And when he rested from his pull, + I asked how long that sea was here. + Then laughed he with a hearty roar + "As long as waves have washed this shore + They fished here ever in days of yore." + Five hundred years from yonder day + I passed again the selfsame way. + + I found a forest settlement, + And o'er his axe, a tree to fell, + I saw a man in labor bent. + How old this wood I bade him tell. + "'Tis everlasting, long before + I lived it stood in days of yore," + He quoth; "and shall grow evermore." + Five hundred years from yonder day + I passed again the selfsame way. + + I saw a town; the market-square + Was swarming with a noisy throng. + "How long," I asked, "has this town been there? + Where are wood and sea and shepherd's song?" + They cried, nor heard among the roar + "This town was ever so before, + And so will live forevermore!" + "Five hundred years from yonder day + I want to pass the selfsame way." + + * * * * * + + AT FORTY YEARS[58] (1832) + + + When for forty years we've climbed the rugged mountain, + We stop and backward gaze; + Yonder still we see our childhood's peaceful fountain, + And youth exulting strays. + + One more glance behind, and then, new strength acquiring, + Staff grasped, no longer stay; + See, a further slope, a long one, still aspiring + Ere downward turns the way! + + Take a brave long breath and toward the summit hie thee-- + The goal shall draw thee on; + When thou think'st it least, the destined end is nigh thee-- + Sudden, the journey's done! + + * * * * * + + BEFORE THE DOORS[59] + + + I went to knock at Riches' door; + They threw me a farthing the threshold o'er. + + To the door of Love did I then repair-- + But fifteen others already were there. + + To Honor's castle I took my flight-- + They opened to none but to belted knight. + + The house of Labor I sought to win-- + But I heard a wailing sound within. + + To the house of Content I sought the way-- + But none could tell me where it lay. + + One quiet house I yet could name, + Where last of all, I'll admittance claim; + + Many the guests that have knocked before, + But still--in the grave--there's room for more. + +[Illustration: AUGUST GRAF VON PLATEN-HALLERMUND] + + + + + +_AUGUST VON PLATEN-HALLERMUND_ + + * * * * * + + THE PILGRIM BEFORE ST. JUST'S[60] (1819) + + + 'Tis night, and tempests whistle o'er the moor; + Oh, Spanish father, ope the door! + Deny me not the little boon I crave, + Thine order's vesture, and a grave! + Grant me a cell within thy convent-shrine-- + Half of this world, and more, was mine; + The head that to the tonsure now stoops down + Was circled once by many a crown; + The shoulders fretted now with shirt of hair + Did once the imperial ermine wear. + Now am I as the dead, e'er death is come, + And sink in ruins like old Rome. + + * * * * * + + THE GRAVE OF ALARIC[61] (1820) + + + On Busento's grassy banks a muffled chorus echoes nightly, + While the swirling eddies answer and the wavelets ripple lightly. + + Up and down the river, shades of Gothic warriors watch are keeping, + For they mourn their people's hero, Alaric, with sobs of weeping. + + All too soon and far from home and kindred here to rest they laid him, + While in youthful beauty still his flowing golden curls arrayed him. + + And along the river's bank a thousand hands with eager striving + Labored long, another channel for Busento's tide contriving. + + Then a cavern deep they hollowed in the river-bed depleted, + Placed therein the dead king, clad in proof, upon his charger seated. + + O'er him and his proud array the earth they filled, and covered loosely, + So that on their hero's grave the water-plants would grow profusely. + + And again the course they altered of Busento's waters troubled; + In its ancient channel rushed the current--foamed, and hissed, and bubbled. + + And the Goths in chorus chanted: "Hero, sleep! Tiny fame immortal + Roman greed shall ne'er insult, nor break thy tomb's most sacred portal!" + + Thus they sang, and paeans sounded high above the fight's commotion; + Onward roll, Busento's waves, and bear them to the farthest ocean! + + * * * * * + + REMORSE[62] (1820) + + + How I started up in the night, in the night, + Drawn on without rest or reprieval! + The streets with their watchmen were lost to my sight, + As I wandered so light + In the night, in the night, + Through the gate with the arch medieval. + +[Illustration: THE MORNING HOUR] + + The mill-brook rushed from its rocky height; + I leaned o'er the bridge in my yearning; + Deep under me watched I the waves in their flight, + As they glided so light + In the night, in the night, + Yet backward not one was returning. + + O'erhead were revolving, so countless and bright, + The stars in melodious existence; + And with them the moon, more serenely bedight; + They sparkled so light + In the night, in the night, + Through the magical, measureless distance. + + And upward I gazed in the night, in the night, + And again on the waves in their fleeting; + Ah woe! thou hast wasted thy days in delight; + Now silence, thou light, + In the night, in the night, + The remorse in thy heart that is beating. + + * * * * * + + WOULD I WERE FREE AS ARE MY DREAMS[63] (1822) + + + Would I were free as are my dreams, + Sequestered from the garish crowd + To glide by banks of quiet streams + Cooled by the shadow-drifting cloud! + + Free to shake off this weary weight + Of human sin, and rest instead + On nature's heart inviolate-- + All summer singing o'er my head! + + There would I never disembark, + Nay, only graze the flowery shore + To pluck a rose beneath the lark, + Then go my liquid way once more, + + And watch, far off, the drowsy lines + Of herded cattle crop and pass, + The vintagers among the vines, + The mowers in the dewy grass; + + And nothing would I drink or eat + Save heaven's clear sunlight and the spring + Of earth's own welling waters sweet, + That never make the pulses sting. + + * * * * * + + SONNET[64] (1822) + + + Oh, he whose pain means life, whose life means pain, + May feel again what I have felt before; + Who has beheld his bliss above him soar + And, when he sought it, fly away again; + Who in a labyrinth has tried in vain, + When he has lost his way, to find a door; + Whom love has singled out for nothing more + Than with despondency his soul to bane; + Who begs each lightning for a deadly stroke, + Each stream to drown the heart that cannot heal + From all the cruel stabs by which it broke; + Who does begrudge the dead their beds like steel + Where they are safe from love's beguiling yoke-- + He knows me quite, and feels what I must feel. + + + + +FOOTNOTES: + + +[Footnote 1: From Addresses on Religion (Discourse IV).] + +[Footnote 2: This refers to the second book, which takes the form of a +dialogue between the inquirer and a Spirit.] + +[Footnote 3: An allusion to the second book.] + +[Footnote 4: The audience gathered in the building of the Royal +Academy at Berlin.--ED.] + +[Footnote 5: J.G. Hamann. _Hellenistische Briefe_ I, 189.] + +[Footnote 6: Goethe. _Werke_ (1840) xxx., 352. Mr. Ward's translation +of Goethe's "Essays on Art," p. 76.] + +[Footnote 7: Selections translated by Margarete Münsterberg.] + +[Footnote 8: Permission George Bell & Son, London.] + +[Footnote 9: Translator: H.W. Dulcken. Permission Ward, Lock & Company, +Ltd., London.] + +[Footnote 10: Translator: Margarete Münsterberg.] + +[Footnote 11: Translator: C.T. Brooks.] + +[Footnote 12: Translator: Herman Montagu Donner.] + +[Footnote 13: Translator: C.T. Brooks.] + +[Footnote 14: Translator: Margarete Münsterberg.] + +[Footnote 15: Translator: Margarete Münsterberg.] + +[Footnote 16: Translator: Margarete Münsterberg.] + +[Footnote 17: Translator: C.T. Brooks.] + +[Footnote 18: Translator: W.W. Skeat.] + +[Footnote 19: Translator: Henry W. Longfellow.] + +[Footnote 20: Translator: C.T. Brooks.] + +[Footnote 21: Translator: Percy Mackaye.] + +[Footnote 22: Translator: Alfred Baskerville.] + +[Footnote 23: Translator: W.W. Skeat. From _Representative German +Poems_, Henry Holt & Co., New York.] + +[Footnote 24: Translator: W.W. Skeat. From _Representative German +Poems_, Henry Holt & Co., New York.] + +[Footnote 25: Translator: H.W. Dulcken. Permission Ward, Lock & +Company, Ltd., London.] + +[Footnote 26: Translator: W.H. Furness.] + +[Footnote 27: Translator: Margarete Münsterberg] + +[Footnote 28: Translator: Margarete Münsterberg.] + +[Footnote 29: Translator: A.I. du P. Coleman.] + +[Footnote 30: Translator: Margarete Münsterberg.] + +[Footnote 31: Translator: C.T. Brooks.] + +[Footnote 32: Translator: W.H. Furness.] + +[Footnote 33: Translator: Henry W. Longfellow. From _Representative +German Poems_, Henry Holt & Co., New York.] + +[Footnote 34: Translator: Kate Freiligrath-Kroeker. Permission William +Heinemann, London.] + +[Footnote 35: Translator: C.G. Leland. From _Representative German +Poems_, Henry Holt & Co., New York.] + +[Footnote 36: Translator: Alfred Baskerville.] + +[Footnote 37: Translator: Alfred Baskerville.] + +[Footnote 38: Translator: A.I. du P. Coleman] + +[Footnote 39: Translator: Alfred Baskerville] + +[Footnote 40: Translators: Bayard Taylor and Lilian Bayard Taylor +Kiliani. From _A Sheaf of Poems_, permission R.G. Badger, Boston.] + +[Footnote 41: Translator: A.I. du P. Coleman.] + +[Footnote 42: Translator: A.I. du P. Coleman.] + +[Footnote 43: From the _Foreign Quarterly_] + +[Footnote 44: Chapters 2, 6, 8.] + +[Footnote 45: An imaginary musical enthusiast of whom Hoffmann has +written much; under the fiery, sensitive, wayward character of this +crazy bandmaster, presenting, it would seem, a shadowy likeness +of himself. The _Kreisleriana_ occupy a large space among these +_Fantasy-pieces_; and Johannes Kreisler is the main figure in _Kater +Murr_, Hoffmann's favorite but unfinished work. In the third and last +volume, Kreisler was to end, not in composure and illumination, as the +critics would have required, but in utter madness: a sketch of a wild, +flail-like scarecrow, dancing vehemently and blowing soap-bubbles, and +which had been intended to front the last title-page, was found +among Hoffmann's papers, and engraved and published in his _Life and +Remains_.] + +[Footnote 46: Permission Bernhard Tauchnitz, Leipzig.] + +[Footnote 47: Translator: Herman Montagu Donner.] + +[Footnote 48: Translator: John Oxenford. From _Representative German +Poems_, Henry Holt & Co., New York.] + +[Footnote 49: Translators: Bayard Taylor and Lilian Bayard Taylor +Kiliani. + +From _A Sheaf of Poems_, permission R.G. Badger, Boston.] + +[Footnote 50: Translator: A.I. du P. Coleman. + +This is a working-over of an old popular song in imitation of the +swallow's cry, found in various dialect-forms in different parts of +Germany. The most widespread version is: + + Wenn ich wegzieh', wenn ich wegzieh', + Sind Kisten and Kasten voll!' + Wann ich wiederkomm', wann ich wiederkomm', + Ist alles verzehrt.] + +[Footnote 51: Translator: Alfred Baskerville.] + +[Footnote 52: Translator: Bayard Taylor. From _Representative German +Poems_, Henry Holt & Co., New York.] + +[Footnote 53: Translator: A.I. du P. Coleman.] + +[Footnote 54: Translator: A.I. du P. Coleman.] + +[Footnote 55: Translator: A.I. du P. Coleman.] + +[Footnote 56: Translator: H.W. Dulcken. From _Book of German Songs_, +permission Ward, Lock & Company, Ltd., London.] + +[Footnote 57: Translator: Margarete Münsterberg.] + +[Footnote 58: Translator: A.I. du P. Coleman.] + +[Footnote 59: Translator: H.W. Dulcken. Permission Ward, Lock & Company, +Ltd., London.] + +[Footnote 60: Translator: Lord Lindsay. From _Ballads, Songs and +Poems_.] + +[Footnote 61: Translators: Bayard Taylor and Lilian Bayard Taylor +Kiliani. From _A Sheaf of Poems_, permission R.G. Badger, Boston.] + +[Footnote 62: Translator: Henry W. Longfellow. From _Representative +German Poems_, Henry Holt & Co., New York.] + +[Footnote 63: Translator: Percy MacKaye.] + +[Footnote 64: Translator: Margarete Münsterberg.] + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The German Classics of the Nineteenth +and Twentieth Centuries: Masterpieces of German Literature Translated into English, Volume 5., by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GERMAN CLASSICS *** + +***** This file should be named 12888-8.txt or 12888-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/8/8/12888/ + +Produced by Stan Goodman, Leah Moser and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries: + Masterpieces of German Literature Translated into English, Volume 5. + +Author: Various + +Release Date: July 12, 2004 [EBook #12888] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GERMAN CLASSICS *** + + + + +Produced by Stan Goodman, Leah Moser and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + +VOLUME V + +THE GERMAN CLASSICS + +Masterpieces of German Literature + +TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH + +Patrons' Edition IN TWENTY VOLUMES + +ILLUSTRATED + +1914 + + + + + +CONTRIBUTORS AND TRANSLATORS + +VOLUME V + + * * * * * + +Special Writers + + FRANK THILLY, PH.D., LL.D., Professor of Philosophy, Cornell + University: The Romantic Philosophers--Fichte, Schelling, and + Schleiermacher. + + GEORGE H. DANTON, PH.D., Professor of German, Butler College: Later + German Romanticism. + + +Translators + + PERCY MACKAYE, Dramatist and Poet: Departure; Would I were Free as + are My Dreams. + + A.I. DU P. COLEMAN, A.M., Professor of English Literature, College + of the City of New York: Taillefer; The Lion's Bride; The Crucifix; + The Old Singer; From My Childhood Days; The Invitation; A Parable; + At Forty Years; etc. + + MARGARETE MUeNSTERBERG: Selections from The Boy's Magic Horn; Union + Song; The Mother Tongue; Spring Greeting to the Fatherland; Freedom; + Charlemagne's Voyage; Chidher; etc. + + HERMAN MONTAGU DONNER: Luetzow's Wild Band; Cavalryman's Morning + Song. + + LOUIS H. GRAY, PH.D.: Addresses to the German Nation. + + FREDERIC H. HEDGE: The Destiny of Man; The Wonderful History of + Peter Schlemihl; The Golden Pot. + + GEORGE RIPLEY: On the Social Element in Religion. + + J. ELLIOT CABOT: On the Relation of the Plastic Arts to Nature. + + MRS. A.L.W. WISTER: From the Life of a Good-for-nothing. + + MARGARET HUNT: The Frog King, or Iron Henry; The Wolf and the Seven + Little Kids; Rapunzel; Haensel and Grethel; The Fisherman and His + Wife. + + F.E. BUNNETT: Selections from Undine. + + H.W. DULCKEN: Song of the Fatherland; The White Hart; Evening Song; + Before the Doors. + + C.T. BROOKS: Men and Knaves; Prayer During Battle; Song of the + Mountain Boy; The Chapel; etc. + + W.W. SKEAT: The Shepherd's Sang on the Lord's Day; The Hostess' + Daughter; The Good Comrade. + + W.H. FURNESS: The Lost Church; The Minstrel's Curse. + + HENRY W. LONGFELLOW: The Luck of Edenhall; Remorse; The Castle by + the Sea. + + KATE FREILIGRATH-KROEKER: On the Death of a Child. + + C.G. LELAND: The Broken Ring. + + ALFRED BASKERVILLE: Morning Prayer; The Castle of Boncourt; Woman's + Love and Life; The Spring of Love; etc. + + BAYARD TAYLOR and LILIAN BAYARD TAYLOR KILIANI: The Women of + Weinsberg; Barbarossa; the Grave of Alaric. + + JOHN OXENFORD: The Sentinel. + + LORD LINDSAY: The Pilgrim Before St. Just's. + + BAYARD TAYLOR: He Came to Meet Me. + + + + +CONTENTS OF VOLUME V + + The Romantic Philosophers--Fichte, Schelling, and Schleiermacher. + By Frank Thilly + + + Friedrich Schleiermacher + + On the Social Element in Religion. Translated by George Ripley + + + Johann Gottlieb Fichte + + The Destiny of Man. Translated by Frederic H. Hedge + Addresses to the German Nation. Translated by Louis H. Gray + + + Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph von Schelling + + On the Relation of the Plastic Arts to Nature. Translated by J. Elliot + Cabot + + * * * * * + + Later German Romanticism. By George H. Danton + + + Ludwig Achim von Arnim and Clemens Brentano + + The Boy's Magic Horn. Selections translated by Margarete Muensterberg. + Were I a Little Bird + The Mountaineer + As Many as Sand-grains in the Sea + The Swiss Deserter + The Tailor in Hell + The Reaper + + + Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm + + Fairy Tales. Translated by Margaret Hunt. + The Frog King, or Iron Henry + The Wolf and the Seven Little Kids + Rapunzel + Haensel and Grethel + The Fisherman and His Wife + + + Ernst Moritz Arndt + + Song of the Fatherland. Translated by H.W. Dulcken + Union Song. Translated by Margarete Muensterberg + + + Theodor Koerner + + Men and Knaves. Translated by C.T. Brooks + Luetzow's Wild Band. Translated by Herman Montagu Donner + Prayer During Battle. Translated by C.T. Brooks + + + Maximilian Gottfried von Schenkendorf + + The Mother Tongue. Translated by Margarete Muensterberg + Spring Greeting to the Fatherland. Translated by Margarete Muensterberg + Freedom. Translated by Margarete Muensterberg + + + Ludwig Uhland + + The Chapel. Translated by C.T. Brooks + The Shepherd's Song on the Lord's Day. Translated by W.W. Skeat + The Castle by the Sea. Translated by Henry W. Longfellow + Song of the Mountain Boy. Translated by C.T. Brooks + Departure. Translated by Percy MacKaye + Farewell. Translated by Alfred Baskerville + The Hostess' Daughter. Translated by W.W. Skeat + The Good Comrade. Translated by W.W. Skeat + The White Hart. Translated by H.W. Dulcken + The Lost Church. Translated by W.H. Furness + Charlemagne's Voyage. Translated by Margarete Muensterberg + Free Art. Translated by Margarete Muensterberg + Taillefer. Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman + Suabian Legend. Translated by Margarete Muensterberg + The Blind King. Translated by C.T. Brooks + The Minstrel's Curse. Translated by W.H. Furness + The Luck of Edenhall. Translated by Henry W. Longfellow + On the Death of a Child. Translated by Kate Freiligrath-Kroeker + + + Joseph von Eichendorff + + The Broken Ring. Translated by C.G. Leland + Morning Prayer. Translated by Alfred Baskerville + From the Life of a Good-for-nothing. Translated by Mrs. A.L.W. Wister + + + Adalbert von Chamisso + + The Castle of Boncourt. Translated by Alfred Baskerville + The Lion's Bride. Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman + Woman's Love and Life. Translated by Alfred Baskerville + The Women of Weinsberg. Translated by Bayard Taylor and Lilian Bayard Taylor Kiliani + The Crucifix. Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman + The Old Singer. Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman + The Old Washerwoman. From the _Foreign Quarterly_ + The Wonderful History of Peter Schlemihl. Translated by Frederic H. Hedge + + + Ernst Theodor Amadeus Hoffmann + + The Golden Pot. Translated by Frederic H. Hedge + + + Friedrich Baron de la Motte-Fouque + + Selections from Undine. Translated by F.E. Bunnett + + + Wilhelm Hauff + + Cavalryman's Morning Song. Translated by Herman Montagu Donner + The Sentinel. Translated by John Oxenford + + + Friedrich Rueckert + + Barbarossa. Translated by Bayard Taylor and Lilian Bayard Taylor Kiliani + From My Childhood Days. Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman + The Spring of Love. Translated by Alfred Baskerville + He Came to Meet Me. Translated by Bayard Taylor + The Invitation. Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman + Murmur Not. Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman + A Parable. Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman + Evening Song. Translated by H.W. Dulcken + Chidher. Translated by Margarete Muensterberg + At Forty Years. Translated by A.I. du P. Coleman + Before the Doors. Translated by H.W. Dulcken + + + August von Platen-Hallermund + + The Pilgrim Before St. Just's. Translated by Lord Lindsay + The Grave of Alaric. Translated by Bayard Taylor and Lilian Bayard Taylor Kiliani + Remorse. Translated by Henry W. Longfellow + Would I were Free as are My Dreams. Translated by Percy MacKaye + Sonnet. Translated by Margarete Muensterberg + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS--VOLUME V + + Heidelberg + Friedrich Schleiermacher. By E. Hader + The Three Hermits. By Moritz von Schwind + Johann Gottlieb Fichte. By Bury + Volunteers of 1813 before King Friedrich Wilhelm III in Breslau. By F.W. Scholtz + Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph von Schelling. By Carl Begas + The Jungfrau. By Moritz von Schwind + The Magic Horn. By Moritz von Schwind + Ludwig Achim von Arnim. By Stroehling + Clemens Brentano. By E. Linder + The Reaper. By Walter Crane + Wilhelm Grimm. By E. Hader + Jacob Grimm. By E. Hader + Haensel and Gretel. By Ludwig Richter + Ernst Moritz Arndt. By Julius Roeting + Theodor Koerner. By E. Hader + Maximilian Gottfried von Schenkendorf + Ludwig Uhland. By C. Jaeger + The Villa by the Sea. By Arnold Boecklin + Leaving at Dawn. By Moritz von Schwind + Joseph von Eichendorff. By Franz Kugler + Adalbert von Chamisso. By C. Jaeger + The Wedding Journey. By Moritz von Schwind + Ernst Theodor Amadeus Hofmann. By Hensel + Friedrich Baron de la Motte-Fouque + Wilhelm Hauff. By E. Hader + The Sentinel. By Robert Haug + Friedrich Rueckert. By C. Jaeger + Memories of Youth. By Ludwig Richter + August Graf von Platen-Hallermund + The Morning Hour. By Moritz von Schwind + + + + +THE ROMANTIC PHILOSOPHERS--FICHTE, SCHELLING, AND SCHLEIERMACHER + +By FRANK THILLY, PH.D., LL.D. Professor of Philosophy, Cornell +University + + +The Enlightenment of the eighteenth century had implicit faith in +the powers of human reason to reach the truth. With its +logical-mathematical method it endeavored to illuminate every nook and +corner of knowledge, to remove all obscurity, mystery, bigotry, and +superstition, to find a reason for everything under the sun. Nature, +religion, the State, law, morality, language, and art were brought +under the searchlight of reason and reduced to simple and self-evident +principles. Human institutions were measured according to their +reasonableness; whatever was not rational had no _raison d'etre_; +to demolish the natural and historical in order to make room for +the rational became the practical ideal of the day. Enlightenment +emphasized the worth and dignity of the human individual, it sought to +deliver him from the slavery of authority and tradition, to make him +self-reliant in thought and action, to obtain for him his natural +rights, to secure his happiness and perfection in a world expressly +made for him, and to guarantee the continuance of his personal +existence in the life to come. In Germany this great movement found +expression in a popular commonsense philosophy which proved the +existence of God, freedom, and immortality, and conceived the universe +as a rational order designed by an all-wise and all-good Creator for +the benefit of man, his highest product; while other thinkers regarded +Spinozism as the only rational system, indeed as the last word of all +speculative metaphysics; for them logical thought necessarily led to +pantheism and determinism. In France, after reaching its climax in +Voltaire, it ended in materialism, atheism, and fatalism; and in +England, where it had developed the empiricism of Locke, it came to +grief in the scepticism of Hume. If we can know only our impressions, +then rational theology, cosmology, and psychology are impossible, and +it is futile to philosophize about God, the world, and the human soul. +Consistently carried out, the logical-mathematical method seemed to +land the intellect in Spinozism or in materialism--in either case to +catch man in the causal machinery of nature. In this dilemma many were +tempted to throw reason overboard as an instrument of ultimate +truth, and to seek for certainty through other functions of the human +soul--in feeling, faith, or mystical vision of some sort; the claims +of the heart and will were urged against the proud pretensions of the +intellect (Hamann, Herder, Jacobi). Another way of escape was found +by substituting the organic conception of reality for the +logical-mathematical view of the _Aufklaerung_; nature and life, +poetry, art, language, political, social, and religious institutions +are not creations of reason, not things made to order, but +organic--products of evolution (Lessing, Herder, Winckelmann, Goethe). +Man, himself, moreover, is not mere intellect, but a being in whom +feelings, impulses, yearnings, will, are elements to be reckoned with. +And reality is not as transparent as the Enlightenment assumed it to +be; existence divided by reason leaves a remainder, as Goethe had put +it. + +It was Immanuel Kant who tried to arbitrate between the conflicting +tendencies of his age. He was an _Aufklaerer_ in so far as he brought +reason itself to the bar of reason and sat in judgment upon its +claims, and, likewise, in so far as he insisted on the objective +validity of physics and mathematics. But he was as much opposed to +the pretentiousness of dogmatic metaphysics as to the pusillanimity +of scepticism and the _Schwaermerei_ of mysticism. He repudiated the +shallow proofs of the existence of God, freedom, and immortality +no less emphatically than he rejected materialism with its +atheism, fatalism, and hedonism. He tried to save everything worth +saving--rational knowledge, modern science, the basal truths of +the old metaphysics, and the most precious human values. For +the scientific intelligence, so he held, nature and the self are +absolutely determined; every physical occurrence and every human act +are necessary links in a causal chain. But such knowledge is +possible only in the field of phenomena (_Erscheinungen_); through +sense-perception and the discursive understanding we cannot reach the +inner core of reality; nor can we pierce the veil of appearances by +means of intellectual intuitions, mystical visions, feeling, or faith, +i.e., through the emotional and instinctive parts of our nature. It is +the presence of the moral law or categorical imperative within us that +points to a spiritual world beyond the phenomenal causal order and +assures us of our freedom, immortality, and God. It is because we +possess this deeper source of truth in practical reason that freedom +and an ideal kingdom in which purpose reigns are vouchsafed to us, and +that we can free ourselves from the mechanism of the natural order. +It is moral truth that both sets us free and demonstrates our freedom, +and that makes harmony possible between the mechanical theory of +science and the teleological conception of philosophy. The scientific +understanding would plunge us into determinism and agnosticism; from +these, faith in the moral law alone can deliver us. In this sense +Kant destroyed knowledge to make room for a rational faith in a +supersensible world, to save the independence and dignity of the human +self and the spiritual values of his people. In claiming a place +for the autonomous personality in what _appeared to be_ a mechanical +universe, Kant gave voice to some of the deeper yearnings of the age. +The German Enlightenment, the new humanism, mysticism, pietism, +and the faith-philosophy were all interested in the human soul, and +unwilling to sacrifice it to the demands of a rationalistic science or +metaphysics. In seeking to rescue it, the great criticist, piloted by +the moral law, steered his course between the rocks of rationalism, +sentimentalism, and scepticism. It was his solution of the controversy +between the head and the heart that influenced Fichte, Schelling, and +Schleiermacher. They differed from Kant and among themselves in many +respects, but they all glorified the spirit, _Geist_, as the living, +active element of reality, and they all rejected the intellect as +the source of ultimate truth. They followed him in his +anti-intellectualism, but they did not avoid, as he did, the +attractive doctrine of an inner intuition; according to them we can +somehow grasp the supersensible in an inner experience which Fichte +called intellectual, Schelling artistic, Schleiermacher religious. The +bankruptcy of the intelligence was overcome in their systems by the +discovery of a faculty that revealed to them the living, dynamic +nature of the universe. They were all more or less influenced by the +romantic currents of the times, seeking with Herder and Jacobi an +approach to the heart of things other than through the categories +of logic. Like Lessing and Goethe, they were also attracted to +the pantheistic teaching of Spinoza, though rejecting its rigid +determinism so far as it might affect the human will. They likewise +accepted the idea of development which the leaders of German +literature, Lessing, Herder, and Goethe, had already opposed to the +unhistorical _Aufklaerung_, and which came to play such a prominent +part in the great system of Hegel. + +Johann Gottlieb Fichte was born in Ramenau, Oberlausitz, May 19, 1762, +the son of a poor weaver. Through the generosity of a nobleman, +the gifted lad was enabled to follow his intellectual bent; after +attending the schools at Meissen and Schulpforta he studied theology +at the universities of Jena, Leipzig, and Wittenberg with the purpose +of entering the ministry. His poverty frequently compelled him to +interrupt his studies by accepting private tutorships in families, so +that he never succeeded in preparing him self for the examinations. In +1790 he became acquainted with Kant's philosophy, which two students +had asked him to expound to them, and to which he now devoted himself +with feverish zeal. It revolutionized his entire mode of thought and +determined the course of his life. The anonymous publication of his +book, _Attempt at a Critique of all Revelation_, in 1792, written +from the Kantian point of view and mistaken at first for a work of +the great criticist, won him fame and a professorship at Jena (1794). +Here, in the intellectual centre of Germany, Fichte became the +eloquent exponent of the new idealism, which aimed at the reform of +life as well as of _Wissenschaft_; he not only taught philosophy, but +_preached_ it, as Kuno Fischer has aptly said. During the Jena +period he laid the foundations for his "Science of Knowledge" +(_Wissenschaftslehre_) which he presented in numerous works: _The +Conception of the Science of Knowledge_, 1794; _The Foundation of +the Entire Science of Knowledge_, 1794; _The Foundation of Natural +Rights_, 1796; _The System of Ethics_, 1798--(all these translated by +Kroeger); the two _Introductions to the Science of Knowledge_, 1797 +(trans. by Kroeger in _Journal of Speculative Philosophy_). The +appearance of an article _Concerning the Ground of our Belief in a +Divine World-Order_, 1798, in which Fichte seemed to identify God with +the moral world-order, brought down upon him the charge of atheism, +against which he vigorously defended himself in his _Appeal to the +Public_ and a series of other writings. Full of indignation over the +attitude which his government assumed in the matter, be offered his +resignation (1799) and removed to Berlin, where he presented his +philosophical notions in popular public lectures and in writings which +were characterized by clearness, force, and moral earnestness rather +than by their systematic form. There appeared: _The Vocation of Man_, +1800 (translated by Dr. Smith); _A Sun-Clear Statement concerning the +Nature of the New Philosophy_, 1801 (trans. by Kroeger in _Journal of +Speculative Philosophy_); _The Nature of the Scholar_, 1806 (trans. by +Smith); _Characteristics of the Present Age_, 1806 (trans. by Smith); +_The Way towards the Blessed Life_, 1806 (trans. by Smith). After the +overthrow of Prussia by Napoleon, in 1806, Fichte fled from Berlin to +Koenigsberg and Sweden, but returned when peace was declared in +1807, and delivered his celebrated _Addresses to the German Nation_, +1807-08, in which he sought to arouse the German people to a +consciousness of their national mission and their duty even while the +French army was still occupying the Prussian capital. + +Fichte was appointed professor of philosophy (1810) in the new +University of Berlin, for which he had been invited to construct a +plan and in the establishment of which he took a lively interest. +During the last period of his life he devoted himself to the +development of his thoughts in systematic form and wrote a number of +books; most of these were published after his death, which occurred +January 27, 1814. Among them we mention: _General Outline of +the Science of Knowledge_, 1810 (trans. by Smith); _The Facts of +Consciousness_, 1813; _Theory of the State_, published 1820. The +Complete Works, edited by his son, J.H. Fichte, appeared 1843-46. New +editions of particular works are now appearing. + +The world for Fichte is at bottom a spiritual order, the revelation +of a self-determining ego or reason; hence the science of the ego, or +reason, the _Wissenschaftslehre_, is the key to all knowledge, and we +can understand nature and man only when we have caught the secret +of the self-active ego. Philosophy must, therefore, be +_Wissenschaftslehre_, for in it all natural and mental sciences find +their ultimate roots; they can yield genuine knowledge only when +and in so far as they are based on the principles of the Science of +Knowledge--mere empirical sciences having no real cognitive value. +The ego-principle itself, however, without which there could be no +knowledge, cannot be grasped by the ordinary discursive understanding +with its spatial, temporal, and causal categories. Kant is right: if +we were limited to the scientific intellect, we could never rise above +the conception of a phenomenal order absolutely ruled by the causal +law. But there is another source of knowledge: in an act of inner +vision or intellectual intuition, which is itself an act of freedom, +we become conscious of the universal moral purpose; the law of duty or +the categorical imperative commands us to be free persons. We cannot +refuse to accept this law without abandoning ourselves as persons, +without conceiving ourselves as _things_, or mere products of nature; +the choice of one's philosophy, therefore, depends upon what kind of +man one is--upon one's values, upon one's will. The type of man who +is a slave of things, who cannot raise himself out of the causal +mechanism, who is not free, will never be able to conceive himself +otherwise than as a cog in a wheel. Fichte accepts the ego, or spirit, +as the ultimate and absolute principle, because it alone can give our +life worth and meaning. Thus he grounds his entire philosophy upon a +moral imperative which presents itself to the ego in an inner vision. +He also tells us that we can become immediately aware of the +pure activity of the ego, of our free action, in a similar act of +intellectual intuition. But we cannot know this free act unless we +perform it ourselves; no one can understand the idealistic philosophy +who is not free; hence philosophy begins with an act of freedom--_im +Anfang war die Tat_. + +In order that we may rise to free action, opposition is needed, and +this we get in the spatial-temporal world of phenomena, or nature, +which the ego creates for itself in order to have resistance to +overcome. Fichte conceives of nature as "the material of our duty," +as the obstacle against which the ego can exercise its freedom. There +could be no free action without something to act upon, and there could +be no purposive action without a world in which everything happens +according to law; and such a causal world we have in our phenomenal +order, which is the product of the absolute spiritual principle. +By the ego Fichte did not mean the subjective ego, the particular +individual self with all its idiosyncrasies, but the universal ego, +the reason that manifests itself in all conscious individuals as +universal and necessary truth. In his earlier period he did not define +his thought very carefully, but in time the absolute ego came to be +conceived as the principle of all life and consciousness, as +universal life, and ultimately identified with God. His philosophy is, +therefore, not subjective idealism, although it was so misinterpreted, +but objective idealism; nature is not the creation of the particular +individual ego, but the phenomenal expression, or reflection, in the +subject of the universal spiritual principle. + +Upon such an idealistic world-view Fichte based the ethical teachings +through which he exercised a lasting influence upon the German people +and the history of human thought. The universal ego is a moral ego, +an ego with an ethical purpose, that realizes itself in nature and in +man; it is, therefore, the vocation of man to obey the voice of duty +and to free himself from the bondage of nature, to be a person, not a +thing, to cooeperate in the realization of the eternal purpose which +is working itself out in the history of humanity, to sacrifice himself +for the ideal of freedom. Every individual has his particular place in +which to labor for the social whole; how to do it, his conscience will +tell him without fail. And so, too, the German people has its peculiar +place in civilization, its unique contribution to make in the struggle +of the human race for the development of free personality. It is +Germany's mission to regain its nationality, in order that it may +take the philosophical leadership in the work of civilization, and to +establish a State based upon personal liberty, a veritable kingdom +of justice, such as has never appeared on earth, which shall realize +freedom based upon the equality of all who bear the human form. + +The Fichtean philosophy holds the mirror up to its age. With the +Enlightenment it glorifies reason, the free personality, nationality, +humanity, civilization, and progress; in this regard it expresses the +spirit of all modern philosophy. It goes beyond the _Aufklaerung_ in +emphasizing the living, moving, developing nature of reality; for it, +life and consciousness constitute the essence of things, and universal +life reveals itself in a progressive history of mankind. Moreover, +the dynamic spiritual process cannot be comprehended by conceptual +thought, by the categories of a rationalistic science and philosophy, +but only by itself, by the living experience of a free agent. In the +categorical imperative, and not in logical reasonings, the individual +becomes aware of his destiny; in the sense of duty, the love of truth, +loyalty to country, respect for the rights of man, and reverence for +ideals, spirit speaks to spirit and man glimpses the eternal. + +Among the elements in this idealism that appealed to the Romanticists +were its anti-intellectualism, its intuition, the high value it placed +upon the personality, its historical viewpoint, and its faith in the +uniqueness of German culture. They welcomed the _Wissenschaftslehre_ +as a valuable ally, and exaggerated those features of it which seemed +to chime with their own views. The ego which Fichte conceives as +universal reason becomes for them the subjective empirical self, the +unique personality, in which the unconscious, spontaneous, impulsive, +instinctive phase constitutes the original element, the more +extravagant among them transforming the rational moral ego into a +romantic ego, an ego full of mystery and caprice, and even a lawless +ego. Such an ego is read into nature; for, filled with occult magic +forces, nature can be understood only by the sympathetic divining +insight of the poetic genius. And so, too, authority and tradition, as +representing the instinctive and historical side of social life, come +into their own again. + +Fichte's chief interest was centred upon the ego; nature he regarded +as a product of the absolute ego in the individual consciousness, +intended as a necessary obstacle for the free will. Without opposition +the self cannot act; without overcoming resistance it cannot become +free. In order to make free action possible, to enable the ego to +realize its ends, nature must be what it is, an order ruled by the +iron law of causality. This cheerless conception of nature--which, +however, was not Fichte's last word on the subject, since he afterward +came to conceive it as the revelation of universal life, or the +expression of a pantheistic God--did not attract Romanticism. It was +Schelling, the erstwhile follower and admirer of Fichte, who turned +his attention to the philosophy of nature and so more thoroughly +satisfied the romantic yearnings of the age. + +Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph Schelling was born at Leonberg, Wuertemberg, +January 27, 1775, the son of a learned clergyman and writer on +theology. He was a precocious child and made rapid progress in his +studies, entering the Theological Seminary at Tuebingen at the age of +fifteen. Between the ages of nineteen and twenty-two he wrote a +number of able treatises in the spirit of the new idealism, and +was recognized as the most talented pupil of Fichte and his best +interpreter. After the completion of his course at the University +(1795), he became the tutor and companion of two young noblemen with +whom he remained for two years (1796-98) at the University of Leipzig, +during which time he devoted himself to the study of mathematics, +physics, and medicine, and published a number of philosophical +articles. In 1798 he received a call to a professorship at Jena, where +Fichte, Schiller, Wilhelm Schlegel, and Hegel became his colleagues, +and where he entered into friendly relations with the Romantic circle +of which Caroline Schlegel, who afterward became his wife, was a +shining light. This was the most productive period of his life; during +the next few years he developed his own system of philosophy and +gave to the world his most brilliant writings. In 1803 he accepted +a professorship at Wuerzburg, but came into conflict with the +authorities; in 1806 he went to Munich as a member of the Academy of +Sciences and Director of the Academy of Fine Arts; in 1820 he moved to +Erlangen; and in 1827 he returned to Munich as professor of philosophy +at the newly-established University and as General Curator of the +Scientific Collections of the State. He was called to Berlin in 1841 +to help counteract the influence of the Hegelian Philosophy, but met +with little success. He died in 1854. + +The earlier writings of Schelling either reproduced the thoughts of +the _Wissenschaftslehre_ or developed them in the Fichtean spirit. +Among those of the latter class we note: _Ideas for a Philosophy of +Nature_, 1797; _On the World-Soul_, 1798; _System of Transcendental +Idealism_, 1800. During the second period, in which the influence of +Bruno and Spinoza is prominent, he works out his own philosophy of +identity; at this time he publishes _Bruno, or, Concerning the Natural +and Divine Principle of Things_, 1802, and _Method of Academic Study_, +1803. In the third period the philosophy of identity becomes the basis +for a still higher system in which the influence of German theosophy +(Jacob Boehme) is apparent; with the exception of _Philosophy and +Religion_, 1804, the _Treatise on Human Freedom_, 1809, and a +few others, the works of this period did not appear until after +Schelling's death. His previous philosophy is now called by him +"negative philosophy;" the higher or positive philosophy has as its +aim the rational construction of the history of the universe, or the +history of creation, upon the basis of the religious ideas of peoples; +it is a philosophy of mythology and revelation. Translations of some +of Schelling's works are to be found in the _Journal of Speculative +Philosophy_, an American periodical founded by W.T. Harris, which +devoted itself to the study of post-Kantian idealism. His Complete +Works, edited by his son, appeared in 14 volumes, 1856. There is a +revival of interest in his philosophy, and new editions of his books +are now being published. + +Like most philosophers of note, Schelling reckons with the various +tendencies of his times. With idealism he interprets the universe as +identical in essence with what we find in our innermost selves; it is +at bottom a living dynamic process. If that is so, nature cannot be +a merely externalized obstacle for the ego, nor a dead static spatial +mechanical system; as the expression of an active spiritual principle +there must be reason and purpose in it. But reason is not identified +by Schelling with self-conscious intelligence, for with the +faith-philosophies and Romanticism he takes it in a wider sense; in +physical and organic nature it is a slumbering reason, an unconscious, +instinctive, purposive force similar to the Leibnizian monad, +Schopenhauer's will, and Bergson's _elan vital_. In this way the +dualism between mechanism and teleology is reconciled. Nature is +a teleological order, an evolution from the unconscious to the +conscious; in man, the highest stage and the climax of history, nature +becomes self-conscious. With this organic conception both Romanticists +and many natural scientists of the age were in practical agreement; +it was the view that had always appealed to Goethe--and Herder before +him--and it gained for Schelling a large following. In his earlier +system he regarded nature as a lower stage in the evolution of +reason and sought to answer the problems: How does Nature become +Consciousness or Ego? the problem of the Philosophy of Nature; and, +How does Consciousness or the Ego become Nature? the problem of +Transcendental Idealism. In his philosophy of identity, nature and +mind are conceived as two different aspects of one and the same +principle, which is both mind and nature, subject and object, ego and +non-ego. All things are identical in essence but differentiated in the +course of evolution. It was not inconsistent with these tenets that +Schelling sought, in his last period, to discover the meaning +of universal history in the obscure beginnings of mythology +and revelation rather than in the lucid regions of an advanced +civilization. + +With the opponents of rationalism Schelling agrees that we cannot +reach the inner meaning of reality, "the living, moving element +in nature," through the scientific intelligence, but that we must +envisage it in intuition. "What is described in concepts," he tells +us, "is at rest; hence there can be concepts only of _things_ and of +that which is finite and sense-perceived. The notion of movement is +not movement itself, and without intuition we should never know what +motion is. Freedom, however, can be comprehended only by freedom, +activity only by activity." Schelling, who is a poet as well as a +philosopher, comes to regard this intuition or inner vision as an +artistic intuition. In the products of art, subject and object, the +ideal and the real, mind and nature, form (or purpose) and matter, +are one; here the harmony aimed at by philosophy lies before our very +eyes, and may be seen, touched, and heard. The creative artist creates +like nature in realizing the ideal; hence, art must serve as the +absolute model for the intuition of the world--it is the true and +eternal organ of philosophy. Like the artistic genius, the philosopher +must have the faculty for perceiving the harmony and identity in the +universe; esthetic intuition is absolute knowing. Art aims to reveal +to us the profoundest meaning of the world, which is the union of form +and matter, of the ideal and the real; in art alone the striving of +nature for harmony and identity is realized; the beautiful is the +infinite represented and made perceivable in finite form; here mind +and nature interpenetrate. In creative art the artist imitates the +creative act of nature and becomes conscious of it; in esthetic +intuition, or the perception of beauty, the philosophical genius +discovers the secret of reality; nature herself is a poem and her +secret is revealed in art. This philosophy is a far cry from the +logical-mathematical method of the _Aufklaerung_; it is a protest +against this, a protest in which the leaders of the new German +literature, Herder, Goethe, Schiller, as well as the Romanticists, +willingly joined. Goethe's entire view of nature, art, and life rested +upon the teleological or organic conception; he, too, regarded the +ability to peer into the heart of things--to see the whole in its +parts, the ideal in the real, the universal in the particular, as +the poet's and thinker's highest gift. He called it an _apercu_, "a +revelation springing up in the inner man that gives him a hint of +his likeness to God." It is this gift which Faust craves and Mephisto +sneers at as _die hohe Intuition_. + + Dass ich erkenne was die Welt + Im innersten zusammenhaelt, + Schau alle Wirkungskraft and Samen + Und tu' nicht mehr in Worten kramen. + +There was much that was fantastic in the _Naturphilosophie_ and much +_a priori_ interpretation of nature that tended to withdraw the +mind from the actualities of existence; it often dealt with bold +assertions, analogies, and figures of speech, rather than with facts +and proofs. But it had its merits; for it aroused an interest in +nature and nature-study, it kept alive the _philosophical_ interest +in the outer world, the desire for unity, _Einheitstrieb_, which has +remained a marked characteristic of German science from Alexander von +Humboldt down to Robert Mayer, Helmholtz, Naegeli, Haeckel, Ostwald, +Hertz, and Driesch. It opposed the one-sided mechanical method of +science, and emphasized conceptions (the idea of development, +the notion of the dynamic character of reality, pan-psychism, and +vitalism) which are still moving the minds of men today, as is +evidenced by the popularity of Henri Bergson, who, with our own +William James, leads the contemporary school of philosophical +Romanticists. + +Fichte's chief contribution to German thought was the +_Wissenschaftslehre_, Schelling's the _Naturphilosophie_, and +Schleiermacher's the philosophy of religion. All these thinkers took +account of the prevailing tendencies of the times--_Aufklaerung_, +Kantian criticism, faith-philosophy, Romanticism, and Spinozism--and +were more or less affected by them. Schleiermacher also came under the +influence of Fichte, Schelling, and Greek idealism, particularly +of Plato's philosophy; many were the sources from which he drew his +material for the construction of a great system of Protestant theology +that exercised a profound influence far beyond the boundaries of his +country and won for him the title of the founder of the New Theology. + +Friedrich Daniel Ernst Schleiermacher, the son of a clergyman of +the reformed church, was born at Breslau, November 21, 1768, and was +educated at the Moravian schools at Niesky and Barby. Made sceptical +by the newer criticism, he left the Moravian brotherhood and entered +the University of Halle (1787), where he devoted himself with equal +zeal to the study of theology and philosophy. After his ordination +in 1794 he occupied various pulpits until 1803, when he was made a +professor and university preacher at Halle. In 1806 he removed from +Halle to Berlin, becoming the preacher of Trinity Church in 1809 +and professor of theology at the newly founded University in 1810, +positions which he filled with marked ability until his death, +February 12, 1834. It was in Berlin that he came into friendly touch +with the leaders of the Romantic school, Tieck, Friedrich Schlegel, +and Novalis, but he did not allow himself to be carried away by their +extravagances. He distinguished himself as a preacher, theologian, +philosopher, and philologist, and, by his study of the sources of +philosophy, added much to the knowledge of its history. Among the +books published during his life-time are: _Addresses on Religion_, +1799; _Monologues_, 1800; _Principles of a Criticism of Previous +Systems of Ethics_, 1803; translations of Plato's _Dialogues_, with +introductions and notes, 1804-28; _The Christian Faith_, 1821-22. +Complete Works, 1834-64. + +Schleiermacher's conception of religion is opposed to the +rationalistic theology of the eighteenth century, as well as to the +Kantian moral theology which has remained popular in Germany to +this day. For him religion is not science or philosophy; it does +not consist in theoretical dogmas or rationalistic proofs; neither +theories about religion nor virtuous conduct nor acts of worship are +religion itself; nor is religion based upon a rational moral faith, +as Kant had taught. He bravely took the part of Fichte in the +atheism-controversy, when the great leaders of German culture, Kant, +Herder, and even Goethe, abandoned him to his fate. He rejected +the shallow proofs of the _Aufklaerung_, as well as the orthodox +utilitarian view of God as the dispenser of rewards and punishments, +and showed that the real foes of religion were the rational and +practical persons who endeavored to suppress the yearning for the +transcendent in man and to drive out all mystery in seeking to make +everything clear to him. We cannot have conceptual knowledge of God, +for conceptual thought is concerned with differences and opposites, +whereas God is without such differences and oppositions: he is the +absolute union or identity of thought and being. Religion is grounded +in feeling, or divining intuition; in feeling, we come into direct +relation with God; here the identity of thought and being is +immediately experienced in self-consciousness, and this union is the +divine element in us. Religion is the feeling of absolute dependence +upon an absolute world-ground; it is the immediate consciousness that +everything finite is infinite and exists through the infinite. + +The conception of God as the unity of thought and being, and the idea +of man's absolute dependence upon the world-ground, call to mind the +pantheism of Spinoza. Schleiermacher seeks to tone this down by giving +the world of things a relative independence; God and the world are +inseparable, and yet must be distinguished. God is unity without +plurality, the world plurality without unity; the world is +spatial-temporal, while God is spaceless and timeless. He is, however, +not conceived as a personality, but as the universal creative force, +as the source of all life. The determinism implied in this world-view +is softened by giving the individual a measure of freedom and +independence. The particular individuals are subject to the law of +the whole; but each self has its unique endowment or gifts, its +individuality, and its freedom consists in the unfolding of its +peculiar capacities. With Goethe, Schiller, and Romanticism, our +philosopher rejects the rigoristic Kantian-Fichtean view of duty +which, in his opinion, would suppress individuality and reduce all +persons to a homogeneous mass; like them he regards the development +of unique personalities as the highest moral task. "Every man should +express humanity in his own peculiar way in a unique mixture of +elements, in order that it may reveal itself in every possible form, +and that everything may become real in the infinite fulness which +can spring from its lap." "The same duties can be performed in many +different ways. Different men may practise justice according to the +same principles, each man keeping in view the general welfare and +personal merit, but with different degrees of feeling, all the +way from extreme coldness to the warmest sympathy." The command, +therefore, is not merely: Be a person; but: Be a unique person, live +your own individual life. There is no irreconcilable conflict between +the natural law and the moral law, between impulse and reason. For the +same reasons he defends the diversity of religions and the claims of +personal religion; in each unique individual, religion should be left +free to express itself in its own unique and intimate way. His ideal +is the development of unique, novel, original personalities; and these +are expressions of the divine, which rationalism cannot bring under +either its theoretical or practical rubrics. + +The individual cannot become conscious of, and prize, his own +individuality without at the same time valuing uniqueness in +others; the higher a value he sets upon his own self, the more +the personalities of others must impress him. "Whoever desires to +cultivate his individuality must have an appreciation of everything +that he is not." "The sense of universality (_der allgemeine Sinn_) is +the supreme condition of one's own perfection." Hence the ethical +life is a life in society--a society of unique individuals who respect +humanity in its uniqueness, in themselves and in others. "They are +among themselves a chorus of friends. Every one knows that he too is +a part and product of the universe, that in him too are revealed +its divine life and action." "The more every one approximates the +universe, the more he communicates himself to others, the more perfect +unity will they all form; no one has a consciousness for himself +alone, every one has, at the same time, that of the other; they are no +longer only men, but mankind; rising above themselves and triumphing +over themselves, they are on the road to true immortality and +eternity." In the feeling of piety man recognizes that his desire to +be a unique personality is in harmony with the action of the universe; +hence that he can, ought, and must make the development of his +uniqueness the goal, the strongest motive, and the highest good, +and that he can surely realize what he is striving for, because the +universe which created and determined him created him for that. + + + + +_FRIEDRICH SCHLEIERMACHER_ + + * * * * * + +ON THE SOCIAL ELEMENT IN RELIGION (1799) [1] + +TRANSLATED BY GEORGE RIPLEY + + +Those among you who are accustomed to regard religion as a disease +of the human mind, cherish also the habitual conviction that it is an +evil more easily borne, even though not to be cured, so long as it is +only insulated individuals here and there who are infected with +it; but that the common danger is raised to the highest degree, +and everything put at stake, as soon as a too close connection is +permitted between many patients of this character. In the former +case it is possible by a judicious treatment, as it were by an +antiphlegistic regimen, and by a healthy spiritual atmosphere, to ward +off the violence of the paroxysms; and if not entirely to conquer the +exciting cause of the disease, to attenuate it to such a degree that +it shall be almost innocuous. But in the latter case we must despair +of every other means of cure, except that which may proceed from some +internal beneficent operation of Nature. For the evil is attended with +more alarming symptoms, and is more fatal in its effects, when the too +great proximity of other infected persons feeds and aggravates it in +every individual; the whole mass of vital air is then quickly poisoned +by a few; the most vigorous frames are smitten with the contagion; +all the channels in which the functions of life should go on are +destroyed; all the juices of the system are decomposed; and, seized +with a similar feverous delirium, the sound spiritual life and +productions of whole ages and nations are involved in irremediable +ruin. Hence your antipathy to the church, to every institution +which is intended for the communication of religion, is always more +prominent than that which you feel to religion itself; hence, also, +priests, as the pillars and the most efficient members of such +institutions, are, of all men, the objects of your greatest +abomination. + +Even those among you who hold a little more indulgent opinion with +regard to religion, and deem it rather a singularity than a disorder +of the mind, an insignificant rather than a dangerous phenomenon, +cherish quite as unfavorable impressions of all social organization +for its promotion. A slavish immolation of all that is free and +peculiar, a system of lifeless mechanism and barren ceremonies--these, +they imagine, are the inseparable consequences of every such +institution and are the ingenious and elaborate work of men, who, with +almost incredible success, have made a great merit of things which are +either nothing in themselves, or which any other person was quite as +capable of accomplishing as they. I should pour out my heart but very +imperfectly before you, on a subject to which I attach the utmost +importance, if I did not undertake to give you the correct point +of view with regard to it. I need not here repeat how many of the +perverted endeavors and melancholy fortunes of humanity you charge +upon religious associations; this is clear as light, in a thousand +utterances of your predominant individuals; nor will I stop to refute +these accusations, one by one, in order to fix the evil upon other +causes. Let us rather submit the whole conception of the church to +a new examination, and from its central point, throughout its whole +extent, erect it again upon a new basis, without regard to what it has +actually been hitherto, or to what experience may suggest concerning +it. + +If religion exists at all, it must needs possess a social character; +this is founded not only in the nature of man, but still more in the +nature of religion. You will acknowledge that it indicates a state of +disease, a signal perversion of nature, when an individual wishes to +shut up within himself anything which he has produced and elaborated +by his own efforts. It is the disposition of man to reveal and to +communicate whatever is in him, in the indispensable relations +and mutual dependence not only of practical life, but also of his +spiritual being, by which he is connected with all others of his +race; and the more powerfully he is wrought upon by anything, the more +deeply it penetrates his inward nature, so much the stronger is this +social impulse, even if we regard it only from the point of view of +the universal endeavor to behold the emotions which we feel ourselves, +as they are exhibited by others, so that we may obtain a proof from +their example that our own experience is not beyond the sphere of +humanity. + +[Illustration: FRIEDRICH SCHLEIERMACHER] + +You perceive that I am not speaking here of the endeavor to make +others similar to ourselves, nor of the conviction that what is +exhibited in one is essential to all; it is merely my aim to ascertain +the true relation between our individual life and the common nature +of man, and clearly to set it forth. But the peculiar object of this +desire for communication is unquestionably that in which man feels +that he is originally passive, namely, his observations and emotions. +He is here impelled by the eager wish to know whether the power which +has produced them in him be not something foreign and unworthy. Hence +we see man employed, from his very childhood, in communicating those +observations and emotions; the conceptions of his understanding, +concerning whose origin there can be no doubt, he allows to rest in +his own mind, and still more easily he determines to refrain from +the expression of his judgments; but whatever acts upon his senses, +whatever awakens his feelings, of that he desires to obtain witnesses, +with regard to that he longs for those who will sympathize with him. +How should he keep to himself those very operations of the world upon +his soul which are the most universal and comprehensive, which appear +to him as of the most stupendous and resistless magnitude? How should +he be willing to lock up within his own bosom those very emotions +which impel him with the greatest power beyond himself, and in the +indulgence of which he becomes conscious that he can never understand +his own nature from himself alone? It will rather be his first +endeavor, whenever a religious view gains clearness in his eye, or a +pious feeling penetrates his soul, to direct the attention of others +to the same object, and, as far as possible, to communicate to their +hearts the elevated impulses of his own. + +If, then, the religious man is urged by his nature to speak, it is the +same nature which secures to him the certainty of hearers. There is no +element of his being with which, at the same time, there is implanted +in man such a lively feeling of his total inability to exhaust it by +himself alone, as with that of religion. A sense of religion has no +sooner dawned upon him, than he feels the infinity of its nature and +the limitation of his own; he is conscious of embracing but a small +portion of it; and that which he cannot immediately reach he wishes +to perceive, as far as he can, from the representations of others who +have experienced it themselves, and to enjoy it with them. Hence, +he is anxious to observe every manifestation of it; and, seeking +to supply his own deficiencies, he watches for every tone which +he recognizes as proceeding from it. In this manner, mutual +communications are instituted; in this manner, every one feels equally +the need both of speaking and hearing. + +But the imparting of religion is not to be sought in books, like +that of intellectual conceptions and scientific knowledge. The pure +impression of the original product is too far destroyed in this +medium, which, in the same way that dark-colored objects absorb the +greatest proportion of the rays of light, swallows up everything +belonging to the pious emotions of the heart, which cannot be embraced +in the insufficient symbols from which it is intended again to +proceed. Nay, in the written communications of religious feeling, +everything needs a double and triple representation; for that which +originally represented, must be represented in its turn; and yet +the effect on the whole man, in its complete unity, can only be +imperfectly set forth by continued and varied reflections. It is only +when religion is driven out from the society of the living, that it +must conceal its manifold life under the dead letter. + +Neither can this intercourse of heart with heart, on the deepest +feelings of humanity, be carried on in common conversation. Many +persons, who are filled with zeal for the interests of religion, have +brought it as a reproach against the manners of our age that, +while all other important subjects are so freely discussed in the +intercourse of society, so little should be said concerning God +and divine things. I would defend ourselves against this charge +by maintaining that this circumstance, at least, does not indicate +contempt or indifference toward religion, but a happy and very correct +instinct. In the presence of joy and merriment, where earnestness +itself must yield to raillery and wit, there can be no place for +that which should be always surrounded with holy veneration and awe. +Religious views, pious emotions, and serious considerations with +regard to them--these we cannot throw out to one another in such small +crumbs as the topics of a light conversation; and when the discourse +turns upon sacred subjects, it would rather be a crime than a virtue +to have an answer ready for every question, and a rejoinder for every +remark. Hence, the religious sentiment retires from such circles +as are too wide for it, to the more confidential intercourse of +friendship, and to the mutual communications of love, where the eye +and the countenance are more expressive than words, and where even a +holy silence is understood. But it is impossible for divine things +to be treated in the usual manner of society, where the conversation +consists in striking flashes of thought, gaily and rapidly alternating +with one another; a more elevated style is demanded for the +communication of religion, and a different kind of society, which is +devoted to this purpose, must hence be formed. It is becoming, indeed, +to apply the whole richness and magnificence of human discourse to the +loftiest subject which language can reach--not as if there were any +adornment, with which religion could not dispense, but because it +would show a frivolous and unholy disposition in its heralds if they +did not bring together the most copious resources within their power +and consecrate them all to religion, so that they might thus perhaps +exhibit it in its appropriate greatness and dignity. Hence it is +impossible, without the aid of poetry, to give utterance to the +religious sentiment in any other than an oratorical manner, with all +the skill and energy of language, and freely using, in addition, +the service of all the arts which can contribute to flowing and +impassioned discourse. He, therefore, whose heart is overflowing with +religion, can open his mouth only before an auditory, where that which +is presented, with such a wealth of preparation, can produce the most +extended and manifold effects. + +Would that I could present before you an image of the rich and +luxurious life in this city of God, when its inhabitants come together +each in the fulness of his own inspiration, which is ready to stream +forth without constraint, but, at the same time, each is filled with a +holy desire to receive and to appropriate to himself everything which +others wish to bring before him. If one comes forward before the rest, +it is not because he is entitled to this distinction, in virtue of an +office or of a previous agreement, nor because pride and conceitedness +have given him presumption; it is rather a free impulse of the spirit, +a sense of the most heartfelt unity of each with all, a consciousness +of entire equality, a mutual renunciation of all First and Last, of +all the arrangements of earthly order. He comes forward in order to +communicate to others, as an object of sympathizing contemplation, the +deepest feelings of his soul while under the influence of God; to lead +them to the domain of religion in which he breathes his native air; +and to infect them with the contagion of his own holy emotions. He +speaks forth the Divine which stirs his bosom, and in holy silence the +assembly follows the inspiration of his words. Whether he unveils a +secret mystery, or with prophetic confidence connects the future with +the present; whether he strengthens old impressions by new examples, +or is led by the lofty visions of his burning imagination into other +regions of the world and into another order of things, the practised +sense of his audience everywhere accompanies his own; and when he +returns into himself from his wanderings through the kingdom of +God, his own heart and that of each of his hearers are the common +dwelling-place of the same emotion. + +If, now, the agreement of his sentiments with that which they feel be +announced to him, whether loudly or low, then are holy mysteries--not +merely significant emblems, but, justly regarded, natural indications +of a peculiar consciousness and peculiar feelings--invented and +celebrated, a higher choir, as it were, which in its own lofty +language answers to the appealing voice. But not only, so to speak; +for as such a discourse is music without tune or measure, so there +is also a music among the Holy, which may be called discourse without +words, the most distinct and expressive utterance of the inward man. +The Muse of Harmony, whose intimate relation with religion, although +it has been for a long time spoken of and described, is yet recognized +only by few, has always presented upon her altars the most perfect +and magnificent productions of her selectest scholars in honor of +religion. It is in sacred hymns and choirs, with which the words +of the poet are connected only by slight and airy bands, that those +feelings are breathed forth which precise language is unable to +contain; and thus the tones of thought and emotion alternate with each +other in mutual support, until all is satisfied and filled with the +Holy and the Infinite. Of this character is the influence of religious +men upon one another; such is their natural and eternal union. Do +not take it ill of them that this heavenly bond--the most consummate +product of the social nature of man, but to which it does not +attain until it becomes conscious of its own high and peculiar +significance--that this should be deemed of more value in their sight +than the political union which you esteem so far above everything +else, but which will nowhere ripen to manly beauty, and which, +compared with the former, appears far more constrained than free, far +more transitory than eternal. + +But where now, in the description which I have given of the community +of the pious, is that distinction between priests and laymen, which +you are accustomed to designate as the source of so many evils? A +false appearance has deceived you. This is not a distinction between +persons, but only one of condition and performance. Every man is a +priest, so far as he draws others around him, into the sphere which he +has appropriated to himself and in which he professes to be a master. +Every one is a layman, so far as he is guided by the counsel and +experience of another, within the sphere of religion, where he is +comparatively a stranger. There is not here the tyrannic aristocracy, +which you describe with such hatred; but this society is a priestly +people, a perfect republic, where every one is alternately ruler and +citizen, where every one follows the same power in another which he +feels also in himself, and with which he, too, governs others. + +How then could the spirit of discord and division--which you regard +as the inevitable consequence of all religious combinations--find a +congenial home within this sphere? I see nothing but that All is One, +and that all the differences which actually exist in religion, by +means of this very union of the pious, are gently blended with one +another. I have directed your attention to the different degrees +of religiousness, I have pointed out to you the different modes of +insight and the different directions in which the soul seeks for +itself the supreme object of its pursuit. Do you imagine that +this must needs give birth to sects, and thus destroy all free +and reciprocal intercourse in religion? It is true, indeed, in +contemplation, that everything which is separated into various parts +and embraced in different divisions, must be opposed and contradictory +to itself; but consider, I pray you, how Life is manifested in a great +variety of forms, how the most hostile elements seek out one another +here, and, for this very reason, what we separate in contemplation all +flows together in life. They, to be sure, who on one of these points +bear the greatest resemblance to one another, will present the +strongest mutual attraction, but they cannot, on that account, compose +an independent whole; for the degrees of this affinity imperceptibly +diminish and increase, and in the midst of so many transitions there +is no absolute repulsion, no total separation, even between the most +discordant elements. Take which you will of these masses which have +assumed an organic form according to their own inherent energy; if +you do not forcibly divide them by a mechanical operation, no one +will exhibit an absolutely distinct and homogeneous character, but the +extreme points of each will be connected at the same time with those +which display different properties and properly belong to another +mass. + +If the pious individuals, who stand on the same degree of a lower +order, form a closer union with one another, there are yet some always +included in the combination who have a presentiment of higher things. +These are better understood by all who belong to a higher social class +than they understand themselves; and there is a point of sympathy +between the two which is concealed only from the latter. If those +combine in whom one of the modes of insight, which I have described, +is predominant, there will always be some among them who understand +at least both of the modes, and since they, in some degree, belong +to both, they form a connecting link between two spheres which would +otherwise be separated. Thus the individual who is more inclined to +cherish a religious connection between himself and nature, is yet by +no means opposed, in the essentials of religion, to him who prefers to +trace the footsteps of the Godhead in history; and there will never be +wanting those who can pursue both paths with equal facility. Thus in +whatever manner you divide the vast province of religion, you will +always come back to the same point. + +If unbounded universality of insight be the first and original +supposition of religion, and hence also, most naturally, its fairest +and ripest fruit, you perceive that it cannot be otherwise than that, +in proportion as an individual advances in religion and the character +of his piety becomes more pure, the whole religious world will +more and more appear to him as an indivisible whole. The spirit of +separation, in proportion as it insists upon a rigid division, is a +proof of imperfection; the highest and most cultivated minds always +perceive a universal connection, and, for the very reason that they +perceive it, they also establish it. Since every one comes in contact +only with his immediate neighbor, but, at the same time, has an +immediate neighbor on all sides and in every direction, he is, in +fact, indissolubly linked in with the whole. Mystics and Naturalists +in religion, they to whom the Godhead is a personal Being, and they +to whom it is not, they who have arrived at a systematic view of +the Universe, and they who behold it only in its elements or only in +obscure chaos--all, notwithstanding, should be only one, for one band +surrounds them all and they can be totally separated only by a violent +and arbitrary force; every specific combination is nothing but an +integral part of the whole; its peculiar characteristics are almost +evanescent, and are gradually lost in outlines that become more and +more indistinct; and at least those who feel themselves thus united +will always be the superior portion. + +Whence, then, but through a total misunderstanding, have arisen that +wild and disgraceful zeal for proselytism to a separate and peculiar +form of religion, and that horrible expression--"no salvation except +with us." As I have described to you the society of the pious, and as +it must needs be according to its intrinsic nature, it aims merely +at reciprocal communication, and subsists only between those who are +already in possession of religion, of whatever character it may be; +how then can it be its vocation to change the sentiments of those +who now acknowledge a definite system, or to introduce and consecrate +those who are totally destitute of one? The religion of this society, +as such, consists only in the religion of all the pious taken +together, as each one beholds it in the rest--it is Infinite; no +single individual can embrace it entirely, since so far as it is +individual it ceases to be one, and hence no man can attain such +elevation and completeness as to raise himself to its level. If any +one, then, has chosen a part in it for himself, whatever it may be, +were it not an absurd procedure for society to wish to deprive him of +that which is adapted to his nature--since it ought to comprise this +also within its limits, and hence some one must needs possess it? + +[Illustration: THE THREE HERMITS Moritz Von Schwind] + +And to what end should it desire to cultivate those who are yet +strangers to religion? Its own especial characteristic--the Infinite +Whole--of course it cannot impart to them; and the communication of +any specific element cannot be accomplished by the Whole, but only by +individuals. But perhaps then, the Universal, the Indeterminate, +which might be presented, when we seek that which is common to all +the members? Yet you are aware that, as a general rule, nothing can be +given or communicated, in the form of the Universal and Indeterminate, +for specific object and precise form are requisite for this purpose; +otherwise, in fact, that which is presented would not be a reality but +a nullity. Such a society, accordingly, can never find a measure or +rule for this undertaking. + +And how could it so far abandon its sphere as to engage in this +enterprise? The need on which it is founded, the essential principle +of religious sociability, points to no such purpose. Individuals unite +with one another and compose a Whole; the Whole rests in itself, +and needs not to strive for anything beyond. Hence, whatever is +accomplished in this way for religion is the private affair of the +individual for himself, and, if I may say so, more in his relations +out of the church than in it. Compelled to descend to the low grounds +of life from the circle of religious communion, where the mutual +existence and life in God afford him the most elevated enjoyment and +where his spirit, penetrated with holy feelings, soars to the highest +summit of consciousness, it is his consolation that he can connect +everything with which he must there be employed, with that which +always retains the deepest significance in his heart. As he descends +from such lofty regions to those whose whole endeavor and pursuit +are limited to earth, he easily believes--and you must pardon him the +feeling--that he has passed from intercourse with Gods and Muses to a +race of coarse barbarians. He feels like a steward of religion among +the unbelieving, a herald of piety among the savages; he hopes, like +an Orpheus or an Amphion, to charm the multitude with his heavenly +tones; he presents himself among them, like a priestly form, clearly +and brightly exhibiting the lofty, spiritual sense which fills his +soul, in all his actions and in the whole compass of his Being. If the +contemplation of the Holy and the Godlike awakens a kindred emotion in +them, how joyfully does he cherish the first presages of religion in +a new heart, as a delightful pledge of its growth even in a harsh and +foreign clime! With what triumph does he bear the neophyte with him to +the exalted assembly! This activity for the promotion of religion is +only the pious yearning of the stranger after his home, the endeavor +to carry his Fatherland with him in all his wanderings, and everywhere +to find again its laws and customs as the highest and most beautiful +elements of his life; but the Fatherland itself, happy in its own +resources, perfectly sufficient for its own wants, knows no such +endeavor. + + + + +_JOHANN GOTTLIEB FICHTE_ + + * * * * * + +THE DESTINY OF MAN (1800) + +ADAPTED FROM THE TRANSLATION BY FREDERIC H. HEDGE + +BOOK III: FAITH + + + * * * * * + +"Not merely to know, but to act according to thy knowledge, is thy +destination." So says the voice which cries to me aloud from my +innermost soul, so soon as I collect and give heed to myself for a +moment. "Not idly to inspect and contemplate thyself, nor to brood +over devout sensations--no! thou existest to act. Thine actions, and +only thine actions, determine thy worth." + + * * * * * + +Shall I refuse obedience to that inward voice? I will not do it. I +will choose voluntarily the destination which the impulse imputes to +me. And I will grasp, together with this determination, the thought of +its reality and truth, and of the reality of all that it presupposes. +I will hold to the viewpoint of natural thinking, which this impulse +assigns to me, and renounce all those morbid speculations and +refinements of the understanding which alone could make me doubt its +truth. I understand thee now, sublime Spirit![2] I have found the +organ with which I grasp this reality, and with it, probably, all +other reality. Knowledge is not that organ. No knowledge can prove +and demonstrate itself. Every knowledge presupposes a higher as its +foundation, and this upward process has no end. It is Faith, that +voluntary reposing in the view which naturally presents +itself, because it is the only one by which we can fulfil our +destination--this it is that first gives assent to knowledge, and +exalts to certainty and conviction what might otherwise be mere +illusion. It is not knowledge, but a determination of the will to +let knowledge pass for valid. I hold fast, then, forever to this +expression. It is not a mere difference of terms, but a real +deep-grounded distinction, exercising a very important influence on +my whole mental disposition. All my conviction is only faith, and is +derived from a disposition of the mind, not from the understanding. + + * * * * * + +There is only one point to which I have to direct incessantly all my +thoughts: What I must do, and how I shall most effectually accomplish +what is required of me. All my thinking must have reference to my +doing--must be considered as means, however remote, to this end. +Otherwise, it is an empty, aimless sport, a waste of time and power, +and perversion of a noble faculty which was given me for a very +different purpose. + +I may hope, I may promise myself with certainty, that when I think +after this manner, my thinking shall be attended with practical +results. Nature, in which I am to act, is not a foreign being, +created without regard to me, into which I can never penetrate. It is +fashioned by the laws of my own thought, and must surely coincide with +them. It must be everywhere transparent, cognizable, permeable to +me, in its innermost recesses. Everywhere it expresses nothing but +relations and references of myself to myself; and as certainly as +I may hope to know myself, so certainly I may promise myself that I +shall be able to explore it. Let me but seek what I have to seek, +and I shall find. Let me but inquire whereof I have to inquire, and I +shall receive answer. + +[Illustration: JOHANN GOTTLIEB FICHTE] + + + + +I + + +That voice in my interior, which I believe, and for the sake of which +I believe all else that I believe, commands me not merely to act in +the abstract. That is impossible. All these general propositions +are formed only by my voluntary attention and reflection directed to +various facts; but they do not express a single fact of themselves. +This voice of my conscience prescribes to me with certainty, in each +particular situation of my existence, what I must do and what I must +avoid in that situation. It accompanies me, if I will but listen to it +with attention, through all the events of my life, and never refuses +its reward where I am called to act. It establishes immediate +conviction, and irresistibly compels my assent. It is impossible for +me to contend against it. + +To harken to that voice, honestly and dispassionately, without +fear and without useless speculation to obey it--this is my sole +destination, this the whole aim of my existence. My life ceases to +be an empty sport, without truth or meaning. There is something to be +done, simply because it must be done--namely, that which conscience +demands of me who find myself in this particular position. I exist +solely in order that it may be fulfilled. To perceive it, I have +understanding; to do it, power. + +Through these commandments of conscience alone come truth and reality +into my conceptions. I cannot refuse attention and obedience to them +without renouncing my destination. I cannot, therefore, withhold my +belief in the reality which they bring before me, without, at the same +time, denying my destination. It is absolutely true, without +further examination and demonstration--it is the first truth and the +foundation of all other truth and certainty--that I must obey that +voice. Consequently, according to this way of thinking, everything +becomes true and real for me which the possibility of such obedience +presupposes. + +There hover before me phenomena in space, to which I transfer the idea +of my own being. I represent them to myself as beings of my own kind. +Consistent speculation has taught me or will teach me that these +supposed rational beings, without me, are only products of my own +conception; that I am necessitated, once for all, by laws of thought +which can be shown to exist, to represent the idea of myself out +of myself, and that, according to the same laws, this idea can be +transferred only to certain definite perceptions. But the voice of +my conscience cries to me: "Whatever these beings may be in and for +themselves, thou shalt treat them as subsisting for themselves, as +free, self-existing beings, entirely independent of thyself. Take +it for granted that they are capable of proposing to themselves aims +independently of thee, by their own power. Never disturb the execution +of these, their designs, but further them rather, with all thy might. +Respect their liberty. Embrace with love their objects as thine +own." So must I act. And to such action shall, will, and must all my +thinking be directed, if I have but formed the purpose to obey the +voice of my conscience. Accordingly, I shall ever consider those +beings as beings subsisting for themselves, and forming and +accomplishing aims independently of me. From this viewpoint, I cannot +consider them in any other light; and the above-mentioned speculation +will vanish like an empty dream before my eyes. "I _think_ of them as +beings of my own species," said I just now; but strictly, it is not a +thought by which they are first represented to me as such. It is the +voice of conscience, the command: "Here restrain thy liberty, +here suppose and respect foreign aims." This it is which is first +translated into the thought: "Here is surely and truly, subsisting +of itself, a being like me." To consider them otherwise, I must first +deny the voice of my conscience in life and forget it in speculation. + +There hover before me other phenomena which I do not consider as +beings like myself, but as irrational objects. Speculation finds it +easy to show how the conception of such objects develops itself purely +from my power of conception and its necessary modes of action. But +I comprehend these same things also through need and craving and +enjoyment. It is not the conception--no, it is hunger and thirst and +the satisfaction of these that makes anything food and drink to me. +Of course, I am constrained to believe in the reality of that which +threatens my sensuous existence, or which alone can preserve it. +Conscience comes in, at once hallowing and limiting this impulse of +Nature. "Thou shalt preserve, exercise and strengthen thyself, and +thy sensuous power; for this sensuous power forms a part of the +calculation, in the plan of reason. But thou canst preserve it only +by a suitable use, agreeable to the peculiar interior laws of such +matters. And, besides thyself, there are also others like thee, whose +powers are calculated upon like thine own, and who can be preserved +only in the same way. Allow to them the same use of their portion +which it is granted thee to make of thine own portion. Respect what +comes to them, as their property. Use what comes to thee in a suitable +manner, as thy property." So must I act, and I must think conformably +to such action. Accordingly, I am necessitated to regard these things +as standing under their own natural laws, independent of me, but which +I am capable of knowing; that is, to ascribe to them an existence +independent of myself. I am constrained to believe in such laws, +and it becomes my business to ascertain them; and empty speculation +vanishes like mist when the warming sun appears. + +In short, there is for me, in general, no pure, naked existence, with +which I have no concern, and which I contemplate solely for the sake +of contemplation. Whatever exists for me, exists only by virtue of +its relation to me. But there is everywhere but one relation to +me possible, and all the rest are but varieties of this, i.e., my +destination as a moral agent. My world is the object and sphere of my +duties, and absolutely nothing else. There is no other world, no other +attributes of my world, for me. My collective capacity and all finite +capacity is insufficient to comprehend any other. Everything which +exists for me forces its existence and its reality upon me, solely by +means of this relation; and only by means of this relation do I grasp +it. There is utterly wanting in me an organ for any other existence. + +To the question whether then in fact such a world exists as I +represent to myself, I can answer nothing certain, nothing which is +raised above all doubt, but this: I have assuredly and truly these +definite duties which represent themselves to me as duties toward such +and such persons, concerning such and such objects. These definite +duties I cannot represent to myself otherwise, nor can I execute +them otherwise, than as lying within the sphere of such a world as I +conceive. Even he who has never thought of his moral destination, if +any such there could be, or who, if he has thought about it at all, +has never entertained the slightest purpose of ever, in the indefinite +future, fulfilling it--even he derives his world of the senses and his +belief in the reality of such a world no otherwise than from his idea +of a moral world. If he does not comprehend it through the idea of his +duties, he certainly does so through the requisition of his rights. +What he does not require of himself he yet requires of others, in +relation to himself--that they treat him with care and consideration, +agreeably to his nature, not as an irrational thing, but as a free and +self-subsisting being. And so he is constrained, in order that they +may comply with this demand, to think of them also as rational, free, +self-subsisting, and independent of the mere force of Nature. And even +though he should never propose to himself any other aim in the use and +fruition of the objects which surround him than that of enjoying them, +he still demands this enjoyment as a right, of which others must leave +him in undisturbed possession. Accordingly, he comprehends even the +irrational world of the senses through a moral idea. No one who lives +a conscious life can renounce these claims to be respected as rational +and self-subsisting. And with these claims at least there is connected +in his soul a seriousness, an abandonment of doubt, a belief in +a reality, if not with the acknowledgment of a moral law in +his innermost being. Do but assail him who denies his own moral +destination and your existence and the existence of a corporeal +world, except in the way of experiment, to try what speculation can +do--assail him actively, carry his principles into life, and act as if +he either did not exist, or as if he were a piece of rude matter, and +he will soon forget the joke; he will become seriously angry with you, +he will seriously reprove you for treating him so, and maintain that +you ought not and must not do so to him; and, in this way, he will +practically admit that you really possess the power of acting upon +him, that he exists, that you exist, and that there exists _a medium +through which you act upon him_; and that you have at least duties +toward him. + +Hence it is not the action of supposed objects without us, which exist +for us only and for which we exist only in so far as we already know +of them; just as little is it an empty fashioning, by means of our +imagination and our thinking, whose products would appear to us as +such, as empty pictures; it is not these, but the necessary faith in +our liberty and our power, in our veritable action and in definite +laws of human action, which serves as the foundation of all +consciousness of a reality without us, a consciousness which is +itself but a belief, since it rests on a belief, but one which follows +necessarily from that belief. We are compelled to assume that we +act in general, and that we ought to act in a certain way; we are +compelled to assume a certain sphere of such action--this sphere being +the truly and actually existing world as we find it. And _vice versa_, +this world is absolutely nothing but that sphere, and by no means +extends beyond it. The consciousness of the actual world proceeds from +the necessity of action, and not the reverse--i.e., the necessity of +action from the consciousness of such a world. The necessity is first +not the consciousness; that is derived. We do not act because we +agnize, but we agnize because we are destined to act. Practical reason +is the root of all reason. The laws of action for rational beings are +_immediately_ certain; their world is certain _only because they are +certain_. Were we to renounce the former, the world, and, with it, +ourselves, we should sink into absolute nothing. We raise ourselves +out of this nothing, and sustain ourselves above this nothing, solely +by means of our morality. + + + + +II + + * * * * * + +When I contemplate the world as it is, independently of any command, +there manifests itself in my interior the wish, the longing, no! not +a longing merely--the absolute demand for a better world. I cast a +glance at the relations of men to one another and to Nature, at the +weakness of their powers, at the strength of their appetites and +passions. It cries to me irresistibly from my innermost soul: "Thus it +cannot possibly be destined always to remain. It must, O it must all +become other and better!" + +I can in no wise imagine to myself the present condition of man as +that which is designed to endure. I cannot imagine it to be his whole +and final destination. If so, then would everything be dream and +delusion, and it would not be worth the trouble to have lived and to +have taken part in this ever-recurring, aimless, and unmeaning game. +Only so far as I can regard this condition as the means of something +better, as a point of transition to a higher and more perfect, does +it acquire any value for me. Not on its own account, but on account of +something better for which it prepares the way, can I bear it, honor +it, and joyfully fulfil my part in it. My mind can find no place, nor +rest a moment, in the present; it is irresistibly repelled by it. My +whole life streams irrepressibly on toward the future and better. + +Am I only to eat and to drink that I may hunger and thirst again, +and again eat and drink, until the grave, yawning beneath my feet, +swallows me up, and I myself spring up as food from the ground? Am I +to beget beings like myself, that they also may eat and drink and die, +and leave behind them beings like themselves, who shall do the same +that I have done? To what purpose this circle which perpetually +returns into itself; this game forever recommencing, after the same +manner, in which everything is born but to perish, and perishes but +to be born again as it was; this monster which forever devours itself +that it may produce itself again, and which produces itself that it +may again devour itself? + +Never can this be the destination of my being and of all being. There +must be something which exists because it has been brought forth, and +which now remains and can never be brought forth again after it has +been brought forth once. And this, that is permanent, must beget +itself amid the mutations of the perishing, and continue amid those +mutations, and be borne along unhurt upon the waves of time. + +As yet our race wrings with difficulty its sustenance and its +continuance from reluctant Nature. As yet the larger portion of +mankind are bowed down their whole life long by hard labor, to procure +sustenance for themselves and the few who think for them. Immortal +spirits are compelled to fix all their thinking and scheming, and +all their efforts, on the soil which bears them nourishment. It often +comes to pass as yet, that when the laborer has ended, and promises +himself, for his pains, the continuance of his own existence and of +those pains, then hostile elements destroy in a moment what he had +been slowly and carefully preparing for years, and delivers up the +industrious painstaking man, without any fault of his own, to +hunger and misery. It often comes to pass as yet, that inundations, +storm-winds, volcanoes, desolate whole countries, and mingle works +which bear the impress of a rational mind, as well as their authors, +with the wild chaos of death and destruction. Diseases still hurry men +into a premature grave, men in the bloom of their powers, and children +whose existence passes away without fruit or result. The pestilence +still stalks through blooming states, leaves the few who escape +it bereaved and alone, deprived of the accustomed aid of their +companions, and does all in its power to give back to the wilderness +the land which the industry of man had already conquered for its own. + +So it is, but so it cannot surely have been intended always to remain. +No work which bears the impress of reason, and which was undertaken +for the purpose of extending the dominion of reason, can be utterly +lost in the progress of the times. The sacrifices which the irregular +violence of Nature draws from reason must at least weary, satisfy, and +reconcile that violence. The force which has caused injury by acting +without rule cannot be intended to do so in that way any longer, it +cannot be destined to renew itself; it must be used up, from this time +forth and forever, by that one outbreak. All those outbreaks of +rude force, before which human power vanishes into nothing--those +desolating hurricanes, earthquakes, volcanoes, can be nothing else but +the final struggle of the wild mass against the lawfully progressive, +life-giving, systematic course to which it is compelled, contrary to +its own impulse. They can be nothing but the last concussive strokes +in the formation of our globe, now about to perfect itself. That +opposition must gradually become weaker and at last exhausted, since, +in the lawful course of things, there can be nothing that should renew +its power. That formation must at last be perfected, and our destined +abode complete. Nature must gradually come into a condition in which +we can count with certainty upon her equal step, and in which her +power shall keep unaltered a definite relation with that power which +is destined to govern it, that is, the human. So far as this relation +already exists and the systematic development of Nature has gained +firm footing, the workmanship of man, by its mere existence and its +effects, independent of any design on the part of the author, is +destined to react upon Nature and to represent in her a new and +life-giving principle. Cultivated lands are to quicken and mitigate +the sluggish, hostile atmosphere of the eternal forests, wildernesses, +and morasses. Well-ordered and diversified culture is to diffuse +through the air a new principle of life and fructification, and the +sun to send forth its most animating beams into that atmosphere which +is breathed by a healthy, industrious, and ingenious people. Science, +awakened, at first, by the pressure of necessity, shall hereafter +penetrate deliberately and calmly into the unchangeable laws of +Nature, overlook her whole power, and learn to calculate her possible +developments--shall form for itself a new Nature in idea, attach +itself closely to the living and active, and follow hard upon her +footsteps. And all knowledge which reason has wrung from Nature shall +be preserved in the course of the times and become the foundation +of further knowledge, for the common understanding of our race. Thus +shall Nature become ever more transparent and penetrable to +human perception, even to its innermost secrets. And human power, +enlightened and fortified with its inventions, shall rule her with +ease and peacefully maintain the conquest once effected. By degrees, +there shall be needed no greater outlay of mechanical labor than the +human body requires for its development, cultivation and health. And +this labor shall cease to be a burden; for the rational being is not +destined to be a bearer of burdens. + +But it is not Nature, it is liberty itself, that occasions the most +numerous and the most fearful disorders among our kind. The direst +enemy of man is man. + + * * * * * + +It is the destination of our race to unite in one body, thoroughly +acquainted with itself in all its parts, and uniformly cultivated in +all. Nature, and even the passions and vices of mankind, have, from +the beginning, drifted toward this goal. A large part of the road +which leads to it is already put behind us, and we may count with +certainty that this goal, which is the condition of further, united +progress, will be reached in due season. Do not ask History whether +mankind, on the whole, have grown more purely moral! They have grown +to extended, comprehensive, forceful acts of arbitrary will; but it +was almost a necessity of their condition that they should direct that +will exclusively to evil. + +Neither ask History whether the esthetic education and the +rationalistic culture of the understanding, of the fore-world, +concentrated upon a few single points, may not have far exceeded, in +degree, that of modern times. It might be that the answer would put +us to shame, and that the human race in growing older would appear, in +this regard, not to have advanced, but to have lost ground. + +But ask History in what period the existing culture was most widely +diffused and distributed among the greatest number of individuals. +Undoubtedly it will be found that, from the beginning of history down +to our own day, the few light-points of culture have extended +their rays farther and farther from their centres, have seized one +individual after another, and one people after another; and that this +diffusion of culture is still going on before our eyes. + +And this was the first goal of Humanity, on its infinite path. Until +this is attained, until the existing culture of an age is diffused +over the whole habitable globe, and our race is made capable of the +most unlimited communication with itself, one nation, one quarter of +the globe, must await the other, on their common path, and each must +bring its centuries of apparent standing still or retrogradation, as +a sacrifice to the common bond, for the sake of which, alone, they +themselves exist. + +When this first goal shall be attained, when everything useful that +has been discovered at one end of the earth shall immediately be +made known and imparted to all, then Humanity, without interruption, +without cessation, and without retrocession, with united force, and +with one step shall raise itself up to a degree of culture which we +lack power to conceive. + + * * * * * + +By the institution of this one true State and the firm establishment +of internal peace, external war also, at least between true +States, will be rendered impossible. Even for the sake of its own +advantage--in order that no thought of injustice, plunder and violence +may spring up in its own subjects, and no possible opportunity be +afforded them for any gain, except by labor and industry, in the +sphere assigned by law--every State must forbid as strictly, must +hinder as carefully, must compensate as exactly, and punish as +severely, an injury done to the citizen of a neighbor-State, as if it +were inflicted upon a fellow-citizen. This law respecting the security +of its neighbors is necessary to every State which is not a community +of robbers. And herewith the possibility of every just complaint of +one State against another, and every case of legitimate defense, are +done away. + +There are no necessarily and continuously direct relations between +States, as such, that could engender warfare. As a general rule, it +is only through the relations of single citizens of one State with the +citizens of another--it is only in the person of one of its members, +that a State can be injured. But this injury will be instantly +redressed, and the offended State satisfied. + + * * * * * + +That a whole nation should determine, for the sake of plunder, to +attack a neighboring country with war, is impossible, since in a State +in which all are equal the plunder would not become the booty of +a few, but must be divided equally among all, and, so divided, the +portion of each individual would never repay him for the trouble of a +war. Only, then, when the advantage to be gained falls to the lot of a +few oppressors, but the disadvantages, the trouble, the cost fall upon +a countless army of slaves--only then is a war of plunder possible or +conceivable. Accordingly, these States have no war to fear from States +like themselves, but only from savages or barbarians, tempted to prey +by want of skill to enrich themselves by industry; or from nations of +slaves, who are driven by their masters to procure plunder, of which +they are to enjoy no part themselves. As to the former, each single +State is undoubtedly superior to them in strength, by virtue of the +arts of culture. As to the latter, the common advantage of all the +States will lead them to strengthen themselves by union with one +another. No free State can reasonably tolerate, in its immediate +vicinity, polities whose rulers find their advantage in subjecting +neighboring nations, and which, therefore, by their mere existence, +perpetually threaten their neighbors' peace. Care for their own +security will oblige all free States to convert all around them into +free States like themselves, and thus, for the sake of their own +safety, to extend the dominion of culture to the savages, and that of +liberty to the slave nations round about them. And so, when once a few +free States have been formed, the empire of culture, of liberty, and, +with that, of universal peace, will gradually embrace the globe. + + * * * * * + +In this only true State, all temptation to evil in general, and even +the possibility of deliberately determining upon an evil act, will be +cut off, and man be persuaded as powerfully as he can be to direct his +will toward good. There is no man who loves evil because it is evil. +He loves in it only the advantages and enjoyments which it promises, +and which, in the present state of Humanity, it, for the most part, +actually affords. As long as this state continues, as long as a price +is set upon vice, a thorough reformation of mankind, in the whole, is +scarcely to be hoped for. But in such a civil Polity as should exist, +such as reason demands, and such as the thinker easily describes, +although as yet he nowhere finds it, and such as will necessarily +shape itself with the first nation that is truly disenthralled--in +such a Polity evil will offer no advantages, but, on the contrary, the +most certain disadvantages; and the aberration of self-love into acts +of injustice will be suppressed by self-love itself. According to +infallible regulations, in such a State, all taking advantage of +and oppressing others, every act of self-aggrandizement at another's +expense is not only sure to be in vain--labor lost--but it reacts upon +the author, and he himself inevitably incurs the evil which he would +inflict upon others. Within his own State and outside of it, on the +whole face of the earth, he finds no one whom he can injure with +impunity. It is not, however, to be expected that any one will resolve +upon evil merely for evil's sake, notwithstanding he cannot accomplish +it and nothing but his own injury can result from the attempt. The +use of liberty for evil ends is done away. Man must either resolve +to renounce his liberty entirely--to become, with patience, a passive +wheel in the great machine of the whole--or he must apply his liberty +to that which is good. + +And thus, then, in a soil so prepared, the good will easily flourish. +When selfish aims no longer divide mankind, and their powers can no +longer be exercised in destroying one another in battle, nothing will +remain to them but to turn their united force against the common and +only adversary which yet remains--resisting, uncultivated Nature. No +longer separated by private ends, they will necessarily unite in one +common end, and there will grow up a body everywhere animated by one +spirit and one love. Every disadvantage of the individual, since it +can no longer be a benefit to any one, becomes an injury to the whole +and to each particular member of the same, and is felt in each member +with equal pain, and with equal activity redressed. Every advance +which one man makes, human nature, in its entirety, makes with him. + +Here, where the petty, narrow self of the person is already +annihilated by the Polity, every one loves every other one as truly as +himself, as a component part of that great _Self_ which alone remains +for him to love, and of which he is nothing but a component part, +which only through the Whole can gain or lose. Here the conflict of +evil with good is done away, for no evil can any longer spring up. +The contest of the good among themselves, even concerning the good, +vanishes, now that it has become easy to them to love the good for its +own sake, and not for their sakes, as the authors of it--now that the +only interest they can have is that it come to pass, that truth +be discovered, that the good deed be executed--not by whom it is +accomplished. Here every one is always prepared to join his power to +that of his neighbor, and to subordinate it to that of his neighbor. +Whoever, in the judgment of all, shall accomplish the best, in the +best way, him all will support and partake with equal joy in his +success. + +This is the aim of earthly existence which Reason sets before us, and +for the sure attainment of which Reason vouches. It is not a goal for +which we are to strive merely that our faculties may be exercised on +something great, but which we must relinquish all hope of realizing. +It shall and must be realized. At some time or other this goal must be +attained, as surely as there is a world of the senses, and a race of +reasonable beings in time, for whom no serious and rational object can +be imagined but this, and whose existence is made intelligible by this +alone. Unless the whole life of man is to be considered as the sport +of an evil Spirit, who implanted this ineradicable striving after +the imperishable in the breasts of poor wretches merely that he might +enjoy their ceaseless struggle after that which unceasingly flees +from them, their still repeated grasping after that which still +eludes their grasp, their restless driving about in an ever-returning +circle--and laugh at their earnestness in this senseless sport--unless +the wise man, who must soon see through this game and be tired of his +own part in it, is to throw away his life, and the moment of awakening +reason is to be the moment of earthly death--that goal must be +attained. O it is attainable in life and by means of life; for Reason +commands me to live. It is attainable, for I am. + + + + +III + +But now, when it is attained, when Humanity shall stand at the +goal--what then? There is no higher condition on earth than that. +The generation which first attains it can do nothing further than to +persist in it, maintain it with all their powers, and die and leave +descendants who shall do the same that they have done, and who, in +their turn, shall leave descendants that shall do the same. Humanity +would then stand still in its course. Therefore its earthly goal +cannot be its highest goal, for this earthly goal is intelligible, and +attainable, and finite. Though we consider the preceding generations +as means of developing the last and perfected, still we cannot escape +the inquiry of earnest Reason: "Wherefore then these last?" Given a +human race on the earth, its existence must indeed be in accordance +with Reason, and not contrary to it. It must become all that it can +become on earth. But why should it exist at all--this human race? Why +might it not as well have remained in the womb of the Nothing? Reason +is not for the sake of existence, but existence for the sake of +Reason. An existence which does not, in itself, satisfy Reason and +solve all her questions, cannot possibly be the true one. + +Then, too, are the actions commanded by the voice of Conscience, whose +dictates I must not speculate about, but obey in silence--are they +actually the means, and the only means, of accomplishing the earthly +aim of mankind? That I cannot refer them to any other object but this, +that I can have no other intent with them, is unquestionable. But is +this, my intent, fulfilled in every case? Is nothing more needed but +to will the best, in order that it may be accomplished? Alas! most of +our good purposes are, for this world, entirely lost, and some of +them seem even to have an entirely opposite effect to that which was +proposed. On the other hand, the most despicable passions of men, +their vices and their misdeeds, seem often to bring about the good +more surely than the labors of the just man, who never consents to do +evil that good may come. It would seem that the highest good of the +world grows and thrives quite independently of all human virtues or +vices, according to laws of its own, by some invisible and unknown +power, just as the heavenly bodies run through their appointed course, +independently of all human effort; and that this power absorbs into +its own higher plan all human designs, whether good or ill, and, +by its superior strength, appropriates what was intended for other +purposes to its own ends. + +If, therefore, the attainment of that earthly goal could be the design +of our existence, and if no further question concerning it remained +to Reason, that aim, at least, would not be ours, but the aim of that +unknown Power. We know not at any moment what may promote it. Nothing +would be left us but to supply to that Power, by our actions, so much +material, no matter what, to work up in its own way, for its own ends. +Our highest wisdom would be, not to trouble ourselves about things +in which we have no concern, but to live, in each case, as the fancy +takes us, and quietly leave the consequences to that Power. The moral +law within us would be idle and superfluous, and wholly unsuited to a +being that had no higher capacity and no higher destination. In order +to be at one with ourselves, we should refuse obedience to the voice +of that law and suppress it as a perverse and mad enthusiasm. + + * * * * * + +If the whole design of our existence were to bring about a purely +earthly condition of our race, all that would be required would be +some infallible mechanism to direct our action; and we need be nothing +more than wheels well fitted to the whole machine. Freedom would then +not only be useless, but even contrary to the purpose of existence; +and good-will would be quite superfluous. The world, in that case, +would be very clumsily contrived--would proceed to its goal with waste +of power and by circuitous paths. Rather, mighty World-Spirit, hadst +thou taken from us this freedom, which, only with difficulty and by a +different arrangement, thou canst fit to thy plans, and compelled us +at once to act as those plans required! Thou wouldst then arrive at +thy goal by the shortest road, as the meanest of the inhabitants of +thy worlds can tell thee. + +But I am free, and therefore such a concatenation of cause and effect, +in which freedom is absolutely superfluous and useless, cannot exhaust +my whole destination. I must be free; for not the mechanical act, but +the free determination of free-will, for the sake of the command +alone and absolutely for no other purpose (so says the inward voice of +conscience)--this alone determines our true worth. The band with which +the law binds me is a band for living spirits. It scorns to rule +over dead mechanism, and applies itself alone to the living and +self-acting. Such obedience it demands. This obedience cannot be +superfluous. + +And, herewith, the eternal world rises more brightly before me, and +the fundamental law of its order stands clear before the eye of my +mind. In that world the _will_, purely and only, as it lies, locked up +from all eyes, in the secret dark of my soul, is the first link in a +chain of consequences which runs through the whole invisible world +of spirits; so in the earthly world the _deed_, a certain movement +of matter, becomes the first link in a material chain which extends +through the whole system of matter. The will is the working and living +principle in the world of Reason, as motion is the working and living +principle in the world of the senses. I stand in the centre of two +opposite worlds, a visible in which the deed, and an invisible, +altogether incomprehensible, in which the will, decides. I am one +of the original forces for both these worlds. My will is that which +embraces both. This will is in and of itself a constituent portion of +the supersensuous world. When I put it in motion by a resolution, I +move and change something in that world, and my activity flows on over +the whole and produces something new and ever-during which then exists +and needs not to be made anew. This will breaks forth into a material +act, and this act belongs to the world of the senses, and effects, in +that, what it can. + +I have not to wait until after I am divorced from the connection +of the earthly world to gain admission into that which is above +the earth. I am and live in it already, far more truly than in the +earthly. Even now it is my only firm standing-ground, and the eternal +life, which I have long since taken possession of, is the only +reason why I am willing still to prolong the earthly. That which +they denominate Heaven lies not beyond the grave. It is already here, +diffused around our Nature, and its light arises in every pure heart. +My will is mine, and it is the only thing that is entirely mine and +depends entirely upon myself. By it I am already a citizen of the +kingdom of liberty and of self-active Reason. My conscience, the tie +by which that world holds me unceasingly and binds me to itself, tells +me at every moment what determination of my will (the only thing +by which, here in the dust, I can lay hold of that kingdom) is most +consonant with its order; and it depends entirely upon myself to give +myself the destination enjoined upon me. I cultivate myself then for +this world, and, accordingly, work in it and for it, while cultivating +one of its members. I pursue in it, and in it alone, without +vacillation or doubt, according to fixed rules, my aim--sure of +success, since there is no foreign power that opposes my intent. + + * * * * * + +That our good-will, in and for and through itself, must have +consequences, we know, even in this life; for Reason cannot require +anything without a purpose. But what these consequences are--nay, how +it is possible that a mere will can effect anything--is a question to +which we cannot even imagine a solution, so long as we are entangled +with this material world, and it is the part of wisdom not to +undertake an inquiry concerning which, we know beforehand, it must be +unsuccessful. + + * * * * * + +This then is my whole sublime destination, my true essence. I am a +member of two systems--a purely spiritual one, in which I rule by pure +will alone; and a sensuous one, in which I work by my deed. + + * * * * * + +These two systems, the purely spiritual and the sensuous--which last +may consist of an immeasurable series of particular lives--exist in +me from the moment in which my active reason is developed, and pursue +their parallel courses. The latter system is only an appearance, for +me and for those who share with me the same life. The former alone +gives to the latter meaning, and purpose, and value. I _am_ immortal, +imperishable, eternal, so soon as I form the resolution to obey the +law of Reason; and do not first have to _become_ so. The supersensuous +world is not a future world; it is present. It never can be more +present at any one point of finite existence than at any other point. +After an existence of myriad lives, it cannot be more present than at +this moment. Other conditions of my sensuous existence are to come; +but these are no more the true life than the present condition. By +means of that resolution I lay hold on eternity, and strip off this +life in the dust and all other sensuous lives that may await me, and +raise myself far above them. I become to myself the sole fountain +of all my being and of all my phenomena; and have henceforth, +unconditioned by aught without me, life in myself. My will, which +I myself, and no stranger, fit to the order of that world, is this +fountain of true life and of eternity. + +But only my will is this fountain; and only when I acknowledge this +will to be the true seat of moral excellence, and actually elevate it +to this excellence, do I attain to the certainty and the possession of +that supersensuous world. + + * * * * * + +The sense by which we lay hold on eternal life we acquire only by +renouncing and offering up sense, and the aims of sense, to the law +which claims our will alone, and not our acts--by renouncing it with +the conviction that to do so is reasonable and alone reasonable. With +this renunciation of the earthly, the belief in the eternal first +enters our soul and stands isolated there, as the only stay by which +we can still sustain ourselves when we have relinquished everything +else, as the only animating principle that still uplifts our hearts +and still inspires our life. Well was it said, in the metaphors of +a sacred doctrine, that man must first die to the world and be born +again, in order to enter into the kingdom of God. + +I see, oh, I see now, clear before mine eyes, the cause of my former +heedlessness and blindness concerning spiritual things! Filled with +earthly aims, and lost in them with all my scheming and striving; put +in motion and impelled only by the idea of a result, which is to be +actualized without us, by the desire of such a result and pleasure in +it--insensible and dead to the pure impulse of that Reason which gives +the law to itself, which sets before us a purely spiritual aim, the +immortal Psyche remains chained to the earth; her wings are bound. Our +philosophy becomes the history of our own heart and life. As we find +ourselves, so we imagine man in general and his destination. Never +impelled by any other motive than the desire of that which can be +realized in this world, there is no true liberty for us, no liberty +which has the reason for its destination absolutely and entirely in +itself. Our liberty, at the utmost, is that of the self-forming +plant, no higher in its essence, only more curious in its result, not +producing a form of matter with roots, leaves and blossoms, but a form +of mind with impulses, thoughts, actions. Of the true liberty we +are positively unable to comprehend anything, because we are not in +possession of it. Whenever we hear it spoken of, we draw the words +down to our own meaning, or briefly dismiss it with a sneer, as +nonsense. With the knowledge of liberty, the sense of another world +is also lost to us. Everything of this sort floats by like words which +are not addressed to us; like an ash-gray shadow without color or +meaning, which we cannot by any end take hold of and retain. Without +the least interest, we let everything go as it is stated. Or if ever +a robuster zeal impels us to consider it seriously, we see clearly and +can demonstrate that all those ideas are untenable, hollow visions, +which a man of sense casts from him. And, according to the premises +from which we set out and which are taken from our own innermost +experience, we are quite right, and are alike unanswerable and +unteachable, so long as we remain what we are. The excellent doctrines +which are current among the people, fortified with special authority, +concerning freedom, duty and eternal life, change themselves for us +into grotesque fables, like those of Tartarus and the Elysian fields, +although we do not disclose the true opinion of our hearts, because we +think it more advisable to keep the people in outward decency by means +of these images. Or if we are less reflective, and ourselves fettered +by the bands of authority, then we sink, ourselves, to the true +plebeian level, by believing that which, so understood, would be +foolish fable; and by finding, in those purely spiritual indications, +nothing but the promise of a continuance, to all eternity, of the same +miserable existence which we lead here below. + +To say all in a word: Only through a radical reformation of my will +does a new light arise upon my being and destination. Without this, +however much I may reflect, and however distinguished my mental +endowments, there is nothing but darkness in me and around me. The +reformation of the heart alone conducts to true wisdom. So then, let +my whole life be directed unrestrainedly toward this one end! + + + + +IV + +My lawful will, simply as such, in and through itself, must +have consequences, certain and without exception. Every dutiful +determination of my will, although no act should flow from it, must +operate in another, to me incomprehensible, world; and, except this +dutiful determination of the will, nothing can take effect in that +world. What do I suppose when I suppose this? What do I take for +granted? + +Evidently, a law, a rule absolutely and without exception valid, +according to which the dutiful will must have consequences. Just as in +the earthly world which environs me, I assume a law according to which +this ball, when impelled by my hand with this given force, in this +given direction, must necessarily move in such a direction, with a +determinate measure of rapidity, perhaps impel another ball with +this given degree of force by which the other ball moves on with a +determinate rapidity; and so on indefinitely. As in this case, with +the mere direction and movement of my hand, I know and comprehend all +the directions and movements which shall follow it, as certainly as if +they were already present and perceived by me; even so I comprise, in +my dutiful will, a series of necessary and infallible consequences +in the spiritual world, as if they were already present, only that I +cannot, as in the material world, determine them--i.e., I merely know +that they shall be, not how they shall be. I suppose a law of the +spiritual world, in which my mere will is one of the moving forces, +just as my hand is one of the moving forces in the material world. +That firmness of my confidence and the thought of this law of a +spiritual world are one and the same thing--not two thoughts of which +one is the consequence of the other, but precisely the same thought, +just as the certainty with which I count upon a certain motion, and +the thought of a mechanical law of Nature, are the same. The idea +of _Law_ expresses generally nothing else but the fixed, immovable +reliance of Reason on a proposition, and the impossibility of +supposing the contrary. + +I assume such a law of a spiritual world, which my own will did not +enact, nor the will of any finite being, nor the will of all finite +beings together, but to which my will and the will of all finite +beings is subject. + + * * * * * + +Agreeably to what has now been advanced, the law of the supersensuous +world should be a _Will_. + +A Will which acts purely and simply as will, by its own agency, +entirely without any instrument or sensuous medium of its efficacy; +which is absolutely, in itself, at once action and result; which +wills and it is done, which commands and it stands fast; in +which, accordingly, the demand of Reason to be absolutely free and +self-active is represented. A Will which is law in itself; which +determines itself, not according to humor and caprice, not after +previous deliberation, vacillation and doubt, but which is forever and +unchangeably determined, and upon which one may reckon with infallible +security, as the mortal reckons securely on the laws of his world. +A Will in which the lawful will of finite beings has inevitable +consequences, but only their will, which is immovable to everything +else, and for which everything else is as though it were not. + +That sublime Will, therefore, does not pursue its course for itself, +apart from the rest of Reason's world. There is between it and all +finite, rational beings, a spiritual tie, and that Will itself is +this spiritual tie of Reason's world. I will, purely and decidedly, my +duty, and it then wills that I shall succeed, at least in the world of +spirits. Every lawful resolve of the finite will enters into it, +and moves and determines it--to speak after our fashion--not in +consequence of a momentary good pleasure, but in consequence of the +eternal law of its being. + +With astounding clearness it now stands before my soul, the thought +which hitherto had been wrapped in darkness--the thought that my will, +merely as such, and of itself, has consequences. It has consequences +because it is infallibly and immediately taken knowledge of by another +related Will, which is itself an act and the only life-principle of +the spiritual world. In that Will it has its first consequence, and +only through that, in the rest of the spiritual world which, in all +its parts, is but the product of that infinite Will. + +Thus I flow--the mortal must use the language of mortals--thus I flow +in upon that Will; and the voice of conscience in my inmost being, +which, in every situation of my life, instructs me what I have to do +in that situation, is that by means of which it, in turn, flows +in upon me. That voice is the oracle from the eternal world, made +sensible by my environment, and translated, by my reception of it, +into my language; which announces to me how I must fit myself to my +part in the order of the spiritual world, or to the infinite Will, +which itself is the order of that spiritual world. I cannot oversee or +see through this spiritual order; nor need I. I am only a link in its +chain, and can no more judge of the whole than a single tone in a song +can judge of the harmony of the whole. But what I myself should be, in +the harmony of Spirits, I must know; for only I myself can make myself +that, and it is immediately revealed to me by a voice which sounds +over to me from that world. Thus I stand in connection with the only +being that _exists_, and partake of its being. There is nothing truly +real, permanent, imperishable in me, but these two--the voice of my +conscience and my free obedience. By means of the first, the spiritual +world bows down to me and embraces me, as one of its members. By means +of the second, I raise myself into this world, lay hold of it, and +work in it. But that infinite Will is the mediator between it and me; +for, of it and me, that Will is the primal fountain. This is the only +true and imperishable reality, toward which my soul moves from its +inmost depth. All else is only phenomenon, and vanishes and returns +again, with new seeming. + +This Will connects me with itself. The same connects me with all +finite beings of my species, and is the universal mediator between +us all. That is the great mystery of the invisible world, and +its fundamental law, so far as it is a world or system of several +individual wills: _Union and direct reciprocal action of several +self-subsisting and independent wills among one another_--a mystery +which, even in the present life, lies clear before all eyes, without +any one's noticing it or thinking it worthy his admiration! The voice +of Conscience, which enjoins upon each one his proper duty, is the ray +by which we proceed from the Infinite and are set forth as individual +particular beings. It defines the boundaries of our personality; it +is, therefore, our true original constituent, the foundation and the +stuff of all the life which we live. + + * * * * * + +That eternal Will, then, is indeed world-creator, as he alone can +be--in the finite reason (the only creation which is needed). They who +suppose him to build a world out of eternal inert matter, which world, +in that case, could be nothing else but inert and lifeless, like +implements fashioned by human hands and not an eternal process of +self-development, or who think they can imagine the going forth of a +material something out of nothing, know neither the world nor him. If +matter only is something, then there is nowhere anything, and nowhere, +in all eternity, can anything be. Only Reason _is_: the infinite +reason in itself, and the finite in and through the infinite. Only in +our minds does he create the world, or, at least, that from which we +unfold it, and that whereby we unfold it--the call to duty, and the +feelings, perceptions and laws of thought agreeing therewith. It is +_his_ light whereby we see light and all that appears to us in that +light. In our minds he is continually fashioning this world, and +interposing in it by interposing in our minds with the call of duty, +whenever another free agent effects a change therein. In our minds he +maintains this world, and, therewith, our finite existence, of which +alone we are capable, in that he causes to arise out of our states new +states continually. After he has proved us sufficiently for our next +destination, according to his higher aim, and when we shall have +cultivated ourselves for the same, he will annihilate this world for +us by what we call death, and introduce us into a new one, the product +of our dutiful action in this. All our life is his life. We are in +his hand, and remain in it, and no one can pluck us out of it. We are +eternal because he is eternal. + +Sublime, living Will, whom no name can name, and whom no conception +can grasp!--well may I raise my mind to thee, for thou and I are not +divided. Thy voice sounds in me, and mine sounds back in thee; and all +my thoughts, if only they are true and good, are thought in thee. In +thee, the Incomprehensible, I become comprehensible to myself, and +entirely comprehend the world. All the riddles of my existence are +solved, and the most perfect harmony arises in my mind. + +Thou art best apprehended by childlike simplicity, devoted to thee. +To it thou art the heart-searcher who lookest through its innermost +thoughts; the all-present, faithful witness of its sentiments, who +alone knowest that it meaneth well, and who alone understandest it, +when misunderstood by all the world. Thou art to it a Father, whose +purposes toward it are ever kind, and who will order everything for +its best good. It submitteth itself wholly, with body and soul, to thy +beneficent decrees. Do with me as thou wilt, it saith, I know that it +shall be good, so surely as it is thou that dost it. The speculative +understanding, which has only heard of thee but has never seen thee, +would teach us to know thy being in itself, and sets before us an +inconsistent monster which it gives out for thine image, ridiculous to +the merely knowing, hateful and detestable to the wise and good. + +I veil my face before thee and lay my hand upon my mouth. How thou art +in thyself, and how thou appearest to thyself, I can never know, +as surely as I can never be thou. After thousand times thousand +spirit-lives lived through, I shall no more be able to comprehend thee +than now, in this hut of earth. That which I comprehend becomes, by my +comprehension of it, finite; and this can never, by an endless process +of magnifying and exalting, be changed into infinite. Thou differest +from the finite, not only in degree but in kind. By that magnifying +process they make thee only a greater and still greater man, but never +God, the Infinite, incapable of measure. + + * * * * * + +I will not attempt that which is denied to me by my finite nature, +and which could avail me nothing. I desire not to know how thou art +in thyself. But thy relations and connections with me, the finite, +and with all finite beings, lie open to mine eye, when I become what +I should be. They encompass me with a more luminous clearness than the +consciousness of my own being. Thou workest in me the knowledge of my +duty, of my destination in the series of rational beings. How? I know +not, and need not to know. Thou knowest and perceivest what I think +and will. How thou canst know it--by what act thou bringest this +consciousness to pass--on that point I comprehend nothing. Yea, I know +very well that the idea of an act, of a special act of consciousness, +applies only to me but not to thee, the Infinite. Thou willest, +because thou willest, that my free obedience shall have consequences +in all eternity. The act of thy will I cannot comprehend; I only know +that it is not like to mine. Thou _doest_, and thy will itself is +deed. But thy method of action is directly contrary to that of which, +alone, I can form a conception. Thou _livest_ and _art_, for thou +knowest, and willest, and workest, omnipresent to finite Reason. But +thou art not such as through all eternity I shall alone be able to +conceive of Being. + +In the contemplation of these thy relations to me, the finite, I will +be calm and blessed. I know immediately, only what I must do. This +will I perform undisturbed and joyful, and without philosophizing. +For it is thy voice which commands me, it is the ordination of the +spiritual world-plan concerning me, and the power by which I perform +it is thy power. Whatsoever is commanded me by that voice, whatsoever +is accomplished by this power, is surely and truly good in relation to +that plan. I am calm in all the events of this world, for they occur +in thy world. Nothing can deceive, or surprise, or make me afraid, so +surely as thou livest and I behold thy life. For in thee and through +thee, O infinite One, I behold even my present world in another light! +Nature and natural consequences in the destinies and actions of free +beings, in view of thee, are empty, unmeaning words. There is no +Nature more. Thou, thou alone, art. + +It no longer appears to me the aim of the present world that the +above-mentioned state of universal peace among men, and of their +unconditioned empire over the mechanism of Nature, should be brought +about merely that it may exist, but that it should be brought about +by man himself, and, since it is calculated for all, then it should be +brought about by all, as one great, free, moral community. Nothing +new and better for the individual, except through his dutiful will, +nothing new and better for the community, except through their united, +dutiful will, is the fundamental law of the great moral kingdom of +which the present life is a part. + +The reason why the good-will of the individual is so often lost for +this world, is that it is only the will of the individual, and that +the will of the majority does not coincide with it; therefore it has +no consequences but those which belong to a future world. Hence, even +the passions and vices of men appear to cooeperate in the promotion of +a better state, _not in and for themselves_--in this sense good can +never come out of evil--but by furnishing a counter-poise to opposite +vices, and finally annihilating those vices and themselves by their +preponderance. Oppression could never have gained the upper hand +unless cowardice, and baseness, and mutual distrust had prepared the +way for it. It will continue to increase until it eradicates cowardice +and the slavish mind; and despair re-awakens the courage that was +lost. Then the two antagonistic vices will have destroyed each other, +and the noblest in all human relations, permanent freedom, will have +come forth from them. + +The actions of free beings have, strictly speaking, no other +consequences than those which affect other free beings. For only in +such, and for such, does a world exist; and that, wherein all agree, +is the world. But they have consequences in free agents only by +means of the infinite Will, by which all individuals exist. A call, a +revelation of that Will to us, is always a requirement to perform some +particular duty. Hence, even that which we call evil in the world, the +consequence of the abuse of freedom, exists only through _him_; and it +exists for all, for whom it exists, only so far as it imposes duties +upon them. Did it not fall within the eternal plan of our moral +education and the education of our whole race that precisely these +duties should be laid upon us, they would not have been imposed; and +that whereby they are imposed, and which we call evil, would never +have been. In this view, everything which takes place is good, and +absolutely accordant with the best ends. There is but one world +possible--a thoroughly good one. Everything that occurs in this world +conduces to the reformation and education of man, and, by means of +that, to the furtherance of his earthly destination. + +It is this higher world-plan that we call Nature, when we say Nature +leads men through want to industry, through the evils of general +disorder to a righteous polity, through the miseries of their +perpetual wars to final, ever-during peace. Thy will, O Infinite, thy +providence alone, is this higher Nature! This too is best understood +by artless simplicity, which regards this life as a place of +discipline and education, as a school for eternity; which, in all +the fortunes it experiences, the most trivial as well as the most +momentous, beholds thy ordinations designed for good; and which firmly +believes that all things will work together for good to those who love +their duty and know thee. + +O truly have I spent the former days of my life in darkness! Truly +have I heaped errors upon errors, and thought myself wise! Now only +out of thy mouth, wondrous Spirit, I fully understand the doctrine +which seemed so strange to me![3] although my understanding had +nothing to oppose to it. For now only I overlook it, in its whole +extent, in its deepest meaning, and in all its consequences. + +Man is not a product of the world of the senses; and the end of his +existence can never be attained in that world. His destination lies +beyond time and space and all that pertains to the senses. He must +know what he is and what he is to make himself. As his destination +is sublime, so his thought must be able to lift itself above all the +bounds of the senses. This must be his calling. Where his being is +indigenous, there his thought must be indigenous also; and the most +truly human view, that which alone befits him, that in which his whole +power of thought is represented, is the view by which he lifts himself +above those limits, by which all that is of the senses is changed for +him into pure nothing, a mere reflection in mortal eyes of the alone +enduring, non-sensuous. + +Many have been elevated to this view without scientific thought, +simply by their great heart and their pure moral instinct; because +they lived especially with the heart, and in the sentiments. They +denied, by their conduct, the efficacy and reality of the world of +the senses; and in the shaping of their purposes and measures, they +esteemed as nothing that concerning which they had not yet learned by +thinking that it is nothing, even to thought. They who could say, "our +citizenship is in heaven; we have here no permanent place, but seek +one to come;" they whose first principle was, to die to the world and +to be born anew, and, even here, to enter into another life--they, +truly, placed not the slightest value upon all the objects of sense, +and were, to use the language of the School, practical transcendental +Idealists. + +Others who, in addition to the sensuous activity which is native to +us all, have, by their thought, confirmed themselves in the sensuous, +become implicated, and, as it were, grown together with it; they can +raise themselves permanently and perfectly above the sensuous only by +continuing and carrying out their thought. Otherwise, with the +purest moral intentions, they will still be drawn down again by their +understanding, and their whole being will remain a continued and +insoluble contradiction. For such, that philosophy, which I now first +entirely understand, is the power by which Psyche first strips off her +chrysalis, unfolds the wings on which she then hovers above herself, +and casts one glance on the slough she has dropped, thenceforth to +live and work in higher spheres. + +Blessed be the hour in which I resolved to meditate on myself and my +destination! All my questions are solved. I know what I can know, +and I am without anxiety concerning that which I cannot know. I am +satisfied. There is perfect harmony and clearness in my spirit, and a +new and more glorious existence for that spirit begins. + +My whole, complete destination, I do not comprehend. What I am +called to be and shall be, surpasses all my thought. A part of this +destination is yet hidden to me, visible only to him, the Father of +Spirits, to whom it is committed. I know only that it is secured to +me, and that it is eternal and glorious as himself. But that portion +of it which is committed to me, I know. I know it entirely, and it +is the root of all my other knowledge. I know, in every moment of my +life, with certainty, what I am to do in that moment. And this is my +whole destination, so far as it depends upon me. From this, since my +knowledge goes no farther, I must not depart. I must not desire to +know anything beyond it. I must stand fast in this one centre, and +take root in it. All my scheming and striving, and all my faculty, +must be directed to that. My whole existence must inweave itself with +it. + + * * * * * + +I raise myself to this viewpoint, and am a new creature. My whole +relation to the existing world is changed. The threads by which my +mind was heretofore bound to this world, and by whose mysterious +traction it followed all the movements of this world, are forever +severed, and I stand free--myself, my own world, peaceful and unmoved. +No longer with the heart, with the eye alone, I seize the objects +about me, and, through the eye alone, am connected with them. And this +eye itself, made clearer by freedom, looks through error and deformity +to the true and the beautiful; as, on the unmoved surface of the +water, forms mirror themselves pure and with a softened light. + +My mind is forever closed against embarrassment and confusion, against +doubt and anxiety; my heart is forever closed against sorrow, and +remorse, and desire. There is but one thing that I care to know: What +I must do; and this I know, infallibly, always. Concerning all besides +I know nothing, and I know that I know nothing; and I root myself fast +in this my ignorance, and forbear to conjecture, to opine, to quarrel +with myself concerning that of which I know nothing. No event in this +world can move me to joy, and none to sorrow. Cold and unmoved I look +down upon them all; for I know that I cannot interpret one of them, +nor discern its connection with that which is my only concern. +Everything which takes place belongs to the plan of the eternal world, +and is good in relation to that plan; so much I know. But what, in +that plan, is pure gain, and what is only meant to remove existing +evil, accordingly what I should most or least rejoice in, I know not. +In his world everything succeeds. This suffices me, and in this faith +I stand firm as a rock. But what in his world is only germ, what +blossom, what the fruit itself, I know not. The only thing which can +interest me is the progress of reason and morality in the kingdom of +rational beings--and that purely for its own sake, for the sake of the +progress. Whether _I_ am the instrument of this progress or another, +whether it is my act which succeeds or is thwarted, or whether it is +the act of another, is altogether indifferent to me. I regard myself +in every case but as one of the instruments of a rational design, and +I honor and love myself, and am interested in myself, only as such; +and I wish the success of my act only so far as it goes to accomplish +that end. Therefore I regard all the events of this world in the same +manner and only with exclusive reference to this one end--whether +they proceed from me or from another, whether they relate to me +immediately, or to others. My breast is closed against all vexation +on account of personal mortifications and affronts, against all +exaltation on account of personal merits; for my entire personality +has long since vanished and been swallowed up in the contemplation of +the end. + + * * * * * + +Bodily sufferings, pain and sickness, should such befal me, I cannot +avoid to feel, for they are events of my nature, and I am and remain +nature here below. But they shall not trouble me. They affect only the +Nature with which I am, in some strange way, connected; not myself, +the being which is elevated above all Nature. The sure end of all +pain, and of all susceptibility of pain, is death; and of all which +the natural man is accustomed to regard as evil, this is the least so +to me. Indeed, I shall not die for myself, but only for others, for +those that remain behind, from whose connection I am severed. For +myself, the hour of death is the hour of birth to a new and more +glorious life. + +Since my heart is thus closed to all desire for the earthly, since, +in fact, I have no longer any heart for the perishable, the universe +appears to my eye in a transfigured form. The dead inert mass which +but choked up space has vanished; and, instead thereof, flows, and +waves, and rushes the eternal stream of life, and power, and deed--of +the original life, of thy life, O Infinite! For all life is thy life, +and only the religious eye pierces to the kingdom of veritable beauty. + +I am related to thee, and all that I behold around me is related +to me. All is quick, all is soul, and gazes upon me with bright +spirit-eyes, and speaks in spirit-tones to my heart. Most diversely +sundered and severed, I behold, in all the forms without me, myself +again, and beam upon myself from them, as the morning sun, in thousand +dew-drops diversely refracted, glitters back toward itself. + +Thy life, as the finite being can apprehend it, is volition which +shapes and represents itself by means of itself alone. This life, made +sensible in various ways to mortal eyes, flows through me and from me +downward, through the immeasurable whole of Nature. Here it streams, +as self-creating, self-fashioning matter, through my veins and +muscles, and deposits its fulness outside of me, in the tree, in +the plant, in the grass. As one connected stream, drop by drop, the +forming life flows in all shapes and on all sides, wherever my eye can +follow it, and looks upon me, from every point of the universe, with +a different aspect, as the same force which fashions my own body in +darkness and in secret. Yonder it waves free, and leaps and dances as +self-forming motion in the brute; and, in every new body, represents +itself as another separate, self-subsisting world--the same power +which, invisible to me, stirs and moves in my own members. All that +lives follows this universal current, this one principle of all +movement, which transmits the harmonious concussion from one end of +the universe to the other. The brute follows it without freedom. +I, from whom, in the visible world, the movement proceeds (without, +therefore, originating in me), follow it freely. + +But, pure and holy, and near to thine own essence as aught, to mortal +apprehension, can be, this thy life flows forth as a band which binds +spirits with spirits in one, as air and ether of the one world of +Reason, inconceivable and incomprehensible, and yet lying plainly +revealed to the spiritual eye. Conducted by this light-stream, thought +floats unrestrained and the same from soul to soul, and returns purer +and transfigured from the kindred breast. Through this mystery the +individual finds, and understands, and loves himself, only in another; +and every spirit detaches itself only from other spirits; and there +is no man, but only a Humanity; no isolated thinking, and loving, and +hating, but only a thinking, and loving, and hating in and through +one another. Through this mystery the affinity of spirits, in the +invisible world, streams forth into their corporeal nature, and +represents itself in two sexes, which, though every spiritual band +could be severed, are still constrained, as natural beings, to love +each other. It flows forth into the affection of parents and children, +of brothers and sisters, as if the souls were sprung from one blood as +well as the bodies--as if the minds were branches and blossoms of the +same stem; and from thence it embraces, in narrower or wider circles, +the whole sentient world. Even the hatred of spirits is grounded in +thirst for love; and no enmity springs up, except from friendship +denied. + +Mine eye discerns this eternal life and motion, in all the veins of +sensuous and spiritual Nature, through what seems to others a dead +mass. And it sees this life forever ascend, and grow, and transfigure +itself into a more spiritual expression of its own nature. The +universe is no longer, to me, that circle which returns into itself, +that game which repeats itself without ceasing, that monster which +devours itself in order to reproduce itself as it was before. It is +spiritualized to my contemplation, and bears the peculiar impress of +the spirit--continual progress toward perfection, in a straight line +which stretches into infinity. + +The sun rises and sets, the stars vanish and return again, and all the +spheres hold their cycle-dance. But they never return precisely such +as they disappeared; and in the shining fountains of life there is +also life and progress. Every hour which they bring, every morning and +every evening, sinks down with new blessings on the world. New life +and new love drop from the spheres, as dew-drops from the cloud, and +embrace Nature, as the cool night embraces the earth. + +All death in Nature is birth; and precisely in dying the sublimation +of life appears most conspicuous. There is no death-bringing principle +in Nature, for Nature is only life, throughout. Not death kills, but +the more living life, which, hidden behind the old, begins and unfolds +itself. Death and birth are only the struggle of life with itself to +manifest itself in ever more transfigured form, more like itself. + +And _my_ death--can that be anything different from this?--I, who am +not a mere representation and copy of life, but who bear within myself +the original, the alone true and essential life! It is not a possible +thought that Nature should annihilate a life which did not spring from +her--Nature, which exists only for my sake, not I for hers. + +But even my natural life, even this mere representation of an inward +invisible life to mortal eyes, Nature cannot annihilate; otherwise she +must be able to annihilate herself--she who exists only for me and for +my sake, and who ceases to exist, if I am not. Even because she puts +me to death she must quicken me anew. It can be only my higher life, +unfolding itself in her, before which my present life disappears; and +that which mortals call death is the visible appearing of a second +vivification. Did no rational being, who has once beheld its light, +perish from the earth, there would be no reason to expect a new heaven +and a new earth. The only possible aim of Nature, that of representing +and maintaining Reason, would have been already fulfilled here below, +and her circle would be complete. But the act by which she puts to +death a free, self-subsisting being, is her solemn--to all Reason +apparent--transcending of that act, and of the entire sphere which she +thereby closes. The apparition of death is the conductor by which my +spiritual eye passes over to the new life of myself, and of a Nature +for me. + +Every one of my kind who passes from earthly connections, and who +cannot, to my spirit, seem annihilated, because he is one of my kind, +draws my thought over with him. He still is, and to him belongs a +place. + +While we, here below, sorrow for him with such sorrow as would be +felt, if possible, in the dull kingdom of unconsciousness, when a +human being withdraws himself from thence to the light of earth's +sun--while we so mourn, on yonder side there is joy because a man is +born into their world; as we citizens of earth receive with joy our +own. When I, some time, shall follow them, there will be for me only +joy; for sorrow remains behind, in the sphere which I quit. + +It vanishes and sinks before my gaze--the world which I so lately +admired. With all the fulness of life, of order, of increase, which +I behold in it, it is but the curtain by which an infinitely more +perfect world is concealed from me. It is but the germ out of which +that infinitely more perfect shall unfold itself. My faith enters +behind this curtain, and warms and quickens this germ. It sees nothing +definite, but expects more than it can grasp here below, than it will +ever be able to grasp in time. + +So I live and so I am; and so I am unchangeable, firm and complete +for all eternity. For this being is not one which I have received from +without; it is my own only true being and essence. + + + + +ADDRESSES TO THE GERMAN NATION + +(1807 to 1808) + +TRANSLATED BY LOUIS H. GRAY, PH.D. + +ADDRESS EIGHT + +The Definition of a Nation in the Higher Sense of the Word, and of +Patriotism + + +The last four addresses have answered the question, What is the German +as contrasted with other nations of Teutonic origin? The argument will +be complete if we further add the examination of the question, What is +a nation? The latter question is identical with another, and, at the +same time, the other question, which has often been propounded and +has been answered in very different ways, helps in the solution. This +question is, What is patriotism, or, as it would be more correctly +expressed, What is the love of the individual for his nation? + +If we have thus far proceeded aright in the course of our +investigation, it must become obvious therefrom that only the +German--the primitive man, not he who has become petrified by +arbitrary laws and institutions--really has a nation and is entitled +to count on one, and that only he is capable of real and rational love +for his nation. + +We smooth our way to a solution of our proposed task by means of the +following remark, which appears, at first sight, to lie outside the +context of our previous discussion. + +As we have already observed in our third address, religion is able +absolutely to transport us above all time and above the whole of +present and perceptual life without doing the least injury to the +justice, morality, and holiness of the life influenced by this belief. +Even with the certain conviction that all our activity on this earth +will not leave the least trace behind it and will not produce the +slightest results, and even with the belief that the divine may +actually be perverse and may be used as a tool of evil and of still +deeper moral corruption, it is, nevertheless, possible to continue +in this activity simply in order to maintain the divine life that +has come forth within us and that stands in relation to a higher +governance of things in a future world where nothing perishes that +has been done in God. Thus, for instance, the apostles and the first +Christians generally, even while living, were wholly transported +above the earth because of their belief in heaven; and affairs +terrestrial--state, fatherland, and nation--were so entirely renounced +that they no longer deemed such trivial concerns worthy even of their +consideration. However possible this may be, however easy, moreover, +for faith, and however joyfully we may resign ourselves to the +conviction, since it is unalterably the will of God, that we have +no more an earthly country but are exiles and slaves here +below--nevertheless, this is not the natural condition and the rule +governing the course of the world, but is a rare exception. Moreover, +it is a very perverse use of religion (and, among others, Christianity +has frequently been guilty of it) when, as a question of principle and +without regard to the existent circumstances, it proceeds to commend +this withdrawal from the affairs of the state and of the nation as a +truly religious sentiment. Under such conditions, if they are true and +real and not perhaps induced merely by religious fanaticism, temporal +life loses all its independence and becomes simply a fore-court of +the true life and a hard trial to be borne only by obedience and +submission to the will of God; in this view it becomes true that, +as has been claimed by many, immortal souls have been plunged into +earthly bodies, as into prisons, simply as a punishment. In the +regular order of things, however, earthly life should itself truly be +life in which we may rejoice and which we may thankfully enjoy, even +though in expectation of a higher life; and although it is true that +religion is also the comfort of the slave illegally oppressed, yet, +above all things, the essence of religion is to oppose slavery and to +prevent, so far as possible, its deterioration to a mere consolation +of the captive. It is doubtless to the interest of the tyrant to +preach religious resignation and to refer to heaven those to whom he +will not grant a tiny place on earth; we must, however, be less hasty +to adopt the view of religion recommended by the tyrant, for, if +we can, we must forestall the making of earth into hell in order to +arouse a still greater longing for heaven. + +The natural impulse of man, to be surrendered only in case of real +necessity, is to find heaven already on this earth and to amalgamate +into his earthly work day by day that which lasts forever; to plant +and to cultivate the imperishable in the temporal itself--not merely +in an unconceivable way, connected with the eternal solely by the gulf +which mortal eyes may not pass, but in a manner which is visible to +the mortal eye itself. + +That I may begin with this generally intelligible example--what +noble-minded man does not wish and aspire to repeat his own life in +better wise in his children and, again, in their children, and still +to continue to live upon this earth, ennobled and perfected in their +lives, long after he is dead; to wrest from mortality the spirit, +the mind, and the character with which in his day he perchance put +perversity and corruption to flight, established uprightness, aroused +sluggishness, and uplifted dejection, and to deposit these, as his +best legacy to posterity, in the spirits of his survivors, in order +that, in their turn, they may again bequeath them equally adorned and +augmented? What noble-minded man does not wish, by act or thought, +to sow a seed for the infinite and eternal perfecting of his race; +to cast into Time something new and hitherto non-existent, which +may abide there and become the unfailing source of new creations; +to repay, for his place on this earth and for the short span of +life vouchsafed him, something that shall last forever even here on +earth--to the end that he as an individual, even though unnamed by +history (since thirst for fame is contemptible vanity), may leave +behind in his own consciousness and in his own belief manifest tokens +that he himself existed? What noble-minded man does not wish this, +I asked; yet the world is to be considered as organized only in +accordance with the requirements of those who thus view themselves as +the norm of how all men should be. It is for their sakes alone that +the world exists! They are indeed its kernel; and those who think +otherwise must be regarded as merely a part of the transitory world so +long as they reason on so low a plane, for they exist merely for the +sake of the noble-minded and must accommodate themselves to the latter +until they have risen to their height. + +What, now, could it be that might give solid foundation to this +challenge and to this belief of the noble in the eternity and the +imperishability of his work? Obviously, only an order of things which +he could recognize as eternal in itself and as capable of receiving +eternal elements within itself. Such an order is, however, the +special, spiritual nature of human surroundings, which can, it is +true, be comprised in no concept, but which is, nevertheless, truly +present--the surroundings from which he has himself come forth with +all his thought and activity and with his faith in their eternity--the +nation from which he is descended, amid which he was educated and grew +up to what he now is. For however undoubtedly true it may be that his +work, if he rightly lays claim to its eternity, is in no wise the mere +result of the spiritual, natural law of his nation, simply merging +into this result--no, it must be thought of as an element greater +than that--a something which flows immediately from the primitive +and divine life. Nevertheless, it is equally true that this something +more, immediately after its formation as a visible phenomenon, has +subordinated itself to that special spiritual law of nature, has +acquired a perceptual expression only in accordance with that law. +Under this same natural law, so long as this nation endures, all +further revelations of the divine will also appear and be formed +within it. Yet, through the fact that the man existed and so labored, +this law itself is further determined, and his activity has become +a permanent component of it; everything subsequent will likewise be +compelled to adapt itself accordingly and to conform to the law in +question. And thus he is made certain that the culture which he has +achieved remains with his nation for all time and becomes a permanent +basis of determination for all its further development. + +In the higher conception of the word considered in general from the +viewpoint of an insight into a spiritual world, a nation is this: The +totality of human beings living together in society and constantly +perpetuating themselves both bodily and spiritually; and this totality +stands altogether under a certain specific law through which the +divine develops itself. The universality of this specific law is what +binds this multitude into a natural totality, inter-penetrated by +itself, in the eternal world, and, for that very reason, in the +temporal world as well. The law itself, in its essence, can be +generally comprehended as we have applied it to the case of the +Germans as a primal nation; through consideration of the phenomena +of such a nation it may be even more exactly grasped in many of its +further determinations; yet it can never be entirely understood by any +one who, unknown to himself, personally remains continually under its +influence; it may in general, however, be clearly perceived that +such a law exists. This law is a surplus of the figurative +which amalgamates directly with the surplus of the unfigurative +primitiveness in the phenomenon, and thus, precisely in the +phenomenon, both are then no longer separable. That law absolutely +determines and completes what has been called the national character +of a people--the law, namely, of the development of the primitive and +of the divine. From the latter it is clear that men who do not in the +least believe in a primitive being and in a further development of +it, but simply in an eternal circle of visible life, and who, through +their belief, become what they believe, are no nation whatsoever in +the higher sense; and since they do not, strictly speaking, actually +exist, they are equally powerless to possess a national character. + +The belief of the noble-minded man in the eternal continuance of his +activity, even upon this earth, is based, accordingly, on the hope +for the eternal continuance of the nation from which he has himself +developed, and of its individuality in accordance with that hidden +law, without intermixture and corruption by any alien element and +by what does not appertain to the totality of this legislation. +This individuality is the permanent element to which he intrusts the +eternity of himself and of his continued action--the eternal order +of things in which he lays his perpetuity. He must desire its +continuance, for it is alone the releasing agency whereby the brief +span of his life here is extended to a continuous life upon the earth. +His belief and his endeavor to plant what shall not pass away, and +the concept in which he comprehends his own life as an eternal life, +constitute the bond which most intimately associates with himself, +first, his own nation and, through that, the entire human race--which +brings the needs of them all, to the end of time, into his broadened +heart. This is his love for his nation, and through it, first, he +respects, trusts, rejoices in it, and takes pride in his descent from +it; the Divine has appeared in it, and has deigned to make it his +covering and his means of direct communication with the world; the +Divine, therefore, will continue to break forth from it. Therefore +man is, secondly, active, efficacious, and self-sacrificing for his +nation. Life, simply as life, as a continuance of changing existence, +has certainly never possessed value for him apart from this--he has +desired it merely as the source of the permanent. This permanence, +however, alone promises him the independent continuance of the +existence of his nation; and to save this he must even be willing to +die that it may live, and that in it he may live the only life that +has ever been possible to him. + +Thus it is. Love, to be really love, and not merely a transitory +desire, never clings to the perishable, but is awakened and kindled +by, and based upon, the eternal only. Man is not even able to love +himself unless he consider himself as eternal; moreover, he cannot +even esteem and approve himself. Still less can he love anything +outside himself, except, that is, that he receive it within the +eternity of his belief and of his soul, and connect it with this +eternity. He who does not, first of all, regard himself as eternal, +has no love whatever, nor can he, moreover, love a fatherland, since +nothing of the sort exists for him. It is true that he who, perchance, +regards his invisible life as eternal, but who does not, therefore, +esteem his visible life as eternal in the same sense, may perhaps +have a heaven, and in this his fatherland, but here on earth he has no +fatherland; for this also is seen only under the metaphor of eternity +and, indeed, of visible eternity, rendered perceptible to the senses; +moreover, he cannot, therefore, love his fatherland. If such a man has +none, he is to be pitied; but he to whom one has been given, and +in whose soul heaven and earth, the invisible and the visible, +interpenetrate, and thus for the first time create a true and worthy +heaven, fights to the last drop of his blood again to transmit the +precious possession undiminished to posterity. + +Thus has it been from time immemorial, though it has not been +expressed from time immemorial with this generality and with this +clearness. What inspired the noble spirits among the Romans, whose +sentiments and mode of thought still live and breathe among us in +their monuments, to struggle and to sacrifice, to endure and be +patient, for their fatherland? They themselves state it frequently and +clearly. It was their firm belief in the eternal continuance of their +Rome, and their confident expectation of themselves continuing to live +in this eternity. In so far as this conviction had foundation, and +in so far as they themselves would have grasped it if they had been +perfectly clear within themselves, it never deceived them. + +Unto this day what was really eternal in their eternal Rome lives on +and they with it in our midst, and it will continue to live, in its +results, until the end of time. + +In this sense--as the vehicle and the pledge of earthly eternity, +and the interpretation of the eternal here--nation and fatherland +far transcend the State in the ordinary sense of the term social +organization, as this is conceived in its simple, clear connotation, +and as it is founded and maintained in accordance with this +conception--a conception which demands sure justice and internal +peace, and requires that every one through his efforts obtain his +support and the prolongation of his sentient existence so long as God +will grant it to him. All this is only a means, a condition, and a +scaffolding of what patriotism really means--the development of the +eternal and the divine in the world, which is ever to become purer, +more perfect in infinite progression. For that very reason this +patriotism must, first of all, rule the State itself as absolutely the +highest, ultimate, and independent authority, by limiting it in the +choice of means for its immediate purpose--inner peace. To reach this +goal, the natural freedom of the individual must be limited in many +ways, it is true; and if this were absolutely the only consideration +and intention regarding them, it would be well to restrict this +liberty as closely as possible, in order to bring all their movements +under one uniform rule, and to keep them under constant supervision. +Granted that such severity be necessary, it could at least do no harm +for this single end; only the higher concept of the human race and of +the nations widens this limited view. Even in the manifestations +of external life freedom is the soil in which the higher culture +germinates; a legislation which keeps this later aim in view will give +the broadest possible scope to freedom, even at the risk that a less +degree of uniform quiet and calm may result, and that government may +become a little more difficult and laborious. + +To elucidate this by an example--it has been known to happen that +nations have been told to their faces that they did not require as +much freedom as many other nations do. This statement might, indeed, +be dictated by forbearance and a desire to palliate, the true meaning +being that they were utterly unable to endure so great freedom and +that only a high degree of rigidity could prevent them from destroying +one another. If, however, the words are taken as they are spoken, +they are true under the presupposition that such a nation is entirely +incapable of the natural life and of the impulse toward it. Such a +nation--in case such a one, in which some few of the nobler sort did +not make an exception to the general rule, were possible--would indeed +require no freedom whatever, since this is only for the higher ends +which transcend the State; it requires simply taming and training in +order that the individuals may live peaceably side by side, and that +the whole may be made an efficient means for arbitrary ends which +lie outside its proper sphere. We need not decide whether this may +truthfully be said of any nation whatever; but this much is clear, +that a primitive nation requires freedom, that this freedom is the +pledge of its persistence as a primitive people, and that, as it +continues, it bears, without any danger, an ever ascending degree of +freedom. And this is the first example of the necessity of patriotism +governing the state itself. + +It must, then, be patriotism which governs the state in that it sets +for it itself a higher end than the ordinary one of the maintenance of +the internal peace, of the property, of the personal freedom, of the +life, and of the well-being of all. Solely for this higher end, and +with no other intention, the state assembles an armed force. When the +problem of the application of this armed force arises, when it is +a question of hazarding all the aims of the state in the +abstract-property, personal freedom, life, welfare, and the +continuance of the state itself--when, answerable to God alone, they +are called upon to decide without a clear and rational conception of +the sure attainment of the end in view, which in matters of this sort +it is never possible to gain--then only the true primitive life holds +the rudder of the state, and here for the first time enters the true +sovereign right of the government, like God, to imperil the lower +life for the sake of the higher. In the maintenance of the traditional +organization, of the laws, and of civic welfare, there is absolutely +no genuine life and no primitive decision. Circumstances and +situations, legislators who have perhaps long been dead, have created +those things; succeeding ages go trustingly forward in the road they +have entered, and thus, as a matter of fact, they do not live a public +life of their own, but merely repeat a former. In such periods there +is no need of a real government. If, however, this uniform progress +is imperiled, and the problem arises of deciding with reference to +new cases, then a life is required which has its roots in itself. What +spirit is it, now, which in such cases may take its place at the helm, +which is able to decide with individual certainty and without uneasy +wavering, and which has an indubitable right authoritatively to lay +demands upon every one who may be concerned, whether he will or not, +and to compel the recalcitrant to imperil everything, even to his +life? Not the spirit of calm civilian love for the constitution and +the laws, but the burning flame of the higher patriotism which regards +the nation as the veil of the eternal, for which the noble joyfully +sacrifices himself, and for which the ignoble, who exists only for +the sake of the noble, should also sacrifice himself! It is not that +civilian love for the constitution, for this is absolutely incapable +of such action if it is founded on reason only. + +Whatever may be the outcome, since governance is not unrewarded, some +one will always be found to take charge of it. Let the new ruler even +favor slavery (and in what does slavery consist except in contempt +and suppression of the individuality of a primitive people?), since +advantage may be derived from the life of slaves, from their number, +and even from their welfare, then slavery will be endurable under him +provided he is a calculator to any extent. They will at least always +find life and support. Why, then, should they thus struggle? According +to both of them, it is peace which transcends everything in their +opinion, but this is disturbed only by the continuance of the +struggle. The slave, therefore, puts forth every effort to end it +quickly; he will yield and submit--and why should he not? He never had +a higher purpose, and he has never expected anything more from life +than the continuance of his existence under endurable conditions. The +promise of a life lasting, even here, beyond the duration of earthly +life--this alone is what can inspire him to death for the fatherland. + +Thus it has always been. Wheresoever real government has existed, +where serious struggles have been fought out, where victory has been +won against mighty resistance, it has been the promise of eternal +life that governed and fought and conquered. The German Protestants, +formerly mentioned in these addresses, fought with faith in this +promise. Did they not perhaps know that nations might also be governed +with the old faith and be held in legal order, and that a good +livelihood might be found under this faith also? Why, then, did +their princes thus determine upon armed resistance, and why did their +peoples lend themselves to it with enthusiasm? It was heaven and +eternal happiness for which they gladly shed their blood. Yet what +earthly power could then have penetrated into the inmost sanctuary of +their souls and have been able to eradicate the faith which had now +once sprung up within them, and on which alone they based their hope +of salvation? It was not, therefore, their own happiness for which +they struggled--of that they were already assured; it was the +happiness of their children, of their grandchildren still unborn, +and of all posterity. These, too, should be brought up in the same +doctrine which alone seemed to them to bring salvation; they, too, +should share in the salvation which had dawned for them. It was this +hope alone that was threatened by the foe; for that hope, for an order +of things which should bloom above their graves long after they were +dead, they shed their blood thus joyfully. If we grant that they were +not entirely clear to themselves, that in their designation of the +noblest they verbally mistook what was within them, and with their +mouths did injustice to their souls; if we willingly acknowledge that +their confession of faith was not the sole and exclusive means of +attaining heaven beyond the grave--yet, this, at least, is eternally +true that more heaven on this side of the grave, a more courageous and +more joyous lifting of the gaze above the earth, and a freer impulse +of spirit have come through their sacrifice into all the life of +succeeding ages; and the descendants of their opponents, as well as +we ourselves, their own descendants, enjoy the fruits of their labors +unto this day. + +In this belief our oldest common ancestors, the parent nation of +civilization, the Teutons whom the Romans called Germans, boldly +opposed the advancing world-dominion of the Romans. Did they not then +see before their eyes the higher bloom of the Roman provinces near +them, the more refined enjoyments in them, and, in addition, laws, +judgment-seats, rods, and axes in superabundance? Were not the Romans +willing enough to allow them to share in all these blessings? Did they +not experience, in the case of several of their own princes who had +allowed themselves to be persuaded that war against such benefactors +of humanity was rebellion, proofs of the lauded Roman clemency, +since Rome adorned these submissive lords with kingly titles, with +generalships in their armies, and with Roman fillets, and gave +them, if, perchance, they had been driven out by their compatriots, +maintenance and a place of refuge in their colonies? Had they no +feeling for the advantages of Roman culture, as, for example, for the +better organization of their armies, in which even an Arminius did +not disdain to learn the trade of war? None of all these ignorances +or negligences is to be charged against them. Their descendents even +adopted the culture of the Romans as soon as they could do it without +loss of their freedom and in so far as it was possible without +impairment of their individuality. Why did they, then, thus struggle +for several generations in sanguinary war, ever renewed with the same +virulence? A Roman author makes their leaders ask "whether anything +was then left for them except either to assert their freedom or to die +before they became slaves?" Freedom meant to them that they remained +Germans, that they continued to decide their affairs independently, +in conformity with their national genius, and, likewise in conformity +with this spirit, that they continued to go forward in their +development and transmitted this independence to their posterity; +slavery meant to them all the blessings which the Romans offered them, +because in that case they must be something else than Germans--they +might be half Romans. It is self-evident, they presuppose, that every +one would rather die than become thus, and that a true German can wish +to live only that he may be and remain forever a German and may train +all that belong to him to be Germans also. + +They have not all died; they have not seen slavery; they have +bequeathed liberty to their children. All the modern world owes it to +their stubborn resistance that it exists as it does. If the Romans had +succeeded in subjugating them also and, as the Roman everywhere did, +in eradicating them as a nation, then the entire future development of +mankind would have taken a direction that we cannot imagine would +have been more pleasant. We, the immediate heirs of their land, their +language, and their thought, owe it to them that we be still Germans, +that the stream of primitive and independent life still bear us on; +to them we owe everything that we have since become as a nation; and, +unless we have now perhaps come to an end, and unless the last drop +of blood inherited from them is dried up in our veins, we shall owe +to them all that we shall be in the future. Even the other Teutonic +races, among whom are our brethren, and who have now become foreigners +to us, owe to them their existence; when they conquered eternal Rome, +no one of all these nations yet existed; at that time the possibility +of their future origin was simultaneously won in the struggle. + +These, and all others in universal history who have been of their type +of thought, have conquered because the eternal inspired them, and thus +this inspiration ever and of necessity prevails over him who is not +inspired. It is not the might of arms nor the fitness of weapons +that wins victories, but the power of the soul. He who sets himself +a limited goal for his sacrifices, and who can dare no further than a +certain point, surrenders resistance as soon as the danger reaches a +crisis where he cannot yield or dodge. He who has set himself no limit +whatsoever, but who hazards everything, even life--the highest +boon that can be lost on earth--never ceases to resist, and, if his +opponent has a more limited goal, he indubitably conquers. A people +that is capable, though it be only in its highest representatives and +leaders, of keeping firmly before its vision independence, the face +from the spirit world, and of being inspired with love for it, as +were our remotest forefathers, surely conquers a people that, like the +Roman armies, is used merely as a tool for foreign dominion and for +the subjugation of independent nations; for the former have everything +to lose, the latter have merely something to gain. But even a whim can +prevail over the mental attitude which regards war as a game of hazard +for temporal gain or loss, and which, even before the game starts, has +fixed the limit of the stake. Think, for example, of a Mohammed--not +the real Mohammed of history, concerning whom I confess that I have +no judgment, but the Mohammed of a distinguished French poet--who +had once become firmly convinced that he was one of the extraordinary +natures who are called to guide the obscure and common folk of earth, +and to whom, in consequence of this first presupposition, all his +whims, however meagre and limited they may really be, must necessarily +appear to be great, exalted and inspiring ideas because they are his +own, while everything that opposes them must seem obscure, common +folk, enemies of their own weal, evil-minded, and hateful. Such a man, +in order to justify this self-conceit to himself as a divine vocation, +and entirely absorbed in this thought, must stake everything upon it, +nor can he rest until he has trampled under foot all that will not +think as highly of him as he does himself, or until his own belief in +his divine mission is reflected from the whole contemporary world. I +shall not say what would be his fortunes in case a spiritual vision +that is true and clear within itself should actually come against +him on the field of battle, but he certainly wins from those limited +gamblers, for he hazards everything against those who do not so +hazard; no spirit inspires them, but he is altogether inspired by a +fanatical spirit--that of his mighty and powerful self-conceit. + +It follows from all this that the state, as mere governance of human +life proceeding in its normal peaceable course, is not a primal thing +and one existing for itself, but that it is simply the means to the +higher end of the eternally uniform development of the purely human in +this nation; that it is only the vision and the love of this eternal +development which is continually to guide the higher outlook upon the +administration of the state, even in periods of calm, and which alone +can save the independence of the nation when this is endangered. In +the case of the Germans, among whom, as being a primitive people, this +love of country was possible and, as we firmly believe, has actually +existed hitherto, such patriotism could, up to our own time, count +with a high degree of certainty upon the safety of its most important +interests. As was the case only among the Greeks in antiquity, among +the Germans the State and the nation were actually severed from +each other, and each was represented separately; the former in the +individual German kingdoms and principalities; the latter visibly in +the Federation of the Empire, and invisibly--valid not in consequence +of written law but as a sequence of a law living in the hearts of all, +and in its results striking the eyes at every turn--in a multitude +of customs and institutions. As far as the German language extended, +every one who saw the light within its domain could regard himself +as a citizen in a two-fold sense, partly of his natal city, to whose +immediate protection he was recommended; and partly of the entire +common fatherland of the German nation. Throughout the whole extent of +this fatherland each man might seek for himself that culture which was +most akin to his spirit, or he might search for the sphere of activity +most suited for it; and talent did not grow into its place, like a +tree, but he was permitted to search for that place. He who became +estranged from his immediate surroundings through the direction taken +by his culture, easily found welcome reception elsewhere; he found new +friends instead of those whom he had lost; he found time and quiet in +which to explain himself more accurately and perhaps to win over and +to reconcile the wrathful themselves, and thus to unite the whole. No +German-born prince could ever bring himself to mark off the fatherland +of his subjects within the mountains or rivers where he ruled, and to +regard them as bound to the soil. A truth which could not be uttered +in one place might be proclaimed in another, where, perhaps, on the +contrary, those truths were forbidden which were allowable in the +former district; and thus, despite many instances of partiality and +narrow-mindedness in the individual states, in Germany, taken as +a whole, was found the utmost freedom of investigation and of +communication that ever a nation possessed. Higher culture was, and +remained on every hand, the result of the reciprocity of the citizens +of all German states, and this higher culture then gradually descended +in this form to the greater masses, who, consequently, have always, +on the whole, continued to educate themselves. As has been said, no +German with a German heart, placed at the head of a government, has +ever diminished this essential pledge of the continuance of a German +nation; and even though, in view of other primitive decisions, what +the higher German patriotism must desire was not invariably to +be effected, yet at least there was no direct opposition to its +interests; no effort was made to undermine that love, to eradicate it, +and to replace it by an antagonistic love. + +But if, now, the original guidance both of that higher culture and +of the national power--which should be used only in behalf of that +culture and to further its continuance--the employment of German +wealth and German blood is to pass from the supremacy of the German +spirit to that of another, what would then necessarily result? + +Here is the place where there is special need of applying the policy +which we outlined in our first address, namely, to be unwilling to +be deceived in regard to our own interest, and to have the courage +willingly to see the truth and acknowledge it. Moreover, it is still +permissible, so far as I know, to talk with one another in German +about our fatherland, or at least to sigh in German, and, I +believe, we should not do well if we ourselves precipitated such an +interdiction and wished to lay the fetters of individual timidity on +the courage which, no doubt, will already have considered the risk of +the venture. + +Well then, picture to yourself the presupposed new regime to be as +kind and as benevolent as you will; make it good as God; will you also +be able to invest it with divine understanding? Even though it may, in +all earnestness, desire the highest happiness and welfare of all, +will the best welfare that it can comprehend also be the welfare of +Germany? I accordingly hope that I shall be perfectly understood in +reference to the main point that I have presented to you today; I hope +that in the course of my remarks many have thought and felt that I +merely express clearly in words what has always lain within their +hearts; I hope the same will be the case with the other Germans +who will some day read this address. Several Germans have said +approximately the same things before me, and that sentiment has +lain obscurely at the basis of the opposition continually manifested +against a merely mechanical establishment and estimate of the State. +And now I challenge all who are acquainted with modern foreign +literature to prove to me what later sage, poet, or lawgiver among +them has ever given birth to a prophetic thought similar to this, +which regarded the human race as being in continual progress, and +which correlated all its temporal activity only with this progress; +whether any one of them, even in the period when they soared most +boldly to political creation, demanded from the state more than +equality, internal peace, external national fame, and, when their +demands reached the extreme limit, domestic happiness? If this is +their highest conception, as must be deduced from all that has been +said, they can attribute to us likewise no higher needs and no +higher demands upon life, and--always presupposing those beneficent +sentiments toward us and an absence of all selfishness and of all +desire to be more than we--they believe that they have made admirable +provision for us when they give us all that they alone recognize as +desirable. On the other hand, that for which alone the nobler soul +among us can live is then eradicated from public life, and the people, +who have always shown themselves receptive toward the impulses of +higher things, and the majority of whom, it might be hoped, could even +be raised to that nobility, are--in so far as it is treated as they +wish it to be treated--abased beneath its rank, dishonored, and +blotted out, since it coalesces with the populace of the baser sort. + +If, now, those higher claims upon life, together with the sense of +their divine right, still remain living and potent in any one, he, +with deep indignation, feels himself crushed back into those first +ages of Christianity in which it was said: "Resist not evil: but +whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other +also. And if any man will take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak +also." And rightly so, for as long as he still sees a cloak upon thee, +he seeks an opportunity to quarrel with thee in order to take this +also from thee; not until thou art utterly naked dost thou escape his +attention and art unmolested by him. Even his higher feelings, which +do him honor, make earth a hell and an abomination to him; he wishes +that he had not been born; he wishes that his eyes may close to the +light of day, the sooner the better; unceasing sorrow lays hold upon +his days until the grave claims him; he can wish for those dear to him +no better gift than a quiet and contented spirit, that with less pain +they may live on in expectation of an eternal life beyond the grave. + +These addresses lay upon you the task of preventing, by the sole means +which still remains after the others have been tried in vain, the +destruction of every nobler impulse that may in the future possibly +arise among us and this debasement of our entire nation. They present +to you a true and omnipotent patriotism, which, in the conception +of our nation as of one that is eternal, and as citizens of our own +eternity, is to be deeply and ineradicably founded in the minds of +all, by means of education. What this education may be, and in what +way it may be achieved, we shall see in the following addresses. + +[Illustration: VOLUNTEERS OF 1813 BEFORE KING FRIEDRICH WILHELM III IN +BRESLAU _From the Painting by F.W. Scholtz_] + + * * * * * + + + + +ADDRESS FOURTEEN + +Conclusion of the Whole + + +The addresses which I here conclude have, indeed, been directed +primarily to you,[4] but they had in view the entire German nation; +and, in intention, they have gathered about them, in the space wherein +you visibly breathe, all that would be capable of understanding +them as far as the German tongue extends. Should I have succeeded in +casting into any bosom throbbing before my eyes some sparks which may +glimmer on and take life, it is not in my thought that they remain +solitary and alone, but, traversing the whole ground in common, I +would gather about them similar sentiments and purposes and weld them +so unitedly that a continuous and coherent flame of patriotic thought +might spread and be enkindled from this centre over the soil of the +fatherland and to its furthest bounds. My addresses have not been +directed to this generation for the pastime of idle ears and eyes, but +I desire at last to know--even as every one who is like-minded should +know--whether there is anything outside us that is akin to our type +of thought. Every German who still believes that he is a member of a +nation, who thinks of it in grand and noble fashion, who hopes in it, +and who dares, suffers, and endures for it, should at last be torn +from the uncertainty of his belief; he should clearly discern whether +he is right or whether he is only a fool and a fanatic; henceforth he +should either continue his path with sure and joyous consciousness, +or, with healthy resolution, should renounce a fatherland here below +and comfort himself solely with that which is in heaven. To you, +therefore, not as such-and-such persons in our daily and circumscribed +life, but as representatives of the nation, and, through your ears, to +the nation as a whole, these addresses appeal. + +Centuries have passed since you have been convened as you are +today--in such numbers, in so great, so insistent, so mutual an +interest, so absolutely as a nation and as Germans. Never again will +you be so bidden. If you do not listen now and examine yourselves, if +you again let these addresses pass you by as an empty tickling of the +ears or as a strange prodigy, no human being will longer take account +of you. Hear at last for once; for once at last reflect! Only do not +go this time from the spot without having made a firm resolve; let +every one who hears this voice make this resolution within himself +and for himself, even as though he were alone and must do everything +alone. If very many individuals think thus, there will soon be a great +whole uniting into a single, close-knit power. If, on the contrary, +each one, excluding himself, relies on the rest and relinquishes the +affair to others, then there are no others at all, for, even though +combined, all remain just as they were before. Make it on the +spot--this resolution! Do not say, "Yet a little more sleep, a +little more slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep," until, +perchance, improvement shall come of itself. It will never come of +itself. He who has once missed the opportunity of yesterday, when +clear perception would have been easier, will not be able to make +up his mind today, and will certainly be even less able to do so +tomorrow. Every delay only makes us still more inert and but lulls us +more and more into gentle acquiescence to our wretched plight. Neither +could the external stimulations to reflection ever be stronger and +more insistent, for surely he whom these present conditions do not +arouse has lost all feeling. You have been called together to make +a last, determined resolution and decision--not by any means to give +commands and mandates to others, or to depute others to do the work +for you. No, my purpose is to urge you to do the work yourself. In +this connection that idle passing of resolutions, the will to will, +some time or other, are not sufficient, nor is it enough to remain +sluggishly satisfied until self-improvement sets in of its own +accord. On the contrary, from you is demanded a determination which +is identical with action and with life itself, and which will continue +and control, unwavering and unchilled, until it gains its goal. + +Or is perchance the root, from which alone can grow a tenacity of +purpose which takes hold upon life, utterly eradicated and vanished +within you? Or is your whole being actually rarefied into a hollow +shade, devoid of sap and blood and of individual power of movement, or +dissolved to a dream in which, indeed, a motley array of faces arise +and busily cross one another, but the body lies stiff and dead? Long +since it has been openly proclaimed to our generation and repeated +under every guise, that this is very nearly its condition. Its +spokesmen have believed that this was declared merely in insult, and +have regarded themselves as challenged to return the insults, thinking +that thus the affair would resume its natural course. As for the rest, +there was not the slightest trace of change or of improvement. If +you have heard this, and if it was capable of rousing your +indignation--well then, through your very actions, give the lie to +those who thus think and speak of you. Once show yourselves to be +different before the eyes of all the world, and before the eyes of all +the world they will be convicted of their falsehood. It may be that +they have spoken thus harshly of you with the precise intention of +forcing this refutation from you, and because they despaired of any +other means of arousing you. How much better, then, would have been +their intentions toward you than were the purposes of those who +flattered you that you might be kept in sluggish calm and in careless +thoughtlessness! + +However weak and powerless you may be, during this period clear and +calm reflection has been vouchsafed you as never before. What +really plunged us into confusion regarding our position, into +thoughtlessness, into a blind way of letting things go, was our sweet +complacency with ourselves and our mode of existence. Things had thus +gone on hitherto, and so they continued and would continue to go. If +any one challenged us to reflect, we triumphantly showed him, instead +of any other refutation, our continued existence which went on without +any thought or effort on our part; yet things flowed along simply +because we were not put to the test. Since that time we have passed +through the ordeal and it might be supposed that the deceptions, the +delusions, and the false consolations with which we all misguided one +another would have collapsed! The innate prejudices which, without +proceeding from this point or from that, spread over all like a +natural cloud and wrapped all in the same mist, ought surely, by this +time, to have utterly vanished! That twilight no longer obscures our +eyes, and can therefore no longer serve for an excuse. Now we stand, +naked and bare, stripped of all alien coverings and draperies, simply +as ourselves. Now it must appear what each self is, or is not. + +Some one among you might come forward and ask me "What gives you in +particular, the only one among all German men and authors, the special +task, vocation, and prerogative of convening us and inveighing against +us? Would not any one among the thousands of the writers of Germany +have exactly the same right to do this as you have? None of them does +it; you alone push yourself forward." I answer that each one would, +indeed, have had the same right as I, and that I do it for the very +reason that no one among them has done it before me; that I would be +silent if any one else had spoken previous to me. This was the first +step toward the goal of a radical amelioration, and some one must take +it. I seemed to be the first vividly to perceive this--accordingly, it +was I who first took it. After this, a second step will be taken, and +thereto every one has now the same right; but, as a matter of fact, +it, in its turn, will be taken by but one individual. One man must +always be the first, and let him be he who can! + +Without anxiety regarding this circumstance, let your attention rest +for an instant on the consideration to which we have previously led +you--in how enviable a position Germany and the world would be if the +former had known how to utilize the good fortune of her position and +to recognize her advantage. Let your eyes rest upon what they both +are now, and let your minds be penetrated by the pain and indignation +which, in this reflection, must lay hold upon every noble soul. Then +examine yourselves and see that it is you who can release the age from +the errors of ancient times, and that, if only you will permit it, +your own eyes can be cleared of the mist that covers them; learn, too, +that it has been vouchsafed to you, as to no generation before you, to +undo what has been done and to efface the dishonorable interval from +the annals of the German nation. + +Let the various conditions among which you must choose pass before +you. If you drift along in your torpor and your heedlessness, all the +evils of slavery await you--deprivations, humiliations, the scorn and +arrogance of the conqueror; you will be pushed about from pillar to +post, because you have never found your proper niche, until, through +the sacrifice of your nationality and of your language, you slip into +some subordinate place where your nation shall sink its identity. If, +on the other hand, you rouse yourselves, you will find, first of all, +an enduring and honorable existence, and will behold a flourishing +generation which promises to you and to the Germans the most glorious +and lasting memory. Through the instrumentality of this new generation +you will see in spirit the German name exalted to the most glorious +among all nations; you will discern in this nation the regenerator and +restorer of the world. + +It depends upon you whether you will be the last of a dishonorable +race, even more surely despised by posterity than it deserves, and in +whose history--if there can be any history in the barbarism which will +then begin--succeeding generations will rejoice when it perishes and +will praise fate that it is just; or whether you will be the beginning +and the point of development of a new age which will be glorious +beyond all your expectations, and become those from whom posterity +will date the year of their salvation. Bethink yourselves that you +are the last in whose power this great change lies. You have heard +the Germans called a unit; you have still a visible sign of their +unity--an Empire and an Imperial League--or you have heard of it; +among you even yet, from time to time, voices have been audible which +were inspired by this higher patriotism. After you become accustomed +to other concepts and will accept alien forms and a different course +of occupation and of life--how long will it then be before no one +longer lives who has seen Germans or who has heard of them? + +What is demanded of you is not much. You should only keep before you +the necessity of pulling yourselves together for a little time and of +reflecting upon what lies immediately and obviously before your eyes. +You should merely form for yourselves a fixed opinion regarding +this situation, remain true to it, and utter and express it in your +immediate surroundings. It is the presupposition, yea, it is our firm +conviction, that this reflection will lead to the same result in all +of you; that, if you only seriously consider, and do not continue in +your previous heedlessness, you will think in harmony; and that, +if you can bring your intelligence to bear, and if only you do not +continue to vegetate, unanimity and unity of spirit will come of +themselves. If, however, matters once reach this point, all else that +we need will result automatically. + +This reflection is, moreover, demanded from each one of you who can +still consider for himself something lying obviously before his eyes. +You have time for this; events will not take you unawares; the records +of the negotiations conducted with you will remain before your eyes. +Lay them not from your hands until you are in unity with your selves. +Neither let, oh, let not yourselves be made supine by reliance upon +others or upon anything whatsoever that lies outside yourselves, nor +yet through the unintelligent belief of our time that the epochs of +history are made by the agency of some unknown power without any aid +from man. These addresses have never wearied in impressing upon you +that absolutely nothing can help you but yourselves, and they find it +necessary to repeat this to the last moment. Rain and dew, fruitful or +unfruitful years, may indeed be made by a power which is unknown to us +and is not under our control; but only men themselves--and absolutely +no power outside them--give to each epoch its particular stamp. Only +when they are all equally blind and ignorant do they fall the victims +of this hidden power, though it is within their own control not to +be blind and ignorant. It is true that to whatever degree, greater +or less, things may go ill with us, in part depends upon that unknown +power; but far more is it dependent upon the intelligence and the good +will of those to whom we are subjected. Whether, on the other hand, +it will ever again be well with us depends wholly upon ourselves; +and surely nevermore will any welfare whatsoever come to us unless we +ourselves acquire it for ourselves--especially unless each individual +among us toils and labors in his own way as though he were alone and +as though the salvation of future generations depended solely upon +him. + +This is what you have to do; and these addresses adjure you to do this +without delay. + +They adjure you, young men! I, who have long since ceased to belong +to you, maintain--and I have also expressed my conviction in these +addresses--that you are yet more capable of every thought transcending +the commonplace, and are more easily aroused to all that is good and +great, because your time of life still lies closer to the years of +childish innocence and of nature. Very differently does the majority +of the older generation regard this fundamental trait in you. It +accuses you of arrogance, of a rash, presumptuous judgment which soars +beyond your strength, of obstinacy, and of desire of innovation; yet +it merely smiles good-naturedly at these, your errors. All this, it +thinks, is based simply on your lack of knowledge of the world, that +is, of universal human corruption, since it has eyes for nothing else +on earth. You are now supposed to have courage only because you hope +to find help-mates like-minded with yourselves and because you do not +know the grim and stubborn resistance which will be opposed to your +projects of improvement. When the youthful fire of your imagination +shall once have vanished, when you shall have perceived the universal +selfishness, idleness, and horror of work, when you yourselves shall +once rightly have tasted the sweetness of plodding on in the customary +rut--then the desire to be better and wiser than all others will soon +fade away. They do not by any chance entertain these good expectations +of you in imagination alone; they have found them confirmed in their +own persons. They must confess that in the days of their foolish youth +they dreamed of improving the world, exactly as you dream today; yet +with increasing maturity they have become tame and quiet as you see +them now. I believe them; in my own experience, which has not been +very protracted, I have seen that young men who at first roused +different hopes nevertheless, later, exactly fulfilled the kind +expectations of mature age. Do this no longer, young men, for how else +could a better generation ever begin? The bloom of youth will indeed +fall from you, and the flame of imagination will cease to be nourished +from itself; but feed this flame and brighten it through clear +thought, make this way of thinking your own, and as an additional gift +you will gain character, the fairest adornment of man. Through this +clear thinking you will preserve the fountain of eternal youth; +however your bodies grow old or your knees become feeble, your spirit +will be reborn in freshness ever renewed, and your character will +stand firm and unchangeable. Seize at once the opportunity here +offered you; reflect clearly upon the theme presented for your +deliberation; and the clarity which has dawned for you in one point +will gradually spread over all others as well. + +These addresses adjure you, old men! You are regarded as you have just +heard, and you are told so to your faces; and for his own past the +speaker frankly adds that--excluding the exceptions which, it must +be admitted, not infrequently occur, and which are all the more +admirable--the world is perfectly right with regard to the great +majority among you. Go through the history of the last two or three +decades; everything except yourselves agrees--and even you yourselves +agree, each one in the specialty that does not immediately concern +him--that (always excluding the exceptions, and regarding only the +majority) the greatest uselessness and selfishness are found in +advanced years in all branches, in science as well as in practical +occupations. The whole world has witnessed that every one who desired +the better and the more perfect still had to wage the bitterest battle +with you in addition to the battle with his own uncertainty and with +his other surroundings; that you were firmly resolved that nothing +must thrive which you had not done and known in the same way; that you +regarded every impulse of thought as an insult to your intelligence; +and that you left no power unutilized to conquer in this battle +against improvement--and in fact you generally did prevail. Thus you +were the impeding power against all the improvements which kindly +nature offered us from her ever--youthful womb until you were +gathered to the dust which you were before, and until the succeeding +generations, which were at war with you, had become like unto you and +had adopted your attitude. Now, also, you need only conduct yourselves +as you have previously acted in case of all propositions for +amelioration; you need only again prefer to the general weal your +empty honor in order that there may be nothing between heaven and +earth that you have not already fathomed; then, through this last +battle, you are relieved from all further battle; no improvement +will accrue, but deterioration will follow in the footsteps of +deterioration, and thus there will be much satisfaction in reserve for +you. + +No one will suppose that I despise and depreciate old age as old +age. If only the source of primitive life and of its continuance is +absorbed into life through freedom, then clarity--and strength with +it--increases so long as life endures. Such a life is easier to live; +the dross of earthly origin falls away more and ever more; it is +ennobled to the life eternal and strives toward it. The experience +of such an old age is irreconcilable with evil, and it only makes the +means clearer and the skill more adroit victoriously to battle against +wickedness. Deterioration through increasing age is simply the fault +of our time, and it necessarily results in every place where society +is much corrupted. It is not nature which corrupts us--she produces +us in innocence; it is society. He who has once surrendered to the +influence of society must naturally become ever worse and worse the +longer he is exposed to this influence. It would be worth the trouble +to investigate the history of other extremely corrupt generations in +this regard, and to see whether--for example, under the rule of the +Roman emperors--what was once bad did not continually become worse +with increasing age. + +First of all, therefore, these addresses adjure you, old men and +experienced--you who form the exception! Confirm, strengthen, counsel +in this matter the younger generation, which reverently looks up to +you. And the rest of you also, who are average souls, they adjure! +If you are not to help, at least do not interfere, this time; do not +again--as always hitherto--put yourselves in the way with your wisdom +and with your thousand hesitations. This thing, like every rational +thing in the world, is not complicated, but simple; and it also +belongs among the thousand matters which you know not. If your wisdom +could save, it would surely have saved us before; for it is you who +have counseled us thus far. Now, like everything else, all this is +forgiven you, and you should no longer be reproached with it. Only +learn at last once to know yourselves, and be silent. + +These addresses adjure you men of affairs! With few exceptions you +have thus far been cordially hostile to abstract thought and to all +learning which desired to be something for itself, even though you +demeaned yourselves as if you merely haughtily despised all this. +As far as you possibly could, you held from you the men who did such +things as well as their propositions; the reproach of lunacy, or the +advice that they be sent to the mad-house, was the thanks from you on +which they might usually count. They, in their turn, did not venture +to express themselves regarding you with the same frankness, since +they were dependent upon you; but their innermost thought was this, +that, with a few exceptions, you were shallow babblers and inflated +braggarts, dilettante who have only passed through school, blind +gropers and creepers in the old rut who had neither wish nor ability +for aught else. Give them the lie through your deeds, and to this end +grasp the opportunity now offered you; lay aside that contempt for +profound thought and learning; let yourselves be advised and hear and +learn what you do not know, or else your accusers win their case. + +These addresses adjure you, thinkers, scholars, and authors who are +still worthy of this name! In a certain sense that reproach of the men +of affairs was not unjust. You often proceeded too unconcerned in +the realm of abstract thought, without troubling yourselves about the +actual world and without considering how the one might be connected +with the other; you circumscribed your own world for yourselves, and +let the real world lie to one side, disdained and despised. Every +regulation and every formation of actual life must, it is true, +proceed from the higher regulating concept, and progress in the +customary rut is insufficient for it; this is an eternal truth, and, +in God's name, it crushes with undisguised contempt every one who +is so bold as to busy himself with affairs without knowing this. Yet +between the concept and the introduction of it into any individual +life there is a great gulf fixed. The filling of this gulf is the +task both of the men of affairs--who, however, must already first have +learned enough to understand you--and also of yourselves, who should +not forget life on account of the world of thought. Here you both +meet. Instead of regarding each other askance and depreciating each +other across the gulf, endeavor rather to fill it, each on his own +side, and thus seek to construct the road to union. At last, I beg +you, realize that you both are as mutually necessary to each other as +head and arm are indispensable the one to the other. + +In other respects as well, these addresses adjure you, thinkers, +scholars, and authors who are still worthy of this name! Your laments +over the general shallowness, thoughtlessness, and superficiality, +over self-conceit and inexhaustible babble, over the contempt for +seriousness and profundity in all classes, may be true, even as they +actually are. Yet what class is it, pray, that has educated all these +classes, that has transformed everything pertaining to science into a +jest for them, and that has trained them from their earliest youth +in that self-conceit and that babble? Who is it, pray, who still +continues to educate the generations that have outgrown the schools? +The most obvious source of the torpor of the age is that it has read +itself torpid in the writings which you have written. Why are you, +nevertheless, so continually solicitous to amuse this idle people, +despite the fact that you know that they have learned nothing and wish +to learn nothing? Why do you call them "the Public," flatter them as +your judge, stir them up against your rivals, and seek by every means +to win this blind and confused mob over to your side? Finally, in your +literary reviews and in your magazines, why do you yourselves furnish +them with material and example for rash judgments by yourselves +judging as unconnectedly, as carelessly, as recklessly, and, for the +most part, as tastelessly as even the least of your readers could? +If you do not all think thus, and if among you there are still some +animated by better sentiments, why, then, do not these latter unite to +put an end to the evil? As to those men of affairs, in particular they +have passed through your schools--you say so yourselves. Why, then, +did you not at least make use of this transit of theirs to inspire in +them some silent respect for learning, and especially to break betimes +the self-conceit of the young aristocrat and to show him that +birth and station are of no assistance in the realm of thought? If, +perchance, even at that time you flattered him and exalted him unduly, +now endure that for which you yourselves are responsible. + +These addresses desire to excuse you on the supposition that you had +not grasped the importance of your occupation; they adjure you that, +from this hour, you make yourselves acquainted with this importance, +and that you no longer ply your occupation as a mere trade. Learn to +respect yourselves, and by your actions show that you do so, and the +world will respect you. You will give the first proof of this through +the amount of influence which you assume in regard to the resolution +that is proposed, and through the manner in which you conduct +yourselves regarding it. + +These addresses adjure you, princes of Germany! Those who act toward +you as though no man dared say aught to you, or had aught to say, are +despicable flatterers, are base slanderers of you yourselves. Drive +them far from you! The truth is that you were born exactly as ignorant +as all the rest of us, and that, exactly like ourselves, you must hear +and learn if you are to escape from this natural ignorance. Your share +in bringing about the fate which has befallen you simultaneously with +your peoples is here set forth in the mildest way and, as we believe, +in the way which is alone right and just; and in case you wish to +hear only flattery, and never the truth, you cannot complain regarding +these addresses. Let all this be forgotten, even as all the rest of us +also desire that our share in the guilt may be forgotten. Now begins +a new life as well for yourselves as for all of us. May this voice +penetrate to you through all the surroundings which normally make you +inaccessible! With proud self-reliance it dares to say to you: You +rule nations, faithful, plastic, and worthy of good fortune, such as +princes of no time and of no nation have ruled. They have a feeling +for freedom and are capable of it; but, because you so willed, they +have followed you into sanguinary war against that which to them +seemed freedom. Some among you have later willed otherwise, and, again +because you so willed, they have followed you into that which to them +must seem a war of annihilation against one of the last remnants of +German independence. Since that time they have endured and have borne +the oppressive burden of common woes; yet they do not cease to be +faithful to you, to cling to you with inward devotion, and to love +you as their divinely appointed guardians. Yet may you notice them, +unobserved by them; set free from surroundings which do not invariably +present to you the fairest aspect of humanity, may you be able to +descend into the house of the citizen, into the peasant's cottage, +and may you be able attentively to follow the still and hidden life of +these classes, in which the fidelity and the probity which have become +more rare in the higher classes seem to have sought refuge! Surely, +oh, surely, you will resolve to reflect more seriously than ever how +they may be helped! These addresses have proposed to you a means of +assistance which they believe to be sure, thorough, and decisive. Let +your councillors deliberate whether they also find it so or whether +they know a better means, provided only that it be equally decisive. +But the conviction that something must be done and must be done +immediately, that this something must be radical and final, and +that the time for half-measures and procrastination is past--this +conviction these addresses would fain produce, if they could, in +you personally, as they still cherish the utmost confidence in your +integrity. + +These addresses adjure you, Germans as a whole, whatever position +you may take in society, that each one among you who can think, think +first of all upon the theme that has been suggested, and that each one +do for it exactly what in his own place lies nearest to him. + +Your forefathers unite with these addresses and adjure you. Imagine +that in my voice are mingled the voices of your ancestors from dim +antiquity, who with their bodies opposed the on-rushing dominion of +the world-power of Rome, who with their blood won the independence of +the mountains, plains, and streams which, under your governance, have +become the booty of the stranger. They call to you: Represent us; +transmit to posterity our memory honorable and blameless as it came +to you, and as you have boasted of it and of descent from us. Thus far +our resistance has been held to be noble and great and wise; we seemed +to be initiated into the secrets of the divine plan of the universe. +If our race terminates with you, our honor is turned to shame and our +wisdom to folly. For if the German stock was some time to be merged +into that of Rome, it was better that this had been into the old Rome +than into a new. We faced the former and conquered it; before the +latter you have been scattered like the dust. Now, however, since +affairs are as they are, you are not to conquer them with physical +weapons; only your spirit is to rise and stand upright over against +them. To you has been vouchsafed the greater destiny of establishing +generally the empire of the spirit and of reason, and of wholly +annihilating rude physical power as that which dominates the world. If +you shall do this, then are you worthy of descent from us. + +In these voices also mingle the spirits of your later ancestors, of +those who fell in the holy struggle for freedom of religion and of +faith. Save our honor, likewise, they cry to you. It was not wholly +clear to us for what we fought. Besides the legitimate resolve not to +allow ourselves to be dominated in matters of conscience by a foreign +power, we were also impelled by a higher spirit who never revealed +himself entirely unto us. To you this spirit is revealed, if you have +the power to look into the spirit world, and he gazes upon you +with clear and lofty eyes. The motley and confused intermingling of +sensuous and of spiritual impulses is wholly to be deposed from +its world-dominion; and spirit alone, absolute, and stripped of all +sensuous impulses, is to take the helm of human affairs. Our blood was +shed that this spirit might have freedom to develop and to grow to an +independent existence. Upon you it depends to give to this sacrifice +its signification and its justification by installing this spirit into +the world-dominion destined for him. If this is not the final goal +toward which all the development of our nation has thus far aimed, +our struggles, too, become a passing, empty farce, and the freedom of +spirit and of conscience that we won is an empty word, if henceforth +there is to be no longer any spirit or any conscience whatsoever. + +Your descendants, still unborn, adjure you. You boast of your +forefathers, they cry to you, and proudly you connect yourselves with +a noble lineage. Take care that the chain may not be broken in you; so +do that we also may boast of you, and that through you, as through +a faultless link, we may connect ourselves with the same glorious +lineage. Cause us not to be compelled to be ashamed of our descent +from you as a descent that is low, barbarous, and slavish, so that +we must conceal our ancestry or must feign an alien name and an alien +lineage, lest we be immediately rejected or trodden under foot without +further test. On the next generation that will proceed from you, will +depend your fame in history: honorable, if this honorably witnesses +for you; but ignominious, even beyond desert, if you have no offspring +to speak for you, and if it is left to the victor to write your +history. Never yet has a victor had sufficient inclination or +sufficient knowledge rightly to judge the conquered. The more he +abases them, the more justified does he appear. Who can know what +mighty deeds, what magnificent institutions, and what noble customs of +many a people of antiquity have been forgotten because their posterity +was subjugated, and because, ungainsaid, the conqueror made his report +upon them in accordance with his interests? + +Even foreign lands adjure you so far as they still understand +themselves in the very least, and still have an eye for their true +advantage. Indeed, there are spirits among all peoples who still +cannot believe that the great promises made to the human race of a +reign of justice, of reason, and of truth can be a vain and an empty +phantom, and who assume, therefore, that the present iron age is but +a transit to a better state. They--and all modern humanity in +them--count on you. A great part of this humanity is descended from +us; the rest have received from us religion and culture. The former +adjure us by the soil of our common fatherland, which is also their +cradle, and which they have bequeathed free to us; the latter adjure +us by the culture which they have acquired from us as a pledge of a +higher happiness--they adjure us to maintain ourselves as we have ever +been, for their sake; and not to suffer this member, which is of so +much importance, to be torn from the continuity of the race that is +newly budded, lest they may painfully miss us if they some time need +our counsel, our example, our cooperation toward the true goal of +earthly life. + +All generations, all the wise and good who have ever breathed upon +this earth, all their thoughts and aspirations for something higher +mingle in these voices and surround you and lift to you imploring +hands. Even Providence, if we may so say, and the divine plan of the +universe in the creation of a human race--a plan which, indeed, exists +only to be thought out by man and to be realized by man--adjures you +to save its honor and its existence. Whether those are justified +who have believed that mankind must always grow better, and that +the conception of a certain order and dignity among them is no empty +dream, but the prophecy and the pledge of an ultimate actuality, +or whether those are to prevail who slumber on in their animal and +vegetative life, and who mock every flight to higher worlds-upon these +alternatives it is left to you to pass a final and decisive judgment. +The ancient world with its magnificence and with its grandeur, and +also with its faults, has sunk through its own unworthiness and +through your fathers' prowess. If there is truth in what has been +presented in these addresses, then, among all modern peoples, it is +you in whom the germ of the perfecting of humanity most decidedly +lies, and on whom progress in the development of this humanity is +enjoined. If you perish as a nation, all the hope of the entire human +race for rescue from the depths of its woe perishes together with you. +Do not hope and console yourselves with the imaginary idea, counting +on mere repetition of events that have already happened, that once +more, after the fall of the old civilization, a new one, proceeding +from a half-barbarous nation, will arise upon the ruins of the first. +In antiquity such a nation, equipped with all the requisites for +this destiny, was at hand, and was very well known to the nation of +culture, and was described by them; had they been able to imagine +their destruction, they themselves might have found in that +half-barbarous nation the means of their restoration. To us, also, the +entire surface of the earth is very well known, and all the peoples +that live upon it. Do we, then, now know any such people, like to +the aborigines of the New World, of whom similar expectations may be +entertained? I believe that every one who has not merely a fanatical +opinion and hope, but who thinks after profound investigation, will +be compelled to answer this question in the negative. There is, +therefore, no escape; if you sink, all humanity sinks with you, devoid +of hope of restoration at any future time. + +This it was, gentlemen, that at the close of these addresses I felt +compelled to impress upon you as representatives of the nation and, +through you, upon the nation as a whole. + + + + +_FRIEDRICH WILHELM JOSEPH VON SCHELLING_ + + * * * * * + +ON THE RELATION OF THE PLASTIC ARTS TO NATURE (1807) + +A Speech on the Celebration of the 12th October, 1807, as the Name-Day +of His Majesty the King of Bavaria + +Delivered before the Public Assembly of the Royal Academy of Sciences +of Munich + +TRANSLATED BY J. ELLIOT CABOT + + +Plastic Art, according to the most ancient expression, is silent +Poetry. The inventor of this definition no doubt meant thereby +that the former, like the latter, is to express spiritual +thoughts--conceptions whose source is the soul; only not by speech, +but, like silent Nature, by shape, by form, by corporeal, independent +works. + +Plastic Art, therefore, evidently stands as a uniting link between the +soul and Nature, and can be apprehended only in the living centre of +both. Indeed, since Plastic Art has its relation to the soul in common +with every other art, and particularly with Poetry, that by which +it is connected with Nature, and, like Nature, a productive force, +remains as its sole peculiarity; so that to this alone can a theory +relate which shall be satisfactory to the understanding, and helpful +and profitable to Art itself. + +We hope, therefore, in considering Plastic Art in relation to its +true prototype and original source, Nature, to be able to contribute +something new to its theory--to give some additional exactness or +clearness to the conceptions of it; but, above all, to set forth +the coherence of the whole structure of Art in the light of a higher +necessity. + +[Illustration: FRIEDRICH WILHELM JOSEPH VON SCHELLING Carl Begas] + +But has not Science always recognized this relation? Has not indeed +every theory of modern times taken its departure from this very +position, that Art should be the imitator of Nature? Such has indeed +been the case. But what should this broad general proposition +profit the artist, when the notion of Nature is of such various +interpretation, and when there are almost as many differing views of +it as there are various modes of life? Thus, to one, Nature is +nothing more than the lifeless aggregate of an indeterminable crowd +of objects, or the space in which, as in a vessel, he imagines things +placed; to another, only the soil from which he draws his nourishment +and support; to the inspired seeker alone, the holy, ever-creative +original energy of the world, which generates and busily evolves all +things out of itself. + +The proposition would indeed have a high significance, if it taught +Art to emulate this creative force; but the sense in which it was +meant can scarcely be doubtful to one acquainted with the universal +condition of Science at the time when it was first brought forward. +Singular enough that the very persons who denied all life to Nature +should set it up for imitation in Art! To them might be applied the +words of a profound writer:[5] "Your lying philosophy has put Nature +out of the way; and why do you call upon us to imitate her? Is it that +you may renew the pleasure by perpetrating the same violence on the +disciples of Nature?" + +Nature was to them not merely a dumb, but an altogether lifeless +image, in whose inmost being even no living word dwelt; a hollow +scaffolding of forms, of which as hollow an image was to be +transferred to the canvas, or hewn out of stone. + +This was the proper doctrine of those more ancient and savage nations, +who, as they saw in Nature nothing divine, fetched idols out of her; +whilst, to the susceptive Greeks, who everywhere felt the presence of +a vitally efficient principle, genuine gods arose out of Nature. + +But is, then, the disciple of Nature to copy everything in Nature +without distinction?--and, of everything, every part? Only beautiful +objects should be represented; and, even in these, only the Beautiful +and Perfect. + +Thus is the proposition further determined, but, at the same time, +this asserted, that, in Nature, the perfect is mingled with the +imperfect, the beautiful with the unbeautiful. Now, how should he who +stands in no other relation to Nature than that of servile imitation, +distinguish the one from the other? It is the way of imitators to +appropriate the faults of their model sooner and easier than its +excellences, since the former offer handles and tokens more easily +grasped; and thus we see that imitators of Nature in this sense have +imitated oftener, and even more affectionately, the ugly than the +beautiful. + +If we regard in things, not their principle, but the empty abstract +form, neither will they say anything to our soul; our own heart, our +own spirit we must put to it, that they answer us. + +But what is the perfection of a thing? Nothing else than the creative +life in it, its power to exist. Never, therefore, will he, who fancies +that Nature is altogether dead, be successful in that profound process +(analogous to the chemical) whence proceeds, purified as by fire, the +pure gold of Beauty and Truth. + +Nor was there any change in the main view of the relation of Art to +Nature, even when the unsatisfactoriness of the principle began to +be more generally felt; no change, even by the new views and new +knowledge so nobly established by John Winckelmann. He indeed restored +to the soul its full efficiency in Art, and raised it from its +unworthy dependence into the realm of spiritual freedom. Powerfully +moved by the beauty of form in the works of antiquity, he taught that +the production of ideal Nature, of Nature elevated above the Actual, +together with the expression of spiritual conceptions, is the highest +aim of Art. + +But if we examine in what sense this surpassing of the Actual by Art +has been understood by the most, it turns out that, with this view +also, the notion of Nature as mere product, of things as a lifeless +result, still continued; and the idea of a living creative Nature +was in no wise awakened by it. Thus these ideal forms also could be +animated by no positive insight into their nature; and if the forms +of the Actual were dead for the dead beholder, these were not less so. +Were no independent production of the Actual possible, neither would +there be of the Ideal. The object of the imitation was changed; +the imitation remained. In the place of Nature were substituted the +sublime works of Antiquity, whose outward forms the pupils busied +themselves in imitating, but without the spirit that fills them. These +forms, however, are as unapproachable, nay, more so, than the works of +Nature, and leave us yet colder if we bring not to them the spiritual +eye to penetrate through the veil and feel the stirring energy within. + +On the other hand, artists, since that time, have indeed received a +certain ideal impetus, and notions of a beauty superior to matter; +but these notions were like fair words, to which the deeds do not +correspond. While the previous method in Art produced bodies without +soul, this view taught only the secret of the soul, but not that of +the body. The theory had, as usual, passed with one hasty stride to +the opposite extreme; but the vital mean it had not yet found. + +Who can say that Winckelmann had not penetrated into the highest +beauty? But with him it appeared in its dissevered elements only: on +the one side as beauty in idea, and flowing out from the soul; on the +other, as beauty of forms. + +But what is the efficient link that connects the two? Or by what power +is the soul created together with the body, at once and as if with one +breath? If this lies not within the power of Art, as of Nature, +then it can create nothing whatever. This vital connecting link, +Winckelmann did not determine; he did not teach how, from the idea, +forms can be produced. Thus Art went over to that method which we +would call the retrograde, since it strives from the form to come +at the essence. But not thus is the Unlimited reached; it is not +attainable by mere enhancement of the Limited. Hence, such works as +have had their beginning in form, with all elaborateness on that side, +show, in token of their origin, an incurable want at the very point +where we expect the consummate, the essential, the final. The miracle +by which the Limited should be raised to the Unlimited, the human +become divine, is wanting; the magic circle is drawn, but the spirit +that it should inclose, appears not, being disobedient to the call of +him who thought a creation possible through mere form. + + * * * * * + +Nature meets us everywhere, at first with reserve, and in form more or +less severe. She is like that quiet and serious beauty, that excites +not attention by noisy advertisement, nor attracts the vulgar gaze. + +How can we, as it were, spiritually melt this apparently rigid form, +so that the pure energy of things may flow together with the force of +our spirit and both become one united mold? We must transcend Form, +in order to gain it again as intelligible, living, and truly felt. +Consider the most beautiful forms; what remains behind after you have +abstracted from them the creative principle within? Nothing but mere +unessential qualities, such as extension and the relations of space. +Does the fact that one portion of matter exists near another, and +distinct from it, contribute anything to its inner essence? or does +it not rather contribute nothing? Evidently the latter. It is not mere +contiguous existence, but the manner of it, that makes form; and this +can be determined only by a positive force, which is even opposed to +separateness, and subordinates the manifoldness of the parts to the +unity of one idea--from the force that works in the crystal to the +force which, comparable to a gentle magnetic current, gives to the +particles of matter in the human form that position and arrangement +among themselves, through which the idea, the essential unity and +beauty, can become visible. + +Not only, however, as active principle, but as spirit and effective +science, must the essence appear to us in the form, in order that we +may truly apprehend it. For all unity must be spiritual in nature and +origin; and what is the aim of all investigation of Nature but to find +science therein? For that wherein there is no Understanding cannot +be the object of Understanding; the Unknowing cannot be known. The +science by which Nature works is not, however, like human science, +connected with reflection upon itself; in it, the conception is not +separate from the act, nor the design from the execution. Therefore, +rude matter strives, as it were, blindly, after regular shape, +and unknowingly assumes pure stereometric forms, which belong, +nevertheless, to the realm of ideas, and are something spiritual in +the material. + +The sublimest arithmetic and geometry are innate in the stars, and +unconsciously displayed by them in their motions. More distinctly, but +still beyond their grasp, the living cognition appears in animals; +and thus we see them, though wandering about without reflection, bring +about innumerable results far more excellent than themselves: the bird +that, intoxicated with music, transcends itself in soul-like tones; +the little artistic creature, that, without practise or instruction, +accomplishes light works of architecture; but all directed by an +overpowering spirit, that lightens in them already with single flashes +of knowledge, but as yet appears nowhere as the full sun, as in Man. + +This formative science in Nature and Art is the link that connects +idea and form, body and soul. Before everything stands an eternal +idea, formed in the Infinite Understanding; but by what means does +this idea pass into actuality and embodiment? Only through the +creative science that is as necessarily connected with the Infinite +Understanding, as in the artist the principle that seizes the idea +of unsensuous Beauty is linked with that which sets it forth to the +senses. + +If that artist be called happy and praiseworthy before all to whom +the gods have granted this creative spirit, then that work of art will +appear excellent which shows to us, as in outline, this unadulterated +energy of creation and activity of Nature. + +It was long ago perceived that, in Art, not everything is performed +with consciousness; that, with the conscious activity, an unconscious +action must combine; and that it is of the perfect unity and mutual +interpenetration of the two that the highest in Art is born. + +Works that want this seal of unconscious science are recognized by +the evident absence of life self-supported and independent of the +producer; as, on the contrary, where this acts, Art imparts to its +work, together with the utmost clearness to the understanding, that +unfathomable reality wherein it resembles a work of Nature. + +It has often been attempted to make clear the position of the artist +in regard to Nature, by saying that Art, in order to be such, must +first withdraw itself from Nature, and return to it only in the final +perfection. The true sense of this saying, it seems to us, can be no +other than this--that in all things in Nature, the living idea shows +itself only blindly active; were it so also in the artist, he would be +in nothing distinct from Nature. But, should he attempt consciously to +subordinate himself altogether to the Actual, and render with servile +fidelity the already existing, he would produce _larvae_, but no works +of Art. He must therefore withdraw himself from the product, from the +creature, but only in order to raise himself to the creative energy, +spiritually seizing the same. Thus he ascends into the realm of +pure ideas; he forsakes the creature, to regain it with thousandfold +interest, and in this sense certainly to return to Nature. This spirit +of Nature working at the core of things, and speaking through form +and shape as by symbols only, the artist must certainly follow with +emulation; and only so far as he seizes this with genial imitation +has he himself produced anything genuine. For works produced by +aggregation, even of forms beautiful in themselves, would still be +destitute of all beauty, since that, through which the work on the +whole is truly beautiful, cannot be mere form. It is above form--it +is Essence, the Universal, the look and expression of the indwelling +spirit of Nature. + +Now it can scarcely be doubtful what is to be thought of the so-called +idealizing of Nature in Art, so universally demanded. This demand +seems to arise from a way of thinking, according to which not Truth, +Beauty, Goodness, but the contrary of all these, is the Actual. Were +the Actual indeed opposed to Truth and Beauty, it would be necessary +for the artist, not to elevate or idealize it, but to get rid of and +destroy it, in order to create something true and beautiful. But how +should it be possible for anything to be actual except the True; and +what is Beauty, if not full, complete Being? + +What higher aim, therefore, could Art have, than to represent that +which in Nature actually _is_? Or how should it undertake to excel +so-called actual Nature, since it must always fall short of it? + +For does Art impart to its works actual, sensuous life? This statue +breathes not, is stirred by no pulsation, warmed by no blood. + +But both the pretended excelling and the apparent falling short show +themselves as the consequences of one and the same principle, as soon +as we place the aim of Art in the exhibiting of that which truly is. + +Only on the surface have its works the appearance of life; in Nature, +life seems to reach deeper, and to be wedded entirely with matter. +But does not the continual mutation of matter and the universal lot +of final dissolution teach us the unessential character of this union, +and that it is no intimate fusion? Art, accordingly, in the merely +superficial animation of its works, but represents Nothingness as +non-existing. + +How comes it that, to every tolerably cultivated taste, imitations of +the so-called Actual, even though carried to deception, appear in the +last degree untrue--nay, produce the impression of spectres; whilst a +work in which the idea is predominant strikes us with the full force +of truth, conveying us then only to the genuinely actual world? Whence +comes it, if not from the more or less obscure feeling which tells us +that the idea alone is the living principle in things, but all else +unessential and vain shadow? + +On the same ground may be explained all the opposite cases which +are brought up as instances of the surpassing of Nature by Art. In +arresting the rapid course of human years; in uniting the energy of +developed manhood with the soft charm of early youth; or exhibiting +a mother of grown-up sons and daughters in the full possession of +vigorous beauty--what does Art except to annul what is unessential, +Time? + +If, according to the remark of a discerning critic, every growth in +Nature has but an instant of truly complete beauty, we may also say +that it has, too, only an instant of full existence. In this instant +it is what it is in all eternity; besides this, it has only a coming +into and a passing out of existence. Art, in representing the thing +at that instant, removes it out of Time, and sets it forth in its pure +Being, in the eternity of its life. + +After everything positive and essential had once been abstracted from +Form, it necessarily appeared restrictive, and, as it were, hostile, +to the Essence; and the same theory that had reproduced the false and +powerless Ideal, necessarily tended to the formless in Art. Form would +indeed be a limitation of the Essence if it existed independent of it. +But if it exists with and by means of the Essence, how could this feel +itself limited by that which it has itself created? Violence +would indeed be done it by a form forced upon it, but never by +one proceeding from itself. In this, on the contrary, it must rest +contented, and feel its own existence to be perfect and complete. + +Determinateness of form is in Nature never a negation, but ever +an affirmation. Commonly, indeed, the shape of a body seems a +confinement; but could we behold the creative energy it would reveal +itself as the measure that this energy imposes upon itself, and in +which it shows itself a truly intelligent force; for in everything +is the power of self-rule allowed to be an excellence, and one of the +highest. + +In like manner most persons consider the particular in a negative +manner--i.e., as that which is not the whole or all. Yet no +particular exists by means of its limitation, but through the +indwelling force with which it maintains itself as a particular Whole, +in distinction from the Universe. + +This force of particularity, and thus also of individuality, +showing itself as vital character, the negative conception of it +is necessarily followed by an unsatisfying and false view of the +characteristic in Art. Lifeless and of intolerable hardness would be +the Art that should aim to exhibit the empty shell or limitation of +the Individual. Certainly we desire to see not merely the individual, +but, more than this, its vital Idea. But if the artist has seized the +inward creative spirit and essence of the Idea, and sets this forth, +he makes the individual a world in itself, a class, an eternal +prototype; and he who has grasped the essential character needs not +to fear hardness and severity, for these are the conditions of life. +Nature, that in her completeness appears as the utmost benignity, +we see, in each particular, aiming even primarily and principally at +severity, seclusion and reserve. As the whole creation is the work +of the utmost externization and renunciation [Entaeusserung], so +the artist must first deny himself and descend into the Particular, +without shunning isolation, nor the pain, the anguish of Form. + +Nature, from her first works, is throughout characteristic; the energy +of fire, the splendor of light, she shuts up in hard stone, the tender +soul of melody in severe metal; even on the threshold of Life, and +already meditating organic shape, she sinks back overpowered by the +might of Form, into petrifaction. + +The life of the plant consists in still receptivity, but in what +exact and severe outline is this passive life inclosed! In the animal +kingdom the strife between Life and Form seems first properly to +begin; her first works Nature hides in hard shells, and, where these +are laid aside, the animated world attaches itself again through its +constructive impulse to the realm of crystallization. Finally +she comes forward more boldly and freely, and vital, important +characteristics show themselves, being the same through whole classes. +Art, however, cannot begin so far down as Nature. Though Beauty is +spread everywhere, yet there are various grades in the appearance +and unfolding of the Essence, and thus of Beauty. But Art demands a +certain fulness, and desires not to strike a single note or tone, nor +even a detached accord, but at once the full symphony of Beauty. + +Art, therefore, prefers to grasp immediately at the highest and most +developed, the human form. For since it is not given it to embrace +the immeasurable whole, and as in all other creatures only single +fulgurations, in Man alone full entire Being appears without +abatement, Art is not only permitted but required to see the sum of +Nature in Man alone. But precisely on this account--that she here +assembles all in one point--Nature repeats her whole multiformity, and +pursues again in a narrower compass the same course that she had gone +through in her wide circuit. + +Here, therefore, arises the demand upon the artist first to be true +and faithful in detail, in order to come forth complete and beautiful +in the whole. Here he must wrestle with the creative spirit of Nature +(which in the human world also deals out character and stamp in +endless variety), not in weak and effeminate, but stout and courageous +conflict. + +Persevering exercise in the study of that by virtue of which the +characteristic in things is a positive principle, must preserve him +from emptiness, weakness, inward inanity, before he can venture to +aim, by ever higher combination and final melting together of manifold +forms, to reach the extremest beauty in works uniting the highest +simplicity with infinite meaning. + +Only through the perfection of form can Form be made to disappear; and +this is certainly the final aim of Art in the Characteristic. But as +the apparent harmony that is even more easily reached by the empty and +frivolous than by others, is yet inwardly vain; so in Art the quickly +attained harmony of the exterior, without inward fulness. And if it is +the part of theory and instruction to oppose the spiritless copying +of beautiful forms, especially must they oppose the tendency toward +an effeminate characterless Art, which gives itself, indeed, higher +names, but therewith only seeks to hide its incapacity to fulfil the +fundamental conditions. + +That lofty Beauty in which the fulness of form causes Form itself to +disappear, was adopted by the modern theory of Art, after Winckelmann, +not only as the highest, but as the only standard. But as the deep +foundation upon which it rests was overlooked, it resulted that a +negative conception was formed even of that which is the sum of all +affirmation. + +Winckelmann compares Beauty with water drawn from the bosom of the +spring, which, the less taste it has, the wholesomer it is esteemed. +It is true that the highest Beauty is characterless, but so we say +of the Universe that it has no determinate dimension, neither length, +breadth nor depth, since it has all in equal infinity; or that the Art +of creative Nature is formless, because she herself is subjected to no +form. + +In this and in no other sense can we say that Grecian art in its +highest development rises into the characterless; but it did not aim +immediately at this. It was from the bonds of Nature that it struggled +upward to divine freedom. From no lightly scattered seed, but only +from a deeply infolded kernel, could this heroic growth spring up. +Only mighty emotions, only a deep stirring of the fancy through the +impression of all-enlivening, all-commanding energies of Nature, +could stamp upon Art that invincible vigor with which from the rigid, +secluded earnestness of earlier productions up to the period of works +overflowing with sensuous grace, it ever remained faithful to truth, +and produced the highest spiritual Reality which it is given to +mortals to behold. + +In like manner, as their Tragedy commences with the grandest +characteristicness in morals, so the beginning of their Plastic Art +was the earnestness of Nature, and the stern goddess of Athens its +first and only Muse. + +This epoch is marked by that style which Winckelmann describes as the +still harsh and severe, from which the next or lofty style was able to +develop itself by the mere enhancement of the Characteristic into the +Sublime and the Simple. + +For in the statues of the most perfect or divine natures not only +all the complexity of form of which human nature is capable had to +be united, but moreover the union must be such as may be conceived to +exist in the system of the Universe itself--the lower forms, or those +relating to inferior attributes, being comprehended under higher, and +all at last under one supreme form, in which they indeed extinguish +one another as separately existing, but still continue in Essence and +efficiency. + +Thus, though we cannot call this high and self-sufficing Beauty +characteristic, so far as herewith is connected the notion of +limitation or conditionality in the manifestation, yet still the +characteristic continues efficient, though indistinguishable, within; +as in the crystal, although transparent, the texture nevertheless +remains; each characteristic element has its weight, however slight, +and helps to bring about the sublime equipoise of Beauty. + +The outer side or basis of all Beauty is beauty of form. But as +Form cannot exist without Essence, wherever Form is, there also is +Character, whether in visible presence or only perceptible in its +effects. Characteristic Beauty, therefore, is Beauty in the root, +from which alone Beauty can arise as the fruit. Essence may, indeed, +outgrow Form, but even then the Characteristic remains as the still +efficient groundwork of the Beautiful. + +That most excellent critic,[6] to whom the gods have given sway over +Nature as well as Art, compares the Characteristic in its relation to +Beauty, with the skeleton in its relation to the living form. Were we +to interpret this striking simile in our sense, we should say that +the skeleton, in Nature, is not, as in our thought, detached from the +living whole; that the firm and the yielding, the determining and +the determined, mutually presuppose each other, and can exist only +together; thus that the vitally Characteristic is already the whole +form, the result of the action and reaction of bone and flesh, of +Active and Passive. And although Art, like Nature, in its higher +developments, thrusts inward the previously visible skeleton, yet the +latter can never be opposed to Shape and Beauty, since it has always +a determining share in the production of the one as well as of the +other. + +But whether that high and independent Beauty should be the only +standard in Art, as it is the highest, seems to depend on the degree +of fulness and extent that belongs to the particular Art. + +Nature, in her wide circumference, ever exhibits the higher with the +lower; creating in Man the godlike, she elaborates in all her other +productions only its material and foundation, which must exist in +order that in contrast with it the Essence as such may appear. And +even in the higher world of Man the great mass serves again as the +basis upon which the godlike that is preserved pure in the few, +manifests itself in legislation, government, and the establishment of +Religion. So that wherever Art works with more of the complexity of +Nature, it may and must display, together with the highest measure of +Beauty, also its groundwork and raw material, as it were, in distinct +appropriate forms. + +Here first prominently unfolds itself the difference in Nature of the +forms of Art. + +Plastic Art, in the more exact sense of the term, disdains to give +Space outwardly to the object, but bears it within itself. This, +however, narrows its field; it is compelled, indeed, to display the +beauty of the Universe almost in a single point. It must therefore aim +immediately at the highest, and can attain complexity only separately +and in the strictest exclusion of all conflicting elements. By +isolating the purely animal in human nature it succeeds in forming +inferior creations too, harmonious and even beautiful, as we are +taught by the beauty of numerous Fauns preserved from antiquity; yea, +it can, parodying itself like the merry spirit of Nature, reverse +its own Ideal, and, for instance, in the extravagance of the Silenic +figures, by light and sportive treatment appear freed again from the +pressure of matter. + +But in all cases it is compelled strictly to isolate the work, in +order to make it self-consistent and a world in itself; since for +this form of Art there is no higher unity, in which the dissonance of +particulars should be melted into harmony. + +Painting, on the contrary, in the very extent of its sphere, can +better measure itself with the Universe, and create with epic +profusion. In an Iliad there is room even for a Thersites; and what +does not find a place in the great epic of Nature and History! + +Here the Particular scarcely counts anything by itself; the Universe +takes its place, and that, which by itself would not be beautiful, +becomes so in the harmony of the whole. If in an extensive painting, +uniting forms by the allotted space, by light, by shade, by +reflection, the highest measure of Beauty were everywhere employed, +the result would be the most unnatural monotony; for, as Winckelmann +says, the highest idea of Beauty is everywhere one and the same, and +scarcely admits of variation. The detail would be preferred to +the whole, where, as in every case in which the whole is formed by +multiplicity, the detail must be subordinate to it. + +[Illustration: THE JUNGFRAU _From the Painting by Moritz von Schwind_] + +In such a work, therefore, a gradation of Beauty must be observed, by +which alone the full Beauty concentrated in the focus becomes visible; +and from an exaggeration of particulars proceeds an equipoise of the +whole. Here, then, the limited and characteristic finds its place; and +theory at least should direct the painter, not so much to the narrow +space in which the entire Beauty is concentrically collected, as to +the characteristic complexity of Nature, through which alone he can +impart to an extensive work the full measure of living significance. + +Thus thought, among the founders of modern art, the noble Leonardo; +thus Raphael, the master of high Beauty, who shunned not to exhibit +it in smaller measure, rather than to appear monotonous, lifeless, and +unreal--though he understood not only how to produce it, but also how +to break up uniformity by variety of expression. + +For, although Character can show itself also in rest and equilibrium +of form, it is only in action that it becomes truly alive. + +By character we understand a unity of several forces, operating +constantly to produce among them a certain equipoise and determinate +proportion, to which, if undisturbed, a like equipoise in the symmetry +of the forms corresponds. But if this vital Unity is to display itself +in act and operation, this can only be when the forces, excited by +some cause to rebellion, forsake their equilibrium. Every one sees +that this is the case in the Passions. + +Here we are met by the well-known maxim of the theorists, which +demands that Passion should be moderated as far as possible, in its +actual outburst, that beauty of Form may not be injured. But we think +this maxim should rather be reversed, and read thus--that Passion +should be moderated by Beauty itself. For it is much to be feared that +this desired moderation too may be taken in a negative sense--whereas, +what is really requisite is to oppose to Passion a positive force. For +as Virtue consists, not in the absence of passions, but in the mastery +of the spirit over them, so Beauty is preserved, not by their removal +or abatement, but by the mastery of Beauty over them. + +The forces of Passion must actually show themselves--it must be seen +that they are prepared to rise in mutiny, but are kept down by the +power of Character, and break against the forms of firmly-founded +Beauty, as the waves of a stream that just fills, but cannot overflow +its banks. Otherwise, this striving after moderation would resemble +only the method of those shallow moralists, who, the more readily +to dispose of Man, prefer to mutilate his nature; and who have so +entirely removed every positive element from actions that the +people gloat over the spectacle of great crimes, in order to refresh +themselves at last with the view of something positive. + +In Nature and Art the Essence strives first after actualization, +or exhibition of itself in the Particular. Thus in each the utmost +severity is manifested at the commencement; for without bound, the +boundless could not appear; without severity, gentleness could not +exist; and if unity is to be perceptible, it can only be through +particularity, detachment, and opposition. In the beginning, +therefore, the creative spirit shows itself entirely lost in the Form, +inaccessibly shut up, and even in its grandeur still harsh. But the +more it succeeds in uniting its entire fulness in one product, the +more it gradually relaxes from its severity; and where it has fully +developed the form, so as to rest contented and self-collected in it, +it seems to become cheerful and begins to move in gentle lines. This +is the period of its fairest maturity and blossom, in which the pure +vessel has arrived at perfection; the spirit of Nature becomes free +from its bonds, and feels its relationship to the soul. By a gentle +morning blush stealing over the whole form, the coming soul announces +itself; it is not yet present, but everything prepares for its +reception by the delicate play of gentle movements; the rigid outlines +melt and temper themselves into flexibility; a lovely essence, neither +sensuous nor spiritual, but which cannot be grasped, diffuses itself +over the form, and intwines itself with every outline, every vibration +of the frame. + +This essence, not to be seized, as we have already remarked, but yet +perceptible to all, is what the language of the Greeks designated by +the name _Charis_, ours as Grace. + +Wherever, in a fully developed form, Grace appears, the work is +complete on the side of Nature; nothing more is wanting; all demands +are satisfied. Here, already, soul and body are in complete harmony; +Body is Form, Grace is Soul, although not Soul in itself, but the Soul +of Form, or the Soul of Nature. + +Art may linger, and remain stationary at this point; for already, +on one side at least, its whole task is finished. The pure image of +Beauty arrested at this point is the Goddess of Love. + +But the beauty of the Soul in itself, joined to sensuous Grace, is the +highest apotheosis of Nature. + +The spirit of Nature is only in appearance opposed to the Soul; +essentially, it is the instrument of its revelation; it brings about +indeed the antagonism that exists in all things, but only that the +one essence may come forth, as the utmost benignity, and the +reconciliation of all the forces. + +All other creatures are driven by the mere force of Nature, and +through it maintain their individuality; in Man alone, as the central +point, arises the soul, without which the world would be like the +natural universe without the sun. The Soul in Man, therefore, is not +the principle of individuality, but that whereby he raises himself +above all egoism, whereby he becomes capable of self-sacrifice, of +disinterested love, and (which is the highest) of the contemplation +and knowledge of the Essence of things, and thus of Art. + +In him it is no longer concerned about Matter nor has it immediate +concern with it, but with the spirit only as the life of things. +Even while appearing in the body, it is yet free from the body, the +consciousness of which hovers in the soul in the most beauteous shapes +only as a light, undisturbing dream. It is no quality, no faculty, nor +anything special of the sort; it knows not, but is Science; it is +not good, but Goodness; it is not beautiful, as body even may be, but +Beauty itself. + +In the first instance, it is true, in a work of art, the soul of the +artist is seen as invention in the detail, and in the total result as +the unity that hovers over the work in serene stillness. But the Soul +must be visible in objective representation, as the primeval energy +of thought, in portraitures of human beings, altogether filled by an +idea, by a noble contemplation; or as indwelling, essential Goodness. + +Each of these finds its distinct expression even in the completest +repose, but a more living one where the Soul can reveal itself in +activity and antagonism; and since it is by the passions mainly that +the peace of life is interrupted, it is the generally received opinion +that the beauty of the Soul shows itself especially in its quiet +supremacy amid the storm of the passions. + +But here an important distinction is to be made. For the Soul must not +be called upon to moderate those passions which are only an outbreak +of the lower spirits of Nature, nor can it be displayed in antithesis +with these; for where calm considerateness is still in contention +with them, the Soul has not yet appeared; they must be moderated by +unassisted Nature in Man, by the might of the Spirit. But there are +cases of a higher sort, in which not a single force alone, but the +intelligent Spirit itself breaks down all barriers--cases, indeed, +where even the Soul is subjected by the bond that connects it with +sensuous existence, to pain, which should be foreign to its divine +nature; where Man feels himself hard fought and attacked in the root +of his existence, not by mere powers of Nature, but by moral forces; +where innocent error hurries him into crime, and thus into misery; +where deep-felt injustice excites to rebellion the holiest feelings of +humanity. + +This is the case in all situations, truly, and, in a high sense, +tragic, such as the Tragedy of the ancients brings before our eyes. +Where blindly passionate forces are aroused, the collected Spirit is +present as the guardian of Beauty; but if the Spirit itself be carried +away, as by an irresistible might, what power shall watch over +and protect sacred beauty? Or, if even the soul participate in the +struggle, how shall it save itself from pain and from desecration? + +Arbitrarily to restrain the power of pain, of feeling in revolt, would +be to sin against the very meaning and aim of Art, and would betray a +want of feeling and soul in the artist himself. + +Already therein, that Beauty, based on grand and firmly established +forms, has become Character, Art has provided the means of displaying +without injury to symmetry the whole intensity of Feeling. For where +Beauty rests on mighty forms, as upon immovable pillars, even a slight +change in its relations, scarcely touching the form, causes us to +infer the great force that was necessary in order to provide it. Still +more does Grace sanctify pain. It is the essential nature of Grace +that it does not know itself; but not being wilfully acquired, it also +cannot be wilfully lost. When intolerable anguish, when even madness, +sent by avenging gods, takes away consciousness and reason, Grace +stands as a protecting demon by the suffering person, and prevents it +from manifesting anything unseemly, anything discordant to Humanity, +but sees to it that, if the person falls, it falls at least a pure and +unspotted victim. + +Although not yet the Soul itself, but its forebodings only, Grace +accomplishes by natural means what the Soul does by a divine power, in +transforming pain, torpor, even death itself, into Beauty. + +Yet Grace, which thus maintained itself in the extremest adversity, +would be dead, without its transfiguration by the Soul. But what +expression can belong to the Soul in this situation? It delivers +itself from pain, and comes forth conquering, not conquered, by +relinquishing its connection with sensuous existence. + +It is for the natural Spirit to exert its energies for the +preservation of sensuous existence; the Soul enters not into +this contest, but its presence moderates even the storms of +painfully-struggling life. Outward force can take away only outward +goods, but not reach the Soul; it can tear asunder a temporal bond, +not dissolve the eternal one of a truly divine love. Not hard and +unfeeling, nor giving up love itself, on the contrary the Soul +displays in pain this love alone, as the sentiment that outlasts +sensuous existence, and thus raises itself above the ruins of outward +life or fortune in divine glory. + +It is this expression of the Soul that the creator of the Niobe has +presented to us. All the means by which Art tempers even the Terrible, +are here made use of. Mightiness of form, sensuous Grace, nay, even +the nature of the subject-matter itself, soften the expression, +through this, that Pain, transcending all expression, annihilates +itself, and Beauty, which it seemed impossible to preserve from +destruction when alive, is protected from injury by the commencing +torpor. + +But what would it all be without the Soul, and how does this manifest +itself? + +We see on the countenance of the mother, not grief alone for the +already prostrated flower of her children; not alone deadly anxiety +for the preservation of those yet remaining, and of the youngest +daughter, who has fled for safety to her bosom; nor resentment against +the cruel deities; least of all, as is pretended, cool defiance-all +these we see, indeed, but not these alone; for, through grief, +anxiety, and resentment streams, like a divine light, eternal love, as +that which alone remains; and in this is preserved the mother, as +one who was not, but now is a mother, and who remains united with the +beloved ones by an eternal bond. + +Every one acknowledges that greatness, purity, and goodness of Soul +have also their sensuous expressions. But how is this conceivable, +unless the principle that acts in Matter be itself cognate and similar +to Soul? + +For the representation of the Soul there are again gradations in +Art, according as it is joined with the merely Characteristic, or in +visible union with the Charming and Graceful. + +Who perceives not already, in the tragedies of AEschylus, the presence +of that lofty morality which is predominant in the works of Sophocles? +But in the former it is enveloped in a bitter rind, and passes +less into the whole work, since the bond of sensuous Grace is still +wanting. But out of this severity, and the still rude charms of +earlier Art, could proceed the grace of Sophocles, and with it the +complete fusion of the two elements, which leaves us doubtful whether +it is more moral or sensuous Grace that enchants us in the works of +this poet. + +The same is true of the plastic productions of the early and severe +style, in comparison with the gentleness of the later. + +If Grace, besides being the transfiguration of the spirit of Nature, +is also the medium of connection between moral Goodness and sensuous +Appearance, it is evident how Art must tend from all points toward +it as its centre. This Beauty, which results from the perfect +interpenetration of moral Goodness and sensuous Grace, seizes and +enchants us when we meet it, with the force of a miracle. For, whilst +the spirit of Nature shows itself everywhere else independent of the +Soul, and, indeed, in a measure opposed to it, here, it seems, as if +by voluntary accord, and the inward fire of divine love, to melt into +union with it; the remembrance of the fundamental unity of the essence +of Nature and the essence of the Soul comes over the beholder with +sudden clearness--the conviction that all antagonism is only apparent, +that Love is the bond of all things, and pure Goodness the foundation +and substance of the whole Creation. + +Here Art, as it were, transcends itself, and again becomes means only. +On this summit sensuous Grace becomes in turn only the husk and body +of a higher life; what was before a whole is treated as a part, and +the highest relation of Art and Nature is reached in this--that it +makes Nature the medium of manifesting the soul which it contains. + +But though in this blossoming of Art, as in the blossoming of the +vegetable kingdom, all the previous stages are repeated, yet, on the +other hand, we may see in what various directions Art can proceed from +this centre. Especially does the difference in nature of the two +forms of Plastic Art here show itself most strongly. For Sculpture, +representing its ideas by corporeal things, seems to reach its highest +point in the complete equilibrium of Soul and Matter--if it give a +preponderance to the latter it sinks below its own idea--but it seems +altogether impossible for it to elevate the Soul at the expense of +Matter, since it must thereby transcend itself. The perfect sculptor +indeed, as Winckelmann remarks apropos of the Belvedere Apollo, will +use no more material than is needful to accomplish his spiritual +purpose; but also, on the other hand, he will put into the Soul no +more energy than is at the same time expressed in the material; for +precisely upon this, fully to embody the spiritual, depends his +art. Sculpture, therefore, can reach its true summit only in the +representation of those natures in whose constitution it is implied +that they actually embody all that is contained in their Idea or Soul; +thus only in divine natures. So that Sculpture, even if no Mythology +had preceded it, would of itself have come upon gods, and have +invented such if it found none. + +Moreover as the Spirit, on this lower platform, has again the same +relation to Matter that we have ascribed to the Soul (being the +principle of activity and motion, as Matter is that of rest and +inaction), the law that regulates Expression and Passion must be a +fundamental principle of its nature. + +But this law must be applicable not only to the lower passions, but +also equally to those higher and godlike passions, if it is permitted +so to call them, by which the Soul is affected in rapture, in +devotion, in adoration. Hence, since from these passions the gods +alone are exempt, Sculpture is inclined from this side also to the +imaging of divine natures. + +The nature of Painting, however, seems to differ entirely from that of +Sculpture. For the former represents objects, not like the latter, by +corporeal things, but by light and color, through a medium therefore +itself incorporeal and in a measure spiritual. Painting, moreover, +gives out its productions nowise as the things themselves, but +expressly as pictures. From its very nature therefore it does not lay +as much stress on the material as Sculpture, and seems indeed for +this reason, while exalting the material above the spirit, to degrade +itself more than Sculpture in a like case; on the other hand to be so +much more justified in giving a clear preponderance to the Soul. + +Where it aims at the highest it will indeed ennoble the passions by +Character, or moderate them by Grace, or manifest in them the power of +the Soul: but on the other hand it is precisely those higher passions, +depending on the relationship of the Soul with a Supreme Being, that +are entirely suited to the nature of Painting. Indeed, while Sculpture +maintains an exact balance between the force whereby a thing exists +outwardly and acts in Nature and that by virtue of which it lives +inwardly and as Soul, and excludes mere suffering even from Matter, +Painting may soften in favor of the Soul the characteristicness of the +force and activity in Matter, and transform it into resignation +and endurance, making it apparent that Man becomes more generally +susceptible to the inspirations of the Soul, and to higher influences +in general. + +This diametrical difference explains of itself not only the necessary +predominance of Sculpture in the ancient, and of Painting in the +modern world (since in the former the tone of mind was thoroughly +plastic, whereas the latter makes even the Soul the passive instrument +of higher revelations); but this also is evident--that it is +not enough to strive after the Plastic in form and manner of +representation, but that it is requisite, before all, to think and to +feel plastically, that is, antiquely. + +And as the deviation of Sculpture into the picturesque is destructive +to Art, so the narrowing down of Painting to the conditions and forms +belonging to Sculpture is an arbitrarily imposed limitation. For while +Sculpture, like gravitation, acts toward one point, it is permitted to +Painting, as to light, to fill all space with its creative energy. + +This unlimited universality of Painting is demonstrated by History +itself, and by the examples of the greatest masters, who, without +injury to the essential character of their art, have developed to +perfection each particular stage by itself, so that we can find also +in the history of Art the same sequence that may be pointed out in its +nature--not indeed in exact order of time, but yet substantially. For +thus is represented in Michelangelo the oldest and mightiest epoch of +liberated Art, that in which it displays its yet uncontrolled strength +in gigantic progeny; as in the fables of the symbolic Fore-world, the +Earth, after the embrace of Uranus, brought forth at first Titans and +heaven-storming giants before the mild reign of the serene gods began. + +Thus the painting of the Last Judgment, with which, as the sum of his +art, that giant spirit filled the Sistine Chapel, seems to remind +us more of the first ages of the Earth and its products, than of +its last. Attracted toward the most hidden abysses of organic, +particularly of the human form, he shuns not the Terrible; nay, +he seeks it purposely, and startles it from its repose in the dark +workshops of Nature. Want of delicacy, grace, pleasingness, he +balances by the extremest energy; and if he excites horror by his +representations, it is the terror that, according to fable, the +ancient god Pan spreads around him when he suddenly appears in the +assemblies of men. + +It is the method of Nature to produce the extraordinary by isolation +and the exclusion of opposed qualities. Thus, it was necessary that, +in Michelangelo, earnestness and the deep significant energy of Nature +should prevail, rather than a sense of the grace and sensibility that +belong to the Soul, in order to display the extreme of pure plastic +force in the painting of modern times. + +After the earlier violence and the vehement impulse of birth is +assuaged, the spirit of Nature is transfigured into Soul, and Grace is +born. This point Art reached, after Leonardo da Vinci, in Correggio, +in whose works the sensuous Soul is the active principle of Beauty. + + * * * * * + +As the modern fable of Psyche closes the circle of the old mythology; +so Painting, by giving a preponderance to the Soul, attained a new, +though not a higher step of Art. + +This Guido Reni strove after, and became the proper painter of the +Soul. Such seems to us to be the necessary interpretation of his whole +endeavor, often uncertain, and, in many of his works, losing itself in +the vague. + +This is shown, as, perhaps, in few of his other pictures, in the +masterpiece that is offered to the admiration of all in the great +collection of our king. + +In the figure of the heavenward-ascending Virgin, all harshness and +sternness are effaced, even to the last trace; and, indeed, does not +Painting itself seem in it to soar upward, transfigured on its own +pinions, as the liberated Psyche delivered from the severity of Form? + +Here nothing outward remains, with separate natural force; everything +expresses receptivity and still endurance, even the perishable flesh, +the character of which the Italian language designates by the term +_morbidezza_, altogether unlike that with which Raphael invests the +descending Queen of Heaven, as she appears to the adoring pope and a +saint. + +Though the remark be well-founded, that the original of Guido's female +heads is the Niobe of antiquity, yet the ground of this similarity is +surely no mere intentional imitation; perhaps a like aim led to like +means. + +As the Florentine Niobe is an extreme in Sculpture, and the +representation in it of the Soul, so this well-known picture is +an extreme in Painting, which here ventures to lay aside even the +requisite of shade and the obscure, and to work almost with pure +Light. + +Even though it might be permitted to Painting, from its peculiar +nature, to give a distinct preponderance to the Soul, yet theory and +instruction will do best constantly to aim at that original Centre, +whence alone Art may be produced ever anew; whereas, at the stage last +mentioned, it must necessarily stand still, or degenerate into cramped +mannerism. For even that higher passion is opposed to the idea of +having reached the acme of energy, whose image and reflex Art is +called upon to display. + +A right intelligence will ever enjoy seeing a creature worthily, and, +as far as possible, also individually, represented; yea, Deity itself +would look down with pleasure on a being that, gifted with a pure +soul, should stoutly assert the dignity of its nature outwardly also, +and by its sensually efficient existence. + +We have seen how the work of Art, springing up out of the depths of +Nature, begins with determinateness and limitation, unfolds its inward +plenitude and infinity, is finally transfigured in Grace, and at +last attains to Soul. But we can conceive only in detail what, in the +creative act of mature Art, is but one operation. No theory and no +rules can give this spiritual, creative power. It is the pure gift of +Nature, which here, for the second time, makes a close; for, having +fully actualized herself, she invests the creature with her creative +energy. But as, in the grand progress of Art, these different stages +appeared successively, until, at the highest, all joined in one; so +also, in particulars, sound culture can spring up only where it has +unfolded itself regularly from the germ and root to the blossom. + +The requirement that Art, like everything living, should commence from +the first rudiments, and, to renew its youth, constantly return +to them, may seem a hard doctrine to an age that has so often +been assured that it has only to take from works of Art already in +existence the most consummate Beauty, and thus, as at a step, to reach +the final goal. Have we not already the Excellent, the Perfect? How +then should we return to the rudimentary and unformed? + +Had the great founders of modern Art thought thus, we should never +have seen their miracles. Before them also stood the creations of the +ancients, round statues and works in relief, which they might have +transferred immediately to their canvas. But such an appropriation of +a Beauty not self-won, and therefore unintelligible, would not satisfy +an artistic instinct that aimed throughout at the fundamental, and +from which the Beautiful was again to create itself with free original +energy. They were not afraid, therefore, to appear simple, artless, +dry, beside those exalted ancients; nor to cherish Art for a long time +in the undistinguished bud, until the period of Grace had arrived. + +Whence comes it that we still look upon these works of the older +masters, from Giotto to the teacher of Raphael, with a sort of +reverence, indeed with a certain predilection, if not that the +faithfulness of their endeavor, and the grand earnestness of their +serene voluntary limitation, compel our respect and admiration. + +The same relation that they held to the ancients, the present +generation holds to them. Their time and ours are joined by no living +transmission, no link of continuous, organic growth; we must reproduce +Art in the way they did, but with energy of our own, in order to be +like them. + +Even that Indian-summer of Art, at the end of the sixteenth and the +beginning of the seventeenth centuries, could call forth only a few +new blossoms on the old stem, but no productive germs, still less +plant a new tree of Art. But to set aside the works of perfected +Art, and to seek out its scanty and simple beginnings, as some have +desired, would be a new and perhaps greater mistake; it would be no +real return to the fundamental; simplicity would be affectation, and +grow into hypocritical show. + +But what prospect does the present time offer for an Art springing +from a vigorous germ, and growing up from the root? For it is in a +great measure dependent on the character of its time; and who +would promise the approbation of the present time to such earnest +beginnings, when Art, on the one hand, scarcely obtains equal +consideration with other instruments of prodigal luxury, and, on the +other, artists and amateurs, with entire want of ability to grasp +Nature, praise and demand the Ideal? + +Art springs only from that powerful striving of the inmost powers of +the heart and the spirit, which we call Inspiration. Everything that +from difficult or small beginnings has grown up to great power and +height, owes its growth to Inspiration. Thus spring empires and +states, thus arts and sciences. But it is not the power of the +individual that accomplishes this, but the Spirit alone, that diffuses +itself over all. For Art especially is dependent on the tone of the +public mind, as the more delicate plants on atmosphere and weather; it +needs a general enthusiasm for Sublimity and Beauty, like that which, +in the time of the Medici, as a warm breath of spring, called forth at +once and together all those great spirits. + + * * * * * + +It is only when the public life is actuated by the same forces through +whose energy Art is elevated, that the latter can derive any advantage +from it; for Art cannot, without giving up the nobility of its nature, +aim at anything outward. + +Art and Science can move only on their own axes; the artist, like +every spiritual laborer, can follow only the law that God and Nature +have written in his heart. None can help him--he must help himself; +nor can he be outwardly rewarded, since anything that he should +produce for the sake of aught out of itself, would thereby become a +nullity; hence, too, no one can direct him, nor prescribe the path +he is to tread. Is he to be pitied if he have to contend against his +time, he is deserving of contempt if he truckle to it. But how +should it be even possible for him to do this? Without great general +enthusiasm there are only sects--no public opinion; not an established +taste, not the great ideas of a whole people, but the voices of a few +arbitrarily-appointed judges, determine as to merit; and Art, which +in its elevation is self-sufficing, courts favor, and serves where it +should rule. + +To different ages are given different inspirations. Can we expect none +for this age, since the new world now forming itself, as it exists in +part already outwardly, in part inwardly and in the hearts of men, can +no longer be measured by any standard of previous opinion, and since +everything, on the contrary, loudly demands higher standards and an +entire renovation? + +Should not the sense to which Nature and History have more livingly +unfolded themselves, restore to Art also its great arguments? The +attempt to draw sparks from the ashes of the Past, and fan them again +into universal flame, is a vain endeavor. Only a revolution in the +ideas themselves is able to raise Art from its exhaustion; only new +Knowledge, new Faith, can inspire it for the work by which it can +display, in a renewed life, a splendor like the past. + +An Art in all respects the same as that of foregoing centuries, will +never return; for Nature never repeats herself. Such a Raphael will +never be again, but another, who shall have reached in an equally +original manner the summit of Art. Only let the fundamental conditions +be fulfilled, and renewed Art will show, like that which preceded +it, in its first works, its aim and intent. In the production of the +distinctly characteristic, if it proceed from a fresh original energy, +Grace is already present, even though hidden, and in both the advent +of the Soul already determined. Works produced in this manner, even in +their rudimentary imperfection, are necessary and eternal. * * * + + + + +LATER GERMAN ROMANTICISM + +By George H. Danton, PH.D + +Professor of German, Butler College + + +The group of later Romanticists is distinguished from the earlier +pioneers by less emphasis on speculative philosophy, by greater +spontaneity, and by more creative ability. The later school was less +interested in questions primarily esthetic and was more democratic. +Both groups were enemies of the aristocratic Enlightenment of the +eighteenth century; but where the earlier group worked with the +Kantian understanding and with a supersensuous philosophy, the younger +men lived in the world and were of it; they used the people to carry +on their propaganda. Thus, though later Romanticism contains nearly +all the ideas of earlier Romanticism, it displays in addition also, +political, national, and social tendencies which were in the main +foreign to the earlier writers. + +There was in the later group a deeper sense of religion and a firmer +belief in the spiritual foundations of experience than is shown by +their predecessors, though all Romanticism tried to penetrate the +mysteries of life and all Romanticists were seers as well as +prophets. In the later school, too, there appears a development of the +nature-sense far beyond anything shown in the first group. Indeed, +the Schlegels may be said to have been without a sense for nature; in +Tieck there is a great discrepancy between the man, his beliefs, +and his practise, and Novalis' nature-feeling is not attached to +any specific place. But Brentano loves the Rhine, and Eichendorff's +landscape is genuinely Silesian. Caroline and Dorothea know nothing of +the mood which makes Bettina throw herself prone in the grass to watch +an insect crawl over her hand. + +A keener appreciation of natural beauty led to a study of natural +science; thence it was but a step to the "night-sides" of nature; +and spiritism, mesmerism, occultism, and abnormal psychology fill the +minds of such men as the Romantic philosopher Schubert, and of the +physicians Carus and Passavant. Justinus Kerner wrote of the Seeress +of Prevorst, and Clemens Brentano watched for years at the bedside +of a stigmatized nun. On the other hand, from nature comes a love for +home and country, and this love serves as a bridge to the patriotism +which was the vital force in the Wars of Liberation and which, by +well-marked gradations, destroyed the cosmopolitanism engendered by +the French Revolution. Art went hand in hand with nature; the +wild, weird landscapes of Caspar David Friedrich, fascinating and +specifically German, express the Romantic spirit fully as well as the +delicate, spiritual, and thoroughly sane fancies of Philip Otto Runge, +the artist of early Romanticism. + +As the earlier men centred in Jena, so the later Romanticists +flourished in Heidelberg, that city which Eichendorff called "itself +a magnificent Romanticism." The earlier group was largely North German +and brought with it clear perception and a certain power of analysis, +an ability to dissect and to reason. With the Heidelberg group the +South begins to play a larger part, though there were a number of +North Germans in it. The richer fancy, the longer literary tradition, +now add color to their productions. It is significant, too, that +though "castle Romanticism" does not die out, a new note is struck +with the celebration of the Rhine in song, story, and legend. The +river begins with Romantic tradition and in a Romantic _milieu_, but +rises to political significance as "Germany's stream and not Germany's +boundary." The southward tendency of the movement reached its climax +when its centre shifted to Munich, with a culture-loving king, an +Academy of Sciences and a new University. Munich was fortunately not +destined to become like Vienna, that other South German city, "a Capua +of the spirit." + +Though certain members of the later Romantic group were closely +associated with each other in a way that was unknown to the older set, +Arnim and Savigny having each married a sister of Brentano, there was +less real solidarity among them than in their forerunners. By no means +all the men treated within the confines of the present article had the +close personal association which, when combined with intellectual or +literary activity, goes by the rather loose name of a "school." The +first Romanticists were held together by a common effort to formulate +or to attain a speculative philosophy. In the second group, there was +a decentralizing, catholicizing tendency, and, above all, a greater +individual creative ability. It was not merely the chance difference +of external fortunes that kept them apart, though they never held +together after the death of Brentano's wife in 1806, but that each +projected his individuality into his literary work rather than into a +common polemic ideal. The path-finding and discovery had already been +done; in the quieter backwater it was possible to develop well-rounded +works of real esthetic value. + +Very significant of the differences between the schools is their +journalistic activity. The ideal of the first Romanticists was to work +without collaboration; but the very prospectus of Arnim's _Journal for +Hermits_ is signed by a company of editors. The early journals were +turned to the study of German literature through a renunciation of +the present; the later Germanic studies arose from a high idealism and +from a sincere desire to awaken the present to new national activity. +When, later in life, Goerres remarked of these journals that their +collaborators felt as if they were accompanying the Holy Roman Empire +to its grave, he was thinking of the year in which the most important +of them flourished, 1808. In this, Germany's darkest period, Kleist's +Phoebus, so cordially hated by many, and Arnim's _Journal for Hermits_ +had their brief but influential career. + +Such a journal as the _Athenaeum_, with its over-emphasis on the +esthetic, with its fighting spirit, its excoriating, inexorable wit, +its constructive and destructive criticism, its complete and total +silence on Schiller, would have been an impossibility in the later +period. The feeling for and thinking in Fragments, as practised by +Friedrich Schlegel and Novalis, was foreign to the new school. They +had no illusions that such thinking would become the daily custom +of the people; they kept their eyes open to that which went on about +them, and though they no more dared than the earlier group to work +directly upon the political conditions of the day as did Goerres later +(1814) in his _Rheinischer Merkur_, they attempted indirectly to +react on the broad mass by branching out into religion and other +folk-interests as the earlier school never cared to do. Perhaps this +is an excuse for the shallowness of some of the product, especially of +the fiction; at any rate, the attempt at dissemination was not without +its success. + +The external link connecting the two schools as well as the Romantic +groups in general and the object of their star-worship, Goethe, was +Clemens Maria Brentano (1778-1842), in many ways the most typical +Romantic figure of either school. Brentano's grandmother, Sophie La +Roche, had been the friend of Wieland; his mother, Maximiliane, +played a not unimportant role in the life of the young Goethe and +is immortalized in the latter part of _Werther_. Maximiliane married +Brentano, an Italian from the Como region, and Clemens was the third +child of this loveless union. Brentano's early life was not happy; he +was destined for a business career but was a failure in it, and then +studied at various universities but with no great application or +success. From 1797-1800 he was at Jena, where he succeeded in making +himself hated by the Schlegels in spite of his defense of them in +his satirical play, _Gustav Wasa_ (1800). This play, in the manner of +Tieck's _Puss in Boots_, attempts to ridicule Kotzebue. The method +is the same as Tieck's: there is the play within the play, the gagged +officer (to take the place of the critic Boettger), the puns, of which, +perhaps, the one on Lucinde _(Lux inde)_ is the best, and which, +as often in Brentano, go beyond and surpass Tieck. Romantic irony +flourishes: the whole world of the theatre, the author, the very +lights, the building, the working day and the musical instruments in +the orchestra are dramatized in turn. The dialogue of the latter far +more intimately suggests their quality than does the speech of +the flutes in Tieck, where their spirit is cerulean blue. _Wasa_, +unfortunately, runs off into dull allegory, and this work is not to be +compared with August von Schlegel's _Gate of Honor_ as a satire on the +same subject. + +Brentano's _Godwi_ (1801), the sub-title of which, "An Unmanageable +Novel by Maria," shows its character, is a far better production. It +has the strong, full-blooded, passionate love of life characteristic +of its author, "the many-souled" Brentano, whose Romantic irony +resulted from his being ashamed of his sentimentality, and whose +hatred of philistinism was caused by his fear of his own latent +tendency toward that point of view. The plot of _Godwi_ runs wild, but +the satire and the interspersed lyrics make it interesting reading. +Romantic irony can go no farther than in this book, in which the +author's own death-bed scene is portrayed and in which the preceding +parts of the work are referred to by page and line--"This is the pond +into which I fall on page so and so." + +If Brentano's _Rosary_ cycle (1809) is somewhat unpleasantly +superhuman, and if, at times, he mixes sex and religion like a mystic +of the Middle Ages or a Spaniard of the Counter Reformation, he rises +to wonderful lyric heights when he touches his own experiences, or +when he expresses the note of the people. His use of the supernatural, +of the subconscious mood, gives rise to such poems as _The Lore-Lay_, +the legend of which was actually invented by Brentano. Like all +Romanticists, Brentano was a poet of incomplete works, of moods +which abandoned him before the artistic perfection of his effort was +reached; but his suggestive touches, and, above all, his constant use +of the refrain in all phases and _genres_, especially to emphasize +and summarize his musical consciousness, are a striking proof of the +French adage, "Quand le coeur chante, c'est toujours un refrain." +Brentano surrenders himself passionately to his mood. His surrender +and his distorting irony, like Heine's, arise from his desire to +assimilate all of the outside world; it explains, in part, the +Romantic desire to mediate, to translate, to bridge the cleft between +oneself and the world. In part, too, it explains the desire for +musical imitation so apparent in both Tieck and Brentano. It is an +attempt to express in terms of one sense the ideas or apperceptions +of another. But where Tieck falls into meaningless jingle, Brentano +succeeds, not merely in suggesting but in producing the effect, as in +his _Merry Musicians_ (1803), or in bringing about its latent mood, +as in his _Spinner's Song_ or in his version of the old +folk-epithalamium, "Come out, come out, thou lovely, lovely bride." + +Brentano's prose tales vary in quality from the over-allegorized +latter part of _The Fairy Tale of the Rhine and the Miller Radlauf_ +(1816) to the simple and homely _Kasper and Annie_ (1817), with its +elemental clash of soldiers and citizens. Through many of the tales +there runs a note of satire and of symbolism, but the fancy is +exuberant and the interest well maintained. Brentano's discovery +of the Rhine as an object of poetry and veneration is completely +summarized in _Radlauf_, where the Rhine lyrics are often of wonderful +beauty and definiteness and the river becomes a benevolent _deus ex +machina_, who--significantly--in dreams, guides and aids the simple, +honest miller in his search for a bride. + +Later in life, Brentano returned to the Roman Church into which he +had been baptized as a child, and gradually withdrew from literary +activity. Long before his death in 1842, he had renounced his earlier +life as wicked and abhorrent, and had given himself over entirely to +the Church. But his career with its constant wanderings, its lack +of permanency of occupation, of family ties, and of a real home, +his inability to grow old, his inner unreality, his excessive +productivity-in short, all that is incomplete, over-stimulated, +destructive of self, make him the most typical figure of the later +Romantic group. + +Ludwig Achim von Arnim (1781-1831) is by no means so bizarre a figure. +Born in Berlin of a noble family, he inherited a peculiar +patriotism and his love of culture, and developed these without +the eccentricities which characterized his brother-in-law. The main +influences of his early years were Goethe and Jena, but, as a direct +inspiration, Tieck must also be mentioned. Arnim's early works lie +largely in the field of natural science, especially in physics. He had +little of Brentano's lyric gift; indeed, his poems, where not wooden, +are often merely reminiscent. They show, too, in an unusual degree, +the ability to adapt himself to another's mood and assimilate it--that +which the Germans call "Nachempfinden," a quality which stood him in +excellent stead in his work on _The Boy's Magic Horn_. + +The drama _Halle and Jerusalem_ (1810) is an amalgamation of the story +of Cardenio and Celinde used by Gryphius and Immermann, with the story +of the Wandering Jew. The first four acts take place in Halle where +Cardenio is a teacher and where he is living in incestuous relation +with Olympia. He is a Faust-nature and his father is Ahasuerus. +The fifth act is taken up with a pilgrimage to Jerusalem where the +romantic fates of the characters are decided. The play abounds in +contemporary satire and, as in all of Arnim's work, there is distinct +emphasis on action, the goal of human endeavor. + +Arnim's prose is better than his verse. Soon, in _The Guardians of +the Crown_ (1817; volume 2 unfinished and published in his literary +remains, 1854), he strikes an individual note. This novel is one +of the best products of German Romanticism. The Guardians are a +mysterious secret organization who guard the imperial crown in a fairy +castle and are favorable to the ancient house of Hohenstaufen but +inimical to the ruling Habsburgs. The basis is the newly awakening +ideal of German unity but Arnim fails to express this clearly, and +the concluding motif, that Germany's crown is to be spiritually won, +resolves the whole into a frosty allegory. The progress of the story +is, however, extremely interesting; the whole spacious and varied +scene of medieval life is there, and as Tieck and Wackenroder +discovered Nuremberg, and Brentano the Rhine, so Arnim may be said to +have shown in its full activity the Ghibelline city of Waiblingen. It +is, to be sure, a Romantic Waiblingen, and not the real city, as Arnim +himself was afterward forced to admit with some disappointment when he +actually saw it. But as Arnim portrays it, it rises to typical value +without losing any of its poetic individuality. It is the city of the +Hohenstaufens, the last stand of medievalism against the encroachment +of a new civilization. The echoes from Gotz von Berlichingen are at +once apparent to the reader. But Arnim's city of the sixteenth century +does not look backward only; the conflicts in it point forward also. +Its abbess is not the traditional pious, fat old lady, but a tall, +thin, practical and active woman. Its Faust is a figure of aggressive +naturalism, a charlatan and quack who practises blood-transfusion on +the hero and who lies drunk in a pig-sty--a scene which shows Arnim's +power of drastic contrast at its best. The hero, Berthold, does +not sit back and wait for the crown to come to him, but with money +mysteriously given him builds a cloth-mill on the site of his +ancestral palace and becomes the mayor of the city. How different a +picture from the hazy cities of Novalis' _Heinrich von Ofterdingen_! +It is a part of the new spirit in Romanticism to point the way for the +people of Germany to go forward--to leave mysticism and dreams, and to +grapple with the life around them. + +A similar impulse toward popularization actuated Arnim and Brentano +in their joint work, _The Boy's Magic Horn_ (1806-8). This is the +achievement upon which their greatest fame will always rest. It is +one of the best collections of folk-songs and popular ballads in any +language, and has been of the greatest influence upon Germany. There +was no desire on the part of the editors to write a learned treatise; +they simply wished to gather together and record the folk-songs of the +Fatherland before they were lost forever. In Arnim's own words: "The +richness of this our national song cannot fail to attract universal +attention; it will surprise many; it will supplement many an effort of +our own times, or will render such effort needless. We expect a great +deal from the joyous happy life in these songs--a manifold, full tone +in poetry, an echo of very definite ideas, or an impulse to arouse +many a half-forgotten youthful memory. These poems will not only be +read, they will be remembered and sung. They embrace in their content, +perhaps the greatest portion of German poetry. They will thus set free +many an indefinite longing--a something which is not satisfied by much +re-reading." + +Goethe greeted the new undertaking with enthusiasm and urged the +editors to "keep their poetic archives clean, strict, and in good +order." He, too, urged that "this book should be in every house where +joyful humans dwell, by the window, under the mirror, or where song +book and cook book lie. There it should remain, ready to be opened, +and there something should be found for every varying mood." While +this fate has not been granted the work, it has grown deservedly +popular. Philological criticism has caviled at the free hand which +Arnim, especially, used in remolding the songs, but the editors are +freed of any possible charge of intellectual dishonesty toward reader +and source in that their object was to present artistic unities and +not material for further study and dissection. + +A folk-song is a song which has become a part of the lyric +consciousness of the people; often the singers do not know that +what they are singing has a literary origin--they have thoroughly +assimilated it. In the best sense of the term, the songs of _The Boy's +Magic Horn_ are folk-songs. They are both narrative and dramatic as +well as pure lyric in form, and are simple, powerful, and direct in +expression. They treat all phases of German life of the past, from a +crude version of the _Lay of Hildebrant_ to the riddles, lullabies, +and counting-out rhymes of children. Pictures of the moral and social +life of peasant Germany are followed by poems of nature and of the +supernatural. Tragedies vary with humorous skits, extravagant and +mocking, and the collection is enlivened with many flyting poems +about tailors--a favorite butt of the peasant past. Ballads of popular +origin and ballads with an added sentimental touch, such as the famous +Strassburg poem with the added Alpine horn motif, are found here. +Delicate, haunting rhymes alternate with crude assonances, and +occasionally one meets with banalities; but, as a whole, the +collection is of surprising merit. It is a product of the Romantic +return to the past, but is filled with a poetic outlook toward the +future. Of the work as a whole Heine says, "I cannot praise the book +enough. It contains the most graceful flowers of the German spirit, +and he who wishes to know the German people at their best, let him +read these folk-songs. * * * In these songs one feels the heart-beat +of the German folk. It is a revelation of all melancholy cheerfulness, +all their foolish reason. Here German anger beats its drum, here is +the pipe of German scorn, the kiss of German love." + +The part which the Romantic mood played in the Wars of Liberation is +definite and well-recognized. The soldier, Gneisenau, felt that the +politics of the future lay in the poetry of the day, and Adam Muller +proudly proclaimed poetry to be a war-power: The Romantic longing +for the distance, for love, when directed to the remote past of +the Fatherland, not only yielded a new life in art and religion but +induced a tremendous patriotism as well. The cosmopolitan temper which +caused Lessing to say that love of country was an unknown feeling to +him, gave way before an intenser nationalism. The earlier Romanticists +began it; in the later group it took more specific form and became +a propaganda. It was also precipitated in verse and prose. The spark +came from Fichte, who was gradually led to see in the destiny of +the German people a large cultural fact. Fichte, like a true German, +emphasized education as the means of progress: Arnim grasped the +problem from another side; he felt himself autochthonous, and +consciously set out to make his connection with the soil react on +those sprung from the soil. In him, as well as in Fichte, dawns the +ideal of the German people as an entity, as a nation. + +There are three poets whose main value lies in the appeal they made to +the belligerent spirit of the day. They represent three phases of the +German character. Ernst Moritz Arndt (1769-1860), the eldest of the +group, is the pamphleteer, the politician, and the teacher, as well +as the poet. He is the hard-headed, earnest intellectual whose lyric +poetry, whatever its esthetic weaknesses, arouses to action by its +deadly insistence on an idea, on hatred of the French, on salvation by +the sword. Arndt is all virility and fire. + +The life of Theodor Koerner (1791-1813), the son of Schiller's intimate +friend, shows that mixture of idealism and practicality for which the +Germans are becoming more and more noted. Koerner was aroused from his +poetic diletantism by the alarms of war. He enlisted in the famous +Luetzow corps and died a soldier's death, thus becoming the symbol of +all that was ideal for the patriotic youth of his day, the hero and +the poet, the man of "Lyre and Sword." His patriotic poems, often +composed on the very field of battle, were sung by the soldiers to the +roll of cannon and the beat of drum. The trace of Schiller's rhetoric +in Koerner's poems adds to their effectiveness, spurring to action and +firing young minds to patriotic emulation of high ideals. Like Arndt's +lyrics, Koerner's poems are actual documents in the struggle for +liberty-verses which affected men. + +The German mystic trait, the touch of the religious, marks the poetry +of Max Schenkendorf (1783-1817). His was a quieter nature, which +loved the Fatherland, its language, its romantic scenes and past. +Characteristic also is his veneration for Queen Luise, whose beauty, +tenderness, and fortitude had endeared her to the people as well as to +the poets. + +Though every Romantic poet took some stand on the questions of +the day, the most distinctly lyric of them, Joseph von Eichendorff +(1788-1857), was not of a military temperament. Even he, however, +followed the King of Prussia's call to arms but, significantly enough +for "the last Knight of Romanticism," as he was called, arrived a day +too late on the field of Waterloo. The somewhat fanciful title by no +means indicates a jouster at windmills; it implies, rather, that +in Eichendorff there were gathered for the last time with all their +poetic brilliancy, the declining rays of the Romantic movement. After +him, the enthusiasm is in its decline or changes to forms which lie +outside the confines of the Romantic spirit. + +Eichendorff is a thorough _pleinairiste_, filled with the atmosphere +of his native Silesia and, in some measure, hardly intelligible apart +from its landscape. His birth-place, the castle of Lubowitz, near +Ratibor, rising high on a hill in full sight of the Oder, is the +ultimate background of all his nature-poetry. Here must be localized +the ever-recurring hill and valley, wood, nightingale, and castle. +Here, too, he heard the rustling of the forest leaves and the +splashing of the fountain; here he was grounded in the strong +and pious, if somewhat narrow, Catholicism of his race. It was a +Catholicism, however, which was genuinely Romantic in that it sought +comfort in sorrow directly from nature, a tendency which gives rise +to some of the best and most heartfelt religious poetry in German +literature. A fine example of this is to be found in Eichendorff's +beautiful poems on the death of his child. It is interesting to see +how, in this spiritual poetry, there is a constant melting of nature +into religion, a dissolving of the Romantic atmosphere, of that +youthful fervor which Eichendorff never really outgrew but continued +to draw upon for inspiration for all his later work, into a broad, +deep, manly piety. + +Eichendorff's poetry began with Tieckian notes; it was influenced by +Brentano, and, unfortunately, was colored by the productions of Count +Otto von Loeben (1786-1825), a pseudo-Romanticist of less than +mediocre ability. But Eichendorff's individuality, with its constant +accentuation of the acoustic, soon made itself felt and brought into +German poetry what Tieck had tried for and failed in--an effect of +perfect musical synthesis. The melody of the verse receives a peculiar +lilt by frequent changes in metre between stanzas or in the midst of +the stanza, and is thus saved from monotony. Were its metrical harmony +tiring in any way, it could not have been set to music with such +surprising success. As it is, Eichendorff's poetry has become a +permanent part of the musical life of the nation. _The Broken +Ring_ has passed into a folk-song, and _"O valleys wide!"_ with +Mendelssohn's music is a popular choral of deep religious import. + +Yet Eichendorff does not attract either by the variety of his themes +or of his rhymes. It is his very repetitions which so endear him +to the popular heart. His is not passionate poetry, nor does it +subjectively portray the soul-life of its author. In fact, it is saved +from monotony of content at times only by its extreme honesty and +its lovable simplicity. There is none of Goethe's power of suggesting +landscape in a few touches, none of Goethe's logic of description, +none of Goethe's clear inner objectivity, but a certain haze lies over +Eichendorff's landscapes--the haze of a lyric Corot; at the same time, +this landscape has the power of suggestion to the German mind. Paul +Heyse, himself a poet, makes one of his characters say, "I have always +carried Eichendorff Is book of songs with me on my travels. Whenever a +feeling of strangeness comes over me in the variegated days, or I feel +a longing for home, I turn its leaves and am at home again. None of +our poets has the same magic reminiscence of home which captures our +hearts with such touching monotony, with so few pictures and notes. +* * * He is always new, as the voices of Nature itself, and never +oppresses, but rather lulls one to sweet dreams as if a mother were +singing her child to sleep." + +The one novel of Eichendorff which has lived, _From the Life of +a Good-for-nothing_ (1826), is a last Romantic shoot of Friedrich +Schlegel's doctrine of divine laziness--a delightful story, abounding +in those elements which perennially endear Romanticism to the young +heart, for it is full of nature and love and fortunate happenings. +What could be more charming than the spirit in which the hero throws +away the vegetables in his garden and puts in flowers? What more naive +than his spyings, his fiddlings? The strength of the story lies in the +fact that while its head is in the clouds, its feet are on the ground. +There is no sentimentalizing, no breaking down of class distinctions; +the good-for-nothing marries his lady-love, but she is of his own +rank. The pseudo-Romanticism of modern novels is avoided; the +hero neither wins a kingdom nor is he the long-lost heir of some +potentate--he remains just what he was, a lovable good-for-nothing. +The weather-eye on probability is what in later times has helped the +Romanticists to slip so easily into Realism--and to reactionary views. + +Of all the great mass of material left by Friedrich de la Motte Fouque +(1777-1843), only a lyric or two and the fairy tale _Undine_ have any +value for the present day. Fouque represents the talent which develops +in the glare of the world, is popular for a decade, but soon withers +when the sun is set. His relations to Romanticism are largely +external; he frequented the salons of Rachel Levin and Henrietta Herz +in Berlin, was aided by August von Schlegel, and was praised by +Jean Paul; but in his heart he was not inspired by any of the deeper +longings that characterize the true Romantic spirit. Even though he is +to be credited with the first modern dramatization of the Nibelungen +story, _The Hero of the North_ (1810), and though he took subjects +from the Germanic past and from the chivalric days, he brought no new +life to his rehabilitations. Fouque was too productive, too facile, +too external, too indifferent to psychological motivation to be real. +He diluted Romanticism and sentimentalized it. In him patriotism +becomes chauvinism; love, philandering; and his age of chivalry, a +thinly veiled and sentimental picture of his own times. The strength +and the indigenousness of Arnim are gone, and that power to throw a +Romantic glamor over life which Tieck and Hoffmann had, is lacking. + +Only in his charming fairy-tale, _Undine_ (1811), does Fouque rise +above his _milieu. Undine_, the source of which, according to Fouque +himself, is to be found in a work of Paracelsus on supernatural +beings, remains one of the best creations of the Romantic school and, +like Eichendorff's novel, has become international, not only in +its original form but in the opera by Lortzing (first performance, +Hamburg, 1845). The value of the story lies in the author's power +to make the reader believe in Undine, the water sprite, and in +the presentation of a new nature-mythology. All Romanticists have +consciously or unconsciously attempted to satisfy Friedrich Schlegel's +demand for anew mythology: Fouque's earth, air, and water spirits +people the elements with graceful forms from the world of nature; the +nymph Undine in the form of a flowing stream embraces even in death +the grave of her lover. + +Ludwig Uhland (1787-1862) was not fundamentally a Romantic +personality. He is called "the classicist of Romanticism," and +with justice. The term shows that he is felt to have something of +completion, of inner perfection, of harmony of form and content which +was lacking in the truer Romanticists. Uhland was without their early +cosmopolitanism. Political life as manifested in him was, first of +all, Suabian--for Uhland was a Suabian and most intimately associated +with that section of Germany. He was actively and practically +interested in the politics of his native land as a member of its +legislative bodies and as delegate to the national parliament at +Frankfurt in 1848. Uhland had a conservative love for the "good old +Suabian law." He felt the doubtful position of the South German states +in the struggle against Napoleon, and it was only when Wuertemberg took +its stand with the allies in the final conflict that the embarrassment +of his position was relieved, and Uhland's patriotic verse assumed its +full tone. But his poetry never became a spur to national achievement +like the verse of Arndt, that other German poet-professor. As a member +of the national parliament, Uhland was opposed to the exclusion +of Austria from the hegemony, and to the two-chamber system of +legislation. But Uhland's conservatism is unalterably honest without +any reactionary traits; he resigned his professorship rather than be +hindered in his political activities, and refused, with the peasant's +dourness, all the orders and distinctions that were offered him. + +Indeed, there is something of the peasant nature in all of Uhland's +verse. Sturdy reserve characterizes it--that reserve which forbids the +peasant to show his feelings under the stress of the greatest emotion. +Uhland does not carry his feelings to market; like Schiller, he is +not a love poet. There is no display, no self-analysis, no +self-exaltation, no amalgamation of self with nature. Uhland as a poet +is not interested in his own psychology, but in the impinging world +and in the tender past. When Goethe said that Uhland was primarily +a balladist, he was right, for the ballad presupposes just +that permeation of the object by the emotion that satisfies the +unquestionable lyric gift possessed by Uhland, without in any way +destroying the essentially narrative objectivity of his style. + +Uhland's greatest fame rests, then, on his ballads. The difference +between these and those of Goethe and Schiller is not merely in +the so-called "castle-Romanticism" of Uhland, not in a lingering +sentimentality in some of the poorer ones, but in Uhland's ability at +will to catch the folk-tone. Sometimes this folk-tone is a question +of certain technical tricks, such as the abrupt shift of scene, +repetition, varying series of scenes or words, archaized language; but +it is just as often in the mood which Uhland throws over the whole. He +thus can catch the inner form and essential mood of the popular ballad +in a way that not even Goethe does in his _Erlking_. Uhland's ballads +and romances vary greatly in quality; none, perhaps, has the grandiose +dramatic and ethical note of Schiller's _The Cranes of Ibycus_ +and none the power of revealing the hidden forces of nature in +anthropomorphic and demoniac form as Goethe does in his _Erlking_ and +_The Fisher_. But Uhland's poems are more varied in treatment, even +though he cannot be said to have brought any new forms and themes into +German verse. There is much talk of poets and poetry in his verse and +much of the tender melancholy of parting lovers, of separation and +death. There are also some very healthy bacchic notes. Often the +ballads are a mere presentation of a scene, with neither plot nor +moral; once in a while, too, Uhland shows a humorous touch. But +various as are his themes and treatments, the treatment is always +nicely adapted to the theme. + +It is difficult to imagine a better suiting of form and content than +in _The Singer's Curse_. The management of the vowel sequences is +truly wonderful and the rhymes carry the emotional words with a fine +virtuosity. _The Luck of Edenhall_, a variation of a Scottish theme +and also of the Biblical "_Mene tekel_," displays without sermonizing +the greatest ethical vigor. It has far more dramatic energy than +either Byron's or Heine's "Belshazzar" poems, with fully as much +dismal foreboding. _Taillefer_, which has been called "the sparkling +queen" of Uhland's ballads, has fresh vigor but lacks the power +of handling the moral forces of the universe with as much dramatic +vividness. It has a naive joy of life not elsewhere found in Uhland's +ballads. + +Uhland was the greatest poet of the "Suabian School," a group of young +men who objected to being denominated a school. Among them was +William Hauff (1802-27), who is known for several lyrics, a number +of excellent short stories, and a historical novel, _Lichtenstein_ +(1826), in the manner of Scott. His _Trooper's Song_ is a variation +of an old theme and is of great metrical interest in that here, as +in Uhland, one may observe how the subtle handling of rhythm, the +lengthening or shortening of a line, or the shift of stress, brings +with it a corresponding shift of emotion. _Lichtenstein_ is the story +of the struggle of Ulrich of Wuertemberg against the Suabian League and +gives us a Romantic picture of the Duke which is not justified by the +facts. It was, however, an attempt to vitalize history and owes its +origin to the Romantic longing for fatherland. Its immediate impulse +among Scott's novels was _Quentin Durward_ and, like _Quentin +Durward_, it has a double plot--the sentimental young lovers and the +romantic ruler. It also shows all the pageantry of Romanticism and the +naive technique of the beginning of an art-form in the early stages of +a new literary movement. + +Friedrich Rueckert (1788-1866) was prevented from taking part in the +Wars of Liberation by poor health, but added his _Sonnets in Harness_ +to the poetry of the period. These sonnets had no such stirring effect +as the poems of Koerner, not only because of their literary form, but +because, in spite of their unquestioned belligerency, they had not the +tone of religious conviction against the enemy which characterized +the verses of Arndt and the rest. Other poems, like _Koerner's Spirit_, +show how deeply Rueckert felt himself in sympathy with his times; his +reward has been to have added a very large number of poems to the +every-day repertory of Germany. His _Barbarossa_ is found in almost +every reading book. + +The cycle _Love's Spring_ is an imperishable monument to his love for +Louisa Wiethaus. But too many of the poems are dedicated to her and +too many inconsequential moods relating to her are recorded. In spite +of this, Rueckert has resolved the discord between every-day life and +poetry with the simplest poetic apparatus. Rueckert has also enriched +the German language with a mass of gnomic poetry, to the writing of +which he was led by his Oriental studies. This gnomic poetry (_The +Wisdom of the Brahman_) has been aptly said to recall at times the +ripeness of the mature Goethe and at other times--Polonius. Rueckert +was one of the first to introduce the Orient and its verse-forms +into German literature. Here the influence of Friedrich Schlegel +is unmistakable. He was also a master in the reproduction of the +complicated metres of the East and South. Though many of these +verse-forms have refused to become indigenous in Germany, a large +number of new words invented by Rueckert have had poetical vogue, and +even where the new formations were too bold or too _recherche_, they +accustomed German ears to a new idea-presentation through sound. +Rueckert, like the average Romanticist, lacked moderation in his +production, and was utterly without critical faculty in respect to +his own verse. Much that he has written has perished, but some of his +work--both original and translation--is a permanent part of the best +of German lyric verse. + +More individual than Rueckert is Adalbert von Chamisso (1781-1838). +Though he was born in the Champagne in France, and was therefore a +fellow-countryman of Joinville and La Fontaine, he became a German +by education and preference, and his name is inseparably linked with +German scholarship and letters. It is remarkable that Chamisso began +to write German only after 1801 and is reported never to have spoken +it perfectly; yet his verse ranks with the best products of Germany in +fluency and in form. Much of it, especially that with woman's love as +its theme, is extremely German in thought and feeling, though perhaps +French in its keenness of analysis. So German is Chamisso felt to be +that at his best he is ranked with Goethe and Heine. + +When the boy Chamisso was nine years old, the family was driven from +France but was later allowed to return, though Adalbert never went +back permanently. Thus it was that during the years 1806-13, the young +expatriate led a life of the greatest mental torment; France no longer +meant anything to him, and in Germany he felt himself a stranger and +an outcast. Always awkward personally, and of a nervous temperament, +he found it difficult to adjust himself to surrounding conditions. +His scholarly zeal, however, and his ability to sit for hours in close +study, show how completely his mentality was adjustable to the German +manner. In Berlin he was accepted by the younger Romantic group and +was a member of the famous North Star Club with Arnim and his set. In +1815-18 he made a trip around the world, and in later years devoted +himself especially to the study of botany. + +Only the poetry of Chamisso's later period is of supreme consequence. +As a man in the fifties, he wrote some of his most beautiful verse. +He was a naive poet, but a poet of many moods. His love poetry is the +poetry of longing, and ranks with that of Brentano in its ability to +suggest states of feeling. Among his best poems are his verse-tales, +such as _The Women of Weinsberg_, where his narrative genius ranks +with that of his fellow-countryman, La Fontaine. Especially good are +his poems in terzines. These mark the real introduction of this metre +into Germany. The best of these, _Salas y Gomez_, has the additional +advantage of real experience, for the material observation at the +basis of it is derived from his tour of circumnavigation. His poems in +this metre are often genre poems, pure prose in part, but frequently +of a drastic humor that ranks with that of the best of the old French +fabliaux. His realism is, however, never common, and, in such poems as +_The Old Washerwoman_, to quote Goethe's _Tasso_, "he often ennobles +what seems vulgar to us." + +Chamisso is Romantic in his interest in translations, in early +reminiscences of Uhland's "castle-Romanticism," and in his poetry of +indefinite longing, but his admiration for Napoleon and his tendency +toward realism point the way which all Romanticism naturally took--the +way leading through Heine to Young Germany on the one hand and through +Tieck's novelettes to realistic prose on the other. + +As a matter of fact, the work for which Chamisso is best known, a +work which has become international in popularity, _Peter Schlemihl_ +(1813), is an early bit of such realistic prose. The tale of the +man who sells his shadow to the devil for the sake of the sack of +Fortunatus has become in Chamisso's hands a genuine folk-fairy-tale +in key-note and style. At the same time it is thoroughly Romantic +in subject-matter and treatment. The word Schlemihl is a Hebrew word +variously interpreted as "Lover of God," or as "awkward fellow." If +it mean the former, Schlemihl then becomes a Theophilus, that medieval +Faust who also made a compact with the devil; if the latter, one who +breaks his finger when sticking it into a custard pie; then Schlemihl +is Chamisso himself, "that dean of Schlemihls," feeling himself at a +loss in any environment. He may be the man without a country, he may +be the man who draws attention to himself by selling what seems of +little value to him, but which afterward proves indispensable for the +right conduct of life. The story in this way brings forward a bit +of popular ethics, or, rather, it examines an ethical note from the +popular point of view. Like Hoffmann, Chamisso takes his reader into +the midst of current life, but, unlike Hoffmann, his moods are not +the dissolving views which leave the reader in doubt as to whether +the whole is a phantasmagoria and a hallucination. _Schlemihl_ is +genuinely and consistently realistic. It is a story in the first +person and has a rigidly logical arrangement of episodes leading up to +its climax. It does not make mood--it has mood. + +The brothers Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm are the products of Romantic +scholarship; they represent the highest type of scholarly attainment +and of scholarly personality. They are always thought of together, for +they shared all possessions alike and were not drawn apart by the fact +that William married and Jacob remained a bachelor. Their fidelity to +each other is touching, and no more lovable story is told than that +of Jacob's breaking down in a lecture and crying, "My brother is so +sick!" + +Jacob (1785-1863) was the philologist, the inductive gatherer of +scientific material, the close logical deducer of facts. He "presented +Germany with its mythology, with its history of legal antiquities, +with its grammar and its history of language." He is the author of +Grimm's law of consonant permutation which laid the foundations of +modern philological science and is the founder of philological science +in general. + +Wilhelm (1786-1859), no less exact a scientist, was more a Romantic +nature, with a greater power of synthesis under poetic stress. The +two brothers began their collecting activities under the influence +of Arnim, and their work with folk-tales in prose corresponds to _The +Boy's Magic Horn_ in verse. It was Wilhelm who gave Grimms' _Fairy +Tales_ their artistic form. He remolded, joined, separated--in +fact, wrought the crude materials into such shape that this work has +penetrated into every land and has become a household word for young +and old. The various early editions show the progress in the method +of Wilhelm. The first edition (1812) reproduces more exactly what the +brothers heard; the later ones show that Wilhelm consciously attempted +to give artistic form to the tales. That his method was justified +the history of the stories proves; they are not only material for +ethnological study, but are dear to all hearts. The stories have the +genuine folk-tone; they are true products of the folk-imagination, +with all the logic of that imagination. All phases of life are touched +and the interest never flags. The spirit of nature has been kept. + +The Romanticists were not successful in the drama. Kleist, the +greatest dramatist of the period, was not primarily a Romantic +poet. The Schlegels wrote frosty plays and Tieck attempted dramatic +production. It was left for the most bizarre of the Romantic group to +write the play of greatest power in it and to set a dramatic fashion +which for more than a decade carried all before it. + +Zacharias Werner (1768-1823), after a life of wild sensual excesses, +finally found refuge in the Roman Church and as a popular and +sensational preacher aroused Vienna with drastic sermons and clownish +antics. Of his various plays, _The Sons of the Valley_ (1803) and the +_Cross on the Baltic_ (1806) deserve mention for their religious +and mystic subject-matter, for which Werner himself has attempted an +explanation, though without adding to their understanding. _Martin +Luther, or the Consecration of Power_ (1807) is a pageant play of +great interest. Its recantation, _The Power of Weakness_, was written +after Werner's conversion. More important than these is his so-called +"fate tragedy," _The 24th of February_ (1810 per formed in Weimar; +published 1815). This day was a day of terror to Werner, for on it +he lost in the same year his mother and his most intimate friend. He +therefore in the play invests the day with a fatal significance, and +on it a malignant fate has especial power over the fortunes of the +persons of the drama; there is also a fatal requisite and a general +atmosphere of fatalism. The play started a whole series; some of +these were crude and weak imitations, others, like Grillparzer's _The +Ancestress_, were of great power. These plays were conditioned by +something in the air. Perhaps Napoleon, the man of fate, ruling the +minds and destinies of a whole continent, had something to do with the +philosophical background. Werner caught the fatalistic spirit, gave it +concise and logical form, and succeeded in producing a play which has +both atmosphere and logic of development. In all of these plays, in so +far as they are good, the effect is produced by the recognition +scenes which hold the reader rapt to the end. But the weak and vulgar +imitations of the category outnumbered the powerful plays in the +_genre_, and the well-merited death-blow was given them by Platen's +_The Fateful Fork_ (1826). + +E.T.A. Hoffmann (1776-1822) was a thoroughly Romantic person. Like +his fellow-Koenigsberger, Werner, he went through a period of wildest +dissipation, and all his life was easily influenced by alcohol. He was +a painter, a writer, and a musician. His ability in the pictorial arts +was mainly in caricature and his career as a composer is typically +Romantic; though he never but once completed a composition, that he +started, he was thoroughly at home in the theory of the art. Like all +Romanticists, Hoffmann was interested in and tried all phases of life +and refused to recognize the boundaries between the various parts +of existence, between the arts, and between reality and unreality. +Hoffmann, with all his North German power of reasoning and his zeal +and conscientiousness in public office, was emphatically _that_ +Romanticist associated with the night-sides of literature and life. +There is something uncanny both in the man and his writings. His +power of putting the scene of his most unreal stories in the midst of +well-known places, his ability to shift the reader from the real +to the unreal and _vice versa_, make some of his stories seem like +phantasmagorias. + +In all of Hoffmann's stories there is some unpleasant, bizarre +character; this is the author's satire on his own strange personality. +There is none of Poe's objectivity in Hoffmann, but he uses his +subjectivity in a peculiarly Romantic fashion. It is his idea to raise +the reader above the every-day point of view, to flee from this to +a magic world where the unusual shall take the place of the real and +where wonder shall rule. So there are in Hoffmann's stories a series +of characters who are really doubles. To the uninitiated they seem +every-day creatures; to those who know, they are fairies or beings +from the supernatural world. Such characters are found at their best +in _The Golden Pot_. + +Hoffmann has influenced both French and English literatures more than +any other Romantic poet. Hawthorne and Poe read him, and he was felt +by the French to be one of the first Germans whom they understood. It +was not merely that his clear reason appealed to the French, but that +they saw in him one endowed as with a sixth sense. He has a fineness +of observation, especially for the ridiculous sides of humanity, +together with a tenderness of spirit, that was new in German +literature as such men as Sainte-Beuve and Gautier saw it. The soul +at war with itself, uncovering its most secret thoughts, the _"malheur +d'etre poete,"_ coupled with wit, taste, gaiety, and the comedy +spirit--all these the French found in Hoffmann as in no other German. +Poe was also influenced by Hoffmann, but Poe's whole world is the +supernatural, and where Hoffmann slips with fantastic but logical +changes from the real to the unreal, Poe's metempsychosis is the real +in his world and he has a deeper insight into the world of terror. The +difference between Hawthorne and Hoffmann is even more striking, for +in the American the supernatural is the embodiment of the Puritan +New England conscience. In Hoffmann there is no such elevation of the +moral world to the rank of an atmosphere. + +In Hoffmann there is no out-of-doors, no lyric love; some of his +characters are frankly insane. The musical takes on a supreme +significance among the sensations, and music seemed the only art which +was able to draw the soul of the man from his earth-bound habitation. +Only in music did Hoffmann find the ability to make the Romantic +escape from the homelessness of this existence to the all-embracing +world of the unreal. But too often in his works does the unreal fail +to satisfy the reader. There is an effort felt, an effect sought for, +and, while the amalgamation of the two worlds is perfect, the world +to which Hoffmann is able to take us proves to be without the cogency +which our imaginations expect. Here Hoffmann fails. His world of the +imagination cannot always be taken seriously. + +Count August von Platen-Hallermund (1796-1835) is characterized by +the eternal Romantic homelessness; at every turn of his career this +impresses one. Of ancient noble Franconian stock, he felt himself a +foreigner in Bavaria which had acquired Franconia in the Napoleonic +period. In his early life in the military academy at Munich he was +never thoroughly at home, for his was not a military spirit and he was +unable to follow his literary tastes. When finally he was enabled to +study at Wuerzburg and Erlangen, even the friendship of Schelling could +not compensate for the late beginning of a university career which was +filled with the study of modern European and Oriental languages but +which had the bitterest personal disappointments. Even in Italy, the +land of every German poet's dreams, Platen never felt himself at +home, and the pictures of him from his Italian life are of a tragic, +lonesome figure. The discord between body and soul, that homelessness +in one's own physical body which characterized Hoffmann and made him +seem diabolical to so many, is also to be noted in Platen. Carried +over to the moral world, it accounts for his ardent cultivation of +friendship rather than love, and frees him from the bitter accusations +of Heine, whose attack in _The Baths of Lucca_ is one of the most +scurrilous and venomous pasquils in all literary history. Finally, in +the esthetic world, Platen seems largely un-German. His esthetics were +of the Classical and Renaissance times; in an age of the breaking +down of conventions and of literary revolutions, Platen held himself +rigidly aristocratic; he clung to a canon of beauty in an age which +was giving birth to realism. + +Platen's poetry falls into two periods--the early German tentative +period and the later or foreign period, the poems of which were mostly +written in Italy and in imitation of, or adapted from, foreign metres. +Platen is always represented as a master of form, and, since +Jacob Grimm's characterization of him, has been accused of "marble +coldness." That Platen handled difficult metres with virtuosity is not +to be laid against him; it is to the advantage of German verse that +such poems as his _ghasels_ made indigenous, in part, the feeling for +mere beauty in verse. German poets have too often gone the road of +mere formlessness. Platen cultivated style, polished and revised his +lines with as great care as did his arch-enemy Heine, and it is only +a confession of lack of ear to refuse him the name of poet. No one who +reads his Polish Songs can help feeling that they are the products of +fire and inspiration. + +It must be confessed, however, that there is in Platen a remarkable +lack of inner experience. He went through life without ever having +been shaken to the depths of his nature and was, unfortunately, not of +so Olympian a calmness that, like Goethe, he could present the world +in plastic repose and sublimity. With all his refinement and fervor he +has left but few poems of lasting interest, and of these _The Grave in +the Busento_ is perhaps the best. + +[Illustration: THE MAGIC HORN] + + + + +_LUDWIG ACHIM VON ARNIM AND CLEMENS BRENTANO_ + + * * * * * + + THE BOY'S MAGIC HORN[7] (1806) + + WERE I A LITTLE BIRD + + + Were I a little bird, + And had two little wings, + I'd fly to thee; + But I must stay, because + That cannot be. + + Though I be far from thee, + In sleep I dwell with thee, + Thy voice I hear. + But when I wake again, + Then all is drear. + + Each nightly hour my heart + With thoughts of thee will start + When I'm alone; + For thou 'st a thousand times + Pledged me thine own. + + * * * * * + + THE MOUNTAINEER + + + Oh, would I were a falcon wild, + I should spread my wings and soar; + Then I should come a-swooping down + By a wealthy burgher's door. + + In his house there dwells a maiden, + She is called fair Magdalene, + And a fairer brown-eyed damsel + All my days I have not seen. + + On a Monday morning early, + Monday morning, they relate, + Magdalene was seen a-walking + Through the city's northern gate. + + Then the maidens said: "Thy pardon-- + Magdalene, where wouldst thou go?" + "Oh, into my father's garden, + Where I went the night, you know." + + And when she to the garden came, + And straight into the garden ran, + There lay beneath the linden-tree + Asleep, a young and comely man. + + "Wake up, young man, be stirring, + Oh rise, for time is dear, + I hear the keys a-rattling, + And mother will be here." + + "Hearst thou her keys a-rattling, + And thy mother must be nigh, + Then o'er the heath this minute + Oh come with me, and fly!" + + And as they wandered o'er the heath, + There for these twain was spread, + A shady linden-tree beneath, + A silken bridal-bed. + + And three half hours together, + They lay upon the bed. + "Turn round, turn round, brown maiden; + Give me thy lips so red!" + + "Thou sayst so much of turning round, + But naught of wedded troth, + I fear me I have slept away + My faith and honor both." + + "And fearest thou, thou hast slept away + Thy faith and honor too, + I say I'll wed thee yet, my dear, + So thou shalt never rue." + + Who was it sang this little lay, + And sang it o'er with cheer? + On St. Annenberg by the town, + It was the mountaineer. + + He sang it there right gaily, + Drank mead and cool red wine, + Beside him sat and listened + Three dainty damsels fine. + + As many as sand-grains in the sea, + As many as stars in heaven be, + As many as beasts that dwell in fields, + As many as pence which money yields, + As much as blood in veins will flow, + As much as heat in fire will glow, + As much as leaves in woods are seen + And little grasses in the green, + As many as thorns that prick on hedges, + As grains of wheat that harvest pledges, + As much as clover in meadows fair, + As dust a-flying in the air, + As many as fish in streams are found, + And shells upon the ocean's ground, + And drops that in the sea must go, + As many as flakes that shine in snow-- + As much, as manifold as life abounds both far and nigh, + So much, so many times, for e'er, oh thank the Lord on high! + +[Illustration: LUDWIG ACHIM VON ARNIM Stroehling] + +[Illustration: CLEMENS BRENTANO E. Linder] + + * * * * * + + THE SWISS DESERTER + + + At Strassburg in the fort + All woe began for me + The Alpine bugle's call enticed me o'er, + I had to swim to my dear country's shore; + That should not be. + + One hour 'twas in the night, + They took me in my plight, + And led me straightway to the captain's door. + O God, they caught me in the stream--what more? + Now all is o'er. + + Tomorrow morn at ten + The regiment I'll have to face; + They'll lead me there to beg for grace. + I'll have my just reward, I know. + It must be so. + + Ye brothers, all ye men, + Ye'll never see me here again; + The shepherd boy, I say, began it all, + And I accuse the Alpine bugle-call + Of this my fall. + + I pray ye, brothers three, + Come on and shoot at me; + Fear not my tender life to hurt, + Shoot on and let the red blood spurt-- + Come on, I say! + + O Lord of heaven, on high! + Take my poor erring soul + Unto its heavenly goal; + There let it stay forever-- + Forget me never! + + * * * * * + + THE TAILOR IN HELL + + + A tailor 'gan to wander + One Monday morning fair, + And then he met the devil, + Whose feet and legs were bare: + Hallo, thou tailor-fellow, + Come now with me to hell--oh, + And measure clothes for us to wear, + For what we will, is well, oh! + + The tailor measured, then he took + His scissors long, and clipped + The devils' little tails all off, + And to and fro they skipped. + Hallo, thou tailor-fellow, + Now hie thee out of hell--oh, + We do not need this clipping, sir, + For what we will, is well, oh! + + The tailor took his iron out, + And tossed it in the fire; + The devils' wrinkles then he pressed; + Their screams were something dire. + Hallo, thou tailor-fellow, + Begone now from our hell--oh, + We do not need this pressing, + For what we will, is well, oh! + + "Keep still!" he said and pierced their heads + With a bodkin from his sack. + "This way we put the buttons on, + For that's our tailor's knack! + Hallo, thou tailor-fellow, + Now get thee out of hell--oh, + We do not need this dressing, + For what we will, is well, oh! + + With thimble and with needle then + His stitching he began, + And closed the devils' nostrils up + As tight as e'er one can. + + Hallo, thou tailor-fellow, + Now his thee out of hell--oh, + We cannot use our noses, + Do what we will for smell, oh! + + Then he began to cut away-- + It must have made them smart; + With all his might the tailor ripped + The devils' ears apart. + Hallo, thou tailor-fellow, + Now march away from hell--oh, + We else should need a doctor, + If what we will were well--oh! + + And last of all came Lucifer + And cried: "What horror fell! + No devil has his little tail; + So drive him out of hell." + Hallo, thou tailor-fellow, + Now his thee out of hell--oh, + We need to wear no clothes at all-- + For what we will, is well, oh! + + And when the tailor's sack was packed, + He felt so very well--oh! + He hopped and skipped without dismay + And had a laughing spell, oh! + And hurried out of hell--oh, + And stayed a tailor-fellow; + And the devil will catch no tailor now, + Let him steal, as he will--it is well, though! + +[Illustration: THE REAPER Walter Crane] + + * * * * * + + THE REAPER + + + There is a reaper, Death his name; + His might from God the highest came. + Today his knife he'll whet, + 'Twill cut far better yet; + Soon he will come and mow, + And we must bear the woe-- + Beware, fair flower! + + The flowers fresh and green today, + Tomorrow will be mowed away + Narcissus so white, + The meadows' delight, + The hyacinthias pale + And morning-glories frail-- + Beware, fair flower! + + Full many thousand blossoms blithe + Must fall beneath his deadly scythe: + Roses and lilies pure, + Your end is all too sure! + Imperial lilies rare + He will not spare-- + Beware, fair flower! + + The bluet wee, of heaven's hue, + The tulips white and yellow too, + The dainty silver bell, + The golden phlox as well-- + All sink upon the earth. + Oh, what a sorry dearth! + Beware, fair flower! + + Sweet lavender of lovely scent, + And rosemary, dear ornament, + Sword-lilies proud, unfurled, + And basil, quaintly curled, + And fragile violet blue-- + He soon will seize you too! + Beware, fair flower! + + Death, I defy thee! Hasten near + With one great sweep--I have no fear! + Though hurt, I'll stay undaunted, + For I shall be transplanted + Into the garden by heaven's gate, + The heavenly garden we all await. + Rejoice, fair flower! + + + + + +_JACOB AND WILHELM GRIMM_ + + * * * * * + +FAIRY TALES[8] (1812) + +TRANSLATED AND EDITED BY MARGARET HUNT + +THE FROG-KING, OR IRON HENRY + + +In old times, when wishing still helped one, there lived a king whose +daughters were all beautiful, but the youngest was so beautiful that +the sun itself, which has seen so much, was astonished whenever it +shone in her face. Close by the King's castle lay a great dark forest, +and under an old lime-tree in the forest was a well, and when the day +was warm the King's child went out into the forest and sat down by +the side of the cool fountain, and when she was dull she took a +golden ball and threw it up high and caught it, and this ball was her +favorite plaything. + +Now it so happened that, on one occasion, the princess' golden ball +did not fall into the little hand which she was holding up for it, but +onto the ground beyond, and rolled straight into the water. The King's +daughter followed it with her eyes, but it vanished, and the well was +deep so deep that the bottom could not be seen. On this she began to +cry, and cried louder and louder, and could not be comforted. And +as she thus lamented, some one said to her: "What ails thee, King's +daughter? Thou weepest so that even a stone would show pity." She +looked around to the side from whence the voice came, and saw a +frog stretching forth its thick, ugly head from the water. "Ah! old +water-splasher, is it thou?" asked she; "I am weeping for my golden +ball, which has fallen into the well." + +[Illustration: JACOB GRIMM E. Hader] + +[Illustration: WILLIAM GRIMM E. Hader] + +"Be quiet, and do not weep," answered the frog; "I can help thee; but +what wilt thou give me if I bring thy plaything up again?" "Whatever +thou wilt have, dear frog," said she--"my clothes, my pearls and +jewels, and even the golden crown which I am wearing." + +The frog answered, "I do not care for thy clothes, thy pearls and +jewels, or thy golden crown, but if thou wilt love me and let me be +thy companion and play-fellow, and sit by thee at thy little table, +and eat off thy little golden plate, and drink out of thy little cup, +and sleep in thy little bed--if thou wilt promise me this I will go +down below and bring thee thy golden ball again." + +"Oh, yes," said she, "I promise thee all thou wishest, if thou wilt +but bring me my ball back again." She, how ever, thought, "How the +silly frog does talk! He lives in the water with the other frogs and +croaks, and can be no companion to any human being!" + +But the frog, when he had received this promise, put his head into the +water and sank down, and in a short time came swimming up again with +the ball in his mouth, and threw it on the grass. The King's daughter +was delighted to see her pretty plaything once more, and picked it up, +and ran away with it. "Wait, wait," said the frog; "take me with thee; +I can't run as thou canst." But what did it avail him to scream his +croak, croak, after her, as loudly as he could? She did not listen to +it, but ran home and soon forgot the poor frog, who was forced to go +back into his well again. + +The next day, when she had seated herself at the table with the King +and all the courtiers and was eating from her little golden plate, +something came creeping splish splash, splish splash, up the marble +staircase, and when it had got to the top, it knocked at the door and +cried, "Princess, youngest princess, open the door for me." She ran to +see who was outside, but when she opened the door, there sat the frog +in front of it. Then she slammed the door to, in great haste, sat down +to dinner again, and was quite frightened. The King saw plainly that +her heart was beating violently, and said, "My child, what art thou so +afraid of? Is there perchance a giant outside who wants to carry thee +away?" "Ah, no," replied she, "it is no giant, but a disgusting frog." + +"What does the frog want with thee?" "Ah, dear father, yesterday when +I was in the forest sitting by the well, playing, my golden ball fell +into the water. And because I cried so the frog brought it out again +for me, and because he insisted so on it, I promised him he should be +my companion; but I never thought he would be able to come out of his +water! And now he is outside there, and wants to come in to me." + +In the meantime it knocked a second time, and cried + + "Princess! youngest princess! + Open the door for me! + Dost thou not know what thou saidst to me + Yesterday by the cool waters of the fountain! + Princess, youngest princess! + Open the door for me!" + +Then said the King, "That which thou has promised must thou perform. +Go and let him in." She went and opened the door, and the frog hopped +in and followed her, step by step, to her chair. There he sat still +and cried, "Lift me up beside thee." She delayed, until at last the +King commanded her to do it. When the frog was once on the chair he +wanted to be on the table, and when he was on the table he said, "Now, +push thy little golden plate nearer to me that we may eat together." +She did this, but it was easy to see that she did not do it willingly. +The frog enjoyed what he ate, but almost every mouthful she took +choked her. At length he said, "I have eaten and am satisfied; now I +am tired, carry me into thy little room and make thy little silken bed +ready, and we will both lie down and go to sleep." + +The King's daughter began to cry, for she was afraid of the cold frog +which she did not like to touch, and which was now to sleep in her +pretty, clean little bed. But the King grew angry and said, "He +who helped thee when thou wert in trouble ought not afterward to be +despised by thee." So she took hold of the frog with two fingers, +carried him upstairs, and put him in a corner. But when she was in +bed he crept to her and said, "I am tired, I want to sleep as well +as thou; lift me up or I will tell thy father." Then she was terribly +angry, and took him up and threw him with all her might against the +wall. "Now thou wilt be quiet, odious frog," said she. But when he +fell down he was no frog but a king's son with beautiful kind eyes. He +by her father's will was now her dear companion and husband. Then he +told her how he had been bewitched by a wicked witch, and how no one +could have delivered him from the well but herself, and that tomorrow +they would go together into his kingdom. Then they went to sleep, and +next morning when the sun awoke them, a carriage came driving up with +eight white horses, which had white ostrich feathers on their heads, +and were harnessed with golden chains, and behind stood the young +King's servant, faithful Henry. Faithful Henry had been so unhappy +when his master was changed into a frog that he had caused three iron +bands to be laid round his heart, lest it should burst with grief and +sadness. The carriage was to conduct the young King into his kingdom. +Faithful Henry helped them both in, and placed himself behind again, +and was full of joy because of this deliverance. And when they had +driven a part of the way, the King's son heard a crackling behind him +as if something had broken. So he turned round and cried, "Henry, the +carriage is breaking." + +"No, master, it is not the carriage. It is a band from my heart, which +was put there in my great pain when you were a frog and imprisoned in +the well." Again and once again while they were on their way something +cracked, and each time the King's son thought the carriage was +breaking; but it was only the bands which were springing from the +heart of faithful Henry because his master was set free and was happy. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE WOLF AND THE SEVEN LITTLE KIDS + + +There was once on a time an old goat who had seven little kids, and +she loved them with all the love of a mother for her children. One day +she wanted to go into the forest and fetch some food. So she called +all seven to her and said, "Dear children, I have to go into the +forest; be on your guard against the wolf; if he comes in, he will +devour you all--skin, hair, and everything. The wretch often disguises +himself, but you will know him at once by his rough voice and his +black feet." The kids said, "Dear mother, we will take good care of +ourselves; you may go away without any anxiety." Then the old one +bleated and went on her way with an easy mind. + +It was not long before some one knocked at the house door, and cried, +"Open the door, dear children; your mother is here, and has brought +something back with her for each of you." But the little kids knew +that it was the wolf, by the rough voice. "We will not open the door," +cried they; "thou art not our mother. She has a soft, pleasant voice, +but thy voice is rough; thou art the wolf!" Then the wolf went away to +a shopkeeper and bought himself a great lump of chalk, ate this, and +made his voice soft with it. Then he came back, knocked at the door +of the house, and cried, "Open the door, dear children; your mother is +here and has brought something back with her for each of you." But the +wolf had laid his black paws against the window, and the children saw +them and cried, "We will not open the door; our mother has not black +feet like thee; thou art the wolf!" Then the wolf ran to a baker and +said, "I have hurt my feet, rub some dough over them for me." And when +the baker had rubbed his feet over, he ran to the miller and said, +"Strew some white meal over my feet for me." The miller thought to +himself, "The wolf wants to deceive some one," and refused; but the +wolf said, "If thou wilt not do it, I will devour thee." Then the +miller was afraid, and made his paws white for him. Truly men are like +that. + +So now the wretch went for the third time to the house door, knocked +at it, and said, "Open the door for me, children; your dear little +mother has come home, and has brought every one of you something back +from the forest with her." The little kids cried, "First show us thy +paws that we may know if thou art our dear little mother." Then he put +his paws in through the window, and when the kids saw that they were +white, they believed that all he said was true, and opened the door. +But who should come in but the wolf! They were terrified and wanted to +hide themselves. One sprang under the table, the second into the bed, +the third into the stove, the fourth into the kitchen, the fifth into +the cupboard, the sixth under the washing-bowl, and the seventh +into the clock-case. But the wolf found them all, and used no great +ceremony; one after the other he swallowed them down his throat. The +youngest in the clock-case was the only one he did not find. When the +wolf had satisfied his appetite he took himself off, laid himself +down under a tree in the green meadow outside, and went to sleep. Soon +afterward the old goat came home again from the forest. Ah! what +a sight she saw there! The house door stood wide open. The table, +chairs, and benches were thrown down, the washing-bowl lay broken to +pieces, and the quilts and pillows were pulled off the bed. She sought +her children, but they were nowhere to be found. She called them one +after another by name, but no one answered. At last, when she came +to the youngest, a soft voice cried, "Dear mother, I am in the +clock-case." She took the kid out, and it told her that the wolf had +come and had eaten all the others. Then you may imagine how she wept +over her poor children. + +At length in her grief she went out, and the youngest kid ran with +her. When they came to the meadow, there lay the wolf by the tree +snoring so loud that the branches shook. She looked at him on every +side and saw that something was moving and struggling in his gorged +body. "Ah, heavens!" said she, "is it possible that my poor children, +whom he has swallowed down for his supper, can be still alive?" Then +the kid had to run home and fetch scissors, and a needle and thread, +and the goat cut open the monster's stomach. Hardly had she made one +cut than one little kid thrust its head out; and, when she had cut +further, all six sprang out one after another. They were all still +alive and had suffered no injury whatever, for in his greediness the +monster had swallowed them down whole. What rejoicing there was! +Then they embraced their dear mother, and jumped like a tailor at +his wedding. The mother, however, said, "Now go and look for some big +stones, and we will fill the wicked beast's stomach with them while he +is still asleep." Then the seven kids dragged the stones thither with +all speed, and put as many of them into his stomach as they could get +in; and the mother sewed him up again in the greatest haste, so that +he was not aware of anything, and never once stirred. + +When the wolf at length had had his sleep out, he got on his legs, +and, as the stones in his stomach made him very thirsty, he wanted to +go to a well to drink. But when he began to walk and to move about, +the stones in his stomach knocked against one another and rattled. +Then cried he-- + + "What rumbles and tumbles + Against my poor bones? + I thought 'twas six kids, + But it's naught but big stones." + +And when he got to the well and stooped over the water and was just +about to drink, the heavy stones made him fall in and there was no +help, but he had to drown miserably. When the seven kids saw that, +they came running to the spot, and cried aloud, "The wolf is dead! +The wolf is dead!" and danced for joy round about the well with their +mother. + + * * * * * + + + + +RAPUNZEL + + +There were once a man and a woman who had long in vain wished for +a child. At length the woman hoped that God was about to grant her +desire. These people had a little window at the back of their house +from which a splendid garden could be seen, which was full of the most +beautiful flowers and herbs. It was, however, surrounded by a high +wall, and no one dared to go into it because it belonged to an +enchantress, who had great power and was dreaded by all the world. One +day the woman was standing by this window and looking down into the +garden, when she saw a bed which was planted with the most beautiful +rampion (rapunzel), and it looked so fresh and green that she longed +for it, and had the greatest desire to eat some. This desire increased +every day, and as she knew that she could not get any of it, she +quite pined away and looked pale and miserable. Then her husband was +alarmed, and asked, "What aileth thee, dear wife?" "Ah," she replied, +"if I can't get some of the rampion, which is in the garden behind our +house, to eat, I shall die." The man, who loved her, thought, "Sooner +than let my wife die, I will bring her some of the rampion myself, +let it cost me what it will." In the twilight of evening, he clambered +down over the wall into the garden of the enchantress, hastily +clutched a handful of rampion, and took it to his wife. She at once +made herself a salad of it and ate it with much relish. She, however, +liked it so much, so very much, that the next day she longed for it +three times as much as before, and, if he was to have any rest, +her husband must once more descend into the garden. In the gloom +of evening, therefore, he let himself down again; but when he had +clambered down the wall he was terribly afraid, for he saw the +enchantress standing before him. "How can't thou dare," said she with +angry look, "to descend into my garden and steal my rampion like a +thief? Thou shalt suffer for it!" "Ah," answered he, "let mercy +take the place of justice; I only made up my mind to do it out of +necessity. My wife saw your rampion from the window, and felt such +a longing for it that she would have died if she had not got some to +eat." Then the enchantress allowed her anger to be softened, and said +to him, "If the case be as thou sayest, I will allow thee to take +away with thee as much rampion as thou wilt, only I make one +condition--thou must give me the child which thy wife will bring into +the world; it shall be well treated and I will care for it like a +mother." The man in his terror consented to everything, and when the +woman was brought to bed, the enchantress appeared at once, gave the +child the name of Rapunzel, and took it away with her. + +Rapunzel grew into the most beautiful child beneath the sun. When she +was twelve years old, the enchantress shut her into a tower which lay +in a forest and had neither stairs nor door, but quite at the top +was a little window. When the enchantress wanted to go in, she placed +herself beneath this, and cried cried-- + + "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, + Let down thy hair to me." + +Rapunzel had magnificent long hair, fine as spun gold, and when she +heard the voice of the enchantress she unfastened her braided tresses, +wound them round one of the hooks of the window above, and then the +hair fell twenty ells down, and the enchantress climbed up by it. + +After a year or two, it came to pass that the King's son rode through +the forest and went by the tower; there he heard a song, which was so +charming that he stood still and listened. This was Rapunzel, who in +her solitude passed her time in letting her sweet voice resound. The +King's son wanted to climb up to her, and looked for the door of the +tower, but none was to be found. He rode home, but the singing had so +deeply touched his heart that every day he went out into the forest +and listened to it. Once, when he was thus standing behind a tree, he +saw that an enchantress came there, and he heard how she cried-- + + "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, + Let down thy hair." + +Then Rapunzel let down the braids of her hair, and the enchantress +climbed up to her. "If that is the ladder by which one mounts, I will +for once try my fortune," said he; and the next day when it began to +grow dark, he went to the tower and cried-- + + "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, + Let down thy hair." + +Immediately the hair fell down and the King's son climbed up. + +At first Rapunzel was terribly frightened when a man such as her eyes +had never yet beheld came to her; but the King's son began to talk +to her quite like a friend, and told her that his heart had been so +stirred that it had let him have no rest, and he had been forced to +see her. Then Rapunzel lost her fear, and when he asked her if she +would take him for her husband, and she saw that he was young and +handsome, she thought, "He will love me more than old Dame Gothel +does;" and she said yes, and laid her hand in his. She said, "I will +willingly go away with thee, but I do not know how to get down. Bring +with thee a skein of silk every time that thou comest, and I will +weave a ladder with it, and when that is ready I will descend, and +thou wilt take me on thy horse." They agreed that, until that time, he +should always come to see her in the evening, for the old woman came +by day. The enchantress remarked nothing of this, until once Rapunzel +said to her, "Tell me, Dame Gothel, how it happens that you are so +much heavier for me to draw up than the young King's son--he is with +me in a moment." "Ah! thou wicked child," cried the enchantress, "what +do I hear thee say? I thought I had separated thee from all the world, +and yet thou hast deceived me!" In her anger she clutched Rapunzel's +beautiful tresses, wrapped them twice round her left hand, seized a +pair of scissors with the right, and, snip, snap, they were cut off, +and the lovely braids lay on the ground. And she was so pitiless that +she took poor Rapunzel into a desert where she had to live in great +grief and misery. + +On the same day, however, that she cast out Rapunzel, the enchantress +in the evening fastened the braids of hair which she had cut off to +the hook of the window, and when the King's son came and cried cried-- + + "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, + Let down thy hair," + +she let the hair down. The King's son ascended, but he did not find +his dearest Rapunzel above-only the enchantress, who gazed at him with +wicked and venomous looks. "Aha!" she cried mockingly, "thou wouldst +fetch thy dearest, but the beautiful bird sits no longer singing in +the nest; the cat has got it, and will scratch out thy eyes as well. +Rapunzel is lost to thee; thou wilt never see her more." The King's +son was beside himself with pain, and in his despair leapt down from +the tower. He escaped with his life, but the thorns into which he fell +pierced his eyes. Then he wandered quite blind about the forest, ate +nothing but roots and berries, and did nothing but lament and weep +over the loss of his dearest wife. Thus he roamed about in misery for +some years, and at length came to the desert where Rapunzel, with +the twins to which she had given birth, a boy and a girl, lived in +wretchedness. He heard a voice, and it seemed so familiar to him that +he went toward it, and, when he approached, Rapunzel knew him and fell +on his neck and wept. Two of her tears wetted his eyes and they grew +clear again so that he could see with them as before. He led her to +his kingdom where he was joyfully received, and they lived for a long +time afterward, happy and contented. + + * * * * * + + + + +HAENSEL AND GRETHEL + + +Hard by a great forest dwelt a poor wood-cutter with his wife and his +two children. The boy was called Haensel and the girl Grethel. He had +little to bite and to break, and once, when great scarcity fell on the +land, he could no longer procure daily bread. Now when he thought over +this by night in his bed, and tossed about in his anxiety, he groaned +and said to his wife, "What is to become of us? How are we to feed +our poor children when we no longer have anything even for ourselves?" +"I'll tell you what, husband," answered the woman, "early tomorrow +morning we will take the children out into the forest to where it is +the thickest, and there we will light a fire for them, and give each +of them one piece of bread more; then we will go to our work and leave +them alone. They will not find the way home again, and we shall be +rid of them." "No, wife," said the man, "I will not do that; how can I +bear to leave my children alone in the forest? The wild animals would +soon come and tear them to pieces." "O, thou fool!" said she, "then we +must all four die of hunger and thou mayest as well plane the planks +for our coffins;" and she left him no peace until he consented. "But I +feel very sorry for the poor children, all the same," said the man. + +[Illustration: HAeNSEL AND GRETHEL Ludwig Richter] + +The two children had also not been able to sleep for hunger, and had +heard what their step-mother had said to their father. Grethel wept +bitter tears, and said to Haensel, "Now all is over with us." "Be +quiet, Grethel," said Haensel. "Do not distress thyself, I will soon +find a way to help us." And when the old folks had fallen asleep, he +got up, put on his coat, opened the door below, and crept outside. The +moon shone brightly and the white pebbles which lay in front of the +house glittered like real silver pennies. Haensel stooped and put as +many of them in the little pocket of his coat as he could possibly get +in. Then he went back and said to Grethel, "Be comforted, dear little +sister, and sleep in peace; God will not forsake us;" and he lay down +again in his bed. When day dawned, but before the sun had risen, the +woman came and awoke the two children, saying, "Get up, you sluggards! +we are going into the forest to fetch wood." She gave each a little +piece of bread, and said, "There is something for your dinner, but +do not eat it up before then, for you will get nothing else." Grethel +took the bread under her apron, as Haensel had the stones in his +pocket. Then they all set out together on the way to the forest. When +they, had walked a short time, Haensel stood still and peeped back at +the house, and did so again and again. His father said, "Haensel, what +art thou looking at there and staying behind for? Mind what thou art +about, and do not forget how to use thy legs." "Ah, father," said +Haensel, "I am looking at my little white cat, which is sitting upon +the roof, and wants to say good-bye to me." The wife said, "Fool, that +is not thy little cat; that is the morning sun which is shining on the +chimneys." Haensel, however, had not been looking back at the cat, but +had been constantly throwing one of the white pebble-stones out of his +pocket on the road. + +When they had reached the middle of the forest, the father said, "Now, +children, pile up some wood, and I will light a fire that you may not +be cold." Haensel and Grethel gathered brushwood together, as high +as a little hill. The brushwood was lighted, and when the flames were +burning very high the woman said, "Now, children, lay yourselves down +by the fire and rest and we will go into the forest and cut some wood. +When we have done, we will come back and fetch you away." + +Haensel and Grethel sat by the fire, and, when noon came, each ate a +little piece of bread, but, as they heard the strokes of the wood-axe, +they believed that their father was near. It was, however, not the +axe; it was a branch which he had fastened to a withered tree which +the wind was blowing backward and forward; and, as they had been +sitting such a long time, their eyes shut with fatigue and they +fell fast asleep. When at last they awoke it was already dark night. +Grethel began to cry and said, "How are we to get out of the forest +now?" But Haensel comforted her and said, "Just wait a little, until +the moon has risen, and then we will soon find the way." And when the +full moon had risen, Haensel took his little sister by the hand and +followed the pebbles, which shone like newly-coined silver pieces and +showed them the way. + +They walked the whole night long, and by break of day came once more +to their father's house. They knocked at the door, and when the woman +opened it and saw that it was Haensel and Grethel, she said, "You +naughty children, why have you slept so long in the forest? We thought +you were never coming back at all!" The father, however, rejoiced, for +it had cut him to the heart to leave them behind alone. + +Not long afterward, there was once more great scarcity in all parts, +and the children heard their mother saying at night to their father, +"Everything is eaten again; we have one-half loaf left, and after that +there is an end. The children must go. We will take them farther into +the wood, so that they will not find their way out again; there is no +other means of saving ourselves!" The man's heart was heavy, and he +thought, "It would be better for thee to share the last mouthful with +thy children." The woman, however, would listen to nothing that he +had to say, but scolded and reproached him. He who says A must say +B likewise, and, as he had yielded the first time, he had to do so a +second time also. + +The children were, however, still awake and had heard the +conversation. When the old folks were asleep, Haensel again got up, +and wanted to go out and pick up pebbles; but the woman had locked +the door, and Haensel could not get out. Nevertheless he comforted his +little sister, and said, "Do not cry, Grethel, go to sleep quietly. +The good God will help us." + +Early in the morning came the woman, and took the children out of +their beds. Their bit of bread was given to them, but it was still +smaller than the time before. On the way into the forest Haensel +crumbled his in his pocket, and often stood still and threw a morsel +on the ground. "Haensel, why dost thou stop and look around?" asked +the father; "go on." "I am looking back at my little pigeon which +is sitting on the roof, and wants to say good-bye to me," answered +Haensel. "Simpleton!" said the woman, "that is not thy little pigeon, +that is the morning sun that is shining on the chimney." Haensel, +however, little by little, threw all the crumbs on the path. + +The woman led the children still deeper into the forest, where they +had never in their lives been before. Then a great fire was again +made, and the mother said, "Just sit there, you children, and when you +are tired you may sleep a little; we are going into the forest to cut +wood, and in the evening, when we are done, we will come and fetch +you away." When it was noon, Grethel shared her piece of bread with +Haensel, who had scattered his by the way. Then they fell asleep and +evening came and went, but no one came to the poor children. They did +not awake until it was dark night; but Haensel comforted his little +sister and said, "Just wait, Grethel, until the moon rises, and then +we shall see the crumbs of bread which I have strewn about. They will +show us our way home again." When the moon rose they set out, but they +found no crumbs, for the many thousands of birds which fly about in +the woods and fields had picked them all up. Haensel said to Grethel, +"We shall soon find the way," but they did not find it. They walked +the whole night and all the next day too, from morning till evening, +but they did not get out of the forest, and were very hungry, for they +had nothing to eat but two or three berries which grew on the ground. +And as they were so weary that their legs would carry them no longer, +they lay down beneath a tree and fell asleep. + +It was now three mornings since they had left their father's house. +They began to walk again, but they always got so much deeper into the +forest that, if help did not come soon, they must die of hunger and +weariness. When it was mid-day, they saw a beautiful snow-white bird +sitting on a bough, which sang so delightfully that they stood still +and listened to it. And when it had finished its song, it spread +its wings and flew away before them, and they followed it until they +reached a little house, on the roof of which it alighted; and when +they came quite up to the little house they saw that it was built +of bread and covered with cakes, and that the windows were of clear +sugar. "We will set to work on that," said Haensel, "and have a good +meal. I will eat a bit of the roof, and thou, Grethel, canst eat some +of the window; it will taste sweet." Haensel reached up above, and +broke off a little of the roof to try how it tasted, and Grethel leant +against the window and nibbled at the panes. Then a soft voice cried +from the room-- + + "Nibble, nibble, gnaw, + Who is nibbling at my little house?" + +The children answered-- + + "The wind, the wind, + The heaven-born wind," + +and went on eating without disturbing themselves. + +Haensel, who thought the roof tasted very nice, tore down a +great piece of it, and Grethel pushed out the whole of one round +window-pane, sat down, and enjoyed herself with it. Suddenly the door +opened, and a very, very old woman, who supported herself on crutches, +came creeping out. Haensel and Grethel were so terribly frightened +that they let fall what they had in their hands. The old woman, +however, nodded her head, and said, "Oh, you dear children, who has +brought you here? Do come in, and stay with me. No harm shall happen +to you." She took them both by the hand, and led them into her little +house. Then good food was set before them, milk and pancakes, with +sugar, apples, and nuts. Afterward two pretty little beds were covered +with clean white linen, and Haensel and Grethel lay down in them, and +thought they were in heaven. + +The old woman had only pretended to be so kind; she was in reality +a wicked witch, who lay in wait for children, and had only built the +little bread house in order to entice them there. When a child fell +into her power, she killed it, cooked and ate it, and that was a feast +day with her. Witches have red eyes, and cannot see far, but they have +a keen scent, like the beasts, and are aware when human beings draw +near. When Haensel and Grethel came into her neighborhood, she laughed +maliciously, and said mockingly, "I have them; they shall not escape +me again!" Early in the morning, before the children were awake, she +was already up, and when she saw both of them sleeping and looking so +pretty, with their plump red cheeks, she muttered to herself, "That +will be a dainty mouthful!" Then she seized Haensel with her shriveled +hand, carried him into a little stable, and shut him in with a grated +door. He might scream as he liked, that was of no use. Then she went +to Grethel, shook her till she awoke, and cried, "Get up, lazy thing, +fetch some water, and cook something good for thy brother; he is in +the stable outside, and is to be made fat. When he is fat, I will eat +him." Grethel began to weep bitterly, but it was all in vain; she was +forced to do what the wicked witch ordered her. + +And now the best food was cooked for poor Haensel, but Grethel got +nothing but crab-shells. Every morning the woman crept to the little +stable, and cried, "Haensel, stretch out thy finger that I may feel if +thou wilt soon be fat." Haensel, however, stretched out a little bone +to her, and the old woman, who had dim eyes, could not see it, and +thought it was Haensel's finger, and was astonished that there was no +way of fattening him. When four weeks had gone by, and Haensel still +continued thin, she was seized with impatience and would not wait any +longer. "Hola, Grethel," she cried to the girl, "be active, and bring +some water. Let Haensel be fat or lean, tomorrow I will kill him and +cook him." Ah, how the poor little sister did lament when she had +to fetch the water, and how her tears did flow down over her cheeks! +"Dear God, do help us!" she cried. "If the wild beasts in the forest +had but devoured us, we should at any rate have died together." "Just +keep thy noise to thyself," said the old woman; "all that won't help +thee at all." + +Early in the morning, Grethel had to go out and hang up the caldron +with the water, and light the fire. "We will bake first," said the old +woman; "I have already heated the oven, and kneaded the dough." She +pushed poor Grethel out to the oven from which flames of fire were +already darting. "Creep in," said the witch, "and see if it is +properly heated, so that we can shut the bread in." And when once +Grethel was inside, she intended to shut the oven and let her bake in +it, and then she would eat her, too. But Grethel saw what she had in +her mind, and said, "I do not know how I am to do it; how do you get +in?" "Silly goose," said the old woman. "The door is big enough; just +look, I can get in myself!" and she crept up and thrust her head into +the oven. Then Grethel gave her a push that drove her far into it, and +shut the iron door, and fastened the bolt. Oh! then she began to +howl quite horribly, but Grethel ran away, and the godless witch was +miserably burnt to death. + +Grethel, however, ran as quick as lightning to Haensel, opened his +little stable, and cried, "Haensel, we are saved! The old witch is +dead!" Then Haensel sprang out like a bird from its cage when the door +is opened for it. How they did rejoice and embrace each other, and +dance about and kiss each other! And as they had no longer any need to +fear her, they went into the witch's house; and in every corner there +stood chests full of pearls and jewels. "These are far better than +pebbles!" said Haensel, and thrust into his pockets whatever could be +got in; and Grethel said, "I, too, will take something home with me," +and filled her pinafore full. "But now we will go away," said Haensel, +"that we may get out of the witch's forest." + +When they had walked for two hours, they came to a great piece of +water. "We cannot get over," said Haensel, "I see no foot-plank, and +no bridge." "And no boat crosses either," answered Grethel, "but a +white duck is swimming there; if I ask her, she will help us over." +Then she cried-- + + "Little duck, little duck, dost thou see, + Haensel and Grethel are waiting for thee? + There's never a plank, or bridge in sight, + Take us across on thy back so white." + +The duck came to them, and Haensel seated himself on its back, and +told his sister to sit by him. "No," replied Grethel, "that will be +too heavy for the little duck; she shall take us across, one after the +other." The good little duck did so, and when they were once safely +across and had walked for a short time, the forest seemed to be more +and more familiar to them, and at length they saw from afar their +father's house. Then they began to run, rushed into the parlor, and +threw themselves into their father's arms. The man had not known one +happy hour since he had left the children in the forest; the woman, +however, was dead. Grethel emptied her pinafore until pearls and +precious stones ran about the room, and Haensel threw one handful +after another out of his pocket to add to them. Then all anxiety was +at an end, and they lived together in perfect happiness. My tale is +done. There runs a mouse; whosoever catches it may make himself a big +fur cap out of it. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE FISHERMAN AND HIS WIFE + + +There was once on a time a Fisherman who lived with his wife in a +miserable hovel close by the sea, and every day he went out fishing. +And once as he was sitting with his rod, looking at the clear water, +his line suddenly went down, far down below, and when he drew it up +again he brought out a large Flounder. Then the Flounder said to +him, "Hark, you Fisherman, I pray you, let me live; I am no Flounder +really, but an enchanted prince. What good will it do you to kill me? +I should not be good to eat; put me in the water again, and let me +go." "Come," said the Fisherman, "there is no need for so many words +about it--a fish that can talk I should certainly let go, anyhow." +With that he put him back again into the clear water, and the Flounder +went to the bottom, leaving a long streak of blood behind him. +Then the Fisherman got up and went home to his wife in the hovel. +"Husband," said the woman, "have you caught nothing today?" "No," said +the man; "I did catch a Flounder, who said he was an enchanted prince, +so I let him go again." "Did you not wish for anything first?" said +the woman. "No," said the man; "what should I wish for?" "Ah," said +the woman, "it is surely hard to have to live always in this dirty +hovel. You might have wished for a small cottage for us. Go back and +call him. Tell him we want to have a small cottage; he will certainly +give us that." "Ah," said the man, "why should I go there again?" +"Why," said the woman, "you did catch him, and you let him go again; +he is sure to do it. Go at once." The man still did not quite like to +go, but did not like to oppose his wife, either, and so went to the +sea. When he got there the sea was all green and yellow, and no longer +smooth, as before; so he stood and said-- + + "Flounder, Flounder, in the sea, + Come, I pray thee, here to me; + For my wife, good Ilsabil, + Wills not as I'd have her will." + +Then the Flounder came swimming to him and said, "Well, what does she +want, then?" "Ah," said the man, "I did catch you, and my wife says I +really ought to have wished for something. She does not like to live +in a wretched hovel any longer; she would like to have a cottage." +"Go, then," said the Flounder, "she has it already." + +When the man went home, his wife was no longer in the hovel, but, +instead of it, there stood a small cottage, and she was sitting on a +bench before the door. Then she took him by the hand and said to him, +"Just come inside, look, now isn't this a great deal better?" So they +went in, and there was a small porch, and a pretty little parlor and +bedroom and a kitchen and pantry, with the best of furniture, and +fitted up with the most beautiful things made of tin and brass, +whatsoever was wanted. And behind the cottage there was a small yard, +with hens and ducks, and a little garden with flowers and fruit. +"Look," said the wife, "is not that nice!" "Yes," said the husband, +"and so we must always think it; now we will live quite contented." +"We will think about that," said the wife. With that they ate +something and went to bed. + +Everything went well for a week or a fortnight, and then the woman +said, "Hark you, husband, this cottage is far too small for us, and +the garden and yard are little; the Flounder might just as well +have given us a larger house. I should like to live in a great stone +castle; go to the Flounder, and tell him to give us a castle." "Ah, +wife," said the man, "the cottage is quite good enough; why should +we live in a castle?" "What!" said the woman; "just go there, the +Flounder can always do that." "No, wife," said the man, "the Flounder +has just given us the cottage; I do not like to go back so soon. +It might make him angry." "Go," said the woman, "he can do it quite +easily, and will be glad to do it; just you go to him." + +The man's heart grew heavy, and he would not go. He said to himself, +"It is not right," and yet he went. And when he came to the sea the +water was quite purple and dark-blue, and gray and thick, and no +longer green and yellow; but it was still quiet. And he stood there +and said-- + + "Flounder, Flounder, in the sea, + Come, I pray thee, here to me; + For my wife, good Ilsabil, + Wills not as I'd have her will." + +"Well, what does she want, then?" said the Flounder. "Alas," said the +man, half scared, "she wants to live in a great stone castle." "Go to +it, then, she is standing before the door," said the Flounder. + +Then the man went away, intending to go home, but when he got there, +he found a great stone palace, and his wife was just standing on the +steps going in, and she took him by the hand and said, "Come in." So +he went in with her, and in the castle was a great hall paved with +marble, and many servants, who flung wide the doors; and the walls +were all bright with beautiful hangings, and in the rooms were +chairs and tables of pure gold, and crystal chandeliers hung from the +ceiling, and all the rooms and bedrooms had carpets, and food and wine +of the very best were standing on all the tables so that they nearly +broke down beneath it. Behind the house, too, there was a great +courtyard, with stables for horses and cows, and the very best of +carriages; there was a magnificent large garden, too, with the most +beautiful flowers and fruit-trees, and a park quite half a mile long, +in which were stags, deer, and hares, and everything that could +be desired. "Come," said the woman, "isn't that beautiful?" "Yes, +indeed," said the man; "now let it be; we will live in this beautiful +castle and be content." "We will consider about that," said the woman, +"and sleep upon it;" thereupon they went to bed. + +Next morning the wife awoke first, and it was just daybreak, and from +her bed she saw the beautiful country lying before her. Her husband +was still stretching himself, so she poked him in the side with her +elbow, and said, "Get up, husband, and just peep out of the window. +Look you, couldn't we be the King over all that land? Go to the +Flounder, we will be the King." "Ah, wife," said the man, "why should +we be King? I do not want to be King." "Well," said the wife, "if you +won't be King, I will; go to the Flounder, for I will be King." "Oh, +wife," said the man, "why do you want to be King? I do not like to +say that to him." "Why not?" asked the woman; "go to him this instant; +I must be King!" So the man went, and was quite unhappy because his +wife wished to be King. "It is not right; it is not right," thought +he. He did not wish to go; but yet he went. + +And when he came to the sea, it was quite dark-gray, and the water +heaved up from below, and smelt putrid. Then he went and stood by it, +and said-- + + "Flounder, Flounder, in the sea, + Come, I pray thee, here to me; + For my wife, good Ilsabil, + Wills not as I'd have her will." + +"Well, what does she want, then?" asked the Flounder. "Alas," said the +man, "she wants to be King." "Go to her; she is King already." + +So the man went, and when he came to the palace, the castle had become +much larger, and had a great tower and magnificent ornaments, and +the sentinel was standing before the door, and there were numbers of +soldiers with kettle-drums and trumpets. And when he went inside the +house, everything was of real marble and gold, with velvet covers +and great golden tassels. Then the doors of the hall were opened, and +there was the court in all its splendor, and his wife was sitting on +a high throne of gold and diamonds, with a great crown of gold on her +head, and a sceptre of pure gold and jewels in her hand, and on both +sides of her stood her maids-in-waiting in a row, each of them always +one head shorter than the last. + +Then he went and stood before her, and said, "Ah, wife, and now you +are King!" "Yes," said the woman, "now I am King." So he stood and +looked at her, and when he had looked at her thus for a time he said, +"And now that you are King, let all else be; now we will wish for +nothing more." "Nay, husband," said the woman, quite anxiously, +"I find time pass very heavily; I can bear it no longer; go to the +Flounder. I am King, but I must be Emperor, too." + +"Alas, wife, why do you wish to be Emperor?" "Husband," said she, "go +to the Flounder. I will be Emperor." "Alas, wife," said the man, "he +cannot make you Emperor; I may not say that to the fish. There is only +one Emperor in the land. An Emperor the Flounder cannot make you! I +assure you he cannot." + +"What!" said the woman, "I am the King, and you are nothing but my +husband; will you go this moment? Go at once! If he can make a king +he can make an emperor. I will be Emperor; go instantly." So he was +forced to go. As the man went, however, he was troubled in mind, +and thought to himself, "It will not end well; it will not end well! +Emperor is too shameless! The Flounder will at last be tired out." + +With that he reached the sea, and the sea was quite black and thick, +and began to boil up from below, so that it threw up bubbles, and such +a sharp wind blew over it that it curdled, and the man was afraid. +Then he went and stood by it, and said-- + + "Flounder, Flounder, in the sea, + Come, I pray thee, here to me; + For my wife, good Ilsabil, + Wills not as I'd have her will." + +"Well, what does she want, then?" asked the Flounder. "Alas, +Flounder," said he, "my wife wants to be Emperor." "Go to her," said +the Flounder; "she is Emperor already." + +So the man went, and when he got there the whole palace was made +of polished marble with alabaster figures and golden ornaments, and +soldiers were marching before the door blowing trumpets, and beating +cymbals and drums; and in the house, barons, and counts, and dukes +were going about as servants. Then they opened the doors to him, +which were of pure gold. And when he entered, there sat his wife on a +throne, which was made of one piece of gold, and was quite two miles +high; and she wore a great golden crown that was three yards high, and +set with diamonds and carbuncles, and in one hand she had the sceptre, +and in the other the imperial orb; and on both sides of her stood +the yeomen of the guard in two rows, each being smaller than the one +before him, from the biggest giant, who was two miles high, to the +very smallest dwarf, just as big as my little finger. And before it +stood a number of princes and dukes. + +Then the man went and stood among them, and said, "Wife, are you +Emperor now?" "Yes," said she, "now I am Emperor." Then he stood and +looked at her well; and when he had looked at her thus for some time, +be said, "Ah, wife, be content, now that you are Emperor." "Husband," +said she, "why are you standing there? Now, I am Emperor, but I will +be Pope too; go to the Flounder." + +"Alas, wife," said the man, "what will you not wish for? You cannot +be Pope; there is but one in Christendom; he cannot make you Pope." +"Husband," said she, "I will be Pope; go immediately, I must be Pope +this very day." "No, wife," said the man, "I do not like to say that +to him; that would not do; it is too much; the Flounder can't make you +Pope." "Husband," said she, "what nonsense! If he can make an emperor +he can make a pope. Go to him directly. I am Emperor and you are +nothing but my husband; will you go at once?" + +Then he was afraid, and went; but he was quite faint, and shivered and +shook, and his knees and legs trembled. And a high wind blew over the +land, and the clouds flew, and toward evening all grew dark, and the +leaves fell from the trees, and the water rose and roared as if it +were boiling, and splashed upon the shore; and in the distance he saw +ships which were firing guns in their sore need, pitching and tossing +on the waves. And yet in the midst of the sky there was still a small +bit of blue, though on every side it was as red as in a heavy storm. +So, full of despair, he went and stood in much fear and said-- + + "Flounder, Flounder, in the sea, + Come, I pray thee, here to me; + For my wife, good Ilsabil, + Wills not as I'd have her will." + +"Well, what does she want, then?" asked the Flounder. "Alas," said the +man, "she wants to be Pope." "Go to her then," said the Flounder; "she +is Pope already." + +So he went, and when he got there, he saw what seemed to be a large +church surrounded by palaces. Inside, however, everything was lighted +up with thousands and thousands of candles, and his wife was clad in +gold, and she was sitting on a much higher throne, and had three great +golden crowns on, and around about her there was much ecclesiastical +splendor; and on both sides of her was a row of candles the largest of +which was as tall as the very tallest tower, down to the very smallest +kitchen candle, and all the emperors and kings were on their knees +before her, kissing her shoe. He pushed his way through the crowd. +"Wife," said the man, and looked attentively at her, "are you now +Pope?" "Yes," said she, "I am Pope." So he stood and looked at her, +and it was just as if he was looking at the bright sun. When he had +stood looking at her thus for a short time, he said, "Ah, wife, if you +are Pope, do let well alone!" But she looked as stiff as a post, and +did not move or show any signs of life. Then said he, "Wife, now that +you are Pope, be satisfied; you cannot become anything greater now." +"I will consider about that," said the woman. Thereupon they both +went to bed, but she was not satisfied, and greediness let her have no +sleep, for she was continually thinking what there was left for her to +be. + +The man slept well and soundly, for he had run about a great deal +during the day; but the woman could not fall asleep at all, and flung +herself from one side to the other the whole night through, thinking +always what more was left for her to be, but unable to call to mind +anything else. At length the sun began to rise, and when the woman saw +the red of dawn, she sat up in bed and looked at it. And when, through +the window, she saw the sun thus rising, she said, "Cannot I, too, +order the sun and moon to rise?" "Husband," said she, poking him in +the ribs with her elbow, "wake up! go to the Flounder, for I wish +to be even as God is." The man was still half asleep, but he was +so horrified that he fell out of bed. He thought he must have heard +amiss, and rubbed his eyes, and said, "Alas, wife, what are you +saying?" "Husband," said she, "if I can't order the sun and moon to +rise, and have to look on and see the sun and moon rising, I can't +bear it. I shall not know what it is to have another happy hour, +unless I can make them rise myself." + +Then she looked at him so terribly that a shudder ran over him, and +said, "Go at once; I wish to be like unto God." "Alas, wife," said the +man, falling on his knees before her, "the Flounder cannot do that; he +can make an emperor and a pope; I beseech you, go on as you are, and +be Pope." Then she fell into a rage, and her hair flew wildly about +her head, and she cried, "I will not endure this, I'll not bear it any +longer; wilt thou go?" Then he put on his trousers and ran away like a +madman. But outside a great storm was raging and blowing so hard that +he could scarcely keep his feet; houses and trees toppled over, the +mountains trembled, rocks rolled into the sea, the sky was pitch +black, and it thundered and lightened, and the sea came in with black +waves as high as church-towers and mountains, and all with crests +of white foam at the top. Then he cried, but could not hear his own +words-- + + "Flounder, Flounder, in the sea, + Come, I pray thee, here to me; + For my wife, good Ilsabil, + Wills not as I'd have her will" + +"Well, what does she want, then?" asked the Flounder. "Alas," said +he, "she wants to be like unto God." "Go to her, and you will find +her back again in the dirty hovel." And there they are living still at +this very time. + + + + +_ERNST MORITZ ARNDT_ + + * * * * * + + + SONG OF THE FATHERLAND[9] (1813) + + + God, who gave iron, purposed ne'er + That man should be a slave; + Therefore the sabre, sword, and spear + In his right hand He gave. + Therefore He gave him fiery mood, + Fierce speech, and free-born breath, + That he might fearlessly the feud + Maintain through blood and death. + + Therefore will we what God did say, + With honest truth, maintain-- + And ne'er a fellow-creature slay, + A tyrant's pay to gain! + But he shall perish by stroke of brand + Who fighteth for sin and shame, + And not inherit the German land + With men of the German name. + + O Germany! bright Fatherland! + O German love so true! + Thou sacred land--thou beauteous land-- + We swear to thee anew! + Outlawed, each knave and coward shall + The crow and raven feed; + But we will to the battle all-- + Revenge shall be our meed. + + Flash forth, flash forth, whatever can, + To bright and flaming life! + Now, all ye Germans, man for man, + Forth to the holy strife! + Your hands lift upward to the sky-- + Your hearts shall upward soar-- + And man for man let each one cry, + Our slavery is o'er! + + Let sound, let sound, whatever can + Trumpet and fife and drum! + This day our sabres, man for man, + To stain with blood, we come; + With hangman's and with coward's blood, + O glorious day of ire + That to all Germans soundeth good!-- + Day of our great desire! + + Let wave, let wave, whatever can-- + Standard and banner wave! + Here will we purpose, man for man, + To grace a hero's grave. + Advance, ye brave ranks, hardily-- + Your banners wave on high; + We'll gain us freedom's victory, + Or freedom's death we'll die! + +[Illustration: ERNST MORITZ ARNDT Julius Roeting] + + + * * * * * + + + UNION SONG[10] (1814) + + + This blessed hour we are united, + Of German men a mighty choir, + And from the lips of each, delighted, + Our praying souls to heaven aspire; + With high and sacred awe abounding + We join in solemn thoughts today, + And so our hearts should be resounding + In clear harmonic song and play. + + To whom shall foremost thanks be given? + To God, the great, so long concealed, + Who, when the cloud of shame was riven, + Himself in flames to us revealed, + Who, stubborn foes with lightning felling, + Restored to us our strength of yore, + Who, on the stars in power dwelling, + Reigns ever and forevermore. + + Who should our second wish be hearing? + The majesty of Fatherland-- + Destroyed be those who still are sneering! + Hail them who with it fall and stand! + By virtue winning admiration, + Beloved for honesty and might, + Long live through centuries our nation + As strong in honor and in might! + + The third is German manhood's treasure-- + Ring out it shall, with clearness mete! + For Freedom is the German pleasure, + And Germans step to Freedom's beat. + Be life and death by her inspired-- + Of German hearts, oh, longing bright! + And death for Freedom's sake desired + Is German honor and delight. + + The fourth--for noble consecration + Now lift on high both heart and hand! + Old loyalty within our nation + And German faith forever stand!-- + These virtues shall, our weal assuring, + Remain our union's shield and stay; + Our manly word will be enduring + Until the world shall pass away. + + Now let the final chord be ringing + In jubilee--stand not apart! + Let sound our mighty, joyful singing + From lip to lip, from heart to heart! + The weal from which no devils bar us, + The word that doth our league infold-- + The bliss which tyrants cannot mar us + We must believe in, we must hold! + + + + +_THEODOR KOeRNER_ + + * * * * * + + MEN AND KNAVES[11] (1813) + + + The storm is out; the land is roused; + Where is the coward who sits well-housed? + Fie, on thee, boy, disguised in curls, + Behind the stove, 'mong gluttons and girls! + A graceless, worthless wight thou must be; + No German maid desires thee, + No German song inspires thee, + No German Rhine-wine fires thee. + Forth in the van, + Man by man, + Swing the battle-sword who can! + + When we stand watching, the livelong night, + Through piping storms, till morning light, + Thou to thy downy bed canst creep, + And there in dreams of rapture sleep. + + _Chorus_. + + When, hoarse and shrill, the trumpet's blast, + Like the thunder of God, makes our hearts beat fast, + Thou in the theatre lov'st to appear, + Where trills and quavers tickle the ear. + + _Chorus_. + + When the glare of noonday scorches the brain, + When our parched lips seek water in vain, + Thou canst make the champagne corks fly, + At the groaning tables of luxury. + + _Chorus_. + + When we, as we rush to the strangling fight, + Send home to our true loves a long "Good night," + Thou canst hie thee where love is sold, + And buy thy pleasure with paltry gold. + + _Chorus_. + + When lance and bullet come whistling by, + And death in a thousand shapes draws nigh, + Thou canst sit at thy cards, and kill + King, queen, and knave, with thy spadille. + + _Chorus_. + + If on the red field our bell should toll, + Then welcome be death to the patriot's soul. + Thy pampered flesh shall quake at its doom, + And crawl in silk to a hopeless tomb. + A pitiful exit thine shall be; + No German maid shall weep for thee, + No German song shall they sing for thee, + No German goblets shall ring for thee. + Forth in the van, + Man for man, + Swing the battle-sword who can! + + * * * * * + + LUeTZOW'S WILD BAND[12] (1813) + + + What gleams through the woods in the morning sun? + Hear it nearer and nearer draw! + It winds in and out in columns dun, + And the trumpet-notes on the roused winds run, + And they startle the soul with awe. + Should you of the comrades black demand-- + That is Luetzow's wild and untamed band. + + What passes swift through the darksome glade, + And roves o'er the mountains all? + It crouches in nightly ambuscade; + The hurrah breaks round the foe dismayed, + And the Frankish sergeants fall. + Should you of the rangers black demand-- + That is Luetzow's wild and audacious band. + + Where the vineyards flourish, there roars the Rhine; + There the tyrant thought him secure; + Then by thunder-crash and lightning-shine + In the waters plunges the fighting line; + Of the hostile bank makes sure. + Should you of the swimmers black demand-- + That is Luetzow's wild and foolhardy band. + + There down in the valley what clamorous fight! + What clangor of bloody swords! + Fierce-hearted horsemen wage the fight, + And the spark of freedom's at last alight, + Flaming red the heavens towards. + Should you of the horsemen black demand-- + That is Luetzow's wild and intrepid band. + + Who with death-rattle there bid the day farewell + 'Mid the moans of prostrate foes? + Of the hand of death the drawn features tell, + Yet the dauntless hearts triumphant swell, + For his Fatherland's safe each knows! + Should you of the black-clad fallen demand-- + That is Luetzow's wild and invincible band. + + The wild, fierce band and the Teuton band, + For all tyrants' blood athirst!-- + So you who would mourn us, be not unmanned; + For the morning dawns, and we freed our land, + Though to free it we won death first! + Then tell, at your grandsons' rapt demand: + That was Luetzow's wild and unconquered band! + +[Illustration: THEODOR KOeRNER] + + * * * * * + + PRAYER DURING BATTLE[13](1813) + + + Father, I call to thee. + The roaring artillery's clouds thicken round me, + The hiss and the glare of the loud bolts confound me. + Ruler of battles, I call on thee + O Father, lead thou me! + + O Father, lead thou me; + To victory, to death, dread Commander, O guide me; + The dark valley brightens when thou art beside me; + Lord, as thou wilt, so lead thou me. + God, I acknowledge thee. + + God, I acknowledge thee; + When the breeze through the dry leaves of autumn is moaning, + When the thunder-storm of battle is groaning, + Fount of mercy, in each I acknowledge thee. + O Father, bless thou me! + + O Father, bless thou me; + I trust in thy mercy, whate'er may befall me; + 'Tis thy word that hath sent me; that word can recall me. + Living or dying, O bless thou me! + Father, I honor thee. + + Father, I honor thee; + Not for earth's hoards or honors we here are contending; + All that is holy our swords are defending; + Then falling, and conquering, I honor thee. + God, I repose in thee. + + God, I repose in thee; + When the thunders of death my soul are greeting, + When the gashed veins bleed, and the life is fleeting, + In thee, my God, I repose in thee. + Father, I call on thee. + + + + +_MAXIMILIAN GOTTFRIED VON SCHENKENDORF_ + + * * * * * + + THE MOTHER TONGUE[14] (1814) + + + Mother tongue, oh, tongue most dear, + Sweet and gladsome to mine ear! + Word that first I heard, endearing + Word of love, first timid sound + That I stammered--still I'm hearing + Thee within my soul profound. + + Oh, my heart will ever grieve + When my Fatherland I leave, + For in foreign tongues repeating + Words of strangers, I lose cheer. + Oh, they seem not like a greeting, + And I'll never hold them dear. + + Speech so wonderful to hear-- + How thou ringest pure and clear! + Though thy beauty hath enthralled me, + Still I'll deepen my delight, + Awed, as if my fathers called me + From the grave's eternal night. + + Ring on ever, tongue of old, + Tongue of lovers, heroes bold! + Rise, old song, though lost for ages, + From thy secret tomb, and go + Live again in sacred pages, + Set all hearts once more aglow. + + Breath of God is everywhere, + Custom sacred here as there. + Yet when I give thanks, am praying, + A beloved heart would seek, + When my highest thoughts I'm saying-- + Then my mother tongue I speak. + + +[Illustration: MAXIMILIAN GOTTFRIED VON SCHENKENDORF] + + * * * * * + + SPRING GREETING TO THE FATHERLAND[15] (1814) + + + Fatherland, thy pleasures greet me + After bondage, war's distress! + I must steep my soul completely + Here in all thy gorgeousness. + Where the oak-trees murmur mildly + With their crowns to heaven raised, + Mighty streams are roaring wildly-- + There the German land be praised. + + From the Rhinefall, all delighted, + I have walked, from Danube's spring; + Mildly, in my soul benighted + Love-stars rose, illumining; + Now I would descend, and brightly + Radiate a joyous shine + Into Neckar's valleys sprightly, + O'er the blue and silver Main. + + Onward fly, my message, bringing + Freedom's greeting evermore, + Far away thou shalt be ringing + By my home on Memel's shore. + Where the German tongue is spoken, + Hearts have fought to make her free-- + Fought right gladly--there unbroken + Stays our sacred Germany. + + All with sunlight seems a-blazing, + All things seem adorned with green-- + Pastures where the herds are grazing, + Hills where ripening grapes are seen. + Such a spring time has not graced thee, + Fatherland, for thousand years; + Glory of thy fathers faced thee + Once in dreams, and now appears. + + Once more weapons must be wielded; + Go, a spirit-fray begin, + Till the latest foe has yielded-- + He who threatens you within. + Passions vile ye should be blighting, + Hate, suspicion, envy, greed-- + Then take, after heavy fighting, + German hearts, the rest ye need. + + Then shall all men be possessing + Honor, humbleness, and might, + And thus only can the blessing + Sent our monarch shine with right. + All the ancient sins must perish-- + In the God-sent deluge all, + And the heritage we cherish + To a worthy heir must fall. + + God has blessed the grain that's growing + And the vineyard's fruit no less; + Men with hunter's joy are glowing; + In the homes reigns happiness. + And our freedom's sure foundation, + Pious longing, fills the breast; + Love that charms in every nation + In our German land is best. + + Ye that are in castles dwelling, + Or in towns that grace our soil, + Farmers that in harvests swelling + Reap the fruits of German toil-- + German brothers dear, united, + Mark my words both old and new! + That our land may stay unblighted, + Keep this concord, and be true! + + * * * * * + + FREEDOM[16] (1815) + + + Freedom that I love, + Shining in my heart, + Come now from above, + Angel that thou art. + + Wilt thou ne'er appear + To the world oppressed? + With thy grace and cheer + Only stars are blessed? + + In the forest gay + When the trees are green, + 'Neath the blooming spray, + Freedom, thou art seen. + + Oh, what dear delight! + Music fills the air, + And thy secret might + Thrills us everywhere, + + When the rustling boughs + Friendly greetings send, + When we lovers' vows + Looks and kisses spend. + + But the heart aspires + Upward evermore, + And our high desires + Ever sky-ward soar. + + From his simple kind + Comes my rustic child, + Shows his heart and mind + To the world beguiled; + + For him gardens bloom, + For him fields have grown, + Even in, the gloom + Of a world of stone. + + Where in that man's breast + Glows a God-sent flame + Who with loyal zest + Loves the ancient name, + + Where the men unite + Valiantly to face + Foes of honor's right-- + There dwells freedom's race. + + Ramparts, brazen doors + Still may bar the light, + Yet the spirit soars + Into regions bright; + + For the fathers' grave, + For the church to fall, + And for dear ones--brave, + True at freedom's call-- + + That indeed is light, + Glowing rosy-red; + Heroes' cheeks grow bright + And more fair when dead. + + Down to us, oh, guide + Heaven's grace, we pray! + In our hearts reside-- + German hearts--to stay! + + Freedom sweet and fair, + Trusting, void of fear, + German nature e'er + Was to thee most clear. + + + + +_LUDWIG UHLAND_ + + * * * * * + + THE CHAPEL[17] (1805) + + + Yonder chapel, on the mountain, + Looks upon a vale of joy; + There, below, by moss and fountain, + Gaily sings the herdsman's boy. + + Hark! Upon the breeze descending, + Sound of dirge and funeral bell; + And the boy, his song suspending, + Listens, gazing from the dell. + + Homeward to the grave they're bringing + Forms that graced the peaceful vale; + Youthful herdsman, gaily singing! + Thus they'll chant thy funeral wail. + + * * * * * + + THE SHEPHERD'S SONG ON THE LORD'S DAY[18] (1805) + + + The Lord's own day is here! + Alone I kneel on this broad plain; + A matin bell just sounds; again + 'Tis silence, far and near. + + Here kneel I on the sod; + O deep amazement, strangely felt! + As though, unseen, vast numbers knelt + And prayed with me to God! + + Yon heav'n afar and near-- + So bright, so glorious seems its cope + As though e'en now its gates would ope-- + The Lord's own day is here! + +[Illustration: LUDWIG UHLAND] + + * * * * * + + THE CASTLE BY THE SEA[19] (1805) + + + Hast thou seen that lordly castle, + That castle by the sea? + Golden and red above it + The clouds float gorgeously. + + And fain it would stoop downward + To the mirrored lake below; + And fain it would soar upward + In the evening's crimson glow. + + Well have I seen that castle, + That castle by the sea, + And the moon above it standing, + And the mist rise solemnly. + + The winds and the waves of ocean-- + Had they a merry chime? + Didst thou hear, from those lofty chambers, + The harp and the minstrel's rhyme? + + The winds and the waves of ocean, + They rested quietly; + But I heard in the gale a sound of wail, + And tears came to mine eye. + + And sawest thou on the turrets + The king and his royal bride, + And the wave of their crimson mantles, + And the golden crown of pride? + + Led they not forth, in rapture, + A beauteous maiden there, + Resplendent as the morning sun, + Beaming with golden hair! + + Well saw I the ancient parents, + Without the crown of pride; + They were moving slow, in weeds of woe-- + No maiden was by their side! + + * * * * * + + SONG OF THE MOUNTAIN BOY[20] (1806) + + + The mountain shepherd-boy am I; + The castles all below me spy. + The sun sends me his earliest beam, + Leaves me his latest, lingering gleam. + I am the boy of the mountain! + + The mountain torrent's home is here, + Fresh from the rock I drink it clear; + As out it leaps with furious force, + I stretch my arms and stop its course. + I am the boy of the mountain! + + I claim the mountain for my own; + In vain the winds around me moan; + From north to south let tempests brawl-- + My song shall swell above them all. + I am the boy of the mountain! + + Thunder and lightning below me lie, + Yet here I stand in upper sky; + I know them well, and cry, "Harm not + My father's lowly, peaceful cot." + I am the boy of the mountain! + + But when I hear the alarm-bell sound, + When watch-fires gleam from the mountains round, + Then down I go and march along, + And swing my sword, and sing my song. + I am the boy of the mountain! + +[Illustration: THE VILLA BY THE SEA From the Painting by Arnold Boecklin] + + * * * * * + + DEPARTURE[21] (1806) + + + What jingles and carols along the street! + Fling open your casements, damsels sweet! + The prentice' friends, they are bearing + The boy on his far wayfaring. + + 'Mid fluttering ribbons and tossing caps, + Full merry the rabble huzzas and claps; + But the boy regards not the token-- + He walks like one heartbroken. + + Full clear clinks the wine-can, full red gleams the wine + "Drink deep and drink deeper, dear brother mine!" + "Oh, have done with the red wine of parting + That burns me within with its smarting!" + + And outside from the cottage, last of all, + A maiden peeps out and her tear-drops fall, + Yet her tear-drops to none she discloses + But forget-me-nots and roses. + + And outside by the cottage, last of all, + The boy glances up at a casement small, + And glances down without greeting. + 'Neath his hand his heart is beating. + + "What, brother! Art lacking a bright nosegay? + See yonder--the beckoning, blossomy spray! + God save thee, thou prettiest sweeting! + Drop down now a nosegay for greeting!" + + "Nay, brothers, pass yonder casement by. + No prettiest sweeting like her have I. + In the sun those blossoms would wither; + The wind it would blow them thither." + + So farther and farther with shout and song! + And the maiden listens and harkens long + "Ah, me! he is flown now beyond me-- + The boy I have loved so fondly! + + And here I stay, with my lonely lot, + With roses, ah!--and forget-me-not, + And he whose heart I'd be sharing-- + He is gone on his far wayfaring!" + + * * * * * + + FAREWELL[22] (1807) + + + Farewell, farewell! From thee + Today, love, must I sever. + One kiss, one kiss give me, + Ere I quit thee forever! + + One blossom from yon tree + O give to me, I pray! + No fruit, no fruit for me! + So long I may not stay. + + +[Illustration: LEAVING AT DAWN] + + * * * * * + + THE HOSTESS' DAUGHTER[23] (1809) + + + Three students had cross'd o'er the Rhine's dark tide; + At the door of a hostel they turned aside. + + "Hast thou, Dame hostess, good ale and wine + And where is thy daughter, so sweet and fine?" + + "My ale and wine are cool and clear; + On her death-bed lieth my daughter dear." + + And when to the chamber they made their way, + In a sable coffin the damsel lay. + + The first--the veil from her face he took, + And gazed upon her with mournful look: + + "Alas! fair maiden--didst thou still live, + To thee my love would I henceforth give!" + + The second--he lightly replaced the shroud, + Then round he turned him, and wept aloud: + + "Thou liest, alas I on thy death-bed here; + I loved thee fondly for many a year!" + + The third--he lifted again the veil, + And gently he kissed those lips so pale: + + "I love thee now, as I loved of yore, + And thus will I love thee forevermore!" + + * * * * * + + THE GOOD COMRADE[24] (1809) + + + I had a gallant comrade, + No better e'er was tried; + The drum beat loud to battle-- + Beside me, to its rattle, + He marched, with equal stride. + + A bullet flies toward us us-- + "Is that for me or thee?" + It struck him, passing o'er me; + I see his corpse before me + As 'twere a part of me! + + And still, while I am loading, + His outstretched hand I view; + "Not now--awhile we sever; + But, when we live forever, + Be still my comrade true!" + + * * * * * + + THE WHITE HART[25] (1811) + + + Three huntsmen forth to the greenwood went; + To hunt the white hart was their intent. + + They laid them under a green fir-tree, + And a singular vision befell those three. + + THE FIRST HUNTSMAN + + I dreamt I arose and beat on the bush, + When forth came rushing the stag--hush, hush! + + THE SECOND + + As with baying of hound he came rushing along, + I fired my gun at his hide--bing, bang! + + THE THIRD + + And when the stag on the ground I saw, + I merrily wound my horn--trara! + + Conversing thus did the huntsmen lie, + When lo! the white hart came bounding by; + + And before the huntsmen had noted him well, + He was up and away over mountain and dell!-- + Hush, hush!--bing, bang!--trara! + + * * * * * + + THE LOST CHURCH[26] (1812) + + + When one into the forest goes, + A music sweet the spirit blesses; + But whence it cometh no one knows, + Nor common rumor even guesses. + From the lost Church those strains must swell + That come on all the winds resounding; + The path to it now none can tell, + That path with pilgrims once abounding. + + As lately, in the forest, where + No beaten path could be discover'd, + All lost in thought, I wander'd far, + Upward to God my spirit hover'd. + When all was silent round me there, + Then in my ears that music sounded; + The higher, purer, rose my prayer, + The nearer, fuller, it resounded. + + Upon my heart such peace there fell, + Those strains with all my thoughts so blended, + That how it was I cannot tell + That I so high that hour ascended. + It seem'd a hundred years and more + That I had been thus lost in dreaming, + When, all earth's vapors op'ning o'er, + A free large place stood, brightly beaming. + + The sky it was so blue and bland, + The sun it was so full and glowing, + As rose a minster vast and grand, + The golden light all round it flowing. + The clouds on which it rested seem'd + To bear it up like wings of fire; + Piercing the heavens, so I dream'd, + Sublimely rose its lofty spire. + + The bell--what music from it roll'd! + Shook, as it peal'd, the trembling tower; + Rung by no mortal hand, but toll'd + By some unseen, unearthly power. + The selfsame power from Heaven thrill'd + My being to its utmost centre, + As, all with fear and gladness fill'd, + Beneath the lofty dome I enter. + + I stood within the solemn pile-- + Words cannot tell with what amazement, + As saints and martyrs seem'd to smile + Down on me from each gorgeous casement. + I saw the picture grow alive, + And I beheld a world of glory, + Where sainted men and women strive + And act again their godlike story. + + Before the altar knelt I low-- + Love and devotion only feeling, + While Heaven's glory seem'd to glow, + Depicted on the lofty ceiling. + Yet when again I upward gazed, + The mighty dome in twain was shaken, + And Heaven's gate wide open blazed, + And every veil away was taken. + + What majesty I then beheld, + My heart with adoration swelling; + What music all my senses fill'd, + Beyond the organ's power of telling, + In words can never be exprest; + Yet for that bliss who longs sincerely, + O let him to the music list, + That in the forest soundeth clearly! + + * * * * * + + CHARLEMAGNE'S VOYAGE[27] (1812) + + + With comrades twelve upon the main + King Charles set out to sail. + The Holy Land he hoped to gain, + But drifted in a gale. + + Then spake Sir Roland, hero brave: + "Well I can fight and shield; + Yet neither stormy wind nor wave + Will to my weapon yield." + + Sir Holger spoke, from Denmark's strand: + "The harp I feign would play; + But what avails the music bland + When tempests roaring sway!" + + Sir Oliver was not too glad; + Upon his sword he'd stare: + "For my own weal 'twere not so bad, + I grieve, for good Old Clare." + + Said wicked Ganilon with gall + (He said it 'neath his breath): + "The devil come and take ye all-- + Were I but spared this death!" + + Archbishop Turpin deeply sighed: + "The knights of God are we. + O come, our Savior, be our guide, + And lead us o'er the sea!" + + Then spake Sir Richard Fearless stern: + "Ye demons there in hell, + I served ye many a goodly turn, + Now serve ye me as well!" + + "My counsel often has been heard," + Sir Naimes did remark. + "Fresh water, though, and helpful word + Are rare upon a bark." + + Then spake Sir Riol, old and gray: + "An aged knight am I; + And they shall lay my corpse away + Where it is good and dry." + + And then Sir Guy began to sing-- + He was a courtly knight: + "Feign would I have a birdie's wing, + And to my love take flight!" + + Then Count Garein, the noble, said: + "God, danger from us keep! + I'd rather drink the wine so red + Than water in the deep." + + Sir Lambert spake, a sprightly youth: + "May God behold our state! + I'd rather eat good fish, forsooth, + Than be myself a bait." + + Then quoth Sir Gottfried: "Be it so, + I heed not how I fare; + Whatever I must undergo, + My brothers all would share." + + But at the helm King Charles sat by, + And never said a word, + And steered the ship with steadfast eye + Till no more tempest stirred. + + * * * * * + + FREE ART[28] (1812) + + Thou, whom song was given, sing + In the German poets' wood! + When all boughs with music ring-- + Then is life and pleasure good. + + Nay, this art doth not belong + To a small and haughty band; + Scattered are the seeds of song + All about the German land. + + Music set thy passions free + From the heart's confining cage; + Let thy love like murmurs be, + And like thunder-storm thy rage! + + Singest thou not all thy days, + Joy of youth should make thee sing. + Nightingales pour forth their lays + In the blooming months of spring! + + Though in books they hold not fast + What the hour to thee imparts, + Leaves unto the breezes cast, + To be seized by youthful hearts! + + Fare thou well, thou secret lore: + Necromancy, Alchemy! + Formulas shall bind no more, + And our art is poesy. + + Names we deem but empty air; + Spirits we revere alone; + Though we honor masters rare. + Art is free--it is our own! + + Not in haunts of marble chill, + Temples drear where ancients trod-- + Nay, in oaks on woody hill, + Lives and moves the German God. + + * * * * * + + TAILLEFER[29] (1812) + + + Duke William of the Normans spoke unto his servants all: + "Who is it sings so sweetly in the court and in the hall? + Who sings from early morn till the house is still at night + So sweetly that he fills my heart with laughter and delight?" + + "'Tis Taillefer," they answered him, "so joyously that sings + Within the courtyard, as the wheel above the well he swings, + And when the fire upon the hearth he stirs to burn more bright, + And when he rises to his toil or lays him down at night." + + Then spoke the Duke, "In him I trow I have a faithful knave-- + This Taillefer that serves me here, so loyal and so brave; + He turns the wheel and stirs the fire with willing, sturdy arm, + And, best of all, with blithesome song he knows my heart to charm." + + Then out spake lusty Taillefer, "Ah, lord, if I were free, + Far better would I serve thee then, and gladly sing to thee. + How on my stately charger would I serve thee in the field, + How sing before thee cheerily, with clang of sword and shield!" + + The days went by, and Taillefer rode out as rides a knight + Upon a prancing charger borne, a gay and gallant sight; + And from the tower looked down on him Duke William's sister fair, + And softly murmured, "By my troth, a stately knight goes there!" + + When as he rode before the tower, and spied her harkening, + Now sang he like a driving storm, now like a breeze of spring; + She cried, "To hear that wondrous song is of all joys the best-- + The very stones they tremble, and the heart within my breast." + + And now the Duke has called his men and crossed the salt sea-foam; + With gallant knights and vassals bold to England he has come. + And as he sprang from out the ship, he slipped upon the strand, + And "By this token, thus," he cried, "I seize a subject land!" + + And now on Hastings field arrayed, the host for fight prepare; + Before the Duke reins up his horse the valiant Taillefer: + "If I have sung and blown the fire for many a weary year, + And since for other years have borne the knightly shield and spear, + + "If I have sung and served thee well, and praises won from thee, + First as a lowly knave and then a warrior, bold and free, + Today I claim my guerdon just, that all the host may know-- + To ride the foremost to the field, strike first against the foe!" + + So Taillefer rode on before the glittering Norman line + Upon his stately steed, and waved a sword of temper fine; + Above the embattled plain his song rang all the tumult o'er-- + Of Roland's knightly deeds he sang and many a hero more. + + And as the noble song of old with tempest-might swelled out, + The banners waved and knights pressed on with war-cry and with shout; + And every heart among the host throbbed prouder still and higher, + And still through all sang Taillefer, and blew the battle-fire. + + Then forward, lance in rest, against the waiting foe he dashed, + And at the shock an English knight from out the saddle crashed; + Anon he swung his sword and struck a grim and grisly blow, + And on the ground beneath his feet an English knight lay low. + + The Norman host his prowess saw, and followed him full fain; + With joyful shouts and clang of shields the whole field rang again, + And shrill and fast the arrows sped, and swords made merry play-- + Until at last King Harold fell, his stubborn carles gave way. + + The Duke his banner planted high upon the bloody plain, + And pitched his tent a conqueror amid the heaps of slain; + Then with his captains sat at meat, the wine-cup in his hand, + Upon his head the royal crown of all the English land. + + "Come hither, valiant Taillefer, and drink a cup with me! + Full oft thy song has soothed my grief, made merrier my glee; + But all my life I still shall hear the battle-shout that pealed + Above the noise of clashing arms today on Hastings field!" + + * * * * * + + SUABIAN LEGEND[30] (1814) + + + When Emperor Redbeard with his band + Came marching through the Holy Land, + He had to lead, the way to seek, + His noble force o'er mountains bleak. + Of bread there rose a painful need, + Though stones were plentiful indeed, + And many a German rider fine + Forgot the taste of mead and wine. + The horses drooped from meagre fare, + The rider had to hold his mare. + There was a knight from Suabian land + Of noble build and mighty hand; + His little horse was faint and ill, + He dragged it by the bridle still; + His steed he never would forsake, + Though his own life should be at stake. + And so the horseman had to stay + Behind the band a little way. + Then all at once, right in his course, + Pranced fifty Turkish men on horse. + And straight a swarm of arrows flew; + Their spears as well the riders threw. + Our Suabian brave felt no dismay, + And calmly marched along his way. + His shield was stuck with arrows o'er, + He sneered and looked about--no more; + Till one, whom all this pastime bored, + Above him swung a crooked sword. + The German's blood begins to boil, + He aims the Turkish steed to foil, + And off he knocks with hit so neat + The Turkish charger's two fore-feet. + And now that he has felled the horse, + He grips his sword with double force + And swings it on the rider's crown + And splits him to the saddle down; + He hews the saddle into bits, + And e'en the charger's back he splits. + See, falling to the right and left, + Half of a Turk that has been cleft! + The others shudder at the sight + And hie away in frantic flight, + And each one feels, with gruesome dread, + That he is split through trunk and head. + A band of Christians, left behind, + Came down the road, his work to find; + And they admired, one by one, + The deed our hero bold had done. + From these the Emperor heard it all, + And bade his men the Suabian call, + Then spake: "Who taught thee, honored knight, + With hits like those you dealt, to fight?" + Our hero said, without delay + "These hits are just the Suabian way. + Throughout the realm all men admit, + The Suabians always make a hit." + + * * * * * + + THE BLIND KING[31] (1804, 1814) + + + Why stands uncovered that northern host + High on the seaboard there? + Why seeks the old blind king the coast, + With his white, wild-fluttering hair? + He, leaning on his staff the while, + His bitter grief outpours, + Till across the bay the rocky isle + Sounds from its caverned shores. + + "From the dungeon-rock, thou robber, bring + My daughter back again! + Her gentle voice, her harp's sweet string + Soothed an old father's pain. + From the dance along the green shore + Thou hast borne her o'er the wave; + Eternal shame light on thy head; + Mine trembles o'er the grave." + + Forth from his cavern, at the word, + The robber comes, all steeled, + Swings in the air his giant sword, + And strikes his sounding shield. + "A goodly guard attends thee there; + Why suffered they the wrong? + Is there none will be her champion + Of all that mighty throng?" + + Yet from that host there comes no sound; + They stand unmoved as stone; + The blind king seems to gaze around; + Am I all, all alone?" + "Not all alone!" His youthful son + Grasps his right hand so warm-- + "Grant me to meet this vaunting foe! + Heaven's might inspires my arm." + + "O son! it is a giant foe; + There's none will take thy part; + Yet by this hand's warm grasp, I know + Thine is a manly heart. + Here, take the trusty battle-sword-- + 'Twas the old minstrel's prize;-- + If thou art slain, far down the flood + Thy poor old father dies!" + + And hark! a skiff glides swiftly o'er, + With plashing, spooming sound; + The king stands listening on the shore; + 'Tis silent all around-- + Till soon across the bay is borne + The sound of shield and sword, + And battle-cry, and clash, and clang, + And crashing blows, are heard. + + With trembling joy then cried the king: + "Warrior! what mark you? Tell! + 'Twas my good sword; I heard it ring; + I know its tone right well." + "The robber falls; a bloody meed + His daring crime hath won; + Hail to thee, first of heroes! hail! + Thou monarch's worthy son!" + + Again 'tis silent all around; + Listens the king once more; + "I hear across the bay the sound + As of a plashing oar." + Yes, it is they!--They come!--They come-- + Thy son, with spear and shield, + And thy daughter fair, with golden hair, + The sunny-bright Gunild." + + "Welcome!" exclaims the blind old man, + From the rock high o'er the wave; + "Now my old age is blest again; + Honored shall be my grave. + Thou, son, shalt lay the sword I wore + Beside the blind old king. + And thou, Gunilda, free once more, + My funeral song shalt sing." + + * * * * * + + THE MINSTREL'S CURSE[32] (1814) + + + Once in olden times was standing + A castle, high and grand, + Broad glancing in the sunlight, + Far over sea and land. + And round were fragrant gardens, + A rich and blooming crown; + And fountains, playing in them, + In rainbow brilliance shone. + + There a haughty king was seated, + In lands and conquests great; + Pale and awful was his countenance, + As on his throne he sate; + For what he thinks, is terror, + And what he looks, is wrath, + And what he speaks, is torture, + And what he writes, is death. + And 'gainst a marble pillar + He shiver'd it in twain; + And thus his curse he shouted, + Till the castle rang again: + + "Woe, woe, thou haughty castle, + With all thy gorgeous halls! + Sweet string or song be sounded + No more within thy walls. + No, sighs alone, and wailing, + And the coward steps of slaves! + Already round thy towers + The avenging spirit raves! + + "Woe, woe, ye fragrant gardens, + With all your fair May light! + Look on this ghastly countenance, + And wither at the sight! + Let all your flowers perish! + Be all your fountains dry! + Henceforth a horrid wilderness, + Deserted, wasted, lie! + + "Woe, woe, thou wretched murderer, + Thou curse of minstrelsy! + Thy struggles for a bloody fame, + All fruitless shall they be. + Thy name shall be forgotten, + Lost in eternal death, + Dissolving into empty air + Like a dying man's last breath!" + + The old man's curse is utter'd, + And Heaven above hath heard. + Those walls have fallen prostrate + At the minstrel's mighty word. + Of all that vanish'd splendor + Stands but one column tall; + And that, already shatter'd, + Ere another night may fall. + + Around, instead of gardens, + In a desert heathen land, + No tree its shade dispenses, + No fountains cool the sand. + The king's name, it has vanish'd; + His deeds no songs rehearse; + Departed and forgotten-- + This is the minstrel's curse. + + * * * * * + + THE LUCK OF EDENHALL[33] (1834) + + + Of Edenhall the youthful lord + Bids sound the festal trumpets' call; + He rises at the banquet board, + And cries, 'mid the drunken revelers all, + "Now bring me the Luck of Edenhall!" + + The butler hears the words with pain-- + The house's oldest seneschal-- + Takes slow from its silken cloth again + The drinking glass of crystal tall; + They call it the Luck of Edenhall. + + Then said the lord, "This glass to praise, + Fill with red wine from Portugal!" + The graybeard with trembling hand obeys; + A purple light shines over all; + It beams from the Luck of Edenhall. + + Then speaks the lord, and waves it light-- + "This glass of flashing crystal tall + Gave to my sires the Fountain-Sprite; + She wrote in it, 'If this glass doth fall, + Farewell then, O Luck of Edenhall!'" + + "'Twas right a goblet the fate should be + Of the joyous race of Edenhall! + We drink deep draughts right willingly; + And willingly ring, with merry call, + Kling! klang! to the Luck of Edenhall!" + + First rings it deep, and full, and mild, + Like to the song of a nightingale; + Then like the roar of a torrent wild; + Then mutters, at last, like the thunder's fall, + The glorious Luck of Edenhall. + + "For its keeper, takes a race of might + The fragile goblet of crystal tall; + It has lasted longer than is right; + Kling! klang!--with a harder blow than all + We'll try the Luck of Edenhall!" + + As the goblet, ringing, flies apart, + Suddenly cracks the vaulted hall; + And through the rift the flames upstart; + The guests in dust are scattered all + With the breaking Luck of Edenhall! + + In storms the foe with fire and sword! + He in the night had scaled the wall; + Slain by the sword lies the youthful lord, + But holds in his hand the crystal tall, + The shattered Luck of Edenhall. + + On the morrow the butler gropes alone, + The graybeard, in the desert hall; + He seeks his lord's burnt skeleton; + He seeks in the dismal ruin's fall + The shards of the Luck of Edenhall. + + "The stone wall," saith he, "doth fall aside; + Down must the stately columns fall; + Glass is this earth's Luck and Pride; + In atoms shall fall this earthly hall, + One day, like the Luck of Edenhall!" + + * * * * * + + ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD[34] (1859) + + + You came, you went, as angels go, + A fleeting guest within our land. + Whence and where to?--We only know: + Forth from God's hand into God's hand. + + + + +_JOSEPH VON EICHENDORFF_ + + * * * * * + + THE BROKEN RING[35] (1810) + + + Down in yon cool valley + I hear a mill-wheel go: + Alas! my love has left me, + Who once dwelt there below. + + A ring of gold she gave me, + And vowed she would be true; + The vow long since was broken, + The gold ring snapped in two. + + I would I were a minstrel, + To rove the wide world o'er, + And sing afar my measures, + And rove from door to door; + + Or else a soldier, flying + Deep into furious fight, + By silent camp-fires lying + A-field in gloomy night. + + Hear I the mill-wheel going: + I know not what I will; + 'Twere best if I were dying-- + Then all were calm and still. + +[Illustration: JOSEPH VON EICHENDORFF] + + * * * * * + + MORNING PRAYER[36] (1833) + + + O silence, wondrous and profound! + O'er earth doth solitude still reign; + The woods alone incline their heads, + As if the Lord walked o'er the plain. + + I feel new life within me glow; + Where now is my distress and care? + Here in the blush of waking morn, + I blush at yesterday's despair. + + To me, a pilgrim, shall the world, + With all its joy and sorrows, be + But as a bridge that leads, O Lord, + Across the stream of time to Thee. + + And should my song woo worldly gifts, + The base rewards of vanity-- + Dash down my lyre! I'll hold my peace + Before thee to eternity. + + + + +FROM THE LIFE OF A GOOD-FOR-NOTHING (1826) + +BY JOSEPH VON EICHENDORFF TRANSLATED BY MRS. A.L.W. WISTER + +CHAPTER I + + +The wheel of my father's mill was once more turning and whirring +merrily, the melting snow trickled steadily from the roof, the +sparrows chirped and hopped about, as I, taking great delight in the +warm sunshine, sat on the door-step and rubbed my eyes to rid them +of sleep. Then my father made his appearance; he had been busy in the +mill since daybreak, and his nightcap was all awry as he said to me-- + +You Good-for-nothing! There you sit sunning yourself, and stretching +yourself till your bones crack, leaving me to do all the work alone. I +can keep you here no longer. Spring is at hand. Off with you into the +world and earn your own bread!" + +"Well," said I, "all right; if I am a Good-for-nothing, I will go +forth into the world and make my fortune." In fact, I was very glad to +have my father speak thus, for I myself had been thinking of starting +on my travels; the yellow-hammer, which all through the autumn and +winter had been chirping sadly at our window, "Farmer, hire me; +farmer, hire me," was, now that the lovely spring weather had set in, +once more piping cheerily from the old tree, "Farmer, nobody wants +your work." So I went into the house and took down from the wall my +fiddle, on which I could play quite skilfully; my father gave me a +few pieces of money to set me on my way; and I sauntered off along +the village street. I was filled with secret joy as I saw all my old +acquaintances and comrades right and left going to their work digging +and ploughing, just as they had done yesterday and the day before, +and so on, whilst I was roaming out into the wide world. I called +out "Good-by!" to the poor people on all sides, but no one took much +notice of me. A perpetual Sabbath seemed to reign in my soul, and when +I got out among the fields I took out my dear fiddle and played and +sang, as I walked along the country road-- + + "The favored ones, the loved of Heaven, + God sends to roam the world at will; + His wonders to their gaze are given + By field and forest, stream and hill. + + "The dullards who at home are staying + Are not refreshed by morning's ray; + They grovel, earth-born calls obeying, + And petty cares beset their day. + + "The little brooks o'er rocks are springing, + The lark's gay carol fills the air; + Why should not I with them be singing + A joyous anthem free from care? + + "I wander on, in God confiding, + For all are His, wood, field, and fell; + O'er earth and skies He, still presiding, + For me will order all things well." + +As I was looking around, a fine traveling-carriage drove along very +near me; it had probably been just behind me for some time without +my perceiving it, so filled with melody had I been, for it was going +quite slowly, and two elegant ladies had their heads out of the +window, listening. One was especially beautiful, and younger than the +other, but both pleased me extremely. When I stopped singing the elder +ordered the coachman to stop his horses, and accosted me with great +condescension: "Aha, my merry lad, you know how to sing very pretty +songs!" I, nothing loath, replied, "Please Your Grace, I know some +far prettier." "And where are you going so early in the morning?" she +asked. I was ashamed to confess that I did not myself know, and so I +said, boldly, "To Vienna." The two ladies then talked together in a +strange tongue which I did not understand. The younger shook her head +several times, but the other only laughed, and finally called to me, +"Jump up behind; we too are going to Vienna." Who more ready than I! +I made my best bow, and sprang up behind the carriage, the coachman +cracked his whip, and away we bowled along the smooth road so swiftly +that the wind whistled in my ears. + +Behind me vanished my native village with its gardens and +church-tower, before me appeared fresh villages, castles, and +mountains, beneath me on either side the meadows in the tender green +of spring flew past, and above me countless larks were soaring in the +blue air. I was ashamed to shout aloud, but I exulted inwardly, +and shuffled about so on the foot-board behind the carriage that I +well-nigh lost my fiddle from under my arm. But when the sun rose +higher in the sky, while heavy, white, noonday clouds gathered on the +horizon, and the air hung sultry and still above the gently-waving +grain, I could not but remember my village and my father, and our +mill, and how cool and comfortable it was beside the shady mill-pool, +and how far, far away from me it all was. And the most curious +sensation overcame me; I felt as if I must turn and run back; but I +stuck my fiddle between my coat and my vest, settled myself on the +foot-board, and went to sleep. + +When I opened my eyes again, the carriage was standing beneath tall +linden-trees, on the other side of which a broad flight of steps led +between columns into a magnificent castle. Through the trees beyond +I saw the towers of Vienna. The ladies, it appeared, had left the +carriage, and the horses had been unharnessed. I was startled to find +myself alone, and I hurried into the castle. As I did so I heard some +one at a window above laughing. + +An odd time I had in this castle. First, as soon as I found myself in +the cool, spacious vestibule, some one tapped me on the shoulder with +a stick. I turned quickly about, and there stood a tall gentleman in +state apparel, with a broad bandolier of silk and gold crossing his +breast from his shoulder to his hip, a staff in his hand, gilded at +the top, and an extraordinarily large Roman nose; he strutted up to +me, swelling like a ruled-up turkey-cock, and asked me what I wanted +there. I was taken entirely aback, and in my confusion was unable +to utter a word. Several servants passed, going up and down the +staircase; they said nothing, but eyed me superciliously. Then +a lady's-maid appeared; she came up to me, declared that I was a +charming young fellow, and that her mistress had sent to ask me if +I did not want a place as gardener's boy. I put my hand in my +pocket--the few coins I had possessed were gone. They must have been +jerked out by my shuffling on the foot-board behind the carriage. I +had nothing to depend upon save my skill with the fiddle, for which +the gentleman with the staff, as he informed me in passing, would not +give a farthing. Therefore, in my distress, I said "yes" to the maid, +keeping my eyes fixed the while upon the portentous figure pacing +the hall to and fro like the pendulum of a clock in a church-tower, +appearing from the background with imposing majesty and with unfailing +regularity. At last a gardener came, muttering something about boors +and vagabonds, and led me off to the garden, preaching me a long +sermon on the way about my being diligent and industrious and never +loitering about the world any more, and how, if I would give up all my +idle and foolish ways, I might come to some good in the end. There was +a great deal of exhortation in this strain, very good and useful, but +I have since forgotten it nearly all. In fact, I really hardly know +how it all came about; I went on saying "yes" to everything, and I +felt like a bird with its wings clipped. But, thank God, in the end I +was earning my living! + +I found life delightful in that garden. I had a hot dinner every day +and plenty of it, and more money than I needed for my glass of wine, +only, unfortunately, I had quite a deal to do. The pavilions, and +arbors, and long green walks delighted me, if I could only have +sauntered about and talked pleasantly like the gentlemen and ladies +who came there every day. Whenever the gardener was away and I was +alone, I took out my short tobacco-pipe, sat down, and thought of all +the beautiful, polite things with which I could have entertained +that lovely young lady who had brought me to the castle, had I been a +cavalier walking beside her. Or on sultry afternoons I lay on my +back on the grass, when all was so quiet that you could hear the bees +humming, and I gazed up at the clouds sailing away toward my native +village, and around me at the waving grass and flowers, and thought of +the lovely lady; and it sometimes chanced that I really saw her in the +distance walking in the garden, with her guitar or a book, tall and +beautiful as an angel, and I was only half conscious whether I were +awake or dreaming. + +Thus, once as I was passing a summer-house on my way to work, I was +singing to myself-- + + "I gaze around me, going + By forest, dale, and lea, + O'er heights where streams are flowing, + My every thought bestowing, + Ah, Lady fair, on thee!"-- + +when, through the half-opened lattice of the cool, dark summer-house +buried amid flowers, I saw the sparkle of a pair of beautiful, +youthful eyes. I was so startled that I could not finish my song, but +passed on to my work without looking round. + +In the evening--it was Saturday, and, in joyous anticipation of the +coming Sunday, I was standing, fiddle in hand, at the window of +the gardener's house, still thinking of the sparkling eyes--the +lady's-maid came tripping through the twilight--"The gracious Lady +fair sends you this to drink her health, and a 'Good-Night' besides!" +And in a twinkling she put a flask of wine on the window-sill and +vanished among the flowers and shrubs like a lizard. + +I stood looking at the wonderful flask for a long time, not knowing +what to think. And if before I played the fiddle merrily, I now +played it ten times more so, and I sang the song of the Lady fair all +through, and all the other songs that I knew, until the nightingales +wakened outside and the moon and stars lit up the garden. Ah, that was +a lovely night! + +No cradle-song tells the child's future; a blind hen finds many a +grain of wheat; he laughs best who laughs last; the unexpected often +happens; man proposes, God disposes: thus did I meditate the next day, +sitting in the garden with my pipe, and as I looked down at myself I +seemed to myself to be a downright dunce. Contrary to all my habits +hitherto, I now rose betimes every day, before the gardener and the +other assistants were stirring. It was most beautiful then in the +garden. The flowers, the fountains, the rose-bushes, the whole place, +glittered in the morning sunshine like pure gold and jewels. And in +the avenues of huge beeches it was as quiet, cool, and solemn as +a church, only the little birds fluttered around and pecked in the +gravel paths. In front of the castle, just under the windows, there +was a large bush in full bloom. Thither I used to go in the early +morning, and crouch down beneath the branches where I could watch the +windows, for I had not the courage to appear in the open. Thence I +sometimes saw the Lady fair in a snow-white robe come, still drowsy +and warm, to the open window. She would stand there braiding her +dark-brown hair, gazing abroad over the garden and shrubbery, or she +would tend and water the flowers upon her window-sill, or would rest +her guitar upon her white arm and sing out into the clear air so +wondrously that to this day my heart faints with sadness when one of +her songs recurs to me. And ah, it was all so long ago! + +So my life passed for a week and more. But once--she was standing at +the window and all was quiet around--a confounded fly flew directly +up my nose, and I was seized with an interminable fit of sneezing. +She leaned far out of the window and discovered me cowering in the +shrubbery. I was overcome with mortification and did not go there +again for many a day. + +At last I ventured to return to my post, but the window remained +closed. I hid in the bushes for four, five, six mornings, but she did +not appear. Then I grew tired of my hiding-place and came out boldly, +and every morning promenaded bravely beneath all the windows of the +castle. But the lovely Lady fair was not to be seen. At a window a +little farther on I saw the other lady standing; I had never before +seen her so distinctly. She had a fine rosy face, and was plump, and +as gorgeously attired as a tulip. I always made her a low bow, and she +acknowledged it, and her eyes twinkled very kindly and courteously. +Once only, I thought I saw the Lady fair standing behind the curtain +at her window, peeping out. + +Many days passed and I did not see her, either in the garden or at +the window. The gardener scolded me for laziness; I was out of humor, +tired of myself and of all about me. + +I was lying on the grass one Sunday afternoon, watching the blue +wreaths of smoke from my pipe, and fretting because I had not chosen +some other trade which would not have bored me so day after day. +The other fellows had all gone off to the dance in the neighboring +village. Every one was strolling about in Sunday attire, the houses +were gay, and there was melody in the very air. But I walked off and +sat solitary, like a bittern among the reeds, by a lonely pond in the +garden, rocking myself in a little skiff tied there, while the vesper +bells sounded faintly from the town and the swans glided to and fro on +the placid water. A sadness as of death possessed me. + +On a sudden I heard, in the distance, voices talking gaily, and bursts +of merry laughter. They sounded nearer and nearer, and red and white +kerchiefs and hats and feathers were visible through the shrubbery. A +party of gentlemen and ladies were coming from the castle, across the +meadow, directly toward me, and my two ladies among them. I stood up +and was about to retire, when the elder perceived me. "Aha, you are +just what we want!" she called to me, smiling. "Row us across the +pond to the other side." The ladies cautiously took their seats in +the boat, assisted by the gentlemen, who made quite a parade of their +familiarity with the water. When all the ladies were seated, I pushed +off from the shore. One of the young gentlemen who stood in the prow +began, unperceived, to rock the boat. The ladies looked frightened, +and one or two screamed. The Lady fair, who had a lily in her hand, +and was sitting well in the centre of the skiff, looked down with a +quiet smile into the clear water, touching the surface of the pond now +and then with a lily, her image, amid the reflections of the clouds +and trees, appearing like an angel soaring gently through the deep +blue skies. + +As I was gazing at her, the other of my two ladies, the plump, merry +one, suddenly took it into her head that I must sing as we glided +along. A very elegant young gentleman with an eye-glass, who sat +beside her, instantly turned to her, and, as he kissed her hand, said, +"Thanks for the poetic idea! A folk-song sung by one of the people in +the open air is an Alpine rose, upon the very Alps--the Alpine horns +are nothing but herbaria--the soul of the national consciousness." +But I said I did not know anything fine enough to sing to such great +people. Then the pert lady's-maid, who was beside me with a basket of +cups and bottles, and whom I had not perceived before, said, "He knows +a very pretty little song about a lady fair." "Yes, yes, sing that +one!" the lady exclaimed. I felt hot all over, and the Lady fair +lifted her eyes from the water and gave me a look that went to my very +soul. So I did not hesitate any longer, but took heart and sang with +all my might might-- + + "I gaze around me, going + By forest, dale, and lea, + O'er heights where streams are flowing, + My every thought bestowing, + Ah, Lady fair, on thee! + + "And in my garden, finding + Bright flowers fresh and rare, + While many a wreath I'm binding, + Sweet thoughts therein I'm winding + Of thee, my Lady fair. + + "For me 'twould be too daring + To lay them at her feet. + They'll soon away be wearing, + But love beyond comparing + Is thine, my Lady sweet. + + "In early morning waking, + I toil with ready smile, + And though my heart be breaking, + I'll sing to hide its aching, + And dig my grave the while." + +The boat touched the shore, and all the party got out; many of the +young gentlemen, as I had perceived, had made game of me in whispers +to the ladies while I was singing. The gentleman with the eye-glass +took my hand as he left the boat, and said something to me, I do not +remember what, and the elder of my two ladies gave me a kindly glance. +The Lady fair had never raised her eyes all the time I was singing, +and she went away without a word. As for me, before my song was ended +the tears stood in my eyes; my heart seemed like to burst with shame +and misery. I understood now for the first time how beautiful she +was, and how poor and despised and forsaken I, and when they had all +disappeared behind the bushes I could contain myself no longer, but +threw myself down on the grass and wept bitterly. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +The highroad was close on one side of the castle garden, and separated +from it only by a high wall. A very pretty little toll-house with a +red-tiled roof stood near, with a gay little flower-garden inclosed by +a picket-fence behind it. A breach in the wall connected this garden +with the most secluded and shady part of the castle garden itself. The +toll-gate keeper who occupied the cottage died suddenly, and early one +morning, when I was still sound asleep, the Secretary from the castle +waked me in a great hurry and bade me come immediately to the +Bailiff. I dressed myself as quickly as I could and followed the brisk +Secretary, who, as we went, plucked a flower here and there and stuck +it into his button-hole, made scientific lunges in the air with his +cane, and talked steadily to me all the while, although my eyes and +ears were so filled with sleep that I could not understand anything +he said. When we reached the office, where as yet it was hardly light, +the Bailiff, behind a huge inkstand and piles of books and papers, +looked at me from out of his huge wig like an owl from out its nest, +and began: "What's your name? Where do you come from? Can you read, +write, and cipher?" And when I assented, he went on, "Well, her +Grace, in consideration of your good manners and extraordinary merit, +appoints you to the vacant post of Receiver of Toll." I hurriedly +passed in mental review the conduct and manners that had hitherto +distinguished me, and was forced to admit that the Bailiff was right. +And so, before I knew it, I was Receiver of Toll. I took possession of +my dwelling, and was soon comfortably established there. The deceased +toll-gate keeper had left behind him for his successor various +articles, which I appropriated, among others a magnificent scarlet +dressing-gown dotted with yellow, a pair of green slippers, a tasseled +nightcap, and several long-stemmed pipes. I had often wished for +these things at home, where I used to see our village pastor thus +comfortably provided. All day long, therefore--I had nothing else to +do--I sat on the bench before my house in dressing-gown and nightcap, +smoking the longest pipe from the late toll-gate keeper's collection, +and looking at the people walking, driving, and riding on the +high-road. I only wished that some of the folks from our village, who +had always said that I never would be worth anything, might happen to +pass by and see me thus. The dressing-gown became my complexion, and +suited me extremely well. So I sat there and pondered many things--the +difficulty of all beginnings, the great advantages of an easier mode +of existence, for example--and privately resolved to give up travel +for the future, save money like other people, and in time do something +really great in the world. Meanwhile, with all my resolves, anxieties, +and occupations, I in no wise forgot the Lady fair. + +I dug up and threw out of my little garden all the potatoes and +other vegetables that I found there, and planted it instead with the +choicest flowers, which proceeding caused the Porter from the castle +with the big Roman nose--who since I had been made Receiver often came +to see me, and had become my intimate friend--to eye me askance as a +person crazed by sudden good fortune. But that did not deter me. For +from my little garden I could often hear feminine voices not far off +in the castle garden, and among them I thought I could distinguish +the voice of my Lady fair, although, because of the thick shrubbery, +I could see nobody. And so every day I plucked a nosegay of my finest +flowers, and when it was dark in the evening, I climbed over the wall +and laid it upon a marble table in an arbor near by, and every time +that I brought a fresh nosegay the old one was gone from the table. + +One evening all the castle inmates were away hunting; the sun was just +setting, flooding the landscape with flame and color, the Danube wound +toward the horizon like a band of gold and fire, and the vine-dressers +on all the hills throughout the country were glad and gay. I was +sitting with the Porter on the bench before my cottage, enjoying the +mild air and the gradual fading to twilight of the brilliant day. +Suddenly the horns of the returning hunting-party sounded on the +air; the notes were tossed from hill to hill by the echoes. My soul +delighted in it all, and I sprang up and exclaimed, in an intoxication +of joy, "That is what I ought to follow in life, the huntsman's noble +calling!" But the Porter quietly knocked the ashes out of his pipe and +said, "You only think so; I've tried it. You hardly earn the shoes you +wear out, and you're never without a cough or a cold from perpetually +getting your feet wet." I cannot tell how it was, but upon hearing him +speak thus, I was seized with such a fit of foolish rage that I fairly +trembled. On a sudden the entire fellow, with his bedizened coat, his +big feet, his snuff, his big nose, and everything about him, became +odious to me. Quite beside myself, I seized him by the breast of his +coat and said, "Home with you, Porter, on the instant, or I'll send +you there in a way you won't like!" At these words the Porter was +more than ever convinced that I was crazy. He gazed at me with evident +fear, extricated himself from my grasp, and went without a word, +looking reproachfully back at me, and striding toward the castle, +where he reported me as stark, staring mad. + +But after all I burst into a hearty laugh, glad in fact to be rid of +the pompous fellow, for it was just the hour when I was wont to carry +my nosegay to the arbor. I clambered over the wall, and was just about +to place the flowers on the marble table, when I heard the sound of a +horse's hoofs at some distance. There was no time for escape; my Lady +fair was riding slowly along the avenue in a green hunting-habit, +apparently lost in thought. All that I had read in an old book of my +father's about the beautiful Magelona came into my head--how she used +to appear among the tall forest-trees, when horns were echoing and +evening shadows were flitting through the glades. I could not +stir from the spot. She started when she perceived me and paused +involuntarily. I was as if intoxicated with intense joy, dread, and +the throbbing of my heart, and when I saw that she actually wore at +her breast the flowers I had left yesterday, I could no longer keep +silent, but said in a rapture, "Fairest Lady fair, accept these +flowers too, and all the flowers in my garden, and everything I have! +Ah, if I could only brave some danger for you!" At first she had +looked at me so gravely, almost angrily, that I shivered, but then +she cast down her eyes, and did not lift them while I was speaking. At +that moment voices and the tramp of horses were heard in the distance. +She snatched the flowers from my hand, and without saying a word, +swiftly vanished at the end of the avenue. + +After this evening I had neither rest nor peace. I felt continually, +as I had always felt when spring was at hand, restless and merry, and +as if some great good fortune or something extraordinary were about +to befall me. My wretched accounts in especial never would come right, +and when the sunshine, playing among the chestnut boughs before my +window, cast golden-green gleams upon my figures, illuminating "Bro't +over" and "Total," my addition grew sometimes so confused that I +actually could not count three. The figure "eight" always looked to +me like my stout, tightly-laced lady with the gay head-dress, and +the provoking "seven" like a finger-post pointing the wrong way, or a +gallows. The "nine" was the queerest, suddenly, before I knew what it +was about, standing on its head to look like "six," whilst "two" would +turn into a pert interrogation-point, as if to ask me, "What in the +world is to become of you, you poor zero? Without the others, the +slender 'one' and all the rest, you never can come to anything!" + +I had no longer any ease in sitting before my door. I took out a stool +to make myself more comfortable, and put my feet upon it; I patched up +an old parasol, and held it over me like a Chinese pleasure-dome. But +all would not do. As I sat smoking and speculating, my legs seemed +to stretch to twice their size from weariness, and my nose lengthened +visibly as I looked down at it for hours. And when sometimes, before +daybreak, an express drove up, and I went out, half asleep, into the +cool air, and a pretty face, but dimly seen in the dawning except for +its sparkling eyes, looked out at me from the coach window and kindly +bade me good-morning, while from the villages around the cock's clear +crow echoed across the fields of gently-waving grain, and an early +lark, high in the skies among the flushes of morning, soared here and +there, and the Postilion wound his horn and blew, and blew--as the +coach drove off, I would stand looking after it, feeling as if I could +not but start off with it on the instant into the wide, wide world. + +I still took my flowers every day, when the sun had set, to the marble +table in the dim arbor. But since that evening all had been over. Not +a soul took any notice of them, and when I went to look after them +early the next morning, there they lay as I had left them, gazing +sadly at me with their heads hanging, and the dew-drops glistening +upon their fading petals as if they were weeping. This distressed me, +and I plucked no more flowers. I let the weeds grow in my garden as +they pleased, and the flowers stayed on their stalks until the wind +blew them away. Within me there were the same desolation and neglect. + +In this critical state of affairs it happened once that, as I was +leaning out of my window gazing dully into vacancy, the lady's-maid +from the castle came tripping across the road. When she saw me she +came and stood just outside the window. "His Grace returned from +his travels yesterday," she remarked, hurriedly. "Indeed!" I said, +surprised, for I had taken no interest in anything for several weeks, +and did not even know that his Grace had been traveling. "Then his +lovely daughter will be very glad." The maid looked at me with a +strange expression of face, so that I began to wonder whether I had +said anything especially stupid. "He knows absolutely nothing!" she +said at last, turning up her little nose. "Well," she resumed, "there +is to be a ball and masquerade this evening at the castle in honor of +his Grace. My lady is to be dressed as a flower-girl--understand, as +a flower-girl. And she has noticed that you have particularly pretty +flowers in your garden." "That's strange," I thought to myself; "there +is hardly a flower to be seen there for the weeds!" But she continued: +"And since my lady needs perfectly fresh flowers for her costume, you +are to bring her some this evening, and wait under the big pear-tree +in the castle garden when it is dark until she comes for the flowers +herself." + +I was completely dazed with joy at this intelligence, and in my +rapture I leaped out of the window and ran after the maid. + +"Ugh, what an ugly dressing-gown!" she exclaimed, when she saw me +with my fluttering robe in the open air. This vexed me, but, not to be +behindhand in gallantry, I capered gaily after her to give her a kiss. +Unluckily, my feet became entangled in my dressing-gown, which was +much too long for me, and I fell flat on the ground. When I had picked +myself up the maid was gone, and I heard her in the distance laughing +fit to kill herself. + +Now I had delightful food for my reflections. After all, she still +remembered me and my flowers! I went into my garden and hastily tore +up all the weeds from the beds, throwing them high above my head into +the sunlit air, as if with the roots I were eradicating all melancholy +and annoyance from my life. Once more the roses were like _her_ lips, +the sky-blue convolvulus was like _her_ eyes, the snowy lily with its +pensive, drooping head was _her_ very image. I put them all tenderly +in a little basket; the evening was calm and lovely, not a speck of +a cloud in the sky. Here and there a star appeared; the murmur of +the Danube was heard afar over the meadows; in the tall trees of the +castle garden countless birds were twittering to one another merrily. +Ah, I was so happy! + +When at last night came I took my basket on my arm and set out for the +large garden. The flowers in the little basket looked so gay, white, +red, blue, and smelled so sweet, that my very heart laughed when I +peeped in at them. + +Filled with joyous thoughts, I walked in the lovely moonlight over the +trim paths strewn with gravel, across the little white bridge, beneath +which the swans were sleeping on the bosom of the water, and past the +pretty arbors and summer-houses. I soon found the big pear-tree; it +was the same under which, while I was gardener's boy, I used to lie on +sultry afternoons. + +All around me here was dark and lonely. A tall aspen quivered and kept +whispering with its silver leaves. The music from the castle was +heard at intervals, and now and then there were voices in the garden; +sometimes they passed quite near me, and then all would be still +again. + +My heart beat fast. I had a strange uncomfortable sensation as if I +were a robber. I stood for a long time stock-still, leaning against +the tree and listening; but when no one appeared I could bear it no +longer. I hung my basket on my arm and clambered up into the pear-tree +to breathe a purer air. + +The music of the dance floated up to me over the tree-tops. I +overlooked the entire garden and gazed directly into the brilliantly +illuminated windows of the castle. Chandeliers glittered there like +galaxies of stars; a multitude of gaily-dressed gentlemen and ladies +wandered and waltzed and whirled about unrecognizable, like the gay +figures of a magic-lantern; at times some of them leaned out of the +windows and looked down into the garden. In front of the castle the +brilliant light gilded the grass, the shrubbery, and the trees, so +that the flowers and the birds seemed to be aroused by it. All around +and below me, however, the garden lay black and still. + +"_She_ is dancing there now," I thought to myself up in the tree," +and has long since forgotten you and your flowers. All are gay; not a +human being cares for you in the least. And thus it is with me, always +and everywhere. Every one has his little nook marked out for him on +this earth, his warm hearth, his cup of coffee, his wife, his glass of +wine in the evening, and is perfectly happy; even the Porter with his +big nose is content. For me there is no place, I seem to be just too +late everywhere; the world has not a bit of need of me." + +As I was philosophizing thus, I suddenly heard something rustle on the +grass below me. Two soft voices were speaking together in a low +tone. In a moment the foliage of the shrubbery was parted, and the +lady's-maid's little face appeared among the leaves, peering about +on all sides. The moonlight sparkled in her saucy eyes as they +peeped out. I held my breath and stared down at her. Before long the +flower-girl did actually appear among the trees, just as the maid had +described her to me yesterday. My heart throbbed as if it would burst. +She had on a mask, and seemed to be gazing around in surprise. Somehow +she did not look to me as slender and graceful as she had been. +At last she reached the tree, and took off her mask. It was the +other--the elder lady! + +How glad I was, when I had recovered from the first shock, that I was +up here in safety! How in the world did she chance to come here? If +the dear, lovely Lady fair should happen to come at this instant +for her flowers, there would be a fine to-do! I could have cried for +vexation at the whole affair. + +Meanwhile the disguised flower-girl beneath me began: "It is so +stifling hot in the ball-room, I had to come out to cool myself in +this lovely open air." Thereupon she fanned herself with her mask +and puffed and blew. In the bright moonlight I could plainly see how +swollen were the cords of her neck; she looked very angry and quite +scarlet in the face. The lady's maid was all the while searching +behind every bush, as if she were looking for a lost pin. + +"I do so need more fresh flowers for my character," the flower-girl +continued. "Where can he be?" The maid went on searching, and kept +chuckling to herself. "What did you say, Rosetta?" the flower-girl +asked, shrewishly. "I say what I always have said," the maid replied, +putting on a very serious, honest face; "the Receiver is a lazy +fellow; of course he is lying behind some bush sound asleep." + +My blood tingled with longing to jump down and defend my reputation, +when on a sudden a burst of music and loud shouts were heard from the +castle. + +The flower-girl could stay no longer. "The people are cheering his +Grace," she said passionately. "Come, we shall be missed!" And she +clapped on her mask in a hurry, and ran in a rage with the maid toward +the castle. The trees and bushes seemed to point after her with long, +derisive fingers, the moonlight danced nimbly up and down over her +stout figure as though over the key-board of a piano, and thus to +the sound of trumpets and kettle-drums she made her exit, like many a +singer whom I have seen upon the stage. + +I, seated above in my tree, was downright bewildered, and gazed +fixedly at the castle; a circle of tall torches upon the steps of the +entrance cast a strange glare upon the glittering windows and deep +into the garden; the assembled servants were to serenade their master. +In the midst of them stood the gorgeous Porter, like a minister of +state, before a music-stand, working away busily at a bassoon. + +Just as I had settled myself to listen to the beautiful serenade, the +folding-doors leading to the balcony above the entrance parted. A tall +gentleman, very handsome and dignified, in uniform and glittering with +orders, stepped out on the balcony, leading by the hand the lovely +young Lady fair, dressed in white like a lily in the night, or like +the moon in the clear skies. + +I could not take my eyes from her, and garden, trees, and fields +disappeared before me, as she stood there tall and slender, so +wondrously illuminated by the torch-light, now speaking with such +grace to the young officer, and now nodding down kindly to the +musicians. The people below were beside themselves with delight, +and at last I too could restrain myself no longer, and joined in the +cheers with all my might. + +But when, soon after, she disappeared from the balcony, one after +another the torches below were extinguished and the music-stands +cleared away, and the garden around was once more dark, and the trees +rustled as before--then it all became clear to me; I saw that it was +really only the aunt who had ordered the flowers of me, that the Lady +fair never thought of me and had been married long ago, and that I +myself was a big fool. + +All this plunged me into an abyss of reflection. I rolled myself round +like a hedgehog on the prickles of my own thoughts. Snatches of music +still reached me now and then from the ball-room--the clouds floated +lonely away above the dim garden. And there I sat, all through +the night, up in the tree, like a night-owl, amid the ruins of my +happiness. + +The cool breeze of morning aroused me at last from my dreamings. I was +startled as I looked about me. The music and dancing had long since +ceased, and everything around the castle and on the lawn, and the +marble steps and columns, all looked quiet, cool, and solemn; the +fountain alone plashed on before the entrance. Here and there in the +boughs near me the birds were awaking, shaking their bright feathers, +and as they stretched their little wings, peering curiously and amazed +at their strange fellow-sleeper. The joyous rays of morning flashed +across my breast and over the garden. + +I stood erect in my tree, and for the first time for a long while +looked far abroad over the country, to where the ships glided down +the Danube among the vineyards, and the high-roads, still deserted, +stretched like bridges across the gleaming landscape and far over the +distant hills and valleys. + +I cannot tell how it was, but all at once my former love of travel +took possession of me, all the old melancholy, and delight, and ardent +expectation. And at the same moment I thought of the Lady fair over in +the castle sleeping among flowers, beneath silken coverlets, with an +angel surely keeping watch beside her bed in the silence of the dawn. +"No!" I cried aloud. "I must go away from here, far, far away--as far +as the sky stretches its blue arch!" + +As I uttered the words I tossed my basket high into the air, so that +it was beautiful to see how the flowers fell among the branches and +lay in gay colors on the green sod below. Then I got down as quickly +as possible, and went through the quiet garden to my dwelling. I +paused many times at spots where I had seen her pass, or where I had +lain in the shade and thought of her. + +In and about my cottage all was just as I had left it the day before. +The garden was torn up and laid waste, the big account-book lay +open on the table in my room, my fiddle, which I had almost clean +forgotten, hung dusty on the wall; a ray of morning light glittered +upon the strings. It struck a chord in my heart. "Yes," I said, "come +here, thou faithful instrument! Our kingdom is not of this world!" + +So I took the fiddle from the wall, and leaving behind me the +account-book, dressing-gown, slippers, pipes, and parasol, I walked +out of my cottage, as poor as when I entered it, and down along the +gleaming high-road. + +I looked back often and often; I felt very strange, sad, and yet +merry, like a bird escaping from his cage. And when I had walked some +distance I took out my fiddle and sang-- + + "I wander on, in God confiding, + For all are His, wood, field, and fell; + O'er earth and skies He still presiding, + For me will order all things well." + +The castle, the garden, and the spires of Vienna vanished behind me +in the morning mists; far above me countless larks exulted in the air; +thus, past gay villages and hamlets and over green hills, I wandered +on toward Italy. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Here was a puzzle! It had never occurred to me that I did not know my +way. Not a human being was to be seen in the quiet early morning +whom I could question, and right before me the road divided into many +roads, which went on far, far over the highest mountains, as though to +the very end of the world--so that I actually grew giddy as I looked +along them. + +At last a peasant appeared, going to church I fancy, as it was Sunday, +in an old-fashioned coat with large silver buttons, and swinging a +long malacca cane with a massive silver head, which sparkled from afar +in the sunlight. I immediately asked him very politely, "Can you tell +me which is the road to Italy?" The fellow stood still, stared at me, +thrust out his under lip reflectively, and stared at me again. I began +once more: "To Italy, where oranges grow." "What do I care for your +oranges!" said the peasant, and walked on sturdily. I should have +credited the fellow with more politeness, for he really looked very +fine. + +What was to be done? Turn round and go back to my native village? Why, +the folks would have jeered me, and the boys would have run after me +crying, "Oh, indeed! you're welcome back from 'out in the world.' +How does it look 'out in the world?' Haven't you brought us some +ginger-nuts from 'out in the world?'" The Porter with the High Roman +nose, who certainly was familiar with Universal History, used often to +say to me, "Respected Herr Receiver, Italy is a beautiful country; the +dear God takes care of every one there. You can lie on your back in +the sunshine and raisins drop into your mouth; and if a tarantula +bites you, you dance with the greatest ease, although you never +in your life before learned to dance." "Ay, to Italy! to Italy!" I +shouted with delight, and, heedless of any choice of roads, hurried on +along the first that came. + +After I had gone a little way I saw on the right a most beautiful +orchard, with the morning sun shimmering on the trunks and through the +tree-tops so brilliantly that it looked as if the ground were spread +with golden rugs. As no one was in sight, I clambered over the low +fence and lay down comfortably on the grass under an apple-tree; +all my limbs were still aching from camping out in the tree on the +previous night. From where I lay I could see far abroad over the +country, and as it was Sunday the sound of the church-bells from +the far distance came to me over the quiet fields, and gaily-dressed +peasants were walking across the meadows and along the lanes to +church. I was glad at heart; the birds sang in the tree overhead; +I thought of my father's mill, and of the garden of the lovely Lady +fair, and of how far, far away it all was--until I fell sound asleep. +I dreamed that the Lady fair came walking, or rather slowly flying, +toward me from the lovely landscape to the music of the church-bells, +in long white robes that waved in the rosy morning. Then again +it seemed that we were not in a strange country, but in my native +village, in the deep shade beside the mill. But everything was still +and deserted, as it is when the people are all gone to church and only +the solemn sounds of the organ wafted down through the trees break the +stillness; I was oppressed with melancholy. But the Lady fair was very +kind and gentle, and put her hand in mine and walked along with me, +and sang, amid this solitude, the beautiful song that she used to +sing to her guitar early in the morning at her open window, and in the +placid mill-pool I saw her image, lovelier even than herself, except +that the eyes were wondrous large and looked at me so strangely that +I was almost afraid. Then suddenly the mill-wheel began to turn, at +first slowly, then faster and more noisily; the pool became dark and +troubled, the Lady fair turned very pale, and her robes grew longer +and longer, and fluttered wildly in long strips like pennons of +mist up toward the skies; the roaring of the mill-wheel sounded ever +louder, and it seemed as though it were the Porter blowing upon his +bassoon, so that I waked up with my heart throbbing violently. + +In fact, a breeze had arisen, which was gently stirring the leaves of +the apple-tree above me; but the noise and roaring came neither from +the mill nor from the Porter's bassoon, but from the same peasant who +had before refused to show me the way to Italy. He had taken off +his Sunday coat and put on a white smock-frock. "Oho!" he said, as I +rubbed my sleepy eyes, "do you want to pick your oranges here, that +you trample down all my grass instead of going to church, you lazy +lout, you?" I was vexed that the boor should have waked me, and I +started up and cried, "Hold your tongue! I have been a better gardener +than you will ever be, and a Receiver, and if you had been driving to +town, you would have had to take off your dirty cap to me, sitting at +my door in my yellow-dotted, red dressing-gown--" But the fellow was +nothing daunted, and, putting his arms akimbo, merely asked, "What do +you want here? eh! eh!" I saw that he was a short, stubbed, bow-legged +fellow, with protruding goggle-eyes, and a red, rather crooked nose. +And when he went on saying nothing but "Eh! eh!" and kept advancing +toward me step by step, I was suddenly seized with so curious a +sensation of disgust that I hastily jumped to my feet, leaped over the +fence, and, without looking round, ran across country until my fiddle +in my pocket twanged again. + +When at last I stopped to take breath, the orchard and the whole +valley were out of sight and I was in a beautiful forest. But I took +little note of it, for I was downright provoked at the peasant's +impertinence, and I fumed for a long time, to myself. I walked on +quickly, going farther and farther from the high-road and in among the +mountains. The plank-roadway which I had been following ceased, and +before me was only a narrow, unfrequented foot-path. Not a soul was +to be seen anywhere, and no sound was to be heard. But it was very +pleasant walking; the trees rustled and the birds sang sweetly. I +resigned myself to the guidance of heaven, and, taking out my violin, +played all my favorite airs. Very joyous they sounded in the lonely +forest. + +I grew tired of playing after a while, for I stumbled every minute +over the tiresome roots of the trees, and I began to grow very hungry, +while the wood seemed endless. Thus I wandered for the entire day, +until the sun's rays came aslant through the trunks of the trees, when +at last I emerged on a little grassy vale shut in by the mountains and +gay with red and yellow flowers, above which myriads of butterflies +were fluttering in the golden light of the setting sun. It was as +secluded here as though the world had been hundreds of miles away. The +crickets chirped, and a shepherd lad lying among the tall grasses blew +so melancholy an air upon his horn that it was enough to break one's +heart. "Yes," thought I to myself, "who has as happy a lot as a lazy +lout! Some of us, though, have to wander about among strangers, and be +always on the go." As a lovely, clear stream separated me from him, +I called to him to ask where the nearest village was. But he did not +disturb himself to reply--only stretched his head a little out of the +grass, pointed with his horn to the opposite wood, and coolly resumed +his piping. + +I marched on briskly, for twilight was at hand. The birds, which had +made a great clatter while the sun was disappearing on the horizon, +suddenly fell silent, and I began to feel almost afraid, so solemn +was the perpetual rustling of the lonely forest. At last I heard dogs +barking in the distance. I walked more quickly, the forest grew less +and less dense, and in a little while I saw through the last trees a +beautiful village-green, where a crowd of children were frolicking, +and capering around a huge linden in the centre. Opposite me was an +inn, and at a table before it were seated some peasants playing cards +and smoking. On one side a number of lads and lasses were gathered +in a group, the girls with their arms rolled in their aprons, and all +gossiping together in the cool of the evening. + +I took very little time for consideration, but, drawing my fiddle from +my pocket, I played a merry waltz as I came out from the forest. The +girls were surprised, and the old folks laughed so that the woods +reechoed with their merriment. But when I reached the linden, and, +leaning my back against it, went on playing gay waltzes, a whisper +went round among the groups of young people to the right and left; the +lads laid aside their pipes, each put his arm around his lass's waist, +and in the twinkling of an eye the young folk were all waltzing around +me; the dogs barked, skirts and coat-tails fluttered, and the children +stood around me in a circle gazing curiously into my face and at my +briskly-moving fingers. + +When the first waltz was ended, it was easy to see how good music +loosens the limbs. The peasant lads, who had before been restlessly +shuffling about on the benches, with their pipes in their mouths and +their legs stretched out stiffly in front of them, were positively +transformed, and, with their gay handkerchiefs hanging from the +button-holes of their coats, capered about with the lasses so that it +was a pleasure to look at them. One of them, who evidently thought +a deal of himself, fumbled in his waistcoat-pocket for a long while, +that the others might see him, and finally brought out a little silver +coin, which he tried to put into my hand. It irritated me, although I +had not a stiver in my pocket. I told him to keep his pennies, I was +playing only for joy, because I was glad to be among people once more. +Soon afterward, however, a pretty girl came up to me with a great +tankard of wine. "Musicians are thirsty folk," she said, with a laugh +that displayed her pearls of teeth gleaming so temptingly between her +red lips that I should have liked to kiss her then and there. She put +the tankard to her charming mouth, and her eyes sparkled at me over +its rim; she then handed it to me; I drained it to the bottom, and +played afresh, till all were spinning merrily about me once more. + +By and by the old peasants finished their game, and the young people +grew tired and separated, so that gradually all was quiet and deserted +in front of the inn. The girl who had brought me the wine also walked +toward the village, but she went very slowly, and looked around from +time to time as if she had forgotten something. At last she stopped +and seemed to search for it on the ground, but as she stooped I saw +her glance toward me from under her arm. I had learned polite manners +at the castle, so I sprang toward her and said, "Have you lost +anything, my pretty ma'amselle?" She blushed crimson. "Ah, no," she +said; "it was only a rose; will you have it?" I thanked her, and stuck +the rose in my button-hole. She looked very kindly at me, and said, +"You play beautifully." "Yes," I replied, "it is a gift from God." +"Musicians are very rare in the country about here," she began again, +then stammered, and cast down her eyes. "You might earn a deal of +money here. My father plays the fiddle a little, and likes to hear +about foreign countries--and my father is very rich." Then she +laughed, and said, "If you only would not waggle your head so, when +you play." "My dearest girl," I said, "do not blush so--and as for the +tremoloso motion of the head, we can't help it, great musicians all do +it." "Oh, indeed!" rejoined the girl. She was about to say more, when +a terrible racket arose in the inn; the front door was opened with a +bang, and a tall, lean fellow was shot out of it like a ramrod, after +which it was slammed to behind him. + +At the first sound the girl ran off like a deer and vanished in the +darkness. The man picked himself up and began to rave against the +inn with such volubility that it was a wonder to hear him. "What!" he +yelled, "I drunk? I not pay the chalk-marks on your smoky door? Rub +them out! rub them out! Did I not shave you yesterday over a ladle, +and cut you just under the nose so that you bit the ladle in two? +Shaving takes off one mark; ladle, another mark; court-plaster on your +nose, another. How many more of your dirty marks do you want to have +paid? But all right--all right. I'll let the whole village, the whole +world go unshaved. Wear your beards, for all I care, till they are so +long that at the judgment-day the Almighty will not know whether you +are Jews or Christians. Yes, hang yourselves with your beards, shaggy +bears that you are!" Here he burst into tears and, in a maudlin, +falsetto voice, sobbed out, "Am I to drink water like a wretched fish? +Is that loving your neighbor? Am I not a man and a skilled surgeon? +Ah, I am beside myself today; my heart is full of pity, and of love +for my fellow-creatures." And then, finding that all was quiet in the +house, he began to walk away. When he saw me, he came plunging toward +me with outstretched arms. I thought the fellow was about to embrace +me, and sprang aside, letting him stumble on in the darkness, where I +heard him discoursing to himself for some time. + +All sorts of fancies filled my brain. The girl who had given me the +rose was young, pretty, and rich. I could make my fortune before one +could turn round. And sheep and pigs, turkeys, and fat geese stuffed +with apples--verily, I seemed to see the Porter strutting up to me: +"Seize your luck, Receiver, seize your luck! 'Marry young, you're +never wrong;' take home your bride, live in the country, and live +well." Plunged in these philosophical reflections, I sat me down on +a stone, for, since I had no money, I did not venture to knock at +the inn. The moon shone brilliantly, the forests on the mountain-side +murmured in the still night; now and then a dog barked in the village +which lay farther down the valley, buried, as it were, beneath foliage +and moonlight. I gazed up at the heavens, where a few clouds were +sailing slowly and now and then a falling star shot down from the +zenith. Thus this same moon, thought I, is shining down upon my +father's mill and upon his Grace's castle. Everything there is quiet +by this time, the Lady fair is asleep, and the fountains and leaves in +the garden are whispering just as they used to whisper, all the same +whether I am there, or here, or dead. And the world seemed to me so +terribly big, and I so utterly alone in it, that I could have wept +from the very depths of my heart. + +While I was thus sitting there, suddenly I heard the sound of horses' +hoofs in the forest. I held my breath and listened as the sound +came nearer and nearer, until I could hear the horses snorting. Soon +afterward two horsemen appeared under the trees, but paused at the +edge of the woods, and talked together in low, very eager tones, as +I could see by the moving shadows which were thrown across the +bright village-green, and by their long dark arms pointing in various +directions. How often at home, when my mother, now dead, had told me +of savage forests and fierce robbers, had I privately longed to be a +part of such a story! I was well paid now for my silly, rash longings. +I reached up the linden-tree, beneath which I was sitting, as high +as I could, unobserved, until I clasped the lowest branch, and then I +swung myself up. But just as I had got my body half across the branch, +and was about to drag my legs up after it, one of the horsemen trotted +briskly across the green toward me. I shut my eyes tight amid the +thick foliage, and did not stir. "Who is there?" a voice called +directly under me. "Nobody!" I yelled in terror at being detected, +although I could not but laugh to myself at the thought of how the +rogues would look when they should turn my empty pockets inside out. +"Aha!" said the robber, "whose are these legs, then, hanging down +here?" There was no help for it. "They are," I replied, "only a couple +of legs of a poor, lost musician." And I hastily let myself drop, for +I was ashamed to hang there any longer like a broken fork. + +The rider's horse shied when I dropped so suddenly from the tree. He +patted the animal's neck, and said, laughing, "Well, we too are lost, +so we are comrades; perhaps you can help us to find the road to B. You +shall be no loser by it." I assured him that I knew nothing about the +road to B., and said that I would ask in the inn, or would conduct +them to the village. But the man would not listen to reason; he +drew from his girdle a pistol, the barrel of which glittered in the +moonlight. "My dear fellow," he said in a very friendly tone, as he +wiped off the glittering barrel and then ran his eye along it--"my +dear fellow, you will have the kindness to go yourself before us to +B." + +Verily, I was in a scrape. If I chanced to hit the right road, I +should certainly get into the midst of the robber band and be beaten +because I had no money; if I did not find the road, I should be beaten +of course. I wasted very little thought upon the matter, but took +the first road at hand, the one past the inn which led away from +the village. The horseman galloped back to his companion, and both +followed me slowly at some distance. Thus we wandered on foolishly +enough at hap-hazard through the moonlit night. The road led through +forests on the side of a mountain. Sometimes we could see, above the +tops of the pines stirring darkly beneath us, far abroad into the +deep, silent valleys; now and then a nightingale burst into song; the +dogs bayed in the distant villages. A brook babbled ceaselessly from +the depths below us, and here and there glistened in the moonlight. +The hush was disturbed by the monotonous tramp of the horses and by +the stir and movement of their riders, who talked together incessantly +in a foreign tongue, and the bright moonlight contrasted sharply with +the long shadows of the trees, which swept across the figures of the +horsemen, making them appear now black, now light, now dwarfish, and +anon gigantic. My thoughts grew strangely confused, as though in a +dream from which I could not waken, but I marched straight ahead. We +certainly must reach the end of the forest and of the night too, I +thought. + +At last long, rosy streaks flushed the horizon here and there but +faintly, as when one breathes upon a mirror, and a lark began to sing +high up above the peaceful valley. My heart at once grew perfectly +light at the approach of dawn, and all fear left me. The two horsemen +stretched themselves, looked around, and seemed for the first time +to suspect that we might not have taken the right road. They chatted +much, and I could perceive that they were talking of me; it even +seemed to me that one of them began to mistrust me, as though I were +a rogue trying to lead them astray in the forest. This amused me +mightily, for the lighter it grew the greater grew my courage, until +we emerged upon a fine, spacious opening. Here I looked about me quite +savagely, and whistled once or twice through my fingers, as scoundrels +always do when they wish to signal one another. + +"Halt!" exclaimed one of the horsemen, so suddenly that I jumped. When +I looked round I saw that both had alighted and had tied their horses +to a tree. One of them came up to me rapidly, stared me full in the +face, and then burst into a fit of immoderate laughter. I must confess +this senseless merriment irritated me. But he said, "Why, it is +actually the gardener--I should say the Receiver, from the castle!" + +I stared at him in turn, but could not remember who he was; indeed, I +should have had enough to do to recognize all the young gentlemen who +came and went at the castle. He kept up an eternal laughter, however, +declaring, "This is magnificent! You're taking a holiday, I see; +we are just in want of a servant; stay with us and you will have a +perpetual holiday." I was dumbfounded, and said at last that I was +just on my way to visit Italy. "Italy?" the stranger rejoined. "That +is just where we wish to go!" "Ah, if that be so!" I exclaimed, and, +taking out my fiddle, I tuned up so that all the birds in the +wood awaked. The young fellow immediately threw his arm around his +companion, and they waltzed about the meadow like mad. + +Suddenly they stood still. "By heavens," exclaimed one, "I can see the +church-tower of B.! We shall soon be there." He took out his watch and +made it repeat, then shook his head, and made the watch strike again. +"No," he said, "it will not do; we should arrive too early, and that +might be very bad." + +Then they brought out from their saddle-bags cakes, cutlets, and +bottles of wine, spread a gay cloth on the grass, stretched themselves +beside it, and feasted to their hearts' content, sharing all +generously with me, which I greatly enjoyed, seeing that for some days +I had not had over and above enough to eat. "And let me tell you," +one of them said to me--"but you do not know us yet?" I shook my head. +"Then let me tell you. I am the painter Lionardo, and my friend here +is a painter also, called Guido." + +I could see the two painters more clearly in the dawning morning. Herr +Lionardo was tall, brown, and slender, with merry, ardent eyes. The +other was much younger, smaller, and more delicate, dressed in antique +German style, as the Porter called it, with a white collar and bare +throat, about which hung dark brown curls, which he was often obliged +to toss aside from his pretty face. When he had breakfasted, he picked +up my fiddle, which I had laid on the grass beside me, seated himself +upon the fallen trunk of a tree, and strummed the strings. Then he +sang in a voice clear as a wood-robin's, so that it went to my very +heart heart-- + + "When the earliest morning ray + Through the valley finds its way, + Hill and forest fair awaking, + All who can their flight are taking. + + "And the lad who's free from care + Shouts, with cap flung high in air, + 'Song its flight can aye be winging; + Let me, then, be ever singing.'" + +As he sang, the ruddy rays of morning exquisitely illumined his pale +face and dark, love-lit eyes. But I was so tired that the words and +notes of his song mingled and blended strangely in my ears, until at +last I fell sound asleep. + +When, by and by, I began gradually to awaken, I heard, as in a dream, +the two painters talking together beside me, and the birds singing +overhead, while the morning sun shining through my closed eyelids +produced the sensation of looking toward the light through red +curtains. "_Com' e bello_!" I heard some one exclaim close to me. I +opened my eyes, and saw the younger painter bending over me in the +clear morning light, so near that I seemed to see only his large black +eyes between his drooping curls. + +I sprang up hastily, for it was broad day. Herr Lionardo seemed +cross--he had two angry furrows on his brow--and hastily made ready to +move on. But the other painter shook his curls away from his face and +quietly hummed an air to himself as he was bridling his steed, until +at last Lionardo burst into a sudden fit of laughter, picked up a +bottle standing on the grass, and poured the contents into a couple +of glasses. "To our happy arrival!" he exclaimed, as the two clinked +their glasses melodiously. Whereupon Lionardo tossed the empty bottle +high in the air, and it sparkled brilliantly. + +At last they mounted their horses, and I marched on beside them. Just +at our feet lay a valley in measureless extent, into which our road +descended. How clear and fresh and bright and jubilant were all the +sights and sounds around! I was so cool, so happy, that I felt as if I +could have flown from the mountain out into the glorious landscape. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Farewell, mill, and castle, and Porter! We went at such a pace that +the wind nearly blew my hat off. Right and left, villages, towns, and +vineyards flew past in a twinkling; behind me the two painters were +seated in the carriage, before me were four horses and a gorgeous +postilion, while I, seated high up on the box, bounced into the air +from time to time. + +It had happened thus: Arrived at B., while we were as yet in the +outskirts a tall, thin, crusty gentleman in a green plush coat came to +meet us, and, with many obeisances to the two painters, conducted +us into the village, where, beneath the tall linden beside the +post-station, stood a fine carriage with four post-horses. Herr +Lionardo meanwhile insisted that I had outgrown my clothes, and in a +trice he produced another suit from his portmanteau, and I had to put +on a beautiful new dress-coat and vest; very fine to see, but they +were too long and too wide for me, and absolutely fluttered about me. +And I also had a brand-new hat, which shone in the sunlight as if it +had been smeared with fresh butter. Then the crusty stranger gentleman +took the bridles of the two horses which the painters had been riding, +the painters themselves got into the carriage, I mounted upon the +box, and we started, just as the postmaster poked his head out of the +window, in his nightcap. The postilion blew his horn merrily, and we +were off for Italy. + +I led a magnificent existence up there, like a bird in the air, except +that I did not need to fly. I had absolutely nothing to do but to sit +on the box day and night, and bring out food and drink to the carriage +from the inns, for the painters never alighted, and in the daytime +they shut the carriage windows close, as if the sun would have killed +them; only now and then Herr Guido put his pretty head out of the +carriage window and chatted kindly with me, laughing the while at Herr +Lionardo, who always seemed to dislike these talks. Once or twice I +nearly fell into disgrace with my master--the first time because on a +clear starry night I began to play the fiddle up there on my box, and +then because of my sleeping. It _was_ strange! I longed to see all +that I could of Italy, and opened my eyes wide every fifteen minutes. +And yet, after I had gazed steadily about me for a while, the sixteen +trotting feet before me would grow indistinct and dreamy, my eyes +would gradually close, and at last I would fall into a slumber so +profound and invincible that it was impossible to rouse me. Then day +or night, rain or sunshine, Tyrol or Italy, it was all the same; +I swayed first to the right, then to the left, then backward--nay, +sometimes my head nodded down so low that my hat dropped off, and Herr +Guido screamed aloud. + +Thus we had passed, I hardly know how, half through the part of +Italy that they call Lombardy, when on a fine evening we stopped at +a country inn. The post-horses were to be ready for us at the +neighboring station in a couple of hours, so the painters left the +carriage, and were shown into a special apartment, to rest a little, +and to write some letters. I was greatly pleased, and betook myself +to the common room to eat and drink in comfort. Here everything looked +rather disreputable: the maids were going about with their hair in +disorder and their neckerchiefs awry, exposing their sallow skin; +the men-servants were at their supper in blue smock-frocks, around a +circular table, whence they glowered at me from time to time. They all +wore their hair tied behind in a short, thick queue which looked quite +dandified. "Here you are," I said to myself, as I ate my supper, "here +you are in the country from which such queer people used to come to +the Herr Pastor's with mouse-traps, and barometers, and pictures. How +much a man learns who makes up his mind not to stick close to his own +hearth-stone all his life!" + +As I was thus eating my supper and meditating, a little man, who had +been sitting in a dim corner of the room over a glass of wine, darted +out of his nook at me like a spider. He was quite short and crooked, +and he had a big ugly head, with a long hooked nose and sparse red +whiskers, while his powdered hair stood on end all over his head as +if a hurricane had swept over it. He wore an old-fashioned, threadbare +dress-coat, short, plush breeches, and faded silk stockings. He had +once been in Germany, and prided himself upon his knowledge of German. +He sat down by me and asked a hundred questions, perpetually taking +snuff the while--Was I the _servitore_? When did we arrive? Had we +gone to Roma? All this I myself did not know, and really I could not +understand his gibberish. "_Parlez-vous francais_?" I asked him at +last in my distress. He shook his big head, and I was very glad, for +neither did I speak French. But it was of no use, he had taken me in +hand, and went on asking question after question; the more we parleyed +the less we understood each other, until at last we both grew angry, +and I actually thought the Signor would have liked to peck me with his +hooked beak, until the maids, who had been listening to our confusion +of tongues, laughed heartily at us. I put down my knife and fork and +went out of doors; for in this strange land I, with my German tongue, +seemed to have sunk down fathoms deep into the sea, where all sorts +of unfamiliar, crawling creatures were gliding about me, peopling the +solitude and glaring and snapping at me. + +Outside, the summer night was warm and inviting. From the distant +vineyards a laborer's song now and then fell on the ear; there was +lightning low on the horizon, and the landscape seemed to tremble and +whisper in the moonlight. Sometimes I thought I perceived a tall, +dim figure gliding behind the hazel hedge in front of the house and +peeping through the twigs, and then all would be motionless. Suddenly +Herr Guido appeared on the balcony above me. He did not see me, and +began to play with great skill on a zither which he must have found in +the house, singing to it like a nightingale: + + "When the yearning heart is stilled + As in dreams, the forest sighing, + To the listening earth replying, + Tells the thoughts with which 'twas filled: + Days long vanished, soothing sorrow-- + From the Past a light they borrow, + And the heart is gently thrilled." + +I do not know whether he sang any more, for I had stretched myself on +a bench outside the door, and I fell asleep in the warm air from sheer +exhaustion. + +A couple of hours must have passed, when I was roused by the winding +of a post-horn, which sounded merrily in my dreams for a while before +I fully recovered consciousness. At last I sprang up; day was +already dawning on the mountains, and I felt through all my limbs the +freshness of the morning. Then it occurred to me that by this time we +ought to be far on our way. "Aha!" I thought, "now it is my turn to +laugh. How Herr Guido will shake his sleepy, curly head when he hears +me outside!" So I went close beneath the window in the little garden +at the back of the house, stretched my limbs well in the morning air, +and sang merrily-- + + "If the cricket's chirp we hear, + Then be sure the day is near; + When the sun is rising--then + 'Tis good to go to asleep again." + +The window of the room where my masters were stood open, but all +within was quiet; the breeze alone rustled the leaves of the vine that +clambered into the window itself. "What does this mean?" I exclaimed +in surprise, and ran into the house, and through the silent corridors, +to the room. But when I opened the door my heart stood still with +dismay; the room was perfectly empty; not a coat, not a hat, not a +boot, anywhere. Only the zither upon which Herr Guido had played was +hanging on the wall, and on the table in the centre of the room lay +a purse full of money, with a card attached to it. I took it to +the window, and could scarcely trust my eyes when I read, in large +letters, "For the Herr Receiver!" + +But what good could it all do me if I could not find my dear, merry +masters again? I thrust the purse into my deep coat-pocket, where it +plumped down as into a well and almost pulled me over backward. Then I +rushed out, and made a great noise, and waked up all the maids and men +in the house. They could not imagine what was the matter, and thought +I must have gone crazy. But they were not a little amazed when they +saw the empty nest. No one knew anything of my masters. One maid +only had observed--so far as I could make out from her signs and +gesticulations--that Herr Guido, when he was singing on the balcony on +the previous evening, had suddenly screamed aloud, and had then rushed +back into the room to the other gentleman. And once, when she waked +in the night afterward, she had heard the tramp of a horse. She peeped +out of the little window of her room, and saw the crooked Signor, who +had talked so much to me, on a white horse, galloping so furiously +across the field in the moonlight that he bounced high up from his +saddle; and the maid crossed herself, for he looked like a ghost +riding upon a three-legged horse. I did not know what in the world to +do. + +Meanwhile, however, our carriage was standing before the door ready to +start, and the impatient postilion blew his horn fit to burst, for he +had to be at the next station at a certain hour, because everything +had been ordered with great exactitude in the way of changing horses. +I ran once more through all the house, calling the painters, but no +one made answer; the inn-people stared at me, the postilion cursed, +the horses neighed, and, at last, completely dazed, I sprang into the +carriage, the hostler shut the door behind me, the postilion cracked +his whip, and away I went into the wide world. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +We drove on now over hill and dale, day and night. I had no time for +reflection, for wherever we arrived the horses were standing ready +harnessed. I could not talk with the people, and my signs and gestures +were of no use; often just in the midst of a fine dinner the postilion +wound his horn, and I had to drop knife and fork and spring into +the carriage again without knowing whither I was going, or why or +wherefore I was obliged to hurry on at such a rattling pace. + +Otherwise the life was not unpleasant. I reclined upon the soft +cushions first in one corner of the carriage and then in the other, +and took note of countries and people, and when we drove through +the villages I leaned both arms on the window of the carriage, and +acknowledged the courtesy of the men who took off their hats to me, or +else I kissed my hand like an old acquaintance to the young girls at +the windows, who looked surprised, and stared after me as long as the +carriage was in sight. + +But a day came when I was in a terrible fright. I had never counted +the money in the purse left for me, and I had to pay a great deal to +the postmasters and innkeepers everywhere, so that before I was aware, +the purse was empty. When I first discovered this I had an idea of +jumping out of the carriage and making my escape, the next time we +drove through a lonely wood. But I could not make up my mind to give +up the beautiful carriage and leave it all alone, when, if it were +possible, I would gladly have driven in it to the end of the world. + +So I sat buried in thought, not knowing what to do, when all at once +we turned aside from the highway. I shouted to the postilion to ask +him where he was going, but, shout as I would, the fellow never made +any answer save "_Si, si, Signore_!" and on he drove over stock and +stone till I was jolted from side to side in the carriage. + +I was not at all pleased, for the high-road ran through a charming +country, directly toward the setting sun, which was bathing the +landscape in a sea of splendor, while before us, when we turned aside, +lay a dreary hilly region, broken by ravines, where in the gray depths +darkness had already set in. The further we drove, the lonelier and +drearier grew the road. At last the moon emerged from the clouds, and +shone through the trees with a weird, unearthly brilliancy. We had +to go very slowly in the narrow rocky ravines, and the continuous, +monotonous rattle of the carriage reechoed from the walls on either +side, as if we were driving through a vaulted tomb. From the depths +of the forest came a ceaseless murmur of unseen water-falls, and the +owlets hooted in the distance "Come too! come too!" As I looked at the +driver, I noticed for the first time that he wore no uniform and was +not a postilion; he seemed to be growing restless, turning his head +and looking behind him several times. Then he began to drive quicker, +and as I leaned out of the carriage a horseman came out of the +shrubbery on one side of the road, crossed it at a bound directly in +front of our horses, and vanished in the forest on the other side. +I felt bewildered; as far as I could see in the bright moonlight the +rider was that very same crooked little man who had so pecked at me +with his hooked nose in the inn, and mounted, too, on the same +white horse. The driver shook his head and laughed aloud at such +horsemanship, then quickly turned to me and said a great deal very +eagerly, not a word of which did I understand, and then he drove on +more rapidly than ever. + +I was rejoiced soon afterward when I perceived a light glimmering in +the distance. Gradually more and more lights appeared, and at last we +passed several smoke-dried huts clinging like swallows' nests to the +rocks. As the night was warm, the doors stood open, and I could see +into the lighted rooms, and all sorts of ragged figures gathered about +the hearths. We rattled on through the quiet night, along a steep, +stony road leading up a high mountain. Soon lofty trees and hanging +vines arched completely over us, and anon the heavens became visible, +and we could overlook in the depths a distant circle of mountains, +forests, and valleys. On the summit of the mountain stood a grand old +castle, its many towers gleaming in the brilliant moonlight. "God +be thanked!" I exclaimed, greatly relieved, and on the tiptoe of +expectation as to whither I was being conducted. + +A good half-hour passed, however, before we reached the gate-way of +the castle. It led under a broad round tower, the summit of which was +half ruined. The driver cracked his whip three times, so that the old +castle reechoed, and a flock of startled rooks flew forth from every +sheltered nook and careered wildly overhead with hoarse caws. Then the +carriage rolled on through the long, dark gate-way. The iron shoes of +the horses struck fire upon the stone pavement, a large dog barked, +the wheels thundered along the vaulted passage, the rooks' hoarse +cries resounded, and amidst all this horrible hubbub we reached a +small, paved courtyard. + +"A queer post-station this," I thought, when the coach stopped. The +coach door was opened, and a tall old man with a small lantern scanned +me grimly from beneath his bushy eyebrows. He then took my arm and +helped me to alight from the coach as if I had been a person of +quality. Outside, before the castle door, stood a very ugly old woman +in a black camisole and petticoat, with a white apron and a black +cap, the long point of which in front almost touched her nose. A large +bunch of keys hung on one side of her waist, and she held in her hand +an old-fashioned candelabrum with two lighted wax candles. As soon as +she saw me she began to duck and curtsey and to talk volubly. I did +not understand a word, but I scraped innumerable bows, and felt very +uncomfortable. + +Meanwhile, the old man had peered into every corner of the coach with +his lantern, and grumbled and shook his head upon finding no trace +of trunk or luggage. The driver, without asking for the usual +_pour-boire_, proceeded to put up the coach in an old shed on one side +of the courtyard, while the old woman by all sorts of courteous signs +invited me to follow her. She showed the way with her wax candles +through a long, narrow passage, and up a little stone staircase. +As we passed the kitchen a couple of maids poked their heads +inquisitively through the half-open door, and stared at me, as they +winked and nodded furtively to each other, as if they had never in all +their lives seen a man before. At last the old woman opened a door, +and for a moment I was quite dazed; the apartment was spacious and +very handsome, the ceiling decorated with gilded carving and the walls +hung with magnificent tapestry portraying all sorts of figures and +flowers. In the centre of the room stood a table spread with cutlets, +cakes, salad, fruit, wine, and confections, enough to make one's mouth +water. Between the windows hung a tall mirror, reaching from the floor +to the ceiling. + +I must say that all this delighted me. I stretched myself once or +twice, and paced the room to and fro with much dignity, after which I +could not resist looking at myself in such a large mirror. Of a truth +Herr Lionardo's new clothes became me well, and I had caught an ardent +expression of eye from the Italians, but otherwise I was just such +a whey-face as I had been at home, with only a soft down on my upper +lip. + +Meanwhile, the old woman ground away with her toothless jaws, as if +she were actually chewing the end of her long nose. She made me sit +down, chucked me under the chin with her lean fingers, called me +"_poverino_," and leered at me so roguishly with her red eyes that one +corner of her mouth twitched half-way up her cheek as she at last left +the room with a low courtesy. + +I sat down at the table, and a young, pretty girl came in to wait on +me. I made all sorts of gallant speeches to her, which she did not +understand, but watched me curiously while I applied myself to +the viands with evident enjoyment; they were delicious. When I had +finished and rose from table, she took a candle and conducted me to +another room, where were a sofa, a small mirror, and a magnificent bed +with green silk curtains. I inquired by signs whether I were to sleep +there. She nodded assent, but I could not undress while she stood +beside me as if she were rooted to the spot. At last I went and got a +large glass of wine from the table in the next room, drank it off, and +wished her "_Felicissima notte_!" for I had managed to learn that much +Italian. But while I was emptying the glass at a draught she suddenly +burst into a fit of suppressed giggling, grew very red, and went into +the next room, closing the door behind her. "What is there to laugh +at?" thought I in a puzzle. "I believe Italians are all crazy." + +Still in anxiety lest the postilion should begin to blow his horn +again, I listened at the window, but all was quiet outside. "Let him +blow!" I thought, undressed myself, and got into the magnificent bed, +where I seemed to be fairly swimming in milk and honey! The old linden +in the court-yard rustled, a rook now and then flew off the roof, and +at last, completely happy, I fell asleep. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +When I awoke, the beams of early morning were shining on the green +curtains of my bed. At first I could not remember where I was. I +seemed to be still driving in the coach, where I had been dreaming +of a castle in the moonlight, and of an old witch and her pale +daughter. + +I sprang hastily out of bed, dressed myself, and, looking about my +room, perceived in the wainscoting a small door, which I had not seen +the night before. It was ajar; I opened it, and saw a pretty little +room looking very fresh and neat in the early dawn. Some articles of +feminine apparel were lying in disorder over the back of a chair, and +in a bed beside it lay the girl who had waited upon me the evening +before. She was sleeping soundly, her head resting upon her bare white +arm, over which her black curls were straying. "How mortified she +would be if she knew that the door was open!" I said to myself, and +I crept back into my room, bolting the door after me, that the girl +might not be horrified and ashamed when she awoke. + +Not a sound was yet to be heard outside, except from an early robin +that was singing his morning song, perched upon a spray growing out of +the wall beneath my window. "No," said I, "you shall not shame me by +singing all alone your early hymn of praise to God!" I hastily fetched +my fiddle, which I had laid upon the table the night before, and left +the room. Everything in the castle was silent as death, and I was a +long while finding my way through the dim corridors out into the open +air. + +There I found myself in a large garden extending half-way down the +mountain, its broad terraces lying one beneath the other like huge +steps. But the gardening was slovenly. The paths were all grass-grown, +the yew figures were not trimmed, but stretched long noses and caps a +yard high into the air like ghosts, so that really they must have been +quite fearsome at nightfall. Linen was hanging to dry on the broken +marble statues of an unused fountain; here and there in the middle +of the garden cabbages were planted beside some common flowers; +everything was neglected, in disorder, and overgrown with tall weeds, +among which glided varicolored lizards. On all sides through the +gigantic old trees there was a distant, lonely prospect of range after +range of mountains stretching as far as the eye could reach. + +After I had been sauntering about through this wilderness for a while +in the dawn, I descried upon the terrace below me, striding to and fro +with folded arms, a tall, slender, pale youth in a long brown surtout. +He seemed not to perceive me, and shortly seated himself upon a stone +bench, took a book out of his pocket, read very loud from it, as if he +were preaching, looked up to heaven at intervals, and leaned his head +sadly upon his right hand. I looked at him for a long time, but at +last I grew curious to know why he was making such extraordinary +gestures, and I went hastily toward him. He had just heaved a profound +sigh, and sprang up startled as I approached. He was completely +confused, and so was I; we neither of us knew what to say, and we +stood there bowing, until he made his escape, striding rapidly through +the shrubbery. Meanwhile, the sun had arisen over the forest; I +mounted on the stone bench, and scraped my fiddle merrily, so that the +quiet valleys reechoed. The old woman with the bunch of keys, who had +been searching anxiously for me all through the castle to call me to +breakfast, appeared upon the terrace above me, and was surprised that +I could play the fiddle so well. The grim old man from the castle came +too, and was as much amazed, and at last the maids came, and they all +stood up there together agape, while I fingered away, and wielded my +bow in the most artistic manner, playing cadenzas and variations until +I was downright tired. + +The castle was a mighty strange place! No one dreamed of journeying +further. It was no inn or post-station, as I learned from one of the +maids, but belonged to a wealthy count. When I sometimes questioned +the old woman as to the count's name and where he lived, she only +smirked as she had done on the evening of my arrival, and slyly +pinched me and winked at me archly as if she were out of her senses. +If on a warm day I drank a whole bottle of wine, the maids were sure +to giggle when they brought me another; and once when I wanted to +smoke a pipe, and informed them by signs of my desire, they all burst +into a fit of foolish laughter. But most mysterious of all was a +serenade which often, and always upon the darkest nights, sounded +beneath my window. A guitar was played fitfully, soft, low chords +being heard from time to time. Once I imagined I heard some one down +below call up, "Pst! pst!" I sprang out of bed and, putting my head +out of the window, called, "Holla! who's there?" But no answer came; I +only heard the rustling of the shrubbery, as if some one were hastily +running away. The large dog in the court-yard, roused by my shout, +barked a couple of times, and then all was still again. After this the +serenade was heard no more. + +Otherwise my life here was all that mortal could desire. The worthy +Porter knew well what he was talking about when he was wont to declare +that in Italy raisins dropped into one's mouth of themselves. I lived +in the lonely castle like an enchanted prince. Wherever I went the +servants treated me with the greatest respect, though they all knew +that I had not a farthing in my pocket. I had but to say, "Table, +be spread," and lo, I was served with delicious viands, rice, wine, +melons, and Parmesan cheese. I lived on the best, slept in the +magnificent canopied bed, walked in the garden, played my fiddle, and +sometimes helped with the gardening. I often lay for hours in the tall +grass, and the pale youth in his long surtout--he was a student and a +relative of the old woman's, and was spending his vacation here--would +pace around me in a wide circle, muttering from his book like a +conjurer, which was always sure to send me to sleep. Thus day after +day passed, until, what with the good eating and drinking, I began +to grow quite melancholy. My limbs became limp from perpetually doing +nothing, and I felt as if I should fall to pieces from sheer laziness. + +One sultry afternoon, I was sitting in the boughs of a tall tree that +overhung the valley, gently rocking myself above its quiet depths. The +bees were humming among the leaves around me; all else was silent +as the grave; not a human being was to be seen on the mountains, and +below me on the peaceful meadows the cows were resting in the high +grass. But from afar away the note of a post-horn floated across +the wooded heights, at first scarcely audible, then clearer and more +distinct. On the instant my heart reechoed an old song which I had +learned when at home at my father's mill from a traveling journeyman, +and I sang-- + + "Whenever abroad you are straying, + Take with you your dearest one; + While others are laughing and playing, + A stranger is left all alone. + + "And what know these trees, with their sighing, + Of an older, a lovelier day? + Alas, o'er yon blue mountains lying, + Thy home is so far, far away! + + "The stars in their courses I treasure, + My pathway to her they shone o'er; + The nightingale's song gives me pleasure, + It sang nigh my dearest one's door. + + "When starlight and dawn are contending, + I climb to the mountain-tops clear; + Thence gazing, my greeting I'm sending + To Germany, ever most dear." + +It seemed as if the post-horn in the distance would fain accompany +my song. While I was singing, it came nearer and nearer among the +mountains, until at last I heard it in the castle court-yard; I got +down from the tree as quickly as possible, in time to meet the old +woman with an opened packet coming toward me. "Here is something too +for you," she said, and handed me a neat little note. It was without +address; I opened it hastily, and on the instant flushed as red as a +peony, and my heart beat so violently that the old woman observed my +agitation. The note was from--my Lady fair, whose handwriting I had +often seen at the bailiff's. It was short: "All is well once more; all +obstacles are removed. I take a private opportunity to be the first to +write you the good news. Come, hasten back. It is so lonely here, and +I can scarcely bear to live since you left us. Aurelia." + +As I read, my eyes grew dim with rapture, alarm, and ineffable +delight. I was ashamed in presence of the old woman, who began to +smirk and wink odiously, and I flew like an arrow to the loneliest +nook of the garden. There I threw myself on the grass beneath the +hazel-bushes and read the note again, repeating the words by heart, +and then re-reading them over and over, while the sunlight danced +between the leaves upon the letters, so that they were blended and +blurred before my eyes like golden and bright-green and crimson +blossoms. "Is she not married, then?" I thought; "was that young +officer her brother, perhaps, or is he dead, or am I crazy, or--but no +matter!" I exclaimed at last, leaping to my feet. "It is clear enough, +she loves me! she loves me!" + +When I crept out of the shrubbery the sun was near its setting. The +heavens were red, the birds were singing merrily in the woods, +the valleys were full of a golden sheen, but in my heart all was a +thousand times more beautiful and more glad. + +I shouted to them in the castle to serve my supper out in the garden. +The old woman, the grim old man, the maids--I made them all come and +sit at table with me under the trees. I brought out my fiddle and +played, and ate and drank between-whiles. Then they all grew merry; +the old man smoothed the grim wrinkles out of his face, and emptied +glass after glass, the old woman chattered away--heaven knows about +what, and the maids began to dance together on the green-sward. At +last the pale student approached inquisitively, cast a scornful glance +at the party, and was about to pass on with great dignity. But I +sprang up in a twinkling, and, before he knew what I was about, +seized him by his long surtout and waltzed merrily round with him. +He actually began to try to dance after the latest and most approved +fashion, and footed it so nimbly that the moisture stood in beads upon +his forehead, his long coat flew round like a wheel, and he looked +at me so strangely withal, and his eyes rolled so, that I began to be +really afraid of him, and suddenly released him. + +The old woman was very curious to know the contents of the note, +and why I was so very merry of a sudden. But the matter was far too +intricate for me to be able to explain it to her. I merely pointed +to a couple of storks that were sailing through the air far above our +heads, and said that so must I go, far, far away. At this she opened +her bleared eyes wide, and cast a sinister glance first at me and then +at the old man. After that, I noticed as often as I turned away that +they put their heads together and talked eagerly, glancing askance +toward me from time to time. + +This puzzled me. I pondered upon what scheme they could be hatching, +and I grew more quiet. The sun had long set, so I wished them all good +night and betook myself thoughtfully to my bedroom. + +I felt so happy and so restless that for a long while I paced the +apartment to and fro. Outside, the wind was driving black, heavy +clouds high above the castle-tower; the nearest mountain-summit could +be scarcely discerned in the thick darkness. Then I thought I heard +voices in the garden below. I put out my candle and sat down at the +window. The voices seemed to come nearer, speaking in low tones, and +suddenly a long ray of light shot from a small lantern concealed +under the cloak of a dark figure. I instantly recognized the grim old +steward and the old housekeeper. The light flashed in the face of the +old woman, who looked to me more hideous than ever, and upon the blade +of a long knife which she held in her hand. I could plainly see that +both of them were looking up at my window. Then the steward folded his +cloak more closely, and all was dark and silent. + +"What do they want," I thought, "out in the garden, at this hour?" I +shuddered; I could not help recalling all the stories of murders that +I had ever heard--all the tales of witches and robbers who slaughtered +people that they might devour their hearts. Whilst I was filled with +such thoughts, I heard footsteps coming up the stairs softly, then +very softly along the narrow passage directly to my door; and at the +same time I thought I heard voices whispering together. I ran hastily +to the other end of the room and behind a large table, which I could +lift and bang against the door as soon as anything stirred outside. +But in the darkness I upset a chair, which made a tremendous crash. +In an instant all was profound silence outside. I listened behind the +table, staring at the door as if I could pierce it with my eyes, which +felt as if they were starting from my head. When I had kept so quiet +for a while that the buzzing of a fly could have been plainly heard, +I distinguished the sound of a key softly put into the keyhole of my +door on the outside. I was just about to make a demonstration with my +table, when the key was turned slowly three times round in the lock, +and then cautiously withdrawn, after which the footsteps retreated +along the passage and down the staircase. + +I took a long breath. "Oho!" I thought, "they have locked me up that +all may be easy when I am sound asleep." I tried the door, and found +it locked, as was also the other door, behind which the pale maid +slept. This had never been so before since I had been at the castle. + +Here was I imprisoned in a foreign land! The Lady fair undoubtedly was +even now standing at her window and looking across the quiet garden +toward the high-road, to see if I were not coming from the toll-house +with my fiddle. The clouds were scudding across the sky; time was +passing--and I could not get away. Ah, but my heart was sore; I did +not know what to do. And if the leaves rustled outside, or a rat +gnawed behind the wainscot, I fancied I saw the old woman gliding in +by a secret door and creeping softly through the room, with that long +knife in hand. + +As, given over to such fancies, I sat on the side of my bed, I heard, +the first time for a long while, the music beneath my window. At the +first twang of the guitar a ray of light darted into my soul. I opened +the window, and called down softly, that I was awake. "Pst, pst!" was +the answer from below. Without more ado, I thrust the note into my +pocket, took my fiddle, got out of the window, and scrambled down the +ruinous old wall, clinging to the vines growing from the crevices. +One or two crumbling stones gave way, and I began to slide faster and +faster, until at last I came down upon my feet with such a sudden bump +that my teeth rattled in my head. + +Scarcely had I thus reached the garden when I felt myself embraced +with such violence that I screamed aloud. My kind friend, however, +clapped his hand on my mouth, and, taking my arm, led me through the +shrubbery to the open lawn. Here, to my astonishment, I recognized the +tall student, who had a guitar slung around his neck by a broad silk +ribbon. I explained to him as quickly as possible that I wished to +escape from the garden. He seemed perfectly aware of my wishes, and +conducted me by various covert pathways to the lower door in the high +garden wall. But when we reached it, it was fast locked! The student, +however, seemed to be quite prepared for this; he produced a large key +and cautiously unlocked it. + +When we found ourselves in the forest, and I was about to inquire of +him the best road to the nearest town, he suddenly fell upon one knee +before me, raised a hand aloft, and began to curse and to swear in the +most horrible manner. I could not imagine what he wanted; I could +hear frequent repetitions of "_Iddio_" and "_cuore_" and "_amore_" and +"_furore_!" But when he began hobbling close up to me on both knees, +I grew positively terrified, I perceived clearly that he had lost his +wits, and I fled into the depths of the forest without looking back. + +I heard the student behind me shouting like one possessed, and soon +afterward a rough voice from the castle shouting in reply. I was sure +they would pursue me. The road was entirely unknown to me; the night +was dark; I should probably fall into their hands. Therefore I climbed +up into a tall tree to await my opportunity to escape. + +From here I could distinguish one voice after another calling in the +castle. Several links appeared in the garden, and cast a weird lurid +light over the old walls and down the mountain out into the black +night. I commended my soul to the Almighty, for the confused uproar +grew louder and nearer. At last the student, bearing aloft a torch, +ran past my tree below me so fast that the skirt of his surtout flew +out behind him in the wind. After this the tumult gradually retreated +to the other side of the mountain; the voices sounded more and more +distant, and at last the wind alone sighed through the silent forest. +I then descended from my tree and ran breathless down into the valley +and out into the night. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +I hurried on for the rest of the night and the next day, for there was +a din in my ears for a long time, as if all the people from the castle +were after me, shouting, waving torches, and brandishing long knives. +On the way I learned that I was only five or six miles from Rome, +whereat I could have jumped for joy. As a child at home I had heard +wonderful stories of gorgeous Rome, and as I lay on my back in the +grass on Sunday afternoons near the mill, and everything around was so +quiet, I used to picture Rome out of the clouds sailing above me, with +wondrous mountains and abysses, around the blue sea, with golden gates +and lofty gleaming towers, where angels in shining robes were singing. + +The night had come again, and the moon shone brilliantly, when at +last I emerged from the forest upon a hilltop, and saw the city lying +before me in the distance. The sea gleamed afar off, the heavens +glittered with innumerable stars, and beneath them lay the Holy City, +a long strip of mist, like a slumbering lion on the quiet earth, +watched and guarded by mountains around like shadowy giants. + +I soon reached an extensive, lonely heath, where all was gray and +silent as the grave. Here and there a ruined wall was still standing, +or some strangely-gnarled trunk of a tree; now and then night-birds +whirred through the air, and my own shadow glided long and black in +the solitude beside me. They say that a primeval city lies buried +here, and that Frau Venus makes it her abode, and that sometimes the +old pagans rise up from their graves and wander about the heath and +mislead travelers. I cared nothing, however, for such tales, but +walked on steadily, for the city arose before me more and more +distinct and magnificent, and the high castles and gates and golden +domes gleamed wondrously in the moonlight, as if angels in golden +garments were actually standing on the roofs and singing in the quiet +night. + +At last I passed some humble houses, and then through a gorgeous +gate-way into the famous city of Rome. The moon shone bright as day +among the palaces, but the streets were empty, except for some lazy +fellow lying dead asleep on a marble step in the warm night air. +The fountains plashed in the silent squares, and from the gardens +bordering the street the trees added their murmur, and filled the air +with refreshing fragrance. + +As I was sauntering on, not knowing--what with delight, moonlight, and +fragrance--which way to turn, I heard a guitar touched in the depths +of a garden. "Great heavens!" I thought, "the crazy student with his +long surtout has been secretly following me all this time." But in +a moment a lady in the garden began to sing deliciously. I stood +spellbound; it was the voice of the Lady fair! and the selfsame +Italian song which she often used to sing at her open window! + +Then the dear old time recurred so vividly to my mind that I could +have wept bitterly; I saw the quiet garden before the castle in the +early dawn, and thought how happy I had been among the shrubbery +before that stupid fly flew up my nose. I could restrain myself no +longer, but clambered over the gilded ornaments surmounting the grated +gate-way and leaped down into the garden whence the song proceeded. As +I did so I perceived a slender white figure standing in the distance +behind a poplar-tree, looking at me in amazement; but in an instant it +had turned and fled through the dim garden toward the house so quickly +that in the moonlight it seemed to glide. "It was she, herself!" I +exclaimed, and my heart throbbed with delight; I recognized her on the +instant by her pretty little fleet feet. It was unfortunate that in +clambering over the gate I had slightly twisted my ankle, and had to +limp along for a minute or two before I could run after her toward +the house. In the meanwhile the doors and windows had been closed. I +knocked modestly, listened, and then knocked again. I seemed to hear +low laughter and whispering within the house, and once I was almost +sure that a pair of bright eyes peeped between the jalousies in the +moonlight. But finally all was silent. + +"She does not know that it is I," I thought; I took out my fiddle, and +promenaded to and fro on the path before the house and sang the song +of the Lady fair and played over all my songs that I had been wont +to play on lovely summer nights in the castle garden, or on the +bench before the toll-house so that the sound should reach the castle +windows. But it was all of no use; no one stirred in the entire house. +Then I put away my fiddle sadly, and seated myself upon the door-step, +for I was very weary with my long march. The night was warm; the +flower-beds before the house sent forth a delicious fragrance, and a +fountain somewhere in the depths of the garden plashed continuously. I +thought dreamily of azure flowers, of dim, green, lovely, lonely spots +where brooks were rippling and gay birds singing, until at last I fell +sound asleep. + +When I awoke the fresh air of morning was playing over me; the birds +were already awake and twittering in the trees around, as if they were +making game of me. I started up and looked about; the fountain in +the garden was still playing, but nothing was to be heard within the +house. I peeped through the green blinds into one of the rooms, where +I could see a sofa and a large round table covered with gray linen. +The chairs were all standing against the wall in perfect order; +the blinds were down at all the windows, as if the house had been +uninhabited for example, with many a loving thought of my fair, +distant home. + +Meanwhile, the painter had arranged near the window one of the frames +upon which a large piece of paper was stretched. An old hovel was +cleverly drawn in charcoal upon the paper, and within it sat the +Blessed Virgin with a lovely, happy face, upon which there was withal +a shade of melancholy. At her feet in a little nest of straw lay the +Infant Jesus--very lovely, with large serious eyes. Without, upon the +threshold of the open door were kneeling two shepherd lads with staff +and wallet. "You see," said the painter, "I am going to put your head +upon one of these shepherds, and so people will know your face and, +please God, take pleasure in it long after we are both under the sod, +and are ourselves kneeling happily before the Blessed Mother and her +Son like those shepherd lads." Then he seized an old chair, the back +of which came off in his hand as he lifted it. He soon fitted it into +its place again, however, pushed it in front of the frame, and I had +to sit down on it, and turn my face sideways to him. I sat thus +for some minutes perfectly still, without stirring. After a while, +however--I am sure I do not know why--I felt that I could endure it +no longer; every part of me began to twitch, and besides, there hung +directly in front of me a piece of broken looking-glass into which I +could not help glancing perpetually, making all sorts of grimaces from +sheer weariness. The painter, noticing this, burst into a laugh, and +waved his hand to signify that I might leave my chair. My face upon +the paper was already finished, and was so exactly like me that I was +immensely pleased with it. + +The young man went on painting in the cool morning, singing as he +worked, and sometimes looking from the open window at the glorious +landscape. I, in the meantime, spread myself another piece of bread +and butter, and walked up and down the room, looking at the pictures +leaning against the wall. Two of them pleased me especially. "Did you +paint these, too?" I asked the painter. "Not exactly," he replied. +"They are by the famous masters Leonardo da Vinci and Guido Reni; but +you know nothing about them." I was nettled by the conclusion of his +remark. "Oh," I rejoined very composedly, "I know those two masters as +well as I know myself." He opened his eyes at this. "How so?" he +asked hastily. "Well," said I, "I traveled with them day and night, on +horseback, on foot, and driving at a pace that made the wind whistle +in my ears, and I lost them both at an inn, and then traveled post +alone in their coach, which went bumping on two wheels over the rocks, +and--" "Oho! oho!" the painter interrupted me, staring at me as if he +thought me mad. Then he suddenly burst into a fit of laughter. "Ah," +he cried, "now I begin to understand. You traveled with two painters +called Guido and Lionardo?" When I assented, he sprang up and looked +me all over from head to foot. "I verily believe," he said "that +actually--Can you play the violin?" I struck the pocket of my coat so +that my fiddle gave forth a tone, and the painter went on: "There was +a Countess here lately from Germany, who made inquiries in every nook +and corner of Rome for those two painters and a young musician with a +fiddle." "A young Countess from Germany!" I cried in an ecstasy. "Was +the Porter with her?" "Ah, that I do not know," replied the painter. +"I saw her only once or twice at the house of one of her friends, +who does not live in the city. Do you know this face?" he went on, +suddenly lifting the covering from a large picture standing in a +corner. In an instant I felt as we do when in a dark room the shutters +are opened and the rising sun flashes in our eyes. It was--the lovely +Lady fair! She was standing in the garden, in a black velvet gown, +lifting her veil from her face with one hand, and looking abroad +over a distant and beautiful landscape. The longer I looked the more +vividly did it seem to be the castle garden, and the flowers and +boughs waved in the wind, while in the depths of green I could see +my little toll-house, and the high-road, and the Danube, and in the +distance the blue mountains. + +"'Tis she! 'tis she!" I exclaimed at last, and, seizing my hat, I +ran out of the door and down the long staircase, while the astonished +painter called after me to come back toward evening, and we might +perhaps learn something more. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +I ran in a great hurry through the city to present myself immediately +at the house, in the garden of which the Lady fair had been singing +yesterday evening. The streets were full of people; gentlemen and +ladies were enjoying the sunshine and exchanging greetings, elegant +coaches rolled past, and the bells in all the towers were summoning +to mass, making wondrous melody in the air above the heads of the +swarming crowd. I was intoxicated with delight, and with the hubbub, +and ran on in my joy until at last I had no idea where I was. It was +like enchantment; the quiet Square with the fountain, and the garden +and the house, seemed the fabric of a dream, which had vanished in the +clear light of day. + +I could not make any inquiries, for I did not know the name of the +Square. At last it began to be very sultry; the sun's rays darted down +upon the pavement like burning arrows, people crept into their houses, +the blinds everywhere were closed, and the street became once more +silent and dead. I threw myself down in despair in front of a fine, +large house with a balcony resting upon pillars and affording a deep +shade, and surveyed, first the quiet city, which looked absolutely +weird in its sudden noonday solitude, and anon the deep blue, +perfectly cloudless sky, until, tired out, I fell asleep. I dreamed +that I was lying in a lonely green meadow near my native village; a +warm summer rain was falling and glittering in the sun, which was just +setting behind the mountains, and whenever the raindrops fell upon the +grass they turned into beautiful, bright flowers, so that I was soon +covered with them. + +What was my astonishment when I awoke to find a quantity of beautiful, +fresh flowers lying upon me and beside me! I sprang up, but could see +nothing unusual, except that in the house above me there was a window +filled with fragrant shrubs and flowers, behind which a parrot talked +and screamed incessantly. I picked up the scattered flowers, tied them +together, and stuck the nosegay in my button-hole. Then I began to +discourse with the parrot; it amused me to see him get up and down in +his gilded cage with all sorts of odd twists and turns of his head, +and always stepping awkwardly over his own toes. But before I was +aware of it he was scolding me for a _furfante_! Even though it were +only a senseless bird, it irritated me. I scolded him back; we both +got angry; the more I scolded in German, the more he abused me in +Italian. + +Suddenly I heard some one laughing behind me. I turned quickly, and +perceived the painter of the morning. "What nonsense are you at now!" +he said. "I have been waiting for you for half an hour. The air has +grown cooler: we will go to a garden in the suburbs where you will +find several fellow-countrymen, and perhaps learn something further of +the German Countess." + +I was charmed with this proposal, and we set out immediately, the +parrot screaming out abuse of me as I left him. + +After we had walked for a long while outside of the city, ascending by +a narrow, stony pathway an eminence dotted with villas and vineyards, +we reached a small garden very high up, where several young men and +maidens were sitting in the open air about a round table. As soon +as we made our appearance they all signed to us to keep silence, +and pointed toward the other end of the garden, where in a large, +vine-wreathed arbor two beautiful ladies were sitting opposite each +other at a table. One was singing, while the other accompanied her +on the guitar. Between them stood a pleasant-looking gentleman, who +occasionally beat time with a small baton. The setting sun shone +through the vine-leaves, upon the fruits and flasks of wine with which +the table was provided, and upon the plump, white shoulders of the +lady with the guitar. The other one grimaced so that she looked +convulsed, but she sang in Italian in so extremely artistic a manner +that the sinews in her neck stood out like cords. + +Just as she was executing a long cadenza with her eyes turned up to +the skies, while the gentleman beside her held his baton suspended in +the air waiting the moment when she would fall into the beat again, +the garden gate was flung open, and a girl looking very much heated, +and a young man with a pale, delicate face, entered, quarreling +violently. The conductor, startled, stood with raised baton like a +petrified conjurer, although the singer had some time before snapped +short her long trill and had arisen angrily from the table. All the +others turned upon the new arrivals in a rage. "You savage," some one +at the round table called out, "you have interrupted the most perfect +tableau of the description which the late Hoffmann gives on page 347 +of the _Ladies' Annual_ for 1816 of the finest of Hummel's pictures +exhibited in the autumn of 1814 at the Berlin Art-Exposition!" But +it did no good. "What do I care," the young man retorted, "for your +tableau of tableaux! My picture any one may have; my sweetheart I +choose to keep for myself. Oh, you faithless, false-hearted girl!" he +went on to his poor companion, "you fine critic to whom a painter is +nothing but a tradesman, and a poet only a money-maker; you care for +nothing save flirtation! May you fall to the lot, not of an honest +artist, but of an old Duke with a diamond-mine and beplastered with +gold and silver foil! Out with the cursed note that you tried to hide +from me! What have you been scribbling? From whom did it come, or to +whom is it going?" + +But the girl resisted him steadfastly, and the more the other young +men present tried to soothe and pacify the angry lover, the more +he scolded and threatened; particularly as the girl herself did not +restrain her little tongue, until at last she extricated herself, +weeping aloud, from the confused coil, and unexpectedly threw herself +into my arms for protection. I immediately assumed the correct +attitude; but since the rest paid no attention to us, she suddenly +composed her face and whispered hastily in my ear, "You odious +Receiver! it is all on your account. There, stuff the wretched note +into your pocket; you will find out from it where we live. When you +approach the gate, at the appointed hour, turn into the lonely street +on the right hand." + +I was too much amazed to utter a word, for, now that I looked closely, +I recognized her at once; actually it was the pert lady's-maid of +the Castle who had brought me the flask of wine on that lovely Sunday +afternoon. She never looked as pretty as now, when, heated by her +quarrel, she leaned against my shoulder, and her black curls hung down +over my arm. "But, dear ma'amselle," I said in astonishment, "how do +you come--" "For heaven's sake, hush!--be quiet!" she replied, and in +an instant, before I could fairly collect myself, she had left me and +had fled across the garden. + +Meanwhile, the others had almost entirely forgotten the original cause +of the turmoil, and now took a pleasing interest in proving to the +young man that he was intoxicated--a great disgrace for an honorable +painter. The stout, smiling gentleman from the arbor, who was--as I +afterward learned--a great connoisseur and patron of Art, and who was +always ready to lend his aid for the love of Science, had thrown aside +his baton, and showed his broad face, fairly shining with good humor, +in the midst of the thickest confusion, zealously striving to restore +peace and order, but regretting between-whiles the loss of the long +cadenza, and of the beautiful tableau which he had taken such pains to +arrange. + +In my heart all was as serenely bright as on that blissful Sunday when +I had played on my fiddle far into the night at the open window where +stood the flask of wine. Since the rumpus showed no signs of abating, +I hastily pulled out my violin, and without more ado played an Italian +dance, popular among the mountains, which I had learned at the old +castle in the forest. + +All turned their heads to listen. "Bravo! Bravissimo! A delicious +idea!" cried the merry connoisseur of Art, running from one to another +to arrange a rustic _divertissement_, as he called it. He made a +beginning himself by leading out the lady who had played the guitar +in the arbor. Thereupon he began to dance with extraordinary artistic +skill, and describe all sorts of letters on the grass with the points +of his toes, really trilling with his feet, and now and then jumping +pretty high in the air. But he soon had enough of it, for he was +rather corpulent. His jumps grew fewer and clumsier, until at last he +withdrew from the circle, puffing violently, and mopping the moisture +from his forehead with a snowy pocket-handkerchief. Meanwhile, the +young man, who had regained his composure, brought from the inn some +castanets, and before I was aware all were dancing merrily beneath the +trees. The sun had set, but the crimson sky in the west cast bright +reflections among the shadows, and upon the old walls and the +half-buried columns covered with ivy in the depths of the garden, +while below the vineyards we could see the Eternal City bathed in the +evening glow. The dance in the still, clear air was charming, and +my heart within me laughed to see how the slender girls and the +lady's-maid glided among the trees with arms upraised like heathen +wood-nymphs, and kept time to the music with their castanets. At last +I could no longer restrain myself; I joined their ranks, and danced +away merrily, still fiddling all the time. + +I had been hopping about thus for some minutes, not noticing that the +others were beginning to be tired and were dropping out of the +dance, when I felt some one twitch me by the coat-tail. It was the +lady's-maid. "Don't be a fool," she said under her breath; "you are +jumping about like a kid! Read your note, and come soon; the beautiful +young Countess awaits you." She slipped out of the garden in the +twilight and vanished among the vineyards. + +My heart beat fast; I longed to follow her. Fortunately, a waiter was +just lighting the lantern over the garden gate. I took out my note, +which contained a somewhat rudely penciled plan of the gate and the +streets leading to it, just as I had been directed by the lady's-maid, +and in addition the words "Eleven o'clock, at the little door." + +Two long hours to wait! Nevertheless I should have set out +immediately, for I could not stay still, had not the painter, who had +brought me hither, rushed up. "Did you speak to the girl?" he asked. +"I cannot see her now. It was the German Countess's maid." "Hush, +hush!" I replied; "the Countess is still in Rome." "So much the +better," said the painter; "come then and drink her health." And in +spite of all I could say he forced me to return to the garden with +him. + +It looked quite deserted. The merry company had departed, and were +sauntering toward Rome, each lad with his lass upon his arm. We +could hear them talking and laughing among the vineyards in the quiet +evening, until at last their voices died away in the valley below, +lost in the rustling of the trees and the murmur of the stream. I +stayed with my painter and Herr Eckbrecht, which was the name of the +other young painter who had been quarreling with the maid. The moon +shone brilliantly through the tall, dark evergreens; a candle on the +table before us flickered in the breeze and gleamed over the wine +spilled copiously around it. I had to sit down with my companions, and +my painter chatted with me about my native village, my travels, and +my plans for the future. Herr Eckbrecht had seated upon his knee the +pretty girl who had brought us our wine, and was teaching her the +accompaniment of a song on the guitar. Her slender fingers soon picked +out the correct chords, and they sang together an Italian song; +first he sang a verse, and then the girl sang the next; it sounded +deliciously, in the clear, bright evening. When the girl was called +away, Herr Eckbrecht, taking no further notice of us, leaned back on +his bench with his feet on a low stool and played and sang many an +exquisite song. The stars glittered; the landscape turned to silver in +the moonlight; I thought of the Lady fair, and of my far-off home, and +quite forgot the painter at my side. Herr Eckbrecht had occasionally +to tune his instrument; whereat he grew downright angry, and at last +he screwed a string so tight that it broke, whereupon he tossed aside +the guitar and sprang to his feet, noticing for the first time that +my painter had laid his head on his arm upon the table and was fast +asleep. He hastily wrapped around him a white cloak which hung on a +bough near by, then suddenly paused, glanced keenly at my painter, and +then at me several times, then seated himself on the table directly +in front of me, cleared his throat, settled his cravat, and instantly +began to hold forth to me. "Beloved hearer and fellow-countryman," +he said, "since the bottles are nearly empty, and morality is +indisputably the first duty of a citizen when the virtues are on the +wane, I feel myself moved, out of sympathy for a fellow-countryman, +to present for your consideration a few moral axioms. It might be +supposed," he went on, "that you are a mere youth, whereas your coat +has evidently seen its best years; it might be supposed that you had +leaped about like a satyr; nay, some might maintain that you are a +vagabond, because you are out here in the country and play the fiddle; +but I am influenced by no such superficial considerations; I form my +judgment on your delicately chiseled nose; I take you for a strolling +genius." His ambiguous phrases irritated me; I was about to retort +sharply. But he gave me no chance to speak. "Observe," he said, "how +you are puffed up by a modicum of praise. Retire within yourself +and ponder upon your perilous vocation. We geniuses--for I am one +too--care as little for the world as it cares for us; without any ado, +in the seven-league boots which we bring into the world with us, we +stride on directly into eternity. A most lamentable, inconvenient +straddling position this--one leg in the future, where nothing is to +be discerned but the rosy morn and the faces of future children, the +other leg still in the middle of Rome, in the Piazza del Popolo, +where the entire present century would fain seize the opportunity to +advance, and clings to the boot tight enough to pull the leg off! And +then all this restlessness, wine-bibbing, and hunger solely for an +immortal eternity! And look you at my comrade there on the bench, +another genius; his time hangs heavy on his hands here and now, what +under heaven is he to do in eternity? Yes, my highly-esteemed comrade, +you and I and the sun rose early together this morning, and have +pondered and painted all day long, and it was all beautiful--and now +the drowsy night passes its furred sleeve over the world and wipes +out all the colors." He kept on talking for a long while, his hair all +disheveled with dancing and drinking, and his face looking deadly pale +in the moonlight. + +But I was seized with a horror of him and of his wild talk, and when +he turned and addressed the sleeping painter I took advantage of the +opportunity and slipped round the table, without being perceived +by him, and out of the garden. Thence, alone and glad at heart, I +descended through the vine-trellises into the wide moonlit valley. + +The clocks in the city were striking ten. Behind me, in the quiet +night, I still heard an occasional note of the guitar, and at times +the voices of the two painters, going home at last, were audible. I +ran on as quickly as possible, that they might not overtake me. + +At the city-gate I turned into the street on the right hand, and +hurried on with a throbbing heart among the silent houses and gardens. +To my amazement, I suddenly found myself in the very Square with the +fountain, for which, by daylight, I had vainly searched. There stood +the solitary summer-house again in the glorious moonlight, and again +the Lady fair was singing the same Italian song as on the evening +before. In an ecstasy I tried first the low door, then the house door, +and at last the big garden gate, but all were locked. Then first it +occurred to me that eleven had not yet struck. I was irritated by the +slow flight of time, but good manners forbade my climbing over the +garden gate as I had done yesterday. Therefore I paced the lonely +Square to and fro for a while, and at last again seated myself upon +the basin of the fountain and resigned myself to meditation and calm +expectancy. + +The stars twinkled in the skies; the Square was quiet and deserted; I +listened with delight to the song of the Lady fair, as it mingled with +the ripple of the fountain. All at once I perceived a white figure +approach from the opposite side of the Square and go directly +toward the little garden door. I peered eagerly through the dazzling +moonlight--it was the queer painter in his white cloak. He drew forth +a key quickly, unlocked the door, and, before I knew it, was within +the garden. + +I had from the first entertained a special dislike of this painter on +account of his nonsensical talk. But now I fell into a rage with him. +"The low fellow is certainly intoxicated again," I thought; "he has +got the key from the maid, and intends to surprise, and perhaps to +assault, the Lady fair." And I rushed precipitately through the low +door, which was still open, into the garden. + +When I entered, all was quiet and lonely. The folding-doors of the +summer-house were open, and a ray of lamplight issuing from it played +upon the grass and flowers near. Even from a distance I could see the +interior. In a magnificent apartment, hung with green and partially +illumined by a lamp with a white shade, the lovely Lady fair with +her guitar was reclining on a silken lounge, never dreaming, in her +innocence, of the danger without. + +I had not much time, however, to look, for I perceived the white +figure among the shrubbery, stealthily approaching the summer-house +from the opposite side, while the song floating on the air from the +house was so melancholy that it went to my very soul. I therefore took +no long time for reflection, but broke off a stout bough from a tree, +and rushed at the white-cloaked figure, shouting "Murder!" so that the +garden rang again. + +The painter when he beheld me appear thus unexpectedly took to his +heels, screaming frightfully. I screamed louder still. He ran toward +the house, and I after him, and I had very nearly caught him, when I +became entangled in some plaguy trailing vines, and measured my length +upon the ground just before the front door. + +"So it is you, is it, you fool!" I heard some one say above me. "You +frightened me nearly to death." I picked myself up, and when I had +wiped my eyes clear of dust, I saw before me the lady's-maid, from +whose shoulders the white cloak was just falling. "But," said I, in +confusion, "was not the painter here?" "He was," she replied, saucily; +"at least his cloak was, which he put around me when I met him at the +gate, because I was cold." The Lady fair, hearing the noise, sprang +up from the lounge and came out to us. My heart beat as if it would +burst; but what was my dismay when I looked at her, and instead of the +lovely Lady fair saw an entire stranger! + +She was a rather tall, stout lady, with a haughty, hooked nose and +high-arched black eyebrows, very beautiful and imposing. She looked +at me so majestically out of her big, glittering eyes that I was +overwhelmed with awe. So confused was I that I could only make bow +after bow, and at last I attempted to kiss her hand. But she snatched +it from me, and said something in Italian to her maid which I could +not understand. + +Meanwhile, the racket I had made had aroused the entire neighborhood. +Dogs barked, children screamed, and men's voices were heard, +approaching the garden. The Lady gave me another glance, as though she +would have liked to pierce me through and through with fiery bullets, +then turned hastily and went into the room, with a haughty, forced +laugh, slamming the door directly in my face. The maid seized me by +the sleeve and pulled me toward the garden gate. + +"Your stupidity is beyond belief!" she said in the most spiteful way +as we went along. I too was furious. "What the devil did you mean," +I said, "by telling me to come here?" "That's just it!" exclaimed +the girl. "My Countess favored you so--first threw flowers out of +the window to you, sang songs--and _this_ is her reward! But there is +absolutely nothing to be done with you; you positively throw away +your luck." "But," I rejoined, "I meant the Countess from Germany, +the lovely Lady fair--" "Oh," she interrupted me, "she went back to +Germany long ago, with your crazy passion for her. And you'd better +run after her! No doubt she is pining for you, and you can play the +fiddle together and gaze at the moon, only for pity's sake let me see +no more of you!" + +All was confusion about us by this time. People from the next garden +were climbing over the fence armed with clubs, others were searching +among the paths and avenues; frightened faces in nightcaps appeared +here and there in the moonlight; it seemed as if the devil had let +loose upon us a mob of evil spirits. The lady's-maid was nowise +daunted. "There, there goes the thief!" she called out to the people, +pointing across the garden. Then she pushed me out of the gate and +clapped it to behind me. + +There I stood once more beneath the stars in the deserted Square, +as forlorn as when I had seen it first the day before. The fountain, +which had but now seemed to sparkle as merrily in the moonlight as if +cherubs were flitting up and down in it, plashed on, but all joy and +happiness were buried beneath its waters. I determined to turn my back +forever on treacherous Italy, with its crazy painters, its oranges, +and its lady's-maids, and that very hour I wandered forth through the +gate. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + On guard the faithful mountains stand: + "Who wanders o'er the moorland there + From other climes, in morning fair?" + And as I look far o'er the land, + For very glee my heart laughs out. + The joyous "vivats" then I shout; + Watchword and battle-cry shall be: + Austria, for thee! + + The landscape far and near I know; + The birds and brooks and forests fair + Send me their greetings on the air; + The Danube sparkles down below; + St. Stephen's spire far in the blue + Seems waving me a welcome too. + Warm to its core my heart shall be, + Austria, for thee! + + +I was standing on the summit of a mountain whence the first view of +Austria can be had, and I waved my hat joyfully in the air as I sang +the last verse, when suddenly from the forest behind me some fine +instrumental music joined in. I turned quickly and perceived three +young fellows in long blue cloaks, one playing a hautboy, another a +clarionet, and the third, who wore an old three-cornered hat, a horn. +They played an accompaniment to my song, which made the woods ring +again. I, nothing loath, took out my fiddle, and played and sang with +a will. Then one glanced meaningly at the others; he who played the +horn stopped puffing out his cheeks and took the instrument down from +his mouth; at last they all ceased playing, and stared at me. I ended +my performance also, and in turn stared at them. "We supposed," the +cornetist said at last, "from the length of the gentleman's coat that +he was a traveling Englishman, journeying afoot here to admire the +beauties of nature, and we thought we might perhaps earn a trifle for +our own travels. But the gentleman seems to be a musician himself." +"Properly speaking, a Receiver," I interposed, "and I come at present +directly from Rome; but, as it is some time since I received anything, +I have paid my way with my violin." "'Tis not worth much nowadays," +said the cornetist, as he betook himself to the woods again, and +began fanning with his cocked hat a fire that they had kindled there. +"Wind-instruments are more profitable," he continued. "When a noble +family is seated quietly at their mid-day meal, and we unexpectedly +enter their vaulted vestibule and all three begin to blow with all our +might, a servant is sure to come running out to us with money or food, +just to get rid of the noise. But will you not share our repast?" + +The fire in the forest was burning cheerily, the morning was fresh; we +all sat down on the grass, and two of the musicians took from the fire +a can in which there was coffee with milk. Then they brought forth +some bread from the pockets of their cloaks, and each dipped it in the +can and drank turn about with such relish that it was a pleasure to +see them. But the cornetist said, "I never could endure the black +slops," and, after handing me a huge slice of bread and butter, he +brought out a bottle of wine, from which he offered me a draught. I +took a good pull at it, but had to put it down in a hurry with my face +all of a pucker, for it tasted like "old Gooseberry." "The wine of +the country," said the cornetist; "but Italy has probably spoilt your +German taste." + +Then he rummaged in his wallet, and finally produced from among all +sorts of rubbish an old, tattered map of the country, in the corner +of which the emperor in his royal robes was still to be discerned, a +sceptre in his right hand, the orb in his left. This map he carefully +spread out upon the ground; the others drew nearer, and they all +consulted together as to their route. + +"The vacation is nearly over," said one; "let us turn to the left as +soon as we leave Linz, so as to be in Prague in time." "Upon my word!" +exclaimed the cornetist. "Whom do you propose to pipe to on that road? +Nobody there save wood-choppers and charcoal-burners; no culture nor +taste for art--no station where one can spend a night for nothing!" +"Oh, nonsense!" rejoined the other. "I like the peasants best; +they know where the shoe pinches, and are not so particular if +you sometimes blow a false note." "That is, you have no _point +d'honneur_," said the cornetist. "_Odi profanum vulgus et arceo_, as +the Latin has it." "Well, there must be some churches on the road," +struck in the third; "we can stop at the Herr Pastors'." "No, I thank +you," said the cornetist; "they give little money, but long sermons on +the folly of philandering about the world when we might be acquiring +knowledge, and they wax specially eloquent when they sniff in me a +future member of their fraternity. No, no, _clericus clericum non +decimat_. But why be in such a hurry? The Herr Professors are still +at Carlsbad, and are sure not to be precise about the very day." "Nay, +_distinguendum est inter et inter_," replied the other; "_quod licet +Jovi, non licet bovi_!" + +I now saw that they were students from Prague, and I conceived a +great respect for them, especially as they spoke Latin like their +mother-tongue. "Is the gentleman a student?" the cornetist asked me. I +replied modestly that I had always been very fond of study, but that I +had had no money. "That's of no consequence," said the cornetist; "we +have neither money nor rich patrons, but we get along by mother-wit. +_Aurora musis amica_, which means, being interpreted, 'Do not waste +too much time at breakfast.' But when the bells at noon echo from +tower to tower, and from mountain to mountain, and the scholars crowd +out of the old dark lecture-room, and swarm shouting through the +streets, we betake us to the Capuchin monastery, to the father who +presides in the refectory, where there is sure to be a table spread +for us, or if not actually spread, there will be at least a dish +apiece, and we fall to, and perfect ourselves at the same time in our +Latin. So you see we study right ahead from day to day. And when at +last the vacation comes, and all the others depart for their homes, +by coach or on horseback, then we stroll forth through the streets and +through the city gate with our instruments under our cloaks and the +world before us." + +I can't tell how it was, but, while he spoke, the thought that such +learned people were so forlorn and forsaken in this world went to +my very heart. And then I thought of myself, and how I was not much +better off, and the tears came into my eyes. The cornetist eyed me +askance. "I wouldn't give a fig," he went on, "to travel with horses, +and coffee, and freshly-made beds, and nightcaps and boot-jacks, all +ordered beforehand. It's just the delightful part of it that, when +we set out early in the morning, and the birds of passage are winging +their flight high in the air above us, we do not know what chimney is +smoking for us today, and can never foresee what special piece of luck +may befall us before evening." "Yes," said the other, "and wherever we +go, and take out our instruments, people are merry; and when we play +at noon in the vestibule of some great country-house, the maids will +dance before the door, and their masters and mistresses will have the +drawing-room door opened a little, the better to hear the music, and +the clatter of plates and the smell of the roast float out through the +chink, and the young misses at table well-nigh twist their necks off +to see the musicians outside." "That's true!" exclaimed the cornetist, +with sparkling eyes. "Let who will pore over their compendiums, we +choose to study in the vast picture-book which the dear God spreads +open before us! Yes, the gentleman may believe me, we make the right +sort of fellows, who know how to preach to the peasants from the +pulpit and to bang the cushion, so that the clodpoles down below are +ready to burst with humiliation and edification." + +At hearing them talk thus, I became so pleased and interested that I +longed to be a student too. I could have listened forever, for I enjoy +the conversation of men of learning, from whom much is to be gained. +But we had no real, sensible conversation, for one of the students +was worried because the vacation was so nearly at an end. He put his +clarionet together, set up a sheet of music on his knees, and began to +practice a difficult passage from a mass which was to be played when +they returned to Prague. There he sat and fingered and played away, +sometimes so false that it fairly pierced your ears and you couldn't +hear your own voice. + +Suddenly the cornetist exclaimed in his bass tones, "I have it!" and +down came his fist on the map before him. The other stopped practising +for a moment, and looked at him in surprise. "Hark ye," said the +cornetist, "there is a castle not far from Vienna, and in that +castle there is a porter, and that porter is my cousin! Dearest +fellow-students, that must be our goal; we must pay our respects to +my cousin, and he will arrange for our further journey." When I heard +that, I sprang to my feet. "Doesn't he play on the bassoon?" I +cried. "Is he not tall and straight, with a big, prominent nose?" The +cornetist nodded, upon which I embraced him so enthusiastically that +his three-cornered hat fell off, and we all immediately determined +to take the mail-boat on the Danube to the castle of the beautiful +Countess. + +When we arrived at the wharf all was ready for departure. The fat host +before whose inn the ship had lain all night was standing broad and +cheery in his door-way, which he quite filled, shouting out all sorts +of jokes and farewell speeches, while from every window a girl's head +was poked out nodding to the sailors, who were just carrying the last +packages aboard. An elderly gentleman with a gray overcoat and a +black neckerchief, who was also going in the boat, stood on the shore +talking very earnestly with a slim young fellow in leather breeches +and a trig scarlet jacket, mounted on a magnificent chestnut. To my +great surprise, they seemed to glance at times toward me, and to be +speaking of me. At last the old gentleman laughed, and the slim young +fellow cracked his riding-whip and galloped off through the fresh +morning across the shining landscape, with the larks soaring above +him. + +Meanwhile, the students and I had combined our resources. The +captain laughed and shook his head when the cornetist counted out our +passage-money to him in coppers, for which we had diligently searched +every corner of our pockets. I shouted aloud when I once more saw the +Danube before me; we hurried aboard, the captain gave the signal, and +away we glided in the brilliant morning sunshine past the meadows and +the mountains. + +The birds in the woods were singing, and the morning bells echoed afar +from the villages on each side of us, while overhead the larks' clear +notes were now and then heard. On the boat a canary-bird in its cage +trilled and twittered back so that it was a delight to listen to it. + +It belonged to a pretty young girl who was on the boat with us. She +kept the cage close beside her, and under the other arm she had a +small bundle of linen; she sat by herself, quite still, looking in +great content, now at her new traveling-shoes, which peeped out from +beneath her petticoats, and now down at the water, while the morning +sun shone on her white forehead, above which the hair was neatly +parted. I noticed that the students would have liked to engage her in +polite discourse, for they kept passing to and fro before her, and the +cornetist, whenever he did so, cleared his throat, and settled, first +his cravat, and then his three-cornered hat. But their courage failed +them, and moreover the girl cast down her eyes as soon as they, +approached her. + +They seemed, besides, to stand in special awe of the elderly gentleman +in the gray overcoat, who was now sitting on the other side of the +boat, and whom they took for a divine. He held an open breviary, in +which he was reading, looking up from it frequently to admire the +lovely scenery, while the gilt edges of the book and the gay pictures +of saints laid between its leaves shone brilliantly in the sun light. +He was perfectly well aware, too, of what was going on around him, +and soon recognized the birds by their feathers, for before long he +addressed one of the students in Latin, whereupon all three approached +him, took off their hats, and made answer also in Latin. + +Meanwhile, I had seated myself at the prow of the boat, where, highly +delighted, I dangled my legs above the water, gazing, while the boat +glided onward and the waves below me leaped and foamed, constantly +into the blue distance, watching towers and castles one after another +emerge from the dim depths of green, grow and grow upon the sight, +and finally recede and vanish behind us. "If I had but wings at this +moment!" I thought; and at last in my impatience I drew forth my dear +violin and played all my oldest pieces, which I had learned at home +and at the castle of the Lady fair. + +All at once some one behind me tapped me on the shoulder. It was +the reverend gentleman, who had laid aside his book, and had been +listening to me for a while. "Aha," he said laughing, "aha, my young +_ludi magister_ is forgetting to eat and drink!" Whereupon he bade me +put away my fiddle and take a bit of luncheon with him, and he then +led me to a pleasant little arbor which the boatmen had erected in +the centre of the boat out of young birches and firs. He had a table +placed beneath it, and I and the students, and even the young girl, +were invited to sit down around it upon the casks and packages. + +The reverend gentleman now produced cold meat and bread and butter, +which had all been carefully wrapped in paper, and took from a case +several bottles of wine and a silver goblet, gilt inside, which he +filled, tasted first himself, then smelled, tasted again, and finally +presented to each of us in turn. The students sat bolt upright on +their casks, and only sipped a little, so great was their awe. The +girl, too, just dipped her little beak in the goblet, glancing shyly +first at me and then at the students; but the oftener she looked at us +the bolder she grew. + +At last she informed the reverend gentleman that she was leaving her +home for the first time, to go into service at a certain castle, and +as she spoke I blushed all over, for the castle she mentioned was +that of the Lady fair. "Then she is my future lady's maid!" I thought, +staring at her, and feeling almost giddy. "There is soon to be a grand +wedding at the castle," said his reverence. "Yes," replied the girl, +who would have liked to learn more of the matter; "they say it is an +old secret attachment, but that the Countess could never be brought to +give her consent." His reverence replied only by "hm! hm!" refilling +his goblet, and sipping from it with a thoughtful air. I leaned +forward with both elbows on the table, that I might lose no word of +the conversation. His reverence observed it. "Let me tell you," he +began again, "that both Countesses sent me forth to discover whether +the bridegroom be not in the country hereabouts. A lady wrote from +Rome that he left there some time ago." When he began about the +lady in Rome I blushed again. "Is your reverence acquainted with the +bridegroom?" I asked, in confusion. "No," replied the old gentleman; +"but they say he is a gay bird." "Oh, yes," said I, hastily, "a bird +that escapes as soon as it can from every cage, and sings gaily when +it regains its freedom." "And wanders about in foreign countries," the +old gentleman continued, composedly, "goes everywhere at night, +and sleeps on door-steps in the daytime." That vexed me extremely. +"Reverend sir," I exclaimed, with some heat, "you have been falsely +informed. The bridegroom is a slender, moral, promising youth, who has +been living in luxury in an old castle in Italy, and has associated +solely with Countesses, famous painters, and lady's-maids, who knows +perfectly well how to take care of his money, if he had any, who--" +"Come, come, I had no idea that you knew him so well," the divine here +interrupted me, laughing so heartily that he grew quite purple in the +face and the tears rolled down his cheeks. "But I heard," the girl +interposed, "that the bridegroom was a stout, very wealthy gentleman." +"Good heavens, yes, yes, to be sure! Confusion worse confounded!" +exclaimed his reverence, laughing so that it brought on a fit of +coughing. When he had somewhat recovered himself, he raised his goblet +aloft and cried, "Here's to the bridal pair!" I did not know what +to make of the reverend gentleman and his talk, and I was ashamed, +because of my adventures in Rome, to tell him here before all these +people that I myself was the missing thrice happy bridegroom. + +The goblet kept passing from hand to hand; the reverend gentleman +had a kind word for every one, so that all liked him, and finally the +entire company chatted gaily together. The students grew more and more +loquacious, recounting their experiences in the mountains, and at last +brought out their instruments and played away merrily. The cool breeze +from the water sighed through the leaves of the arbor, the afternoon +sun gilded the woods and vales which flew past us, while the shores +echoed back the notes of the horn. And when the reverend gentleman, +stimulated by the music, grew more and more genial, and told us +stories of his youth, how in vacation-time he too had wandered over +hills and dales, and had been often hungry and thirsty, but always +happy, and how, in fact, a student's whole life, from its first day in +the narrow, dry lecture-room to its last, is one long vacation, then +the students drank all around once more, and struck up a song, that +reechoed among the distant mountains + + "The birds are southward winging + Their yearly, airy flight, + And roving lads are swinging + Their caps in morning's light; + We students thus are going, + And, when the gates are nigh, + Our trumpets shall be blowing, + In token of good-bye. + A long farewell we give thee, + O Prague, for we must leave thee, + _Et habeat bonam pacem, + Qui sedet post fornacem_! + + "When through the towns we're going + At night, the windows shine, + Behind their curtains showing + Full many a damsel fine. + We play at many a gate-way, + And when our throats are dry + We call mine host, and straightway + He treats us generously; + And o'er a goblet foaming + We rest awhile from roaming. + _Venit ex sua domo-- + Beatus ille homo_! + + "When roaming through the forest + Cold Boreas whistles shrill, + 'Tis then our need is sorest; + Wet through on plain and hill, + Our cloaks the winds are tearing, + Our shoes are worn and old, + Still playing, onward faring, + In spite of rain and cold. + _Beatus ille homo + Qui sedet in sua domo + Et sedet post fornacem, + Et habeat bonam pacem!"_ + +I, the captain, and the girl, although we did not understand Latin, +joined gaily in the last lines of each verse; but I was the gayest of +all, for I had caught a glimpse in the distance of my toll-house, and +soon afterward the castle shone among the trees in the light of the +setting sun. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +The boat touched the shore, and we all left it as quickly as possible, +and scattered about in the meadows, like birds suddenly set free from +the cage. The reverend gentleman took a hasty leave of us, and strode +off toward the castle. The students repaired to a retired dingle, +where they could shake out their cloaks, wash themselves in the brook, +and shave one another. The new lady's-maid, with her canary-bird and +her bundle, set out for an inn, the hostess of which I had recommended +to her as an excellent person, and where she wished to change her +gown before she presented herself at the castle. As for me--the lovely +evening shone right into my heart, and as soon as all the rest had +disappeared I lost not a moment, but ran directly to the castle +garden. + +My toll-house, which I had to pass, was standing on the old spot, the +tall trees in the castle garden were still murmuring above it, and +a yellow-hammer, which always used to sing at sunset in the +chestnut-tree before the window, was singing again, as if nothing in +the world had happened since I last heard him. The toll-house window +was open; I ran up to it with delight and looked in. There was no one +there, but the clock in the corner was ticking away, the writing-table +stood by the window, and the long pipe in the corner as of old. I +could not resist the temptation to climb through the window and seat +myself at the writing-table before the big account-book. Again the +sunlight shone golden-green through the chestnut boughs upon the +figures in the open book, again the bees buzzed in and out of the +window, and again the yellow-hammer's jocund song sounded from the +tree outside. All at once the door of the sleeping-room opened, and a +tall, old Receiver, in my dotted dressing-gown, entered! He paused on +the threshold upon beholding me thus unexpectedly, took his spectacles +quickly from his nose, and looked angrily at me. Not a little alarmed, +I started up, and, without saying a word, ran out of the door and +through the little garden, where I was very nearly tripped up by the +confounded potato-vines which the old Receiver had planted, evidently +by the Porter's advice, in place of my flowers. I heard him as he +came out of the door scolding after me, but I was mounted atop of the +garden wall, and gazing with a throbbing heart over into the castle +garden. + +Ah, how the birds were flitting and twittering and singing! The lawns +and paths were deserted, but the gilded tree-tops nodded a welcome to +me in the evening breeze, and on one side, up through masses of dark +green foliage, gleamed the Danube. + +Suddenly I heard sung from the depths of the garden-- + + "When the yearning heart is stilled + As in dreams, the forest sighing, + To the listening earth replying, + Tells the thoughts with which 'twas filled, + Days long vanished, soothing sorrow-- + From the Past a light they borrow, + And the heart is gently thrilled." + +The voice and the song were strangely familiar, as if I had heard +them somewhere in a dream. I pondered over and over again, and at last +exclaimed, joyfully, "It is Herr Guido!" swinging myself quickly down +into the garden. It was the selfsame song that he had sung on the +balcony of the Italian inn on that summer evening when I saw him for +the last time. + +He went on singing, while I bounded over beds and hedges toward the +singer. But as I emerged from between the last clumps of rose-bushes I +suddenly paused spellbound. For on the green opening beside the little +lake with the swans, clearly illuminated in the ruddy evening light, +on a stone bench sat the lovely Lady fair in a beautiful dress, with +a wreath of red and white roses on her dark-brown hair, and downcast +eyes, tracing lines on the green-sward with her riding-whip, just as +she had sat in the skiff when I was forced to sing her the song of +the Lady fair. Opposite her sat another young lady, with brown curls +clustering on a plump white neck, which was turned toward me; she was +singing to a guitar, while the swans glided in wide circles on the +placid water. All at once the Lady fair raised her eyes, and gave +a scream on perceiving me. The other lady turned round toward me so +quickly that her brown curls fell over her eyes, and when she saw me +she burst into a fit of immoderate laughter, sprang up from the bench, +and clapped her hands thrice. Whereupon a crowd of little girls in +white short skirts with red and green sashes came running out from +among the rose-bushes, so that I could not imagine where they had all +been hiding. They had long garlands of flowers in their hands, and +quickly formed a circle around me, dancing and singing-- + + "With ribbons gay of violets blue + The bridal wreath we bring thee; + The merry dance we lead thee to, + And wedding songs we sing thee. + Ribbons gay of violets blue, + Bridal wreath we bring thee." + +It was from _Der Freischuetz_. I recognized some of the little singers; +they were girls from the village. I pinched their cheeks, and tried to +escape from the circle, but the roguish little things would not let +me out. I could not tell what to make of it all, and stood there +perfectly dazed. + +Suddenly a young man in hunting costume emerged from the shrubbery. +Hardly could I believe my eyes--it was merry Herr Lionardo! The little +girls now opened the circle and stood as if spell-bound on one foot, +with the other stretched out, holding the garlands of flowers high +above their heads with both hands. Herr Lionardo took the hand of the +lovely Lady fair, who had risen, and had only now and then glanced at +me, and, leading her up to me, said-- + +"Love--on this point philosophers are unanimous--is one of the most +courageous qualities of the human heart; it shatters with a glance of +fire the barriers of rank and station, the world is too confined for +it, eternity too brief. It is, so to speak, a poet's robe, in which +every dreamer enwraps himself once in this cold world, for a journey +to Arcadia. And the farther two parted lovers wander from each other, +the more beautiful and the richer are the folds of the robe, the more +surprising and wonderful is its extent, as it sweeps behind them, so +that one really cannot travel far without treading on a couple of such +trains. O beloved Herr Receiver, and bridegroom! although wrapped in +this robe you reached the shores of the Tiber, the little hands of +your present bride held you fast by the extreme end of the train, and, +however you might fiddle and fume, you had to return within the magic +influence of her beautiful eyes. And since this is so, you two dear, +foolish people, wrap yourselves both up in this blessed robe, forget +all the rest of the world, love like turtle-doves, and be happy!" + +Hardly had Herr Lionardo finished his speech when the other young lady +who had sung the song approached me, crowned me with a wreath of fresh +myrtle, and as she was arranging it, with her face close to my own, +archly sang-- + + "And therefore do I crown thee, + And therefore love thee so, + Because thou oft hast moved me + With the music of thy bow." + +As she retreated a step or two, "Do you remember the robbers who shook +you down from the tree at night?" said she, courtesying, and giving +me so arch a glance that my heart danced within me. Thereupon, without +waiting for an answer, she walked around me. "Actually just the +same, without any Italian affectations! But no! look, look at his fat +pockets!" she exclaimed suddenly to the lovely Lady fair. "Violin, +linen, razor, portmanteau, everything stuffed together!" She turned +me all round as she spoke, and could scarcely say anything more for +laughing. Meanwhile, the lovely Lady fair was quite silent, and could +hardly raise her eyes for shame and confusion. It seemed to me that +at heart she was provoked at all this jesting talk. At last her eyes +filled with tears, and she hid her face on the breast of the other +lady, who first looked at her in surprise and then clasped her +affectionately in her arms. + +I stood there as in a dream. The longer I looked at the strange lady +the more clearly I recognized her; she was in truth no other than--the +young painter, Herr Guido! + +I did not know what to say, and was just about to question her, when +Herr Lionardo approached her and spoke in an undertone. "Does he not +know yet?" I heard him ask. She shook her head. He reflected for a +moment, and then said aloud, "No, no, he must be told all immediately, +or there will be all kinds of fresh gossip and confusion." + +"Herr Receiver," he said, turning to me, "we have not much time at +present, but do me the favor to exhaust your stock of surprise +and wonder as quickly as possible, that you may not hereafter, by +questions, and wonderings, and head-shakings among the people about +here, revive old tales and give rise to new rumors and suspicions." So +saying, he drew me aside into the shrubbery, while Fraeulein Guido made +passes in the air with the Lady fair's riding-whip, and shook all her +curls down over her eyes, which did not prevent my seeing that she was +blushing violently. + +"Well, then," said Herr Lionardo, "Fraeulein Flora, who is trying +to look as if she neither knew nor had heard anything of the whole +affair, had exchanged hearts in a hurry with somebody. Whereupon +somebody else appears, and with sound of trumpet and drum offers her +his heart, and wishes for hers in return. But her heart is already +bestowed upon somebody, and somebody's heart is in her possession, and +that somebody will neither take back his heart nor give back hers. All +the world exclaims--but have you never read any romances?" I shook my +head. "Well, then, at all events you have taken part in one. In brief, +there was such a jumble with the hearts that somebody--that is, I--had +to take matters in hand. I sprang on my horse one warm summer night, +mounted Fraeulein Flora as the painter Guido on another, and rode +toward the south, to conceal her in one of my lonely castles in Italy +till all the fuss about the hearts should be over. But on the way we +were tracked, and from the balcony of the Italian inn before which you +kept, sound asleep, such admirable watch, Flora suddenly caught sight +of our pursuer." "The crooked Signor, then--" "Was a spy. Therefore we +secretly took to the woods, and left you to travel post alone over +our prearranged route. That misled our pursuer, and my people in the +mountain castle besides; they were hourly expecting the disguised +Flora, and with more zeal than penetration they took you for the +Fraeulein. Even here at the castle they thought Flora was among the +mountains; they inquired about her, they wrote to her--did you not +receive a note?" In an instant I produced the note from my pocket: +"This letter, then--?" "Is addressed to me," said Fraeulein Flora, +who up to this point had seemed to be paying no attention to our +conversation. She snatched the note from me, read it, and put it +into her bosom. "And now," said Herr Lionardo, "we must hasten to the +castle, where they are all waiting for us. In conclusion, as a matter +of course, and as is fitting for every well-bred romance--discovery, +repentance, reconciliation; but we are all happy together once more, +and the wedding takes place the day after tomorrow!" + +Just as he had finished, a terrific racket of drums and trumpets, +horns and clarionets, was suddenly heard in the shrubbery; guns were +fired at intervals, loud cheers were given, the little girls began to +dance again, and heads appeared among the bushes as if they had grown +out of the earth. I ran and leaped about in all the hurry and scurry, +but as it began to grow dark I only gradually recognized all the +faces. The old gardener beat the drum, the students from Prague in +their cloaks played away, and among them the Porter fingered his +bassoon like mad. When I suddenly perceived him thus unexpectedly, I +ran to him and embraced him with enthusiasm, causing him to play quite +out of time. "Upon my word, if he should travel to the ends of +the earth he would never be anything but a goose!" he said to the +students, and then went on blowing away at his bassoon in a fury. + +Meanwhile, the lovely Lady fair had privately escaped from all the +noise and confusion, and had fled like a startled fawn far into the +depths of the garden. + +I caught sight of her in time and hurried after her. In their zeal +the musicians never noticed us; after a while they thought that we had +decamped to the castle, and then the entire band took up the line of +march in that direction. + +We, however, almost at the same moment reached a summer-house on the +borders of the garden, whence through the open window there was a +view of the wide, deep valley. The sun had long since set behind the +mountains, a rosy haze glimmered in the warm fading twilight, through +which the murmur of the Danube ascended clearer and clearer the +stiller grew the air. I looked long at the lovely Countess, who stood +before me heated with her flight and so close that I could almost hear +her heart beat. Now that I was alone with her I could find no words to +speak, so great was my awe of her. At last I took heart of grace, and +clasped in mine one of her little white hands--and in one moment her +head lay on my breast and my arms were around her. + +In an instant she extricated herself and turned to the window to cool +her glowing cheeks in the evening air. "Ah," I cried, "my heart is +full to bursting, but it all seems like a dream to me!" "And to me +too," said the lovely Lady fair. "When, last summer," she went on +after a while, "I came back with the Countess from Rome where we +fortunately found Fraeulein Flora, and had brought her back with us but +could hear nothing of you either there or here, I never thought all +this would come to pass. It was only at noon today that Jocky, the +good, brisk fellow, came breathless into the court-yard and brought +the news that you had come by the mail-boat." Then she laughed quietly +to herself. "Do you remember," she said, "that time when I came out on +the balcony? It was just such an evening as this, and there was music +in the garden." "And he is really dead?" I asked hastily. "Whom do +you mean?" replied the Lady fair, looking at me in surprise. "Your +ladyship's husband," said I, "who was with you on the balcony." She +flushed crimson. "What strange fancies you have in your head!" she +exclaimed. "That was the Countess's son, who had just returned from +his travels, and, since it happened to be my birthday, he led me out +on the balcony with him that I might have a share of the cheers. Was +that why you ran away?" "Good heavens, yes!" I cried, striking my +forehead with my hand. She shook her head and laughed merrily. + +I was so happy there beside her while she went on chatting so +confidingly, that I could have sat listening until morning. I found in +my pocket a handful of almonds which I had brought with me from Italy. +She took some, and we sat and cracked them and gazed abroad over the +quiet country. "Do you see that little white villa," she said after a +while, "gleaming over there in the moonlight? The Count has given us +that, with its garden and vineyard; there is where we are to live. He +found out long ago that we cared for each other, and he is very fond +of you, for if he had not had you with them when he was running +off with Fraeulein Flora they would both have been caught before the +Countess had become reconciled to him, and everything would have been +spoiled." "Good heavens! fairest, sweetest Countess," I cried out, +"my head is fairly spinning with all this unexpected and amazing +information; are you talking of Herr Lionardo?" "Yes, yes," she +replied; "that is what he called himself in Italy; he owns all that +property over there, and he is going to marry our Countess's daughter, +the lovely Flora. But why do you call me Countess?" I stared at her. +"I am no Countess," she went on. "Our Countess took me into the castle +and had me educated under her care when my uncle, the Porter, brought +me here a poor little orphan child." + +Ah, what a stone fell from my heart at these words! "God bless the +Porter," I said in an ecstasy, "for being our uncle! I always set +great store by him." "And he would be very fond of you," she replied, +"if you would only comport yourself with more dignity, as he expresses +it. You must dress with greater elegance." "Oh," I exclaimed, +enchanted, "an English dress-coat, straw hat, long trousers, and +spurs! And as soon as we're married we will take a trip to Italy--to +Rome--where lovely fountains are playing, and we'll take with us the +Prague students, and the Porter!" She smiled quietly, and gave me a +happy glance, while the music echoed in the distance, and rockets flew +up from the castle above the garden in the quiet night, and the Danube +kept murmuring on, and everything, everything was delightful! + + + + +ADALBERT VON CHAMISSO + + * * * * * + + THE CASTLE OF BONCOURT[37] (1827) + + + I dream of the days of my childhood, + And shake my silvery head. + How haunt ye my brain, O visions, + Methought ye forgotten and dead! + + + From the shades of the forest uprises + A castle so lofty and great; + Well know I the battlements, towers, + The arching stone-bridge, and the gate. + + The lions look down from the scutcheon + On me with familiar face; + I greet the old friends of my boyhood, + And speed through the courtyard space. + + There lies the Sphinx by the fountain; + The fig-tree's foliage gleams; + 'Twas there, behind yon windows, + I dreamt the first of my dreams. + + I tread the aisle of the chapel, + And search for my fathers' graves-- + Behold them! And there from the pillars + Hang down the old armor and glaives. + + Not yet can I read the inscription; + A veil hath enveloped my sight, + What though through the painted windows + Glows brightly the sunbeam's light. + Thus gleams, O hall of my fathers, + Thy image so bright in my mind, + From the earth now vanished, the ploughshare + Leaves of thee no vestige behind. + + Be fruitful, lov'd soil, I will bless thee, + While anguish o'er-cloudeth my brow; + Threefold will I bless him, whoever + May guide o'er thy bosom the plough. + + But I will up, up, and be doing; + My lyre I'll take in my hand; + O'er the wide, wide earth will I wander, + And sing from land to land. + +[Illustration: ADALBERT VON CHAMISSO] + + * * * * * + + THE LION'S BRIDE[38] + + + With myrtle bedecked and in bridal array, + Comes the keeper's fair daughter, as blooming as May. + She enters the cage of the lion; he lies + Calm and still at her feet and looks up in her eyes. + + The terrible beast, of whom men are afraid, + Lies peaceful and tame at the feet of the maid, + While she, in her tender adorable grace, + Is stroking his head as the tears stain her face. + + "In the days that are gone, we were playmates so true; + Like brother and sister we played, I and you. + Our love was still constant in joy or in pain-- + But alas for the days that will ne'er come again! + + "You learned to toss proudly your glorious head, + And roar, as you tossed it, a warning of dread; + I grew from a babe to a woman--you see, + No longer a light-hearted child I can be. + + "Oh, would that those days had had never an end, + My splendid strong playmate, my noble old friend! + But soon I must go, so my parents decree, + Away with a stranger--no more am I free. + + "A man has beheld me, and fancied me fair; + He has asked for my hand--and the wreath's in my hair! + Dear faithful old comrade, my girlhood is dead; + And my sight is bedimmed with the tears I have shed. + + "Do you know what I mean? Ah, your look is a sign! + I have made up my mind, and you need not repine. + But yonder he comes who must lead me away-- + So I'll give the last kiss to my playmate today!" + + As the last fond farewell with reluctance she took, + The huge frame so trembled the bars even shook; + But when, drawing near a strange man he espied, + A sudden alarm seized the heart of the bride. + + The lion stands guard by the door of the cage-- + He is lashing his tail, he is roaring with rage. + With threats, with entreaties she bids him to cease, + But in vain--in his might he denies her release. + + Without are confusion and cries of despair + "Bring a gun!" shouts the bridegroom; "our one hope is there! + I will snatch her away from his horrible claws * * *" + But the lion defies him with foam-dripping jaws. + + The girl makes a last frenzied dash for the door-- + But his past love the beast seems to measure no more; + The sweet slender body goes down 'neath his might, + All bleeding and lifeless, a pitiful sight. + + Then, as if he knew well what a crime he had wrought, + He throws himself down by her, caring for naught; + He lies all unheeding what dangers remain, + Till the bullet avenging speeds swift through his brain. + + * * * * * + + WOMAN'S LOVE AND LIFE[39] (1830) + + + 1 + + Since mine eyes beheld him, + Blind I seem to be; + Wheresoe'er they wander, + Him alone they see. + Round me glows his image, + In a waking dream; + From the darkness rising + Brighter doth it beam. + + All is drear and gloomy + That around me lies; + Now my sister's pastimes + I no longer prize; + In my chamber rather + Would I weep alone; + Since my eyes beheld him + Blind methinks I'm grown. + + + 2 + + He, the best of all, the noblest, + O how gentle! O how kind + Lips of sweetness, eyes of brightness, + Steadfast courage, lucid mind. + + As on high, in Heaven's azure, + Bright and splendid, beams yon star, + Thus he in my heaven beameth, + Bright and splendid, high and far. + + Wander, wander where thou listest, + I will gaze but on thy beam; + With humility behold it, + In a sad, yet blissful dream. + + Hear me not thy bliss imploring + With prayer's silent eloquence? + Know me now, a lowly maiden, + Star of proud magnificence! + + May thy choice be rendered happy + By the worthiest alone! + And I'll call a thousand blessings + Down on her exalted throne. + + Then I'll weep with tears of gladness; + Happy, happy then my lot! + If my heart should rive asunder, + Break, O heart--it matters not! + + + 3 + + Is it true? O, I cannot believe it; + A dream doth my senses enthrall; + O can he have made me so happy, + And exalted me thus above all? + + Meseems as if he had spoken, + "I am thine, ever faithful and true!" + Meseems--O still am I dreaming-- + It cannot, it cannot be true! + + O fain would I, rocked on his bosom, + In the sleep of eternity lie; + That death were indeed the most blissful, + In the rapture of weeping to die. + + + 4 + + Help me, ye sisters, + Kindly to deck me, + Me, O the happy one, aid me this morn! + Let the light finger + Twine the sweet myrtle's + Blossoming garland, my brow to adorn! + + As on the bosom + Of my loved one, + Wrapt in the bliss of contentment, I lay, + He, with soft longing + In his heart thrilling, + Ever impatiently sighed for today. + + Aid me, ye sisters, + Aid me to banish + Foolish anxieties, timid and coy, + That I with sparkling + Eye may receive him, + Him the bright fountain of rapture and joy. + + Do I behold thee, + Thee, my beloved one, + Dost thou, O sun, shed thy beam upon me? + Let me devoutly, + Let me in meekness + Bend to my lord and my master the knee! + + Strew, ye fair sisters, + Flowers before him, + Cast budding roses around at his feet! + Joyfully quitting + Now your bright circle, + You, lovely sisters, with sadness I greet. + + + 5 + + Dearest friend, thou lookest + On me with surprise, + Dost thou wonder wherefore + Tears suffuse mine eyes? + Let the dewy pearl-drops + Like rare gems appear, + Trembling, bright with gladness, + In their crystal sphere. + + With what anxious raptures + Doth my bosom swell! + O had I but language + What I feel to tell! + Come and hide thy face, love, + Here upon my breast, + In thine ear I'll whisper + Why I am so blest. + + Now the tears thou knowest + Which my joy confessed, + Thou shalt not behold them, + Thou, my dearest, best; + Linger on my bosom, + Feel its throbbing tide; + Let me press thee firmly, + Firmly, to my side! + + Here may rest the cradle, + Close my couch beside, + Where it may in silence + My sweet vision hide; + Soon will come the morning, + When my dream will wake, + And thy smiling image + Will to life awake. + + + 6 + + Upon my heart, and upon my breast, + Thou joy of all joys, my sweetest, best! + Bliss, thou art love; O love, thou art bliss-- + I've said it, and seal it here with a kiss. + I thought no happiness mine could exceed, + But now I am happy, O happy indeed! + She only, who to her bosom hath pressed + The babe who drinketh life at her breast; + 'Tis only a mother the joys can know + Of love, and real happiness here below. + How I pity man, whose bosom reveals + No joys like that which a mother feels! + Thou look'st on me, with a smile on thy brow, + Thou dear, dear little angel, thou! + Upon my heart, and upon my breast, + Thou joy of all joys, my sweetest, best! + + + 7 + + Ah, thy first wound hast thou inflicted now! + But oh! how deep! + Hard-hearted, cruel man, now sleepest thou + Death's long, long sleep. + + I gaze upon the void in silent grief, + The world is drear; + I've lived and loved, but now the verdant leaf + Of life is sere. + + I will retire within my soul's recess, + The veil shall fall; + I'll live with thee and my past happiness, + O thou, my all! + +[Illustration: _Permission Franz Hanfstaengl, New York_ MORITZ VON +SCHWIND THE WEDDING JOURNEY] + + * * * * * + + THE WOMEN OF WEINSBERG[40] (1831) + + + It was the good King Konrad with all his army lay + Before the town of Weinsberg full many a weary day; + The Guelph at last was vanquished, but still the town held out; + The bold and fearless burghers they fought with courage stout. + + But then came hunger, hunger! That was a grievous guest; + They went to ask for favor, but anger met their quest. + "Through you the dust hath bitten full many a worthy knight, + And if your gates you open, the sword shall you requite!" + + Then came the women, praying: "Let be as thou hast said, + Yet give us women quarter, for we no blood have shed!" + At sight of these poor wretches the hero's anger failed, + And soft compassion entered and in his heart prevailed. + + "The women shall be pardoned, and each with her shall bear + As much as she can carry of her most precious ware; + The women with their burdens unhindered forth shall go, + Such is our royal judgment--we swear it shall be so!" + + At early dawn next morning, ere yet the east was bright, + The soldiers saw advancing a strange and wondrous sight; + The gate swung slowly open, and from the vanquished town + Forth swayed a long procession of women weighted down; + + For perched upon her shoulders each did her husband bear-- + That was the thing most precious of all her household ware. + "We'll stop the treacherous women!" cried all with one intent; + The chancellor he shouted: "This was not what we meant!" + + But when they told King Konrad, the good King laughed aloud; + "If this was not our meaning, they've made it so," he vowed, + "A promise is a promise, our loyal word was pledge; + It stands, and no Lord Chancellor may quibble or map hedge." + + Thus was the royal scutcheon kept free from stain or blot! + The story has descended from days now half forgot; + 'Twas eleven hundred and forty this happened, as I've heard, + The flower of German princes thought shame to break his word. + + * * * * * + + THE CRUCIFIX[41] (1830) + + + In hopeless contemplation of his work + The master stood, a frown upon his brow, + Where shame and self-contempt appeared to lurk. + + With all his art and knowledge he had now + Portrayed the suffering Savior's image there-- + Yet could the marble not with life endow. + + He could not make it live, for all his care-- + What is not flesh knows not to suffer pain; + Cold stone can none but stone's cold likeness bear. + + Beauty and due proportion though it gain, + The chisel's marks will never disappear + And nature wake, howe'er his prayer may strain: + + "Ah, turn not from me, Nature! Thou most dear, + I long to raise thee to undreamed of height-- + But thou art dumb * * * a sorry bungler's here!" + + There entered then a loyal neophyte, + Who looked with reverence on the master's art + And stood beside him, flushed with new delight. + + To the same muse was given his young heart, + The selfsame quest of beauty filled his days-- + Yet must his soul with endless failure smart. + + To him the master: "Scorn is in thy praise! + If so this dull, dead stone thy mind can fill, + To death, not life, thou must have turned thy face!" + + Then boldly spoke the youth: "Admire I will! + What though thy Christ for death's repose prepare + So strangely silent and so strangely still, + + Yet at a great thing greatly wrought I stare, + And long to match the marvel that I see; + I see what is, and thou what should be there." + + The master looked upon him silently, + His youthful strength, his limbs so straight and fine, + And deemed there were no model such as he. + + "A prey thou find'st me to despair malign-- + How get from lifeless marble life and pain? + Here nature fails, whose secrets else are mine. + + To seek a hireling's aid were all in vain; + And sought I thine, though partner of my aims, + Naught but a cold refusal should I gain." + + "Nay," said the youth, "in art's and God's high names, + I would perform unwearied, unafraid, + Whate'er of me thy need transcendent claims." + + He spoke, and straight his beauty disarrayed, + Showing the fair flower of his youthful grace + Within the guarded workshop's sacred shade. + + Entranced the master gazed, and could not chase + A thought that rose unbidden to his mind-- + If pain upon that form its lines could trace! + + "The help thou off'rest if I am to find, + Thee too the cross must raise above the ground * * *" + Willing, the youth his gracious limbs resigned. + + With tight cords first his prey the sculptor bound, + Then brought the hammer and the piercing nails-- + A martyr's death must close the destined round! + + The first sharp nail went through, and piteous wails + Burst from the youth, but no compassion woke; + An eager eye the look of suffering hails. + + With restless haste redoubled, stroke on stroke + Achieved the bleeding model that he sought. + Calmly to work he went; no word he spoke. + + A hideous joy upon his features wrought-- + For nature now each shade of anguished woe + Upon the expiring lovely form had taught. + + Unceasing worked his hands, above, below; + His heart was to all human feeling dead-- + But in the marble * * * life began to show! + + Whether in prayer the sufferer bowed his head, + Or in despairing torment gnashed his teeth, + Still on the sculptor's flying fingers sped. + + The pale, exhausted victim, nigh to death, + As night the third long day of agony + Is ending, murmurs with his last weak breath, + + "My God, my God, hast Thou forsaken me?" + The eyes, half raised, sink down, the writhings cease, + The awful crime has reached its term--and see + + There, in its glory, stands a masterpiece! + + + II + + "My God, my God, hast Thou forsaken me?" + At midnight in the minster rang the wail; + Who could have raised it? 'Twas a mystery. + + At the high altar, where its radiance pale + A tiny lamp threw out, a form was found + To move, whence came the faltering accents frail. + + And then it dashed itself upon the ground, + Its forehead 'gainst the stones, and wildly wept; + The vaulted roof reechoed with the sound. + + Long was the vigil that dim figure kept + That seemed by tears so strangely comforted; + None dared its tottering footsteps intercept. + + At last the night's mysterious hours were sped + And day returned; but all was silent now, + And with the dawn the ghostly form had fled. + + The faithful came before their God to bow, + The canons to the altar reverently. + There had been placed above it, none knew how, + + A crucifix whose like none e'er did see; + Thus, only thus had God His strength put by, + Thus had He looked upon the blood-stained tree. + + To Him whose suffering brought salvation nigh + Came sinners for release, a contrite band-- + And "Christ have mercy!" was the general cry. + + It seems not like the work of mortal hand hand-- + Who can have set the godlike image there? + Who in the dead of night such offering planned? + + It is the master's, who with anxious care + Has waited, from the public gaze withdrawn, + To show the utmost that his art can dare. + + What shall we bring him for his ease foregone + And brain o'ertasked? Gold is but sorry meed-- + His head a crown of laurel shall put on!-- + + So soon a great procession was decreed + Of priests and laymen; marching in the van + Went one who bore the recompense agreed. + + They came where dwelt the venerated man-- + And found an open door, an empty house; + They called his name, and naught but echoes ran. + + The drums and cymbals all the neighbors rouse + And trumpets shrill their joy; but none appears + To see the grateful people pay their vows. + + He is not there, the grave assemblage hears; + A neighbor, waking early, like a ghost + Saw him steal forth, a prey to nameless fears. + + From room to room they went--their pains were lost; + In all the desolate chambers there was none + That answered them, or came to play the host. + + They called aloud, let in the cheerful sun + Through opened windows--in their anxious round + Into the workshop entrance last they won * * *, + + Ah, speak not of the horror there they found! + + + III + + They have brought a captive home, and raging told + That he is stained with foulest blasphemy, + Mocks their false prophet with his insults bold. + + It is the pilgrim we were used to see + For penance roaming 'neath our palm-trees' shade, + Till at the Holy Grave he might be free. + + Will he, when comes the hangman, unafraid + A Christian's courage show in face of wrong? + God strengthen him on whom he cries for aid! + + Ah yes--though life is sweet, his will is strong, + His mind made up; he yields him to their hands, + Content to shed his blood in torment long. + + Nay, look not yonder, where the savage bands + And merciless prepare a hideous deed-- + Perchance a like dread fate before us stands! + + He comes, a victim led * * * yet will he bleed? + I see a wondrous radiance in his face, + As though unlooked-for safety were decreed! + + Can he have bought it * * *? No! they stride apace + Toward the blood-stained spot--it is to be. + The martyr's palm his confident brow shall grace. + + "Weep not! No tears of pity flowed from me + When to the cross the tender youth I bound-- + My heart of stone ignored his misery." + + So, hounded by remorse, the sinner found + The path of expiation, firmly trod, + Cain's brand upon him, all the dreadful round. + + "Thou who didst die for me, all-pitying God, + Wilt Thou vouchsafe my tortures now an end? + I have not asked deliverance from Thy rod, + + Nor hoped Thou shouldst to me Thy mercy lend. + 'Tis life, not death, that is so hard to bear * * * + Into Thy hands my spirit I commend!" + + So when the ruffian captors seized him there + And bound him to the cross, he calmly smiled; + 'Twas they that watched whose brows were lined with care. + + And as his limbs were torn with anguish wild, + And he was lifted 'mid the throng on high, + White peace came down upon his soul defiled. + + In passionate prayer the faithful watched him die + That stood beneath the cross; his lips were still-- + His suffering was one long atoning cry. + + The day passed, and the night; with dauntless will + He yet found strength his torment dire to face. + The third day's sun sank down behind the hill; + + And as the glory of its parting rays + He strove with glazing eye once more to see, + With his last breath he cried in joyful praise + + "My God, my God, Thou hast not forsaken me!" + + * * * * * + + THE OLD SINGER[42] (1833) + + + Once a strange old man went singing, + Words of scornful admonition + To the streets and markets bringing: + "In the wilds a voice am I! + Slowly, slowly seek your mission; + Naught in haste, or rash endeavor-- + From the work yet ceasing never + Slow and sure the hour draws nigh! + + Time's great branches cease from shaking; + Blind are ye, devoid of reason, + If its fruit ye would be taking + When its blossoms have but burst. + Let it ripen to its season, + Wind within its branches bluster-- + Of itself the fruits 'twill muster + For whose juices ripe ye thirst." + + Wild, excited crowds are scorning + In their guise the gray old singer, + Thus reward him for his warning, + Ape his songs in mockery: + "Shall we let the fellow linger + To disgrace us? Stone him, beat him, + With the scorn he merits treat him-- + Let the world his folly see!" + + So the strange old man went singing, + To the halls of royal splendor + Scornful admonition bringing: + "In the wilds a voice am I! + Doubt not, dream not of surrender: + Forward, forward, never ceasing, + Strength in spite of all increasing-- + Slow and sure the hour draws nigh! + + With the stream, before the breezes + Wouldst thou show thy strength, then teach it + Both to conquer as it pleases-- + Both are weaker than the grave. + Choose thy port, and steer to reach it! + Threatening rocks? The rudder's master; + Turning back is sure disaster, + And its end beneath the wave." + + One was seen to blench in terror, + Flushing first, then sudden paling: + "Who gave entrance--whose the error + Let this madman pass along? + All things show his wits are failing-- + Shall he daze our people's senses? + Prison him with sure defenses, + Silence hold his silly song!" + + But the strange old man went singing + Where within the tower they bound him-- + Calm and clear his answer ringing: + "In the wilds a voice am I! + Though the people's hate surround him, + Must the prophet still endeavor, + From his mission ceasing never-- + Slow and sure the hour draws nigh!" + + * * * * * + + THE OLD WASHERWOMAN[43] (1833) + + + Among yon lines her hands have laden, + A laundress with white hair appears, + Alert as many a youthful maiden, + Spite of her five-and-seventy years. + Bravely she won those white hairs, still + Eating the bread hard toil obtain'd her, + And laboring truly to fulfil + The duties to which God ordain'd her. + + Once she was young and full of gladness; + She loved and hoped, was woo'd and won; + Then came the matron's cares, the sadness + No loving heart on earth may shun. + Three babes she bore her mate; she pray'd + Beside his sick-bed; he was taken; + She saw him in the churchyard laid, + Yet kept her faith and hope unshaken. + + The task her little ones of feeding + She met unfaltering from that hour; + She taught them thrift and honest breeding, + Her virtues were their worldly dower. + To seek employment, one by one, + Forth with her blessing they departed, + And she was in the world alone, + Alone and old, but still high-hearted. + + With frugal forethought, self-denying, + She gather'd coin and flax she bought, + And many a night her spindle plying, + Good store of fine-spun thread she wrought. + The thread was fashion'd in the loom; + She brought it home, and calmly seated + To work, with not a thought of gloom, + Her decent grave-clothes she completed. + + She looks on them with fond elation, + They are her wealth, her treasure rare, + Her age's pride and consolation, + Hoarded with all a miser's care. + She dons the sark each Sabbath day, + To hear the Word that faileth never; + Well-pleased she lays it then away, + Till she shall sleep in it forever. + + Would that my spirit witness bore me + That, like this woman, I had done + The work my Master put before me, + Duly from morn till set of sun. + Would that life's cup had been by me + Quaff'd in such wise and happy measure, + And that I too might finally + Look on my shroud with such meek pleasure. + + + + +THE WONDERFUL HISTORY OF PETER SCHLEMIHL (1814) + +By ADALBERT VON CHAMISSO TRANSLATED BY FREDERIC H. HEDGE + +CHAPTER I + + +After a fortunate, but for me very troublesome voyage, we finally +reached the port. The instant that I touched land in the boat, I +loaded myself with my few effects, and passing through the swarming +people, I entered the first, and most modest house, before which I saw +a sign hang. I requested a room; the boots measured me with a look, +and conducted me into the garret. I caused fresh water to be brought, +and made him exactly describe to me where I should find Mr. Thomas +John. He replied to my inquiry--"Before the north gate; the first +country-house on the right hand; a large new house of red and white +marble, with many columns." + +"Good!" It was still early in the day. I opened at once my bundle; +took thence my new black cloth coat; clad myself cleanly in my best +apparel; put my letter of introduction into my pocket, and +immediately set out on the way to the man who was to promote my modest +expectations. + +When I had ascended the long North Street, and reached the gate, I +soon saw the pillars glimmer through the foliage. "Here it is, then," +thought I. I wiped the dust from my shoes with my pocket-handkerchief, +put my neckcloth in order, and in God's name rung the bell. The door +flew open. In the hall I had an examination to undergo; the porter, +however, permitted me to be announced, and I had the honor to be +called into the park, where Mr. John was walking with a select +party. I recognized the man at once by the lustre of his corpulent +self-complacency. He received me very well--as a rich man receives a +poor devil--even turned toward me, without turning from the rest of +the company, and took the offered letter from my hand. "So, so, from +my brother! I have heard nothing from him for a long time. But he is +well? There," continued he, addressing the company, without waiting +for an answer, and pointing with the letter to a hill, "there I am +going to erect the new building." He broke the seal without breaking +off the conversation, which turned upon riches. + +"He that is not master of a million, at least," he observed, +"is--pardon me the word--a wretch!" + +"O! how true!" I exclaimed with a rush of overflowing feeling. + +That pleased him. He smiled at me, and said--"Stay here, my good +friend; in a while I shall perhaps have time to tell you what I think +about this." He pointed to the letter, which he then thrust into his +pocket, and turned again to the company. He offered his arm to a young +lady; the other gentlemen addressed themselves to other fair +ones; each found what suited him; and all proceeded toward the +rose-blossomed mound. + +I slid into the rear, without troubling any one, for no one troubled +himself any further about me. The company was excessively lively; +there were dalliance and playfulness; trifles were sometimes discussed +with an important tone, but oftener important matters with levity; +and especially pleasantly flew the wit over absent friends and their +circumstances. I was too strange to understand much of all this; too +anxious and introverted to take an interest in such riddles. + +We had reached the rosary. The lovely Fanny, the belle of the day, +as it appeared, would, out of obstinacy, herself break off a blooming +bough. She wounded herself on a thorn, and as if from the dark roses, +flowed the purple on her tender hand. This circumstance put the whole +party into a flutter. English plaster was sought for. A still, +thin, lanky, longish, oldish man, who stood near, and whom I had +not hitherto remarked, put his hand instantly into the close-lying +breast-pocket of his old French gray taffetty coat; produced thence +a little pocket-book; opened it; and presented to the lady, with a +profound obeisance, the required article. She took it without noticing +the giver, and without thanks; the wound was bound up; and we went +forward over the hill, from whose back the company could enjoy the +wide prospect over the green labyrinth of the park to the boundless +ocean. + +The view was in reality vast and splendid. A light point appeared +on the horizon between the dark flood and the blue of the heaven. +"A telescope here!" cried John; and already, before the servants who +appeared at the call were in motion, the gray man, modestly bowing, +had thrust his hand into his coat-pocket, and drawn thence a beautiful +Dollond and handed it to John. Bringing it immediately to his eye, +the latter informed the company that it was the ship which went out +yesterday, and was detained in view of port by contrary winds. The +telescope passed from hand to hand, but not again into that of its +owner. I, however, gazed in wonder at the man, and could not conceive +how the great machine had come out of the narrow pocket; but this +seemed to have struck no one else, and nobody troubled himself any +farther about the gray man than about myself. + +Refreshments were handed round; the choicest fruits of every zone, in +the costliest vessels. Mr. John did the honors with an easy grace, and +a second time addressed a word to me. "Help yourself; you have not had +the like at sea." I bowed, but he saw it not; he was already speaking +with some one else. + +The company would fain have reclined upon the sward on the slope of +the hill, opposite to the outstretched landscape, had they not feared +the dampness of the earth. "It were divine," observed one of the +party, "had we but a Turkey carpet to spread here." The wish was +scarcely expressed when the man in the gray coat had his hand in +his pocket, and was busied in drawing thence, with a modest and even +humble deportment, a rich Turkey carpet interwoven with gold. The +servants received it as a matter of course, and opened it on the +required spot. The company, without ceremony, took their places upon +it; for myself, I looked again in amazement on the man, at the pocket, +at the carpet, which measured above twenty paces long and ten +in breadth, and rubbed my eyes, not knowing what to think of it, +especially as nobody saw anything extraordinary in it. + +I would fain have had some explanation regarding the man, and have +asked who he was, but I knew not to whom to address myself, for I +was almost more afraid of the gentlemen's servants than of the served +gentlemen. At length I took courage, and stepped up to a young man who +appeared to me to be of less consideration than the rest, and who had +often stood alone. I begged him softly to tell me who the agreeable +man in the gray coat there was. + +"He there, who looks like an end of thread that has escaped out of a +tailor's needle?" + +"Yes, he who stands alone." + +"I don't know him," he replied, and, as it seemed, in order to avoid +a longer conversation with me he turned away and spoke of indifferent +matters to another. + +The sun began now to shine more powerfully, and to inconvenience the +ladies. The lovely Fanny addressed carelessly to the gray man, whom, +as far as I am aware, no one had yet spoken to, the trifling question, +"Whether he had not, perchance, also a tent by him?" He answered her +by an obeisance most profound, as if an unmerited honor were done +him, and had already his hand in his pocket, out of which I saw come +canvas, poles, cordage, iron-work--in short, everything which belongs +to the most splendid pleasure-tent. The young gentlemen helped to +expand it, and it covered the whole extent of the carpet, and nobody +found anything remarkable in it. + +I had already become uneasy, nay, horrified at heart, but how +completely so, as, at the very next wish expressed, I saw him yet pull +out of his pocket three roadsters--I tell thee, three beautiful great +black horses, with saddle and caparison. Bethink thee! for God's +sake!--three saddled horses, still out of the same pocket from which +already a pocket-book, a telescope, an embroidered carpet, twenty +paces long and ten broad, a pleasure-tent of equal dimensions, and all +the requisite poles and irons, had come forth! If I did not protest to +thee that I saw it myself with my own eyes, thou couldst not possibly +believe it. + +Embarrassed and obsequious as the man himself appeared to be, little +as was the attention which had been bestowed upon him, yet to me his +grisly aspect, from which I could not turn my eyes, became so fearful +that I could bear it no longer. + +I resolved to steal away from the company, which from the +insignificant part I played in it seemed to me an easy affair. I +proposed to myself to return to the city, to try my luck again on the +morrow with Mr. John, and if I could muster the necessary courage, +to question him about the singular gray man. Had I only had the good +fortune to escape so well! + +I had already actually succeeded in stealing through the rosary, and, +in descending the hill, found myself on a piece of lawn, when, fearing +to be encountered in crossing the grass out of the path, I cast an +inquiring glance round me. What was my terror to behold the man in the +gray coat behind me, and making toward me! In the next moment he took +off his hat before me, and bowed so low as no one had ever yet done to +me. There was no doubt but that he wished to address me, and, without +being rude, I could not prevent it. I also took off my hat; bowed +also; and stood there in the sun with bare head as if rooted to the +ground. I stared at him full of terror, and was like a bird which a +serpent has fascinated. He himself appeared very much embarrassed. +He raised not his eyes; again bowed repeatedly; drew nearer, and +addressed me with a soft, tremulous voice, almost in a tone of +supplication. + +"May I hope, sir, that you will pardon my boldness in venturing in so +unusual a manner to approach you, but I would ask a favor. Permit me +most condescendingly----" + +"But in God's name!" exclaimed I in my trepidation, "what can I do for +a man who--" we both started, and, as I believe, reddened. + +After a moment's silence, he again resumed: "During the short time +that I had the happiness to find myself near you, I have, sir, +many times--allow me to say it to you--really contemplated with +inexpressible admiration, the beautiful, beautiful, shadow which, as +it were, with a certain noble disdain, and without yourself remarking +it, you cast from you in the sunshine. The noble shadow at your feet +there. Pardon me the bold supposition, but possibly you might not be +indisposed to make this shadow over to me." + +He was silent, and a mill-wheel seemed to whirl round in my head. What +was I to make of this singular proposition to sell my own shadow? +He must be mad, thought I, and with an altered tone which was more +assimilated to that of his own humility, I answered thus: + +"Ha! ha! good friend, have not you then enough of your own shadow? I +take this for a business of a very singular sort--" + +He hastily interrupted me--"I have many things in my pocket which, +sir, might not appear worthless to you, and for this inestimable +shadow I hold the very highest price too small." + +It struck cold through me again as I was reminded of the pocket. +I knew not how I could have called him good friend. I resumed the +conversation, and sought, if possible, to set all right again by +excessive politeness. + +"But, sir, pardon your most humble servant; I do not understand your +meaning. How indeed could my shadow"--he interrupted me-- + +"I beg your permission only here on the spot to be allowed to take up +this noble shadow and put it in my pocket; how I shall do that, be my +care. On the other hand, as a testimony of my grateful acknowledgment +to you, I give you the choice of all the treasures which I carry in my +pocket--the genuine Spring-root, the Mandrake-root, the Change-penny, +the Rob-dollar, the Napkin of Roland's Page, a Mandrake-man, at your +own price. But these probably don't interest you--rather Fortunatus' +Wishing-cap newly and stoutly repaired, and a lucky-bag such as he +had!" + +"The Luck-purse of Fortunatus!" I exclaimed, interrupting him; and +great as my anxiety was, with that one word he had taken my whole mind +captive. A dizziness seized me, and double ducats seemed to glitter +before my eyes. + +"Honored Sir, will you do me the favor to view, and to make trial +of this purse?" He thrust his hand into his pocket, and drew out a +tolerably large, well-sewed purse of stout Corduan leather, with two +strong strings, and handed it to me. I plunged my hand into it, and +drew out ten gold pieces, and again ten, and again ten, and again ten. +I extended him eagerly my hand "Agreed! the business is done; for the +purse you have my shadow!" + +He closed with me; kneeled instantly down before me, and I beheld him, +with an admirable dexterity, gently loosen my shadow from top to toe +from the grass, lift it up, roll it together, fold it, and, finally, +pocket it. He arose, made me another obeisance, and retreated toward +the rosary. I fancied that I heard him there softly laughing to +himself; but I held the purse fast by the strings; all round me lay +the clear sunshine, and within me was yet no power of reflection. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +At length I came to myself, and hastened to quit the place where I had +nothing more to expect. In the first place I filled my pockets with +gold; then I secured the strings of the purse fast round my neck, and +concealed the purse itself in my bosom. I passed unobserved out of the +park, reached the highway and took the road to the city. As, sunk +in thought, I approached the gate, I heard a cry behind me--"Young +gentleman! eh! young gentleman! hear you!" I looked round, an old +woman called after me. "Do take care, sir, you have lost your shadow!" +"Thank you, good mother!" I threw her a gold piece for her well-meant +information, and stopped under the trees. + +At the city gate I was compelled to hear again from the +sentinel--"Where has the gentleman left his shadow?" And immediately +again from some women--"Jesus Maria! the poor fellow has no shadow!" +That began to irritate me, and I became especially careful not to walk +in the sun. This could not, however, be accomplished everywhere--for +instance, over the broad street which I next must cross, actually, as +mischief would have it, at the very moment that the boys came out +of school. A cursed hunch-backed rogue, I see him yet, spied out +instantly that I had no shadow. He proclaimed the fact with a loud +outcry to the whole assembled literary street youth of the suburb, +who began forthwith to criticise me, and to pelt me with mud. "Decent +people are accustomed to take their shadows with them, when they go +into the sunshine." To defend myself from them I threw whole handfuls +of gold amongst them and sprang into a hackney-coach, which some +compassionate soul procured for me. + +As soon as I found myself alone in the rolling carriage I began to +weep bitterly. The presentiment must already have arisen in me that, +far as gold on earth transcends in estimation merit and virtue, +so much higher than gold itself is the shadow valued; and as I had +earlier sacrificed wealth to conscience, I had now thrown away the +shadow for mere gold. What in the world could and would become of me! + +I was still greatly discomposed as the carriage stopped before my +old inn. I was horrified at the bare idea of entering that wretched +cock-loft. I ordered my things to be brought down; received my +miserable bundle with contempt, threw down some gold pieces, and +ordered the coachman to drive to the most fashionable hotel. The house +faced the north, and I had not the sun to fear. I dismissed the driver +with gold; caused the best front rooms to be assigned me, and shut +myself up in them as quickly as I could! + +What thinkest thou I now began? Oh, my dear Chamisso, to confess it +even to thee makes me blush. I drew the unlucky purse from my bosom, +and with a kind of rage which, like a rushing conflagration, grew in +me with self-increasing growth, I extracted gold, and gold, and gold, +and ever more gold, and strewed it on the floor, and strode amongst +it, and made it ring again, and, feeding my poor heart on the splendor +and the sound, flung continually more metal to metal, till in my +weariness I sank down on the rich heap, and, rioting thereon, rolled +and reveled upon it. So passed the day, the evening. I opened not my +door; the night found me lying on my gold, and then sleep overcame me. + +I dreamed of thee. I seemed to stand behind the glass-door of thy +little room, and to see thee sitting then at thy work-table, between +a skeleton and a bundle of dried plants. Before thee lay open Haller, +Humboldt, and Linnaeus; on thy sofa a volume of Goethe and "The Magic +Ring." I regarded thee long, and everything in thy room, and then thee +again. Thou didst not move, thou drewest no breath--thou wert dead! + +I awoke. It appeared still to be very early. My watch stood. I was +sore all over; thirsty and hungry too; I had taken nothing since the +morning before. I pushed from me with loathing and indignation the +gold on which I had before sated my foolish heart. In my vexation +I knew not what I should do with it. It must not lie there. I tried +whether the purse would swallow it again--but no! None of my windows +opened upon the sea. I found myself compelled laboriously to drag it +to a great cupboard which stood in a cabinet, and there to pile it. I +left only some handfuls of it lying. When I had finished the work, I +threw myself exhausted into an easy chair, and waited for the stirring +of the people in the house. As soon as possible I ordered food to be +brought, and the landlord to come to me. + +I fixed in consultation with this man the future arrangements of +my house. He recommended for the services about my person a certain +Bendel, whose honest and intelligent physiognomy immediately +captivated me. He it was whose attachment has since accompanied me +consolingly through the wretchedness of life, and has helped me +to support my gloomy lot. I spent the whole day in my room among +masterless servants, shoemakers, tailors, and tradespeople. I fitted +myself out, and purchased besides a great many jewels and valuables +for the sake of getting rid of some of the vast heap of hoarded-up +gold; but it seemed to me as if it were impossible to diminish it. + +In the meantime I brooded over my situation in the most agonizing +doubts. I dared not venture a step out of my doors, and at evening I +caused forty waxlights to be lit in my room before I issued from +the shade. I thought with horror on the terrible scene with the +schoolboys, yet I resolved, much courage as it demanded, once more to +make a trial of public opinion. The nights were then moonlight. Late +in the evening I threw on a wide cloak, pressed my hat over my eyes, +and stole, trembling like a criminal, out of the house. I stepped +first out of the shade in whose protection I had arrived so far, in +a remote square, into the full moonlight, determined to learn my fate +out of the mouths of the passers-by. + +Spare me, dear friend, the painful repetition of all that I had to +endure. The women often testified the deepest compassion with which +I inspired them, declarations which no less transpierced me than the +mockery of the youth and the proud contempt of the men, especially +of those fat, well fed fellows, who themselves cast a broad shadow. +A lovely and sweet girl, who, as it seemed, accompanied her parents, +while these discreetly only looked before their feet, turned by chance +her flashing eyes upon me. She was obviously terrified; she observed +my want of a shadow, let fall her veil over her beautiful countenance, +and dropping her head, passed in silence. + +I could bear it no longer. Briny streams started from my eyes, and, +cut to the heart, I staggered back into the shade. I was obliged to +support myself against the houses to steady my steps and wearily and +late reached my dwelling. + +I spent a sleepless night. The next morning it was my first care to +have the man in the gray coat everywhere sought after. Possibly I +might succeed in finding him again, and how joyful if he repented of +the foolish bargain as heartily as I did! I ordered Bendel to me, for +he appeared to possess address and tact; I described to him exactly +the man in whose possession lay a treasure without which my life was +only a misery. I told him the time, the place in which I had seen him; +I described to him all who had been present, and added, moreover, this +token: he should particularly inquire after a Dollond's telescope; +after a gold interwoven Turkish carpet; after a splendid +pleasure-tent; and, finally, after the black chargers, whose story, +we knew not how, was connected with that of the mysterious man, who +seemed of no consideration amongst them, and whose appearance had +destroyed the quiet and happiness of my life. + +When I had done speaking I fetched out gold, such a load that I was +scarcely able to carry it, and added thereto precious stones and +jewels of a far greater value. "Bendel," said I, "these level many +ways, and make easy many things which appeared quite impossible; don't +be stingy with it, as I am not, but go and rejoice thy master with the +intelligence on which his only hope depends." + +He went. He returned late and sorrowful. None of the people of Mr. +John, none of his guests, and he had spoken with all, were able, in +the remotest degree, to recollect the man in the gray coat. The new +telescope was there, and no one knew whence it had come; the carpet, +the tent were still there spread and pitched on the selfsame hill; +the servants boasted of the affluence of their master, and no one +knew whence these new valuables had come to him. He himself took his +pleasure in them, and did not trouble himself because he did not know +whence he had them. The young gentlemen had the horses, which they had +ridden, in their stables, and they praised the liberality of Mr. John +who on that day made them a present of them. Thus much was clear from +the circumstantial relation of Bendel, whose active zeal and able +proceeding, although with such fruitless result, received from me +their merited commendation. I gloomily motioned him to leave me alone. + +"I have," began he again, "given my master an account of the matter +which was most important to him. I have yet a message to deliver which +a person gave me whom I met at the door as I went out on the business +in which I have been so unfortunate. The very words of the man were +these: 'Tell Mr. Peter Schlemihl he will not see me here again, as I +am going over sea, and a favorable wind calls me at this moment to +the harbor. But in a year and a day I will have the honor to seek +him myself, and then to propose to him another and probably to him +agreeable transaction. Present my most humble compliments to him, +and assure him of my thanks.' I asked him who he was, but he replied +that your honor knew him already." + +"What was the man's appearance?" cried I, filled with foreboding, and +Bendel sketched me the man in the gray coat, trait by trait, word for +word, as he had accurately described in his former relation the man +after whom he had inquired. + +"Unhappy one!" I exclaimed, wringing my hands--"that was the very +man!" and there fell, as it were, scales from his eyes. + +"Yes! it was he, it was, positively!" cried he in horror, "and +I, blind and imbecile wretch, have not recognized him, have not +recognized him, and have betrayed my master!" + +He broke out into violent weeping; heaped the bitterest reproaches +on himself, and the despair in which he was inspired even me with +compassion. I spoke comfort to him, assured him repeatedly that I +entertained not the slightest doubt of his fidelity, and sent him +instantly to the port, if possible to follow the traces of this +singular man. But in the morning a great number of ships which the +contrary winds had detained in the harbor, had run out, bound to +different climes and different shores, and the gray man had vanished +as tracelessly as a dream. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Of what avail are wings to him who is fast bound in iron fetters? He +is compelled only the more fearfully to despair. I lay, like Faffner +by his treasure, far from every consolation, starving in the midst +of my gold. But my heart was not in it; on the contrary, I cursed it, +because I saw myself through it cut off from all life. Brooding over +my gloomy secret alone, I trembled before the meanest of my servants, +whom at the same time I was forced to envy, for he had a shadow; he +might show himself in the sun. I wore away days and nights in solitary +sorrow in my chamber, and anguish gnawed at my heart. + +There was another who pined away before my eyes; my faithful Bendel +never ceased to torture himself with silent reproaches, that he +had betrayed the trust reposed in him by his master, and had not +recognized him after whom he was dispatched, and with whom he must +believe that my sorrowful fate was intimately interwoven. I could not +lay the fault to his charge; I recognized in the event the mysterious +nature of the Unknown. + +That I might leave nothing untried, I one time sent Bendel with a +valuable brilliant ring to the most celebrated painter of the city, +and begged that he would pay me a visit. He came. I ordered my people +to retire, closed the door, seated myself by the man, and, after I had +praised his art, I came with a heavy heart to the business, causing +him before that to promise the strictest secrecy. + +"Mr. Professor," said I, "could not you, think you, paint a false +shadow for one who, by the most unlucky chance in the world, has +become deprived of his own?" + +"You mean a personal shadow?" + +"That is precisely my meaning"-- + +"But," continued he, "through what awkwardness, through what +negligence, could he then lose his proper shadow?" + +"How it happened," replied I, "is now of very little consequence, but +thus far I may say," added I, lying shamelessly to him; "in Russia, +whither he made a journey last winter, in an extraordinary cold his +shadow froze so fast to the ground that he could by no means loose it +again." + +"The false shadow that I could paint him," replied the professor, +"would only be such a one as by the slightest movement he might lose +again, especially a person, who, as appears by your relation, has so +little adhesion to his own native shadow. He who has no shadow, let +him keep out of the sunshine--that is the safest and most sensible +thing for him." He arose and withdrew, casting at me a trans-piercing +glance which mine could not support. I sunk back in my seat, and +covered my face with my hands. + +Thus Bendel found me, as he at length entered. He saw the grief of his +master, and was desirous silently and reverently to withdraw. I looked +up, I succumbed under the burden of my trouble; I must communicate it. + +"Bendel!" cried I, "Bendel, thou only one who seest my affliction and +respectest it, seekest not to pry into it, but appearest silently and +kindly to sympathize, come to me, Bendel, and be the nearest to my +heart; I have not locked from thee the treasure of my gold, neither +will I lock from thee the treasure of my grief. Bendel, forsake me +not! Bendel, thou beholdest me rich, liberal, kind. Thou imaginest +that the world ought to honor me, and thou seest me fly the world, and +hide myself from it. Bendel, the world has passed judgment, and cast +me from it, and perhaps thou too wilt turn from me when thou knowest +my fearful secret. Bendel, I am rich, liberal, kind, but--O God!--I +have no shadow!" + +"No shadow!" cried the good youth with horror, and the bright +tears gushed from his eyes. "Woe is me, that I was born to serve a +shadowless master!" He was silent, and I held my face buried in my +hands. + +"Bendel," added I, at length, tremblingly--"now hast thou my +confidence, and now canst thou betray it--go forth and testify against +me?" He appeared to be in a heavy conflict with himself; at length, he +flung himself before me and seized my hand, which he bathed with his +tears. + +"No!" exclaimed he, "think the world as it will, I cannot, and will +not, on account of a shadow, abandon my kind master; I will act +justly, and not with policy. I will continue with you, lend you my +shadow, help you when I can, and when I cannot, weep with you." I fell +on his neck, astonished at such unusual sentiment, for I was convinced +that he did it not for gold. + +From that time my fate and my mode of life were in some degree +changed. It is indescribable how providently Bendel continued to +conceal my defect. He was everywhere before me and with me; foreseeing +everything, hitting on contrivances, and, where unforeseen danger +threatened, covering me quickly with his shadow, since he was taller +and bulkier than I. Thus I ventured myself again among men, and began +to play a part in the world. I was obliged, it is true, to assume many +peculiarities and humors, but such become the rich, and, so long +as the truth continued to be concealed, I enjoyed all the honor and +respect which were paid to my wealth. I looked more calmly forward to +the promised visit of the mysterious unknown, at the end of the year +and the day. + +I felt, indeed, that I must not remain long in a place where I had +once been seen without a shadow, and where I might easily be betrayed. +Perhaps I yet thought too much of the manner in which I had introduced +myself to Thomas John, and it was a mortifying recollection. I would +therefore here merely make an experiment, to present myself with more +ease and self-reliance elsewhere, but that now occurred which held me +a long time riveted to my vanity, for there it is in the man that the +anchor bites the firmest ground. + +Even the lovely Fanny, whom I in this place again encountered, honored +me with some notice without recollecting ever to have seen me before; +for I now had wit and sense. As I spoke, people listened, and I could +not, for the life of me, comprehend myself how I had arrived at the +art of maintaining and engrossing so easily the conversation. The +impression which I perceived that I had made on the fair one, made +of me just what she desired--a fool; and I thenceforward followed her +through shade and twilight wherever I could. I was only so far vain +that I wished to make her vain of myself, and found it impossible, +even with the very best intentions, to force the intoxication from my +head to my heart. + +But why repeat to thee the absolutely every-day story at length? Thou +thyself hast often related it to me of other honorable people. To the +old, well-known play in which I good-naturedly undertook a worn-out +part, there came in truth to her and me, and everybody, unexpectedly a +most peculiarly thought-out catastrophe. + +As, according to my wont, I had assembled on a beautiful evening +a party in a garden, I wandered with the lady, arm in arm, at some +distance from the other guests, and exerted myself to strike out +pretty speeches for her. She cast her eyes down modestly, and returned +gently the pressure of my hand, when suddenly the moon broke through +the clouds behind us, and--she saw only her own shadow thrown forward +before her! She started and glanced wildly at me, then again on the +earth, seeking my shadow with her eyes, and what passed within her +painted itself so singularly on her countenance that I should have +burst into a loud laugh if it had not itself run ice-cold over my +back. + +I let her fall from my arms in a swoon, shot like an arrow through the +terrified guests, reached the door, flung myself into the first chaise +which I saw on the stand, and drove back to the city, where this time, +to my cost, I had left the circumspect Bendel. He was terrified as +he saw me; one word revealed to him all. Post horses were immediately +fetched. I took only one of my people with me, an arrant knave, called +Rascal, who had contrived to make himself necessary to me by his +cleverness and who could suspect nothing of today's occurrence. That +night I left upward of thirty miles behind me. Bendel remained behind +me to discharge my establishment, to pay money, and to bring me what +I most required. When he overtook me next day, I threw myself into his +arms, and swore to him never again to run into the like folly, but in +future to be more cautious. We continued our journey without pause, +over the frontiers and the mountains, and it was not till we began to +descend and had placed those lofty bulwarks between us and our former +unlucky abode, that I allowed myself to be persuaded to rest from +the fatigues I had undergone, in a neighboring and little frequented +Bathing-place. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +I must pass in my relation hastily over a time in which how gladly +would I linger, could I but conjure up the living spirit of it with +the recollection. But the color which vivified it, and alone can +vivify it again, is extinguished in me; and when I seek in my bosom +what then so mightily animated it, the grief and the joy, the innocent +illusion--then do I vainly smite a rock in which no living spring now +dwells, and the god is departed from me. How changed does this past +time now appear to me! I would act in the watering place an heroic +character, ill studied, and myself a novice on the boards, and my gaze +was lured from my part by a pair of blue eyes. The parents, deluded by +the play, offer everything only to make the business quickly secure; +and the poor farce closes in mockery. And that is all, all! That +presents itself now to me so absurd and commonplace, and yet it is +terrible, that that can thus appear to me which then so richly, so +luxuriantly, swelled my bosom. Mina! as I wept at losing thee, so weep +I still to have lost thee also in myself. Am I then become so old? Oh, +melancholy reason! Oh, but for one pulsation of that time! one moment +of that illusion! But no! alone on the high waste sea of thy bitter +flood! and long out of the last cup of champagne the elfin has +vanished! + +I had sent forward Bendel with some purses of gold to procure for +me in the little town a dwelling adapted to my needs. He had +there scattered about much money, and expressed himself somewhat +indefinitely respecting the distinguished stranger whom he served, +for I would not be named, and that filled the good people with +extraordinary fancies. As soon as my house was ready Bendel returned +to conduct me thither. We set out. + +About three miles from the place, on a sunny plain, our progress was +obstructed by a gay festal throng. The carriage stopped. Music, sound +of bells, discharge of cannon, were heard; a loud _vivat_! rent the +air; before the door of the carriage appeared, clad in white, a troop +of damsels of extraordinary beauty, but who were eclipsed by one in +particular, as the stars of night by the sun. She stepped forth +from the midst of her sisters; the tall and delicate figure kneeled +blushing before me, and presented to me on a silken cushion a garland +woven of laurel, olive branches, and roses, while she uttered some +words about majesty, veneration and love, which I did not understand, +but whose bewitching silver tone intoxicated my ear and heart. It +seemed as if the heavenly apparition had some time previously passed +before me. The chorus struck in, and sung the praises of a good king +and the happiness of his people. + +And this scene, my dear friend, in the face of the sun! She kneeled +still only two paces from me, and I, without a shadow, could not +spring over the gulf, could not also fall on the knee before the +angel! Oh! what would I then have given for a shadow! I was compelled +to hide my shame, my anguish, my despair, deep in the bottom of my +carriage. At length Bendel recollected himself on my behalf. He leaped +out of the carriage on the other side. I called him back, and gave +him out of my jewel-case, which lay at hand, a splendid diamond crown, +which had been made to adorn the brows of the lovely Fanny! He stepped +forward and spoke in the name of his master, who could not and would +not receive such tokens of homage; there must be some mistake; but the +people of the city should be thanked for their good-will. As he said +this, he took up the proffered wreath, and laid the brilliant coronet +in its place. He then respectfully extended his hand to the lovely +maiden, that she might arise, and dismissed, with a sign, clergy, +magistrates, and all the deputations. No one else was allowed to +approach. He ordered the throng to divide and make way for the horses, +sprang again into the carriage, and on we went at full gallop, +through a festive archway of foliage and flowers toward the city. The +discharges of cannon continued. The carriage stopped before my house. +I sprang hastily in at the door, dividing the crowd which the desire +to see me had collected. The mob hurrahed under my window, and I let +double ducats rain out of it. In the evening the city was voluntarily +illuminated. + +And yet I did not at all know what all this could mean, and who I was +supposed to be. I sent out Rascal to make inquiry. He brought word to +this effect: That the people had received reliable intelligence that +the good king of Prussia traveled through the country under the name +of a count; that my adjutant had been recognized, thus betraying +himself and me; and, finally, how great the joy was as they became +certain that they really had me in the place. They now, 'tis true, +saw clearly that I evidently desired to maintain the strictest +_incognito_, and how very wrong it had been to attempt so +importunately to lift the veil. But I had resented it so graciously, +so kindly--I should certainly pardon their good-heartedness. + +The thing appeared so amusing to the rogue that he did his best, by +reproving words, to strengthen, for the present, the good folk in +their belief. He gave a very comical report of all this to me; and +as he found that it diverted me, he made a joke to me of his own +wickedness. Shall I confess it? It flattered me, even by such means, +to be taken for that honored head. + +I commanded a feast to be prepared for the evening of the next day +beneath the trees which overshadowed the open space before my house, +and the whole city to be invited to it. The mysterious power of +my purse, the exertions of Bendel, and the inventiveness of Rascal +succeeded in triumphing over time itself. It is really astonishing how +richly and beautifully everything was arranged in those few hours. The +splendor and abundance which exhibited themselves, and the ingenious +lighting up, so admirably contrived that I felt myself quite secure, +left me nothing to desire. I could not but praise my servants. + +The evening grew dark; the guests appeared, and were presented to me. +Nothing more was said about Majesty; I was styled with deep reverence +and obeisance, Count. What was to be done? I allowed the title to +stand, and remained from that hour Count Peter. In the midst of +festive multitudes my soul yearned alone after one. She entered +late--she was and wore the crown. She followed modestly her parents, +and seemed not to know that she was the loveliest of all. They were +presented to me as Mr. Forest-master, his lady and their daughter. +I found many agreeable and obliging things to say to the old people; +before the daughter I stood like a rebuked boy, and could not bring +out one word. I begged her, at length, with a faltering tone, to +honor this feast by assuming the office whose insignia she graced. She +entreated with blushes and a moving look to be excused; but blushing +still more than herself in her presence, I paid her as her first +subject my homage, with a most profound respect, and the hint of the +Count became to all the guests a command which every one with emulous +joy hastened to obey. Majesty, innocence, and grace presided in +alliance with beauty over a rapturous feast. Mina's happy parents +believed their child thus exalted only in honor of them. I myself was +in an indescribable intoxication. I caused all the jewels which yet +remained of those which I had formerly purchased, in order to get rid +of burthensome gold, all the pearls, all the precious stones, to +be laid in two covered dishes, and at the table, in the name of +the queen, to be distributed round to her companions and to all +the ladies. Gold, in the meantime, was incessantly strewed over the +encompassing ropes among the exulting people. + +Bendel, the next morning, revealed to me in confidence that the +suspicion which he had long entertained of Rascal's honesty was now +become certainty--that he had yesterday embezzled whole purses of +gold. "Let us permit," replied I, "the poor scoundrel to enjoy +the petty plunder. I spend willingly on everybody, why not on him? +Yesterday he and all the fresh people you have brought me served me +honestly; they helped me joyfully to celebrate a joyful feast." + +There was no further mention of it. Rascal remained the first of my +servants, but Bendel was my friend and my confidant. The latter was +accustomed to regard my wealth as inexhaustible, and he pried not +after its sources; entering into my humor, he assisted me rather to +discover opportunities to exercise it, and to spend my gold. Of that +unknown one, that pale sneak, he knew only this, that I could alone +through him be absolved from the curse which weighed on me; and that +I feared him, on whom my sole hope reposed. That, for the rest, I was +convinced that he could discover me anywhere; I him nowhere; and that +therefore awaiting the promised day, I abandoned every vain inquiry. + +The magnificence of my feast, and my behavior at it, held at first +the credulous inhabitants of the city firmly to their preconceived +opinion. True, it was soon stated in the newspapers that the whole +story of the journey of the king of Prussia had been a mere groundless +rumor: but a king I now was, and must, spite of everything, a king +remain, and truly one of the most rich and royal who had ever existed; +only people did not rightly know what king. The world has never had +reason to complain of the scarcity of monarchs, at least in our time. +The good people who had never seen any of them pitched with equal +correctness first on one and then on another; Count Peter still +remained who he was. + +At one time appeared amongst the guests at the Bath a tradesman, who +had made himself bankrupt in order to enrich himself; and who enjoyed +universal esteem, and had a broad though somewhat pale shadow. The +property which he had scraped together he resolved to lay out in +ostentation, and it even occurred to him to enter into rivalry with +me. I had recourse to my purse, and soon brought the poor devil to +such a pass that, in order to save his credit, he was obliged to +become bankrupt a second time, and hasten over the frontier. Thus +I got rid of him. In this neighborhood I made many idlers and +good-for-nothing fellows. + +With all the royal splendor and expenditure by which I made all +succumb to me, I still in my own house lived very simply and retired. +I had established the strictest circumspection as a rule. No one +except Bendel, under any pretence whatever, was allowed to enter the +rooms which I inhabited. So long as the sun shone I kept myself shut +up there, and it was said "the Count is employed with his cabinet." +With this employment numerous couriers stood in connection, whom I, +for every trifle, sent out and received. I received company in the +evening only under my trees, or in my hall arranged and lighted +according to Bendel's plan. When I went out, on which occasions it +was necessary that I should be constantly watched by the Argus eyes +of Bendel, it was only to the Forester's Garden, for the sake of one +alone; for my love was the innermost heart of my life. + +Oh, my good Chamisso! I will hope that thou hast not yet forgotten +what love is! I leave much unmentioned here to thee. Mina was really +an amiable, kind, good child. I had taken her whole imagination +captive. She could not, in her humility, conceive how she could +be worthy that I should alone have fixed my regard on her; and she +returned love for love with all the youthful power of an innocent +heart. She loved like a woman, offering herself wholly up; +self-forgetting; living wholly and solely for him who was her life; +regardless if she herself perished; that is to say--she really loved. + +But I--oh what terrible hours--terrible and yet worthy that I should +wish them back again--have I often wept on Bendel's bosom, when, +after the first unconscious intoxication, I recollected myself, looked +sharply into myself--I, without a shadow, with knavish selfishness +destroying this angel, this pure soul which I had deceived and stolen. +Then did I resolve to reveal myself to her; then did I swear with a +most passionate oath to tear myself from her, and to fly; then did +I burst out into tears, and concert with Bendel how in the evening I +should visit her in the Forester's garden. + +At other times I flattered myself with great expectations from the +rapidly approaching visit of the gray man, and wept again when I had +in vain tried to believe in it. I had calculated the day on which I +expected again to see the fearful one; for he had said in a year and a +day; and I believed his word. + +The parents, good honorable old people, who loved their only child +extremely, were amazed at the connection, as it already stood, and +they knew not what to do in it. Earlier they could not have believed +that Count Peter could think only of their child; but now he really +loved her and was beloved again. The mother was probably vain enough +to believe in the probability of a union, and to seek for it; the +sound masculine understanding of the father did not give way to such +overstretched imaginations. Both were persuaded of the purity of my +love; they could do nothing more than pray for their child. + +I have laid my hand on a letter from Mina of this date, which I still +retain. Yes, this is her own writing. I transcribe it for thee: + +"I am a weak silly maiden, and cannot believe that my beloved, because +I love him dearly, dearly, will make the poor girl unhappy. Ah! thou +art so kind, so inexpressibly kind, but do not misunderstand me. Thou +shalt sacrifice nothing for me, desire to sacrifice nothing for me. +Oh God! I should hate myself if thou didst! No--thou hast made me +immeasurably happy; hast taught me to love thee. Away! I know my own +fate. Count Peter belongs not to me, he belongs to the world. I will +be proud when I hear--'that was he, and that was he again--and that +has he accomplished; there they have worshipped him, and there they +have deified him!' See, when I think of this, then am I angry with +thee that with a simple child thou canst forget thy high destiny. +Away! or the thought will make me miserable! I--oh! who through thee +am so happy, so blessed! Have I not woven, too, an olive branch and +a rosebud into thy life, as into the wreath which I was allowed to +present to thee? I have thee in my heart, my beloved; fear not to +leave me. I will die oh! so happy, so ineffably happy through thee!" + +Thou canst imagine how the words must cut through my heart. I +explained to her that I was not what people believed me, that I was +only a rich but infinitely miserable man. That a curse rested on me, +which must be the only secret between us, since I was not yet without +hope that it should be solved. That this was the poison of my days; +that I might drag her down with me into the gulf--she who was the sole +light, the sole happiness, the sole heart of my life. Then wept she +again, because I was unhappy. Ah, she was so loving, so kind! To spare +me but one tear, she, and with what transport, would have sacrificed +herself without reserve! + +She was, however, far from rightly comprehending my words; she +conceived in me some prince on whom had fallen a heavy ban, some high +and honored head, and her imagination amidst heroic pictures limned +forth her lover gloriously. + +Once I said to her--"Mina, the last day in the next month may change +my fate and decide it--if not I must die, for I will not make thee +unhappy." Weeping she hid her head in my bosom. "If thy fortune +changes, let me know that thou art happy. I have no claim on thee. Art +thou wretched, bind me to thy wretchedness, that I may help thee to +bear it." + +"Maiden! maiden! take it back, that quick word, that foolish word +which escaped thy lips. And knowest thou this wretchedness? Knowest +thou this curse? Knowest who thy lover--what he? Seest thou not that +I convulsively shrink together, and have a secret from thee?" She fell +sobbing to my feet, and repeated with oaths her entreaty. + +I announced to the Forest-master, who entered, that it was my +intention on the first of the approaching month to solicit the hand of +his daughter. I fixed precisely this time, because in the interim many +things might occur which might influence my fortunes; but I insisted +that I was unchangeable in my love to his daughter. + +The good man was quite startled as he heard such words out of the +mouth of Count Peter. He fell on my neck, and again became quite +ashamed to have thus forgotten himself. Then he began to doubt, to +weigh, and to inquire. He spoke of dowry, security, and the future of +his beloved child. I thanked him for reminding me of these things. I +told him that I desired to settle down in this neighborhood where I +seemed to be beloved, and to lead a care-free life. I begged him to +purchase the finest estates that the country had to offer, in the name +of his daughter, and to charge the cost to me. A father could, in such +matter, best serve a lover. It gave him enough to do, for everywhere +a stranger was before him, and he could only purchase for about a +million. + +My thus employing him was, at the bottom, an innocent scheme to remove +him to a distance, and I had employed him similarly before; for I +must confess that he was rather wearisome. The good mother was, on the +contrary, somewhat deaf, and not, like him, jealous of the honor of +entertaining the Count. + +The mother joined us. The happy people pressed me to stay longer with +them that evening--I dared not remain another minute. I saw already +the rising moon glimmer on the horizon--my time was up. + +The next evening I went again to the Forester's garden. I had thrown +my cloak over my shoulders and pulled my hat over my eyes. I advanced +to Mina. As she looked up and beheld me, she gave an involuntary +start, and there stood again clear before my soul the apparition of +that terrible night when I showed myself in the moonlight without a +shadow. It was actually she! But had she also recognized me again? She +was silent and thoughtful; on my bosom lay a hundred-weight pressure. +I arose from my seat. She threw herself silently weeping on my bosom. +I went. + +I now found her often in tears. It grew darker and darker in my soul; +the parents swam only in supreme felicity; the faith-day passed on sad +and sullen as a thunder-cloud. The eve of the day was come. I could +scarcely breathe. I had in precaution filled several chests with gold. +I watched the midnight hour approach--It struck. + +I now sat, my eye fixed on the fingers of the clock, counting the +seconds, the minutes, like dagger-strokes. At every noise which +arose, I started up; the day broke. The leaden hours crowded one upon +another. It was noon--evening--night; as the clock fingers sped on, +hope withered; it struck eleven and nothing appeared; the last minutes +of the last hour fell, and nothing appeared. It struck the first +stroke--the last stroke of the twelfth hour, and I sank hopeless +and in boundless tears upon my bed. On the morrow I should--forever +shadowless, solicit the hand of my beloved. Toward morning an anxious +sleep pressed down my eyelids. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +It was still early morning when voices, which were raised in my +ante-chamber in violent dispute, awoke me. I listened. Bendel forbade +entrance; Rascal swore high and hotly that he would receive no +commands from his equal, and insisted on forcing his way into my room. +The good Bendel warned him that such words, came they to my ear, would +turn him out of his most advantageous service. Rascal threatened to +lay hands on him if he any longer obstructed his entrance. + +I had half dressed myself. I flung the door wrathfully open, and +advanced to Rascal--"What wantest thou, villain?" He stepped two +strides backward, and replied quite coolly: "To request you most +humbly, Count, for once to allow me to see your shadow--the sun shines +at this moment so beautifully in the court." + +I was struck as with thunder. It was some time before I could recover +my speech. "How can a servant toward his master"--he interrupted very +calmly my speech. + +"A servant may be a very honorable man, and not be willing to serve +a shadowless master--I demand my discharge." It was necessary to try +other chords. "But honest, dear Rascal, who has put the unlucky idea +into your head? How canst thou believe--?" + +He proceeded in the same tone: "People will assert that you have +no shadow--and, in short, you show me your shadow, or give me my +discharge." + +Bendel, pale and trembling, but more discreet than I, gave me a sign. +I sought refuge in the all-silencing gold; but that too had lost +its power. He threw it at my feet. "From a shadowless man I accept +nothing!" He turned his back upon me, and went most deliberately out +of the room with his hat upon his head, and whistling a tune. I stood +there with Bendel as one turned to stone, thoughtless, motionless, +gazing after him. + +Heavily sighing and with death in my heart, I prepared myself at last +to redeem my promise, and, like a criminal before his judge, to appear +in the Forest-master's garden. I alighted in the dark arbor, which was +named after me, and where they would be sure also this time to await +me. The mother met me, care-free and joyous. Mina sat there, pale and +lovely as the first snow which often in the autumn kisses the +last flowers and then instantly dissolves into bitter water. The +Forest-master went agitatedly to and fro, a written paper in his +hand, and appeared to force down many things in himself which painted +themselves with rapidly alternating flushes and paleness on his +otherwise immovable countenance. He came up to me as I entered, and +with frequently choked words begged to speak with me alone. The path +in which he invited me to follow him, led us toward an open, sunny +part of the garden. I sank speechless on a seat, and then followed a +long silence which even the good mother dared not interrupt. + +The Forest-master raged continually with unequal steps to and fro in +the arbor, and, suddenly halting before me, glanced on the paper which +he held, and demanded of me with a searching look-- + +"May not, Count, a certain Peter Schlemihl be not quite unknown +to you?" I was silent. "A man of superior character and singular +attainments--" He paused for an answer. + +"And suppose I were the same man?" + +"Who," added he vehemently--"has, by some means, lost his shadow!" + +"Oh, my foreboding, my foreboding!" exclaimed Mina. "Yes, I have long +known it, he has no shadow;" and she flung herself into the arms of +her mother, who, terrified, clasped her convulsively, and upbraided +her that to her own hurt she had kept to herself such a secret. But +she, like Arethusa, was changed into a fountain of tears, which at the +sound of my voice flowed still more copiously and at my approach burst +forth in torrents. + +"And you," again grimly began the Forest-master, "and you, with +unparalleled impudence, have made no scruple to deceive these and +myself, and you give out that you love her whom you brought into this +predicament. See, there, how she weeps and writhes! Oh, horrible! +horrible!" + +I had to such a degree lost my composure that, talking like one +crazed, I began--"And, after all, a shadow is nothing but a shadow; +one can do very well without that, and it is not worth while to make +such a riot about it." But I felt so sharply the baselessness of what +I was saying that I stopped of myself, without his deigning me an +answer, and I then added--"What one has lost at one time may be found +again at another!" + +He fiercely rebuked me "Confess to me, sir, confess to me, how became +you deprived of your shadow!" + +I was compelled again to lie. "A rude fellow one day trod so heavily +on my shadow that he rent a great hole in it. I have only sent it to +be mended, for money can do much, and I was to have received it back +yesterday." + +"Good, sir, very good!" replied the Forest-master. "You solicit my +daughter's hand; others do the same. I have, as her father, to care +for her. I give you three days in which you may seek for a shadow. If +you appear before me within these three days with a good, well-fitting +shadow, you shall be welcome to me; but on the fourth day--I tell you +plainly--my daughter is the wife of another." + +I would yet attempt to speak a word to Mina, but she clung, sobbing +violently, only closer to her mother's breast, who silently motioned +me to withdraw. I reeled away, and the world seemed to close itself +behind me. + +Escaped from Bendel's affectionate oversight, I traversed in erring +course woods and fields. The perspiration of my agony dropped from my +brow, a hollow groaning convulsed my bosom, madness raged within me. + +I know not how long this had continued, when, on a sunny heath, I felt +myself plucked by the sleeve. I stood still and looked round--it was +the man in the gray coat, who seemed to have run himself quite out of +breath in pursuit of me. He immediately began: + +"I had announced myself for today, but you could not wait the time. +There is nothing amiss, however, yet. You consider the matter, receive +your shadow again in exchange, which is at your service, and turn +immediately back. You shall be welcome in the Forest-master's garden; +the whole has been only a joke. Rascal, who has betrayed you, and who +seeks the hand of your bride, I will take charge of; the fellow is +ripe." + +I stood there as if in a dream. "Announced for today?" I counted over +again the time--he was right. I had constantly miscalculated a day. +I sought with the right hand in my bosom for my purse; he guessed my +meaning, and stepped two paces backwards. + +"No, Count, that is in too good hands, keep you that." I stared at +him with eyes of inquiring wonder, and he proceeded: "I request only a +trifle, as memento. You be so good as to set your name to this paper." +On the parchment stood the words: + +"By virtue of this my signature, I make over my soul to the holder of +this, after its natural separation from the body." + +I gazed with speechless amazement, alternately at the writing and the +gray unknown. Meanwhile, with a new-cut quill he had taken up a +drop of blood which flowed from a fresh thorn-scratch on my hand and +presented it to me. + +"Who are you, after all?" at length I asked him. + +"What does it matter?" he replied. "And is it not plainly written on +me? A poor devil, a sort of learned man and doctor, who, in return +for precious arts, receives from his friends poor thanks, and, for +himself, has no other amusement on earth but to make his little +experiments.--But, however, sign. To the right there--PETER +SCHLEMIHL." + +I shook my head, and said: "Pardon me, sir, I do not sign that." + +"Not?" replied he, in amaze; "and why not?" + +"It seems to me to a certain degree serious to stake my soul on a +shadow." + +"So, so," repeated he, "serious!" and he laughed almost in my face. +"And, if I might venture to ask, what sort of a thing is that soul of +yours? Have you ever seen it? And what do you think of doing with it +when you are dead? Be glad that you have found an amateur who in your +lifetime is willing to pay you for the bequest of this _x_, of this +galvanic power, or polarized Activity, or what-ever-this silly thing +may be, with something actual; that is to say, with your real shadow, +through which you may arrive at the hand of your beloved and at the +accomplishment of all your desires. Will you rather push forth, and +deliver up that poor young creature to that low bred scoundrel Rascal? +No, you must witness that with your own eyes. Here, I lend you the +magic-cap"--he drew it from his pocket--"and we will proceed unseen to +the Forester's garden." + +I must confess that I was excessively ashamed of being derided by this +man. I detested him from the bottom of my heart; and I believe that +this personal antipathy withheld me, more than principle or prejudice, +from purchasing my shadow, essential as it was, by the required +signature. The thought also was intolerable to me of making the +excursion which he proposed, in his company. To see this abhorred +sneak, this mocking kobold, step between me and my beloved, two torn +and bleeding hearts, revolted my innermost feeling. I regarded what +was past as predestined, and my wretchedness as unchangeable, and +turning to the man, I said to him-- + +"Sir, I have sold you my shadow for this in itself most excellent +purse, and I have sufficiently repented of it. If the bargain can be +broken off, then in God's name--!" He shook his head, and made a very +gloomy face. I continued: "I will then sell you nothing further of +mine, even for this offered price of my shadow; and, therefore, I +shall sign nothing. From this you may understand, that the muffling-up +to which you invite me must be much more amusing for you than for me. +Excuse me, therefore; and as it cannot now be otherwise, let us part." + +"It grieves me, Monsieur Schlemihl, that you obstinately decline the +business which I propose to you as a friend. Perhaps another time I +may be more fortunate. Till our speedy meeting again!--Apropos: Permit +me yet to show you that the things which I purchase I by no means +suffer to grow moldy, but honorably preserve, and that they are well +taken care of by me." + +With that he drew my shadow out of his pocket and with a dexterous +throw unfolding it on the heath, spread it out on the sunny side of +his feet, so that he walked between two attendant shadows, his own +and mine, for mine must equally obey him and accommodate itself to and +follow all his movements. + +When I once saw my poor shadow again, after so long an absence, and +beheld it degraded to so vile a service, whilst I, on its account, was +in such unspeakable trouble, my heart broke, and I began bitterly to +weep. The detested wretch swaggered with the plunder snatched from me, +and impudently renewed his proposal. + +"You can yet have it. A stroke of the pen, and you snatch therewith +the poor unhappy Mina from the claws of the villain into the arms of +the most honored Count--as observed, only a stroke of the pen." + +My tears burst forth with fresh impetuosity, but I turned away and +motioned to him to withdraw himself. Bendel, who, filled with anxiety, +had traced me to this spot, at this moment arrived. When the kind good +soul found me weeping, and saw my shadow, which could not be mistaken, +in the power of the mysterious gray man, he immediately resolved, was +it even by force, to restore to me the possession of my property; +and as he did not understand how to deal with such a tender thing, he +immediately assaulted the man with words, and, without much asking, +ordered him bluntly to return my property to me. Instead of an answer, +he turned his back to the innocent young fellow and went. But Bendel +up with his buckthorn cudgel which he carried, and, following on his +heels, without mercy, and with reiterated commands to give up the +shadow, made him feel the full force of his vigorous arm. He, as +accustomed to such handling, ducked his head, rounded his shoulders, +and with silent and deliberate steps pursued his way over the heath, +at once going off with my shadow and my faithful servant. I long heard +the heavy sounds roll over the waste, till they were finally lost in +the distance. I was alone, as before, with my misery. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Left alone on the wild heath, I gave free current to my countless +tears, relieving my heart from an ineffably weary weight. But I saw no +bound, no outlet, no end to my intolerable misery, and I drank besides +with savage thirst of the fresh poison which the unknown had poured +into my wounds. When I called the image of Mina before my soul, and +the dear, sweet form appeared pale and in tears, as I saw her last in +my shame, then stepped, impudent and mocking, Rascal's shadow between +her and me; I covered my face and fled through the wild. Yet the +hideous apparition left me not, but pursued me in my flight, till I +sank breathless on the ground, and moistened it with a fresh torrent +of tears. + +And all for a shadow! And this shadow a pen-stroke could have obtained +for me! I thought over the strange proposition and my refusal. All +was chaos in me. I had no longer either discernment or faculty of +comprehension. + +The day went along. I stilled my hunger with wild fruits, my thirst +in the nearest mountain stream. The night fell; I lay down beneath a +tree. The damp morning awoke me out of a heavy sleep in which I heard +myself rattle in the throat as in death. Bendel must have lost all +trace of me, and it rejoiced me to think so. I would not return again +amongst men before whom I fled in terror, like the timid game of the +mountains. Thus I lived through three weary days. + +On the fourth morning I found myself on a sandy plain bright with +the sun, and sat on a rock in its beams, for I loved now to enjoy its +long-withheld countenance. I silently fed my heart with its despair. A +light rustle startled me. Ready for flight I threw round me a hurried +glance; I saw no one, but in the sunny sand there glided past me a +human shadow, not unlike my own, which, wandering there alone, +seemed to have escaped from its possessor. There awoke in me a mighty +yearning. "Shadow," said I, "dost thou seek thy master? I will be he," +and I sprang forward to seize it. I thought that if I succeeded in +treading on it so that its feet touched mine, it probably would remain +hanging there, and in time accommodate itself to me. + +The shadow, on my moving, fled before me, and I was compelled to begin +a strenuous chase of the light fugitive, for which the thought of +rescuing myself from my fearful condition could alone have endowed me +with the requisite vigor. It flew toward a wood, at a great distance, +in which I must, of necessity, have lost it. I perceived this--a +horror convulsed my heart, inflamed my desire, added wings to my +speed; I gained evidently on the shadow, I came continually nearer, +I must certainly reach it. Suddenly it stopped, and turned toward me. +Like a lion on its prey, I shot with a mighty spring forward to make +seizure of it--and dashed unexpectedly against a hard and bodily +object. Invisibly I received the most unprecedented blows on the ribs +that mortal man probably ever received. + +The effect of the terror in me was convulsively to close my arms, +and firmly to inclose that which stood unseen before me. In the rapid +transaction I plunged forward to the ground, but backward and under me +was a man whom I had embraced and who now first became visible. + +The whole occurrence then became very naturally explicable to me. The +man must have carried the invisible bird's nest which renders him who +holds it, but not his shadow, imperceptible, and had now cast it away. +I glanced round, soon discovered the shadow of the invisible nest +itself, leaped up and toward it, and did not miss the precious prize. +Invisible and shadowless, I held the nest in my hand. + +The man swiftly springing up, gazing round instantly after his +fortunate conqueror, descried on the wide sunny plain neither him nor +his shadow, for which he sought with especial avidity. For that I was +myself entirely shadowless he had no leisure to remark, nor could he +imagine such a thing. Having convinced himself that every trace had +vanished, he turned his hand against himself and tore his hair in +great despair. To me, however, the acquired treasure had given +the power and desire to mix again amongst men. I did not want for +self-satisfying palliatives for my base robbery, or, rather, I had no +need of them; and to escape from every thought of the kind, I hastened +away, not even looking round at the unhappy one, whose deploring voice +I long heard resounding behind me. Thus, at least, appeared to me the +circumstances at the time. + +I was on fire to proceed to the Forester's garden, and there myself +to discern the truth of what the Detested One had told me. I knew not, +however, where I was. I climbed the next hill, in order to look round +over the country, and perceived from its summit the near city and the +Forester's garden lying at my feet. My heart beat violently, and tears +of another kind than what I had till now shed rushed into my eyes. I +should see her again! Anxious desire hastened my steps down the most +direct path. I passed unseen some peasants who came out of the city. +They were talking of me, of Rascal, and the Forest-master; I would +hear nothing--I hurried past. + +I entered the garden, all the tremor of expectation in my bosom. I +seemed to hear laughter near me. I shuddered, threw a rapid glance +round me, but could discover nobody. I advanced farther. I seemed to +perceive a sound as of man's steps near me, but there was nothing to +be seen. I believed myself deceived by my ear. It was yet early, no +one in Count Peter's arbor, the garden still empty. I traversed the +well-known paths. I penetrated to the very front of the dwelling. +The same noise more distinctly followed me. I seated myself with an +agonized heart on a bench which stood in the sunny space before the +house-door. It seemed as if I had heard the unseen kobold, laughing in +mockery, seat himself near me. The key turned in the door, it opened, +and the Forest-master issued forth with papers in his hand. A mist +seemed to envelop my head. I looked up, and--horror! the man in the +gray coat sat by me, gazing on me with a satanic leer. He had drawn +his magic-cap at once over his head and mine; at his feet lay his +and my shadow peaceably by each other. He played negligently with +the well-known parchment which he held in his hand, and as the +Forest-master, busied with his documents, went to and fro in the +shadow of the arbor, he stooped familiarly to my ear and whispered +in it these words--"So then you have, notwithstanding, accepted my +invitation, and here sit we for once, two heads under one cap. All +right! all right! But now give me my bird's nest again; you have no +further need of it, and are too honest a man to wish to withhold it +from me; but there needs no thanks; I assure you that I have lent it +you with the most hearty good will." He took it unceremoniously out +of my hand, put it in his pocket, and laughed at me again, and that so +loud that the Forest-master himself looked round at the noise. I sat +there as if changed to stone. + +"But you must admit," continued he, "that such a cap is much more +convenient. It covers not only your person but your shadow at the same +time, and as many others as you have a mind to take with you. See you +again today. I conduct two of them"--he laughed again. "Mark this, +Schlemihl; what we at first won't do with a good will, that will we +in the end be compelled to. I still fancy you will buy that thing +from me, take back the bride (for it is yet time), and we leave Rascal +dangling on the gallows, an easy thing for us so long as rope is to be +had. Hear you--I will give you also my cap into the bargain." + +The mother came forth, and the conversation began. "How goes it with +Mina?" + +"She weeps." + +"Silly child! it cannot be altered!" + +"Certainly not; but to give her to another so soon? Oh, man! thou art +cruel to thy own child." + +"No, mother, that thou quite mistakest. When she, even before she has +wept out her childish tears, finds herself the wife of a very rich and +honorable man, she will awake comforted out of her trouble as out of a +dream, and thank God and us--that shalt thou see!" + +"God grant it!" + +"She possesses now, indeed, a very respectable property; but after the +stir that this unlucky affair with the adventurer has made, canst +thou believe that a partner so suitable as Mr. Rascal could be readily +found for her? Dost thou know what a fortune Mr. Rascal possesses? He +has paid six millions for estates here in the country, free from +all debts. I have had the title deeds in my own hands! He it was +who everywhere had the start of me; and, besides this, has in his +possession bills on Thomas John for about three and a half millions." + +"He must have stolen enormously!" + +"What talk is that again! He has wisely saved what would otherwise +have been lavished away." + +"A man that has worn livery--" + +"Stupid stuff! He has, however, an unblemished shadow." + +"Thou art right, but--" + +The man in the gray coat laughed and looked at me. The door opened and +Mina came forth. She supported herself on the arm of a chambermaid, +silent tears rolling down her lovely pale cheeks. She seated herself +on a stool which was placed for her under the lime trees, and her +father took a chair by her. He tenderly took her hand, and addressed +her with tender words, while she began violently to weep. + +"Thou art my good, dear child, and thou wilt be reasonable, wilt not +wish to distress thy old father, who seeks only thy happiness. I can +well conceive it, dear heart, that it has sadly shaken thee. Thou art +wonderfully escaped from thy misfortunes! Before we discovered the +scandalous imposition, thou hadst loved this unworthy one greatly; +see, Mina, I know it, and upbraid thee not for it. I myself, dear +child, also loved him so long as I looked upon him as a great +gentleman. But now thou seest how different all has turned out. What! +every poodle has his own shadow, and should my dear child have a +husband--no! thou thinkest, indeed, no more about him. Listen, Mina! +Now a man solicits thy hand, who does not shun the sunshine, an +honorable man, who truly is no prince, but who possesses ten millions, +ten times more than thou; a man who will make my dear child happy. +Answer me not, make no opposition, be my good, dutiful daughter, let +thy loving father care for thee, and dry thy tears. Promise me to give +thy hand to Mr. Rascal. Say, wilt thou promise me this?" + +She answered with a faint voice--"I have no will, no wish further upon +earth. Happen with me what my father will." + +At this moment Mr. Rascal was announced, and stepped impudently into +the circle. Mina lay in a swoon. My detested companion glanced angrily +at me, and whispered in hurried words--"And that can you endure? What +then flows instead of blood in your veins?" He scratched with a +hasty movement a slight wound in my hand, blood flowed, and he +continued--"Actually red blood!--So sign then!" I had the parchment +and the pen in my hand. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +My wish, dear Chamisso, is merely to submit myself to thy judgment, +not to endeavor to bias it. I have long passed the severest sentence +on myself, for I have nourished the tormenting worm in my heart. It +hovered during this solemn moment of my life incessantly before my +soul, and I could only lift my eyes to it with a doubting glance, with +humility and contrition. Dear friend, he who in levity only sets his +foot out of the right road, is unawares conducted into other paths, +which draw him downward and ever downward; he then sees in vain the +guiding stars glitter in heaven; there remains to him no choice; +he must descend unpausingly the declivity and become a voluntary +sacrifice to Nemesis. After the hasty false step which had laid the +curse upon me, I had, sinning through love, forced myself into the +fortunes of another being, and what remained for me but that, where +I had sowed destruction, where speedy salvation was demanded of me, I +should blindly rush forward to the rescue?--for the last hour struck! +Think not so meanly of me, my Adelbert, as to imagine that I should +have regarded any price that was demanded as too high, that I should +have begrudged anything that was mine even more than my gold. No, +Adelbert! but my soul was possessed with the most unconquerable +hatred of this mysterious sneaker along crooked paths. I might do him +injustice, but every degree of association with him revolted me. And +here stepped forth, as so frequently in my life, and as in general +so often in the history of the world, an event instead of an action. +Since then I have achieved reconciliation with myself. I have learned, +in the first place, to reverence necessity; and what is more than the +action performed, the event accomplished--her propriety. Then I have +learned to venerate this necessity as a wise Providence, which lives +through that great collective machine in which we officiate simply as +cooeperating, impelling, and impelled wheels. What shall be, must be; +what should be, happened, and not without that Providence, which I +ultimately learned to reverence in my own fate and in the fate of +those on whom mine thus impinged. + +I know not whether I shall ascribe it to the excitement of my soul +under the impulse of such mighty sensations; or to the exhaustion +of my physical strength, which during the last days such unwonted +privations had enfeebled; or whether, finally, to the desolating +commotion which the presence of this gray fiend excited in my whole +nature--be that as it may, as I was on the point of signing I fell +into a deep swoon and lay a long time as in the arms of death. + +Stamping of feet and curses were the first sounds which struck my +ear as I returned to consciousness. I opened my eyes; it was dark; my +detested attendant was busied scolding me. "Is not that to behave like +an old woman? Up with you, man, and complete off-hand what you have +resolved on, if you have not taken another thought and had rather +blubber!" I raised myself with difficulty from the ground and gazed +in silence around. It was late in the evening; festive music resounded +from the brightly illuminated Forester's house; various groups of +people wandered through the garden walks. One couple came near in +conversation, and seated themselves on the bench which I had just +quitted. They talked of the union this morning solemnized between the +rich Mr. Rascal and the daughter of the house. So, then, it had taken +place! + +I tore the magic-cap of the already vanished unknown from my head, and +hastened in brooding silence toward the garden gate, plunging myself +into the deepest night of the thicket and striking along the path past +Count Peter's arbor. But invisibly my tormenting spirit accompanied +me, pursuing me with keenest reproaches. "These then are one's thanks +for the pains which one has taken to support Monsieur, who has weak +nerves, through the long precious day. And one shall act the fool in +the play. Good, Mr. Wronghead, fly you from me if you please, but we +are, nevertheless, inseparable. You have my gold and I your shadow, +and this will allow us no repose. Did anybody ever hear of a shadow +forsaking its master? Your's draws me after you till you take it back +again graciously, and I get rid of it. What you have hesitated to do +out of fresh pleasure, will you, only too late, be compelled to seek +through new weariness and disgust. One cannot escape one's fate." He +continued speaking in the same tone. I fled in vain; he relaxed not, +but, ever present, mockingly talked of gold and shadow. I could come +to no single thought of my own. + +I struck through empty streets toward my house. When I stood before +it, and gazed at it, I could scarcely recognize it. No light shone +through the dashed-in windows. The doors were closed; no throng of +servants was moving therein. There was a laugh near me. "Ha! ha! so +goes it! But you'll probably find your Bendel at home, for he was the +other day providently sent back so weary that he has most likely kept +his bed since." He laughed again. "He will have a story to tell! Well +then, for the present, good night! We meet again speedily!" + +I had rung the bell repeatedly; light appeared; Bendel demanded from +within who rung. When the good man recognized my voice, he could +scarcely restrain his joy. The door flew open and we stood weeping in +each other's arms. I found him greatly changed, weak and ill; but for +me--my hair had become quite gray! + +He conducted me through the desolated rooms to an inner apartment +which had been spared. He brought food and wine, and we seated +ourselves, and he again began to weep. He related to me that he the +other day had cudgeled the gray-clad man whom he had encountered with +my shadow, so long and so far that he had lost all trace of me and had +sunk to the earth in utter fatigue; that after this, as he could not +find me, he returned home, whither presently the mob, at Rascal's +instigation, came rushing in fury, dashed in the windows, and +gave full play to their lust of demolition. Thus did they to their +benefactor. The servants had fled various ways. The police had ordered +me, as a suspicious person, to quit the city, and had allowed only +four-and-twenty hours in which to evacuate their jurisdiction. To that +which I already knew of Rascal's affluence and marriage, he had yet +much to add. This scoundrel, from whom all had proceeded that had been +done against me, must, from the beginning, have been in possession of +my secret. It appeared that, attracted by gold, he had contrived to +thrust himself upon me, and at the very first had procured a key to +the gold cupboard, where he had laid the foundation of that fortune +whose augmentation he could now afford to despise. + +All this Bendel narrated to me with abundant tears, and then wept for +joy that he again beheld me, again had me; and that after he had long +doubted whither this misfortune might have led me, he saw me bear it +so calmly and collectedly; for such an aspect had despair now assumed +in me. My misery stood before me in its enormity and unchangeableness. +I had wept my last tear; not another cry could be extorted from my +heart; I presented to my fate my bare head with chill indifference. + +"Bendel," I said, "thou knowest my lot. Not without earlier blame has +my heavy punishment befallen me. Thou, innocent man, shalt no longer +bind thy destiny to mine. I do not desire it. I leave this very night; +saddle me a horse; I ride alone; thou remainest; it is my will. Here +still must remain some chests of gold; that retain thou; but I will +alone wander unsteadily through the world. But if ever a happier hour +should smile upon me, and fortune look on me with reconciled eyes, +then will I remember thee, for I have wept upon thy firmly faithful +bosom in heavy and agonizing hours." + +With a broken heart was this honest man compelled to obey this last +command of his master, at which his soul shrunk with terror. I was +deaf to his prayers, to his representations; blind to his tears. He +brought me out my steed. Once more I pressed the weeping man to my +bosom, sprang into the saddle, and under the shroud of night hastened +from the grave of my existence, regardless which way my horse +conducted me, since I had longer on earth no aim, no wish, no hope. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +A pedestrian soon joined me, who begged, after he had walked for some +time by the side of my horse, that, as we went the same way, he might +be allowed to lay a cloak which he carried, on the steed behind me. +I permitted it in silence. He thanked me with easy politeness for the +trifling service; praised my horse; and thence took occasion to extol +the happiness and power of the rich, and let himself, I know not how, +fall into a kind of monologue, in which he had me now merely for a +listener. + +He unfolded his views of life and of the world, and came very soon +upon metaphysics, whose task is to discover the Word that should solve +all riddles. He stated his thesis with great clearness and proceeded +onward to the proofs. + +Thou knowest, my friend, that I have clearly discovered, since I have +run through the schools of the philosophers, that I have by no means a +turn for philosophical speculations, and that I have totally +renounced for myself this field. Since then I have left many things +to themselves; abandoned the desire to know and to comprehend many +things; and as thou thyself advised me, have, trusting to my common +sense, followed as far as I was able the voice within me in my own +way. Now this rhetorician seemed to me to raise with great talent +a firmly constructed fabric, which was at once self-based and +self-supported, and stood as by an innate necessity. I missed in it +completely, however, what most of all I was desirous to find, and so +it became for me merely a work of art, whose elegant compactness and +completeness served to charm the eye only; nevertheless I listened +willingly to the eloquent man who drew my attention from my grief to +him; and I would have gladly yielded myself wholly up to him, had he +captivated my heart as much as my understanding. + +Meanwhile the time had passed, and unobserved the dawn had already +enlightened the heaven. I was horrified as I looked up suddenly, and +saw the glory of colors unfold itself in the east, which announced +the approach of the sun; while at this hour in which the shadows +ostentatiously display themselves in their greatest extent, there was +no protection from it; no refuge in the open country to be descried. +And I was not alone! I cast a glance at my companion, and was again +terror-stricken. It was no other than the man in the gray coat! + +He smiled at my alarm, and went on without allowing me a single word. +"Let, however, as is the way of the world, our mutual advantage for +awhile unite us. It is all in good time for separating. The road here +along the mountain-range, though you have not yet thought of it, is, +nevertheless, the only one into which you could logically have struck. +Down into the valley you cannot venture; and still less will you +desire to return again over the heights whence you came; and this +also happens to be my way. I see that you already turn pale before +the rising sun. I will, for the time we keep company, lend you your +shadow, and you, in exchange, tolerate me in your society. You have +no longer your Bendel with you, I will do you good service. You do not +like me, and I am sorry for it; but, notwithstanding, you can make use +of me. The devil is not so black as he is painted. Yesterday you +vexed me, it is true; I will not upbraid you with it today; and I have +already shortened the way hither for you; that you must admit. Only +just take your shadow again awhile on trial." + +The sun had ascended; people appeared on the road; I accepted, though +with internal repugnance, the proposal. Smiling he let my shadow glide +to the ground, which immediately took its place on that of the horse, +and trotted gaily by my side. I was in the strangest state of mind. +I rode past a group of country-people, who made way for a man of +consequence, reverently, and with bared heads. I rode on, and gazed +with greedy eyes and a palpitating; heart on this my quondam shadow +which I had now borrowed from a stranger, yes, from an enemy. + +The man went carelessly near me, and even whistled a tune--he on foot, +I on horseback; a dizziness seized me; the temptation was too great; +I suddenly turned the reins, clapped spurs to the horse, and struck at +full speed into a side-path. But I carried not off the shadow, which +at the turning glided from the horse and awaited its lawful possessor +on the high road. I was compelled with shame to turn back. The man in +the gray coat, when he had calmly finished his tune, laughed at me, +set the shadow right again for me and informed me that it would +hang fast and remain with me only when I was disposed to become the +rightful proprietor. "I hold you," continued he, "fast by the shadow, +and you cannot escape me. A rich man, like you, needs a shadow; +it cannot be otherwise, and you only are to blame that you did not +perceive that sooner." + +I continued my journey on the same road; the comforts and the splendor +of life again surrounded me; I could move about free and conveniently, +since I possessed a shadow, although only a borrowed one; and I +everywhere inspired the respect which riches command. But I carried +death in my heart. My strange companion, who gave himself out as +the unworthy servant of the richest man in the world, possessed +an extraordinary professional readiness, prompt and clever beyond +comparison, the very model of a valet for a rich man, but he stirred +not from my side, perpetually debating with me and ever manifesting +his confidence that, at length, were it only to be rid of him, I +would resolve to settle the affair of the shadow. He had become as +burdensome to me as he was hateful. I was even in fear of him. He had +made me dependent on him. He held me, after he had conducted me +back into the glory of the world from which I had fled. I was almost +obliged to tolerate his eloquence, and felt that he was in the right. +A rich man must have a shadow, and, as I desired to command the rank +which he had contrived again to make necessary to me, I saw but one +issue. By this, however, I stood fast: after having sacrificed my +love, after my life had been blighted, I would never sign away my soul +to this creature, for all the shadows in the world. I knew not how it +would end. + +We sat, one day, before a cave which the strangers who frequent +these mountains are accustomed to visit. One hears there the rush +of subterranean streams roaring up from immeasurable depths, and the +stone cast in seemed, in its resounding fall, to find no bottom. He +painted to me, as he often did, with a vivid power of imagination +and in the lustrous charms of the most brilliant colors, the most +carefully finished pictures of what I might achieve in the world +by virtue of my purse, if I had but once again my shadow in my +possession. With my elbows resting on my knees, I kept my face +concealed in my hands and listened to the false one, my heart divided +between his seduction and my own strong will. I could not longer stand +such an inward conflict, and the deciding strife began. + +"You appear, sir, to forget that I have indeed allowed you, upon +certain conditions, to remain in my company, but that I have reserved +my perfect freedom." + +"If you command it, I pack up." + +He was accustomed to this menace. I was silent. He began immediately +to roll up my shadow. I turned pale, but I let it proceed. There +followed a long pause; he first broke it. + +"You cannot bear me, sir. You hate me; I know it; yet why do you +hate me? Is it because you attacked me on the highway, and sought to +deprive me by violence of my bird's nest? Or is it because you have +endeavored, in a thievish manner, to cheat me out of my property, the +shadow, which was intrusted to you entirely on your honor? I, for my +part, do not hate you in spite of all this. I find it quite natural +that you should seek to avail yourself of all your advantages, +cunning, and power. Neither do I object to your very strict principles +and to your fancy to think like honesty itself. In fact, I think not +so strictly as you; I merely act as you think. Or have I at any time +pressed my finger on your throat in order to bring to me your most +precious soul, for which I have a fancy? Have I, on account of my +bartered purse, let a servant loose on you? Have I sought to swindle +you out of it?" I had nothing to oppose to this, and he proceeded: +"Very good, sir! very good! You cannot endure me; I know that very +well, and am by no means angry with you for it. We must part, that is +clear, and, in fact, you begin to be very wearisome to me. In order, +then, to rid you of my continued, shame-inspiring presence, I counsel +you once more to purchase this thing from me." I extended to him the +purse: "At that price?"--"No!" + +I sighed deeply, and added, "Be it so, then. I insist, sir, that we +part, and that you no longer obstruct my path in a world which, it +is to be hoped, has room enough in it for us both." He smiled, and +replied: "I go, sir; but first let me instruct you how you may ring +for me when you desire to see again your most devoted servant. You +have only to shake your purse, so that the eternal gold pieces therein +jingle, and the sound will instantly attract me. Every one thinks of +his own advantage in this world. You see that I at the same time +am thoughtful of yours, since I reveal to you a new power. Oh! this +purse!--had the moths already devoured your shadow, that would still +constitute a strong bond between us. Enough, you have me in my gold. +Should you have any commands, even when far off, for your servant, you +know that I can show myself very active in the service of my friends, +and the rich stand particularly well with me. You have seen it +yourself. Only your shadow, sir--allow me to tell you that--never +again, except on one sole condition." + +Forms of the past time swept before my soul. I demanded hastily--"Had +you a signature from Mr. John?" He smiled. "With so good a friend it +was by no means necessary." "Where is he? By God, I wish to know it!" +He hesitatingly plunged his hand into his pocket, and, dragged thence +by the hair, appeared Thomas John's ghastly disfigured form, and the +blue death-lips moved themselves with heavy words: "_Justo judicio Dei +judicatus sum; justo judicio Dei condemnatus sum_." I shuddered with +horror, and dashing the ringing purse into the abyss, I spoke to him +the last words--"I adjure thee, horrible one, in the name of God, take +thyself hence, and never again show thyself in my sight!" + +He arose gloomily, and instantly vanished behind the masses of rock +which bounded this wild, overgrown spot. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +I sat there without shadow and without money, but a heavy weight was +taken from my bosom. I was calm. Had I not also lost my love, or had I +in that loss felt myself free from blame, I believe that I should have +been happy; but I knew not what I should do. I examined my pockets; I +found yet several gold pieces there; I counted them and laughed. I +had my horses below at the inn; I was ashamed of returning thither; I +must, at least, wait till the sun was gone down; it stood yet high in +the heavens. I laid myself down in the shade of the nearest trees, and +calmly fell asleep. + +Lovely shapes blended themselves before me in charming dance into a +pleasing dream. Mina with a flower-wreath in her hair floated by me, +and smiled kindly upon me. The noble Bendel also was crowned with +flowers, and went past with a friendly greeting. I saw many besides, +and I believe thee too, Chamisso, in the distant throng. A bright +light appeared, but no one had a shadow, and, what was stranger, it +had by no means a bad effect. Flowers and songs, love and joy, under +groves of palm! I could neither hold fast nor interpret the moving, +lightly floating, lovable forms; but I knew that I dreamed such a +dream with joy, and was careful to avoid waking. I was already awake, +but still kept my eyes closed in order to retain the fading apparition +longer before my soul. + +I finally opened my eyes; the sun stood still high in the heavens, but +in the east; I had slept through the night. I took it for a sign that +I should not return to the inn. I gave up readily as lost what I yet +possessed there, and determined to strike on foot into a branch road, +which led along the wood-grown feet of the mountains, leaving it to +fate to fulfil what it had yet in store for me. I looked not behind +me, and thought not even of applying to Bendel, whom I left rich +behind me, and which I could readily have done. I considered the +new character which I should support in the world. My dress was very +modest. I had on an old black polonaise, which I had already worn in +Berlin, and which, I know not how, had first come again into my hands +for this journey. I had also a traveling cap on my head, a pair of old +boots on my feet. I arose, and cut me on the spot a knotty stick as a +memorial, and pursued my wandering. + +I met in the wood an old peasant who, friendly, greeted me, and with +whom I entered into conversation. I inquired, like an inquisitive +traveler, first the way, then about the country and its inhabitants, +the productions of the mountains, and many such things. He answered my +questions sensibly and loquaciously. We came to the bed of a mountain +torrent, which had spread its devastations over a wide tract of the +forest. I shuddered involuntarily at the sun-bright space, and allowed +the countryman to go first; but in the midst of this dangerous +spot, he stood still, and turned to relate to me the history of this +desolation. He saw immediately my defect, and paused in the midst of +his discourse. + +"But how does that happen--the gentleman has actually no shadow!" + +"Alas! alas!" replied I, sighing, "during a long and severe illness, +my hair, nails, and shadow fell off. See, father, at my age, my hair, +which is renewed again, is quite white, the nails very short, and the +shadow--that will not grow again." + +"Ay! ay!" responded the old man, shaking his head--"no shadow, that +is bad! That was a bad illness that the gentleman had." But he did +not continue his narrative, and at the next cross-way which presented +itself left me without saying a word. Bitter tears trembled anew upon +my cheeks, and my cheerfulness was gone. + +I pursued my way with a sorrowful heart, and sought no further the +society of men. I kept myself in the darkest wood, and was many a time +compelled, in order to pass over a space where the sun shone, to wait +for whole hours, lest some human eye should forbid me the transit. In +the evening I sought shelter in the villages. I went particularly in +quest of a mine in the mountains where I hoped to get work under the +earth; since, besides that my present situation made it imperative +that I should provide for my support, I had discovered that the most +active labor alone could protect me from my own annihilating thoughts. + +A few rainy days advanced me well on the way, but at the expense of +my boots, whose soles had been calculated for Count Peter, and not for +the pedestrian laborer. I was already barefoot and had to procure a +pair of new boots. The next morning I transacted this business with +much gravity in a village where a wake was being held, and where in +a booth old and new boots were sold. I selected and bargained long. I +was forced to deny myself a new pair, which I would gladly have had, +for the extravagant price frightened me. I therefore contented myself +with an old pair, which were yet good and strong, and which the +handsome, blond-haired boy who kept the stall, for present cash +payment handed to me with a friendly smile and wished me good luck on +my journey. I put them on at once, and left the place by the northern +gate. + +I was deeply absorbed in my thoughts and scarcely saw where I set +my feet, for I was pondering on the mine which I hoped to reach by +evening, and where I hardly knew how I should introduce myself. I had +not advanced two hundred strides when I observed that I had gone out +of the way. I therefore looked round me, and found myself in a wild +and ancient forest, where the axe appeared never to have been wielded. +I still pressed forward a few steps, and beheld myself in the midst +of desert rocks which were overgrown only with moss and lichens, and +between which lay fields of snow and ice. The air was intensely cold; +I looked round--the wood had vanished behind me. I took a few strides +more--and around me reigned the silence of death; the ice whereon I +stood boundlessly extended itself, and on it rested a thick, heavy +fog. The sun stood blood-red on the edge of the horizon. The cold was +insupportable. + +I knew not what had happened to me. The benumbing frost compelled me +to hasten my steps; I heard only the roar of distant waters; a step, +and I was on the icy margin of an ocean. Innumerable herds of seals +plunged rushing before me in the flood. I pursued this shore; I saw +naked rocks, land, birch and pine forests; I now advanced for a few +minutes right onward. It became stifling hot. I looked around--I +stood amongst beautifully cultivated rice-fields, and beneath +mulberry-trees. I seated myself in their shade; I looked at my watch; +I had left the market town only a quarter of an hour before. I fancied +that I dreamed; I bit my tongue to awake myself, but I was really +awake. I closed my eyes in order to collect my thoughts. I heard +before me singular accents pronounced through the nose. I looked up. +Two Chinese, unmistakable from their Asiatic physiognomy, if indeed +I would have given no credit to their costume, addressed me in their +speech with the accustomed salutations of their country. I arose and +stepped two paces backward; I saw them no more. The landscape +was totally changed--trees and forests instead of rice-fields. I +contemplated these trees and the plants which bloomed around me, which +I recognized as the growth of southeastern Asia. I wished to approach +one of these trees--one step, and again all was changed. I marched +now like a recruit who is drilled, and strode slowly and with measured +steps. Wonderfully diversified lands, rivers, meadows, mountain +chains, steppes, deserts of sand, unrolled themselves before my +astonished eyes. There was no doubt of it--I had seven-league boots on +my feet. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +I fell in speechless adoration on my knees and shed tears of +thankfulness, for suddenly my future stood clear before my soul. For +early offense thrust out from the society of men, I was cast, for +compensation, upon Nature, which I ever loved; the earth was given me +as a rich garden, study for the object and strength of my life, and +science for its goal. It was no resolution which I adopted. I only +have since, with severe, unremitted diligence, striven faithfully +to represent what then stood clear and perfect before my eye, and my +satisfaction has depended on the agreement of the representation with +the original. + +I roused myself in order, without delay, and with a hasty survey, to +take possession of the field where I should hereafter reap. I stood on +the heights of Tibet, and the sun, which had risen upon me only a few +hours before, now already stooped to the evening sky. I wandered over +Asia from east to west, overtaking him in his course, and entered +Africa. I gazed about me with eager curiosity, as I repeatedly +traversed it in all directions. As I surveyed the ancient pyramids +and temples in passing through Egypt, I descried in the desert not far +from hundred-gated Thebes, the caves where the Christian anchorites +once dwelt. It was suddenly firm and clear in me--here is thy home! +I selected one of the most concealed which was at the same time +spacious, convenient, and inaccessible to the jackals, for my future +abode, and again went forward. + +I passed, at the pillars of Hercules, over to Europe, and when I +reviewed the southern and northern provinces, I crossed from northern +Asia over the polar glaciers to Greenland and America, traversed both +parts of that continent, and the winter which already reigned in the +south drove me speedily back northward from Cape Horn. + +I tarried awhile till it was day in eastern Asia, and, after some +repose, continued my wandering. I traced through both Americas the +mountain chain which constitutes the highest known acclivities on our +globe. I stalked slowly and cautiously from summit to summit, now +over flaming volcanoes, now snow-crowned peaks, often breathing +with difficulty, when, reaching Mount Saint Elias, I sprang across +Behring's Straits to Asia. I followed the western shores in their +manifold windings, and examined with especial care to ascertain which +of the islands were accessible to me. From the peninsula of Malacca my +boots carried me to Sumatra, Java, Bali and Lamboc. I attempted often +with danger, and always in vain, a northwest passage over the lesser +islet and rocks with which this sea is studded, to Borneo and the +other islands of this Archipelago. I was compelled to abandon the +hope. At length I seated myself on the extreme portion of Lamboc, and +gazing toward the south and east, wept, as at the fast closed bars +of my prison, that I had so soon discovered my limits. New Holland so +extraordinary and so essentially necessary to the comprehension of the +earth and its sun-woven garment, the vegetable and the animal world, +with the South Sea and its Zoophyte islands, was interdicted to me, +and thus, at the very outset, all that I should gather and build up +was destined to remain a mere fragment! Oh, my Adelbert, what, after +all, are the endeavors of men! + +Often did I in the severest winter of the southern hemisphere, +endeavor, passing the polar glaciers westward, to leave behind me +those two hundred strides out from Cape Horn, which sundered me +probably from Van Diemen's Land and New Holland, regardless of my +return or whether this dismal region should close upon me as my +coffin-lid--making desperate leaps from ice-drift to ice-drift, and +bidding defiance to the cold and the sea. In vain! I never reached New +Holland, but, every time, I came back to Lamboc, seated myself on its +farthest peak, and wept again, with my face turned toward the south +and east, as at the fast closed bars of my prison. + +I tore myself at length from this spot, and returned with a sorrowful +heart into inner Asia. I traversed that farther, pursuing the morning +dawn westward, and came, yet in the night, to my proposed home in the +Thebais, which I had touched upon in the afternoon of the day before. + +As soon as I was somewhat rested, and when it was day again in Europe, +I made it my first care to procure everything which I wanted. First of +all, stop-shoes; for I had experienced how inconvenient it was when +I wished to examine near objects, not to be able to slacken my stride +except by pulling off my boots. A pair of slippers drawn over them had +completely the effect which I anticipated, and later I always carried +two pairs, since I sometimes threw them from my feet, without having +time to pick them up again, when lions, men, or hyenas startled +me from my botanizing. My very excellent watch was, for the short +duration of my passage, a capital chronometer. Besides this I needed a +sextant, some scientific instruments, and books. + +To procure all this, I made several anxious journeys to London and +Paris, which, auspiciously for me, a mist just then overshadowed. +As the remains of my enchanted gold was now exhausted, I easily +accomplished the payment by gathering African ivory, in which, +however, I was obliged to select only the smallest tusks, as not too +heavy for me. I was soon furnished and equipped with all these, and +commenced immediately, as private philosopher, my new course of life. + +I roamed about the earth, now determining the altitudes of mountains; +now the temperature of its springs and the air; now contemplating the +animal, now inquiring into the vegetable tribes. I hastened from the +equator to the pole, from one world to the other, comparing facts with +facts. The eggs of the African ostrich or the northern sea-fowl, and +fruits, especially of the tropical palms and bananas, were even +my ordinary food. In lieu of happiness I had tobacco, and of human +society and the ties of love, one faithful poodle, which guarded my +cave in the Thebais, and, when I returned home with fresh treasures, +sprang joyfully toward me and gave me still a human feeling that I was +not alone on the earth. An adventure was yet destined to conduct me +back amongst mankind. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +As I once scotched my boots on the shores of the north and gathered +lichens and sea-weed, an ice-bear came unawares upon me round the +corner of a rock. Flinging off my slippers, I would step over to an +opposite island, to which a naked crag which protruded midway from +the waves offered me a passage. I stepped with one foot firmly on +the rock, and plunged over on the other side into the sea, one of my +slippers having unobserved remained fast on the foot. + +The excessive cold seized on me; I with difficulty rescued my life +from this danger; and the moment I reached land, I ran with the utmost +speed to the Lybyan desert in order to dry myself in the sun, but, +as I was here exposed, it burned me so furiously on the head that I +staggered back again very ill toward the north. I sought to relieve +myself by rapid motion, and ran with swift, uncertain steps, from west +to east, from east to west. I found myself now in the day, now in the +night; now in summer, now in the winter's cold. + +I know not how long I thus reeled about on the earth. A burning fever +glowed in my veins; with deepest distress I felt my senses forsaking +me. As mischief would have it, in my incautious career, I now trod on +some one's foot; I must have hurt him; I received a heavy blow, and +fell to the ground. + +When I again returned to consciousness, I lay comfortably in a good +bed, which stood amongst many other beds in a handsome hall. Some one +sat at my head; people went through the hall from one bed to another. +They came to mine, and spoke together about me. They styled me _Number +Twelve_; and on the wall at my feet stood--yes, certainly it was no +delusion, I could distinctly read on a black tablet of marble in great +golden letters, quite correctly written, my name-- + + PETER SCHLEMIHL. + +On the tablet beneath my name were two other rows of letters, but I +was too weak to put them together. I again closed my eyes. + +I heard something of which the subject was Peter Schlemihl read aloud, +and articulately, but I could not collect the sense. I saw a friendly +man, and a very lovely woman in black dress appear at my bedside. The +forms were not strange to me, and yet I could not recognize them. + +Some time went on, and I recovered my strength. I was called _Number +Twelve_; and _Number Twelve_, on account of his long beard, passed for +a Jew, on which account, however, he was not at all the less carefully +treated. That he had no shadow appeared to have been unobserved. My +boots, as I was assured, were, with all that I had brought hither, in +good keeping, in order to be restored to me on my recovery. The place +in which I lay was called the SCHLEMIHLIUM. What was daily read aloud +concerning Peter Schlemihl was an exhortation to pray for him as the +Founder and Benefactor of this institution. The friendly man whom I +had seen by my bed was Bendel; the lovely woman was Mina. + +I recovered unrecognized in the Schlemihlium; and learned yet further +that I was in Bendel's native city, where, with the remains of my +otherwise unblessed gold, he had in my name founded this +Hospital, where the unhappy blessed me, and himself maintained its +superintendence. Mina was a widow. An unhappy criminal process had +cost Mr. Rascal his life, and her the greater part of her property. +Her parents were no more. She lived here as a pious widow, and +practised works of mercy. + +Once she conversed with Mr. Bendel at the bedside of _Number Twelve_. +"Why, noble lady, will you so often expose yourself to the bad +atmosphere which prevails here? Does fate then deal so hardly with you +that you wish to die?" + +"No, Mr. Bendel, since I have dreamed out my long dream, and have +awoke in myself, all is well with me; since then I crave not, and fear +not, death. Since then, I reflect calmly on the past and the future. +Is it not also with a still inward happiness that you now, in so +devout a manner, serve your master and friend?" + +"Thank God, yes, noble lady. But we have seen wonderful things; we +have unwarily drunk much good, and bitter woes, out of the full cup. +Now it is empty, and we may believe that the whole has been only a +trial, and, armed with wise discernment, awaits the real beginning. +The real beginning is of another fashion; and we wish not back the +first jugglery, and are on the whole glad, such as it was, to have +lived through it. I feel also within me a confidence that it must now +be better than formerly with our old friend." + +"Within me too," replied the lovely widow, and then passed on. + +The conversation left a deep impression upon me, but I was undecided +in myself whether I should make myself known or depart hence +unrecognized. I took my resolve. I requested paper and pencil, and +wrote these words--"It is indeed better with your old friend now than +formerly, and if he does penance it is the penance of reconciliation." + +Hereupon I desired to dress myself, as I found myself stronger. The +key of the small wardrobe which stood near my bed was brought, and I +found therein all that belonged to me. I put on my clothes, suspended +my botanical case, in which I rejoiced still to find my northern +lichens, round my black polonaise, drew on my boots, laid the written +paper on my bed, and, as the door opened, I was already far on the way +to the Thebais. + +As I took the way along the Syrian coast, on which I for the last time +had wandered from home, I perceived my poor Figaro coming toward me. +This excellent poodle, which had long expected his master at home, +seemed to desire to trace him out. I stood still and called to him. +He sprang barking toward me, with a thousand moving assurances of his +inmost and most extravagant joy. I took him up under my arm, for in +truth he could not follow me, and brought him with me home again. + +I found all in its old order, and returned gradually, as my strength +was recruited, to my former employment and mode of life, except that +I kept myself for a whole year out of the, to me, wholly insupportable +polar cold. And thus, my dear Chamisso, I live to this day. My boots +are no worse for the wear, as that very learned work of the celebrated +Tieckius, _De Rebus Gestis Pollicilli_, at first led me to fear. Their +force remains unimpaired, my strength only decays; yet I have the +comfort to have exerted it in a continuous and not fruitless pursuit +of one object. I have, so far as my boots could carry me, become more +fundamentally acquainted than any man before me with the earth, +its shape, its elevations, its temperatures, the changes of its +atmosphere, the exhibitions of its magnetic power, and the life upon +it, especially in the vegetable world. The facts I have recorded with +the greatest possible exactness and in perspicuous order in several +works, and stated my deductions and views briefly in several +treatises. I have settled the geography of the interior of Africa, +and of the northern polar regions; of the interior of Asia, and its +eastern shores. My _Historia Stirpium Plantarum Utriusque Orbis_ +stands as a grand fragment of the _Flora Universalis Terrae_, and as +a branch of my _Systema Naturae_. I believe that I have therein not +merely augmented, at a moderate calculation, the amount of known +species, more than one-third, but have done something for the _Natural +System_, and for the _Geography of Plants_. I shall labor diligently +at my _Fauna_. I shall take care that, before my death, my works shall +be deposited in the Berlin University. + +And thee, my dear Chamisso, have I selected as the preserver of my +singular history, which, perhaps, when I have vanished from the earth, +may afford valuable instruction to many of its inhabitants. But thou, +my friend, if thou wilt live among men, learn before all things to +reverence the shadow, and then the gold. Wishest thou to live only for +thyself and for thy better self--oh, then!--thou needest no counsel. + + + + +ERNST THEODOR AMADEUS HOFFMANN + + * * * * * + +THE GOLDEN POT[44] (1814) + +TRANSLATED BY FREDERIC H. HEDGE + +FIRST VIGIL + + The mishaps of the student Anselmus. Conrector Paulmann's sanitary + canaster and the gold-green snakes. + + +On Ascension-day, at three o'clock in the afternoon, a young man in +Dresden came running through the Black Gate, falling right into a +basket of apples and cakes, which an old and very ugly woman was +there exposing to sale. All that escaped being smashed to pieces was +scattered away, and the street-urchins joyfully divided the booty +which this quick gentleman had thrown in the way. At the murder-shriek +which the crone set up, her gossips, leaving their cake and +brandy-tables, encircled the young man, and with plebeian violence +stormfully scolded him, so that, for shame and vexation, he uttered +no word, but merely held out his small and by no means particularly +well-filled purse, which the crone eagerly clutched and stuck into her +pocket. The firm ring now opened; but as the young man started off, +the crone called after him: "Ay, run, run thy ways, thou Devil's bird! +To the crystal run--to the crystal!" The squealing, creaking voice +of the woman had something unearthly in it, so that the promenaders +paused in amazement, and the laugh, which at first had been universal, +instantly died away. The student Anselmus, for the young man was no +other, felt himself, though he did not in the least understand these +singular phrases, nevertheless seized with a certain involuntary +horror; and he quickened his steps still more, to escape the curious +looks of the multitude, which were all turned toward him. As he +worked his way through the crowd of well-dressed people, he heard them +murmuring on all sides: "Poor young fellow! Ha! what a cursed bedlam +it is!" The mysterious words of the crone had, oddly enough, given +this ludicrous adventure a sort of tragic turn; and the youth, before +unobserved, was now looked after with a certain sympathy. The ladies, +for his fine shape and handsome face, which the glow of inward anger +was rendering still more expressive, forgave him this awkward step, as +well as the dress he wore, though it was utterly at variance with all +mode. His pike-gray frock was shaped as if the tailor had known the +modern form only by hearsay; and his well-kept black satin lower +habiliments gave the whole a certain pedagogic air, to which the gait +and gesture of the wearer did not at all correspond. + +The student had almost reached the end of the alley which leads out to +the Linke Bath; but his breath could stand such a rate no longer. From +running, he took to walking; but scarcely did he yet dare to lift an +eye from the ground; for he still saw apples and cakes dancing round +him, and every kind look from this or that fair damsel was to him but +the reflex of the mocking laughter at the Black Gate. In this mood, he +had got to the entrance of the bath; one group of holiday people after +the other were moving in. Music of wind-instruments resounded from the +place, and the din of merry guests was growing louder and louder. The +poor student Anselmus was almost on the point of weeping; for he too +had expected, Ascension-day having always been a family-festival with +him, to participate in the felicities of the Linkean paradise; nay, he +had purposed even to go the length of a half "portion" of coffee with +rum, and a whole bottle of double beer, and, that he might carouse +at his ease, had put more money in his purse than was properly +permissible and feasible. And now, by this fatal step into the +apple-basket, all that he had about him had been swept away. Of +coffee, of double beer, of music, of looking at the bright damsels--in +a word, of all his fancied enjoyments, there was now nothing more to +be said. He glided slowly past, and at last turned down the Elbe road, +which at that time happened to be quite solitary. + +[Illustration: Permission Berlin Photo Co., New York. HENSEL +ERNST THEODOR AMADEUS HOFFMANN] + +Beneath an elder-tree, which had grown out through the wall, he found +a kind green resting-place; here he sat down, and filled a pipe from +the _Sanitaetsknaster_ or Health-tobacco, of which his friend the +Conrector Paulmann had lately made him a present. Close before him +rolled and chafed the gold-dyed waves of the fair Elbe-stream; behind +him rose lordly Dresden, stretching, bold and proud, its light towers +into the airy sky; which again, farther off, bent itself down toward +flowery meads and fresh springing woods; and in the dim distance, a +range of azure peaks gave notice of remote Bohemia. But, heedless of +this, the student Anselmus, looking gloomily before him, blew forth +his smoky clouds into the air. His chagrin at length became audible, +and he said: "Of a truth, I am born to losses and crosses for my life +long! That in boyhood I never could become the King on Twelfthnight, +that at Odds or Evens I could never once guess the right way, that +my bread and butter always fell on the buttered side--of all these +sorrows I will not speak; but is it not a frightful destiny, that now, +when, in spite of Satan, I have become a student, I must still be a +jolthead as before? Do I ever put a new coat on, without the first day +smearing it with tallow, or on some ill-fastened nail or other tearing +a cursed hole in it? Do I ever bow to any Councilor or any lady, +without pitching the hat out of my hands, or even slipping on the +pavement, and shamefully going heels-over-head? Had I not, every +market-day, while in Halle, a regular sum of from three to four +groschen to pay for broken pottery, the Devil putting it into my head +to walk straight forward, like a leming-rat? Have I ever once got to +my college, or any place I was appointed to, at the right time? What +availed it that I set out half an hour before, and planted myself at +the door, with the knocker in my hand? Just as the clock is going to +strike, souse! some Devil pours a wash-basin down on me, or I bolt +against some fellow coming out, and get myself engaged in endless +quarrels till the time is clean gone. + +"Ah! well-a-day! whither are ye fled, ye blissful dreams of coming +fortune, when I proudly thought that here I might even reach the +height of Privy Secretary? And has not my evil star estranged from me +my best patrons? I learn, for instance, that the Councilor, to whom I +have a letter, cannot suffer cropped hair; with immensity of trouble, +the barber fastens me a little cue to my hindhead; but at the first +bow his unblessed knot gives way, and a little shock-dog, running +snuffling about me, frisks off to the Privy Councilor with the cue in +his mouth. I spring after it in terror, and stumble against the +table, where he has been working while at breakfast; and cups, plates, +ink-glass, sand-box, rush jingling to the floor, and a flood of +chocolate and ink overflows the "Relation" he has just been writing. +'Is the Devil in the man?' bellows the furious Privy Councilor, and +shoves me out of the room. + +"What avails it that Corrector Paulmann gave me hopes of a writership: +will my malignant fate allow it, which everywhere pursues me? +Today even! Do but think of it! I was purposing to hold my good old +Ascension-day with right cheerfulness of soul; I would stretch a point +for once; I might have gone, as well as any other guest, into Linke's +Bath, and called out proudly: 'Marqueur! a bottle of double beer; best +sort, if you please!' I might have sat till far in the evening, and, +moreover, close by this or that fine party of well-dressed ladies. I +know it, I feel it! heart would have come into me and I should have +been quite another man; nay, I might have carried it so far that when +one or other of them asked, `What o'clock may it be?' or 'What is +it they are playing?' I should have started up with light grace, and +without overturning my glass or stumbling over the bench, but in a +curved posture, moving one step and a half forward, I should have +answered: 'Give me leave, Mademoiselle! it is the overture of the +_Donauweibchen_;' or, 'It is just going to strike six.' Could any +mortal in the world have taken it ill of me? No! I say; the girls +would have looked over, smiling so roguishly, as they always do when +I pluck up heart to show them that I too understand the light tone of +society, and know how ladies should be spoken to. But here--the Devil +leads me into that cursed apple-basket, and now must I sit moping +in solitude, with nothing but a poor pipe of----" Here the student +Anselmus was interrupted in his soliloquy by a strange rustling and +whisking, which rose close by him in the grass, but soon glided up +into the twigs and leaves of the elder-tree that stretched out over +his head. It was as if the evening wind were shaking the leaves; as if +little birds were twittering among the branches, moving their little +wings in capricious flutter to and fro. Then he heard a whispering and +lisping; and it seemed as if the blossoms were sounding like +little crystal bells. Anselmus listened and listened. Ere long, the +whispering, and lisping, and tinkling, he himself knew not how, grew +to faint and half-scattered words: + +"'Twixt this way, 'twixt that; 'twixt branches, 'twixt blossoms, come +shoot, come twist and twirl we! Sisterkin, sisterkin! up to the shine; +up, down, through and through, quick! Sun-rays yellow; evening-wind +whispering; dew-drops pattering; blossoms all singing: sing we with +branches and blossoms! Stars soon glitter; must down: 'twixt this way, +'twixt that, come shoot, come twist, come twirl we, sisterkin!" + +And so it went along, in confused and confusing speech. The student +Anselmus thought: "Well, it is but the evening-wind, which tonight +truly is whispering distinctly enough." But at that moment there +sounded over his head, as it were, a triple harmony of clear crystal +bells: he looked up, and perceived three little snakes, glittering +with green and gold, twisted round the branches, and stretching out +their heads to the evening sun. Then, again, began a whispering and +twittering in the same words as before, and the little snakes went +gliding and caressing up and down through the twigs; and while they +moved so rapidly, it was as if the elder-bush were scattering a +thousand glittering emeralds through the dark leaves. + +"It is the evening sun which sports so in the elder-bush," thought the +student Anselmus; but the bells sounded again, and Anselmus observed +that one Snake held out its little head to him. Through all his limbs +there went a shock like electricity; he quivered in his inmost heart; +he kept gazing up, and a pair of glorious dark-blue eyes were looking +at him with unspeakable longing; and an unknown feeling of highest +blessedness and deepest sorrow was like to rend his heart asunder. +And as he looked, and still looked, full of warm desire, into these +charming eyes, the crystal bells sounded louder in harmonious accord, +and the glittering emeralds fell down and encircled him, flickering +round him in thousand sparkles, and sporting in resplendent threads +of gold. The Elder-bush moved and spoke: "Thou layest in my shadow; my +perfume flowed round thee, but thou understoodst me not. The perfume +is my speech, when Love kindles it." The Evening-Wind came gliding +past, and said: "I played round thy temples, but thou understoodst me +not. Breath is my speech, when Love kindles it." The sunbeams broke +through the clouds, and the sheen of it burnt, as in words: "I +overflowed thee with glowing gold, but thou understoodst me not. Glow +is my speech, when Love kindles it." + +And, still deeper and deeper sunk in the view of these glorious eyes, +his longing grew keener, his desire more warm. And all rose and moved +around him, as if awakening to joyous life. Flowers and blossoms shed +their odors round him; and their odor was like the lordly singing of +a thousand softest voices; and what they sung was borne, like an +echo, on the golden evening clouds, as they flitted away, into far-off +lands. But as the last sunbeam abruptly sank behind the hills, and +the twilight threw its veil over the scene, there came a hoarse deep +voice, as from a great distance: + +"Hey! hey! what chattering and jingling is that up there? Hey! hey! +who catches me the ray behind the hills? Sunned enough, sung enough. +Hey! hey! through bush and grass, through grass and stream! Hey! hey! +Come dow-w-n, dow-w-w-n!" + +So faded the voice away, as in murmurs of a distant thunder; but the +crystal bells broke off in sharp discords. All became mute; and +the student Anselmus observed how the three snakes, glittering and +sparkling, glided through the grass toward the river; rustling and +hustling, they rushed into the Elbe; and over the waves where they +vanished, there crackled up a green flame, which, gleaming forward +obliquely, vanished in the direction of the city. + + + + +SECOND VIGIL + + How the student Anselmus was looked upon as drunk and mad. The + crossing of the Elbe. Bandmaster Graun's Bravura. Conradi's + Stomachic Liqueur, and the bronzed Apple-Woman. + + +"The gentleman seems not to be in his right wits!" said a respectable +burgher's wife, who, returning from a walk with her family, had paused +here, and, with crossed arms, was looking at the mad pranks of the +student Anselmus. Anselmus had clasped the trunk of the elder-tree, +and was calling incessantly up to the branches and leaves: "O glitter +and shine once more, ye dear gold snakes; let me hear your little +bell-voices once more! Look on me once more, ye kind eyes; O once, or +I must die in pain and ardent longing!" And with this, he was sighing +and sobbing from the bottom of his heart most pitifully, and, in his +eagerness and impatience, shaking the elder-tree to and fro; which, +however, instead of any reply, rustled quite gloomily and inaudibly +with its leaves, and so rather seemed, as it were, to make sport of +the student Anselmus and his sorrows. + +"The gentleman seemingly is not in his right wits!" said the burgher's +wife; and Anselmus felt as if you had shaken him out of a deep dream, +or poured ice-cold water on him, that he might awaken without loss +of time. He now first saw clearly where he was and recollected what a +strange apparition had teased him, nay, so beguiled his senses as to +make him break forth into loud talk with himself. In astonishment, +he gazed at the woman; and at last, snatching up his hat, which had +fallen to the ground in his transport, was for making off in all +speed. The burgher himself had come forward in the meanwhile; and, +setting down the child from his arm on the grass, had been leaning on +his staff, and with amazement listening and looking at the student. +He now picked up the pipe and tobacco-pouch which the student had let +fall, and, holding them out to him, said: "Don't take on so dreadfully +in the dark, my worthy sir, or alarm people, when nothing is the +matter, after all, but having taken a sip too much; go home, like a +pretty man, and take a nap of sleep on it." + +The student Anselmus felt exceedingly ashamed; he uttered nothing but +a most lamentable Ah! + +"Pooh! Pooh!" said the burgher, "never mind it a jot; such a thing +will happen to the best; on good old Ascension-day a man may readily +enough forget himself in his joy, and gulp down a thought too much. +A clergyman himself is no worse for it: I presume, my worthy sir, you +are a _Candidatus_.--But, with your leave, sir, I shall fill my pipe +with your tobacco; mine went out a little while ago." + +This last sentence the burgher uttered while the student Anselmus was +about putting up his pipe and pouch; and now the burgher slowly and +deliberately cleaned his pipe, and began as slowly to fill it. Several +burgher girls had come up; they were speaking secretly with the woman +and one another, and tittering as they looked at Anselmus. The student +felt as if he were standing on prickly thorns and burning needles. No +sooner had he recovered his pipe and tobacco-pouch, than he darted off +at the height of his speed. + +All the strange things he had seen were clean gone from his memory; he +simply recollected having babbled all manner of foolish stuff beneath +the elder-tree. This was the more shocking to him, as he entertained +from of old an inward horror against all soliloquists. It is Satan +that chatters out of them, said his Rector; and Anselmus shared +honestly his belief. To be regarded as a _Candidatus Theologiae_, +overtaken with drink on Ascension-day! The thought was intolerable. + +He was just about turning up the Poplar Alley, by the Kosel Garden, +when a voice behind him called out: "Herr Anselmus! Herr Anselmus! +for the love of Heaven, whither are you running in such haste?" The +student paused, as if rooted to the ground; for he was convinced that +now some new mischance would befall him. The voice rose again: "Herr +Anselmus, come back, then; we are waiting for you here at the water!" +And now the student perceived that it was his friend Conrector +Paulmann's voice; he went back to the Elbe, and found the Conrector, +with his two daughters, as well as Registrator Heerbrand, all on the +point of stepping into their gondola. Conrector Paulmann invited the +student to go with them across the Elbe, and then to pass the evening +at his house in the Pirna suburb. The student Anselmus very gladly +accepted this proposal, thinking thereby to escape the malignant +destiny which had ruled over him all day. + +Now, as they were crossing the river, it chanced that, on the farther +bank, near the Anton Garden, fireworks were just going off. Sputtering +and hissing, the rockets went aloft, and their blazing stars flew +to pieces in the air, scattering a thousand vague shoots and flashes +round them. The student Anselmus was sitting by the steersman, sunk in +deep thought; but when he noticed in the water the reflection of +these darting and wavering sparks and flames, he felt as if it was the +little golden snakes that were sporting in the flood. All the strange +things he had seen at the elder-tree again started forth into his +heart and thoughts; and again that unspeakable longing, that glowing +desire, laid hold of him here, which had before agitated his bosom in +painful spasms of rapture. + +"Ah! is it you again, my little golden snakes? Sing now, O sing! In +your song let the kind, dear, dark-blue eyes again appear to me.--Ah? +are ye under the waves, then?" + +So cried the student Anselmus, and at the same time made a violent +movement, as if he were for plunging from the gondola into the river. + +"Is the Devil in you, sir?" exclaimed the steersman, and clutched +him by the coat-tail. The girls, who were sitting by him, shrieked +in terror, and fled to the other side of the gondola. Registrator +Heerbrand whispered something in Conrector Paulmann's ear, to +which the latter answered, but in so low a tone that Anselmus could +distinguish nothing but the words: "Such attacks--never noticed them +before?" Directly after this, Conrector Paulmann also rose, and then +sat down, with a certain earnest, grave, official mien, beside the +student Anselmus, taking his hand, and saying: "How are you, Herr +Anselmus?" The student Anselmus was like to lose his wits, for in his +mind there was a mad distraction, which he strove in vain to soothe. +He now saw plainly that what he had taken for the gleaming of the +golden snakes was nothing but the reflection of the fireworks in +Anton's Garden: but a feeling unexperienced till now, he himself knew +not whether it was rapture or pain, cramped his breast together; and +when the steersman struck through the water with his helm, so that the +waves, curling as in anger, gurgled and chafed, he heard in their din +a soft whispering: "Anselmus! Anselmus! seest thou not how we still +skim along before thee? Sisterkin looks at thee again; believe, +believe, believe in us!" And he thought he saw in the reflected light +three green-glowing streaks; but then, when he gazed, full of fond +sadness, into the water, to see whether these gentle eyes would not +again look up to him, he perceived too well that the shine proceeded +only from the windows in the neighboring houses. He was sitting mute +in his place, and inwardly battling with himself, when Conrector +Paulman repeated, with still greater emphasis: "How are you, Herr +Anselmus?" + +With the most rueful tone, Anselmus replied: "Ah! Herr Conrector, if +you knew what strange things I have been dreaming, quite awake, +with open eyes, just now, under an elder-tree at the wall of Linke's +garden, you would not take it amiss of me that I am a little absent, +or so." + +"Ey, ey, Herr Anselmus!" interrupted Conrector Paulmann, "I have +always taken you for a solid young man; but to dream, to dream with +your eyes wide open, and then, all at once, to start up for leaping +into the water! This, begging your pardon, is what only fools or +madmen could do." + +The student Anselmus was deeply affected at his friend's hard saying; +then Veronica, Paulmann's eldest daughter, a most pretty blooming +girl of sixteen, addressed her father: "But, dear father, something +singular must have befallen Herr Anselmus; and perhaps he only thinks +he was awake, while he may really have been asleep, and so all +manner of wild stuff has come into his head and is still lying in his +thoughts." + +"And, dearest Mademoiselle! Worthy Conrector!" interrupted Registrator +Heerbrand, "may one not, even when awake, sometimes sink into a sort +of dreaming state? I myself have had such fits. One afternoon, for +instance, during coffee, in a sort of brown study like this, in the +very moment of corporeal and spiritual digestion, the place where a +lost document was lying occurred to me, as if by inspiration; and last +night, no further gone, there came glorious large Latin WRIT tripping +out before my open eyes, in the very same way." + +"Ah! most honored Registrator," answered Conrector Paulmann, "you +have always had a tendency to the _Poetica_; and thus one falls into +fantasies and romantic humors." + +The student Anselmus, however, was particularly gratified that in this +most troublous situation, while in danger of being considered drunk or +crazy, any one should take his part; and though it was already fairly +dark, he thought he noticed, for the first time, that Veronica had +really very fine dark-blue eyes, and this too without remembering the +strange pair which he had looked at in the elder-bush. On the whole, +the adventure under the elder-bush had once more entirely vanished +from the thoughts of the student Anselmus; he felt himself at ease and +light of heart; nay, in the capriciousness of joy, he carried it so +far that he offered a helping hand to his fair advocate, Veronica, as +she was stepping from the gondola; and without more ado, as she put +her arm in his, escorted her home with so much dexterity and good luck +that he missed his footing only once, and this being the only wet spot +in the whole road, spattered Veronica's white gown only a very little +by the incident. + +Conrector Paulmann failed not to observe this happy change in +the student Anselmus; he resumed his liking for him, and begged +forgiveness for the hard words which he had let fall before. "Yes," +added he, "we have many examples to show that certain phantasms may +rise before a man and pester and plague him not a little; but this is +bodily disease, and leeches are good for it, if applied to the right +part, as a certain learned physician, now deceased, has directed." The +student Anselmus knew not whether he had been drunk, crazy, or sick; +but at all events the leeches seemed entirely superfluous, as these +supposed phantasms had utterly vanished, and the student himself was +growing happier and happier, the more he prospered in serving the +pretty Veronica with all sorts of dainty attentions. + +As usual, after the frugal meal, came music; the student Anselmus had +to take his seat before the harpsichord, and Veronica accompanied +his playing with her pure clear voice. "Dear Mademoiselle," said +Registrator Heerbrand, "you have a voice like a crystal bell!" + +"That she has not!" ejaculated the student Anselmus, he scarcely +knew how. "Crystal bells in elder-trees sound strangely, strangely!" +continued the student Anselmus, murmuring half aloud. + +Veronica laid her hand on his shoulder, and asked: "What are you +saying now, Herr Anselmus?" + +Instantly Anselmus recovered his cheerfulness, and began playing. +Conrector Paulmann gave a grim look at him; but Registrator Heerbrand +laid a music-leaf on the frame, and sang with ravishing grace one +of Bandmaster Graun's bravura airs. The student Anselmus accompanied +this, and much more; and a fantasy duet, which Veronica and he now +fingered, and Conrector Paulmann had himself composed, again brought +all into the gayest humor. + +It was now quite late, and Registrator Heerbrand was taking up his hat +and stick, when Conrector Paulmann went up to him with a mysterious +air, and said: "Hem!--Would not you, honored Registrator, mention to +the good Herr Anselmus himself--Hem! what we were speaking of before?" + +"With all the pleasure in nature," said Registrator Heerbrand; and +after all were seated in a circle, he began, without farther preamble, +as follows: + +"In this city is an old, strange, remarkable man; people say he +follows all manner of secret sciences; but as there are no such +sciences, I rather take him for an antiquary, and, along with +this, for an experimental chemist. I mean no other than our Privy +Archivarius Lindhorst. He lives, as you know, by himself, in his old +sequestered house; and when disengaged from his office he is to +be found in his library, or in his chemical laboratory, to which, +however, he admits no stranger. Besides many curious books, he +possesses a number of manuscripts, partly Arabic, Coptic, and some of +them in strange characters which belong not to any known tongue. These +he wishes to have copied properly; and for this purpose he requires +a man who can draw with the pen, and so transfer these marks to +parchment, in Indian ink, with the highest strictness and fidelity. +The work is carried on in a separate chamber of his house, under his +own oversight; and besides free board during the time of business, he +pays his man a specie-dollar, daily, and promises a handsome present +when the copying is rightly finished. The hours of work are from +twelve to six. From three to four, you take rest and dinner. + +"Herr Archivarius Lindhorst having in vain tried one or two young +people for copying these manuscripts, has at last applied to me to +find him an expert drawer; and so I have been thinking of you, +dear Herr Anselmus, for I know that you both write very neatly, and +likewise draw with the pen to great perfection. Now, if in these bad +times, and till your future establishment, you would like to earn a +speziesthaler in the day, and this present over and above, you can go +tomorrow precisely at noon, and call upon the Archivarius, whose house +no doubt you know. But be on your guard against any blot! If such a +thing falls on your copy, you must begin it again; if it falls on the +original, the Archivarius will think nothing of throwing you out of +the window, for he is a hot-tempered gentleman." + +The student Anselmus was filled with joy at Registrator Heerbrand's +proposal; for not only could the student write well and draw well +with the pen, but this copying with laborious calligraphic pains was +a thing he delighted in beyond aught else. So he thanked his patron in +the most grateful terms, and promised not to fail at noon tomorrow. + +All night the student Anselmus saw nothing but clear speziesthalers, +and heard nothing but their lovely clink. Who could blame the poor +youth, cheated of so many hopes by capricious destiny, obliged to take +counsel about every farthing, and to forego so many joys which a young +heart requires! Early in the morning he brought out his black-lead +pencils, his crow-quills, his Indian ink; for better materials, +thought he, the Archivarius can find nowhere. Above all, he mustered +and arranged his calligraphic masterpieces and his drawings, to show +them to the Archivarius, in proof of his ability to do what he wished. +All prospered with the student; a peculiar happy star seemed to be +presiding over him; his neckcloth sat right at the very first trial; +no tack burst; no loop gave way in his black silk stockings; his hat +did not once fall to the dust after he had trimmed it. In a word, +precisely at half-past eleven, the student Anselmus, in his pike-gray +frock, and black satin lower habiliments, with a roll of calligraphics +and pen-drawings in his pocket, was standing in the Schlossgasse, in +Conradi's shop, and drinking one--two glasses of the best stomachic +liqueur; for here, thought he, slapping on the still empty pocket, for +here speziesthalers will be clinking soon. + +Notwithstanding the distance of the solitary street where the +Archivarius Lindhorst's very ancient residence lay, the student +Anselmus was at the front door before the stroke of twelve. He stood +here, and was looking at the large fine bronze knocker; but now when, +as the last stroke tingled through the air with loud clang from the +steeple-clock of the Kreuzkirche, he lifted his hand to grasp this +same knocker, the metal visage twisted itself, with horrid rolling +of its blue-gleaming eyes, into a grinning smile. Alas, it was the +Apple-woman of the Black Gate! The pointed teeth gnashed together in +the loose jaws, and in their chattering through the skinny lips +there was a growl of: "Thou fool, fool, fool!--Wait, wait!--Why +didst run!--Fool!" Horror-struck, the student Anselmus flew back; +he clutched at the door-post, but his hand caught the bell-rope and +pulled it, and in piercing discords it rung stronger and stronger, and +through the whole empty house the echo repeated, as in mockery: "To +the crystal fall!" An unearthly terror seized the student Anselmus, +and quivered through all his limbs. The bell-rope lengthened downward, +and became a white, transparent, gigantic serpent, which encircled and +crushed him, and girded him straiter and straiter in its coils, till +his brittle, paralyzed limbs went crashing in pieces, and the blood +spouted from his veins, penetrating into the transparent body of the +serpent, and dyeing it red. "Kill me! Kill me!" he would have cried, +in his horrible agony; but the cry was only a stifled gurgle in his +throat. The serpent lifted its head, and laid its long peaked tongue +of glowing brass on the breast of Anselmus; then a fierce pang +suddenly cut asunder the artery of life, and thought fled away +from him. On returning to his senses, he was lying on his own poor +truckle-bed; Conrector Paulmann was standing before him, and saying: +"For Heaven's sake, what mad stuff is this, dear Herr Anselmus?" + + + + +SIXTH VIGIL + + Archivarius Lindhorst's Garden, with some Mocking birds. The Golden + Pot. English current-hand. Pot-hooks. The Prince of the Spirits. + + +"It may be, after all," said the student Anselmus to himself, "that +the superfine, strong, stomachic liqueur, which I took somewhat freely +at Monsieur Conradi's, might really be the cause of all these shocking +phantasms which so tortured me at Archivarius Lindhorst's door. +Therefore, I will go quite sober today, and so bid defiance to +whatever further mischief may assail me." On this occasion, as before, +when equipping himself for his first call on Archivarius Lindhorst, +the student Anselmus put his pen-drawings and calligraphic +masterpieces, his bars of Indian ink, and his well-pointed crow-pens, +into his pockets; and was just turning to go out, when his eye lighted +on the vial with the yellow liqueur, which he had received from +Archivarius Lindhorst. All the strange adventures he had met with +again rose on his mind in glowing colors; and a nameless emotion +of rapture and pain thrilled through his breast. Involuntarily he +exclaimed, with a most piteous voice: "Ah, am I not going to +the Archivarius solely for a sight of thee, thou gentle lovely +Serpentina!" At that moment he felt as if Serpentina's love might be +the prize of some laborious perilous task which he had to undertake, +and as if this task were no other than the copying of the Lindhorst +manuscripts. That at his very entrance into the house, or, more +properly, before his entrance, all manner of mysterious things might +happen, as of late, was no more than he anticipated. He thought no +more of Conradi's strong water, but hastily put the vial of liqueur +in his waistcoat-pocket that he might act strictly by the Archivarius' +directions, should the bronzed Apple-woman again take it upon her to +make faces at him. + +And did not the hawk-nose actually peak itself, did not the cat-eyes +actually glare from the knocker, as he raised his hand to it, at the +stroke of twelve? But now, without further ceremony, he dribbled his +liqueur into the pestilent visage; and it folded and molded itself, +that instant, down to a glittering bowl-round knocker. The door went +up; the bells sounded beautifully over all the house: "Klingling, +youngling, in, in, spring, spring, klingling." In good heart he +mounted the fine broad stair and feasted on the odors of some strange +perfumery that was floating through the house. In doubt, he paused on +the lobby; for he knew not at which of these many fine doors he was to +knock. But Archivarius Lindhorst, in a white damask nightgown, stepped +forth to him, and said: "Well, it is a real pleasure to me, Herr +Anselmus, that you have kept your word at last. Come this way, if you +please; I must take you straight into the Laboratory;" and with this +he stepped rapidly through the lobby, and opened a little side-door +which led into a long passage. Anselmus walked on in high spirits, +behind the Archivarius; they passed from this corridor into a hall, +or rather into a lordly green-house: for on both sides, up to the +ceiling, stood all manner of rare wondrous flowers, nay, great trees +with strangely-formed leaves and blossoms. A magic dazzling light +shone over the whole, though you could not discover whence it came, +for no window whatever was to be seen. As the student Anselmus looked +in through the bushes and trees, long avenues appeared to open +in remote distance. In the deep shade of thick cypress groves lay +glittering marble fountains, out of which rose wondrous figures, +spouting crystal jets that fell with pattering spray into gleaming +lily-cups; strange voices cooed and rustled through the wood of +curious trees; and sweetest perfumes streamed up and down. + +The Archivarius had vanished, and Anselmus saw nothing but a huge bush +of glowing fire-lilies before him. Intoxicated with the sight and the +fine odors of this fairy-garden, Anselmus stood fixed to the spot. +Then began on all sides of him a giggling and laughing; and light +little voices railed and mocked him: "Herr Studiosus! Herr Studiosus! +Where are you coming from? Why are you dressed so bravely, Herr +Anselmus? Will you chat with us for a minute, how grandmammy sat +squatting down upon the egg, and young master got a stain on his +Sunday waistcoat?--Can you play the new tune, now, which you learned +from Daddy Cocka-doodle, Herr Anselmus?--You look very fine in your +glass periwig, and post-paper boots." So cried and chattered and +sniggered the little voices, out of every corner, nay, close by the +student himself, who but now observed that all sorts of party-colored +birds were fluttering above him and jeering him in hearty laughter. +At that moment the bush of fire-lilies advanced toward him; and he +perceived that it was Archivarius Lindhorst, whose flowered nightgown, +glittering in red and yellow, had so far deceived his eyes. + +"I beg your pardon, worthy Herr Anselmus," said the Archivarius, "for +leaving you alone; I wished, in passing, to take a peep at my fine +cactus, which is to blossom tonight. But how like you my little +house-garden?" + +"Ah, Heaven! Immeasurably pretty it is, most valued Herr Archivarius," +replied the student; "but those party-colored birds have been +bantering me a little." + +"What wishy-washy is this?" cried the Archivarius angrily into the +bushes. Then a huge gray parrot came fluttering out, and perched +itself beside the Archivarius on a myrtle-bough; and looking at him +with an uncommon earnestness and gravity through a pair of spectacles +that stuck on his hooked bill, it shrilled out: "Don't take it amiss, +Herr Archivarius; my wild boys have been a little free or so; but the +Herr Studiosus has himself to blame in the matter, for----" + +"Hush! hush!" interrupted Archivarius Lindhorst; "I know the varlets; +but thou must keep them in better discipline, my friend!--Now, come +along, Herr Anselmus." + +And the Archivarius again stepped forth, through many a +strangely-decorated chamber; so that the student Anselmus, in +following him, could scarcely give a glance at all the glittering +wondrous furniture, and other unknown things, with which the whole of +them were filled. At last they entered a large apartment, where the +Archivarius, casting his eyes aloft, stood still; and Anselmus +got time to feast himself on the glorious sight which the simple +decoration of this hall afforded. Jutting from the azure-colored walls +rose gold-bronze trunks of high palm-trees, which wove their colossal +leaves, glittering like bright emeralds, into a ceiling far up; in the +middle of the chamber, and resting on three Egyptian lions, cast +out of dark bronze, lay a porphyry plate; and on this stood a simple +Golden Pot, from which, so soon as he beheld it, Anselmus could not +turn away an eye. It was as if, in a thousand gleaming reflections, +all sorts of shapes were sporting on the bright polished gold; often +he perceived his own form, with arms stretched out in longing--ah! +beneath the elder-bush--and Serpentina was winding and shooting up and +down, and again looking at him with her kind eyes. Anselmus was beside +himself with frantic rapture. + +"Serpentina! Serpentina!" cried he aloud; and Archivarius Lindhorst +whirled round abruptly, and said: "How now, worthy Herr Anselmus? If +I mistake not, you were pleased to call for my daughter; she is way +in the other side of the house at present, and indeed just taking her +lesson on the harpsichord. Let us go over." + +Anselmus, scarcely knowing what he did, followed his conductor; he saw +or heard nothing more, till Archivarius Lindhorst suddenly grasped his +hand, and said: "Here is the place!" Anselmus awoke as from a dream, +and now perceived that he was in a high room, all lined on every side +with book-shelves, and nowise differing from a common library and +study. In the middle stood a large writing-table, with a stuffed +arm-chair before it. "This," said Archivarius Lindhorst, "is your +work-room for the present: whether you may work, some other time, in +the blue library, also where you so suddenly called out my daughter's +name, I yet know not. But now I could wish to convince myself of your +ability to execute this task appointed to you, in the way I wish it +and need it." The student here gathered full courage; and not without +internal self-complacence in the certainty of highly gratifying +Archivarius Lindhorst through his extraordinary talents, pulled out +his drawings and specimens of penmanship from his pocket. But no +sooner had the Archivarius cast his eye on the first leaf, a piece of +writing in the finest English style, than he smiled very oddly, and +shook his head. These motions he repeated at every following leaf, so +that the student Anselmus felt the blood mounting to his face; and at +last, when the smile became quite sarcastic and contemptuous, he +broke out in downright vexation: "The Herr Archivarius does not seem +contented with my poor talents." + +"Dear Herr Anselmus," said Archivarius Lindhorst, "you have indeed +fine capacities for the art of calligraphy; but, in the meanwhile, it +is clear enough, I must reckon more on your diligence and good-will +than on your capacity." + +The student Anselmus spoke largely of his often-acknowledged +perfection in this art, of his fine Chinese ink, and most select +crow-quills. But Archivarius Lindhorst handed him the English sheet, +and said: "Be judge yourself!" Anselmus felt as if struck by a +thunderbolt, to see his handwriting look so: it was miserable, beyond +measure. There was no rounding in the turns, no hair-stroke where it +should be; no proportion between the capital and single letters; nay, +villainous school-boy pot-hooks often spoiled the best lines. "And +then," continued Archivarius Lindhorst, "your ink will not stand." He +dipped his finger in a glass of water, and as he just skimmed it over +the lines they vanished without vestige. The student Anselmus felt as +if some monster were throttling him; he could not utter a word. There +stood he with the unlucky sheet in his hand; but Archivarius Lindhorst +laughed aloud, and said: "Never mind it, dearest Herr Anselmus; what +you could not accomplish before, will perhaps do better here. At any +rate, you shall have better materials than you have been accustomed +to. Begin, in Heaven's name!" + +From a locked press Archivarius Lindhorst now brought out a black +fluid substance, which diffused a most peculiar odor; also pens, +sharply pointed and of strange color, together with a sheet of +especial whiteness and smoothness; then at last an Arabic manuscript; +and as Anselmus sat down to work, the Archivarius left the room. The +student Anselmus had often before copied Arabic manuscripts; the first +problem, therefore, seemed to him not so very difficult to solve. "How +these pot-hooks came into my fine English current-hand, Heaven and +Archivarius Lindhorst know best," said he; "but that they are not from +_my_ hand, I will testify to the death!" At every new word that stood +fair and perfect on the parchment, his courage increased, and with it +his adroitness. In truth, these pens wrote exquisitely well; and the +mysterious ink flowed pliantly and black as jet, on the bright white +parchment. And as he worked along so diligently and with such strained +attention, he began to feel more and more at home in the solitary +room; and already he had quite fitted himself into his task, which he +now hoped to finish well, when at the stroke of three the Archivarius +called him into the side-room to a savory dinner. At table, +Archivarius Lindhorst was in special gaiety of heart; he inquired +about the student Anselmus' friends, Conrector Paulmann, and +Registrator Heerbrand, and of the latter especially he had a store +of merry anecdotes to tell. The good old Rhenish was particularly +grateful to the student Anselmus, and made him more talkative than he +was wont to be. At the stroke of four he rose to resume his labor; and +this punctuality appeared to please the Archivarius. + +If the copying of these Arabic manuscripts had prospered in his hands +before dinner, the task now went forward much better; nay, he could +not himself comprehend the rapidity and ease with which he succeeded +in transcribing the twisted strokes of this foreign character. But +it was as if, in his inmost soul, a voice were whispering in audible +words: "Ah! couldst thou accomplish it wert thou not thinking of +_her_, didst thou not believe in _her_ and in her love?" Then there +floated whispers, as in low, low, waving crystal tones, through the +room: "I am near, near, near! I help thee; be bold, be steadfast, dear +Anselmus! I toil with thee, that thou mayest be mine!" And as, in +the fulness of secret rapture, he caught these sounds, the unknown +characters grew clearer and clearer to him; he scarcely required +to look on the original at all; nay, it was as if the letters were +already standing in pale ink on the parchment, and he had nothing more +to do than mark them black. So did he labor on, encompassed with dear, +consoling tones as with soft, sweet breath, till the clock struck six, +and Archivarius Lindhorst entered the room. He came forward to +the table, with a singular smile; Anselmus rose in silence; the +Archivarius still looked at him, with that mocking smile; but no +sooner had he glanced over the copy than the smile passed into deep, +solemn earnestness, which every feature of his face adapted itself to +express. He seemed no longer the same. His eyes, which usually gleamed +with sparkling fire, now looked with unutterable mildness at Anselmus; +a soft red tinted the pale cheeks; and instead of the irony which at +other times compressed the mouth, the softly-curved, graceful lips now +seemed to be opening for wise and soul-persuading speech. The whole +form was higher, statelier; the wide nightgown spread itself like a +royal mantle in broad folds over his breast and shoulders; and through +the white locks, which lay on his high open brow, there was wound a +thin band of gold. + +"Young man," began the Archivarius in solemn tone, "before thou +thoughtest of it, I knew thee, and all the secret relations which +bind thee to the dearest and holiest I have on earth! Serpentina loves +thee; a singular destiny, whose fateful threads were spun by hostile +powers, is fulfilled should she be thine and thou obtain, as an +essential dowry, the Golden Pot, which of right belongs to her. But +only from effort and contest can thy happiness in the higher life +arise; hostile Principles assail thee; and only the interior force +with which thou shalt withstand these assaults can save thee from +disgrace and ruin. Whilst laboring here thou art passing your +apprenticeship; belief and full knowledge will lead thee to the near +goal, if thou but hold fast what thou hast well begun. Bear _her_ +always and truly in thy thoughts, her who loves thee; then shalt thou +see the marvels of the Golden Pot, and be happy forevermore. Fare +thee well! Archivarius Lindhorst expects thee tomorrow at noon in +thy cabinet. Fare thee well!" With these words Archivarius Lindhorst +softly pushed the student Anselmus out of the door, which he then +locked; and Anselmus found himself in the chamber where he had dined, +the single door of which led out to the lobby. + +Altogether stupified with these strange phenomena, the student +Anselmus stood lingering at the street-door; he heard a window open +above him, and looked up: it was Archivarius Lindhorst, quite the +old man again, in his light-gray gown, as he usually appeared. The +Archivarius called to him: "Hey, worthy Herr Anselmus, what are +you studying over there? Tush, the Arabic is still in your head. +My compliments to Herr Conrector Paulmann, if you see him; and come +tomorrow precisely at noon. The fee for this day is lying in your +right waistcoat-pocket." The student Anselmus actually found the clear +speziesthaler in the pocket indicated; but he took no joy in it. "What +is to come of all this," said he to himself, "I know not; but if it +be some mad delusion and conjuring work that has laid hold of me, the +dear Serpentina still lives and moves in my inward heart, and rather +than leave her I will perish altogether; for I know that the thought +in me is eternal, and no hostile Principle can take it from me; and +what else is this thought but Serpentina's love?" + + + + +EIGHTH VIGIL + + The Library of the Palm-trees. Fortunes of an unhappy Salamander. + How the Black Quill caressed a Parsnip, and Registrator Heerbrand + was much overcome with Liqueur. + + +The student Anselmus had now worked several days with Archivarius +Lindhorst; these working hours were for him the happiest of his life; +ever encircled with the lovely tone of Serpentina's encouraging words, +he was filled and overflowed with a pure delight, which often rose +to highest rapture. Every strait, every little care of his needy +existence, had vanished from his thoughts; and in the new life which +had risen on him as in serene sunny splendor, he comprehended all +the wonders of a higher world, which before had filled him with +astonishment, nay, with dread. His copying proceeded rapidly and +lightly, for he felt more and more as if he were writing characters +long known to him; and he scarcely needed to cast his eye upon the +manuscript, while copying it all with the greatest exactness. + +Except at the hour of dinner, Archivarius Lindhorst seldom made his +appearance, and this always precisely at the moment when Anselmus +had finished the last letter of some manuscript; then the Archivarius +would hand him another, and, directly after, leave him without +uttering a word, having first stirred the ink with a little black rod +and changed the old pens with new sharp-pointed ones. One day, when +Anselmus, at the stroke of twelve, had as usual mounted the stairs, he +found the door through which he commonly entered, standing locked; and +Archivarius Lindhorst came forward from the other side, dressed in his +strange flower-figured nightgown. He called aloud: "Today come this +way, dear Anselmus; for we must to the chamber where Bhogovotgita's +masters are waiting for us." + +He stepped along the corridor, and led Anselmus through the same +chambers and halls as at the first visit. The student Anselmus again +felt astonished at the marvelous beauty of the garden; but he now +perceived that many of the strange flowers, hanging on the dark +bushes, were in truth insects gleaming with lordly colors, hovering +up and down with their little wings as they danced and whirled in +clusters, caressing one another with their antennae. On the other hand +again, the rose and azure-colored birds were odoriferous flowers; +and the perfume which they scattered mounted from their cups in low, +lovely tones, which, with the gurgling of distant fountains, and the +sighing of the high shrubs and trees, melted into mysterious harmonies +of a deep unutterable longing. The mocking-birds, which had so jeered +and flouted him before, were again fluttering to and fro over his +head and crying incessantly with their sharp, small voices: "Herr +Studiosus, Herr Studiosus, don't be in such a hurry! Don't peep into +the clouds so! You may fall on your nose--He, he! Herr Studiosus, put +your powder-mantle on; cousin Screech-Owl will frizzle your toupee." +And so it went along, in all manner of stupid chatter, till Anselmus +left the garden. + +Archivarius Lindhorst at last stepped into the azure chamber; the +porphyry, with the Golden Pot, was gone; instead of it, in the middle +of the room, stood a table overhung with violet-colored satin, upon +which lay the writing-materials already known to Anselmus; and a +stuffed arm-chair, covered with the same sort of cloth, was placed +before it. + +"Dear Herr Anselmus," said Archivarius Lindhorst, "you have now copied +me a number of manuscripts, rapidly and correctly, to my no small +contentment: you have gained my confidence; but the hardest is yet to +come; and that is the transcribing or rather painting of certain works +after the original, composed of peculiar signs; I keep them in this +room, and they can be copied only on the spot. You will, therefore, in +future, work here; but I must recommend to you the greatest foresight +and attention; a false stroke, or, which may Heaven forefend, a blot +let fall on the original, will plunge you into misfortune." + +Anselmus observed that from the golden trunks of the palm-trees, +little emerald leaves projected: one of these leaves the Archivarius +took hold of; and Anselmus could not but perceive that the leaf was in +truth a roll of parchment, which the Archivarius unfolded and spread +out before the student on the table. Anselmus wondered not a little +at these strangely intertwisted characters; and as he looked over +the many points, strokes, dashes, and twirls in the manuscript, which +seemed to represent either plants or mosses or animal figures, he +almost lost hope of ever copying it. He fell into deep thought on the +subject. + +"Be of courage, young man!" cried the Archivarius; "if thou hast +sterling faith and true love, Serpentina will help thee." + +His voice sounded like ringing metal; and as Anselmus looked up in +utter terror, Archivarius Lindhorst was standing before him in the +kingly form, which, during the first visit, he had assumed in the +library. Anselmus felt as if in his deep reverence he could not +but sink on his knee; but the Archivarius stepped up the trunk of a +palm-tree, and vanished aloft among the emerald leaves. The student +Anselmus understood that the Prince of the Spirits had been speaking +with him, and was now gone up to his study; perhaps intending to +advise with the beams which some of the planets had dispatched to him +as envoys, on what was to become of Anselmus and Serpentina. + +"It may be too," thought he further, "that he is expecting news from +the Springs of the Nile; or that some magician from Lapland is paying +him a visit; me it behooves to set diligently about my task." And +with this, he began studying the foreign characters in the roll of +parchment. + +The strange music of the garden sounded over to him and encircled him +with sweet lovely odors; the mocking-birds too he still heard chirping +and twittering, but could not distinguish their words--a thing which +greatly pleased him. At times also it was as if the emerald leaves of +the palm-trees were rustling, and as if the clear crystal tones, which +Anselmus on that fateful Ascension-day had heard under the elder-bush, +were beaming and flitting through the room. Wonderfully strengthened +by this shining and tinkling, the student Anselmus directed his eyes +and thoughts more and more intensely on the superscription of the +parchment roll; and ere long he felt, as it were from his inmost soul, +that the characters could denote nothing else than these words: _Of +the marriage of the Salamander with the green Snake_. Then resounded +a louder triphony of clear crystal bells; "Anselmus! dear Anselmus!" +floated to him from the leaves; and, O wonder! on the trunk of the +palm-tree the green Snake came winding down. + +"Serpentina! Serpentina!" cried Anselmus, in the madness of highest +rapture; for as he gazed more earnestly, it was in truth a lovely, +glorious maiden that, looking at him with those dark-blue eyes, full +of inexpressible longing, as they lived in his heart, was hovering +down to meet him. The leaves seemed to jut out and expand; on every +hand were prickles sprouting from the trunks; but Serpentina twisted +and wound herself deftly through them; and so drew her fluttering +robe, framing her as if in changeful colors, along with her, that, +playing round the dainty form, it nowhere caught on the projecting +points and prickles of the palm-trees. She sat down by Anselmus on the +same chair, clasping him with her arm, and pressing him toward her, +so that he felt the breath which came from her lips, and the electric +warmth of her frame. + +"Dear Anselmus!" began Serpentina, "thou shalt now soon be wholly +mine; by thy faith, by thy Love thou shalt obtain me, and I will bring +thee the Golden Pot, which shall make us both happy forevermore." + +"O thou kind, lovely Serpentina!" said Anselmus. "If I have but thee, +what care I for all else! If thou art but mine, I will joyfully give +in to all the wondrous mysteries that have beset me ever since the +moment when I first saw thee." + +"I know," continued Serpentina, "that the strange and mysterious +things with which my father, often merely in the sport of his humor, +has surrounded thee, have raised horror and dread in thy mind; but +now, I hope, it shall be so no more; for I came now only to tell thee, +dear Anselmus, from the bottom of my heart and soul, all and sundry to +a tittle that thou needest to know for understanding my father, and so +learn the real condition of both of us." + +Anselmus felt as if he were so wholly clasped and encircled by the +gentle, lovely form, that only with her could he move and stir, and +as if it were but the beating of her pulse that throbbed through +his nerves and fibres; he listened to each one of her words which +penetrated his inmost heart, and, like a burning ray, kindled in him +the rapture of Heaven. He had put his arm round that daintier than +dainty waist; but the changeful glistering cloth of her robe was +so smooth and slippery that it seemed to him as if she could at any +moment wind herself from his arms, and glide away. He trembled at the +thought. + +"Ah, do not leave me, sweet Serpentina!" cried he involuntarily; "thou +alone art my life." + +"Not now," said Serpentina, "till I have told thee all that in thy +love of me thou canst comprehend." + +"Know then, dearest, that my father is sprung from the wondrous race +of the Salamanders; and that I owe my existence to his love for the +green Snake. In primeval times, in the Fairyland Atlantis, the potent +Spirit-prince Phosphorus bore rule; and to him the Salamanders, and +other Spirits of the Elements, were plighted. Once on a time, the +Salamander, whom he loved before all others (it was my father), +chanced to be walking in the stately garden, which Phosphorus' mother +had decked in the lordliest fashion with her best gifts; and the +Salamander heard a tall Lily singing in low tones: `Press down thy +little eyelids, till my Lover, the Morning-wind, awake thee.' He +stepped toward it: touched by his glowing breath, the Lily opened her +leaves; and he saw the Lily's daughter, the green Snake, lying asleep +in the hollow of the flower. Then was the Salamander inflamed with +warm love for the fair Snake; and he carried her away from the Lily, +whose perfumes in nameless lamentation vainly called for her beloved +daughter throughout all the garden. For the Salamander had borne her +into the palace of Phosphorus, and was there beseeching him: 'Wed me +with my beloved, for she shall be mine forevermore.' 'Madman, what +askest thou!' said the Prince of the Spirits; 'know that once the Lily +was my mistress, and bore rule with me; but the Spark, which I cast +into her, threatened to annihilate the fair Lily; and only my victory +over the black Dragon, whom now the Spirits of the Earth hold in +fetters, maintains her, that her leaves continue strong enough to +inclose this Spark and preserve it within them. But when thou claspest +the green Snake, thy fire will consume her frame; and a new Being, +rapidly arising from her dust, will soar away and leave thee.' + +"The Salamander heeded not the warning of the Spirit-prince: full of +longing ardor he folded the green Snake in his arms; she crumbled into +ashes; a winged Being, born from her dust, soared away through the +sky. Then the madness of desperation caught the Salamander, and he ran +through the garden, throwing forth fire and flames, and wasted it +in his wild fury, till its fairest flowers and blossoms hung down, +blackened and scathed, and their lamentation filled the air. The +indignant Prince of the Spirits, in his wrath, laid hold of the +Salamander, and said: 'Thy fire has burnt out, thy flames are +extinguished, thy rays darkened; sink down to the Spirits of the +Earth; let these mock and jeer thee, and keep thee captive, till the +Fire-element shall again kindle and beam up with thee as with a new +being from the Earth.' The poor Salamander sank down extinguished; +but now the testy old Earth-spirit, who was Phosphorus' gardener, +came forth and said: 'Master! who has greater cause to complain of the +Salamander than I? Had not all the fair flowers, which he has burnt, +been decorated with my gayest metals; had I not stoutly nursed and +tended their seeds, and spent many a fair hue on their leaves? And yet +I must pity the poor Salamander; for it was but love, in which thou, O +Master, hast full often been entangled, that drove him to despair +and made him desolate the garden. Remit him the too harsh +punishment!'--'His fire is for the present extinguished,' said the +Prince of the Spirits; 'but in the hapless time, when the Speech of +Nature shall no longer be intelligible to degenerate man; when the +Spirits of the Elements, banished into their own regions, shall speak +to him only from afar, in faint, spent echoes; when, displaced from +the harmonious circle, an infinite longing alone shall give him +tidings of the Land of Marvels, which he once might inhabit while +Faith and Love still dwelt in his soul--in this hapless time the fire +of the Salamander shall again kindle; but only to manhood shall he +be permitted to rise, and, entering wholly into man's necessitous +existence, he shall learn to endure its wants and oppressions. Yet not +only shall the remembrance of his first state continue with him, but +he shall again rise into the sacred harmony of all Nature; he shall +understand its wonders, and the power of his fellow-spirits shall +stand at his behest. Then, too, in a Lily-bush, shall he find the +green Snake again, and the fruit of his marriage with her shall be +three daughters, which, to men, shall appear in the form of their +mother. In the spring season these shall disport them in the dark +Elder-bush, and sound with their lovely crystal voices. And then if, +in that needy and mean age of inward obduracy, there shall be found +a youth who understands their song; nay, if one of the little Snakes +look at him with her kind eyes; if the look awaken in him forecastings +of the distant, wondrous Land, to which, having cast away the burden +of the Common, he can courageously soar; if, with love to the Snake, +there rise in him belief in the Wonders of Nature, nay, in his own +existence amid these Wonders--then the Snake shall be his. But not +till three youths of this sort have been found and wedded to the three +daughters, may the Salamander cast away his heavy burden, and return +to his brothers.'--'Permit me, Master,' said the Earth-spirit, 'to +make these three daughters a present, which may glorify their life +with the husbands they shall find. Let each of them receive from me +a Pot, of the fairest metal which I have; I will polish it with +beams borrowed from the diamond; in its glitter shall our Kingdom +of Wonders, as it now exists in the Harmony of universal Nature, be +mirrored in glorious dazzling reflection; and from its interior, on +the day of marriage, shall spring forth a Fire-lily, whose eternal +blossom shall encircle the youth that is found worthy, with sweet +wafting odors. Soon too shall he learn its speech, and understand +the wonders of our kingdom, and dwell with his beloved in Atlantis +itself.' + +"Thou perceivest well, dear Anselmus, that the Salamander of whom I +speak is no other than my father. Spite of his higher nature, he was +forced to subject himself to the paltriest afflictions of common life; +and hence, indeed, often comes the mischievous humor with which he +vexes many. He has told me now and then, that, for the inward make of +mind, which the Spirit-prince Phosphorus required as a condition of +marriage with me and my sisters, men have a name at present, which, +in truth, they frequently enough misapply: they call it a childlike +poetic mind. This mind, he says, is often found in youths, who, by +reason of their high simplicity of manners and their total want of +what is called knowledge of the world, are mocked by the populace. Ah, +dear Anselmus, beneath the Elder-bush thou understoodest my song, my +look; thou lovest the green Snake, thou believest in me, and wilt be +mine forevermore! The fair Lily will bloom forth from the Golden +Pot; and we shall dwell, happy, and united, and blessed, in Atlantis +together! + +"Yet I must not hide from thee that in its deadly battle with the +Salamanders and Spirits of the Earth, the black Dragon burst from +their grasp and hurried off through the air. Phosphorus, indeed, +again holds him in fetters; but from the black Quills, which, in the +struggle, rained down on the ground, there sprung up hostile Spirits, +which on all hands set themselves against the Salamanders and Spirits +of the Earth. That woman who so hates thee, dear Anselmus, and who, +as my father knows full well, is striving for possession of the +Golden Pot; that woman owes her existence to the love of such a Quill +(plucked in battle from the Dragon's wing) for a certain Parsnip +beside which it dropped. She knows her origin and her power; for, in +the moans and convulsions of the captive Dragon, the secrets of many a +mysterious constellation are revealed to her; and she uses every means +and effort to work from the Outward into the Inward and unseen; while +my father, with the beams which shoot forth from the spirit of the +Salamander, withstands and subdues her. All the baneful principles +which lurk in deadly herbs and poisonous beasts, she collects; and, +mixing them under favorable constellations, raises therewith many +a wicked spell, which overwhelms the soul of man with fear and +trembling, and subjects him to the power of those Demons, produced +from the Dragon when it yielded in battle. Beware of that old woman, +dear Anselmus! She hates thee because thy childlike, pious character +has annihilated many of her wicked charms. Keep true, true to me; soon +art thou at the goal!" + +"O my Serpentina! my own Serpentina!" cried the student Anselmus, "how +could I leave thee, how should I not love thee forever!" A kiss was +burning on his lips; he awoke as from a deep dream; Serpentina had +vanished; six o'clock was striking, and it fell heavy on his heart +that today he had not copied a single stroke. Full of anxiety, and +dreading reproaches from the Archivarius, he looked into the sheet; +and, O wonder! the copy of the mysterious manuscript was fairly +concluded; and he thought, on viewing the characters more narrowly, +that the writing was nothing else but Serpentina's story of her +father, the favorite of the Spirit-prince Phosphorus, in Atlantis, +the Land of Marvels. And now entered Archivarius Lindhorst, in his +light-gray surtout, with hat and staff; he looked into the parchment +on which Anselmus had been writing, took a large pinch of snuff, and +said with a smile "Just as I thought!--Well, Herr Anselmus, here is +your speziesthaler; we will now to the Linke Bath; do but follow me!" +The Archivarius stepped rapidly through the garden, in which there was +such a din of singing, whistling, talking, that the student Anselmus +was quite deafened with it and thanked Heaven when he found himself on +the street. + +Scarcely had they walked a few paces when they met Registrator +Heerbrand, who companionably joined them. At the Gate, they filled +their pipes, which they had about them; Registrator Heerbrand +complained that he had left his tinder-box behind, and could not +strike fire. "Fire!" cried Archivarius Lindhorst, scornfully; "here is +fire enough, and to spare!" And with this he snapped his fingers, out +of which came streams of sparks and directly kindled the pipes.--"Do +but observe the chemical knack of some men!" said Registrator +Heerbrand; but the student Anselmus thought, not without internal awe, +of the Salamander and his history. + +In the Linke Bath, Registrator Heerbrand drank so much strong double +beer that at last, though usually a good-natured, quiet man, he began +singing student songs in squeaking tenor; he asked every one sharply +whether he was his friend or not; and at last had to be taken home by +the student Anselmus, long after Archivarius had gone his way. + + + + +NINTH VIGIL + + How the student Anselmus attained to some Sense. The Punch Parts. + How the student Anselmus took Conrector Paulmann for a Screech-Owl, + and the latter felt much hurt at it. The Ink-blot, and its + Consequences. + + +The strange and mysterious things which day by day befell the student +Anselmus had entirely withdrawn him from every-day life. He no longer +visited any of his friends, and waited every morning with impatience +for the hour of noon, which was to unlock his paradise. And yet while +his whole soul was turned to the sweet Serpentina and the wonders of +Archivarius Lindhorst's fairy kingdom, he could not help now and then +thinking of Veronica; nay, often it seemed as if she came before him +and confessed with blushes how heartily she loved him, how much +she longed to rescue him from the phantoms which were mocking and +befooling him. At times he felt as if a foreign power, suddenly +breaking in on his mind, were drawing him with resistless force to the +forgotten Veronica; as if he must needs follow her whither she pleased +to lead him, nay, as if he were bound to her by ties that would not +break. That very night after Serpentina had first appeared to him +in the form of a lovely maiden, after the wondrous secret of the +Salamander's nuptials with the green Snake had been disclosed, +Veronica, came before him more vividly than ever. Nay, not till he +awoke was he clearly aware that he had been but dreaming; for he had +felt persuaded that Veronica was actually beside him, complaining with +an expression of keen sorrow, which pierced through his inmost soul, +that he should sacrifice her deep, true love to fantastic visions, +which only the distemper of his mind called into being, and which, +moreover, would at last prove his ruin. Veronica was lovelier than he +had ever seen her; he could not drive her from his thoughts: and in +this perplexed and contradictory mood he hastened out, hoping to get +rid of it by a morning walk. + +A secret magic influence led him on to the Pirna gate; he was just +turning into a cross street, when Conrector Paulmann, coming after +him, cried out: "Ey! Ey!--Dear Herr Anselmus!--_Amice! Amice_! Where, +in Heaven's name, have you been buried so long? We never see you at +all. Do you know, Veronica is longing very much to have another song +with you! So come along; you were just on the road to me, at any +rate." + +The student Anselmus, constrained by this friendly violence, went +along with the Conrector. On entering the house they were met by +Veronica, attired with such neatness and attention that Conrector +Paulmann, full of amazement, asked her: "Why so decked, Mam'sell? Were +you expecting visitors? Well, here I bring you Herr Anselmus." The +student Anselmus, in daintily and elegantly kissing Veronica's hand +felt a small soft pressure from it, which shot like a stream of fire +over all his frame. Veronica was cheerfulness, was grace itself; and +when Paulmann left them for his study, she contrived, by all manner of +rogueries and waggeries, so to uplift the student Anselmus that he at +last quite forgot his bashfulness, and jigged round the room with the +light-headed maiden. But here again the Demon of Awkwardness got hold +of him; he jolted a table, and Veronica's pretty little work-box fell +to the floor. Anselmus picked it up; the lid had sprung, and a little +round metallic mirror was glittering on him, into which he looked with +peculiar delight. Veronica glided softly up to him, laid her hand on +his arm, and, pressing close to him, looked over his shoulder into the +mirror also. And now Anselmus felt as if a battle were beginning +in his soul; thoughts, images flashed out--Archivarius +Lindhorst--Serpentina--the green Snake--at last the tumult abated, and +all this chaos arranged and shaped itself into distinct consciousness. +It was now clear to him that he had always thought of Veronica alone; +nay, that the form which had yesterday appeared to him in the blue +chamber had been no other than Veronica; and that the wild legend of +the Salamander's marriage with the green Snake had merely been written +down by him from the manuscript, but nowise related in his hearing. He +wondered not a little at all these dreams and ascribed them solely to +the heated state of mind into which Veronica's love had brought him, +as well as to his working with Archivarius Lindhorst, in whose rooms +there were, besides, so many strangely intoxicating odors. He could +not but laugh heartily at the mad whim of falling in love with a +little green Snake and taking a well-fed Privy Archivarius for a +Salamander: "Yes, Yes! It is Veronica!" cried he aloud; but on turning +his head around he looked right into Veronica's blue eyes, from which +warmest love was beaming. A faint soft Ah! escaped her lips, which at +that moment were burning on his. + +"O happy I!" sighed the enraptured student: "What I yesternight but +dreamed, is in very deed mine today." + +"But wilt thou really wed me, then, when thou art Hofrat?" said +Veronica. + +"That I will," replied the student Anselmus; and just then the door +creaked, and Conrector Paulmann entered with the words: + +"Now, dear Herr Anselmus, I will not let you go today. You will put up +with a bad dinner; then Veronica will make us delightful coffee, which +we shall drink with Registrator Heerbrand, for he promised to come +hither." + +"All, best Herr Conrector!" answered the student Anselmus, "are you +not aware that I must go to Archivarius Lindhorst's and copy?" + +"Look you, Amice!" said Conrector Paulmann, holding up his watch, +which pointed to half-past twelve. + +The student Anselmus saw clearly that he was much too late for +Archivarius Lindhorst; and he complied with the Corrector's wishes the +more readily as he might now hope to look at Veronica the whole day +long, to obtain many a stolen glance and little squeeze of the hand, +nay, even to succeed in conquering a kiss--so high had the student +Anselmus' desires now mounted; he felt more and more contented in +soul, the more fully he convinced himself that he should soon be +delivered from all the fantastic imaginations, which really might have +made a sheer idiot of him. + +Registrator Heerbrand came, as he had promised, after dinner; and +coffee being over, and the dusk come on, the Registrator, his face +puckering up to a smile and gaily rubbing his hands, signified that he +had something about him which, if mingled and reduced to form, as it +were paged and titled, by Veronica's fair hands, might be pleasant to +them all, on this October evening. + +"Come out, then, with this mysterious substance which you carry +with, you, most valued Registrator," cried Conrector Paulmann. Then +Registrator Heerbrand shoved his hand into his deep pocket, and at +three journeys brought out a bottle of arrack, some citrons, and a +quantity of sugar. Before half an hour had passed, a savory bowl of +punch was smoking on Paulmann's table. Veronica served the beverage; +and ere long there was plenty of gay, good-natured chat among the +friends. But the student Anselmus, as the spirit of the punch mounted +into his head, felt all the images of those wondrous things, which for +some time he had experienced, again coming through his mind. He +saw the Archivarius in his damask nightgown, which glittered like +phosphorus; he saw the azure room, the golden palm-trees; nay, it now +seemed to him as if he must still believe in Serpentina; there was a +fermentation, a conflicting tumult in his soul. Veronica handed him +a glass of punch; and in taking it, he gently touched her hand. +"Serpentina! Veronica!" sighed he to himself. He sank into deep +dreams; but Registrator Heerbrand cried quite aloud: "A strange old +gentleman, whom nobody can fathom, he is and will be, this Archivarius +Lindhorst. Well, long life to him! Your glass, Herr Anselmus!" + +Then the student Anselmus awoke from his dreams, and said, as he +touched glasses with Registrator Heerbrand "That proceeds, respected +Herr Registrator, from the circumstance that Archivarius Lindhorst +is in reality a Salamander, who wasted in his fury the Spirit-prince +Phosphorus' garden, because the green Snake had flown away from him." + +"How? What?" inquired Conrector Paulmann. + +"Yes," continued the student Anselmus; "and for this reason he is now +forced to be a Royal Archivarius, and to keep house here in Dresden +with his three daughters, who, after all, are nothing more than little +gold-green Snakes, that bask in elder-bushes, and traitorously sing, +and seduce away young people, like so many sirens." + +"Herr Anselmus! Herr Anselmus!" cried Conrector Paulmann, "is there +a crack in your brain? In Heaven's name, what monstrous stuff is this +you are babbling?" + +"He is right," interrupted Registrator Heerbrand; "that fellow, that +Archivarius, is a cursed Salamander, and strikes you fiery snips from +his fingers, which burn holes in your surtout like red-hot tinder. Ay, +ay, thou art in the right, brotherkin Anselmus; and whoever says No, +is saying No to me!" And at these words Registrator Heerbrand struck +the table with his fist, till the glasses rattled. + +"Registrator! Are you crazy?" cried the angry Conrector. "Herr +Studiosus, Herr Studiosus! What is this you are about again?" + +"Ah!" said the student, "you too are nothing but a bird, a +screech-owl, that frizzles toupees, Herr Conrector!" "What!--I +a bird?--screech-owl, a frizzler?" cried the Conrector, full of +indignation; "Sir, you are mad, born mad!" + +"But the crone will get a clutch of him," cried Registrator Heerbrand. + +"Yes, the crone is potent," interrupted the student Anselmus, "though +she is but of mean descent; for her father was nothing but a ragged +wing-feather, and her mother a dirty parsnip; but the most of her +power she owes to all sorts of baneful creatures, poisonous vermin +which she keeps about her." + +"That is a horrid calumny," cried Veronica, with eyes all glowing in +anger; "old Liese is a wise woman; and the black Cat is no baneful +creature, but a polished young gentleman of elegant manners, and her +cousin german." + +"Can _he_ eat Salamanders without singeing his whiskers, and dying +like a candle-snuff?" cried Registrator Heerbrand. + +"No! no!" shouted the student Anselmus, "that he never can in this +world; and the green Snake loves me, for I have a childlike mien, and +I have looked into Serpentina's eyes." + +"The Cat will scratch them out," cried Veronica. + +"Salamander, Salamander masters them all, all!" hallooed Conrector +Paulmann, in the highest fury. "But am I in a madhouse? Am I mad +myself? What crazy stuff am I chattering? Yes, I am mad too! mad too!" +And with this, Conrector Paulmann started up, tore the peruke from his +head and dashed it against the ceiling of the room, till the battered +locks whizzed, and, tangled into utter disorder, rained down the +powder far and wide. Then the student Anselmus and Registrator +Heerbrand seized the punch-bowl and the glasses, and, hallooing and +huzzaing, pitched them against the ceiling also, and the sherds fell +jingling and tingling about their ears. + +"_Vivat_ the Salamander!--_Pereat, pereat_ the crone!--Break the +metal mirror!--Dig the cat's eyes out!--Bird, little Bird, from the +air--_Eheu--Eheu--Evoe--Evoe_, Salamander!" So shrieked and shouted +and bellowed the three, like utter maniacs. With loud weeping, +Fraenzchen ran out; but Veronica lay whimpering for pain and sorrow on +the sofa. + +At this moment the door opened; all was instantly still; and a little +man, in a small gray cloak, came stepping in. His countenance had +a singular air of gravity; and especially the round hooked nose, on +which was a huge pair of spectacles, distinguished itself from all the +noses ever seen. He wore a strange peruke too--more like a feather-cap +than a wig. + +"Ey, many good evenings!" grated and cackled the little comical +mannikin. "Is the student Herr Anselmus among you, gentlemen?--Best +compliments from Archivarius Lindhorst; he has waited today in vain +for Herr Anselmus; but tomorrow he begs most respectfully to request +that Herr Anselmus would not forget the hour." + +And with this he went out again; and all of them now saw clearly +that the grave little mannikin was in fact a gray Parrot. Conrector +Paulmann and Registrator Heerbrand raised a horse-laugh, which +reverberated through the room, and, in the intervals, Veronica was +moaning and whimpering, as if torn by nameless sorrow; but as to the +student Anselmus, the madness of inward horror was darting through +him, and unconsciously he ran out of the door, into the street. +Instinctively he reached his house, his garret. Ere long Veronica came +in to him, with a peaceful and friendly look, and asked him why, in +his intoxication, he had so alarmed her; and desired him to be on +his guard against new imaginations, while working at Archivarius +Lindhorst's. "Good night, good night, my beloved friend!" whispered +Veronica, scarce audibly, and breathed a kiss on his lips. He +stretched out his arms to clasp her, but the dreamy shape had +vanished, and he awoke cheerful and refreshed. He could not but laugh +heartily at the effects of the punch; but in thinking of Veronica, he +felt pervaded by a most delightful feeling. "To her alone," said he +within himself, "do I owe this return from my insane whims. In good +sooth, I was little better than the man who believed himself to be of +glass; or he who durst not leave his room for fear the hens should eat +him, as he imagined himself to be a barleycorn. But as soon as I am +Hofrat I will marry Mademoiselle Paulmann and be happy, and there's an +end of it." + +At noon, as he walked through Archivarius Lindhorst's garden, he +could not help wondering how all this had once appeared so strange and +marvelous to him. He now saw nothing but common, earthen flowerpots, +quantities of geraniums, myrtles, and the like. Instead of the +glittering party-colored birds which used to flout him, there were +only a few sparrows fluttering hither and thither, which raised an +unpleasant, unintelligible cry at sight of Anselmus. The azure room +also had quite a different look; and he could not understand how that +glaring blue, and those unnatural golden trunks of palm-trees, with +their shapeless glistening leaves, should ever have pleased him for a +moment. The Archivarius looked at him with a most peculiar, ironical +smile, and asked: "Well, how did you like the punch last night, good +Anselmus?" + +"Ah, doubtless you have heard from the gray Parrot how--" answered the +student Anselmus, quite ashamed; but he stopped short, bethinking him +that this appearance of the Parrot was all a piece of jugglery of the +confused senses. + +"I was there myself," said Archivarius Lindhorst; "did you not see me? +But, among the mad pranks you were playing, I had nigh got lamed; for +I was sitting in the punch-bowl, at the very moment when Registrator +Heerbrand laid hands on it, to dash it against the ceiling; and I had +to make a quick retreat into the Conrector's pipehead. Now, adieu, +Herr Anselmus! Be diligent at your task; for the lost day also you +shall have a speziesthaler, because you worked so well before." + +"How can the Archivarius babble such mad stuff?" thought the student +Anselmus, sitting down at the table to begin the copying of the +manuscript, which Archivarius Lindhorst had as usual spread out before +him. But on the parchment roll he perceived so many strange crabbed +strokes and twirls all twisted together in inexplicable confusion, +offering no resting-point for the eye, that it seemed to him well-nigh +impossible to copy all this exactly. Nay, in glancing over the whole, +you might have thought the parchment was nothing but a piece of +thickly veined marble, or a stone sprinkled over with lichens. +Nevertheless he determined to do his utmost, and boldly dipped in +his pen; but the ink would not run, do what he would; impatiently +he spirted the point of his pen against his nail, and--Heaven and +Earth!--a huge blot fell on the out-spread original! Hissing and +foaming, a blue flash rose from the blot, and, crackling and wavering, +shot through the room to the ceiling. Then a thick vapor rolled from +the walls; the leaves began to rustle, as if shaken by a tempest; and +down out of them darted glaring basilisks in sparkling fire; these +kindled the vapor, and the bickering masses of flame rolled round +Anselmus. The golden trunks of the palm-trees became gigantic snakes, +which knocked their frightful heads together with piercing metallic +clang and wound their scaly bodies round Anselmus. + +"Madman I suffer now the punishment of what, in insolent sacrilege, +thou hast done!" So cried the frightful voice of the crowned +Salamander, who appeared above the snakes like a glittering beam in +the midst of the flame; and now the yawning jaws of the snakes poured +forth cataracts of fire on Anselmus; and it was as if the fire-streams +were congealing about his body and changing into a firm ice-cold +mass. But while Anselmus' limbs, more and more pressed together and +contracted, stiffened into powerlessness, his senses passed away. +On returning to himself, he could not stir a joint; he was as if +surrounded with a glistening brightness, on which he struck if he but +tried to lift his hand or move otherwise.--Alas! He was sitting in a +well-corked crystal bottle, on a shelf, in the library of Archivarius +Lindhorst. + + + + +TENTH VIGIL + + Sorrows of the student Anselmus in the Glass Bottle. Happy Life of + the Cross Church Scholars and Law Clerks. The Battle in the Library + of Archivarius Lindhorst. Victory of the Salamander, and Deliverance + of the student Anselmus. + + +Justly may I doubt whether thou, kind reader, wert ever sealed up in +a glass bottle; or even that any vivid tormenting dream ever oppressed +thee with such a demon from fairyland. If such were the case, thou +wouldst keenly enough figure out the poor student Anselmus' woe; but +shouldst thou never have even dreamed such things, then will thy quick +fancy, for Anselmus' sake and mine, be obliging enough to inclose +itself for a few moments in the crystal. Thou art drowned in dazzling +splendor; all objects about thee appear illuminated and begirt with +beaming rainbow hues; all quivers and wavers, and clangs and drones, +in the sheen; thou art floating motionless as in a firmly congealed +ether, which so presses thee together that the spirit in vain gives +orders to the dead and stiffened body. Weightier and weightier the +mountain burden lies on thee; more and more does every breath exhaust +the little handful of air, that still plays up and down in the narrow +space; thy pulse throbs madly; and, cut through with horrid anguish, +every nerve is quivering and bleeding in this deadly agony. Have +pity, kind reader, on the student Anselmus of whom this inexpressible +torture laid hold in his glass prison; but he felt too well that death +could not relieve him; for did he not awake from the deep swoon +into which the excess of pain had cast him, and open his eyes to new +wretchedness, when the morning sun shone clear into the room? He could +move no limb; but his thoughts struck against the glass, stupefying +him with discordant clang; and instead of the words, which the spirit +used to speak from within him, he now heard only the stifled din of +madness. Then he exclaimed in his despair "O Serpentina! Serpentina! +save me from this agony of Hell!" And it was as if faint sighs +breathed around him, which spread like green transparent elder-leaves +over the glass; the clanging ceased; the dazzling, perplexing glitter +was gone, and he breathed more freely. + +"Have not I myself solely to blame for my misery? Ah! Have not I +sinned against thee, thou kind, beloved Serpentina? Have not I raised +vile doubts of thee? Have not I lost my faith, and, with it, all, +all that was to make me so blessed? Ah! Thou wilt now never, never +be mine; for me the Golden Pot is lost, and I shall not behold its +wonders any more. Ah, but once could I see thee, but once hear thy +gentle sweet voice, thou lovely Serpentina!" + +So wailed the student Anselmus, caught with deep piercing sorrow; then +spoke a voice close by him: "What the devil ails you Herr Studiosus? +What makes you lament so, out of all compass and measure?" + +The student Anselmus now noticed that on the same shelf with him were +five other bottles, in which he perceived three Cross Church Scholars, +and two Law Clerks. + +"Ah, gentlemen, my fellows in misery," cried he, "how is it possible +for you to be so calm, nay so happy, as I read in your cheerful looks? +You are sitting here corked up in glass bottles, as well as I, and +cannot move a finger, nay, not think a reasonable thought but there +rises such a murder-tumult of clanging and droning and in your head +itself a tumbling and rumbling enough to drive one mad. But doubtless +you do not believe in the Salamander, or the green Snake." + +"You are pleased to jest, Mein Herr Studiosus," replied a Cross Church +Scholar; "we have never been better off than at present; for the +speziesthalers which the mad Archivarius gave us for all manner of +pot-hook copies, are clinking in our pockets; we have now no Italian +choruses to learn by heart; we go every day to Joseph's or other inns, +where we do justice to the double-beer, we even look pretty girls in +their faces; and we sing, like real students, _Gaudeamus igitur_, and +are contented in spirit!" + +"The gentlemen are quite right," added a Law Clerk; "I too am well +furnished with speziesthalers, like my dearest colleague beside me +here; and we now diligently walk about on the Weinberg, instead of +scurvy Act-writing within four walls." + +"But, my best, worthiest gentlemen!" said the student Anselmus, "do +you not feel, then, that you are all and sundry corked up in glass +bottles, and cannot for your hearts walk a hair's-breadth?" + +Here the Cross Church Scholars and the Law Clerks set up a loud laugh, +and cried: "The student is mad; he fancies himself to be sitting in +a glass bottle, and is standing on the Elbe-bridge and looking right +down into the water. Let us go along!" + +"Ah!" sighed the student, "they have never seen the sweet Serpentina; +they know not what Freedom, and life in Love, and Faith, signify; +and so by reason of their folly and low-mindedness, they feel not +the oppression of the imprisonment into which the Salamander has cast +them. But I, unhappy I, must perish in want and woe, if she, whom I so +inexpressibly love, do not deliver me!" + +Then, waving in faint tinkles, Serpentina's voice flitted through +the room: "Anselmus! believe, love, hope!" And every tone beamed +into Anselmus' prison; and the crystal yielded to his pressure, and +expanded, till the breast of the captive could move and heave. + +The torment of his situation became less and less, and he saw clearly +that Serpentina still loved him, and that it was she alone, who +had rendered his confinement in the crystal tolerable. He disturbed +himself no more about his frivolous companions in misfortune, but +directed all his thoughts and meditations on the gentle Serpentina. +Suddenly, however, there arose on the other side a dull, croaking, +repulsive murmur. Ere long he could observe that it proceeded from an +old coffee-pot, with half-broken lid, standing over against him on a +little shelf. As he looked at it more narrowly, the ugly features of +a wrinkled old woman by degrees unfolded themselves; and in a few +moments, the Apple-wife of the Black Gate stood before him. She +grinned and laughed at him, and cried with screeching voice: "Ey, Ey, +my pretty boy, must thou lie in limbo now? To the crystal thou hast +run; did I not tell thee long ago?" + +"Mock and jeer me; do, thou cursed witch!" said the student Anselmus. +"Thou art to blame for it all; but the Salamander will catch thee, +thou vile Parsnip!" + +"Ho, ho!" replied the crone, "not so proud, good ready-writer! Thou +hast smashed my little sons to pieces, thou hast burnt my nose; but I +must still like thee, thou knave, for once thou wert a pretty fellow; +and my little daughter likes thee too. Out of the crystal thou wilt +never come unless I help thee; up thither I cannot clamber; but my +cousin gossip the Rat, that lives close above thee, will gnaw in two +the shelf on which thou standest; thou shalt jingle down, and I catch +thee in my apron, that thy nose be not broken, or thy fine sleek face +at all injured; then I will carry thee to Mam'sell Veronica, and thou +shalt marry her when thou art Hofrat." + +"Avaunt, thou devil's brood!" cried the student Anselmus, full of +fury; "it was thou alone and thy hellish arts that brought me to the +sin which I must now expiate. But I bear it all patiently; for only +here can I be, where the kind Serpentina encircles me with love and +consolation. Hear it, thou beldam, and despair! I bid defiance to +thy power; I love Serpentina, and none but her forever; I will not +be Hofrat, will not look at Veronica, who by thy means entices me +to evil. Can the green Snake not be mine, I will die in sorrow and +longing. Take thyself away, thou vile rook! Take thyself away!" + +The crone laughed till the chamber rung: "Sit and die then," cried +she, "but now it is time to set to work; for I have other trade to +follow here." She threw off her black cloak, and so stood in hideous +nakedness; then she ran round in circles, and large folios came +tumbling down to her; out of these she tore parchment leaves, and, +rapidly patching them together in artful combination and fixing +them on her body, in a few instants she was dressed as if in strange +party-colored scale harness. Spitting fire, the black Cat darted out +of the ink-glass, which was standing on the table, and ran mewing +toward the crone, who shrieked in loud triumph and along with him +vanished through the door. + +Anselmus observed that she went toward the azure chamber, and directly +he heard a hissing and storming in the distance; the birds in the +garden were crying; the Parrot creaked out: "Help! help! Thieves! +thieves!" That moment the crone returned with a bound into the room, +carrying the Golden Pot on her arm, and, with hideous gestures, +shrieking wildly through the air; "Joy! joy, little son!--Kill the +green Snake! To her, son! To her!" + +Anselmus thought he heard a deep moaning, heard Serpentina's voice. +Then horror and despair took hold of him; he gathered all his force, +he dashed violently, as if nerve and artery were bursting, against the +crystal; a piercing clang went through the room, and the Archivarius +in his bright damask nightgown was standing in the door. + +"Hey, hey! vermin!--Mad spell!--Witchwork!--Hither, holla!" So shouted +he; then the black hair of the crone started up like bristles; her +red eyes glanced with infernal fire, and clenching together the peaked +fangs of her ample jaws, she hissed: "Hiss, at him! Hiss, at him! +Hiss!" and laughed and haw-hawed in scorn and mockery, and pressed +the Golden Pot firmly toward her, and threw out of it handfuls of +glittering earth on the Archivarius; but as it touched the nightgown +the earth changed into flowers, which rained down on the ground. +Then the lilies of the nightgown flickered and flamed up; and the +Archivarius caught these lilies blazing in sparky fire and dashed them +on the witch; she howled for agony, but still as she leapt aloft and +shook her harness of parchment the lilies went out and fell away into +ashes. + +"To her, my lad!" creaked the crone; then the black Cat darted through +the air, and plunged over the Archivarius' head toward the door; but +the gray Parrot fluttered out against him and caught him with his +crooked bill by the nape, till red fiery blood burst down over his +neck; and Serpentina's voice cried: "Saved! Saved!" Then the crone, +foaming with rage and desperation, darted out upon the Archivarius; +she threw the Golden Pot behind her, and holding up the long talons of +her skinny fists, was for clutching the Archivarius by the throat; but +he instantly doffed his nightgown, and hurled it against her. Then, +hissing, and sputtering, and bursting, shot blue flames from the +parchment leaves, and the crone rolled round in howling agony, and +strove to get fresh earth from the Pot, fresh parchment leaves from +the books, that she might stifle the blazing flames; and whenever any +earth or leaves came down on her the flames went out. But now, as +if coming from the interior of the Archivarius, there issued fiery +crackling beams, and darted on the crone. + +"Hey, hey! To it again! Salamander! Victory!" clanged the Archivarius' +voice through the chamber; and a hundred bolts whirled forth in fiery +circles round the shrieking crone. Whizzing and buzzing flew Cat +and Parrot in their furious battle; but at last the Parrot, with +his strong wing, dashed the Cat to the ground; and with his talons +transfixing and holding fast his adversary, which, in deadly agony, +uttered horrid mews and howls, he, with his sharp bill, picked out +his glowing eyes, and the burning froth spouted from them. Then thick +vapor streamed up from the spot where the crone, hurled to the ground, +was lying under the nightgown; her howling, her terrific, piercing cry +of lamentation died away in the remote distance. The smoke, which had +spread abroad with irresistible smell, cleared off; the Archivarius +picked up his nightgown, and under it lay an ugly Parsnip. + +"Honored Herr Archivarius, here, let me offer you the vanquished foe," +said the Parrot, holding out a black hair in his beak to Archivarius +Lindhorst. + +"Very well, my worthy friend," replied the Archivarius; "here lies +my vanquished foe too; be so good now as to manage what remains. This +very day, as a small douceur, you shall have six cocoanuts, and a new +pair of spectacles also, for I see the Cat has villainously broken +your glasses. + +"Yours forever, most honored friend and patron!" answered the Parrot, +much delighted; then took the Parsnip in his bill, and fluttered out +with it by the window which Archivarius Lindhorst had opened for him. + +The Archivarius now lifted the Golden Pot, and cried, with a strong +voice, "Serpentina! Serpentina!" But as the student Anselmus, joying +in the destruction of the vile beldam who had hurried him into +misfortune, cast his eyes on the Archivarius, behold, here stood once +more the high majestic form of the Spirit-prince, looking up to +him with indescribable dignity and grace. "Anselmus," said the +Spirit-prince, "not thou, but a hostile Principle, which strove +destructively to penetrate into thy nature and divide thee +against thyself, was to blame for thy unbelief. Thou hast kept thy +faithfulness; be free and happy." A bright flash quivered through the +spirit of Anselmus; the royal triphony of the crystal bells sounded +stronger and louder than he had ever heard it; his nerves and fibres +thrilled; but, swelling higher and higher, the melodious tones rang +through the room; the glass which inclosed Anselmus broke; and he +rushed into the arms of his dear and gentle Serpentina. + + + + +ELEVENTH VIGIL + + Conrector Paulmann's anger at the madness which had broken out in + his Family. How Registrator Heerbrand became Hofrat; and, in the + keenest Frost, walked about in Shoes and silk Stockings. Veronica's + Confessions. Betrothment over the steaming Soup-dish. + + +"But tell me, best Registrator, how the cursed punch last night could +so mount into our heads, and drive us to all manner of _allotria_?" +So said Conrector Paulmann, as he next morning entered his room, +which still lay full of broken sherds, and in whose midst his hapless +peruke, dissolved into its original elements, was floating in the +punch-bowl. After the student Anselmus ran out of doors, Conrector +Paulmann and Registrator Heerbrand had still kept trotting and +hobbling up and down the room, shouting like maniacs, and butting +their heads together; till Fraenzchen, with much labor, carried her +vertiginous papa to bed, and Registrator Heerbrand, in the deepest +exhaustion, sank on the sofa, which Veronica had left, taking refuge +in her bedroom. Registrator Heerbrand had his blue handkerchief tied +about his head; he looked quite pale and melancholic, and moaned out: +"Ah, worthy Conrector, not the punch which Mam'sell Veronica most +admirably brewed, no! but simply that cursed student is to blame for +all the mischief. Do you not observe that he has long been _mente +caphis_? And are you not aware that madness is infectious? One fool +makes twenty; pardon me, it is an old proverb; especially when you +have drunk a glass or two, you fall into madness quite readily, and +then involuntarily you manoeuvre, and go through your exercise, just +as the crack-brained fugleman makes the motion. Would you believe it, +Conrector? I am still giddy when I think of that gray Parrot!" + +"Gray fiddlesticks!" interrupted the Conrector; "it was nothing but +Archivarius Lindhorst's little old Famulus, who had thrown a gray +cloak over him and was seeking the student Anselmus." + +"It may be," answered Registrator Heerbrand, "but, I must confess, I +am quite downcast in spirit; the whole night through there was such a +piping and organing." + +"That was I," said the Conrector, "for I snore loud." + +"Well, maybe," answered the Registrator; "but Conrector, Conrector! +Ah, not without cause did I wish to raise some cheerfulness among +us last night--But that Anselmus has spoiled all! You know not--O +Conrector, Conrector!" And with this, Registrator Heerbrand started +up, plucked the cloth from his head, embraced the Conrector, warmly +pressed his hand, and again cried, in quite heart-breaking tones: "O +Conrector, Conrector!" and, snatching his hat and staff, rushed out of +doors. + +"This Anselmus comes not over my threshold again," said Conrector +Paulmann; "for I see very well that, with this obdurate madness of +his, he robs the best people of their senses. The Registrator is +now over with it too; I have hitherto kept safe; but the Devil, who +knocked hard last night in our carousal, may get in at last and play +his tricks with me. So _Apage, Satanas_! Off with thee, Anselmus!" +Veronica had grown quite pensive; she spoke no word; only smiled now +and then very oddly, and liked best to be alone. "Also of her distress +Anselmus is the cause," said the Conrector, full of malice; "but it +is well that he does not show himself here; I know he fears me, this +Anselmus, and so he never comes." + +These concluding words Conrector Paulmann spoke aloud; then the tears +rushed into Veronica's eyes, and she said, sobbing: "Ah! how can +Anselmus come? He has long been corked up in the glass bottle." + +"How? What?" cried Conrector Paulmann. "Ah Heaven! Ah Heaven! she is +doting too, like the Registrator; the loud fit will soon come! +Ah, thou cursed, abominable, thrice-cursed Anselmus!" He ran forth +directly to Doctor Eckstein, who smiled, and again said: "Ey! Ey!" +This time, however, he prescribed nothing; but added, to the little +he had uttered, the following words, as he walked away: "Nerves! Come +round of itself. Take the air; walks; amusements; theatre; playing +_Sonntagskind, Schwestern von Prag_. Come round of itself." + +"So eloquent I have seldom seen the Doctor," thought Conrector +Paulmann; "really talkative, I declare!" + +Several days and weeks and months were gone; Anselmus had vanished; +but Registrator Heerbrand also did not make his appearance--not till +the fourth of February, when the Registrator, in a new fashionable +coat of the finest cloth, in shoes and silk stockings, notwithstanding +the keen frost, and with a large nosegay of fresh flowers in his hand, +did enter precisely at noon into the parlor of Conrector Paulmann, who +wondered not a little to see his friend so dizened. With a solemn air, +Registrator Heerbrand stepped forward to Conrector Paulmann; embraced +him with the finest elegance, and then said: "Now at last, on the +Saint's-day of your beloved and most honored Mam'sell Veronica, I will +tell you out, straightforward, what I have long had lying at my heart. +That evening, that unfortunate evening, when I put the ingredients of +that cursed punch in my pocket, I purposed imparting to you a piece of +good news, and celebrating the happy day in convivial joys. Already I +had learned that I was to be made Hofrat, for which promotion I have +now the patent, _cum nomine et sigillo Principis_, in my pocket." + +"Ah! Herr Registr--Herr Hofrat Heerbrand, I meant to say," stammered +the Conrector. + +"But it is you, most honored Conrector," continued the new Hofrat; "it +is you alone that can complete my happiness. For a long time I have in +secret loved your daughter, Mam'sell Veronica; and I can boast of many +a kind look which she has given me, evidently showing that she would +not cast me away. In one word, honored Conrector! I, Hofrat Heerbrand, +do now entreat of you the hand of your most amiable Mam'sell Veronica, +whom I, if you have nothing against it, purpose shortly to take home +as my wife." + +Conrector Paulmann, full of astonishment, clapped his hands +repeatedly, crying: "Ey, Ey, Ey! Herr Registr--Herr Hofrat, I meant +to say--who would have thought it? Well, if Veronica does really +love you, I for my share cannot object; nay, perhaps, her present +melancholy is nothing but concealed love for you, most honored Hofrat! +You know what freaks they have!" + +At this moment Veronica entered, pale and agitated as she now commonly +was. Then Hofrat Heerbrand stepped toward her; mentioned in a neat +speech her Saint's-day and handed her the odorous nosegay, along +with a little packet; out of which, when she opened it, a pair of +glittering ear-rings beamed up at her. A rapid flying blush tinted her +cheeks; her eyes sparkled in joy, and she cried: "O Heaven! These are +the very ear-rings which I wore some weeks ago, and thought so much +of." + +"How can this be, dearest Mam'sell," interrupted Hofrat Heerbrand, +somewhat alarmed and hurt, "when I bought these jewels not an hour ago +in the Schlossgasse, for current money?" + +But Veronica heeded him not; she was standing before the mirror to +witness the effect of the trinkets, which she had already suspended +in her pretty little ears. Conrector Paulmann disclosed to her, with +grave countenance and solemn tone, his friend Heerbrand's preferment +and present proposal. Veronica looked at the Hofrat with a searching +look, and said: "I have long known that you wished to marry me. Well, +be it so! I promise you my heart and hand; but I must now unfold to +you, to both of you, I mean, my father and my bridegroom, much that +is lying heavy on my heart; yes, even now, though the soup should get +cold, which I see Fraenzchen is just putting on the table." + +Without waiting for the Conrector's or the Hofrat's reply, though the +words were visibly hovering on the lips of both, Veronica continued: +"You may believe me, best father, I loved Anselmus from my heart, and +when Registrator Heerbrand, who is now become Hofrat himself, assured +us that Anselmus might probably reach that position, I resolved that +he and no other should be my husband. But then it seemed as if alien +hostile beings were for snatching him away from me; I had recourse to +old Liese, who was once my nurse, but is now a wise woman, and a great +enchantress. She promised to help me and give Anselmus wholly into +my hands. We went at midnight on the Equinox to the crossing of the +roads; she conjured certain hellish spirits, and by aid of the black +Cat we manufactured a little metallic mirror, in which I, directing my +thoughts on Anselmus, had but to look in order to rule him wholly in +heart and mind. But now I heartily repent having done all this, and +here abjure all Satanic arts. The Salamander has conquered old Liese; +I heard her shrieks; but there was no help to be given; so soon as the +Parrot had eaten the Parsnip my metallic mirror broke in two with a +piercing clang." Veronica took out both the pieces of the mirror, +and a lock of hair from her work-box, and handing them to Hofrat +Heerbrand, she proceeded: "Here, take the fragments of the mirror, +dear Hofrat; throw them down, tonight, at twelve o'clock, over the +Elbe-bridge, from the place where the Cross stands; the stream is not +frozen there; the lock, however, do you wear on your faithful breast. +I again abjure all magic; and heartily wish Anselmus joy of his +good fortune, seeing he is wedded with the green Snake, who is +much prettier and richer than I. You, dear Hofrat, I will love and +reverence as becomes a true honest wife." + +"Alack! Alack!" cried Conrector Paulmann, full of sorrow; "she is +cracked, she is cracked; she can never be Frau Hofraetin; she is +cracked!" + +"Not in the least," interrupted Hofrat Heerbrand; "I know well that +Mam'sell Veronica has felt kindly toward the loutish Anselmus; and it +may be that in some fit of passion, she has had recourse to the wise +woman, who, as I perceive, can be no other than the card-caster and +coffee-pourer of the Seetor--in a word, old Rauerin. Nor can it be +denied that there are secret arts, which exert their influence on +men but too balefully; we read of such in the Ancients, and doubtless +there are still such; but as to what Mam'sell Veronica is pleased to +say about the victory of the Salamander, and the marriage of Anselmus +with the green Snake, this, in reality, I take for nothing but a +poetic allegory; a sort of poem, wherein she sings her entire farewell +to the Student." + +"Take it for what you will, best Hofrat!" cried Veronica; "perhaps for +a very stupid dream." + +"That I nowise do," replied Hofrat Heerbrand; "for I know well that +Anselmus himself is possessed by secret powers, which vex him and +drive him on to all imaginable mad freaks." + +Conrector Paulmann could stand it no longer; he broke loose: "Hold! +For the love of Heaven, hold! Are we again overtaken with the cursed +punch, or has Anselmus' madness come over us too? Herr Hofrat, what +stuff is this you are talking? I will suppose, however, that it is +love which haunts your brain; this soon comes to rights in marriage; +otherwise I should be apprehensive that you too had fallen into some +shade of madness, most honored Herr Hofrat; then what would become +of the future branches of the family, inheriting the _malum_ of their +parents? But now I give my paternal blessing to this happy union, and +permit you as bride and bridegroom to take a kiss." + +This happened forthwith; and thus before the presented soup had +grown cold, was a formal betrothment concluded. In a few weeks, Frau +Hofraetin Heerbrand was actually, as she had been in vision, sitting in +the balcony of a fine house in the Neumarkt, and looking down with a +smile on the beaux, who, passing by, turned their glasses up to her, +and said: "She is a heavenly woman, the Hofraetin Heerbrand." + + + + +TWELFTH VIGIL + + Account of the Freehold Property to which Anselmus removed, as + son-in-law of Archivarius Lindhorst; and how he lives there with + Serpentina. Conclusion. + + +How deeply did I feel, in the depth of my heart, the blessedness of +the student Anselmus, who now, indissolubly united with his gentle +Serpentina, has withdrawn to the mysterious Land of Wonders, +recognized by him as the home toward which his bosom, filled with +strange forecastings, had always longed. But in vain was all my +striving to set before thee, kind reader, those glories with which +Anselmus is encompassed, or even in the faintest degree to shadow them +forth to thee in words. Reluctantly I could not but acknowledge the +feebleness of my every expression. I felt myself enthralled amid +the paltriness of every-day life; I sickened in tormenting +dissatisfaction; I glided about like a dreamer; in brief, I fell into +that condition of the student Anselmus, which, in the Fourth Vigil, I +have endeavored to set before thee. It grieved me to the heart, when I +glanced over the Eleven Vigils, now happily accomplished, and thought +that to insert the Twelfth, the keystone of the whole, would never be +vouchsafed me. For whensoever, in the night season, I set myself to +complete the work, it was as if mischievous Spirits (they might be +relations, perhaps cousins german, of the slain witch) held a polished +glittering piece of metal before me, in which I beheld my own mean +Self, pale, overwatched, and melancholic, like Registrator Heerbrand +after his bout of punch. Then I threw down my pen, and hastened to +bed, that I might behold the happy Anselmus and the fair Serpentina, +at least in my dreams. This had lasted for several days and nights, +when at length quite unexpectedly I received a note from Archivarius +Lindhorst, in which he addressed me as follows: + +"Respected Sir--It is well known to me that you have written down, in +Eleven Vigils, the singular fortunes of my good son-in-law Anselmus, +whilom student, now poet; and are at present cudgeling your brains +very sore, that in the Twelfth and Last Vigil you may tell somewhat of +his happy life in Atlantis, where he now lives with my daughter on +the pleasant Freehold which I possess in that country. Now, +notwithstanding I much regret that hereby my own peculiar nature is +unfolded to the reading world; seeing it may, in my office as Privy +Archivarius, expose me to a thousand inconveniences; nay, in the +Collegium even give rise to the question: How far a Salamander can +justly, and with binding consequences, plight himself by oath, as a +Servant of the State, and how far, on the whole, important affairs may +be intrusted to him, since, according to Gabalis and Swedenborg, +the Spirits of the Elements are not to be trusted at +all?--notwithstanding, my best friends must now avoid my embrace; +fearing lest, in some sudden exuberance, I dart out a flash or two, +and singe their hair-curls, and Sunday frocks; notwithstanding all +this, I say, it is still my purpose to assist you in the completion of +the Work, since much good of me and of my dear married daughter (would +the other two were off my hands also!) has therein been said. Would +you write your Twelfth Vigil, therefore, then descend your cursed five +pair of stairs, leave your garret, and come over to me. In the blue +palm-tree room, which you already know, you will find fit writing +materials; and you can then, in a few words, specify to your readers +what you have seen--a better plan for you than any long-winded +description of a life which you know only by hearsay. + +With esteem, your obedient servant, + +THE SALAMANDER LINDHORST, + +P.T. Royal Privy Archivarius." + +This truly somewhat rough, yet on the whole friendly note from +Archivarius Lindhorst, gave me high pleasure. Clear enough it +seemed, indeed, that the singular manner in which the fortunes of his +son-in-law had been revealed to me, and which I, bound to silence, +must conceal even from thee, kind reader, was well known to this +peculiar old gentleman; yet he had not taken it so ill as I might +readily have apprehended. Nay, here was he offering me his helpful +hand in the completion of my work; and from this I might justly +conclude that at bottom he was not averse to have his marvelous +existence in the world of spirits thus divulged through the press. + +"It may be," thought I, "that he himself expects from this measure, +perhaps, to get his two other daughters the sooner married; for who +knows but a spark may fall in this or that young man's breast, and +kindle a longing for the green Snake; whom, on Ascension-day, under +the elder-bush, he will forthwith seek and find? From the woe which +befell Anselmus, when inclosed in the glass bottle, he will take +warning to be doubly and trebly on his guard against all doubt and +unbelief." + +Precisely at eleven o'clock I extinguished my study-lamp and glided +forth to Archivarius Lindhorst, who was already waiting for me in the +lobby. + +"Are you there, my worthy friend? Well, this is what I like, that you +have not mistaken my good intentions; do but follow me!" + +And with this he led the way through the garden, now filled with +dazzling brightness, into the azure chamber, where I observed the same +violet table at which Anselmus had been writing. + +Archivarius Lindhorst disappeared, but soon came back, carrying in his +hand a fair golden goblet out of which a high blue flame was sparkling +up. "Here," said he, "I bring you the favorite drink of your friend +the Bandmaster, Johannes Kreisler.[45] It is burning arrack, into +which I have thrown a little sugar. Sip a touch or two of it; I will +doff my nightgown, and, to amuse myself and enjoy your worthy company +while you sit looking and writing, shall just bob up and down a little +in the goblet." + +"As you please, honored Herr Archivarius," answered I: "but if I am to +ply the liqueur, you will get none." + +"Don't fear that, my good fellow," cried the Archivarius; then hastily +threw off his nightgown, mounted, to my no small amazement, into the +goblet, and vanished in the blaze. Without fear, softly blowing black +the flame, I partook of the drink; it was truly delicious! + +Stir not the emerald leaves of the palm-trees in soft sighing and +rustling, as if kissed by the breath of the morning wind? Awakened +from their sleep, they move and mysteriously whisper of the wonders +which, from the far distance, approach like tones of melodious harps! +The azure rolls from the walls, and floats like airy vapor to and +fro; but dazzling beams shoot through the perfume which, whirling +and dancing, as in jubilee of childlike sport, mounts and mounts to +immeasurable heights, and vaults over the palm-trees. But brighter and +brighter shoots beam on beam, till in bright sunshine and boundless +expanse opens the grove where I behold Anselmus. Here glowing +hyacinths, and tulips, and roses, lift their fair heads; and their +perfumes, in loveliest sound, call to the happy youth: "Wander, wander +among us, our beloved; for thou understandest us! Our perfume is the +Longing of Love; we love thee, and are thine forevermore!" The golden +rays burn in glowing tones: "We are Fire, kindled by Love. Perfume is +Longing; but Fire is Desire: and dwell we not in thy bosom? We are thy +own!" The dark bushes, the high trees, rustle and sound: "Come to +us, thou loved, thou happy one! Fire is Desire; but Hope is our cool +Shadow. Lovingly we rustle round thy head; for thou understandest us, +because Love dwells in thy breast!" The fountains and brooks murmur +and patter. "Loved one, walk not so quickly by; look into our crystal! +Thy image dwells in us, which we preserve with Love, for thou hast +understood us." In the triumphal choir, bright birds are singing: +"Hear us! Hear us! We are Joy, we are Delight, the rapture of Love!" +But longingly Anselmus turns his eyes to the Glorious Temple, which +rises behind him in the distance. The artful pillars seem trees; and +the capitals and friezes acanthus leaves, which in wondrous wreaths +and figures form splendid decorations. Anselmus walks to the Temple; +he views with inward delight the variegated marble, the steps with +their strange veins of moss. "Ah, no!" cries he, as if in the excess +of rapture, "she is not far from me now; she is near!" Then advances +Serpentina, in the fulness of beauty and grace, from the Temple; +she bears the Golden Pot, from which a bright Lily has sprung. The +nameless rapture of infinite longing glows in her bright eyes; she +looks at Anselmus, and says: "Ah! Dearest, the Lily has sent forth her +bowl; what we longed for is fulfilled; is there a happiness to equal +ours?" Anselmus clasps her with the tenderness of warmest ardor; the +Lily burns in flaming beams over his head. And louder move the trees +and bushes; clearer and gladder play the brooks; the birds, the +shining insects dance in the waves of perfume; a gay, bright rejoicing +tumult, in the air, in the water, in the earth, is holding the +festival of Love! Now rush sparkling streaks, gleaming over all the +bushes; diamonds look from the ground like shining eyes; high gushes +spurt from the wells; strange perfumes are wafted hither on sounding +wings; they are the Spirits of the Elements, who do homage to the +Lily, and proclaim the happiness of Anselmus. Then Anselmus raises his +head, as if encircled with a beamy glory. Is it looks? Is it words? +Is it song? You hear the sound: "Serpentina! Belief in thee, Love of +thee, has unfolded to my soul the inmost spirit of Nature! Thou hast +brought me the Lily, which sprung from Gold, from the primeval Force +of the earth, before Phosphorus had kindled the spark of Thought; this +Lily is Knowledge of the sacred Harmony of all Beings; and in this do +I live in highest blessedness forevermore. Yes, I, thrice happy, +have perceived what was highest; I must indeed love thee forever, O +Serpentina! Never shall the golden blossoms of the Lily grow pale; +for, like Belief and Love, Knowledge is eternal." + +For the vision, in which I had now beheld Anselmus bodily, in his +Freehold of Atlantis, I stand indebted to the arts of the Salamander; +and most fortunate was it that, when all had melted into air, I found +a paper lying on the violet table, with the foregoing statement of the +matter, written fairly and distinctly by my own hand. But now I felt +myself as if transpierced and torn in pieces by sharp sorrow. "Ah, +happy Anselmus, who hast cast away the burden of week-day life, who +in the love of thy kind Serpentina fliest with bold pinion, and now +livest in rapture and joy on thy Freehold in Atlantis! while I--poor +I!--must soon, nay, in a few moments, leave even this fair hall, which +itself is far from a Freehold in Atlantis, and again be transplanted +to my garret, where, enthralled among the pettinesses of necessitous +existence, my heart and my sight are so bedimmed with thousand +mischiefs, as with thick fog, that the fair Lily will never, never be +beheld by me." + +Then Archivarius Lindhorst patted me gently on the shoulder, and said: +"Soft, soft, my honored friend! Lament not so! Were you not even now +in Atlantis, and have you not at least a pretty little copyhold Farm +there, as the poetical possession of your inward sense? And is the +blessedness of Anselmus aught else but a Living in Poesy? Can aught +else but Poesy reveal itself as the sacred Harmony of all Beings, as +the deepest secret of Nature?" + + + + +_FRIEDRICH BARON DE LA MOTTE FOUQUE_ + + * * * * * + + +SELECTIONS FROM UNDINE[46] (1811) + +TRANSLATED BY F.E. BUNNETT + +CHAPTER VIII + +The Day after the wedding + + +The fresh light of the morning awoke the young married pair. Undine +hid bashfully beneath her covers while Huldbrand lay still, absorbed +in deep meditation. Wonderful and horrible dreams had disturbed +Huldbrand's rest; he had been haunted by spectres, who, grinning at +him by stealth, had tried to disguise themselves as beautiful women, +and from beautiful women they all at once assumed the faces of +dragons, and when he started up from these hideous visions the +moonlight shone pale and cold into the room; terrified he looked at +Undine on whose bosom he fell asleep and who still lay in unaltered +beauty and grace. Then he would press a light kiss upon her rosy lips +and would fall asleep again only to be awakened by new terrors. +After he had reflected on all this, now that he was fully awake, he +reproached himself for any doubt that could have led him into error +with regard to his beautiful wife. He begged her to forgive him for +the injustice he had done her, but she only held out to him her fair +hand, sighed deeply, and remained silent. But a glance of exquisite +fervor, such as he had never seen before, beamed from her eyes, +carrying with it the full assurance that Undine bore him no ill-will. +He then rose cheerfully and left her, to join his friends in the +common apartment. + +He found the three sitting round the hearth with an air of anxiety, +as if they dared not venture to speak aloud. The priest seemed to be +praying in his inmost spirit that all evil might be averted. When, +however, they saw the young husband come forth so cheerfully, the +careworn expression of their faces vanished. + +The old fisherman even began to tease the knight, but in so chaste and +modest a manner that the aged wife herself smiled good-humoredly as +she listened to them. Undine at length made her appearance. All rose +to meet her and all stood still with surprise, for the young wife +seemed so strange to them and yet the same. The priest was the first +to advance toward her, with paternal affection beaming in his face, +and, as he raised his hand to bless her, the beautiful woman sank +reverently on her knees before him. With a few humble and gracious +words she begged him to forgive her for any foolish things she might +have said the evening before, and entreated him in an agitated tone +to pray for the welfare of her soul. She then rose, kissed her +foster-parents, and thanking them for all the goodness they had shown +her, she exclaimed, "Oh, I now feel in my innermost heart, how much, +how infinitely much, you have done for me, dear, kind people!" She +could not at first desist from her caresses, but scarcely had she +perceived that the old woman was busy in preparing breakfast than she +went to the hearth, cooked and arranged the meal, and would not suffer +the good old mother to take the least trouble. + +She continued thus throughout the whole day, quiet, kind, and +attentive--at once a little matron and a tender bashful girl. The +three who had known her longest expected every moment to see some +whimsical vagary of her capricious spirit burst forth; but they waited +in vain for it. Undine remained as mild and gentle as an angel. The +holy father could not take his eyes from her, and he said repeatedly +to the bridegroom, "The goodness of heaven, sir, has intrusted a +treasure to you yesterday through me, unworthy as I am; cherish it as +you ought, and it will promote your temporal and eternal welfare." + +[Illustration: FRIEDRICH BARON DE LA MOTTE-FOUQUE.] + +Toward evening Undine was hanging on the knight's arm with humble +tenderness, and drew him gently out of the door where the declining +sun was shining pleasantly on the fresh grass and upon the tall +slender stems of the trees. The eyes of the young wife were moist, +as with the dew of sadness and love, and a tender and fearful secret +seemed hovering on her lips--which, however, was disclosed only by +scarcely audible sighs. She led her husband onward and onward in +silence; when he spoke she answered him only with looks, in which, +it is true, there lay no direct reply to his inquiries, but a whole +heaven of love and timid devotion. Thus they reached the edge of +the swollen forest-stream, and the knight was astonished to see it +rippling along in gentle waves, without a trace of its former wildness +and swell. "By the morning, it will be quite dry," said the beautiful +wife, in a regretful tone, "and you can then travel away wherever you +will, without anything to hinder you." + +"Not without you, my little Undine," replied the knight, laughing; +"remember, even if I wished to desert you, the church, and the +spiritual powers, and the emperor, and the empire, would interpose and +bring the fugitive back again." + +"All depends upon you, all depends upon you," whispered his wife, half +weeping and half smiling. "I think, however, nevertheless, that you +will keep me with you; I love you so heartily. Now carry me across to +that little island that lies before us. The matter shall be decided +there. I could easily indeed glide through the rippling waves, but it +is so restful in your arms, and, if you are to cast me off, I shall +have sweetly rested in them once more for the last time." Huldbrand, +full as he was of strange fear and emotion, knew not what to reply. He +took her in his arms and carried her across, remembering now for the +first time that this was the same little island from which he had +borne her back to the old fisherman on that first night. On the +farther side he put her down on the soft grass, and was on the point +of placing himself lovingly near his beautiful burden when she said, +"No, there, opposite to me! I will read my sentence in your eyes, +before your lips speak; now, listen attentively to what I will relate +to you!" And she began: + +"You must know, my loved one, that there are beings in the elements +which appear almost like you mortals, and which rarely allow +themselves to become visible to your race. Wonderful salamanders +glitter and sport in the flames; lean and malicious gnomes dwell deep +within the earth; spirits, belonging to the air, wander through the +forests; and a vast family of water spirits live in the lakes and +streams and brooks. In resounding domes of crystal, through which the +sky looks in with its sun and stars, these latter spirits find their +beautiful abode; lofty trees of coral, with blue and crimson fruits, +gleam in the gardens; they wander over the pure sand of the sea, and +among lovely variegated shells, and amid all exquisite treasures of +the old world, which the present is no longer worthy to enjoy; all +these the floods have covered with their secret veils of silver, and +the noble monuments sparkle below, stately and solemn, and bedewed by +the loving waters which allure from them many a beautiful moss-flower +and entwining cluster of sea-grass. Those, however, who dwell there, +are very fair and lovely to behold, and for the most part are more +beautiful than human beings. Many a fisherman has been so fortunate +as to surprise some tender mermaid, as she rose above the waters and +sang. He would then tell afar of her beauty, and such wonderful beings +have been given the name of Undines. You, moreover, are now actually +beholding an Undine." + +The knight tried to persuade himself that his beautiful wife was +under the spell of one of her strange humors and that she was taking +pleasure in teasing him with one of her extravagant inventions. But +repeatedly as he said this to himself, he could not believe it for a +moment; a strange shudder passed through him; unable to utter a word, +he stared at the beautiful narrator with an immovable gaze. Undine +shook her head sorrowfully, drew a deep sigh, and then proceeded. + +"Our condition would be far superior to that of you human beings--for +human beings we call ourselves, being similar to them in form and +culture--but there is one evil peculiar to us. We and our like in the +other elements vanish into dust and pass away, body and spirit, +so that not a vestige of us remains behind; and when you mortals +hereafter awake to a purer life we remain with the sand and the sparks +and the wind and the waves. Hence we have also no souls; the element +moves us and is often obedient to us while we live, though it scatters +us to dust when we die; and we are merry, without having aught to +grieve us--merry as the nightingales and little gold-fishes and other +pretty children of nature. But all beings aspire to be higher than +they are. Thus my father, who is a powerful water-prince in the +Mediterranean Sea, desired that his only daughter should become +possessed of a soul, even though she must then endure many of the +sufferings of those thus endowed. Such as we, however, can obtain a +soul only by the closest union of love with one of your human race. +I am now possessed of a soul, and my soul I owe you, my inexpressibly +beloved one, and it will ever thank you if you do not make my whole +life miserable. For what is to become of me if you avoid and reject +me? Still I would not retain you by deceit. And if you mean to reject +me do so now, and return alone to the shore. I will dive into this +brook, which is my uncle; and here in the forest, far removed from +other friends, he passes his strange and solitary life. He is, +however, powerful, and is esteemed and beloved by many great streams; +and as he brought me hither to the fisherman, a light-hearted, +laughing child, he will take me back again to my parents, a loving, +suffering, and soul-endowed woman." + +She was about to say still more, but Huldbrand embraced her with the +most heartfelt emotion and love, and bore her back again to the shore. +It was not till he reached it that he swore, amid tears and kisses, +never to forsake his sweet wife, calling himself more happy than the +Greek sculptor Pygmalion, whose beautiful statue received life from +Venus and became his loved one. In endearing confidence Undine walked +back to the cottage, leaning on his arm, and feeling now for the first +time with all her heart how little she ought to regret the forsaken +crystal palaces of her mysterious father. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +How they lived at Castle Ringstetten + + +The writer of this story, both because it moves his own heart and +because he wishes it to move that of others, begs you, dear reader, to +pardon him if he now briefly passes over a considerable space of time, +only cursorily mentioning the events that marked it. He knows well +that he might portray according to the rules of art, step by step, how +Huldbrand's heart began to turn from Undine to Bertalda; how Bertalda +more and more responded with ardent love to the young knight, and how +they both looked upon the poor wife as a mysterious being rather to +be feared than pitied; how Undine wept, and how her tears stung the +knight's heart with remorse without awakening his former love, so that +though he at times was kind and endearing to her, a cold shudder +would soon draw him from her and he would turn to his fellow-mortal, +Bertalda. All this the writer knows might be fully detailed, and +perhaps ought to have been so; but such a task would have been too +painful, for similar things have been known to him by sad experience, +and he shrinks from their shadow even in remembrance. You know +probably a like feeling, dear reader, for such is the lot of mortal +man. Happy are you if you have received rather than inflicted the +pain, for in such things it is more blessed to receive than to give. +If it be so, such recollections will bring only a feeling of sorrow +to your mind, and perhaps a tear will trickle down your cheek over +the faded flowers that once caused you such delight. But let that be +enough. We will not pierce our hearts with a thousand separate things, +but only briefly state, as I have just said, how matters were. + +Poor Undine was very sad, and the other two were not to be called +happy. Bertalda, especially, thought that she could trace the effect +of jealousy on the part of the injured wife whenever her wishes +were in any way thwarted. She had therefore habituated herself to an +imperious demeanor, to which Undine yielded in sorrowful submission, +and the now blinded Huldbrand usually encouraged this arrogant +behavior in the strongest manner. But the circumstance that most of +all disturbed the inmates of the castle was a variety of wonderful +apparitions which met Huldbrand and Bertalda in the vaulted galleries +of the castle, and which had never been heard of before as haunting +the locality. The tall white man, in whom Huldbrand recognized only +too plainly Uncle Kuehleborn, and Bertalda the spectral master of the +fountain, often passed before them with a threatening aspect, and +especially before Bertalda, on so many occasions that she had several +times been made ill with terror and had frequently thought of quitting +the castle. But still she stayed there, partly because Huldbrand was +so dear to her, and she relied on her innocence, no words of love +having ever passed between them, and partly also because she knew +not whither to direct her steps. The old fisherman, on receiving the +message from the lord of Ringstetten that Bertalda was his guest, had +written a few lines in an almost illegible hand but as well as his +advanced age and long disuse would admit of. "I have now become," he +wrote, "a poor old widower, for my dear and faithful wife is dead. +However lonely I now sit in my cottage, Bertalda is better with you +than with me. Only let her do nothing to harm my beloved Undine! +She will have my curse if it be so." The last words of this letter +Bertalda flung to the winds, but she carefully retained the part +respecting her absence from her father--just as we are all wont to do +in similar circumstances. + +One day, when Huldbrand had just ridden out, Undine summoned the +domestics of the family and ordered them to bring a large stone and +carefully to cover with it the magnificent fountain which stood in the +middle of the castle-yard. The servants objected that it would oblige +them to bring water from the valley below. Undine smiled sadly. "I am +sorry, my people," she replied, "to increase your work. I would +rather myself fetch up the pitchers, but this fountain must be closed. +Believe me that it cannot be otherwise, and that it is only by so +doing that we can avoid a greater evil." + +The whole household were glad to be able to please their gentle +mistress; they made no further inquiry, but seized the enormous stone. +They were just raising it in their hands and were already poising it +over the fountain, when Bertalda came running up and called out to +them to stop, as it was from this fountain that the water was brought +which was so good for her complexion and she would never consent to +its being closed. Undine, however, although gentle as usual, was this +time more than usually firm. She told Bertalda that it was her due, as +mistress of the house, to arrange her household as she thought best, +and that, in this, she was accountable to no one but her lord and +husband. "See, oh, pray see," exclaimed Bertalda, in an angry yet +uneasy tone, "how the poor beautiful water is curling and writhing at +being shut out from the bright sunshine and from the cheerful sight +of the human face, for whose mirror it was created!" The water in the +fountain was indeed wonderfully agitated and hissing; it seemed as if +something within were struggling to free itself, but Undine only the +more earnestly urged the fulfilment of her orders. The earnestness was +scarcely needed. The servants of the castle were as happy in obeying +their gentle mistress as in opposing Bertalda's haughty defiance; and +in spite of all the rude scolding and threatening of the latter, the +stone was soon firmly lying over the opening of the fountain. Undine +leaned thoughtfully over it and wrote with her beautiful fingers on +its surface. She must, however, have had something very sharp and +corrosive in her hand, for when she turned away and the servants +drew near to examine the stone, they perceived all sorts of strange +characters upon it, which none of them had seen there before. + +Bertalda received the knight, on his return home in the evening, with +tears and complaints of Undine's conduct. He cast a serious look at +his poor wife, and she looked down in great distress; yet she said +with great composure, "My lord and husband does not reprove even a +bond-slave without a hearing, how much less, then, his wedded wife?" + +"Speak," said the knight with a gloomy countenance, "what induced you +to act so strangely?" + +"I should like to tell you when we are quite alone," sighed Undine. + +"You can tell me just as well in Bertalda's presence," was the +rejoinder. + +"Yes, if you command me," said Undine; "but command it not. Oh pray, +pray command it not!" She looked so humble, so sweet, so obedient, +that the knight's heart felt a passing gleam from better times. He +kindly placed her arm within his own and led her to his apartment, +when she began to speak as follows: + +"You already know, my beloved lord, something of my evil uncle, +Kuehleborn, and you have frequently been displeased at meeting him in +the galleries of this castle. He has several times frightened Bertalda +into illness. This is because he is devoid of soul, a mere elemental +mirror of the outward world, without the power of reflecting the world +within. He sees, too, sometimes, that you are dissatisfied with me; +that I, in my childishness, am weeping at this, and that Bertalda +perhaps is at the very same moment laughing. Hence he imagines various +discrepancies in our home life, and in many ways mixes unbidden with +our circle. What is the good of my reproving him? What is the use of +my sending him angrily away? He does not believe a word I say. His +poor nature has no idea that the joys and sorrows of love have so +sweet a resemblance, and are so closely linked that no power can +separate them. Amid tears a smile shines forth, and a smile allures +tears from their secret chambers." + +She looked up at Huldbrand, smiling and weeping; and he again +experienced within his heart all the charm of his old love. She felt +this, and, pressing him more tenderly to her, she continued amid tears +of joy, "As the disturber of our peace was not to be dismissed with +words, I have been obliged to shut the door upon him. And the only +door by which he obtains access to us, is that fountain. He is at odds +with the other water-spirits in the neighborhood, counting from the +adjacent valleys, and his kingdom only recommences further off on the +Danube, into which some of his good friends direct their course. For +this reason I had the stone placed over the opening of the fountain, +and I inscribed characters upon it which cripple all my uncle's power, +so that he can now neither intrude upon you, nor upon me, nor upon +Bertalda. Human beings, it is true, can raise the stone again with +ordinary effort, in spite of the characters inscribed on it; the +inscription does not hinder them. If you wish, therefore, follow +Bertalda's desire, but, truly, she knows not what she asks! The +ill-bred Kuehleborn has set his mark especially upon her; and if this +or that came to pass which he has predicted to me and which might +indeed happen without your meaning any evil--ah! dear one, even you +would then be exposed to danger!" + +Huldbrand felt deeply the generosity of his sweet wife, in her +eagerness to shut up her formidable protector while she had even been +chided for it by Bertalda. He pressed her therefore in his arms with +the utmost affection, and said with emotion, "The stone shall remain, +and all shall remain, now and ever, as you wish to have it, my sweet +little Undine." + +She caressed him with humble delight as she heard the expressions +of love so long withheld, and then at length she said, "My dearest +friend, since you are so gentle and kind today, may I venture to ask +a favor of you? See now, it is just the same with you as it is with +summer. In the height of its glory summer puts on the flaming and +thundering crown of mighty storms and assumes the air of a king over +the earth. You too sometimes let your fury rise, and your eyes flash, +and your voice is angry, and this becomes you well, though I in my +folly may sometimes weep at it. But never, I pray you, behave thus +toward me on the water, or even when we are near it. You see, my +relatives would then acquire a right over me. They would unrelentingly +tear me from you in their rage because they would imagine that one of +their race was injured, and I should be compelled all my life to dwell +below in the crystal palaces, and should never be permitted to ascend +to you again; or they would send me up to you--and that, oh God, would +be infinitely worse. No, no, my beloved friend, do not let it come to +that, however dear poor Undine be to you." He promised solemnly to do +as she desired, and husband and wife returned from the apartment, full +of happiness and affection. + +At that moment Bertalda appeared with some workmen to whom she had +already given orders, and said in the sullen tone which she had +assumed of late, "I suppose the secret conference is at an end, and +now the stone may be removed. Go out, workmen, and attend to it." +But the knight, angry at her impertinence, directed in short and very +decisive words that the stone should be left; he reproved Bertalda, +too, for her violence toward his wife. Whereupon the workmen withdrew, +smiling with secret satisfaction; while Bertalda, pale with rage, +hurried away to her rooms. + +The hour for the evening repast arrived, and Bertalda was waited for +in vain. They sent after her, but the domestic found her apartments +empty, and only brought back with him a sealed letter addressed to the +knight. He opened it with alarm, and read: "I feel with shame that +I am only a poor fisher-girl. I will expiate my fault in having +forgotten this for a moment, by returning to the miserable cottage of +my parents. Farewell to you and your beautiful wife." + +Undine was heartily distressed. She earnestly entreated Huldbrand to +hasten after their friend and bring her back again. Alas! she had no +need to urge him. His affection for Bertalda burst forth again with +vehemence. He hurried round the castle, inquiring if any one had seen +which way the beautiful fugitive had gone. He could learn nothing of +her and was already on his horse in the castle-yard, resolved to take +at a venture the road by which he had brought Bertalda hither. Just +then a page appeared, who assured him that he had met the lady on the +path to the Black Valley. Like an arrow the knight sprang through the +gate-way in the direction indicated, without hearing Undine's voice of +agony as she called to him from the window: "To the Black Valley! Oh, +not there! Huldbrand, don't go there! or, for Heaven's sake, take me +with you!" But when she perceived that all her calling was in vain, +she ordered her white palfrey to be saddled immediately and rode after +the knight without allowing any servant to accompany her. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +How Bertalda returned home with the Knight + + +The Black Valley lies deep within the mountains. What it is now called +we do not know. At that time the people of the country gave it this +appellation on account of the deep obscurity in which the low land +lay, owing to the shadows of the lofty trees, and especially firs, +that grew there. Even the brook which bubbled between the rocks wore +the same dark hue, and dashed along with none of that gladness with +which streams are wont to flow that have the blue sky immediately +above them. Now, in the growing twilight of evening, it looked +altogether wild and gloomy between the heights. The knight trotted +anxiously along the edge of the brook, fearful at one moment that +by delay he might allow the fugitive to advance too far, and, at the +next, that by too great rapidity he might overlook her in case she +were concealing herself from him. Meanwhile he had already penetrated +quite a ways into the valley, and might soon hope to overtake the +maiden if he were on the right track, but the fear that this might not +be the case made his heart beat with anxiety. Where would the tender +Bertalda tarry through the stormy night, which was so fearful in the +valley, should he fail to find her? At length he saw something white +gleaming through the branches on the slope of the mountain. He +thought he recognized Bertalda's dress, and turned his course in that +direction. But his horse refused to go forward; it reared impatiently; +and its master, unwilling to lose a moment, and seeing moreover that +the copse was impassable on horseback, dismounted; then, fastening his +snorting steed to an elm-tree, he worked his way cautiously through +the bushes. The branches sprinkled his forehead and cheeks with the +cold drops of the evening dew; a distant roll of thunder was heard +murmuring from the other side of the mountains; everything looked so +strange that he began to feel a dread of the white figure which now +lay only a short distance from him on the ground. Still he could +plainly see that it was a woman, either asleep or in a swoon, and that +she was attired in long white garments such as Bertalda had worn +on that day. He stepped close up to her, made a rustling with the +branches, and let his sword clatter, but she moved not. "Bertalda!" +he exclaimed, at first in a low voice, and then louder and louder--but +still she heard not. At last, when he uttered the dear name with a +more powerful effort, a hollow echo from the mountain-caverns of the +valley indistinctly reverberated "Bertalda!" but still the sleeper +woke not. He bent down over her; the gloom of the valley and the +obscurity of approaching night would not allow him to distinguish her +features. + +Just as he was stooping closer over her with a feeling of painful +doubt, a flash of lightning shot across the valley, he saw before him +a frightfully distorted countenance, and a hollow voice exclaimed, +"Give me a kiss, you enamoured swain!" Huldbrand sprang up with a +cry of horror, and the hideous figure rose with him. "Go home!" it +murmured; "wizards are on the watch. Go home, or I will have you!" and +it stretched out its long white arms toward him. + +"Malicious Kuehleborn!" cried the knight, recovering himself. "Hey, +'tis you, you goblin? There, take your kiss!" And he furiously hurled +his sword at the figure. But it vanished like vapor, and a gush of +water which wetted him through left the knight in no doubt as to the +foe with whom he had been engaged. "He wishes to frighten me back from +Bertalda," said he aloud to himself; "he thinks to terrify me with his +foolish tricks, and to make me give up the poor distressed girl to him +so that he can wreak his vengeance on her. But he shall not do +that, weak spirit of the elements as he is. No powerless phantom +may understand what a human heart can do when its best energies are +aroused." He felt the truth of his words, and that the very expression +of them had inspired his heart with fresh courage. + +It seemed too as if fortune were on his side, for he had not reached +his fastened horse when he distinctly heard Bertalda's plaintive voice +not far distant, and could catch her weeping accents through the ever +increasing tumult of the thunder and tempest. He hurried swiftly +in the direction of the sound, and found the trembling girl just +attempting to climb the steep in order to escape in any way from the +dreadful gloom of the valley. He stepped, however, lovingly in her +path, and, bold and proud as her resolve had been before, she now felt +only too keenly the delight that the friend whom she so passionately +loved should rescue her from this frightful solitude, and that the +joyous life in the castle should be again open to her. She followed +almost unresisting, but so exhausted with fatigue that the knight +was glad to lead her to his horse, which he now hastily unfastened in +order to lift the fair fugitive upon it; and then, cautiously holding +the reins, he hoped to proceed through the uncertain shades of the +valley. + +But the horse had become quite unmanageable from the wild apparition +of Kuehleborn. Even the knight would have had difficulty in mounting +the rearing and snorting animal, but to place the trembling Bertalda +on its back was perfectly impossible. They determined therefore to +return home on foot. Leading the horse after him by the bridle, the +knight supported the tottering girl with his other hand. Bertalda +exerted all her strength to pass quickly through the fearful valley, +but weariness weighed her down like lead and every limb trembled, +partly from the terror she had endured when Kuehleborn had pursued her, +and partly from her continued alarm at the howling of the storm and +the pealing of the thunder through the wooded mountain. + +At last she slid from the supporting arm of her protector, and, +sinking down on the moss, exclaimed, "Let me lie here, my noble lord; +I suffer the punishment due to my folly, and I must now perish here +anyhow through weariness and dread." + +"No, sweet friend, I will never leave you!" cried Huldbrand, vainly +endeavoring to restrain his furious steed; for, worse than before, it +now began to foam and rear with excitement, till at last the knight +was glad to keep the animal at a sufficient distance from the +exhausted maiden to save her from increasing fear. But scarcely had he +withdrawn a few paces with the wild steed than she began to call after +him in the most pitiful manner, believing that he was really going to +leave her in this horrible wilderness. He was utterly at a loss what +course to take. Gladly would he have given the excited beast its +liberty and have allowed it to rush away into the night and spend +its fury, had he not feared that in this narrow defile it might come +thundering with its iron-shod hoofs over the very spot where Bertalda +lay. + +In the midst of this extreme perplexity and distress he heard with +delight the sound of a vehicle driving slowly down the stony road +behind them. He called out for help, and a man's voice replied, +promising assistance, but bidding him have patience; and, soon after, +two gray horses appeared through the bushes, and beside them the +driver in the white smock of a carter; a great white linen cloth was +next visible, covering the goods apparently contained in the wagon. At +a loud shout from their master the obedient horses halted. The driver +then came toward the knight and helped him restrain his foaming +animal. "I see well," said he, "what ails the beast. When I first +traveled this way my horses acted no better. The fact is, there is +an evil water-spirit haunting the place, and he takes delight in +this sort of mischief. But I have learned a charm; if you will let me +whisper it in your horse's ear he will stand at once just as quiet as +my gray beasts are doing there." + +"Try your luck then, only help us quickly!" exclaimed the impatient +knight. + +The wagoner then drew down the head of the rearing charger close to +his own, and whispered something in his ear. In a moment the animal +stood still and quiet, and his quick panting and reeking condition +were all that remained of his previous unmanageableness. Huldbrand had +no time to inquire how all this had been effected. He agreed with the +carter that he should take Bertalda on his wagon, where, as the man +assured him, there was a quantity of soft cotton bales upon which +she could be conveyed to Castle Ringstetten, and the knight was to +accompany them on horseback. But the horse appeared too much exhausted +by its past fury to be able to carry its master so far, so the Carter +persuaded Huldbrand to get into the wagon with Bertalda. The horse +could be tethered on behind. "We are going down hill," said he, "and +that will make it light for my gray beasts." The knight accepted +the offer and entered the wagon with Bertalda; the horse followed +patiently behind, and the wagoner, steady and attentive, walked by the +side. + +In the stillness of the night, as its darkness deepened and the +subsiding tempest sounded more and more remote, encouraged by +the sense of security and their fortunate escape a confidential +conversation arose between Huldbrand and Bertalda. With flattering +words he reproached her for her daring flight; she excused herself +with humility and emotion, and from every word she said a gleam shone +forth which disclosed distinctly to the lover that the beloved was +his. The knight felt the sense of her words far more than he regarded +their meaning, and it was the sense alone to which he replied. +Presently the wagoner suddenly shouted with a loud voice. "Up, my +grays, up with your feet, keep together! Remember who you are!" The +knight leaned out of the wagon and saw that the horses were stepping +into the midst of a foaming stream or were already almost swimming, +while the wheels of the wagon were rushing round and gleaming like +mill-wheels, and the wagoner had climbed up in front in consequence of +the increasing waters. + +"What sort of a road is this? It goes into the very middle of the +stream," cried Huldbrand to his guide. + +"Not at all, sir," returned the other laughing, "it is just the +reverse; the stream goes into the very middle of our road. Look round +and see how every thing is covered by the water." + +The whole valley indeed was suddenly filled with the surging flood, +that visibly increased. "It is Kuehleborn, the evil water-spirit, who +wishes to drown us!" exclaimed the knight. "Have you no charm against +him, my friend?" + +"I know indeed of one," returned the wagoner, "but I cannot and may +not use it until you know who I am." + +"Is this a time for riddles?" cried the knight. "The flood is ever +rising higher, and what does it matter to me to know who you are?" + +"It does matter to you, though," said the wagoner, "for I am +Kuehleborn." So saying, he thrust his distorted face into the wagon +with a grin, but the wagon was a wagon no longer, the horses were not +horses--all was transformed to foam and vanished in the hissing waves, +and even the wagoner himself, rising as a gigantic billow, drew down +the vainly struggling horse beneath the waters, and then, swelling +higher and higher, swept over the heads of the floating pair, like +some liquid tower, threatening to bury them irrecoverably. + +Just then the soft voice of Undine sounded through the uproar, the +moon emerged from the clouds, and by its light Undine was seen on +the heights above the valley. She rebuked, she threatened the floods +below; the menacing tower-like wave vanished, muttering and murmuring, +the waters flowed gently away in the moonlight, and, like a white +dove, Undine flew down from the height, seized the knight and +Bertalda, and bore them with her to a fresh, green, turfy spot on the +hill, where with choice refreshing restoratives she dispelled their +terrors and weariness; then she assisted Bertalda to mount the white +palfrey, on which she had herself ridden here, and thus all three +returned to Castle Ringstetten. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +The Journey to Vienna + + +After this last adventure they lived quietly and happily at the +castle. The knight more and more clearly perceived the heavenly +goodness of his wife, which had been so nobly exhibited by her pursuit +and her rescue in the Black Valley, where Kuehleborn's power again +commenced; Undine herself felt that peace and security which is never +lacking to a mind so long as it is distinctly conscious of being on +the right path, and, besides, in the newly-awakened love and esteem of +her husband many a gleam of hope and joy shone upon her. Bertalda, on +the other hand, showed herself grateful, humble, and timid, without +regarding her conduct as anything meritorious. Whenever Huldbrand or +Undine were about to give her any explanation regarding the covering +of the fountain or the adventure in the Black Valley, she would +earnestly entreat them to spare her the recital, as she felt too much +shame at the recollection of the fountain and too much fear at the +remembrance of the Black Valley. She learned therefore nothing further +of either; and for what end was such knowledge necessary? Peace and +joy had visibly taken up their abode at Castle Ringstetten. They felt +secure on this point, and imagined that life could now produce nothing +but pleasant flowers and fruits. + +In this happy condition of things winter had come and passed away, and +spring with its fresh green shoots and its blue sky was gladdening +the joyous inmates of the castle. Spring was in harmony with them, +and they with spring; what wonder then that its storks and swallows +inspired them also with a desire to travel? One day when they were +taking a pleasant walk to one of the sources of the Danube, Huldbrand +spoke of the magnificence of the noble river, how it widened as it +flowed through countries fertilized by its waters, how the charming +city of Vienna shone forth on its banks, and how with every step of +its course it increased in power and loveliness. "It must be glorious +to go down the river as far as Vienna!" exclaimed Bertalda, but +immediately relapsing into her present modesty and humility she paused +and blushed deeply. + +This touched Undine deeply, and with the liveliest desire to give +pleasure to her friend she asked, "What hinders us from starting on +the little voyage?" Bertalda exhibited the greatest delight, and both +she and Undine began at once to picture in the brightest colors the +tour of the Danube. Huldbrand also gladly agreed to the prospect; only +he once whispered anxiously in Undine's ear, "But Kuehleborn becomes +possessed of his power again out there!" + +"Let him come," she replied with a smile; "I shall be there, and he +ventures upon none of his mischief before me." The last impediment was +thus removed; they prepared for the journey, and soon after set out +upon it with fresh spirits and the brightest hopes. + +But wonder not, O man, if events always turn out different from what +we have intended! That malicious power, lurking for our destruction, +gladly lulls its chosen victim to sleep with sweet songs and golden +fairy tales; while on the other hand the rescuing messenger from +Heaven often knocks sharply and alarmingly at our door. + +During the first few days of their voyage down the Danube they were +extremely happy. Everything grew more and more beautiful, as they +sailed further and further down the proudly flowing stream. But in a +region, otherwise so pleasant, and in the enjoyment of which they had +promised themselves the purest delight, the ungovernable Kuehleborn +began, undisguisedly, to exhibit his power, which started again at +this point. This was indeed manifested in mere teasing tricks, for +Undine often rebuked the agitated waves or the contrary winds, and +then the violence of the enemy would be immediately submissive; but +again the attacks would be renewed, and again Undine's reproofs +would become necessary, so that the pleasure of the little party was +completely destroyed. The boatmen too were continually whispering to +one another in dismay and looking with distrust at the three strangers +whose servants even began more and more to forebode something uncanny +and to watch their masters with suspicious glances. Huldbrand often +said to himself, "This comes from like not being linked with like, +from a man uniting himself with a mermaid!" Excusing himself, as we +all love to do, he would often think indeed as he said this, "I did +not really know that she was a sea-maiden. Mine is the misfortune that +every step I take is disturbed and haunted by the wild caprices of her +race; but mine is not the guilt." By such thoughts as these he felt +himself in some measure strengthened, but, on the other hand, he felt +increasing ill-humor and almost animosity toward Undine. He would look +at her with an expression of anger, the meaning of which the poor +wife understood well. Wearied with this exhibition of displeasure and +exhausted by the constant effort to frustrate Kuehleborn's artifices, +she sank one evening into a deep slumber, rocked soothingly by the +softly gliding bark. + +Scarcely, however, had she closed her eyes when every one in the +vessel imagined he saw, in whatever direction he turned, a most +horrible human head; it rose out of the waves, not like that of a +person swimming, but perfectly perpendicular as if invisibly supported +upright on the watery surface and floating along in the same course +with the bark. Each wanted to point out to the other the cause of his +alarm, but each found the same expression of horror depicted on the +face of his neighbor, only that his hands and eyes were directed to a +different point where the monster, half laughing and half threatening, +rose before him. When, however, they all wished to make one another +understand what each saw, and all were crying out, "Look there--! +No--there!" the horrible heads all appeared simultaneously to their +view, and the whole river around the vessel swarmed with the most +hideous apparitions. The universal cry raised at the sight awoke +Undine. As she opened her eyes the wild crowd of distorted visages +disappeared. But Huldbrand was indignant at such unsightly jugglery. +He would have burst forth in uncontrolled imprecations had not Undine +said to him with a humble manner and a softly imploring tone, "For +God's sake, my husband, we are on the water; do not be angry with me +now." The knight was silent, and sat down absorbed in reverie. Undine +whispered in his ear, "Would it not be better, my love, if we gave up +this foolish journey and returned to Castle Ringstetten in peace?" + +But Huldbrand murmured moodily, "So I must be a prisoner in my own +castle and be able to breathe only so long as the fountain is closed! +I would your mad kindred--" Undine lovingly pressed her fair hand upon +his lips. He paused, pondering in silence over much that Undine had +before said to him. + +Bertalda had meanwhile given herself up to a variety of strange +thoughts. She knew a good deal of Undine's origin, and yet not the +whole, and the fearful Kuehleborn especially had remained to her a +terrible but wholly unrevealed mystery. She had indeed never even +heard his name. Musing on these strange things, she unclasped, +scarcely conscious of the act; a gold necklace, which Huldbrand had +lately purchased for her of a traveling trader; half dreamingly she +drew it along the surface of the water, enjoying the light glimmer +it cast upon the evening-tinted stream. Suddenly a huge hand was +stretched out of the Danube, seizing the necklace and vanishing with +it beneath the waters. Bertalda screamed aloud, and a scornful laugh +resounded from the depths of the stream. The knight could now restrain +his anger no longer. Starting up, he inveighed against the river; he +cursed all who ventured to intrude upon his family and his life, and +challenged them, be they spirits or sirens, to show themselves before +his avenging sword. + +Bertalda wept meanwhile for her lost ornament, which was so precious +to her, and her tears added fuel to the flame of the knight's anger, +while Undine held her hand over the side of the vessel, dipping it +into the water, softly murmuring to herself, and only now and then +interrupting her strange mysterious whisper, as she entreated her +husband, "My dearly loved one, do not scold me here; reprove others +if you will, but not me here. You know why!" And indeed, he restrained +the words of anger that were trembling on his tongue. + +Presently in her wet hand which she had been holding under the waves +she brought up a beautiful coral necklace of so much brilliancy that +the eyes of all were dazzled by it. "Take this," said she, holding it +out kindly to Bertalda; "I have ordered this to be brought for you as +a compensation, and don't be grieved any more, my poor child." + +But the knight sprang between them. He tore the beautiful ornament +from Undine's hand, hurled it again into the river, exclaiming in +passionate rage, "Have you then still a connection with them? In the +name of all the witches, remain among them with your presents and +leave us mortals in peace, you sorceress!" Poor Undine gazed at him +with fixed but tearful eyes, her hand still stretched out as when she +had offered her beautiful present so lovingly to Bertalda. She then +began to weep more and more violently, like a dear innocent child, +bitterly afflicted. At last, wearied out, she said: "Alas, sweet +friend, alas! farewell! They shall do you no harm; only remain true, +so that I may be able to keep them from you. I must, alas, go away; I +must go hence at this early stage of life. Oh woe, woe! What have you +done! Oh woe, woe!" + +She vanished over the side of the vessel. Whether she plunged into the +stream or flowed away with it, they knew not; her disappearance was +like both and neither. Soon, however, she was completely lost sight of +in the Danube; only a few little waves kept whispering, as if sobbing, +round the boat, and they almost seemed to be saying: "Oh woe, woe! Oh, +remain true! Oh, woe!" + +Huldbrand lay on the deck of the vessel, bathed in hot tears, and a +deep swoon presently cast its veil of forgetfulness over the unhappy +man. + + + + +_WILHELM HAUFF_ + + * * * * * + + CAVALRYMAN'S MORNING SONG[47] (1826) + + + Crimson morn, + Shalt thou light me o'er Death's bourn? + Soon will ring the trumpet's call; + Then may I be marked to fall, + I and many a comrade brave! + Scarce enjoyed, + Pleasure drops into the void. + Yesterday on champing stallion; + Picked today for Death's battalion; + Couched tomorrow in the grave! + + Ah! how soon + Fleeth grace and beauty's noon! + Hast thou pride in cheeks aglow, + Whereon cream and carmine flow? + Ah! the loveliest rose turns sere! + Therefore still + I respond to God's high will. + To the last stern fight I'll fit me; + If to Death I must submit me, + Dies a dauntless cavalier! + + * * * * * + + THE SENTINEL[48] (1827) + + + Lonely at night my watch I keep, + While all the world is hush'd in sleep. + Then tow'rd my home my thoughts will rove; + I think upon my distant love. + +[Illustration: WILHELM HAUFF] + + When to the wars I march'd away, + My hat she deck'd with ribbons gay; + She fondly press'd me to her heart, + And wept to think that we must part. + +[Illustration: THE SENTINAL] + + Truly she loves me, I am sure, + So ev'ry hardship I endure; + My heart beats warm, though cold's the night; + Her image makes the darkness bright. + + Now by the twinkling taper's gleam, + Her bed she seeks, of me to dream, + But ere she sleeps she kneels to pray + For one who loves her far away. + + For me those tears thou needst not shed; + No danger fills my heart with dread; + The pow'rs who dwell in heav'n above + Are ever watchful o'er thy love. + + The bell peals forth from yon watch-tower; + The guard it changes at this hour. + Sleep well! sleep well! my heart's with thee; + And in your dreams remember me. + + + + +FRIEDRICH RUeCKERT + + * * * * * + + BARBAROSSA[49] (Between 1814 and 1817) + + + The ancient Barbarossa, + Friedrich, the Kaiser great, + Within the castle-cavern + Sits in enchanted state. + + He did not die; but ever + Waits in the chamber deep, + Where hidden under the castle + He sat himself to sleep. + + The splendor of the Empire + He took with him away, + And back to earth will bring it + When dawns the promised day. + + The chair is ivory purest + Whereof he makes his bed; + The table is of marble + Whereon he props his head. + + His beard, not flax, but burning + With fierce and fiery glow, + Right through the marble table + Beneath his chair does grow. + + He nods in dreams and winketh + With dull, half-open eyes, + And once a page he beckons beckons-- + A page that standeth by. + +[Illustration: FRIEDRICH RUeCKERT] + + He bids the boy in slumber + "O dwarf, go up this hour, + And see if still the ravens + Are flying round the tower; + + And if the ancient ravens + Still wheel above us here, + Then must I sleep enchanted + For many a hundred year." + + * * * * * + + FROM MY CHILDHOOD DAYS[50] (1817, 1818) + + + From my childhood days, from my childhood days, + Rings an old song's plaintive tone-- + Oh, how long the ways, oh, how long the ways + I since have gone! + + What the swallow sang, what the swallow sang, + In spring or in autumn warm-- + Do its echoes hang, do its echoes hang + About the farm? + + "When I went away, when I went away, + Full coffers and chests were there; + When I came today, when I came today, + All, all was bare!" + + Childish lips so wise, childish lips so wise, + With a lore as rich as gold, + Knowing all birds' cries, knowing all birds' cries, + Like the sage of old! + + Ah, the dear old place--ah, the dear old place * * * + May its sweet consoling gleam + Shine upon my face, shine upon my face, + Once in a dream! + + When I went away, when I went away, + Full of joy the world lay there; + When I came today, when I came today, + All, all was bare. + + Still the swallows come, still the swallows come, + And the empty chest is filled-- + But this longing dumb, but this longing dumb + Shall ne'er be stilled. + + Nay, no swallow brings, nay, no swallow brings + Thee again where thou wast before-- + Though the swallow sings, though the swallow sings, + Still as of yore. + + "When I went away, when I went away, + Full coffers and chests were there; + When I came today, when I came today, + All, all was bare!" + + * * * * * + + THE SPRING OF LOVE[51] (1821) + + + Dearest, thy discourses steal + From my bosom's deep, my heart + How can I from thee conceal + My delight, my sorrow's smart? + + Dearest, when I hear thy lyre + From its chains my soul is free. + To the holy angel quire + From the earth, O let us flee! + +[Illustration: MEMORIES OF YOUTH] + + Dearest, how thy music's charms + Waft me dancing through the sky! + Let me round thee clasp my arms, + Lest in glory I should die! + + Dearest, sunny wreaths I wear, + Twined around me by thy lay. + For thy garlands, rich and rare, + O how can I thank thee? Say! + + Like the angels I would be + Without mortal frame, + Whose sweet converse is like thought, + Sounding with acclaim; + + Or like flowers in the dale; + Like the stars that glow, + Whose love-song's a beam, whose words + Like sweet odors flow; + + Or like to the breeze of morn, + Waving round its rose, + In love's dallying caress + Melting as it blows. + + But the love-lorn nightingale + Melteth not away; + She doth but with longing tones + Chant her plaintive lay. + + I am, too, a nightingale, + Songless though I sing; + 'Tis my pen that speaks, though ne'er + In the ear it ring. + + Beaming images of thought + Doth the pen portray; + But without thy gentle smile + Lifeless e'er are they. + + As thy look falls on the leaf, + It begins to sing, + And the prize that's due to love + In her ear doth ring. + + Like a Memmon's statue now + Every letter seems, + Which in music wakes, when kissed + By the morning's beams. + + * * * * * + + "HE CAME TO MEET ME"[52] (1821) + + + He came to meet me + In rain and thunder; + My heart 'gan beating + In timid wonder. + Could I guess whither + Thenceforth together + Our path should run, so long asunder? + + He came to meet me + In rain and thunder, + With guile to cheat me-- + My heart to plunder. + Was't mine he captured? + Or his I raptured? + Half-way both met, in bliss and wonder! + + He came to meet me + In rain and thunder; + Spring-blessings greet me + Spring-blossoms under. + What though he leave me? + No partings grieve me-- + No path can lead our hearts asunder. + + * * * * * + THE INVITATION[53] (1821) + + + Thou, thou art rest + And peace of soul-- + Thou woundst the breast + And makst it whole. + + To thee I vow + 'Mid joy or pain + My heart, where thou + Mayst aye remain. + + Then enter free, + And bar the door + To all but thee + Forevermore. + + All other woes + Thy charms shall lull; + Of sweet repose + This heart be full. + + My worshipping eyes + Thy presence bright + Shall still suffice, + Their only light. + + * * * * * + + MURMUR NOT[54] + + + Murmur not and say thou art in fetters holden, + Murmur not that thou earth's heavy yoke must bear. + Say not that a prison is this world so golden-- + 'Tis thy murmurs only set its harsh walls there. + + Question not how shall this riddle find its reading; + It will solve itself full soon without thine aid. + Say not love hath turned his back, and left thee bleeding-- + Whom hath love deserted, hast thou heard it said? + + If death tries to fright thee, fear not beyond measure; + He will flee from those who boldly face his frown. + Hunt not thou the fleeting deer of worldly pleasure-- + Lion it will turn, and hunt the hunter down. + Chain thyself no longer, heart, to any treasure; + Then thou shalt not say thou art into fetters thrown. + + * * * * * + + A PARABLE[55] (1822) + + + In Syria walked a man one day + And led a camel on the way. + A sudden wildness seized the beast, + And as they strove its rage increased. + So fearsome grew its savagery + That for his life the man must flee. + And as he ran, he spied a cave + That one last chance of safety gave. + He heard the snorting beast behind + Come nearer--with distracted mind + Leaped where the cooling fountain sprang, + Yet not to fall, but catch and hang; + By lucky hap a bramble wild + Grew where the o'erhanging rocks were piled. + He saved himself by this alone, + And did his hapless state bemoan. + He looked above, and there was yet + Too close the furious camel's threat + That still of fearful rage was full. + He dropped his eyes toward the pool, + And saw within the shadows dim + A dragon's jaws agape for him-- + A still more fierce and dangerous foe + If he should slip and fall below. + So, hanging midway of the two, + He spied a cause of terror new: + Where to the rock's deep crevice clung + The slender root on which he swung, + A little pair of mice he spied, + A black and white one side by side-- + First one and then the other saw + The slender stem alternate gnaw. + They gnawed and bit with ceaseless toil, + And from the roots they tossed the soil. + As down it ran in trickling stream, + The dragon's eyes shot forth a gleam + Of hungry expectation, gazed + Where o'er him still the man was raised, + To see how soon the bush would fall, + The burden that it bore, and all. + That man in utmost fear and dread + Surrounded, threatened, hard bested, + In such a state of dire suspense + Looked vainly round for some defense. + And as he cast his bloodshot eye + First here, then there, saw hanging nigh + A branch with berries ripe and red; + Then longing mastered all his dread; + No more the camel's rage he saw, + Nor yet the lurking dragon's maw, + Nor malice of the gnawing mice, + When once the berries caught his eyes. + The furious beast might rage above, + The dragon watch his every move, + The mice gnaw on--naught heeded he, + But seized the berries greedily-- + In pleasing of his appetite + The furious beast forgotten quite. + + You ask, "What man could ever yet, + So foolish, all his fears forget?" + Then know, my friend, that man are you-- + And see the meaning plain to view. + The dragon in the pool beneath + Sets forth the yawning jaws of death; + The beast from which you helpless flee + Is life and all its misery. + There you must hang 'twixt life and death + While in this world you draw your breath. + The mice, whose pitiless gnawing teeth + Will let you to the pool beneath + Fall down, a hopeless castaway, + Are but the change of night and day. + The black one gnaws concealed from sight + Till comes again the morning light; + From dawn until the eve is gray, + Ceaseless the white one gnaws away. + And, 'midst this dreadful choice of ills, + Pleasure of sense your spirit fills + Till you forget the terrors grim + That wait to tear you limb from limb, + The gnawing mice of day and night, + And pay no heed to aught in sight + Except to fill your mouth with fruit + That in the grave-clefts has its root. + + * * * * * + + EVENING SONG[56] (1823) + + + I stood on the mountain summit, + At the hour when the sun did set; + I mark'd how it hung o'er the woodland + The evening's golden net. + + And, with the dew descending, + A peace on the earth there fell-- + And nature lay hushed in quiet, + At the voice of the evening bell. + + I said, "O heart, consider + What silence all things keep, + And with each child of the meadow + Prepare thyself to sleep! + + "For every flower is closing + In silence its little eye; + And every wave in the brooklet + More softly murmureth by. + + "The weary caterpillar + Hath nestled beneath the weeds; + All wet with dew now slumbers + The dragon-fly in the reeds. + + "The golden beetle hath laid him + In a rose-leaf cradle to rock; + Now went to their nightly shelter + The shepherd and his flock. + + "The lark from on high is seeking + In the moistened grass her nest; + The hart and the hind have laid them + In their woodland haunt to rest. + + "And whoso owneth a cottage + To slumber hath laid him down; + And he that roams among strangers + In dreams shall behold his own." + + And now doth a yearning seize me, + At this hour of peace and love, + That I cannot reach the dwelling, + The home that is mine, above. + + * * * * * + + CHIDHER[57] (1824) + + + Chidher, the ever youthful, told: + I passed a city, bright to see; + A man was culling fruits of gold, + I asked him how old this town might be. + He answered, culling as before + "This town stood ever in days of yore, + And will stand on forevermore!" + Five hundred years from yonder day + I passed again the selfsame way, + + And of the town I found no trace; + A shepherd blew on a reed instead; + His herd was grazing on the place. + "How long," I asked, "is the city dead?" + He answered, blowing as before + "The new crop grows the old one o'er, + This was my pasture evermore!" + Five hundred years from yonder day + I passed again the selfsame way. + + A sea I found, the tide was full, + A sailor emptied nets with cheer; + And when he rested from his pull, + I asked how long that sea was here. + Then laughed he with a hearty roar + "As long as waves have washed this shore + They fished here ever in days of yore." + Five hundred years from yonder day + I passed again the selfsame way. + + I found a forest settlement, + And o'er his axe, a tree to fell, + I saw a man in labor bent. + How old this wood I bade him tell. + "'Tis everlasting, long before + I lived it stood in days of yore," + He quoth; "and shall grow evermore." + Five hundred years from yonder day + I passed again the selfsame way. + + I saw a town; the market-square + Was swarming with a noisy throng. + "How long," I asked, "has this town been there? + Where are wood and sea and shepherd's song?" + They cried, nor heard among the roar + "This town was ever so before, + And so will live forevermore!" + "Five hundred years from yonder day + I want to pass the selfsame way." + + * * * * * + + AT FORTY YEARS[58] (1832) + + + When for forty years we've climbed the rugged mountain, + We stop and backward gaze; + Yonder still we see our childhood's peaceful fountain, + And youth exulting strays. + + One more glance behind, and then, new strength acquiring, + Staff grasped, no longer stay; + See, a further slope, a long one, still aspiring + Ere downward turns the way! + + Take a brave long breath and toward the summit hie thee-- + The goal shall draw thee on; + When thou think'st it least, the destined end is nigh thee-- + Sudden, the journey's done! + + * * * * * + + BEFORE THE DOORS[59] + + + I went to knock at Riches' door; + They threw me a farthing the threshold o'er. + + To the door of Love did I then repair-- + But fifteen others already were there. + + To Honor's castle I took my flight-- + They opened to none but to belted knight. + + The house of Labor I sought to win-- + But I heard a wailing sound within. + + To the house of Content I sought the way-- + But none could tell me where it lay. + + One quiet house I yet could name, + Where last of all, I'll admittance claim; + + Many the guests that have knocked before, + But still--in the grave--there's room for more. + +[Illustration: AUGUST GRAF VON PLATEN-HALLERMUND] + + + + + +_AUGUST VON PLATEN-HALLERMUND_ + + * * * * * + + THE PILGRIM BEFORE ST. JUST'S[60] (1819) + + + 'Tis night, and tempests whistle o'er the moor; + Oh, Spanish father, ope the door! + Deny me not the little boon I crave, + Thine order's vesture, and a grave! + Grant me a cell within thy convent-shrine-- + Half of this world, and more, was mine; + The head that to the tonsure now stoops down + Was circled once by many a crown; + The shoulders fretted now with shirt of hair + Did once the imperial ermine wear. + Now am I as the dead, e'er death is come, + And sink in ruins like old Rome. + + * * * * * + + THE GRAVE OF ALARIC[61] (1820) + + + On Busento's grassy banks a muffled chorus echoes nightly, + While the swirling eddies answer and the wavelets ripple lightly. + + Up and down the river, shades of Gothic warriors watch are keeping, + For they mourn their people's hero, Alaric, with sobs of weeping. + + All too soon and far from home and kindred here to rest they laid him, + While in youthful beauty still his flowing golden curls arrayed him. + + And along the river's bank a thousand hands with eager striving + Labored long, another channel for Busento's tide contriving. + + Then a cavern deep they hollowed in the river-bed depleted, + Placed therein the dead king, clad in proof, upon his charger seated. + + O'er him and his proud array the earth they filled, and covered loosely, + So that on their hero's grave the water-plants would grow profusely. + + And again the course they altered of Busento's waters troubled; + In its ancient channel rushed the current--foamed, and hissed, and bubbled. + + And the Goths in chorus chanted: "Hero, sleep! Tiny fame immortal + Roman greed shall ne'er insult, nor break thy tomb's most sacred portal!" + + Thus they sang, and paeans sounded high above the fight's commotion; + Onward roll, Busento's waves, and bear them to the farthest ocean! + + * * * * * + + REMORSE[62] (1820) + + + How I started up in the night, in the night, + Drawn on without rest or reprieval! + The streets with their watchmen were lost to my sight, + As I wandered so light + In the night, in the night, + Through the gate with the arch medieval. + +[Illustration: THE MORNING HOUR] + + The mill-brook rushed from its rocky height; + I leaned o'er the bridge in my yearning; + Deep under me watched I the waves in their flight, + As they glided so light + In the night, in the night, + Yet backward not one was returning. + + O'erhead were revolving, so countless and bright, + The stars in melodious existence; + And with them the moon, more serenely bedight; + They sparkled so light + In the night, in the night, + Through the magical, measureless distance. + + And upward I gazed in the night, in the night, + And again on the waves in their fleeting; + Ah woe! thou hast wasted thy days in delight; + Now silence, thou light, + In the night, in the night, + The remorse in thy heart that is beating. + + * * * * * + + WOULD I WERE FREE AS ARE MY DREAMS[63] (1822) + + + Would I were free as are my dreams, + Sequestered from the garish crowd + To glide by banks of quiet streams + Cooled by the shadow-drifting cloud! + + Free to shake off this weary weight + Of human sin, and rest instead + On nature's heart inviolate-- + All summer singing o'er my head! + + There would I never disembark, + Nay, only graze the flowery shore + To pluck a rose beneath the lark, + Then go my liquid way once more, + + And watch, far off, the drowsy lines + Of herded cattle crop and pass, + The vintagers among the vines, + The mowers in the dewy grass; + + And nothing would I drink or eat + Save heaven's clear sunlight and the spring + Of earth's own welling waters sweet, + That never make the pulses sting. + + * * * * * + + SONNET[64] (1822) + + + Oh, he whose pain means life, whose life means pain, + May feel again what I have felt before; + Who has beheld his bliss above him soar + And, when he sought it, fly away again; + Who in a labyrinth has tried in vain, + When he has lost his way, to find a door; + Whom love has singled out for nothing more + Than with despondency his soul to bane; + Who begs each lightning for a deadly stroke, + Each stream to drown the heart that cannot heal + From all the cruel stabs by which it broke; + Who does begrudge the dead their beds like steel + Where they are safe from love's beguiling yoke-- + He knows me quite, and feels what I must feel. + + + + +FOOTNOTES: + + +[Footnote 1: From Addresses on Religion (Discourse IV).] + +[Footnote 2: This refers to the second book, which takes the form of a +dialogue between the inquirer and a Spirit.] + +[Footnote 3: An allusion to the second book.] + +[Footnote 4: The audience gathered in the building of the Royal +Academy at Berlin.--ED.] + +[Footnote 5: J.G. Hamann. _Hellenistische Briefe_ I, 189.] + +[Footnote 6: Goethe. _Werke_ (1840) xxx., 352. Mr. Ward's translation +of Goethe's "Essays on Art," p. 76.] + +[Footnote 7: Selections translated by Margarete Muensterberg.] + +[Footnote 8: Permission George Bell & Son, London.] + +[Footnote 9: Translator: H.W. Dulcken. Permission Ward, Lock & Company, +Ltd., London.] + +[Footnote 10: Translator: Margarete Muensterberg.] + +[Footnote 11: Translator: C.T. Brooks.] + +[Footnote 12: Translator: Herman Montagu Donner.] + +[Footnote 13: Translator: C.T. Brooks.] + +[Footnote 14: Translator: Margarete Muensterberg.] + +[Footnote 15: Translator: Margarete Muensterberg.] + +[Footnote 16: Translator: Margarete Muensterberg.] + +[Footnote 17: Translator: C.T. Brooks.] + +[Footnote 18: Translator: W.W. Skeat.] + +[Footnote 19: Translator: Henry W. Longfellow.] + +[Footnote 20: Translator: C.T. Brooks.] + +[Footnote 21: Translator: Percy Mackaye.] + +[Footnote 22: Translator: Alfred Baskerville.] + +[Footnote 23: Translator: W.W. Skeat. From _Representative German +Poems_, Henry Holt & Co., New York.] + +[Footnote 24: Translator: W.W. Skeat. From _Representative German +Poems_, Henry Holt & Co., New York.] + +[Footnote 25: Translator: H.W. Dulcken. Permission Ward, Lock & +Company, Ltd., London.] + +[Footnote 26: Translator: W.H. Furness.] + +[Footnote 27: Translator: Margarete Muensterberg] + +[Footnote 28: Translator: Margarete Muensterberg.] + +[Footnote 29: Translator: A.I. du P. Coleman.] + +[Footnote 30: Translator: Margarete Muensterberg.] + +[Footnote 31: Translator: C.T. Brooks.] + +[Footnote 32: Translator: W.H. Furness.] + +[Footnote 33: Translator: Henry W. Longfellow. From _Representative +German Poems_, Henry Holt & Co., New York.] + +[Footnote 34: Translator: Kate Freiligrath-Kroeker. Permission William +Heinemann, London.] + +[Footnote 35: Translator: C.G. Leland. From _Representative German +Poems_, Henry Holt & Co., New York.] + +[Footnote 36: Translator: Alfred Baskerville.] + +[Footnote 37: Translator: Alfred Baskerville.] + +[Footnote 38: Translator: A.I. du P. Coleman] + +[Footnote 39: Translator: Alfred Baskerville] + +[Footnote 40: Translators: Bayard Taylor and Lilian Bayard Taylor +Kiliani. From _A Sheaf of Poems_, permission R.G. Badger, Boston.] + +[Footnote 41: Translator: A.I. du P. Coleman.] + +[Footnote 42: Translator: A.I. du P. Coleman.] + +[Footnote 43: From the _Foreign Quarterly_] + +[Footnote 44: Chapters 2, 6, 8.] + +[Footnote 45: An imaginary musical enthusiast of whom Hoffmann has +written much; under the fiery, sensitive, wayward character of this +crazy bandmaster, presenting, it would seem, a shadowy likeness +of himself. The _Kreisleriana_ occupy a large space among these +_Fantasy-pieces_; and Johannes Kreisler is the main figure in _Kater +Murr_, Hoffmann's favorite but unfinished work. In the third and last +volume, Kreisler was to end, not in composure and illumination, as the +critics would have required, but in utter madness: a sketch of a wild, +flail-like scarecrow, dancing vehemently and blowing soap-bubbles, and +which had been intended to front the last title-page, was found +among Hoffmann's papers, and engraved and published in his _Life and +Remains_.] + +[Footnote 46: Permission Bernhard Tauchnitz, Leipzig.] + +[Footnote 47: Translator: Herman Montagu Donner.] + +[Footnote 48: Translator: John Oxenford. From _Representative German +Poems_, Henry Holt & Co., New York.] + +[Footnote 49: Translators: Bayard Taylor and Lilian Bayard Taylor +Kiliani. + +From _A Sheaf of Poems_, permission R.G. Badger, Boston.] + +[Footnote 50: Translator: A.I. du P. Coleman. + +This is a working-over of an old popular song in imitation of the +swallow's cry, found in various dialect-forms in different parts of +Germany. The most widespread version is: + + Wenn ich wegzieh', wenn ich wegzieh', + Sind Kisten and Kasten voll!' + Wann ich wiederkomm', wann ich wiederkomm', + Ist alles verzehrt.] + +[Footnote 51: Translator: Alfred Baskerville.] + +[Footnote 52: Translator: Bayard Taylor. From _Representative German +Poems_, Henry Holt & Co., New York.] + +[Footnote 53: Translator: A.I. du P. Coleman.] + +[Footnote 54: Translator: A.I. du P. Coleman.] + +[Footnote 55: Translator: A.I. du P. Coleman.] + +[Footnote 56: Translator: H.W. Dulcken. From _Book of German Songs_, +permission Ward, Lock & Company, Ltd., London.] + +[Footnote 57: Translator: Margarete Muensterberg.] + +[Footnote 58: Translator: A.I. du P. Coleman.] + +[Footnote 59: Translator: H.W. Dulcken. Permission Ward, Lock & Company, +Ltd., London.] + +[Footnote 60: Translator: Lord Lindsay. From _Ballads, Songs and +Poems_.] + +[Footnote 61: Translators: Bayard Taylor and Lilian Bayard Taylor +Kiliani. From _A Sheaf of Poems_, permission R.G. Badger, Boston.] + +[Footnote 62: Translator: Henry W. Longfellow. From _Representative +German Poems_, Henry Holt & Co., New York.] + +[Footnote 63: Translator: Percy MacKaye.] + +[Footnote 64: Translator: Margarete Muensterberg.] + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The German Classics of the Nineteenth +and Twentieth Centuries: Masterpieces of German Literature Translated into English, Volume 5., by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GERMAN CLASSICS *** + +***** This file should be named 12888.txt or 12888.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/8/8/12888/ + +Produced by Stan Goodman, Leah Moser and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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