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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/31873-0.txt b/31873-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..04e5172 --- /dev/null +++ b/31873-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6752 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Henry of Ofterdingen: A Romance, by Friedrich von Hardenberg + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: Henry of Ofterdingen: A Romance + +Author: Friedrich von Hardenberg + +Release Date: April 3, 2010 [eBook #31873] +[Most recently updated: July 26, 2021] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Produced by: Charles Bowen + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HENRY OF OFTERDINGEN *** + + + + +2. Hebrew words: krt = kaf-resh-taf = to cut; + krty = kaf-resh-taf-yod = to executioner. + +3. Greek word: Krêtê = Kappa-rho-eta-tau-eta = Crete. + +4. diphthong oe=[oe] + + + + + HENRY OF OFTERDINGEN: + + A ROMANCE. + + + + FROM THE GERMAN OF + + NOVALIS, + + (FRIEDRICH VON HARDENBERG.) + + + + + CAMBRIDGE: + PUBLISHED BY JOHN OWEN. + + M DCCC XLII. + + + + + + Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1842, + BY JOHN OWEN, + in the Clerk's office of the District Court of the District of + Massachusetts. + + + + + CAMBRIDGE PRESS: + LYMAN THURSTON AND WILLIAM TORRY. + + + + + ADVERTISEMENT. + + +The present translation is made from the edition of Tieck and Schlegel. +The life of the author is chiefly drawn from the one written by the +former. The completion of the second part is also by the same writer. + +Richter said, in a prophetic feeling of the fate of his own works, that +translators were like wagoners who carry good wine to fairs--but most +unaccountably water it before the end of the journey. Which allusion +and semi-confession is meant to take the place of the usual apology; +and the reader can proceed without farther preface. + +_Cambridge_, _June_, 1842. + + + + + ERRATA. + +Page xvi, line tenth from bottom, _for_ tion. He _read_ tion, he + +Page 22, line ninth from top, _for_ work _read_ woke + +Page 66, first word of the poetry, _for_ Though _read_ Through + + + + + LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. + + + +Probably some of the readers of this volume will feel an interest in +the author's life. Although there are but few works, in which the mind +of the author is more clearly and purely reflected than in this; yet it +is natural that the reader should feel some interest in the outward +circumstances of one, who has become dear to him; and those friends of +Novalis, who have never known him personally, will be glad to hear all +that we can bring to light concerning him. + +The Baron of Hardenberg, the father of the author, was director of the +Saxonian salt works. He had been a soldier in his younger days, and +retained even in his old age a predilection for a military life. He was +a robust, ever active man, frank and energetic;--a pure German. The +pious character of his mind led him to join the Moravian community; yet +he remained frank, decided, and upright. His mother, a type of elevated +piety and Christian meekness, belonged to the same religious community. +She bore with lofty resignation the loss, within a few successive +years, of a blooming circle of hopeful and well educated children. + +Friedrich von Hardenberg (Novalis) was born on the second of May, in +the year 1772, on a family estate in the county of Mansfield. He was +the oldest of eleven children, with the exception of a sister who was +born a year earlier. The family consisted of seven sons and four +daughters, all distinguished for their wit and the lofty tone of their +minds. Each possessed a peculiar disposition, while all were united by +a beautiful and generous affection to each other and to their parents. +Friedrich von Hardenberg was weak in constitution from his earliest +childhood, without, however, suffering from any settled or dangerous +disease. He was somewhat of a day-dreamer, silent and of an inactive +disposition. He separated himself from the society of his playmates; +but his character was distinguished from that of other children, only +by the ardor of his love for his master. He found his companions in his +own family. His spirit seemed to be wakened from its slumber, by a +severe disease in his ninth year, and by the stimulants applied for his +recovery; and he suddenly appeared brighter, merrier, and more active. +His father, who was obliged by his business to be much of his time away +from home, entrusted his education for the most part to his mother, and +to family tutors. The gentleness, meekness, and the pure piety of his +mother's character, as well as the religious habits of both parents, +which naturally extended to the whole household, made the deepest +impression upon his mind; an impression which exerted the happiest +influence upon him throughout his whole life. He now applied himself +diligently to his studies, so that in his twelfth year he had acquired +a pretty thorough knowledge of the Latin language, and some smattering +of Greek. The reading of Poetry was the favorite occupation of his +leisure hours. He was particularly pleased with the higher kind of +fables, and amused himself by composing them and relating them to his +brothers. He was accustomed for several years to act, in concert with +his brothers Erasmus and Charles, a little poetical play, in which they +took the characters of spirits, one of the air, another of the water, +and the other of the earth. On Sunday evenings, Novalis would explain +to them the most wonderful and various appearances and phenomena of +these different realms. There are still in existence some of his poems +written about this period. + +He now applied himself too severely to study, especially to history, in +which he took a deep interest. In the year 1789, he entered a +Gymnasium, and in the autumn went to Jena to pursue his studies there. +Here he remained until 1792, and then with his brother Erasmus entered +the University at Leipzig; he left the following year for Wittenberg, +and there finished his studies. + +At this time the French war broke out, which not only interrupted his +studies greatly, but which also inspired him suddenly with so great a +desire to enter upon a military life, that the united prayers of his +parents and relations were scarcely able to restrain his wishes. + +About this time he became acquainted with Frederick Schlegel, and soon +became his warmest friend; he also gained the friendship of Fichte; and +these two great spirits exerted a powerful and lasting influence upon +his whole life. After applying himself with unwearied ardor to the +sciences, he left Wittenberg for Arnstadt in Thuringia, in order to +accustom himself to practical business with Just, the chief judiciary +of the district. This excellent man soon became one of his nearest +friends. Shortly after his arrival at Arnstadt, he became acquainted +with Sophia von K., who resided at a neighboring country seat. The +first sight of her beautiful and lovely form decided the fate of his +whole life; or rather the passion, which penetrated and inspired his +soul, became the contents of his whole life. Often even in the face of +childhood, there is an expression so sweet and spiritual, that we call +it supernatural and heavenly; and the fear impresses itself on our +hearts, that faces, so transfigured and transparent, are too tender and +too finely woven for this life; that it is death or immortality that +gazes through the glancing eye; and too often are our forebodings +realized by the rapid withering of such blossoms. Still more beautiful +are such forms, when, childhood left behind, they have advanced to the +full bloom of youth. All who knew the betrothed of our author are +agreed, that no description could do justice to her beauty, grace, and +heavenly simplicity. She was in her fourteenth year when Novalis became +acquainted with her; and the spring and summer of 1795 were indeed the +blooming season of his life. Every hour he could spare from his +business was spent at Grüningen; and late in the fall of 1796, he was +betrothed to Sophia with the consent of her parents. Shortly after she +was taken severely sick with a fever, which, though it lasted but a few +weeks, yet left her with a pain in the side, which by its intensity +rendered unhappy many of her hours. Novalis was much alarmed, but was +quieted by her physician, who pronounced this pain of no consequence. + +Shortly after her recovery he departed for Weissenfels, where he was +appointed auditor in the department of which his father was director. +He passed the winter of 1795-96 in business, hearing news from +Grüningen of a quieting character. He journeyed thither in the spring, +and found his betrothed to all appearance recovered. At this time his +brother Erasmus was taken sick, so that he left off his studies, and +devoted himself in a distant place to the chase and a forest life. His +brother Charles joined the army, and in the spring entered upon active +service. Thus Novalis lived quietly at home, his parents and sisters +forming his chief society, the other children being yet quite young. In +the summer, while he was rejoicing in the prospect of being soon united +to Sophia, he received information, that she was at Jena, and there on +account of ulceration of the liver, had undergone a severe operation. +It had been her wish, that he should not be informed of her sickness, +nor of the dangerous operation, till it was over. He hastened to Jena, +and found her in intense suffering. Her physician, one far famed for +his ability, could allow them to hope only for a very slow recovery, if +indeed she should survive. He was obliged to repeat the operation, and +feared that she would want strength to support her through the healing +process. With lofty courage and indescribable fortitude, Sophia bore up +against all her sufferings. Novalis was there to console her; his +parents offered up their sympathetic prayers; his two brothers had +returned and strove to be of service to the sorrowing one, as well as +to the suffering. In December Sophia desired to visit Grüningen again. +Novalis requested Erasmus to accompany her on her journey. He did so, +together with her mother and sisters, who had attended her at Jena. +After having accompanied her to her place of residence, he returned to +his residence in Franconia. + +Novalis was now by turns in Weissenfels and Grüningen. With great +grief, however, he was obliged to confess, that he found Sophia worse +and worse at every visit. Towards the end of January, 1797, Erasmus +also returned to Weissenfels very sick, and the expected deaths of two +beings, so much beloved, filled the house with gloom. + +The 17th of March was Sophia's fifteenth birthday, and on the 19th, +about noon, she fell asleep in the arms of her sisters, and faithful +instructress Mademoiselle Danscour, who loved her tenderly. No one +dared bring the news to Novalis, until his brother Charles at last +undertook the mournful office. For three days and nights, the mourner +shut himself up from his friends, weeping away the hours, and then +hastened to Arnstadt, that he might be with his truest friends, and +nearer to the beloved place, which contained the remains of her who was +dearest to him. On the 14th of April, he also lost his brother Erasmus. +Novalis writing to his brother Charles, who had been obliged to travel +to Lower Saxony, says, speaking of the death of Erasmus, "Be consoled; +Erasmus has conquered; the flowers of the lovely wreath are dropping +off, one by one, to be united more beautifully in Heaven." + +At this time Novalis, living as he did only for suffering, naturally +regarded the visible and the invisible world as one, and regarded life +and death as distinguished only by our longing for the latter. At the +same time life was transfigured before him, and his whole being flowed +together as in a clear conscious dream of a higher existence. His +sensibilities, as well as his imagination, were very much decided from +the solemnity of his suffering, from his heartfelt love, and from the +pious longing for death, which he cherished. It is indeed very +possible, that deep sorrow at this time planted the death-seed in him; +unless perhaps it was his irrevocable destiny, to be so early torn +away. + +He remained many weeks in Thuringia, and returned consoled and truly +exalted to his business, which he pursued more eagerly than ever, +though he regarded himself as a stranger upon earth. About this time, +some earlier, some later, but particularly during the fall of this +year, he composed most of those pieces, which have been published under +the title of "Fragments," as also his "Hymns to Night." + +In December of this year, he went to Freiberg, where the acquaintance +and instruction of the renowned Werner awoke anew his passion for +physical science, and especially for mining. Here he became acquainted +with Julia von Ch.; and, strange as it may appear to all but his +intimate friends, he was betrothed to her, as early as the year 1798. +Sophia (as we may see from his works) remained the balancing point of +his thoughts; he honored her, absent as she was, even more than when +present with him; but yet he thought that loveliness and beauty could, +to a certain degree, replace her loss. About this time he wrote "Faith +and Love," the "Flower Dust," and some other fragments, as "The Pupils +at Sais." In the spring of 1799, Sophia's instructress died; which +event moved Novalis the more deeply, because he knew that sorrow for +the loss of her beloved pupil had chiefly contributed to hasten her +death. Soon after this event he returned to the paternal estate, and +was appointed under his father Assessor and chief Judiciary of the +Thuringian district. + +He now visited Jena often, and there became acquainted with A. W. +Schlegel, and sought out the gifted Ritter, whom he particularly loved, +and whose peculiar talent for experimenting he greatly admired. Ludwig +Tieck saw him this year for the first time, while on a visit to his +friend Wm. Schlegel. Their acquaintance soon ripened into a warm +friendship. These friends, in company with Schlegel, Schelling, and +other strangers, passed many happy days in Jena. On his return, Tieck +visited Novalis at his father's house, became acquainted with his +family, and for the first time listened to the reading of "the Pupils +at Sais," and many of his fragments. He then accompanied him to Halle, +and many hours were peacefully passed in Reichardt's house. His first +conception of Henry of Ofterdingen dates about this time. He had also +already written some of his spiritual songs; they were to make a part +of a hymn book, which he intended to accompany with a volume of +sermons. Besides these labors he was very industrious in the duties of +his office; all his duties were attended to with willingness, and +nothing of however little importance was insignificant to him. + +When Tieck, in the autumn of 1799, took up his residence at Jena, and +Frederick Schlegel also dwelt there, Novalis often visited them, +sometimes for a short, and sometimes for a longer time. His eldest +sister was married about this time, and the wedding was celebrated at a +country seat near Jena. After this marriage Novalis lived for a long +time in a lonely place in the golden meadow of Thuringia, at the foot +of the Kyffhauser mountain; and in this solitude he wrote a great part +of Henry of Ofterdingen. His society this year was mostly confined to +that of two men; a brother-in-law of his betrothed, the present General +von Theilman, and the present General von Funk, to whom he had been +introduced by the former. The society of the last-mentioned person was +valuable to him in more than one respect. He made use of his library, +among whose chronicles he, in the spring, first hit upon the traditions +of Ofterdingen; and by means of the excellent biography of the emperor +Frederick the Second, by General von Funk, he became entirely possessed +with lofty ideas concerning that ruler, and determined to represent him +in his romance as a pattern for a king. + +In the year 1800, Novalis was again at Weissenfels, whence, on the 23d +of February, he wrote to Tieck,--"My Romance is getting along finely. +About twelve printed sheets are finished. The whole plan is pretty much +laid out in my mind. It will consist of two parts; the first, I hope, +will be finished in three weeks. It contains the basis and introduction +to the second part. The whole may be called an Apotheosis of Poesy. +Henry of Ofterdingen becomes in the first part ripe for a poet, and in +the second part is declared poet. It will in many respects be similar +to Sternbald, except in lightness. However, this want will not probably +be unfavorable to the contents. In every point of view it is a first +attempt, the print of that spirit of poesy, which your acquaintance has +reawakened in me, and which gives to your friendship its chief value. + +"There are some songs in it, which suit my taste. I am very much +pleased with the real romance,--my head is really dizzy with the +multitude of ideas I have gathered for romances and comedies. If I can +visit you soon, I will bring you a tale and a fable from my romance, +and will subject them to your criticism." He visited his friends at +Jena the next spring, and soon repeated his visit, bringing the first +part of Henry of Ofterdingen, in the same form as that of which this +volume is a translation. + +When Tieck, in the summer of 1800, left Jena, he visited his friend for +some time at his father's house. He was well and calm in his spirits; +though his family were somewhat alarmed about him, thinking that they +noticed, that he was continually growing paler and thinner. He himself +was more attentive than usual to his diet; he drank little or no wine, +ate scarcely any meat, living principally on milk and vegetables. "We +took daily walks," says Tieck, "and rides on horseback. In ascending a +hill swiftly, or in any violent motion, I could observe neither +weakness in his breast nor short breath, and therefore endeavored to +persuade him to forsake his strict mode of life; because I thought his +abstemiousness from wine and strengthening food not only irritating in +itself, but also to proceed from a false anxiety on his part. He was +full of plans for the future; his house was already put in order, for +in August he intended to celebrate his nuptials. He spake with great +pleasure of finishing Ofterdingen and other works. His life gave +promise of the most useful activity and love. When I took leave of him, +I never could have imagined that we were not to meet again." + +When in August he was about departing for Freiberg to celebrate his +marriage, he was seized with an emission of blood, which his physician +declared to be mere hemorrhoidal and insignificant. Yet it shook his +frame considerably, and still more when it began to return +periodically. His wedding was postponed, and, in the beginning of +October, he travelled with his brother and parents to Dresden. Here +they left him, in order to visit their daughter in Upper Lausatia, his +brother Charles remaining with him in Dresden. He became apparently +weaker; and when, in the beginning of November, he learned that a +younger brother, fourteen years of age, had been drowned through mere +carelessness, the sudden shock caused a violent bleeding at the lungs, +upon which the physician immediately declared his disease incurable. +Soon after this his betrothed came to Dresden. + +As he grew weaker, he longed to change his residence to some warmer +climate. He thought of visiting his friend Herbert; but his physician +advised against such a change, perhaps considering him already too weak +to make such a journey. Thus the year passed away; and, in January +1801, he longed so eagerly to see his parents and be with them once +more, that at the end of the month he returned to Weissenfels. There +the ablest physicians from Leipzig and Jena were consulted, yet his +case grew rapidly worse, although he was perfectly free from pain, as +was the case through his whole illness. He still attended to the duties +of his office, and wrote considerably in his private papers. He also +composed some poems about this time, read the Bible diligently, and +much from the works of Zinzendorf and Lavater. The nearer he approached +his end, the stronger was his hope of recovery; for his cough abated, +and, with the exception of debility, he had none of the feelings of a +sick man. With this hope and longing for life, fresh powers and new +talents seemed to awaken within him; he thought with renewed love of +his projected labors, and undertook to write Henry of Ofterdingen anew. +Once, shortly before his death, he said; "I now begin, for the first +time, to see what true poetry is. Innumerable songs and poems far +different from those I have written awake within me." From the 19th of +March, the day on which Sophia died, he became very perceptibly weaker; +many of his friends visited him, and he was particularly delighted +when, on the 21st of March, his faithful and oldest friend Frederick +Schlegel came to see him from Jena. He conversed much with him, +particularly concerning their mutual labors. During these days his +spirits were good, his nights quiet, and he enjoyed tranquil sleep. +About six o'clock on the morning of the 26th, he asked his brother to +hand him some books, in order to look out certain passages, that he had +in mind; he then ordered his breakfast, and conversed with his usual +vivacity till eight. Towards nine he asked his brother to play for him +on the piano, and soon after fell asleep. Frederick Schlegel soon after +entered the chamber, and found him sleeping quietly. This sleep lasted +till twelve o'clock, at which hour he expired without a struggle; and +unchanged in death his countenance retained the same pleasant +expression, that it exhibited during life. + +Thus died our author before he had finished his nine-and-twentieth +year. In him we may alike love and admire his extensive knowledge and +his philosophical genius, as well as his poetical talents. With a +spirit much in advance of his times, his country might have promised +itself great things of him, had not an untimely death cut him off. Yet +his unfinished writings have already had their influence; many of his +great thoughts will yet inspire futurity; and noble minds and deep +thinkers will be enlightened and set on fire by the sparks of his +spirit. + +Novalis was slender and of fine proportions. He wore his light brown +hair long, hanging over his shoulders in flowing locks, a style less +singular then than now; his brown eye was clear and brilliant, and his +complexion, particularly his forehead, almost transparent. His hands +and feet were rather too large, and had something awkward about them. +His countenance was always serene and benignant. To those, who judge +men by their forwardness, or by their affectation of fashion or +dignity, Novalis was lost in the crowd; but to the practised eye he +appeared beautiful. The outlines and expression of his face resembled +very much those of St. John, as he is represented in the magnificent +picture of A. Dürer, preserved in Nuremberg and München. + +His speech was clear and vivacious. "I never saw him tired," says +Tieck, "even when we continued together till late at night; he only +stopped voluntarily to rest, and then read before he fell asleep." He +knew not what it was to be tired, even in the wearisome companionship +of vulgar minds; for he always found some one, who could impart some +information to him, useful, though apparently insignificant. His +urbanity and sympathy for all made him universally beloved. So skilful +was he in his intercourse with others, that lower minds never felt +their inferiority. Although he preferred to veil the depths of his mind +in conversation, speaking, however, as if inspired, of the invisible +world, he was yet merry, as a child, full of art and frolic, giving +himself wholly up to the jovial spirit prevailing in the company. Free +from self-conceit or arrogance, a stranger to affectation or +dissimulation, he was a pure, true man; the purest, loveliest spirit, +ever tabernacled in the flesh. + +His chief studies for many years were philosophy and physical science. +In the latter he discovered and foretold truths, of which his own age +was in ignorance. In philosophy he principally studied Spinoza and +Fichte; but soon marked out a new path, by aiming to unite philosophy +with religion; and thus what we possess of the writings of the new +Platonists, as well as of the mystics, became very important to him. +His knowledge of mathematics, as well as of the mechanic arts, +especially of mining, was very considerable. But in the fine arts he +took but little interest. Music he loved much, although he knew little +about its rules. He had scarcely turned his attention to painting and +sculpture; still he could advance many original ideas about those arts, +and pronounce skilful judgment upon them. + +Tieck mentions an argument with him, concerning landscape painting, in +which Novalis expressed views, which he could not comprehend; but which +in part were realized, by the rich and poetical mind of the excellent +landscape painter, Friedrichs, of Dresden. In the land of Poetry he was +in reality a stranger. He had read but few poets, and had not busied +himself with criticism, or paid much attention to the inherited system, +to which the art of poetry had been reduced. Goethe was for a long +while his study, and Wilhelm Meister his favorite work; although we +should scarcely suppose so, judging from his severe strictures upon it +in his fragments. He demanded from poesy the most everyday knowledge +and inspiration; and it was for this reason, that, as the chief +masterpieces of poetry were unknown to him, he was free from imitation +and foreign rule. He also loved, for this very reason, many writings, +which are not generally highly prized by scholars, because in them he +discovered, though perhaps painted in weak colors, that very informing +and significant knowledge, which he was chiefly striving after. + +Those tales, which we in later times call allegories[1] with their +peculiar style, most resemble his stories; he saw their deepest +meaning, and endeavored to express it most clearly in some of his +poems. It became natural for him to regard what was most usual and +nearest to him, as full of marvels, and the strange and supernatural as +the usual and common-place. Thus everyday life surrounded him like a +supernatural story; and that region, which most men can only conceive +as something distant and incomprehensible, seemed to him like a beloved +home. Thus uncorrupted by precedents, he discovered a new way of +drawing and exhibiting his pictures; and in the manifold variety of his +relation to the world, from his love and the faith in it, which at the +same time was his instructress, wisdom, and religion, since through +them a single great moment of life, and one deep grief and loss became +the essence of his poesy and of his contemplation, he resembles among +late writers the sublime Dante alone, and like him sings to us an +unfathomable mystical song, very different from that of many imitators, +who think, that they can assume and lay aside mysticism as they could a +mere ornament. Therefore his romance is both consciously and +unconsciously the representation of his own mind and fate; as he makes +Henry say, in the fragment of the second part, "Fate and mind are but +names of one idea." Thus may his life justly appear wonderful to us. We +shudder too, as though reading a work of fiction, when we learn, that +of all his brothers and sisters only two brothers are now alive; and +that his noble mother, who for several years has also been mourning the +death of her husband, is in solitude, devoting herself to her grief and +to religion with silent resignation. + + + + + + + HENRY OF OFTERDINGEN. + + + + + PART FIRST. + + THE EXPECTATION. + + + + + DEDICATION. + + + + Thou didst to life my noble impulse warm, + Deep in the spirit of the world to look. + And with thy hand a trusting faith I took, + Securely bearing me through every storm, + With sweet forebodings thou the child didst bless, + To mystic meadows leading him away, + Stirring his bosom to its finest play, + Ideal, thou, of woman's tenderness. + Earth's vexing trifles shall I not refuse? + Thine is my heart and life eternally,-- + Thy love my being constantly renews! + To art I dedicate myself for thee, + For thou, beloved, wilt become the Muse + And gentle Genius of my poesy. + + In endless transmutation here below + The hidden might of song our land is greeting; + Now blesses us in form of Peace unfleeting, + And now encircles us with childhood's glow. + She pours an upper light upon the eye, + Defines the sentiment for every art, + And dwells within the glad or weary heart, + To comfort it with wondrous ecstasy. + Through her alone I woke to life the truest, + Drinking the proffered nectar of her breast, + And dared to lift my face with joy the newest. + Yet was my highest sense with sleep oppressed. + Till angel-like thou, loved one, near me flewest. + And, kindling in thy look, I found the rest. + + + + + + THE EXPECTATION. + + + + + CHAPTER I. + + +The parents had already retired to rest; the old clock ticked +monotonously from the wall; the windows rattled with the whistling +wind, and the chamber was dimly lighted by the flickering glimmer of +the moon. The young man lay restless on his bed, thinking of the +stranger and his tales. "It is not the treasures," said he to himself, +"that have awakened in me such unutterable longings. Far from me is all +avarice; but I long to behold the blue flower. It is constantly in my +mind, and I can think and compose of nothing else. I have never been in +such a mood. It seems as if I had hitherto been dreaming, or slumbering +into another world; for in the world, in which hitherto I have lived, +who would trouble himself about a flower?--I never have heard of such a +strange passion for a flower here. I wonder, too, whence the stranger +comes? None of our people have ever seen his like; still I know not why +I should be so fascinated by his conversation. Others have listened to +it, but none are moved by it as I am. Would that I could explain my +feelings in words! I am often full of rapture, and it is only when the +blue flower is out of my mind, that this deep, heart-felt longing +overwhelms me. But no one can comprehend this but myself. I might think +myself mad, were not my perception and reasonings so clear; and this +state of mind appears to have brought with it superior knowledge on all +subjects. I have heard, that in ancient times beasts, and trees, and +rocks conversed with men. As I gaze upon them, they appear every moment +about to speak to me; and I can almost tell by their looks what they +would say. There must yet be many words unknown to me. If I knew more, +I could comprehend better. Formerly I loved to dance, now I think +rather to the music." + +The young man gradually lost himself in his sweet fancies, and feel +asleep. Then he dreamed of regions far distant, and unknown to him. He +crossed the sea with wonderful ease; saw many strange monsters; lived +with all sorts of men, now in war, now in wild tumult, and now in +peaceful cottages. Then he fell into captivity and degrading want. His +feelings had never been so excited. His life was an unending tissue, of +the brightest colors. Then came death, a return again to life; he +loved, loved intensely, and was separated from the object of his +passion. At length towards the break of day his soul became calmer, and +the images his fancy formed grew clearer, and more lasting. He dreamed +that he was walking alone in a dark forest, where the light broke only +at intervals through the green net-work of the trees. He soon came to a +passage through some rocks, which led to the top of a neighboring hill, +and, to ascend which he was obliged to scramble over the mossy stones, +which some stream in former times had torn down. The higher he climbed, +the more was the forest lit up, until at last he came to a small meadow +situated on the declivity of the mountain. Behind the meadow rose a +lofty cliff, at whose foot an opening was visible, which seemed to be +the beginning of a path hewn in the rock. The path guided him gently +along, and ended in a wide expanse, from which at a distance a clear +light shone towards him. On entering this expanse, he beheld a mighty +beam of light, which, like the stream from a fountain, rose to the +overhanging clouds, and spread out into innumerable sparks, which +gathered themselves below into a great basin. The beam shone like +burnished gold; not the least noise was audible; a holy silence reigned +around the splendid spectacle. He approached the basin, which trembled +and undulated with ever-varying colors. The sides of the cave were +coated with the golden liquid, which was cool to the touch, and which +cast from the walls a weak, blue light. He dipped his hand in the +basin, and bedewed his lips. He felt as if a spiritual breath had +pierced through him, and he was sensibly strengthened and refreshed. A +resistless desire to bathe himself made him undress and step into the +basin. Then a cloud tinged with the glow of evening appeared to +surround him; feelings as from Heaven flowed into his soul; thoughts +innumerable and full of rapture strove to mingle together within him; +new imaginings, such as never before had struck his fancy, arose before +him, which, flowing into each other, became visible beings about him. +Each wave of the lovely element pressed to him like a soft bosom. The +flood seemed like a solution of the elements of beauty, which +constantly became embodied in the forms of charming maidens around him. +Intoxicated with rapture, yet conscious of every impression, he swam +gently down the glittering stream. A sweeter slumber now overcame him. +He dreamed of many strange events, and a new vision appeared to him. He +dreamed that he was sitting on the soft turf by the margin of a +fountain, whose waters flowed into the air, and seemed to vanish in it. +Dark blue rocks with various colored veins rose in the distance. The +daylight around him was milder and clearer than usual; the sky was of a +sombre blue, and free from clouds. But what most attracted his notice, +was a tall, light-blue flower, which stood nearest the fountain, and +touched it with its broad, glossy leaves. Around it grew numberless +flowers of varied hue, filling the air with the richest perfume. But he +saw the blue flower alone, and gazed long upon it with inexpressible +tenderness. He at length was about to approach it, when it began to +move, and change its form. The leaves increased their beauty, adorning +the growing stem. The flower bended towards him, and revealed among its +leaves a blue, outspread collar, within which hovered a tender face. +His delightful astonishment was increasing with this singular change, +when suddenly his mother's voice awoke him, and he found himself in his +parents' room, already gilded by the morning sun. He was too happy to +be angry at the sudden disturbance of his sleep. He bade his mother a +kind good morning, and returned her hearty embrace. + +"You sleeper," said his father, "how long have I been sitting here +filing? I have not dared to do any hammering on your account. Your +mother would let her dear son sleep. I have been obliged to wait for my +breakfast too. You have done wisely in choosing to become one of the +learned, for whom we wake and work. But a real, thorough student, as I +have been told, is obliged to spend his nights in studying the works of +our wise forefathers." + +"Dear father," said Henry, "let not my long sleep make you angry with +me, for you are not accustomed to be so. I fell asleep late, and have +been much disturbed by dreams. The last, however, was pleasant, and one +which I shall not soon forget, and which seems to me to have been +something more than a mere dream." + +"Dear Henry," said his mother, "you have certainly been lying on your +back, or else your thoughts were wandering at evening prayers. Come, +eat your breakfast, and cheer up." + +Henry's mother went out. His father worked on industriously, and said; +"Dreams are froth, let the learned think what they will of them; and +you will do well to turn your attention from such useless and hurtful +speculations. The times when Heavenly visions were seen in dreams have +long past by, nor can we understand the state of mind, which those +chosen men, of whom the Bible speaks, enjoyed. Dreams, as well as other +human affairs, must have been of a different nature then. In the age in +which we live, there is no direct intercourse with Heaven. Old +histories and writings are now the only fountains, from which we can +draw, as far as is needful, a knowledge of the spiritual world; and +instead of express revelations, the Holy Ghost now speaks to us +immediately through the understandings of wise and sensible men, and by +the lives and fate of those most distinguished for their piety. I have +never been much edified by the visions, which are now seen; nor do I +place much confidence in the wonders, which our divines relate about +them. Yet let every one, who can, be edified by them; I would not cause +any one to err in his faith." + +"But, dear father, upon what grounds are you so opposed to belief in +dreams, when singular changes, and flighty, unstable nature, are at +least worthy of some reflection? Is not every dream, even the most +confused, a peculiar vision, which, though we do not call it sent from +Heaven, yet makes an important rent in the mysterious curtain, which, +with a thousand folds, hides our inward natures from our view? We can +find accounts of many such dreams, coming from credible men, in the +wisest books; and you need only call to mind, to support what I have +said, the dream which our good pastor lately related to us, and which +appeared to you so remarkable. But, without taking those writings into +account, if now for the first time you should have a dream, how would +it overwhelm you, and how constantly would your thoughts be fixed upon +the miracle, which, from its very frequency, now appears such a simple +occurrence. Dreams appear to me to break up the monotony and even tenor +of life, to serve as a recreation to the chained fancy. They mingle +together all the scenes and fancies of life, and change the continual +earnestness of age, into the merry sports of childhood. Were it not for +dreams, we should certainly grow older; and though they be not given us +immediately from above; yet they should be regarded as Heavenly gifts, +as friendly guides, in our pilgrimage to the holy tomb. I am sure that +the dream, which I have had this night, has been no profitless +occurrence in my life; for I feel that it has, like some vast wheel, +caught hold of my soul, and is hurrying me along with it in its mighty +revolutions." + +Henry's father smiled humorously, and said, looking to his wife, who +had just come in, "Henry cannot deny the hour of his birth. His +conversation boils with the fiery Italian wines, which I brought with +me from Rome, and with which we celebrated our wedding eve. I was +another sort of man then. The southern breezes had thawed out my +northern phlegm. I was overflowing with spirit and humor, and you also +were an ardent, charming girl. Everything was arranged at your father's +in grand style; musicians and minstrels were collected from far and +wide, and Augsburg had never seen a merrier marriage." + +"You were just now speaking of dreams," said Henry's mother. "Do you +not remember, that you then told me of one, which you had had at Rome, +and which first put it into your head to come to Augsburg as my +suitor?" + +"You put me opportunely in mind of it," said the old man, "for I had +entirely forgotten that singular dream, which, at the time of its +occurrence, occupied my thoughts not a little; but even that is only a +proof of what I have been saying about dreams. It would be impossible +to have one more clear and regular. Even now I remember every +circumstance in it, and yet, what did it signify? That I dreamed of +you, and soon after felt an irrepressible desire to possess you, was +not strange; for I already knew you. The agreeable and amiable traits +of your character strongly affected me, when I first saw you; and I was +prevented from making love to you, only by the desire of visiting +foreign lands. At the time of the dream my curiosity was much abated; +and hence my love for you more easily mastered me." + +"Please to tell us about that curious dream," said Henry. + +"One evening," said his father, "I had been loitering about, enjoying +the beauty of the clear, blue sky, and of the moon, which clothed the +old pillars and walls with its pale, awe-inspiring light. My companions +had gone to see the girls, and love and homesickness drove me into the +open air. During my walk, I felt thirsty, and went into the first +decent looking mansion I met with, to ask for a glass of wine, or milk. +An old man came to the door, who perhaps at first regarded me as a +suspicious visitor; but when I told him what I wished, and he learned +that I was a foreigner, and a German, he kindly asked me into the +house, bade me sit down, brought out a bottle of wine, and asked me +some questions about my business. We began a desultory conversation, +during which he gave me some information about painters, poets, +sculptors, and ancient times. I had scarce ever heard about such +matters; and it seemed as if I had landed in a new world. He showed me +some old seals and other works of art, and then read to me, with all +the fire of youth, some beautiful passages of poetry. Thus the hours +fled as moments. Even now my heart warms with the recollection of the +wonderful thoughts and emotions, which crowded upon me that evening. He +seemed quite at home in the pagan ages, and longed, with incredible +ardor, to dwell in the times of grey antiquity. At last he showed me a +chamber, where I could pass the night, for it was too late for me to +return to the city. I soon fell asleep and dreamed.--I thought that I +was passing out of the gates of my native city. It seemed to me that I +was going to get something done, but where, and what, I did not know. I +took the road to Hartz, and walked quickly along, as merry as if going +to a festival. I did not keep the road, but cut across through wood and +valley, till I came to a lofty mountain. From its top I gazed on the +golden fields around me, beheld Thuringia in the distance, and was so +situated, that no other mountain could obstruct my view. Opposite lay +the Hartz with its dusky hills. Castles, convents, and whole districts +were embraced in the prospect. My ideas were all clear and distinct. I +thought of the old man, in whose house I was sleeping; and my visit +seemed like some occurrence of past years. I soon saw an ascending path +leading into the mountain, and I followed it. After some time I came to +a large cave; there sat a very old man in a long garment, before an +iron table, gazing incessantly upon a wondrously beautiful maiden, that +stood before him hewn in marble. His beard had grown through the iron +table, and covered his feet. His features were serious, yet kind, and +put me in mind of a head by one of the old masters, which my host had +shown me in the evening. The cave was filled with glowing light. While +I was looking at the old man, my host tapped me on the shoulder, took +my hand, and led me through many long paths, till we saw a mild light +shining in the distance, like the dawn of day. I hastened to it, and +soon found myself in a green plain; but there was nothing about it to +remind me of Thuringia. Giant trees, with their large, glossy leaves, +spread their shade far and wide. The air was very hot, yet not +oppressive. Around me flowers and fountains were springing from the +earth. Among the former there was one that particularly pleased me, and +to which all the others seemed to do homage." + +"Dear father," eagerly exclaimed Henry, "do tell me its color." + +"I cannot recollect it, though it was so fixed in my mind at the time." + +"Was it not blue?" + +"Perhaps it was," continued the old man, without giving heed to the +peculiar vehemence of his son. "All I recollect is, that my feelings +were so wrought up, that for a time I forgot all about my guide. When +at length I turned towards him, I noticed that he was looking at me +attentively, and that he met me with a pleasant smile. I do not +remember how I came from that place. I was again on the top of the +mountain; my guide stood by my side and said, 'You have seen the wonder +of the world. It lies in your power to become the happiest being in the +world, and, besides that, a celebrated man. Remember well what I tell +you. Come on St. John's day, towards evening, to this place, and when +you have devoutly prayed to God to interpret this vision, the highest +earthly lot will be yours. Also take notice particularly of a little +blue flower, which you will find above here; pluck it, and commit +yourself humbly to heavenly guidance.' I then dreamed that I was among +most splendid scenes and noble men, ravished by the swift changing +objects that met my eyes. How fluent were my words! how free my tongue! +How music swelled its strains! Afterwards everything became dull and +insignificant as usual. I saw your mother standing before me, with a +kind and modest look. A bright-looking child was in her arms. She +reached it to me; it gradually grew brighter; at length it raised +itself on its dazzling white wings, took us both in its arms, and +soared so high with us, that the earth appeared like a plate of gold, +covered with beautifully wrought carving. I only recollect, that, after +this vision, the flower, the old man, and the mountain appeared before +me again. I awoke soon after, much agitated by vehement love. I bade +farewell to my hospitable friend, who urged me to repeat my visit +often. I promised to do so, and should have kept my promise, had I not +shortly after left Rome for Augsburg, my mind being much excited by the +scenes I had witnessed." + + + + + CHAPTER II. + + +St. John's day was past. Henry's mother had for a long time delayed +making a journey to Augsburg, her paternal home, to present her son to +his grandfather, who had never yet seen him. Some merchants, trusty +friends of the elder Ofterdingen, were just about travelling to +Augsburg on business. Henry's mother resolved to improve this good +opportunity of fulfilling her wishes; and this more especially, because +she had observed that Henry had lately been more silent, and more taken +up with his own gloomy fancies than usual. She saw that he was out of +spirits, or sick; and thought that a long journey, the sight of strange +people and places, and, as she secretly anticipated, the charms of some +young country girl would drive off the gloomy mood of her son, and make +him as affable and cheerful as was his wont. Her husband agreed with +her in her plans, and Henry was delighted beyond all bounds with the +idea of visiting a country, which, for a long time, he had looked upon +(owing to the many things he had heard concerning it, from his mother +and from travellers) as an earthly Paradise, and in which he had often +wished himself. + +Henry was just twenty years old. He had never passed the environs of +his native city; the world was known to him only by report; only a few +books had come within his reach. The course of life at the Landgrave +was simple and quiet, according to the customs of the times; and the +splendor and comfort of princely life, in those days, could but poorly +compare with the conveniences, which, in our times, a private man can +obtain for himself and family, without extravagance. Yet by reason of +their very scarcity, a regard, almost approaching tenderness, was felt, +in those times, for household furniture, and the conveniences of life. +They were considered more valuable and curious. The secrets of nature, +and the origin of its bodies, hardly attracted the notice of thinking +minds, more than these scarce specimens of art and workmanship. This +regard, too, for these silent companions of life was much heightened, +by the distance from which they were brought, and by that charm of +antiquity which gathered around furniture, often the property of +successive generations; an heir-loom from father to son. They were +often raised to the rank of pledges of a peculiar blessing and destiny; +and the weal of whole kingdoms and far-scattered families depended upon +their preservation. A poverty, fair in its features, adorned that age +with a simplicity, full of significance and innocence. The treasures, +so sparingly scattered in that dawn, shone the more brightly, and gave +rise to many significant ideas in the thoughtful mind. If it is true +that a proper division of light, color, and shade reveals the hidden +splendor of the visible world, and opens for itself a new eye of a +higher character; such a division and splendor were to be seen then; +while these newer and more prosperous times represent the monotonous +and insignificant picture of a common day. In all transitions, as in an +interregnum, it appears as if a higher spiritual power were revealing +itself; and as, upon the surface of our earth, the countries, richest +both in subterraneous and super-terraneous treasures, lie between +wild, inhospitable, hoary rocks, and immense plains; so also a +deep-reflecting, romantic period made its appearance between the rough +ages of barbarism, and the cultivated, enlightened, and wealthy age, +which under a coarse garb conceals a still more beautiful form. Who +does not love to wander at twilight, when the light of day and the deep +shades of night mingle together in deep coloring? On this principle, we +are glad to carry ourselves, in imagination, back to the years when +Henry lived, who now went to meet the new circumstances, which might +encompass him, with a swelling heart. He took leave of his companions +and his instructer, the old and wise preacher, who knew the fertility +of Henry's genius, and who bade him farewell, with a feeling heart and +a silent prayer. The countess was his grandmother. He had often visited +her at Wartburg. He now separated from his protectress, who gave him +good counsel, and a golden chain, and who took leave of him with +expressions of friendship. It was with a sad heart that Henry left his +father and his birthplace. He now experienced for the first time what +separation was. His imaginings as to the journey had not been +accompanied with that peculiar feeling, which now filled his breast, +when, for the first time, the scenes of his youth were snatched from +his view, and he was cast, as it were, upon a foreign shore. Great +indeed is our youthful sorrow at this first experience of the +instability of earthly things, an experience necessary and +indispensable to the inexperienced mind, firmly connected with and +certain as our own existence. Our first separation remains, like the +first announcement of death, never to be forgotten, and becomes, after +it has long terrified us like a nightly vision, when at last joy at the +appearance of a new day decreases, and the longing after a fixed, safer +world increases, a friendly guide and a consoling and familiar idea. It +comforted the young man much, that his mother was with him. The world +he was leaving did not yet appear entirely lost, and he embraced her +with redoubled fondness. It was early in the day, when the travellers +rode from the gates of Eisenach, and the fresh daybreak was favorable +to Henry's excited mood. The clearer the day grew, the more remarkable +seemed to him the new and unknown scenes which surrounded him; and when +upon a hill, just as the landscape behind him was illuminated by the +rays of the rising sun, there occurred to him in the gloomy change of +his thoughts some of the old melodies he knew by heart. He found +himself in the swell of the distance, towards which he had often gazed +from the neighboring mountains, where he had often wished himself in +vain, and which he had painted to himself with peculiar colors. He was +on the point of dipping himself in its blue flood. The wonderful flower +stood before him, and he looked towards Thuringia, which he now left +behind him, with the strong idea, that he was returning to his +fatherland, after long wanderings from the country, towards which they +now were travelling, and as if in reality he was journeying homewards. + +The company, which at first had been silent from similar causes, began +by degrees to wake up, and to shorten the time by various conversation +and stories. Henry's mother felt it her duty to rouse him from the +dreamings, in which she saw him sunken; and began to tell him of her +father's land, of her father's house, and of the pleasant life in +Swabia. The merchants joined in, and confirmed what his mother said. +They praised the hospitality of the old man Swaning, and could not +sufficiently extol the beauteous fair ones of the country of their +travelling companion. + +"You do well," said they, "in taking your son thither. The customs of +your native country are of the most refined and pleasing character. +They know how to attend to what is useful, without despising the +agreeable. Every one endeavors to satisfy his wants in a social and +charming way. The merchant is well treated and respected. The arts and +mechanics are increased and ennobled; work appears easier to the +industrious man, because it helps him to many pleasures, and because, +as a reward for steady industry, he is sure to enjoy the manifold +fruits of various and profitable employments. Money, industry, and +goods reciprocally produce each other, and float along in busy circles. +The country, as well as the cities, flourishes. The more industriously +the day is employed, the more exclusively is the evening devoted to the +charming pleasures drawn from the fine arts, and to social intercourse. +The mind seeks recreation and change; and where could it find it more +proper or more attractive, than in those unchecked diversions, and in +those productions of its noblest power, the power of embodying its +conceptions into realities. Nowhere can you have such sweet singers, or +find such excellent painters, or see in the dancing halls more graceful +movements or lovelier forms. The neighborhood of Switzerland is +distinguished for the ease of its manners and conversation. Your race +adorns society; and without fear of being talked about, can excite by +their charming behavior a lively emulation to chain the attention. The +stern fortitude and the wild jovialty of the men make room for a mild +vivacity and a tender and modest joy, and love in a thousand forms +becomes the leading spirit of their happy companies. Far is it from the +truth, that dissoluteness or unseemly principles are by this course of +conduct developed. It seems as if the evil spirit shunned the approach +of innocent or graceful amusements, and certainly there are in no part +of Germany more irreproachable maidens, or more faithful wives, than in +Swabia. + +"Yes, my young friend, in the clear, warm air of southern Germany you +will soon lay aside your bashfulness; the youthful maidens will soon +render you easy and talkative. Your name alone, as a stranger and as a +relative of the old Swaning, who is the delight of every pleasant +company, will attract the pleasant gaze of the maidens towards you; and +if you follow the will of your grandfather, you will certainly bring to +our native city, as did your father, an ornament in the form of a +lovely woman." + +Henry's mother thanked them with a modest blush, for their +distinguished praise bestowed on her fatherland, and for their good +opinion of her countrywomen. Henry, full of thought, could not help +listening attentively and with heart-felt pleasure to the description +of the land, which he saw before him. + +"Although you do not take up your father's trade," continued the +merchants, "but rather, as we have been told, spend your time in the +pursuit of knowledge, yet you need not become one of the clergy, or +renounce the pleasantest enjoyments of this life. It is bad enough that +all learning is in the hands of an order, so separated from worldly +life, and that the rulers are counselled by such unsociable and really +inexperienced men. In solitude, where they have no share in worldly +affairs, their thoughts must take a useless turn, and cannot be applied +to everyday concerns. In Swabia you can find both wise and experienced +men among the laity, and you need only choose what branch of human +knowledge you prefer; for you cannot want there good teachers and +advisers." + +After a while Henry, whose thoughts had been led by this conversation +to the old court-preacher, said; "Although ignorant as I am of the real +condition of the world, I do not exactly rebel against your opinion, as +to the ability of the clergy to guide and judge of worldly affairs; +yet I hope I may be permitted to put you in mind of our excellent +court-preacher, who certainly is a pattern of a wise man, and whose +instructions and counsels I can never forget." + +"We revere with our whole hearts," replied the merchants, "that +excellent man; but we can agree with your opinion, only so far as you +speak of that wisdom, which concerns a life well pleasing to God. If +you consider him as wise in worldly affairs, as he is experienced and +learned in spiritual concerns, permit us to disagree with you. Yet we +do not believe that the holy man deserves any less praise, because by +the depth of his knowledge of the spiritual world, he is unable to gain +insight into and an understanding of earthly things." + +"But," said Henry, "is it not possible that that higher knowledge would +fit you to guide impartially the reins of human affairs? May it not be +possible that childlike and natural simplicity more safely travels the +road through the labyrinth of human affairs, than that wild, wandering, +and partially restrained wisdom, which considers its own interest, and +which is blinded by the unspeakable variety and perplexity of present +occurrences? I do not know, but it seems to me, that there are two +ways, by which to arrive at a knowledge of the history of man; the one +laborious and boundless, the way of experience; the other apparently +but one leap, the way of internal reflection. The wanderer of the first +must find out one thing from another by wearisome reckoning; the +wanderer of the second perceives the nature of everything and +occurrence directly by their very essence, views all things in their +continually varying connexions, and can easily compare one with +another, like figures on a slate. You will pardon me, that I address +you, as it were, from my childish dreams; nothing could have emboldened +me to speak but my confidence in your kindness, and the remembrance of +my teacher, who for a long time has pointed the second way out to me as +his own." + +"We willingly grant you," said the kind merchants, "that we are not +able to follow your train of thought; yet it pleases us that you so +warmly remember your excellent teacher, and treasure up so well his +lessons. It seems to us that you have a talent for poetry, you speak +your fancies out so fluently, and you are so full of choice expressions +and apt comparisons. You are also inclined to the wonderful,--the +poet's element." + +"I do not know whence it comes," said Henry; "I have heard poets spoken +of before now; but have never yet seen one. I cannot even form an idea +of their curious art; but yet have a great desire to hear about it. I +feel that I wish to know many things, of which dark hints only are in +my mind. I have often heard people speak of poems, but I have never yet +seen one, and my teacher never had occasion to learn the art. Nor have +I been able to comprehend everything that he has told me concerning it. +Yet he always considered it a noble art, to which I would devote myself +entirely, if I should become acquainted with it. In old times it was +much more common than now, and every one had some knowledge of it, +though in different degrees; moreover it was the sister of other arts +now lost. He thought that divine favor had highly honored the +minstrels, so that inspired by spiritual intercourse, they had been +able to proclaim heavenly wisdom upon earth in entrancing tones." + +The merchants then said; "We have in truth not troubled ourselves much +with the secrets of the poets, though we have often listened with +pleasure to their songs. Perhaps it is true that no man is a poet, +unless he is born under a particular star, for there is something +curious in this respect about this art. The other arts are very +different from it, and much easier to comprehend. The secrets of +painters and musicians can much more easily be imagined; and both can +be learned with industry and patience. The sound lies already in the +strings, and ability is all that is wanting, in order to move them, and +stir up each into a delightful harmony. In painting, nature is the best +instructress. She brings forth numberless beautiful and wonderful +forms, gives to them color, light, and shade; and a practised hand, an +exact eye, and a knowledge of the preparation and mixing of colors can +imitate nature to the life. How natural for us then to comprehend the +effect of these arts, and the pleasure derived from their productions. +The song of the nightingale, the whistling of the wind, and the +splendors of light, color, and form please us, because they strike our +senses agreeably; and as our senses are fitted for this by nature, +which also has the same effect, so must the artful imitation of nature +please us also. Nature herself will also draw enjoyment from the power +of art, and thence has she changed into man, and thus she now rejoices +herself over her noble splendors, separates what is agreeable and +lovely, and brings it forth by itself in such a way, that she can +possess and enjoy it in all ways and at all times and places. In the +art of poetry, on the contrary, there is nothing tangible to be met +with. It creates nothing with tools and hands. The eye and the ear +perceive it not; for the mere hearing of the words has no real +influence in this secret art. It is all internal; and as other artists +fill the external senses with agreeable emotions, so in like manner the +poet fills the internal sanctuary of the mind with new, wonderful, and +pleasing thoughts. He knows how to awaken at pleasure the secret powers +within us, and by words gives us force to see into an unknown and +glorious world. Ancient and future times, innumerable men, strange +countries, and the most singular events rise up within us, as from deep +hiding places, and tear us away from the known present. We hear strange +words and know not their import. The language of the poet stirs, up a +magic power; even ordinary words flow forth in charming melody, and +intoxicate the fast-bound listener." + +"You change every curiosity into ardent impatience," said Henry. "I +cannot hear enough of these strange men. It seems to me all at once, as +if I had heard them spoken of somewhere in my earliest youth; but I can +remember nothing more about it. But what you have said to me is very +clear and easy to comprehend, and you give me great pleasure by your +beautiful descriptions." + +"It is with pleasure," continued the merchants, "that we have looked +back upon the many pleasant hours we have spent in Italy, France, and +Swabia in the society of minstrels, and we are glad that you take so +lively an interest in our discourse about them. In travelling through +so many mountains, there is a double delight in conversation, and the +time passes pleasantly away. Perhaps you would be pleased to hear some +of the pretty tales concerning poets, that we have learned in our +travels. Of the poems themselves, which we have heard, we can say but +little, both because the pleasure and charm of the moment prevent the +memory from retaining much; and because our constant occupations in +business destroy many such recollections. + +"In olden times, all nature must have been more animate and spiritual +than now. Operations, which now animals scarcely seem to notice, and +which men alone in reality feel and enjoy, then put animate bodies into +motion; and it was thus possible for men of art to perform wonders and +produce appearances, which now seem wholly incredible and fabulous. +Thus it is said that there were poets in very ancient times, in the +regions of the present Greek empire, (as travellers, who have +discovered these things by traditions among the common people there, +have informed us,) who by the wonderful music of their instruments +stirred up a secret life in the woods, those spirits hidden in their +trunks; who gave life to the dead seeds of plants in waste and desert +regions, and called blooming gardens into existence; who tamed savage +beasts, and accustomed wild men to order and civilization; who brought +forth the tender affections, and the arts of peace, changed raging +floods into mild waters, and even tore away the rocks in dancing +movements. They are said to have been at the same time soothsayers and +priests, legislators and physicians, whilst even the spirits above were +drawn down by their bewitching song, and revealed to them the mysteries +of futurity, the balance and natural arrangement of all things, the +inner virtues and healing powers of numbers, of plants, and of all +creatures. Then first appeared the varied melody, the peculiar harmony +and order, which breathe through all nature; while before all was in +confusion, wild and hostile. And here one thing is to be noticed; that +although these beautiful traces for the recollection of these men +remain, yet has their art, or their delicate sensibility to the +beauties of nature been lost. Among other occurrences, it once happened +that one of this peculiar class of poets or musicians,--although music +and poetry may be considered as pretty much the same thing, like mouth +and ear, of which the first is only a movable and answering ear,--that +once this poet wished to cross the sea to a foreign land. He had with +him many jewels and costly articles, which he had received as tributes +of gratitude. He found a ship ready to sail, and easily agreed upon a +price for his passage. But the splendor and beauty of his treasures so +excited the avarice of the sailors, that they resolved among themselves +to take him, throw him overboard, and afterwards to divide his goods +with each other. Accordingly, when they were far from land, they fell +upon him, and told him that he must die, because they had resolved to +cast him into the sea. He begged them to spare his life in the most +touching terms, offered them his treasures as a ransom, and prophesied +that great misfortunes would overtake them, should they take his life. +But they were not to be moved, being fearful lest he should sometime +reveal their wickedness. When he saw at last that their resolution was +taken, he prayed them that at least they would suffer him to play his +swan song, after which he would willingly plunge into the sea, with his +poor, wooden instrument, before their eyes. They knew very well that, +should they once hear his magic song, their hearts would be softened +and overwhelmed with repentance; therefore they granted his last +request indeed, but stopped their ears, that not hearing his song, they +might abide by their resolution. Thus it happened. The minstrel began a +beautiful song, pathetic beyond conception. The whole ship accorded, +the waters resounded, the sun and the stars appeared at once in the +sky, and the inhabitants of the deep issued from the green flood about +them, in dancing hosts. The people of the ship stood alone by +themselves, with hostile intent waiting impatiently for the end of his +song. It was soon finished. Then the minstrel plunged with serene brow +down the dark abyss, carrying with him his wonder-working instrument. +Scarcely had he touched the glittering wave, when a monster of the deep +rose up beneath him, and quickly bore the astonished minstrel away. It +swam directly to the shore whither he had been journeying, and landed +him gently among the rushes. The poet sang a song of gratitude to his +saviour, and joyfully went his way. Sometime after the occurrence of +these events, he again visited the seashore, and lamented in sweetest +tones his lost treasures, which had been dear to him as remembrances of +happier hours, and as tokens of love and gratitude. While he was thus +singing, his old friend came swimming joyfully through the waves, and +rolled from his back upon the sand the long-lost treasures. The +boatmen, after the minstrel had leaped into the sea, began immediately +to divide the spoil. During the division a murderous quarrel arose +between them, which cost many of them their lives. The few that +remained were not able to navigate the vessel; it struck the shore and +foundered. They with difficulty saved their lives, and reached the +beach with torn garments and empty hands. Thus by the aid of the +grateful sea-monster, who had gathered them up from the bottom of the +sea, the treasures came into the hands of their original possessor." +[See Note I. at the end.] + + + + + CHAPTER III. + + +There is another story, continued the merchants after a pause, +certainly less wonderful and taken from later times, which yet may +please you and give you a clearer insight into the operations of that +wonderful art. There was once an old king, whose court was the most +splendid of his age. People streamed thither from far and near, in +order to share in the splendor of his mode of life. There was not +wanting the greatest abundance of costly delicacies at his daily +entertainments. There was music, splendid decorations, a thousand +different dramatic representations, with other amusements to pass away +the time. Nor did intellect fail to be represented there in the persons +of sage, pleasant, and learned men, who added to the entertainment and +inspiration of the conversation. Finally, there were added many chaste +and beautiful youth of both sexes, who constituted the real soul of the +charming festivals. The old king, otherwise a strict and stern man, +entertained two inclinations, which were the true causes of the +splendor of his court, and to which it owed its thanks for its +beautiful arrangement. The first of these inclinations was his love for +his daughter, who was infinitely dear to him, as a pledge of the love +of his wife, who had died in her youth, and to whom, for her marvellous +loveliness, he would have sacrificed all the treasures of nature, and +all the powers of human minds, in order to create for her a heaven upon +earth. The other was a real passion for poesy and her masters. He had +from his youth read the works of the poets with heart-felt delight, and +had spent much labor and great sums of money in the collection of the +poetical works of every tongue, and the society of minstrels was +especially dear to him. He invited them from all quarters to his court, +and loaded them with honors. He never grew wearied with their songs, +and for the sake of some new and splendid production often forgot the +most important business affairs, and even the necessaries of life. +Amidst such strains had his daughter grown up, and her soul became, as +it were, a tender song, the artless expression of longing and of +sadness. The beneficent influence, which the protected and honored +poets exerted, showed itself through the whole land, but particularly +at the court. Life, like some precious potion, was enjoyed in lingering +and gentle draughts, and in its purer pleasures; because all low and +hateful passions were shunned, as jarring discords to the harmony which +ruled all minds. Peace of soul, and beautiful contemplations of a +self-created happy world, had become the possession of this wonderful +time, and dissension appeared only in the old legends of the poets, as +a former enemy of man. It seemed as if the spirits of song could have +given no lovelier token of their gratitude to their protector, than his +daughter, who possessed all that the sweetest imagination could unite +in the tender form of a fair maiden. When you beheld her at the +beautiful festivals, amid a band of charming companions in glittering +white dress, intensely listening to the rival songs of the inspired +minstrels, and with blushes placing the fragrant garland around the +locks of the happy one, who had won the prize, you would have taken her +for the beautiful and embodied spirit of this art, conspiring with its +magic language; and you would cease to wonder at the ecstasies and +melodies of the poets. + +Yet a mysterious fate seemed to be at work in the midst of this earthly +paradise; The sole concern of the people of that country was about the +marriage of the blooming princess, upon which the continuation of their +blissful times, and the fate of the whole land, depended. The king was +growing old. This care lay heavy at his heart; and yet no opening for +marriage showed itself, that was agreeable to the wishes of all. A holy +reverence for the royal family forbade any subject to harbor the idea +of proposing for the hand of the princess. She was hardly regarded as a +creature of this earth, and all the princes, who had appeared at court +with proposals, seemed so inferior to her, that no one thought that the +princess or the king could fix their eye on any one of them. A sense of +inferiority had by degrees deterred any suitors from visiting the +court, and the wide-spread report of the excessive pride of the royal +family seemed to take away from all others the desire to see themselves +equally humbled. Nor was this report entirely without foundation. The +king, with all his mildness of disposition, had almost unconsciously +imbibed a feeling of lofty superiority, which rendered every thought of +a connexion of his daughter with a man of lower rank and obscurer +origin unendurable and impossible to be entertained. Her high and +unparalleled worth had heightened this feeling within him. He was +descended from a very old royal family of the East. His consort had +been the last of the descendants of the renowned hero Rustan. His +minstrels continually sang to him of his relationship to those +superhuman beings, who formerly ruled the world. In the magic mirror of +their art the difference between the origin of his family and that of +other men, and the splendor of his descent, appeared yet clearer, so +that it seemed to him that he was connected with the rest of the human +family through the nobler class of the poets alone. He looked around in +vain for a second Rustan, whilst he felt that the heart of his blooming +daughter, the situation of his kingdom, and his increasing age rendered +her marriage, in all points of view, most desirable. Not far from the +capital, there lived, upon a retired country-seat, an old man, who +occupied himself exclusively with the education of his only son, except +that he occasionally assisted the country people by his advice in cases +of dangerous sickness. The young man was of a serious disposition, and +devoted himself exclusively to the study of nature, in which his father +had instructed him from childhood. The old man many years before had +arrived from a distance at this peaceful and blooming region, and was +content while enjoying the beneficent peace, which the king had spread +abroad through this retreat. He took advantage of this peace to search +into the powers of nature, and impart the pleasing knowledge to his son, +who gave evidence of much talent for the pursuit, and to whose +penetrating mind nature willingly confided her secrets. Without a lofty +power of understanding, the secret expression of his noble face, and +the peculiar brilliancy of his eyes, you would have called the +appearance of this youth ordinary and insignificant. But the longer you +gazed upon him, the more attractive he became; and you could scarcely +tear yourself from him, when you had once beard his soft impressive +voice, and the utterances which his glorious talents prompted. One day, +the princess, whose pleasure-garden adjoined the forest, which +concealed the country house of the old man in a little valley, had +betaken herself thither alone on horseback, that she might follow out +her fancies undisturbed, and sing to herself her favorite songs. The +fresh air of the lofty trees enticed her gradually deeper into their +shade, until at last she came to the house where the old man lived with +his son. Happening to feel thirsty, she alighted, fastened the horse to +a tree, and stepped into the house, to ask for a glass of milk. The son +was present, and was well nigh confounded by the enchanting appearance +of a majestic female form, which seemed almost immortal, adorned as it +was by all the charms of youth and beauty, and by that indescribable +fascinating transparency, revealing the tender, innocent, and noble +soul. While he hastened to gratify her desire, the old man addressed +her with modest respect, and invited her to be seated at their simple +hearth, which was placed in the middle of the house, and on which there +glimmered noiselessly a light blue flame. Immediately on entering, the +princess was struck with the varied ornaments of the room, the order +and cleanliness of the whole, and the peculiar sanctity of the place; +and her impression was heightened yet more by the venerable appearance +of the old man, poorly clad as he was, and by the modest behavior of +the son. The former recognised her immediately as a lady of the court, +judging this from her costly dress and noble carriage. While the son +was absent, the princess asked him about some curiosities which had +caught her eye, and especially concerning some old and singular +pictures, which stood at her side over the hearth, and which he kindly +undertook to explain to her. The son soon returned with a pitcher of +fresh milk, which he artlessly and respectfully handed her. After some +interesting conversation with the hosts, she gracefully thanked them +for their hospitality, and with blushes asked the old man's permission +to visit his house again, that she might enjoy his instructive +conversation concerning his wonderful curiosities. She then rode back +without having divulged her rank, as she noticed that neither the +father nor the son knew her. Although the capital was situated thus +near, they were both so buried in their studies, that they strove to +shun the busy world; and the young man had never been seized with the +desire of being present at the festivities of the court. He had never +been accustomed to leave his father alone for more than an hour at the +utmost, while roaming through the woods searching for insects and +plants, and sharing the inspiration of the mute spirit of nature +through the influence of its various outward charms. The simple +occurrences of this day were equally important to the old man, the +princess, and the youth. The first easily perceived the novel and deep +impression, which the unknown lady had made upon his son. He knew his +character perfectly, and was fully aware that such a deep impression +would last as long as his life. His youth, and the nature of his heart, +would of necessity render the first feeling of this nature an +unconquerable passion. The old man had for a long time looked forward +to such an occurrence. The exceeding loveliness of the stranger excited +an involuntary sympathy in the soul of his son, and his unsuspicious +mind harbored no troublesome anxiety about the issue of this singular +adventure. The princess had never been conscious of experiencing such +emotions as arose in her mind, while riding slowly homeward. She could +form no exact idea of the curiously mixed, wondrously stirring feelings +of a new existence. A magical veil was spread in wide folds over her +clear consciousness. It seemed to her that, when it should be +withdrawn, she would find herself in a more spiritual world than this. +The recollection of the art of poetry, which hitherto had occupied her +whole soul, seemed now like a far distant song, connecting her +peculiarly delightful dream with the past. When she reached the palace, +she was almost frightened at its varied splendor, and yet more at the +welcome of her father, for whom for the first time in her life she +experienced a distant respect. She thought it impossible for her to +mention her adventure to him. Her other companions were too much +accustomed to her reveries, and her deep abstractions of thought and +fancy, to notice anything extraordinary in her conduct. She seemed now +to lose some of her affable sweetness of disposition. She felt as if +she were among strangers, and a peculiar anxiety harassed her until +evening, when the joyful song of some minstrel, who chanted the praises +of hope, and sang with magic inspiration of the wonders which follow +faith in the fulfilment of our wishes, filled her with consolation, and +lulled her with the sweetest dreams. + +As soon as the princess had taken leave, the youth plunged into the +forest. He had followed her among the bushes as far as the garden gate, +and then sought to return by the road. As he was walking along, he saw +some bright object shining before his feet. He stooped and picked up a +dark red stone, one side of which was wonderfully brilliant, and the +other was graved with ciphers. He knew it to be a costly carbuncle, and +thought that he had observed it in the middle of the necklace which the +unknown lady wore. He hastened with winged footsteps home, as if she +were yet there, and brought the stone to his father. They decided that +the son should return next morning to the road, and see whether any one +was sent to look for it; if not, they would keep it till they received +a second visit from the lady, and then return it to her. The young man +passed much of the night gazing at the carbuncle, and felt towards +morning irresistibly inclined to write a few words upon the paper in +which he wrapt it. He hardly knew himself the meaning of the words +which he wrote: + + A mystic token deeply graved is beaming + Within the glowing crimson of the stone, + Like to a heart, that, lost in pleasant dreaming, + Keepeth the image of the fair unknown. + A thousand sparks around the gem are streaming, + A softened radiance in the heart is thrown; + From that, the light's indwelling essence darts. + But ah, will this too have the heart of hearts? + +As soon as the morning dawned, he took his way in haste to the garden +gate. + +In the mean while the princess in undressing on the previous evening, +had missed the jewel from her necklace. It was a memento from her +mother, and moreover a talisman, the possession of which insured to her +the liberty of her person, since with it she could never fall into +another's power against her will. + +This loss surprised more than it frightened her. She remembered that +she had it the day before when riding, and was quite certain that it +was lost, either in the house of the old man, or on the way back +through the woods. She still remembered the exact road she had taken, +and concluded to go in search of it as soon as the day should break. +This idea caused her so much joy, that it seemed as if she was not at +all sorry for her loss, in the good pretence it gave to take the same +road once more. At daybreak she passed through the garden to the +forest; as she walked with unwonted speed, it was natural that her +bosom should feel oppressed, and her heart beat faster than usual. The +sun was beginning to gild the tops of the old trees, which moved with a +gentle whispering, as if they would waken each other from their drowsy +night-faces, in order to greet the sun together; when the princess, +startled by a rustling at some distance, looked down the road, and saw +the young man hastening towards her. He at the same time observed her. + +He remained a while standing as if enchained, and gazed fixedly upon +her, as if to assure himself that her appearance was real and no +illusion. They greeted each other with subdued expressions of joy at +their meeting, as if they had long known and loved each other. Before +the princess could explain to him the reason of her early walk, he +handed her with blushes and a beating heart the stone in the inscribed +billet. It seemed as if the princess anticipated the meaning of the +lines. She took the billet silently and with a trembling hand, and +almost unconsciously hung a golden chain, which she wore about her +neck, upon him, as a reward for his fortunate discovery. He knelt +abashed before her, and could hardly find words to answer her inquiries +about his father. She told him in a half whisper, and with downcast +eyes, that she would with pleasure soon visit them again, and take +advantage of his father's promise to make her acquainted with his +curiosities. + +She thanked the young man again with unusual feeling, and returned +slowly on her way without once looking back. The youth was speechless. +He bowed respectfully and gazed after her for a long time, until she +vanished behind the trees. In a few days she visited them again, and +after this her visits became frequent. The youth by degrees became the +companion of her walks. He accompanied her from the garden at an +appointed hour, and escorted her back again. She observed a strict +silence with respect to her rank, confiding as she otherwise was to her +attendant, from whom no thought of her heavenly soul was ever hidden. +The loftiness of her descent seemed to pour a secret fear into her. The +young man gave up to her likewise his whole soul. Both father and son +considered her a maiden of quality from the court. She clung to the old +man with the tenderness of a daughter. Her caresses lavished upon him +were the rapturous prophets of her tenderness towards his son. She was +soon perfectly at home in the wonderful house; and while she sang to +her lute her charming song with an unearthly voice, the old man and the +son sitting at her feet, the latter of whom she instructed in the +divine art; she learned on the other hand from his inspired lips the +solution of those riddles, which everywhere abound in the secrets of +nature. He taught her how by a mysterious sympathy the world had +arisen, and the stars been united in their harmonious order. The +history of the past became clear to her mind from his holy fables; and +how delightful it became, when in the height of his inspiration her +scholar seized the lute, and broke out with incredible skill into the +most admirable songs. One day, when seized by a peculiar romance of +feeling, she was in his company, and her powerful, long-cherished love +overcame at returning her customary, maiden timidity; they both almost +unconsciously sank into each other's arms, and the first glowing kiss +melted them into one forever. As the sun was setting, the roaring of +the trees gave notice of a mighty tempest. Threatening thunder-clouds +with their deep, night-like darkness gathered over them. The young man +hastened to carry his charge in safety from the fearful hurricane and +the crashing branches. But through the darkness and his fear for his +beloved, he missed the road, and plunged deeper and deeper into the +forest. His fear increased when he perceived his mistake. The princess +thought of the terror of the king and of the court. An unutterable +anxiety pierced at times like a consuming ray into her soul; and the +voice of her lover, who continually spoke consolation to her heart, +alone restored courage and confidence, and eased her oppressed bosom. + +The storm raged on; all endeavors to find the road were in vain, and +they both thought themselves fortunate, when, by a flash of lightning, +they discovered a cave near at hand on the declivity of a woody hill, +where they hoped to find a safe refuge from the dangers of the tempest, +and a resting place from their fatigue. Fortune realized their wishes. +The cave was dry and overgrown with clean moss. The young man quickly +lighted a fire of brushwood and moss, by which they could dry their +garments; and the two lovers saw themselves thus strangely separated +from the world, saved from a dangerous situation, and alone at each +other's side in a warm and comfortable shelter. + +A wild almond branch, loaded with fruit, hung down into the cave; and a +neighboring stream of trickling water quenched their thirst. The youth +had preserved his lute; and now they were entertained by its consoling +and cheering music, as they sat by the crackling fire. A higher power +seemed to have taken upon itself to loosen the knot more quickly, and +to have brought them under peculiar circumstances into this romantic +situation. The innocence of their hearts, the magic harmony of their +minds, the united, irresistible power of their sweet passion, and their +youth, soon made them forget the world and their relations to it, and +lulled them, under the bridal song of the tempest and the nuptial +torches of the lightning, into the sweetest intoxication, by which a +mortal couple ever has been blessed. The break of the light blue +morning was to them the awakening of a new, blissful world. +Nevertheless a stream of hot tears, which soon gushed forth from the +eyes of the princess, revealed to her lover the thousand-fold +anxieties, which were awakening in her heart. In one night he had grown +old in years, and had passed from youth to manhood. With an inspiring +enthusiasm, he consoled his mistress, reminded her of the holiness of +true love, and of the high faith which it inspired, and prayed her to +look forward with confidence from the good spirit of her heart to the +brightest future. The princess felt that his consolation was founded on +truth, revealed to him that she was the daughter of the king, and that +she feared only on account of the pride and anxiety of her father. +After mature consideration, they concluded what course to pursue, and +the young man immediately started to seek his father, and to make him +acquainted with their plan. He promised to be with her again soon, and +left her lost in sweet imaginings of what would be the issue of these +occurrences. The youth soon reached the dwelling of his father, who was +right glad to see his son return to him in safety. He listened to the +story and the plans of the lovers, and seemed willing to assist them. +His house was retired, and contained some subterraneous chambers, which +could not easily be discovered. Here the princess was to dwell. She was +brought thither at twilight, and received by the old man with deep +emotion. She afterwards often wept in her solitude, when her thoughts +reverted to her mourning father; yet she concealed her grief from her +lover, and told it only to the old man, who consoled her kindly, and +painted to her imagination her early return to her father. + +In the mean time the court had fallen into the greatest alarm, when, at +evening, the princess was missing. The king was entirely beside +himself, and sent people in every direction to seek her. No man could +explain her absence. No one mistrusted that she was entangled in a love +affair, and therefore an elopement was not thought of. Moreover no +other person of the court was missing, nor was there any cause for the +remotest suspicion. The messengers returned without having accomplished +anything, and the king sank into the deepest dejection. It was only at +evening, when his minstrels came before him, bringing with them their +beautiful songs, that his former pleasure appeared renewed to him; his +daughter seemed near him, and he conceived the hope that he should soon +behold her again. But when he was again alone, his heart seemed like to +break, and he wept aloud. Then he thought within himself; "of what +advantage to me now is all this splendor and my high birth? Without +her, even these songs are mere words and delusions. She was the charm +that gave them life and joy, power and form. Would rather that I were +the lowest of my subjects. Then my daughter would still be with me; +perhaps also I should have a son-in-law, and my grandson would sit upon +my knees; then indeed I should be another king than I am now. It is not +the crown or the kingdom that makes the king; it is the full, +overflowing feeling of happiness, the satiety of earthly possessions, +the consciousness of perfect satisfaction and content. In this way am I +now punished for my pride. The loss of my wife did not sufficiently +humble me; but now my misery is boundless." Thus complained the king in +his hours of ardent longing. Yet at times his old austerity and pride +broke forth. He was angry with his own complaints; he would endure and +be silent as becomes a king. He thought even then that he suffered more +than all others, and that royalty was burdened with heavy care; but +when it became darker, and stepping into the chamber of his daughter he +beheld her clothes hanging there, and her little effects scattered +around, as if she had but a moment before left the chamber; then he +forgot his resolutions, exhibited all the gestures of sorrow, and +called upon his lowest servant for sympathy. All the city and country +wept and condoled with him, with their whole hearts. It is worthy of +remark, that it was noised abroad that the princess yet lived, and +would soon return with a husband. No one knew whence this report arose; +but every one clung to it with joyous belief, and awaited her return +with impatient expectation. Thus several months passed on, until spring +again drew nigh. "What will you wager," said some of sanguine +disposition, "that the princess will not return also?" Even the king +grew more serene and hopeful. The report seemed to him like a promise +from some kind power. The accustomed festivals were again renewed, and +nought seemed wanting but the princess to fill up the bloom of their +former splendor. One evening, exactly a year from the time when she +disappeared, the whole court was assembled in the garden. The air was +warm and serene; and no sound was heard but that of the gentle wind in +the tops of the old trees, announcing, as it were, the approach of some +far off joy. A mighty fountain, arising amid the torches, which with +their innumerable lights relieved the duskiness of the sighing +tree-tops, accompanied the varied songs with melodious murmurs sounding +through the forest. The king sat upon a costly carpet, and the court in +festal dress was gathered around him. The multitude filled the garden, +and encircled the splendid scene. The king at this moment was sitting +plunged in profound thought. The image of his lost daughter appeared +before him with unwonted clearness. He thought of the happy days, which +ended with the last year about that time. A burning desire overpowered +him, and the tears flowed fast down his venerable cheeks; yet he +experienced a hope, as clear as it was unusual. It seemed as if the +past year of sorrow were but a heavy dream, and he raised his eyes as +if seeking her lofty, holy, captivating form amidst the people and the +trees. The minstrel had just ended, and deep silence gave evidence of +deep emotion; for the poets had sung of the joys of meeting, of spring, +and of the future, as hope is accustomed to adorn them. + +The silence was suddenly interrupted by the low sound of an unknown but +beautiful voice, which seemed to proceed from an aged oak. All looks +were directed towards it, and a young man in simple, but peculiar +dress, was seen standing with a lute upon his arm. He continued his +song, yet saluted the king, as he turned his eyes towards him, with a +profound, bow. His voice was remarkably fine, and the song of a nature +strange and wonderful. He sang the origin of the world, the stars, +plants, animals, and men, the all-powerful sympathy of nature; the +remote age of gold, and its rulers Love and Poesy; the appearance of +hatred and barbarism, and their battles with these beneficient +goddesses; and finally, the future triumph of the latter, the end of +affliction, the renovation of nature, and the return of an eternal +golden age. Even, the old minstrels, wrapped in ecstasy, drew nearer to +the singular stranger. A charm, they had never before felt, seized all +listeners, and the king was carried away in feeling, as upon a tide +from Heaven. Such music had never before been heard. All thought that a +heavenly being had appeared among them; and especially so, because the +young man appeared, during his song, continually to grow more beautiful +and resplendent, and his voice more powerful. The gentle wind played +with his golden locks. The lute in his hands seemed inspired, and +it was as if his intoxicated gaze pierced into a secret world. The +child-like innocence and simplicity of his face appeared to all +transcendant. Now the glorious strain was finished. The elder poets +pressed the young man to their bosoms with tears of joy. A silent +inward exultation shot through the whole assembly. The king, filled +with emotion, approached him. The young man threw himself reverently at +his feet. The king raised him up, embraced him, and bade him ask for +any gift. Then, with glowing cheeks he prayed the king to listen to +another song, and to decide as to his request. The king stepped a few +paces back, and the young stranger began:-- + + Through many a rugged, thorny pass, + With tattered robe, the minstrel wends; + He toils through flood and deep morass, + Yet none a helping hand extends. + Now lone and pathless, overflows + With bitter plaint his wearied heart; + Trembling beneath his lute he goes, + And vanquished by a deeper smart. + + There is to me a mournful lot, + Deserted quite I wander here;-- + Delight and peace to all I brought, + But yet to share them none are near. + To human life, and everything + That mortals have, I lent a bliss; + Yet all, with slender offering + My heart's becoming claim dismiss. + + They calmly let me take my leave, + As spring is seen to wander on; + And none she gladdens, ever grieve + When quite dejected she hath gone. + For fruits they covetously long, + Nor wist she sows them in her seed; + I make a heaven for them in song, + Yet not a prayer enshrines the deed. + + With joy I feel that from above + Weird spirits to these lips are bann'd, + O, that the magic tie of love + Were also knitted to my hand! + But none regard the pilgrim lone, + Who needy came from distant isles; + What heart will pity yet his own, + And quench his grief in winning smiles? + + The lofty grass is waving, where + He sinks with tearful cheeks to rest; + But thither winnowing the air, + Song-spirits seek his aching breast; + Forgetting now thy former pain, + Its burden early cast behind,-- + What thou in huts hast sought in vain, + Within the palace wilt thou find. + + Awaiteth thee a high renown, + The troubled course is ending now; + The myrtle-wreath becomes a crown, + Hands truest place it on thy brow. + A tuneful heart by nature shares + The glory that surrounds a throne; + Up rugged steps the poet fares, + And straight becomes the monarch's son. + +So far he had proceeded in his song, and wonder held the assembly +spell-bound; when, during these stanzas, an old man with a veiled +female of noble stature, carrying in her arms a child of wondrous +beauty, who playfully eyed the assembly, and smilingly outstretched its +little hands after the diadem of the king, made their appearance and +placed themselves behind the minstrel. But the astonishment was +increased, when the king's favorite eagle, which was always about his +person, flew down from the tops of the trees with a golden headband, +which he must have stolen from the king's chamber, and hovered over the +head of the young man, so that the band fastened itself around his +tresses. The stranger was frightened for a moment; the eagle flew to +the side of the king, and left the band behind. The young man now +handed it to the child, who reached after it; and sinking upon one knee +towards the king, continued his song with agitated voice:-- + + From fairy dreams the minstrel flies + Abroad, impatient and elate; + Beneath the lofty trees he hies + Toward the stately palace-gate. + Like polished steel the walls oppose, + But over swiftly climb his strains; + And seized by love's delicious throes, + The monarch's child the singer gains. + + They melt in passionate embrace, + But clang of armor bids them flee; + Within a nightly refuge place + They nurse the new-found ecstasy. + In covert timidly they stay, + Affrighted by the monarch's ire; + And wake with every dawning day + At once to grief and glad desire. + + Hope is the minstrel's soft refrain, + To quell the youthful mother's tears; + When lo, attracted by the strain, + The king within the cave appears. + The daughter holds in mute appeal + The grandson with his golden hair; + Sorrowed and terrified they kneel, + And melts his stern resolve to air. + + And yieldeth too upon the throne + To love and song a Father's breast; + With sweet constraint he changes soon + To ceaseless joy the deep unrest. + With rich requital love returns + The peace it lately would destroy, + And mid atoning kisses burns + And blossoms an Elysian joy. + + Spirit of Song! oh, hither come, + And league with love again to bring + The exiled daughter to her home, + To find a father in the king! + To willing bosom may he press + The mother and her pleading one, + And yielding all to tenderness, + Embrace the minstrel as his son. + +The young man, on uttering these words, which softly swelled through +the dark paths, raised with trembling hand the veil. The princess, her +eyes streaming with tears, fell at the feet of the king, and reached to +him the beauteous child. The minstrel knelt with bowed head at her +side. An anxious silence seemed to hold the breath of every one +suspended. For a few moments the king remained grave and speechless; +then he took the princess to his bosom, pressed her to himself with a +warm embrace, and wept aloud. He also raised the young man, and +embraced him with heart-felt tenderness. Exulting joy flew through the +assembly, which began to crowd eagerly around them. Taking the child, +the king raised it towards Heaven with touching devotion; and then +kindly greeted the old man. Countless tears of joy were shed. The poets +burst forth in song, and the night became a sacred festive eve of +promise to the whole land, where life henceforth was but one delightful +jubilee. No one can tell whither that land has fled. Tradition only +whispers us that mighty floods have snatched Atlantis from our eyes. + + + + + CHAPTER IV. + + +Several days' journey was accomplished without the least interruption. +The road was hard and dry, the weather refreshing and serene, and the +countries, through which they passed, fertile, inhabited, and +continually varied. The fertile Thuringian forest lay behind them. The +merchants, who had often travelled by the same road, were acquainted +with the people, and experienced everywhere the most hospitable +reception. They avoided the retired regions, and such as were infested +with robbers, or took a sufficient escort for their protection, when +obliged to travel through them. Many proprietors of the neighboring +castles were on good terms with the merchants. The latter visited them, +seeking orders for Augsburg. Much friendly hospitality was shown them, +and the old ladies with their daughters pressed around them with hearty +curiosity. Henry's mother immediately won their affection by her +good-natured complaisance and sympathy. They were rejoiced to see a +lady from the capital, who was willing to tell them new fashions, and +who taught them the recipes for many pleasant dishes. The young +Ofterdingen was praised by knights and ladies, on account of his +modesty and artless, mild behavior. The ladies lingered, too, with +pleasure upon his captivating form, which resembled the simple word of +some Unknown, which perhaps one scarcely regards, until, long after he +has gone, it gradually opens its bud, and at length presents a +beautiful flower in all the colored splendor of deeply interwoven +leaves, so that one never forgets it, nor is ever wearied of its +remembrance, but finds in it an exhaustless and ever-present treasure. +We now begin to divine the Unknown more exactly; and our presages take +form, till at once it becomes clear, that he was an inhabitant of a +higher world. The merchants received many orders, and parted from their +hosts with mutual hearty wishes, that they might see each other soon +again. In one of these castles, where they arrived towards evening, the +people were enjoying themselves right jovially. The lord of the castle +was an old soldier, who celebrated and interrupted the leisure of +peace, and the solitude of his situation, with frequent banquets; and +who, besides the tumult of war and the chase, knew no other means of +pastime, except the brimming beaker. + +He received the new guests with brotherly heartiness, in the midst of +his noisy companions. The mother was conducted to the lady of the +castle. The merchants and Henry were obliged to seat themselves at the +merry table, where the beaker passed bravely around. Henry, after much +intreaty, was, in consideration of his youth, excused from pledging +every time; the merchants, on the contrary, did not find it much +against their tastes, and smacked the old Frank-wine with tolerable +gusto. The conversation turned upon the adventures of past years. Henry +listened attentively to what was said. The knights spoke of the holy +land, of the wonders of the sacred tomb, of the adventures of their +enterprise and voyage, of the Saracens in whose power some of them had +been, and of the joyous and wonderful life of field and camp. They +expressed with great animation their indignation, when they learned +that the heavenly birth-place of Christendom was in the power of the +unbelieving heathen. They exalted those great heroes, who had earned +for themselves an immortal crown, by their persevering endeavors +against this lawless people. The lord of the castle showed the rich +sword, which he had taken from their leader with his own hand, after he +had conquered his castle, slain him, and made his wife and children +prisoners, which deeds, by the permission of the emperor, were +represented on his coat of arms. All examined the splendid sword. Henry +took it and felt suddenly inspired with warlike ardor. He kissed it +with fervent devotion. The knight rejoiced at his sympathy with their +feelings. The old man embraced him, and encouraged him to devote his +hand also forever to the deliverance of the holy sepulchre, and to have +affixed to his shoulder the marvel-working cross. He was enraptured, +and seemed hardly able to release the sword. "Think, my son," cried the +old knight, "a new crusade is on the point of departure. The emperor +himself will lead our forces into the land of the morning. Throughout +all Europe the cry of the cross is sounding anew, and everywhere heroic +devotion is excited. Who knows that we may not, a year hence, be +sitting at each other's side in the great and far renowned city of +Jerusalem, as joyful conquerors, and think of home over the wine of our +fatherland? You will see here, at my house, a maiden from the holy +land. Its maidens appear very charming to us of the West; and if you +guide your sword skilfully, beauteous captives shall not be wanting." +The knights sang with a loud voice the Crusade-song, which at that time +was a favorite throughout Europe. + + The grave in heathen hands remaineth; + The grave, wherein the Savior lay, + Their cruel mockery sustaineth, + And is unhallowed every day. + Its sorrow comes in stifled plea,-- + Who saves me from this injury? + + Where bides each valorous adorer? + The zeal of Christendom has gone! + Where is the ancient Faith's restorer? + Who lifts the cross and beckons on? + Who'll free the grave and rend in twain + The haughty foe's insulting chain? + + A holy storm o'er earth and billow + Is rushing through the midnight hour; + To stir the sleeper from his pillow, + It roars round city, camp, and tower, + In wailful cry from battlements,-- + Up, tardy Christian, get thee hence. + + Lo, angels everywhere commanding + With solemn faces, voicelessly,-- + And pilgrims at the gates are standing + With tearful cheeks, appealingly! + They sadly mourn, those holy men, + The fierceness of the Saracen. + + There breaks a red and sullen morrow + O'er Christendom's extended field; + The grief, that springs from love and sorrow, + In every bosom is revealed; + The hearth is left in sudden zeal, + And each one grasps the cross and steel. + + The armèd bands are chafing madly, + To rescue the Redeemer's grave; + Toward the sea they hasten gladly, + The holy ground to reach and save. + And children too obey the spell, + The consecrated mass to swell. + + High waves the cross, its triumph flinging + On scarrèd hosts that rally there, + And Heaven, wide its portal swinging, + Is all revealed in upper air; + For Christ each warrior burns to pour + His blood upon the sacred shore. + + To battle, Christians! God's own legion + Attends you to the promised land, + Nor long before the Paynim region + Will smoke beneath His terror-hand. + We soon shall drench in joyous mood + The sacred grave with heathen blood. + + The Holy Virgin hovers, lying + On angel wings, above the plain. + Where all, by hostile weapon dying, + Upon her bosom wake again. + She bends with cheeks serenely bright + Amid the thunder of the fight. + + Then over to the holy places! + That stifled plea is never dumb! + By prayer and conquest blot the traces, + That mark the guilt of Christendom! + If first the Savior's grave we gain, + No longer lasts the heathen reign. + +Henry's whole soul was in commotion. The tomb rose before him like a +youthful form, pale and stately, upon a massive stone in the midst of a +savage multitude, cruelly maltreated, and gazing with sad countenance +upon a cross, which shone in the background with vivid outlines, and +multiplied itself in the tossing waves of the ocean. + +Just at this time, his mother sent for him to present him to the +knight's lady. The knights were deep in the enjoyments of the banquet, +and in their imaginations as to the impending crusade, and took no +notice of Henry's departure. He found his mother in close conversation +with the old, kindhearted lady of the castle, who welcomed him +pleasantly. The evening was serene, the sun began to decline, and +Henry, who was longing after solitude and was enticed by the golden +distance, which stole through the narrow, deep-arched windows into the +gloomy apartment, easily obtained permission to stroll beyond the +castle. He hastened, his whole soul in a state of excitement, into the +free air. He looked from the height of the old rock down into the woody +valley, through which a little rivulet brawled along, turning several +mills, the noise of which was scarcely audible from the greatness of +the elevation. Then he gazed toward the immeasurable stretch of woods +and mountain-passes, and his restlessness was calmed, the warlike +tumult died away, and there remained behind only a clear, imaginative +longing; He felt the absence of a lute, little as he knew its nature +and effects. The serene spectacle of the glorious evening soothed him +to soft fancies; the blossom of his heart revealed itself momently like +lightning-flashes. He rambled through the wild shrubbery, and clambered +over fragments of rock; when suddenly there arose from a neighboring +valley a tender and impressive song, in a female voice accompanied by +wonderful music. He was sure that it was a lute, and standing full of +admiration he heard the following song in broken German. + + If the weary heart is living + Yet, beneath a foreign sky; + If a pallid Hope is giving + Fitful glimpses to the eye; + Can I still of home be dreaming? + Sorrow's tears adown are streaming, + Till my heart is like to die. + + Could I myrtle-garlands braid thee, + And the cedar's sombre hair! + To the merry dances lead thee, + That the youths and maidens share! + Hadst thou seen in robes the fairest, + Glittering with gems the rarest, + Thy belov'd, so happy there! + + Ardent looks my walk attended, + Suitors lowly bent the knee, + Songs of tenderness ascended + With the evening star to me. + In the cherished there confiding,-- + Faith to woman, love abiding, + Was their burden ceaselessly. + + There, around the crystal fountains + Heaven fondly sinks to rest, + Sighing through the wooded mountains + By its balmy waves caressed; + Where among the pleasure-bowers, + Hidden by the fruits and flowers, + Thousand motley songsters nest. + + Wide those youthful dreams are scattered! + Fatherland lies far away! + Long ago those trees were shattered, + And consumed the castle gray. + Came a savage band in motion + Fearful like the waves of ocean, + And Elysium wasted lay. + + Terribly the flames were gushing + Through the air with sullen roar, + And a brutal throng came rushing + Fiercely mounted to the door. + Sabres rang, and father, brother, + Ne'er again beheld each other,-- + Us away they rudely tore. + + Though my eyes with tears are thronging, + Still, thou distant motherland, + They are turned, how full of longing, + Full of love, toward thy strand! + Thou, O child, alone dost save me + From the thought that anguish gave me, + Life to quench with hardy hand. + +Henry heard the sobbing of a child and a soothing voice. He descended +deeper through the shrubbery, and discovered a pale, languishing girl +sitting beneath an old oak tree. A beautiful child hung crying on her +neck, and she herself was weeping; a lute lay at her side upon the +turf. She seemed a little alarmed when she saw the young stranger, who +was drawing near with a saddened countenance. + +"You have probably heard my song," said she kindly. "Your face seems +familiar to me; let me think. My memory fails me, but the sight of you +awakens in me a strange recollection of joyous days. O! it appears as +if you resembled my brother, who before our disasters was separated +from us and travelled to Persia, to visit a renowned poet there. +Perhaps he yet lives and sadly sings the misfortunes of his sisters. +Would that I yet remembered some of the beautiful songs he left us! He +was noble and kind-hearted, and found his chief happiness in his lute." + +The child, who was ten or twelve years old, looked at the strange youth +attentively, and clung fast to the bosom of the unhappy Zulima. Henry's +heart was penetrated with sympathy. He consoled the songstress with +friendly words, and prayed her to relate to him her history +circumstantially. She seemed not unwilling to do so. Henry seated +himself before her, and listened to her tale, interrupted as it was by +frequent tears. She dwelt principally upon the praises of her +countrymen and fatherland. She portrayed their loftiness of soul, and +their pure, strong susceptibility of life's poetry, and the wonderfully +mysterious charms of nature, She described the romantic beauties of the +fertile regions of Arabia, which lay like happy islands in the midst of +impassable, sandy wastes, refuge places for the oppressed and weary, +like colonies of Paradise,--full of fresh wells, whose streams trilled +over dense meadows and glittering stones, through venerable groves, +filled with every variety of singing birds; regions attractive also in +numerous monuments of memorable past time. + +"You would look with wonder," she said, "upon the many-colored, +distinct, and curious traces and images upon the old stone slabs. They +seem to have been always well known; nor have they been preserved +without a reason. You muse and muse, you conjecture single meanings, +and become more and more curious to arrive at the deep coherence of +these old writings. Their unknown meaning excites unwonted meditation; +and even though you depart without having solved the enigmas, you have +yet made a thousand remarkable discoveries in yourself, which give to +life a new refulgence, and to the mind an ever profitable occupation. +Life, on a soil inhabited in olden time, and once glorious in its +industry, activity, and attachment to noble pursuits, has a peculiar +charm. Nature seems to have become there more human, more rational; a +dim remembrance throws back through the transparent present the images +of the world in marked outline; and thus you enjoy a twofold world, +purged by this very process from the rude and disagreeable, and made +the magic poetry and fable of the mind. Who knows whether also an +indefinable influence of the former inhabitants, now departed, does not +conspire to this end? And perhaps it is this hidden bias, that drives +men from new countries, at a certain period of their awakening, with +such a restless longing for the old home of their race, and that +emboldens them to risk their property and life, for the sake of +possessing these lands." + +After a pause she continued. + +"Believe not what you are told of the cruelties of my countrymen. +Nowhere are captives treated more magnanimously; and even your pilgrims +to Jerusalem were received with hospitality; only they seldom deserved +it. Most of them were worthless men, who distinguished their +pilgrimages by their evil deeds, and who, for that reason, often fell +into the hands of just revenge. How peacefully might the Christian have +visited the holy sepulchre, without being under the necessity of +commencing a terrible and useless war, which embitters everything, +spreads abroad continued misery, and which has separated forever the +land of the morning from Europe! What is there in the name of +possessor? Our rulers reverentially honored the grave of your Holy One, +whom we also consider a divine person; and how beautifully might his +sacred tomb become the cradle of a happy union, the source of an +alliance blessing all forever!" + +Night overtook them during this conversation, darkness approached, and +the moon rose in quiet light from the dark forest. They descended +slowly towards the castle. Henry was full of thought, and his warlike +inspiration had entirely vanished. He observed a strange confusion in +the world; the moon assumed the appearance of a sympathizing spectator, +and raised him above the ruggedness of the earth's surface, which there +seemed so inconsiderable, however wild and insurmountable it might +appear to the wanderer below. Zulima walked silently by his side, hand +in hand with the child. Henry carried the lute. He endeavored to revive +the sinking hope of his companion, to revisit once again her home, +whilst he felt within him an earnest prompting to be her deliverer, +though in what manner he knew not. A strange power seemed to lie in his +simple words, for Zulima felt an unwonted tranquillity, and thanked him +in the most touching manner for his consolation. + +The knights were yet in their cups, and the mother was engaged in +household gossip. Henry had no desire to return to the noisy hall. He +felt weary, and with his mother soon betook himself to the chamber, +that was set apart for them. He told her before he fell asleep, what +had happened, and soon sank into pleasant dreams. The merchants had +also retired betimes, and were early astir. The knights were in deep +sleep, when they started on their journey; but the lady of the house +tenderly took leave of them. Zulima had slept but little; an inward joy +had kept her awake; she made her appearance as they were departing, and +humbly but eagerly assisted the travellers. Before they started, she +brought with many tears her lute to Henry, and touchingly besought him +to take it with him as a remembrance of Zulima. + +"It was my brother's lute," she said, "who gave it to me at our last +parting; it is the only property I have saved. It seemed to please you +yesterday, and you leave me an inestimable gift,--_sweet hope_. Take +this small token of my gratitude, and let it be a pledge, that you will +remember the poor Zulima. We shall certainly see each other again, and +then perhaps I shall be much happier." + +Henry wept. He was unwilling to take the lute, so indispensable to her +happiness. + +"Give me," said he, "the golden hand in your hair ornamented with the +strange characters, unless it be memorial of your parents, sisters, or +brothers, and take in return a veil which my mother will gladly resign +to you." + +She finally yielded to his persuasions; and gave him the band, saying; + +"It is my name in my mother tongue, which I myself in better times +embroidered on this band. Let it be a pleasure for you to gaze upon it, +and to think that it has bound up my hair during a long and sorrowful +period, and has grown pale with its possessor." Henry's mother loosed +the veil and gave it to her, while she embraced her with tears. + + + + + CHAPTER V. + +After a few days' journey they arrived at a small village, situated at +the foot of some sharp hill-tops, interspersed with deep defiles. The +country in other respects was fruitful and pleasant, though the hilly +ridge presented a dead, repulsive appearance. The inn was neat, the +people attentive; and a number of men, partly travellers, partly mere +drinking guests, sat in the room entertaining themselves with various +cheer. + +Our travellers mingled with them, and joined in their conversation. The +attention of the company was particularly directed to an old man +strangely dressed, who sat by a table and answered pleasantly whatever +questions of curiosity were put to him. He had come from foreign lands, +and early that day had been examining the surrounding country. He was +now explaining his business, and the discoveries he had made during the +day. The people here called him a treasure-digger. But he spoke very +modestly of his power and knowledge; yet what he said bore the impress +of quaintness and novelty. He said that he was born in Bohemia. From +his youth he had been very curious to know what might be hidden in the +mountains, whence water poured its visible springs, and where gold, +silver, and precious stones were found, so irresistibly attractive to +man. He had often in the neighboring cloister-chapel beheld their solid +light appended to the pictures and relics, and only wished that they +would speak to him in explanation of their wonderful origin. He had +indeed sometimes heard that they came from far distant regions; but had +always wondered why such treasures and jewels might not also be found +in his own land. The mountains would not be so extensive and lofty, and +so closely guarded, without some purpose; he also imagined that he had +found shining and glimmering stones upon them. He had climbed about +industriously among the clefts and caves, and had peered into their +antiquated halls and arches with unspeakable pleasure. + +At length he met a traveller who told him that he must become a miner +in order to satisfy his curiosity. There were miners in Bohemia, and he +needed only descend the river for ten or twelve days, to Eula, where to +gratify his desire he had only to mention it. He waited for no further +confirmation of this, but set off on the next day. After a fatiguing +journey of several days he reached Eula. + +"I cannot describe how gloriously I felt, when I saw from the hill the +piles of rock overgrown with thickets, upon which stood the board huts, +and watched the smoke-wreaths rising over the forest from the valley +below. A distant murmur increased my eager anticipations. With +incredible curiosity and full of silent reverence, I soon stood +over a steep descent, which led precipitously down into the mountain, +from among the huts. I hastened towards the valley, and soon met +some men dressed in black, with lamps in their hands, whom I not +improperly took to be miners, and to whom I told my desire with anxious +timidity. They listened to me kindly, and told me that I must go to the +smelting-houses and inquire for the overseer, who supplied the place of +director and master, and who would tell me whether I could be admitted. +They thought my request would be granted, and told me that 'good luck' +was the customary form of greeting the overseer. Full of joyous +expectations I pursued my way, constantly repeating to myself the new +and significant greeting. I found a venerable old man who received me +with kindness, and after telling him my history and my warm desire to +be instructed in his rare and mysterious art, he readily promised to +fulfil my wishes. He seemed pleased with me, and entertained me in his +own house. I could scarcely wait for the moment when I should descend +the pit, and behold myself in the long-coveted apparel. That very +evening he brought me a mining-dress, and explained to me the use of +some tools which were kept in a chamber. At evening the miners came to +him, and not a word of their conversation did I lose, however foreign +and unintelligible the chief part of their language appeared to me. The +little, however, that I seemed to understand heightened the ardor of my +curiosity, and busied me at night with strange dreams. I awoke early, +and found myself at the house of my new host, where the miners were +gradually collecting to receive orders. A little side-room was fitted +up as a chapel. A monk appeared and read mass, and afterwards +pronounced a solemn prayer, in which he invoked Heaven to give the +miners its holy protection, to assist them in their dangerous labors, +to defend them from the temptations and snares of evil spirits, and to +grant them abundant ore. I never prayed more fervently, and never +realized so vividly the deep significance of the mass. My companions +appeared to me like heroes of the lower earth, who were obliged to +encounter a thousand perils, but possessing an enviable fortune in +their precious knowledge, and prepared, by grave and silent intercourse +with the primeval children of nature, in their sombre, mystic chambers, +for the reception of heavenly gifts, and for a blessed elevation above +the world and its troubles. When the service was concluded, the +overseer, giving me a lamp and a small wooden crucifix, accompanied me +to the shaft, as we are accustomed to call the steep entrance into the +subterraneous abodes. He taught me the method of descent, acquainted me +with the necessary precautions, as well as with the names of the +various objects and divisions. He led the way, and slid down a round +beam, grasping with one hand a rope, which was knotted to a transverse +bar, and with the other his lamp. I followed his example, and in this +manner we soon reached a considerable depth. I have seldom felt so +solemnly; and the distant light glimmered like a happy star, pointing +out the path to the secret treasures of nature. We came below to a +labyrinth of paths. My kind master was ever ready to answer my +inquisitive questions, and to teach me concerning his art. The roaring +of the water, the distance from the inhabited surface, the darkness and +intricacy of the paths, and the distant hum of the working miners, +delighted me extremely, and I joyfully felt myself in full possession +of all that for which I had most ardently sighed. This complete +satisfaction of our innate taste, this wonderful delight in things +which perhaps have an intimate relation to our secret being, and in +occupations for which one is destined from the cradle, cannot be +explained or described. Perhaps they might appear to every one else +common, insignificant, and unpleasant; but they seemed to me necessary +as air to the lungs, or food to the stomach. My good master was pleased +at my inward delight, and promised me that, with such zeal and +attention, I should advance rapidly and become an able miner. With what +reverence did I behold for the first time in my life, on the sixteenth +of March, more than five-and-forty years ago, the king of metals in +small, delicate leaves between the fissures of the rocks! It seemed as +if, having been doomed here to close captivity, it glittered kindly +towards, the miner, who with so many dangers and labors breaks a way to +it through its strong prison-walls, that he may remove it to the light +of day, and exalt it to the honor of royal crowns, vessels, and holy +relics, and to dominion over the world in the shape of genuine coin, +adorned with emblems, cherished by all. From that time I remained at +Eula, and advanced gradually from the business of removing the hewn +pieces of ore in baskets, to the degree of hewer, who is the real +miner, and who performs the observations upon the stone." + +The old man paused a moment in his narration, and drank, while the +attentive listeners pledged his good luck, as they drained their cups. +Henry was delighted with the old man's discourse, and was desirous to +hear still more from him. + +His listeners related descriptions of the dangers and strangeness of +the miner's life, and had many marvels to tell, at which the old man +often smiled, and endeavored to correct their odd representations. + +After a while Henry said, "you must have experienced much that is +wonderful since then, I hope you have never repented your selection of +a mode of life. Be kind enough to tell us how you have employed +yourself since, and why you are now travelling. You must have looked +farther into the world, and I am certain that you are now something +more than a common miner." + +"I take great pleasure," said the old man, "in the recollection of past +times, in which I find cause to bless the divine mercy and goodness. +Fate has led me through a joyful and serene life, and not a day has +passed, at the close of which I could not retire to rest with a +thankful heart. I have always been fortunate in my undertakings, and +our common Father in Heaven has guarded me from evil, and brought me to +a gray old age with honor. Next to him I must thank my old master for +all these blessings, who long since was gathered to his fathers, and of +whom I never can think without tears. He was a man of the old school, +after God's own heart. He was gifted with deep penetration, yet +childlike and humble in every action. Through his means mining has +become in high repute, and has helped the duke of Bohemia to immense +treasures. The whole region has become by its influence settled and +prosperous, and is now a blooming land. All the miners honored him as a +father, and as long as Eula stands, his name will be mentioned with +emotion and gratitude. His name was Werner, and he was a Lausatian by +birth. His only daughter was a mere child when I came to his house. My +industry, faithfulness, and devoted attachment daily won his affection. +He gave me his name and adopted me as his son. The little girl grew to +be an open-hearted, merry creature, whose countenance was as +beautifully clear and pure as her own mind. The old man, when he saw +that she was attached to me, that I loved to play with her, and that I +could never cease gazing at her eyes, which were as blue and open as +heaven and glittering as crystal, often told me that when I became a +worthy miner, he would not refuse her to me. He kept his word. The day +I became hewer he laid his hands upon us, blessed us as bride and +bridegroom, and a few weeks afterward I called her my wife. Early on +that day, although a mere apprentice, I struck upon a rich vein. The +Duke sent me a golden chain, with his likeness engraven on a large +medallion, and promised me the office of my father-in-law. How happy +was I when on my marriage day I hung the chain around the neck of my +bride, and the eyes of all were turned upon her. Our old father lived +to see some merry grand-children, and his declining years were more +joyous than he had ever anticipated. With joy could he finish his task, +and fare forth from the dark mine of this world, to rest in peace, and +await the final day. + +"Sir," said the old man, as he turned his gaze upon Henry, and wiped +some tears from his eyes, "it must be that mining is blessed by God; +for there is no art, which renders those who are occupied in it happier +and nobler, which awakens a deeper faith in divine wisdom and guidance, +or which preserves the innocence and childlike simplicity of the heart +more freshly. Poor is the miner born, and poor he departs again. He is +satisfied with knowing where metallic riches are found, and with +bringing them to light; but their dazzling glare has no power over his +simple heart. Untouched by the perilous delirium, he is more pleased in +examining their wonderful formation, and the peculiarities of their +origin and primitive situation, than in calling himself their +possessor. When changed into property, they have no longer any charm +for him, and he prefers to seek them amid a thousand dangers and +travails, in the fastnesses of the earth, rather than to follow their +vocation in the world, or aspire after them on the earth's surface, +with cunning and deceitful arts. These severe labors keep his heart +fresh and his mind strong; he enjoys his scanty pay with inward +thankfulness, and comes forth every day from the dark tombs of his +calling, with new-born enjoyment of life. He now appreciates the +pleasure of light and of rest, the charms of the free air and prospect; +his food and drink are right refreshing to one, who enjoys them as +devoutly as if at the Lord's Supper; and with what a warm and tender +heart he joins his friends, or embraces his wife and children, and +thankfully shares the delights of heart-felt intercourse." + +"His lonely occupation cuts off a great part of his life from day and +the society of man. Still he does not harden himself in dull +indifference as to these deep-meaning matters of the upper world; and +he retains a childlike simplicity, which recognises the interior +essence, and the manifold, primitive energies of all things. Nature +will never be the possession of any single individual. In the form of +property it becomes a terrible poison, which destroys rest, excites the +ruinous desire of drawing everything within the reach of its possessor, +and carries with it a train of wild passions and endless sorrows. Thus +it undermines secretly the ground of the owner, buries him in the abyss +which breaks beneath him, and so passes into the hands of another, thus +gradually satisfying its tendency to belong to all. + +"How quietly, on the contrary, the poor miner labors in his deep +solitudes, far from the restless turmoil of day, animated solely by a +thirst for knowledge and a love of harmony. In his solitude he tenderly +thinks of his friends and family, and his sense of their value and +relationship is continually renewed. His calling teaches indefatigable +patience, and forbids his attention to be diverted by useless thoughts. +He deals with a strange, hard, and unwieldly power, which will yield +only to persevering industry and continual care. But what a glorious +flower blooms for him in these awful depths,--a firm confidence in his +heavenly Father, whose hand and care are every day visible to him in +signs not easily mistaken! How often have I sat down, and by the light +of my lamp gazed upon the plain crucifix with the most heart-felt +devotion! Then for the first time I clearly understood the holy meaning +of this mysterious image, and struck upon a heart-vein of the richest +golden ore, and which has yielded me an everlasting reward." + +After a pause the old man continued:-- + +"Truly must he have been divine, who first taught men the noble art of +mining, and who has hidden in the bosom of the rock this sober emblem +of human life. In one place the veins are large, easily broken, but +poor; in another a wretched and insignificant cleft of rock confines +it; and here the best ores are to be found. It often splits before the +miner's face into a thousand atoms, but the patient one is not +terrified; he quietly pursues his course, and soon sees his zeal +rewarded, whilst working it open in a new and more promising direction. + +"A specious lump often entices him from the true direction; but he soon +discovers that the way is false, and breaks his way by main strength +across the grain of the rock, until he has found the true path that +leads to the ore. How thoroughly acquainted does the miner here become +with all the humors of chance, and how assured that energy and +constancy are the only sure means of overcoming them and of raising the +hidden treasure." + +"Certainly you are not without cheering songs," said Henry. "I should +think that your calling would involuntarily inspire you with music, and +that songs would be your welcome companions." + +"There you have spoken the truth," said the old man. "The song and the +guitar belong to the miner's life, and no occupation can retain their +charm with more zest than ours. Music and dancing are the pleasures of +the miner; like a joyful prayer are they, and the remembrance and hope +of them help to lighten weary labor and shorten long solitude. + +"If you would like it now, I will give you a song for your +entertainment, which was a favorite in my youth. + + "Who fathoms her recesses, + Is monarch of the sphere,-- + Forgetting all distresses, + Within her bosom here. + + "Of all her granite piling + The secret make he knows, + And down amid her toiling + Unweariedly he goes. + + "He is unto her plighted, + And tenderly allied,-- + Becomes by her delighted, + As if she were his bride. + + "New love each day is burning + For her within his breast, + No toil or trouble shunning, + She leaveth him no rest. + + "To him her voice is swelling + In solemn, friendly rhyme, + The mighty stories telling + Of long-evanished time. + + "The Fore-world's holy breezes + Around his temples play, + And caverned night releases + To him a quenchless ray. + + "On every side he greeteth + A long familiar land, + And willingly she meeteth + The labors of his hand. + + "For helpful waves are flowing + Along his mountain course, + And rocky holds are showing + Their treasures' secret source. + + "Toward his monarch's palace + He guides the golden stream, + And diadem and chalice + With noble jewels gleam. + + "Though faithfully his treasure + He renders to the king, + He liveth poor with pleasure, + And makes no questioning. + + "And though beneath him daily + They fight for gold and gain, + Above here let him gaily + The lord of earth remain." + +The song pleased Henry exceedingly, and he begged the old man to sing +another. He was willing to gratify him, saying, "I know one song that +is very strange, and of whose origin we ourselves are ignorant. A +travelling miner, who came to us from a distance, and who was a curious +diviner with a wand, brought it with him. The song became a favorite +because it was so peculiar,--nearly as dark and obscure as the music +itself; but on that very account singularly attractive, and like a +dream between sleeping and waking. + + "I know where is a castle strong, + With stately king in silence reigning, + Attended by a wondrous throng, + Yet deep within its walls remaining. + His pleasure-hall is far aloof, + With viewless warders round it gliding, + And only streams familiar sliding + Toward him from the sparry roof. + + "Of what they see with lustrous eyes, + Where all the stars in light are dwelling, + They faithfully the king apprize, + And never are they tired of telling. + He bathes himself within their flood, + So daintily his members washing, + And all his light again is flashing + Throughout his mother's[2] paly blood. + + "His castle old and marvellous, + From seas unfathomed o'er him closing, + Stood firm, and ever standeth thus, + Escape to upper air opposing; + An inner spell in secret thrall + The vassals of the realm is holding, + And clouds, like triumph-flags unfolding, + Are gathered round the rocky wall. + + "Lo, an innumerable race + Before the barred portals lying; + And each the trusty servant plays, + The ears of men so blandly plying. + So men are lured the king to gain, + Divining not that they are captured; + But thus by specious longing raptured, + Forget the hidden cause of pain. + + "But few are cunning and awake, + Nor ever for his treasures pining; + And these assiduous efforts make, + The ancient castle undermining. + The mighty spell's primeval tie + True insight's hand alone can sever; + If so the Inmost opens ever, + The dawn of freedom's day is nigh. + + "To toil the firmest wall is sand, + To courage no abyss unsounded; + Who trusteth in his heart and hand, + Seeks for the king with zeal unbounded. + He brings him from his secret hill, + The spirit foes by spirits quelling, + Masters the torrents madly swelling, + And makes them follow at his will. + + "The more the king appears in sight, + And freely round the earth is flowing, + The more diminishes his might, + The more the free in number growing. + At length dissolves that olden spell,-- + And through the castle void careering, + Us homeward is the ocean bearing + Upon its gentle, azure swell." + +Just as the old man ended, it struck Henry that he had somewhere heard +that song. He asked him to repeat it and wrote it down. The old man +then departed, and the merchants conversed with the other guests on the +pleasures and hardships of mining. One said "I don't believe the old +man is here without some object. He has been climbing to-day among the +hills, and has doubtless discovered good signs. We will ask him when he +comes in again." + +"See here," said another, "we might ask him to hunt up a well for our +village. Good water is far off, and a well would be right welcome to +us." + +"It occurs to me," said a third, "that I might ask him to take with him +one of my sons, who has already filled the house with stones. The +youngster would certainly make an able miner, and the old man seems +honest, and one who would bring him up in the way he should go." + +The merchants were thinking whether they might not establish, by aid of +the miner, a profitable trade with Bohemia, and procure metals thence +at low prices. The old man entered the room again, and all wished to +make use of his acquaintance, when he began to say:-- + +"How dull and depressing is this narrow room! The moon is without there +in all her glory, and I have a great desire to take a walk. I saw +to-day some remarkable caves in this neighborhood. Perhaps some of you +would like to go with me; and if we take lights, we shall be able to +view them without any difficulty." + +The inhabitants of the village were already acquainted with the +existence of these caves, but no one had as yet dared to enter them. On +the contrary they were deceived by frightful traditions of dragons and +other monsters, which were said to dwell therein. Some went so far as +to say that they had seen them, and insisted that the bones of men who +had been robbed, and of animals which had been devoured, were to be +found at the entrances of these caves. Others thought that a ghost +haunted them, for they had often seen from a distance a strange human +form there, and songs had been heard thence at night. + +The old man was rather incredulous upon the point, and laughingly +assured them that they could visit the caves with safety under the +protection of a miner, since such monsters must shun him; and as for a +singing spirit, that must certainly be a beneficent one. Curiosity +rendered many courageous enough to accept his proposition. Henry wished +also to accompany him, and his mother at length yielded to his +entreaties, and the persuasion and promises of the old man, who agreed +to have a special eye to his safety. The merchants promised to do the +same. Long sticks of pitch-pine were collected for torches; part of the +company provided themselves plentifully with ladders, poles, ropes, and +all sorts of defensive weapons, and thus finally they started for the +neighboring hills. The old man led the way with Henry and the +merchants. The boor had brought that inquisitive son of his, who full +of joy held a torch and pointed out the way to the caves. The evening +was clear and warm. The moon shone mildly over the hills, prompting +strange dreams in all creatures. Itself lay like a dream of the sun, +above the introverted world of visions, and restored nature, now living +in its infinite phases, back to that fabulous olden time, when every +bud yet slumbered by itself, lonely and unquickened, longing in vain to +expand the dark fulness of its immeasurable existence. The evening's +tale mirrored itself in Henry's mind. It seemed as if the world lay +disclosed within him, showing him as a friendly visitor all her hidden +treasures and beauties. So clearly was the great yet simple apparition +revealed to him. Nature seemed incomprehensible, only because the near +and the true loomed around man with such a manifold lavishment of +expression. The words of the old man had opened a secret door. He saw a +little dwelling built close to a lofty minster, from whose stone +pavement arose the solemn foreworld, while the clear, joyous future, in +the form of golden cherubs, floated from the spire towards it with +songs. Loud swelled the notes in their silvery chanting, as all +creatures were entering at the wide gate, each audibly expressing in a +simple prayer and proper tongue their interior nature. How strange it +seemed that this clear view, so necessary to his existence, had been so +long unknown to him. He now reviewed at a glance all his relations to +the wide world around him. He felt what he had become, and was to +become, through its influence, and comprehended all the peculiar +conceptions and presages, which he had already often stumbled upon in +contemplation. The story which the merchants had related of the young +man, who studied nature so assiduously, and who became the son-in-law +of the king, recurred to his mind, with a thousand other recollections +of his past life, weaving themselves involuntarily on his part into a +magic thread. While Henry was thus occupied in his inward musings, the +company had approached the cave. The entrance was low, and the old man +took a torch and first clambered over some fragments of rock. A +perceptible current of air blew towards them, and the old man assured +them that they could follow with confidence. The most timorous brought +up the rear, holding their weapons in readiness. Henry and the +merchants were behind the old man, and the boy walked merrily at his +side. The path, at first narrow, emerged into a spacious and lofty +cave, which the gleam of the torches could not fully illumine. Some +openings, however, were seen in the rocky wall opposite. The ground was +soft and quite even; the walls and ceiling were also neither rough nor +irregular. But the innumerable bones and teeth which covered the +ground, chiefly attracted the attention of all. Many were in a full +state of preservation, some bore marks of decay, while some projecting +here and there from the walls seemed petrified. Most of them were of +extraordinary size and strength. The old man was much gratified at +seeing these relics of gray antiquity; they added little courage, +however, to the farmers, who considered them downright evidence, that +beasts of prey were near at hand, although the old man pointed out the +signs upon them of a remote antiquity, and asked them whether they had +ever heard of destruction among their flocks, or the seizure of men in +the neighborhood, and whether they thought these relics the bones of +known beasts or men. The old man wished to penetrate farther into the +cave, but the farmers deemed it advisable to retreat to its mouth, and +there await his return. Henry, the merchants, and the boy remained with +him, having provided themselves with ropes and torches. They soon +reached a second cave, where the old man did not forget to mark the +path by which they entered, by a figure of bones which he erected +before the mouth. This cave resembled the other, and was equally full +of the remains of animals. Henry's mind was affected by wonder and +awe; he felt as if passing through the outer-court of the central +earth-palace. Heaven and earth lay at once far distant from him; these +dark and vast halls seemed parts of some strange subterraneous kingdom. +"May it not be possible," thought he to himself, "that beneath our feet +there moves by itself a world in mighty life, that strange productions +derive their being from the bowels of the earth, which sends forth the +internal heat of its dark bosom into gigantic and preternatural shapes? +Might not these awful strangers have been driven forth once by the +piercing cold, and appeared amongst us, while perhaps at the same time +heavenly guests, living, speaking energies of the stars, were visible +above our heads? Are these bones the remains of their wandering upon +the surface, or of their flight into the deep?" + +Suddenly the old man called them to him, and showed them the fresh +track of a human foot upon the ground. They could discover no more, so +that the old man concluded they might follow the track without fear of +meeting robbers. They were about to do this, when suddenly, as from a +great depth beneath their feet, a distinct strain arose. They listened +attentively, with not a little astonishment. + + "In the vale I gladly linger, + Smiling in the dusky night, + For to me with rosy finger + Proffers Love his cup of light. + + "With its dew my spirit sunken + Wafted is toward the skies, + And I stand in this life drunken + At the gate of paradise. + + "Lulled in blessed contemplation, + Vexes me no petty smart; + O, the queen of all creation + Gives to me her faithful heart. + + "Many years of tearful sorrows + Glorified this common clay,-- + Thence a graven form it borrows, + Life securing it for aye. + + "Here the lapse of days evanished + But a moment seems to me; + Backward would I turn, if banished, + Gazing hither gratefully." + +All were most agreeably surprised and eagerly wished to discover the +singer. + +After some search, they found in an angle of the right wall a deep +sunken path, to which the footsteps seemed to lead them. Soon they +thought they perceived a light, which became clearer as they +approached. A new vault of greater extent than those they had yet +passed opened before them, in the further extremity of which they saw a +human form sitting by a lamp, with a great book before him upon a slab, +in which he appeared to be reading. + +The figure turned towards them, arose, and came forward. He was a man +whose age it were impossible to guess. He seemed neither old nor young, +and no traces of time were discoverable, except in his smooth silvery +hair, which was parted on his forehead. An indescribable air of +serenity dwelt in his eyes, as if he were looking down from a clear +mountain into an infinite spring. + +He had sandals upon his feet, and wore no other dress except a large +mantle cast around him, which added dignity to his noble form. He +expressed no surprise at their unexpected arrival, and greeted them as +old acquaintances and expected guests. + +"It is pleasant indeed," said he, "that you have sought me. You are the +first friends I have ever seen, though I have dwelt here a long season. +It seems that men are beginning to examine our spacious and wonderful +mansion a little more closely." + +The old man answered, "We did not expect to find here so friendly a +host. We had been told of wild beasts and spectres, but we now find +ourselves most agreeably deceived. If we have disturbed your devotions +or deep meditations, pardon it to our curiosity." + +"Can any sight be more delightful," said the unknown, "than the joyous +and speaking countenance of man? Think not that I am a misanthrope, +because you find me in this solitude. I have not shunned the world, but +have only sought a retirement, where I could apply myself to my +meditations undisturbed." + +"Have you never grieved for your own desolation, and do not hours +sometimes come, when you are fearful, and long to hear a human voice?" + +"Now, no more. There was a time in my youth, when a highly wrought +imagination induced me to become a hermit. Dark forebodings busied my +youthful fancy. I thought to find in solitude full nourishment for my +heart. The fountain of my inner life seemed inexhaustible. But I soon +learned that fulness of experience must be added to it, that a young +heart cannot dwell alone; nay, that man, by manifold intercourse with +his race, reaches a certain self-subsisting independence." + +"I myself believe," said the old man, "that there is a certain natural +impulse to every mode of life; and that perhaps the experiences of +increasing age lead of themselves to a withdrawal from human society. +It then seems as if society were devoted to activity as much for gain +as for maintenance. It is powerfully impelled by a great hope, by a +common object, and children and the aged seem not at home. Helplessness +and ignorance exclude the first from it, while the latter, with every +hope fulfilled, every object attained, and new hopes and objects no +longer woven into their circle, turn back into themselves, and find +enough employment in preparing for a higher existence. But more +peculiar causes seem to have separated you entirely from men, and +influenced you to resign all the comforts of society. Methinks that the +tension of your mind must often relax, and give place to the most +disagreeable emotions." + +"I have indeed felt that; but have learned to avoid it by a strict +regularity in my mode of living. For this purpose I endeavor by +exercise to preserve my health, and then there is no danger. Every day +I walk for several hours and enjoy the light and air as much as +possible; or I remain in these halls, and busy myself at certain times +with basket-braiding and carving. I exchange my ware at distant places +for provisions; I have brought many books with me, and thus time passes +like a moment. In these places I have acquaintances who know where I +live, and from whom I learn what is going on in the world. These will +bury me when I die, and take away my books." + +He led them nearer his seat, which was against the wall of the cave. +They noticed several books and a guitar lying upon the ground, and upon +the wall hung a complete suit of armor apparently quite costly. The +table consisted of five great stone slabs, put together in the form of +a box. Upon the upper one were two sculptured male and female figures +large as life, holding a garland of lilies and roses. Upon the side was +inscribed, + +"Frederick and Mary of Hohenzollern here returned to their native +dust." + +The hermit inquired of his guests concerning their fatherland, and how +they had journeyed into these regions. He was kind and communicative, +and displayed great knowledge of the world. + +The old man said, "I see you have been a warrior; the armor betrays +you." + +"The dangers and vicissitudes of war, the deep, poetic spirit connected +with an armed host, tore me from my youthful solitude and determined +the destiny of my life. Perhaps the long tumult, the innumerable events +among which I have dwelt, awakened in me a yet stronger inclination for +solitude, where numberless recollections make pleasant companions; and +this the more, in proportion as our view of them is varied; a view +which now first discovers their true connexion, their significance, and +their occult tendency. The peculiar sense for the study of man's +history develops itself but tardily, and rather through the silent +influence of memory than by the more forcible impressions of the +present. The nearest events seem but loosely connected, yet they +sympathize so much the more curiously with the remote. And it is only +when one is able to comprehend in one view a lengthened series, neither +interpreting too literally, nor confounding the proper method with +capricious fancies, that he detects the secret chain which binds the +past to the future, and learns to rear the fabric of history from hope +and memory. Yet only he can succeed in discovering the simple laws of +history, to whom the whole past is present. We arrive only at +incomplete and cumbrous formulas, and are well content to find for +ourselves an available prescription, that may sufficiently expound the +riddle of our own short lives. But I can truly say that each rigorous +view of the events of life causes us deep and inexhaustible pleasure, +and raises us, of all speculations, the highest above earthly evils. +Youth reads history only from curiosity, as it cons a story; to +maturity it becomes a divinely consoling and edifying companion, +preparing it gently by its wise discourses for a higher and more +embracing sphere of action, and acquainting it through intelligible +images with the unknown world. The church is the dwelling-house of +history, the church-yard its symbolic flower-garden. History should +only be written by old and pious men, whose own is drawing to its +close, and who have nothing more to hope for, but transplantation to +the garden. Their descriptions will be neither obscure nor dull; on the +contrary a ray from the spire will exhibit everything in the most exact +and beautiful light, and the Holy Spirit will hover above these rarely +stirred waters." + +"How true and obvious are your remarks," said the old man. "We ought +certainly to spend more labor in faithfully recording the occurrences +of our own times, and should leave our record as a devout bequest for +posterity. There are a thousand remoter matters to which care and labor +are devoted, while we trouble ourselves little with the nearer and +weightier, the occurrences of our lives, and those of our relatives and +generation, whose fleeting destiny we have comprehended in the idea of +a Providence. We heedlessly suffer all traces of these to escape from +our memories. Like consecrated relics, all facts of the past will be +sought for by a wiser future, not indifferent to the biography of the +most insignificant man, since in his life the lives of all his greater +contemporaries will be more or less reflected." + +"It is also much to be regretted," said the count of Hohenzollern, +"that even the few, who have undertaken to report the deeds and events +of their times, have not carried out their designs, nor striven to give +order and completeness to their observations; but have proceeded almost +wholly at random in the choice and collection of their facts. Any one +may easily see that he only can describe plainly and perfectly, that +which he knows exactly, whose origin and consequences, object and use, +are present to his mind; for otherwise there will be no description, +but a bewildering mixture of imperfect statements. Let a child describe +an engine, or a farmer a ship, and no one can gain anything useful or +instructive from their words; and so is it with most historians, who +are perhaps able enough even to be wearisome in relating and collecting +facts; but who forget what is most note-worthy, what first makes +history historical, and connects so many varied events in an agreeable +and instructive whole. If I understand all this rightly, it appears to +me necessary that a historian should be also a poet; for poets alone +know the art of skilfully combining events. In their tales and fables I +have often noticed, with silent pleasure, a tender sympathy with the +mysterious spirit of life. There is more truth in their romances than +in learned chronicles. Though the heroes and their fates are +inventions, yet the spirit in which they are composed is true and +natural. In some degree it matters not whether those persons, in whose +fates we trace our own, ever did or did not exist. We seek to +contemplate the great and simple spirit of an age's phenomena; and if +this wish be gratified, we are not cumbered about the certainty of the +existence of their external forms."[See Note II.] + +"I have also been much attached to the poets on that account," said the +old man. "Life and the world have become through them more clear and +perceptible to me. It has appeared to me that they must be in alliance +with the acute spirits of light, which penetrate and divide all +natures, and spread over each a peculiar, softly tinted veil. By their +songs I felt my own nature gently developed, and it could move, as it +were, more freely, enjoy its social disposition and desires, poise with +silent pleasure its limbs against each other, and in various forms +excite delight a thousand-fold." + +"Were you so happy in your country as to have some poets?" asked the +hermit. + +"There have been a few with us at times; but travelling seemed their +chief pleasure, and therefore they scarcely ever remained long with us. +But during my wanderings in Illyria, Saxony, and Sweden, I have met +some, the remembrance of whom is ever pleasant." + +"You have, travelled far, and doubtless must have seen much during your +life, that is wonderful." + +"Our art almost compels us to look industriously around the world, and +it is as if the miner were driven by a subterraneous fire. One mountain +sends him to another. He never ceases his scrutiny, and during his +whole life is gaining knowledge from that wonderful architecture, which +has so curiously floored and wainscotted the earth under our feet. Our +art is very ancient and extended. It may indeed, like our race, have +migrated with the sun from the East toward the West, from the middle to +the extremities. It has been obliged everywhere to combat with other +difficulties; and as necessity continually urges the human spirit to +wise inventions, so the miner can increase his knowledge and ability, +and enrich his home with youthful experience." + +"You are well nigh inverted astrologers," said the hermit; "as they +ceaselessly regard the sky, wandering through its immeasurable spaces, +so do you turn your gaze to the earth, exploring its construction. +Astrologers study the forces and influences of the stars, while you are +discovering the forces of rocks and mountains, and the manifold +properties of earth and stone strata. To them the higher world is a +book of futurity; to you the earth is a memorial of the primeval +world." + +"This connexion is not without its meaning," said the old man; "these +shining prophets play perhaps a chief part in that old history of the +wonderful creation. Men perhaps in the course of time will learn to +understand them better, and to explain them by their operations, and +inversely. Perhaps also the great mountain-chains exhibit the traces of +their former ways, and perhaps they desired to support themselves +without foreign aid, to take their own way to Heaven. Many raised +themselves boldly enough that they might become stars, and therefore +must now be deprived of the fair green vesture of the lower regions. +They have therefore gained nothing, except the power of influencing the +weather for their fathers, and of becoming prophets for the lower +world, which now they protect, and now deluge with tempests." + +"Since I have dwelt in this cave," the hermit answered, "I have been +accustomed to reflect more on ancient times. I cannot describe how +attractive such meditations are, and I can imagine the love which a +miner must cherish for his trade. When I look upon these strange old +bones, which are collected in such great numbers here; when I picture +to myself the savage period when those strange and monstrous beasts +crowded in dense bands into these caves, driven thither perhaps by fear +and terror, and finding here their death; when again I go back to the +times when these caves were formed, and wide-spread floods covered the +land; then I seem to myself like a dream of futurity; like a child of +eternal peace. How quiet and peaceful, how mild and dear is out present +nature, when compared with violent and gigantic times! The mightiest +tempests, the most terrible earthquakes of our day, are but weak echoes +of the throes of that first birth. Perhaps also the animal and +vegetable kingdoms, and even the men who then existed, if any were +found on the different islands of the ocean, were of firmer and ruder +organization; at least we should not then be obliged to accuse the +traditions of a giant race of being mere poetic fancies." + +"It is pleasant," said the old man, "to notice the gradual pacification +of nature. A concord ever becoming deeper, a more friendly intercourse, +reciprocal aid and encouragement, seem gradually to have been formed; +and we can look forward continually to better times. It may perhaps be +possible, that here and there a little of the old leaven is fermenting, +and that still more violent convulsions are to follow; yet these mighty +struggles for a free and harmonious existence are visible; and in this +spirit will every convulsion pass over and draw nearer to the great +goal. It may be that nature is no longer so fertile, that at present no +metals or precious stones, rocks or mountains are springing into +existence, that plants and animals do not increase to such an +astonishing size and strength; but the more that physical powers are +exhausted, the more have plastic, ennobling, and social powers +increased. The mind has become more susceptible and tender, the fancy +more varied and symbolical, the hand more free and artistic. Nature +approaches man; and if she were once an uncouthly teeming rock, then is +she now a quietly thriving plant, a silent human artist. And of what +service would be the multiplication of these treasures, of which there +are now enough for the most distant age? How small is the space I have +surveyed; and yet what mighty stores have I at a single glance +discovered, the use of which is left for future generations! What +riches are enclosed in the northern mountains, what favorable signs I +discovered throughout my native land, in Hungary, at the foot of the +Carpathian hills, and in the rocky vales of Tyrol, Austria, and +Bavaria. I might have been a rich man, if I had taken with me what I +might only have picked up and broken off. In many places I saw myself +as in a magic garden. On every side costly and skilfully framed metals +met my sight. From the beautiful tresses and branches of silver hung +glittering, ruby-red, transparent fruits; and the heavy-laden shrubs, +stood upon crystal ground of inimitable workmanship. One can scarcely +trust his senses in these wonderful regions, and can never grow weary +of rambling through these charming solitudes, or of gloating over their +jewels. I have seen much that is wonderful during my present journey, +and certainly in other lands the earth is equally plentiful and +fruitful." + +"When," said the unknown, "one remembers the treasures which are hidden +in the East, he cannot doubt what you remark; and have not distant +India, Africa, and Spain been distinguished even from antiquity, by the +richness of their soil? Though a soldier is not apt to take very exact +notice of the veins and the clefts of mountains, yet at times I have +reflected upon these shining tracts of land, which, like rare birds, +indicate an unexpected bloom and fruit. How little did I imagine, when +I passed these dark dwellings joyously by the light of day, that I +should ever finish my life in the bosom of a mountain! My love carried +me proudly above the surface of the earth, and I hoped in later years +to fall asleep in her embrace. The war having ended, I returned home, +full of glad expectations of a refreshing harvest. But the spirit of +the war seemed to have become the spirit of my fortune. My Maria had +borne me two children in the East. They were the joy of our existence. +The voyage and the rough air of the West destroyed their bloom; they +were buried a few days after my arrival in Europe. Sorrowfully I +carried my disconsolate wife to our home. A silent grief weakened the +thread which bound her to life. During a journey which I was obliged to +take, and on which, as was her wont, she accompanied me, she gently but +suddenly expired in my arms. It was near this place, where her earthly +pilgrimage was finished. My resolution was taken in a moment; I found, +what I had never expected; a heavenly illumination came over me; and +from the day when I buried her here with my own hands, a divine hand +freed my heart from all sorrow. Since then I have caused this monument +to be erected. An event often seems to be ending, when in fact it is +beginning; and thus has it been with my life. May God grant you an old +age as happy, and a spirit as quiet as mine." + +Henry and the merchants had listened attentively to the conversation; +and the first particularly was conscious of new developments in his +prophetic soul. Many words, many thoughts, fell like quickening seeds +into his breast, and soon drew him from the narrow circle of his youth +to the heights of the world. The hours just passed lay behind him like +long-revolving years; and it seemed as if he had always thought and +felt as now. + +The hermit showed him his books. They consisted of old histories and +poems. Henry turned over the leaves of these huge and beautifully +illuminated works, and his curiosity was strongly excited by the short +lines of the verses, the titles, some of the passages, and the +beautiful pictures which appeared here and there, like embodied words, +to assist the imagination of the reader. The Hermit observed his inward +gratification and explained these singular pictures. All the varied +scenes of life were represented among them. Battles, funereal trains, +marriage ceremonies, shipwrecks, caves, and palaces, kings, heroes, +priests, men in singular costume, strange beasts, were delineated in +different alternations and connexions. Henry could not sate himself +with gazing at them, and wished nothing more than to remain with the +hermit, who irresistibly attracted him, and to be instructed by him in +these books. In the mean time the old man asked whether there were any +more caves; and the hermit told him, that there were some extensive +ones near, to which he would accompany him. The old man was ready; and +the hermit, who observed Henry's interest in the books, induced him to +remain, and to examine them more closely during their absence. Henry +was glad to stay where the books were, and thanked the hermit heartily +for his permission to do so. He turned over their leaves with +indescribable pleasure. At last a book fell into his hands, written in +a foreign tongue, which appeared to him somewhat like Latin or Italian. +He longed greatly to know the language, for the book pleased him +greatly, though he did not understand a syllable of it. It had no +title; but after a little search he found some engravings. They seemed +strangely familiar to him; and on examination, he discovered his own +form quite discernible among the figures. He was terrified, and thought +that he must be dreaming; but after having examined them again and +again, he could no longer doubt their perfect resemblance. He could +hardly trust his senses, when in one of the pictures he discovered the +cave, the hermit, and the old man by his side. By degrees he found +among the pictures the girl from the holy land, his parents, the count +and countess of Thuringia, his friend the court chaplain; and many +others of his acquaintance; yet their dress was changed, and seemed to +belong to another period. There were many forms he could not call by +name, but which nevertheless seemed known to him. He saw the exact +portraits of himself, in different situations. Towards the end he +appeared larger and nobler. The guitar rested in his arms, and the +countess handed him a wreath. He saw himself at the imperial court, on +shipboard, now in warm embrace with a beautifully formed and lovely +girl, now in battle with fierce-looking men, and again in friendly +conversation with Saracens and Moors. He was frequently accompanied by +a man of grave aspect. He felt a deep reverence for this august form, +and was glad to see himself arm in arm with him. The last pictures were +obscure and incomprehensible; yet some of the shapes of his dream +surprised him with the most intense rapture. The conclusion of the book +was wanting. Henry was very sorrowful, and wished for nothing more +earnestly than to be able to read and thoroughly understand the book. +He looked over the pictures repeatedly, and was almost abashed when the +company returned. A strange sort of shame overcame him. He did not +suffer himself to make known his discovery, and merely asked the Hermit +generally about its title and language. He learned that it was written +in the Provence tongue. + +"It is long since I have read it," said the Hermit; "I do not now +remember its contents very distinctly. As far as I recollect, it is a +romance, relating the wonderful fortune of a poet's life, wherein the +art of poesy is represented and extolled in all its various relations. +The conclusion is wanting to the manuscript, which I brought with me +from Jerusalem, where I found it left with a friend, and took it, away, +as a memorial of him." + +They now took leave of each other. Henry was moved to tears; the cave +had become so remarkable and the hermit so dear to him. + +All embraced the hermit heartily, and he himself seemed to have become +attached to them. Henry thought that he noticed his kind and +penetrating gaze fixed upon him. His farewell words to him were full of +meaning. He seemed to know of his discovery and to have reference to +it. He followed them to the entrance of the cave, after having +requested them, and particularly the boy, not to tell the farmers +concerning him, as it would only expose him to their troublesome +acquaintance. + +They all promised this. As they separated from him, and commended +themselves to his prayers, he said, + +"But a short time and we shall see each other again, to smile at the +conversation of this day. A heavenly dawn will surround us, and we +shall rejoice that we greeted each other kindly in this vale of +probation, and were inspired with like sentiments and anticipations. +There are angels who guide us here in safety. If your eye is fixed upon +Heaven, you will never lose the way to your home." + +They separated with a silent feeling of devotion, soon found their +timorous companions, and amid general conversation shortly reached the +village, where Henry's mother, who had been somewhat anxious about him, +received them with a thousand expressions of joy. + + + + + CHAPTER VI. + + +Men, who are born for business, for action, cannot too soon contemplate +for themselves and animate all things. They must themselves grapple +with and pass through many relations, must harden their whole being +against the influence of new situations, and the dissipation which a +multitude and variety of objects engenders; and they must accustom +themselves, even in the urgency of great occasions to hold fast to the +thread of their object. They should not yield to the invitations of +inactive contemplation. Their soul must not be gazing at self; it must +be ceaselessly directed to outward things, a handmaid to the +understanding, active and prompt in discrimination. They are heroes; +and events press about them which must be fulfilled, and their problems +solved. By their influence all occurrences of chance become history, +and their life is an unbroken chain of remarkable and splendid, +intricate and singular events. + +Far otherwise is it with those quiet, unknown men, whose world is their +own mind, whose activity the action of the contemplative intellect, and +whose life a gentle development of their inner powers. No desquietude +drives them to outward things. A tranquil possession satisfies them; +and the immense drama without does not entice them to engage in it +themselves; but they regard it as significant and wonderful, a source +of contemplation for their leisure moments. Longings for the spirit +hold them in the distance; and it is this spirit that destines them to +act the mysterious part of the mind in this human world, while others +represent the outer limbs and senses, the mind's projected powers. They +would be disturbed by great and various events. A simple life is their +lot, and they become acquainted with the rich subject-matter and +countless phenomena of the world from relations and writings alone. But +seldom in the course of their lives does any occurrence draw them along +with it in its sudden vortex, in order to acquaint them by a few +experiences more accurately with the situation and character of active +men. On the contrary, their susceptible minds are already sufficiently +busied with near and insignificant phenomena, which represent the great +world as it were renewed; and they will advance no step, without making +the most surprising discoveries in themselves, concerning the nature +and significance of these phenomena. They are poets, those men of rare +inspiration, who at times wander through our dwelling-place, and +everywhere renew the ancient, venerable, service of humanity, and of +its first gods,--the stars, spring, love, happiness, fertility, health, +and the joyous heart; they, who are already here in possession of +heavenly rest, and, driven about by no foolish desires, breathe only +the fragrance of earthly fruits, without devouring them, then to be +irrevocably chained to the lower world. They are free guests whose +golden feet tread softly, and whose presence involuntarily outspreads +its wings around. A poet may be known, like a good king, by cheerful +and bright faces, and he alone justly bears the name of sage. If you +compare him with heroes, you will find that the songs of the poets +frequently awake heroic courage in youthful hearts; but heroic deeds +have probably never awakened the spirit of poesy in any mind whatever. +Henry was a poet by nature. Many events seemed to conspire to aid his +development, and as yet nothing had disturbed the elasticity of his +soul. All that he saw and heard seemed only to remove new bars within +him, and to open new windows for his spirit. The world, with its great +and changing relations, lay before him. But as yet it was silent; and +its soul, its language was not yet awakened. Soon did a poet approach, +holding a lovely girl by the hand, that by the sound of the mother +tongue, and by the movement of a sweet and tender mouth; the soft lips +might unlock and the simple harmony unfold in unending melodies. + +The journey was now ended. It was towards evening when our travellers, +in safety and good spirits, arrived at the far-famed city of Augsburg, +and, full of expectation, rode through the high streets to the spacious +mansion of the old Swaning. + +The surrounding country had already appeared delightful to the eyes of +Henry. The animated bustle of the city, and the great houses of stone +affected him strangely, yet agreeably. He experienced a real pleasure +in thinking of his future abode. His mother was very much pleased to +see herself in her native city after her wearisome journey, soon to +embrace again her father and old acquaintances, to introduce Henry to +them, and for once be able quietly to forget all household cares in the +cordial remembrances of her youth. The merchants hoped by the pleasures +there to indemnify themselves for the discomforts of their journey, and +to do a profitable business. + +Lights gleamed from the house of the old Swaning, and joyous music +swelled towards them. "What will you bet," said the merchants, "that +your grandfather is not giving a merry party? We came as if invited. +How much his uninvited guests will astonish him. He is not dreaming +that now the true festivity is about to commence." Henry felt +embarrassed, and his mother was only anxious about their dress. They +alighted; the merchants remained with the horses, and Henry and his +mother entered the splendid mansion. Not a soul belonging to the house +was to be seen below. They were obliged to ascend the lofty stairs. +Some servants ran past them; they asked them to inform the old Swaning +of the arrival of some strangers who wished to speak with him. The +servants made some objection at first, for the travellers did not +appear in very good condition as to dress, yet finally they announced +them to the master of the house. The old Swaning came out. He did not +know them at first, and asked them their names and business. Henry's +mother wept and fell upon his neck. + +"Do you not know your own daughter?" she exclaimed weeping. "I bring +you my son." + +The aged father was extremely moved. He pressed her long to his bosom. +Henry sank upon his knee and tenderly kissed his hand. He raised him to +himself and held both mother and son in his embrace. + +"Come right in," said Swaning, "I have only my friends and +acquaintances here, who will rejoice with me." Henry's mother +hesitated, but had no time to consider. The father led them both into +the lighted hall. + +"Here I bring my daughter and grandson from Eisenach," cried Swaning, +in the merry crowd of gaily dressed guests. + +All eyes were turned towards the door; all ran to it; the music ceased, +and the two travellers stood bewildered and dazzled in their dusty +dresses, in the midst of the motley throng. A thousand joyful +exclamations passed from mouth to mouth. All her acquaintances pressed +around the mother. Innumerable were the questions which were asked. +Each one wished to be recognised and welcomed first. Whilst the elder +part of the company were attending to the mother, the attention of the +younger portion was directed to the strange youth, who was standing +with downcast eyes, not daring to look again upon the unknown faces. +His grandfather introduced him to the company, and inquired after his +father and about the occurrences of his journey. + +The mother thought of the merchants, who out of politeness had remained +below by the horses. She told her father, who sent down for them +immediately, and invited them to ascend. The horses were led into the +stable, and the merchants appeared. + +Swaning thanked them heartily for the friendly escort they had afforded +his daughter. They were acquainted with many who were present, and +exchanged friendly greetings. The mother asked permission to change her +dress. Swaning led her to her chamber, and Henry followed for the same +purpose. + +The appearance of one man was very striking to Henry, who thought that +he had seen him in that book. His noble bearing distinguished him from +all the rest. His face wore an expression of serene gravity, an open, +finely arched forehead, large, black, penetrating, and tranquil eyes, a +humorous expression about his pleasant mouth, and his full manly +proportions, gave to him a meaning and fascinating appearance. He was +strongly built, his movements quiet and expressive, and where he stood +he seemed about to stay forever. Henry asked his grandfather about him. + +"I am glad," said the old man, "that you noticed him. It is my +excellent friend Klingsohr, the poet. You should be prouder of his +acquaintance than of the emperor's. But how is your heart? He has a +beautiful daughter, who perhaps will surpass the father in your eyes. +It would be strange if you had not noticed her." + +Henry blushed; "my mind has been distracted, dear grandfather. The +company is numerous, and I was looking only at your friend." + +"We see that you came from the North," replied Swaning; "we shall soon +thaw you out here. You shall learn soon to look after pretty faces." + +They were now ready, and returned to the hall, where in the mean time +preparations for supper had been made. The old Swaning led Henry to +Klingsohr, and told him that Henry had noticed him particularly, and +ardently desired to become acquainted with him. + +Henry was confused. Klingsohr spoke kindly to him of his fatherland and +of his journey. There was so much to inspire confidence in his voice, +that Henry soon gained courage and conversed with him freely. After a +little while Swaning came to them again, bringing with him the +beautiful Matilda. + +"You must receive my grandson kindly, and pardon him that he has +noticed your father before you. Your bright eyes will awaken his youth +within him. In his native land Spring comes too late." + +Henry and Matilda blushed. They gazed admiringly upon each other. She +asked him, with scarcely audible words, whether he was fond of dancing. +While he was answering in the affirmative, the merry music struck up. +He silently offered her his hand; she accepted it, and they mingled +among the rows of waltzers. Swaning and Klingsohr looked on. The mother +and the merchants were delighted with Henry's grace and with his lovely +partner. The mother had enough to converse about with the friends of +her youth, who wished her much happiness from so well educated and +hopeful a son. + +Klingsohr said to Swaning,--"Your grandson has an attractive +countenance; it indicates a clear and comprehensive mind, and his voice +comes deep from his heart." + +"I hope," replied Swaning, "that he will become your docile pupil. It +seems to me that he is born for a poet. May your spirit fall upon him. +He looks like his father, only he seems more ardent and excitable. The +former was a youth of superior talents. He was wanting, however, in a +certain liberality of mind. He might have become something more than an +industrious and able mechanic." + +Henry wished that the dance would never end. With heartfelt pleasure +his eyes rested on the roses of his partner. Her innocent eye did not +avoid his. She appeared like the spirit of her father in the most +lovely disguise. Eternal youth spoke from her full and quiet eyes. Upon +a light blue ground lay the mild splendor of the brown stars. Her +forehead and nose were beautifully formed. Her face was like a lily +inclined towards the rising sun, and from her slender white neck, the +blue veins clung round her tender cheeks in gentle curves. Her voice +was like a distant echo, and her small head with its brown tresses +seemed but to hover over her airy form. + +Refreshments were brought in, and the dances closed. The elder people +seated themselves on one side, the younger on the other. + +Henry remained with Matilda. A young relative seated herself at his +left, and Klingsohr sat opposite him. If Matilda said but little, his +other neighbor, Veronika, was so much the more talkative. She +immediately played the familiar with him, and soon made him acquainted +with all present. Henry lost much of her conversation. He was still +with his partner, and wished to turn much oftener to the right. +Klingsohr made an end to their talking. He asked about the band with +the strange devices, which Henry had fastened to his coat. He told him +with much emotion of the girl from the holy land. Matilda wept; and now +Henry could scarcely hide his tears. For this reason he entered into +conversation with her. All were enjoying themselves, and Veronika joked +and laughed with her acquaintances. Matilda described Hungary, where +her father often dwelt, and the mode of life in Augsburg. The enjoyment +was at its height. The music put all restraint to flight, and all the +affections into a joyful play. Baskets of flowers in all their splendor +exhaled their odors upon the table, and the wine danced about between +the dishes and the flowers, shook its golden wings, and formed many +varied pictures between the guests and the world. Henry now understood +for the first time what was meant by a festival. A thousand happy +spirits seemed to gambol around the table, and to live in silent +sympathy with the joys of the happy people, and to intoxicate +themselves with their pleasures. The enjoyment of life stood before +him, like a tinkling tree full of golden fruits. Pain had vanished, and +it seemed impossible that ever human inclination should have turned +from this tree to the dangerous fruit of knowledge, the tree of strife. +He now learned what were wine and food. They tasted very richly to him. +A heavenly oil seasoned them for him, and from the beaker sparkled the +splendor of earthly life. Some of the maidens brought a fresh garland +to the old Swaning. He put it on, and kissing them, said, "You must +bring one also to our friend Klingsohr, and for thanks he will teach +you a couple of new songs. You shall have mine immediately. He beckoned +for the music to commence, and sang with a clear voice:-- + + "Surely life is most distressing, + And a mournful fate we meet! + Stress and need our only blessing, + Practised only in deceit; + And our bosoms never daring + To unfold their soft despairing. + + "What the elders all are telling, + To the youthful heart is waste; + Throes of longing are we feeling + The forbidden fruit to taste; + Would the gentle youths but deign us, + And believe that they could gain us! + + "Thinking so then are we sinning? + All our thoughts are duty-free. + What indeed to us remaining, + Wretched wights, but fantasy? + Do we strive our dreams to banish, + Never, never will they vanish. + + "When in prayer at even bending + Frightens us the loneliness, + Favor and desire are wending + Thitherward to our caress; + How disdain the fair offender, + Or resist the soft surrender? + + "Mothers stern our charms concealing, + Every day prescribe anew. + What availeth all our willing? + Spring they not again to view? + Warm desire is ever riving + Closest fetters with its striving. + + "Every impulse harshly spurning + Hard and cold to be as stone, + Never glances bright returning, + Close to be and all alone, + Heed to no entreaty giving,-- + Call you that the flower of living? + + "Ah, how great a maid's annoyance, + Sick and chafed her bosom is,-- + And to make her only joyance, + Withered lips bestow a kiss! + Will the leaf be turning never, + Elders' reign to end forever?" + +Both old and young laughed. The girls blushed and smiled aside. Amidst +a thousand railleries a second garland was brought and put upon +Klingsohr. They begged him, however, very earnestly not to give them +such a gay song. "No," said Klingsohr, "I will take good care not to +speak so lightly of your secrets; say yourselves what kind of a song +you would prefer." + +"Anything but a love song," cried the girls; "let it be a drinking song +if you like." Klingsohr sang:-- + + "On verdant mountain-side is growing + The god, who heaven to us brings; + The sun's own foster-child, and glowing + With all the fire its favor flings. + + "In Spring is he conceived with pleasure, + The bud unfolds in silent joy, + And mid the Autumn's harvest-treasure + Forth springs to life the golden boy. + + "Within his narrow cradle lying, + In vaulted rooms beneath the ground, + He dreams of feasts and banners flying + And airy castles all around. + + "Near to his dwelling none remaineth, + When chafeth he in restless strife, + And every hoop and fetter straineth + In all the pride of youthful life. + + "For viewless watchmen round are closing, + Until his lordly dreams are o'er, + With air-enveloped spears opposing + The loiterer near the sacred door. + + "So when unfold his sleeping pinions, + With sparkling eyes he greets the day, + Obeys in peace his priestly minions, + And forth he cometh when they pray. + + "From cradle's murky bosom faring, + He winketh through a crystal dress, + The rose of close alliance bearing, + Expressive in its ruddiness. + + "And everywhere around are pressing + His merry men in jubilee, + Their love find gratitude confessing + To him with jocund tongue and free. + + "He scatters o'er the fields and valleys + His innerlife in countless rays, + And Love is sipping from his chalice, + And pledged forever with him stays. + + "As spirit of the golden ages, + The Poet alway he beguiles, + Who everywhere in reeling pages + Doth celebrate his pleasant wiles. + + "He gave him, his allegiance sealing, + To every pretty mouth a right, + And this the god through him revealing, + That none the edict dare to slight." + +"A fine prophet!" exclaimed the girls. Swaning was heartily pleased. +They made some objections, but all to no purpose. They were obliged to +reach out their sweet lips to him. Henry blushed only on account of his +earnest neighbor; otherwise he would have loudly rejoiced in the +privilege of the poet. Veronika was among the garland bearers. She came +suddenly back and said to Henry, "truly, is it not a fine thing to be a +poet?" + +Henry did not trust himself to take advantage of this question. Excess +of joy and the earnestness of first love were contending in his breast. +The charming Veronika was joking with the others, and in the meanwhile +he found time somewhat to quench his joy. Matilda told him that she +played the guitar. "Ah!" said he, "how I should love to learn it from +you. I have for a long time desired it." + +"My father instructed me; he plays it matchlessly," said she blushing. + +"I believe, however," said Henry, "that I can learn it more easily from +you. How delighted I should be to hear you sing." + +"Do not expect too much." + +"O!" said Henry, "what may I not expect, since your speech merely is +song, and your form is expressive of heavenly music." + +Matilda was silent. Her father commenced a conversation, in which Henry +spoke with the most lively spirit. Those who were near wondered at the +fluency of the young man's speech, and the richness of his imagery. +Matilda gazed upon him with silent attention. She seemed to delight in +his words, which were still more clearly explained by his speaking +features. His eyes appeared unusually brilliant. He turned at times +towards Matilda, who was astonished by the expression of his face. In +the warmth of conversation, he involuntarily seized her hand, and she +could not but sanction much of what he said, with a gentle pressure. +Klingsohr knew how to keep up his enthusiasm, and gradually drew his +whole soul from his lips. At last all rose. There was a general +confusion. Henry remained by the side of Matilda. They stood apart +unobserved. He clasped her hand and kissed it tenderly. She suffered +him to hold it without opposition, and looked upon him with unspeakable +kindness. He could not restrain himself, bent towards her, and kissed +her lips. She was taken unawares and involuntarily returned his ardent +kiss. "Sweet Matilda,"--"Dear Henry,"--this was all they could say to +each other. She pressed his hand, and then mingled with her companions. +Henry stood as if in Heaven. His mother came to him. He told her all +concerning his love. + +"Is it not a good thing that we have visited Augsburg?" said she. "Does +it not in truth please you?" + +"Dear mother," said Henry, "I had not represented it to myself thus. It +is most glorious." + +The remainder of the evening passed away in infinite pleasure. The old +people played, talked, and observed the dancing. The music undulated +through the hall like a pleasure-sea, and bore along the enraptured +youth upon its surface. + +Henry felt the rapturous presages of the first buoyancy of love. +Matilda also willingly suffered herself to be carried away by the +flattering waves, and only concealed from him her tender trust, her +budding inclination, behind a light flower veil. The old Swaning +noticed the growing intimacy between them, and teazed them both about +it. Klingsohr had taken a liking to Henry, and was pleased with his +tenderness towards his daughter.--The other young men and girls soon +noticed it. They brought the sober Matilda forward with the young +Thuringian, and did not conceal that they were glad no longer to be +obliged to shun Matilda's observation of the secrets of their hearts. + +It was late in the evening when the company separated. "The first and +only feast of my life," said Henry, when he was alone, and his mother +had retired wearied to rest. "Do I not feel as I felt in that dream +about the blue flower? What peculiar connexion is there between Matilda +and that flower? That face, which bowed towards me from the petals, was +Matilda's heavenly countenance, and I also now remember that I saw it +in that book. But why did it not there thus move my heart? O! she is +the visible spirit of song, the worthy daughter of her father. She will +dissolve me into music. She will become my inmost soul, the guardian +spirit of my holy fire. What an eternity of faithful love do I feel +within me? I was born only to revere her, to serve her forever, to +think of and to feel her. Does there not belong a peculiar, undivided +existence to her contemplation and worship? Am I the happy one, whose +being may be the echo, the mirror of her's? It is not owing to chance +that I have seen her at the end of my journey, that a happy feast has +encircled the highest moment of my life. It could not have been +otherwise; for does not her presence render every thing a feast?" + +He stepped to the window. The choir of the stars stood in the dusky +sky, and in the east a white glimmer announced the coming day. + +Full of rapture, Henry exclaimed, "Ye eternal stars, ye silent +wanderers, I call upon you as witnesses of my sacred oath. For Matilda +will I live, and eternal constancy shall bind her to my heart. The +morning of eternal day is also opening for me. The night is past. I +kindle myself to the rising sun, for an inextinguishable offering." + +Henry was heated, and only fell asleep late in the morning. The +thoughts of his soul flowed together into a wonderful dream. A deep +blue stream glimmered from the green plains. A boat was floating upon +the smooth surface. Matilda was sitting in it, and steering. She was +adorned with garlands, singing a simple song, and looked over to him +with sweet sadness. His bosom was oppressed, he knew not why. The sky +was clear; the flood quiet. Her heavenly face was reflected in the +waves. Suddenly the boat began to whirl. He cried out to her earnestly. +She smiled and laid down the helm in the boat which continued its +whirling. He was seized with overwhelming fear. He plunged into the +stream, but could not move, and was hurried along. She beckoned to him, +as if she had something to tell him, and though the boat was fast +filling with water, yet she smiled with unspeakable tenderness, and +looked down serenely into the abyss. Suddenly it drew her in. A gentle +breath of air passed over the stream, which, flowed on as quiet and +glittering as ever. His intense anxiety robbed Henry of all +consciousness. His heart no longer throbbed. On recovering, his senses, +he was on the dry land. He must have floated a long distance. It was a +strange country. He knew not what had happened to him. His mind had +vanished. Thoughtlessly he plunged deeper and deeper into the country. +He was excessively weary. A little spring gushed from the side of a +hill, sounding like the music of bells. In his hand he caught +a few drops, and with them wetted his parched lips. The terrible +occurrence lay behind him like a fearful dream. He walked on farther +and farther;--flowers and trees spoke to him. + +Now he felt in high spirits and at home. He heard that song again. He +ran to the place whence the sounds proceeded. Suddenly some one held +him by the clothes. "Dear Henry," cried a well known voice. He looked +round, and Matilda clasped him in her arms. + +"Why did you run from me, dear heart," cried she panting. "I could +scarcely overtake you." + +Henry wept. He clasped her to himself, "Where is the stream?" cried he +with tears. + +"Do you not see its blue waves above us?" + +He looked up, and the blue stream was flowing gently over his head. + +"Where are we, dear Matilda?" + +"With our fathers." + +"Shall we remain together?" + +"Forever," she replied, while she pressed her lips to his, and so +embraced him that she could not tear herself from him. She put a +wondrous, secret word into his mouth, and it rang through his whole +being. He was about to repeat it, when his grandfather called, and he +awoke. He would have given his life to remember that word. + + + + + CHAPTER VII. + + +Klingsohr stood before his bed and kindly bade him good morning. He was +in high spirits, and fell upon Klingsohr's neck. "That is not meant for +you," cried Swaning. Henry smiled, and hid his blushes on his mother's +cheeks. + +"Would you like to go with me," said Klingsohr, "and breakfast on a +beautiful eminence just before the city? The fine morning would refresh +you. Dress yourself. Matilda is already waiting for us." + +Henry with a thousand joyful feelings thanked him for his welcome +invitation. In a moment he was ready, and kissed Klingsohr's hand with +much fervor. They went to Matilda, who looked wonderfully lovely in her +simple morning dress, and who greeted him kindly. She had already +packed her breakfast into a little basket which she hung upon one arm, +and without ceremony gave the other to Henry. Klingsohr followed them, +and thus they passed through the city, already full of animation, to a +little hill by the river, where a wide and full prospect opened between +some lofty trees. + +"Though I have often," said Henry, "delighted in the unfolding of +varied nature in the peaceful neighborhood of her manifold possessions; +yet never has such a creative and pure serenity filled me, as today. +Those distant points seem so near to me, and the rich landscape is like +an inward fantasy. How changeable is nature, however unchangeable +appears its surface! How different is it when an angel, a spirit of +power is at our side, than when a person in distress utters his +complaints before us, or a farmer tells us how unfortunate the weather +is for him, or how much he needs some rainy days for his crops. To you, +dearest master, do I owe this bliss; yes, this bliss,--for there is no +other word that can more truly express my heart's condition. Joy, +desire, transport, are merely the members of that bliss which inspires +them with a higher life." He pressed Matilda's hand to his heart, and +his ardent gaze sank deep into her mild and susceptible eyes. + +"Nature," replied Klingsohr, "is for our mind, what a body is for +light. It reflects it, separates it into its proper colors, kindles a +light on its surface or within it, when it equals its opacity: when it +is superior, it rays forth in order to enlighten other bodies. But even +the darkest bodies can, by water, fire, and air, be made clear and +brilliant." + +"I understand you, dear master. Men are crystals for our minds. They +are the transparent nature. Dear Matilda, I might call you a pure and +costly sapphire. You are clear and transparent as the heavens; you beam +with the mildest light. But tell me, dear master, whether I am right; +it seems to me that at the very point when one is most intimate with +nature, he can and would say the least concerning her." + +"That depends upon your view of her," said Klingsohr. "Nature is one +thing for our enjoyment and our disposition, but another for our +intellect, the guiding faculty of our earthward powers. We must take +good care not to lose sight of one more than the other. There are many +who only know the one side, and think but little of the other. But we +can unite them both, and that too with profit. A great pity it is, that +so few think of being able to move freely and fitly in their inner +natures, and to insure for themselves, by a necessary separation, the +most effectual and natural use of their faculties. Usually the one +hinders the other; and thus a helpless sluggishness gradually arises, +so that, if such men should ever arise with united powers, a great +confusion and contention would ensue, and all things would be tossed +here and there in an ungainly manner. I cannot sufficiently impress +upon you, to endeavor with industry and care to be acquainted with your +own intellect and natural bias. Nothing is more indispensable to the +poet, than insight into the nature of every occupation, acquaintance +with the means by which every object may be attained, and the power of +fitly regulating the presence of the spirit according to time and +circumstances. Inspiration without intellect is useless and dangerous; +and the poet will be able to perform few wonders, when he is astonished +by wonders." + +"But is not an implicit faith in man's dominion over destiny +indispensable to the poet?" + +"Certainly indispensable, because he cannot represent fate to himself +in any other light, when he maturely reflects upon it. But how distant +is this calm certainty from that anxious doubt, which proceeds from the +blind fear of superstition! And thus also the steady, animating warmth +of a poetic mind is exactly the reverse of the wild heat of a sickly +heart. The one is poor, overwhelming, and transient; the other +perfectly distinguishes all forms, favors the culture of the most +manifold relations, and is in itself eternal. The youthful poet cannot +be too cool and considerate. A far-reaching, attentive, and quiet +disposition belongs to the true, melodious ease of address. It becomes +a confused prattling, when a violent storm is raging in the breast; and +the attention is lost in a trembling emptiness of thought. Once more I +repeat it; the true mind is like the light; even as calm and sensitive, +as elastic and penetrating, as powerful and as imperceptibly active, as +that costly element, which with its native regularity scatters itself +upon all objects, and exhibits them in charming variety. The poet is +pure steel, as sensitive as a brittle thread of glass, as hard as the +unyielding flint." + +"I have indeed at times felt," said Henry, "that in the moments when my +inner nature was most awake, I was less excited than at other times, +when I could run about freely and attend to all occupations with +pleasure. A spiritual, penetrative essence permeated me, and I could +employ every sense at pleasure, could revolve every thought like an +actual body, and view it from all sides. I stood with silent sympathy +in my father's work-shop, and rejoiced when I could help him to +accomplish anything properly. Propriety has a peculiarly strengthening +charm, and it is true that the consciousness of it gives rise to a more +lasting and distinct enjoyment, than that overflowing feeling of an +incomprehensible, superfluous splendor." + +"Believe not," said Klingsohr, "that I disregard the latter; but it +must come of itself and not be bought. The rarity of its appearance is +beneficent; if more frequent, it would weary and weaken. One cannot +quickly enough tear himself from the sweet rapture which it leaves +behind, and return to a regular and laborious occupation. It is as with +pleasant morning dreams, from whose sleepy vortex one must extricate +himself by force, if he would not fall into a lassitude, continually +more oppressive, and so struggle through the whole day in sickly +exhaustion." + +"Poetry," continued Klingsohr, "will be cultivated strictly as an art. +As mere enjoyment it ceases to be poetry. The poet must not run about +unoccupied the whole day in chase of figures and feelings. That is the +very reverse of the proper method. A pure, open mind, dexterity in +reflection and contemplation, and ability to put forth all the +faculties in a mutually animating effort, and to keep them so,--these +are the requisites of our art. If you will commit yourself to my care, +no day shall pass in which you shall not add stores to your knowledge, +and obtain some useful views. The city is rich in artists of all +descriptions. There are some experienced statesmen and educated +merchants here. One can get acquainted with all ranks without much +difficulty, with people of all pursuits, and with all social +circumstances and requirements. I will with pleasure instruct you in +the mechanical part of our art, and read its most remarkable +productions with you. You may share Matilda's hours of instruction, and +she will willingly teach you to play the guitar. Each occupation will +usher in the rest; and when you have thus well spent the day, the +conversation and pleasures of a social evening, and the views of the +beautiful landscapes around, will continually renew to you the calmest +enjoyment." + +"What a glorious life you here lay open to me, dear master. Under your +guidance I shall for the first time understand what a noble mark is +before me, and how by your counsel alone I can hope to attain it." + +Klingsohr embraced him tenderly. Matilda brought them the breakfast, +and Henry asked her with a tender voice, whether she would be kind +enough to receive him as fellow pupil, and her own scholar. "I shall +probably be your scholar forever," said he, as Klingsohr turned away. +She nodded slightly towards him. He threw his arms around the blushing +maiden, and kissed her soft lips. Gently she retreated from him, yet +handed him with childish grace a rose which she wore in her bosom. She +then busied herself about her basket. Henry watched her with silent +rapture, kissed the rose, fixed it on his breast, and walked to +Klingsohr's side, who was gazing down at the city. + +"By what road, did you come here," asked Klingsohr. + +"Down over that hill," replied Henry, "where the road loses itself in +the distance." + +"You must have seen some fair landscapes." + +"We travelled through an almost uninterrupted series of beautiful +ones." + +"Perhaps your native town is pleasantly situated?" + +"The country is varied enough; it is rude, however, and a noble river +is wanting. Streams are the eyes of a landscape." + +"Your account of your journey," said Klingsohr, "agreeably entertained +me last evening. I have indeed observed that the spirit of poesy is +your kind companion. Your friends have unobservedly become its voices. +Where a poet is, poetry everywhere breaks out. The land of poetry, +romantic Palestine, has greeted you with its sweet sadness; war has +addressed you in its wild glory, and nature and history have met you in +the forms of a miner and a hermit." + +"You forget the best, dear master, the heavenly appearance of love. It +depends upon you, whether this appearance shall forever remain with +me." + +"What do you think," cried Klingsohr as he turned to Matilda who was +just approaching; "would you like to become Henry's inseparable +companion? Where you are, I remain also." + +Matilda was terrified. She flew into her father's arms. Henry trembled +with infinite joy. "Shall he then be with me forever, dear father?" + +"Ask him for yourself," said Klingsohr with emotion. + +She looked upon Henry with the most heart-felt tenderness. + +"My eternity is indeed thy work," cried Henry, whilst the tears rolled +down his blooming cheeks. + +They embraced each other. Klingsohr caught them in his arms. "My +children," he cried, "be faithful to each other unto death! Love and +constancy will make your life eternal poesy." + + + + + CHAPTER VIII. + + +In the afternoon Klingsohr led to his room his new son, in whose +happiness his mother and grandfather took the tenderest interest, +honoring Matilda as his protecting spirit, and made him acquainted with +his books. Afterward they spoke of poetry. + +"I know not," said Klingsohr, "why the representation of nature as a +poet is commonly considered poetry. She is not so at all times. Dull +desire, stupid apathy and sluggishness, are in her, as in men, exposing +qualities which wage a restless strife with poesy. This mighty battle +would be a fine subject for a poem. Many lands and ages seem, like the +majority of men, to stand entirely under the dominion of this enemy to +poesy; in others, on the contrary, poesy is at home and everywhere +visible. The periods of this battle are very worthy of the historian's +notice, and its representation is a pleasant and profitable employment. +It is usually the season of the poet's birth. Nothing is more +disagreeable to its adversary than that she, herself being opposed to +poesy, becomes a poetic personage, and often in the heat of the +engagement changes weapons with poesy, and is violently struck by her +own venomous darts; while, on the other hand, the wounds of poesy, +which she receives from her own weapons, heal readily, and only serve +to render her yet more charming and powerful." + +"On the whole," said Henry, "war seems to me poetical. People fancy +that they must fight for a possession no matter how miserable, and do +not observe that the spirit of romance excites them to annihilate all +useless baseness. They carry arms for the cause of poesy, and both +hosts follow an invisible standard." + +"In war," replied Klingsohr, "the primeval fluid is stirred up. New +continents are to arise, new races to spring forth from the great +dissolution. The true war is the war of religion; its direct end is +destruction; and men's madness appears in its full dimensions. Many +wars, particularly those which originate in national hate, belong to +this class, and are real poems. Here true heroes are at home, who, +being the noblest antitypes of poesy, are but earthly powers +involuntarily penetrated by poesy. A poet, who at the same time were a +hero, would be indeed a heavenly messenger; but our poetry is not equal +to the work of representing him." + +"How am I to understand that, dear father," said Henry. "Can any object +be too lofty for poesy?" + +"Certainly. We cannot on the whole speak for poesy itself, but only for +her earthly means and instruments. If indeed there is for every single +poet a proper district within which he must remain, in order not to +lose all breath and vantage, then there is also for the whole sum of +human powers a determinate boundary line to the capacity for +representation; beyond which representation cannot retain the necessary +strength or form, but loses itself in an empty, delusive nonentity. +Particularly as a pupil, one cannot guard enough against these +extravagances; since a lively fancy loves too well to fly to the +extreme bounds, and arrogantly endeavors to seize upon and express the +supersensual and exuberant. Riper experience first teaches us to shun +this disproportion of objects, and to leave the investigation of what +is simplest and loftiest to worldly wisdom. The older poet rises no +higher than is needful to arrange, his vast stock in a comprehensible +order, and he is careful to omit the manifoldness, which afforded him +the requisite material, and also the necessary points of agreement. I +might almost say that in every line chaos should shine through the +well-clipped foliage of order. A graceful style merely renders the +richness of the thought more comprehensible and agreeable; regular +symmetry, on the contrary, has all the dryness of numbers. The best +poesy lies very near us, and an ordinary matter is not seldom the +object of its most tender love. With the poet, poetry is confined to +limited instruments, and just so far becomes an art. Language +especially has its fixed sphere. The compass of one's native tongue is +yet narrower. By practice and reflection the poet learns to understand +his own language. He knows exactly what he can accomplish by its aid, +and will make no fruitless attempt to strain it beyond its powers. +Seldom will he collect all its powers upon a single point; for +otherwise he becomes wearisome, and even destroys the rich effect of a +well applied exhibition of its strength. No poet, but a quack, aims at +wonderful efforts."[See Note III.] + + +"Poets on the whole cannot learn too much from musicians and painters. +In these arts it is very striking, how necessary it is to take sparing +advantage of the auxiliary means of the art, and how much depends upon +proper relations. Those artists, on the contrary, can certainty accept +from us the poetic independence, and the inner spirit of each +composition and invention; particularly of every genuine work. The +execution, not the material, is the object of the art. They should be +more poetical, we more musical and graphic; yet both according to the +manner and method of our art. You yourself will soon see in what songs +you can best succeed; they will certainly be those, the subjects of +which are easiest and nearest at hand. Therefore it can be said that +poetry rests entirely upon experience. I know that in my younger days +an object could hardly seem too distant and too unknown, for such I +delighted most to sing. What was the result? An empty, meagre flash of +words, without a spark of true poetry. Thence the tale[3] is the most +difficult of tasks, and a young poet will seldom perform it correctly." + +"I should like to hear one of yours," said Henry. "The few I have +heard, though insignificant, have delighted me exceedingly." + +"I will satisfy your wish this evening. I remember one which I composed +when quite young, which is sufficiently evident still; yet it will +entertain you the more instructively, for it will recall much that I +have told you." + +"Language," said Henry, "is indeed a little world in signs and sounds. +As man rules over it, so would he rule the great world, and in it +express himself freely. And in this very joy of expressing in the world +what is without it, and of doing that which in reality was the primal +object of our existence, lies the origin of poetry." + +"It is very unfortunate," said Klingsohr, "that poetry has a particular +name, and that poets constitute a particular class. It is not, however, +strange. It arises from the natural action of the human sprit. Does not +every man strive and compose at every moment?" + +Just then Matilda entered the room. Klingsohr continued. "Consider +love, for instance. In nothing is the necessity of poetry for the +continuance of humanity so clear as in that. Love is silent; poesy +alone can speak for it. Or rather love itself is nothing but the +highest poetry of nature. Yet I will not tell you of things, with which +you are better acquainted than I." + +"Thou art indeed the father of love;" cried Henry, as he threw his arms +around Matilda, and they both kissed his hand. + +Klingsohr embraced them and went out. + +"Dear Matilda," said Henry after a long kiss, "it seems to me like a +dream, that thou art mine; yet it seems still more wonderful, that thou +hast not been so always." + +"It seems to me," said Matilda, "that I knew thee long, long ago." + +"Canst thou then love me?" + +"I know not what love is; but this can I tell thee, that it is as if I +now first began to live, and that I am so devoted to thee that I would +this instant die for thee." + +"My Matilda, now for the first time do I feel what it is to be +immortal." + +"Dear Henry, how infinitely good thou art. What a glorious spirit +speaks from thee. I am a poor, insignificant girl." + +"How thou dost make me blush! Indeed I am what I am only through thee. +Without thee I were nothing. What were a spirit without a heaven; and +thou art the heaven that upbears and supports me." + +"How divinely happy should I be, wert thou as faithful as my father. My +mother died shortly after my birth; yet my father weeps for her every +day." + +"I deserve it not, yet may I be happier than he!" + +"I would joyfully live long by thy side, dear Henry. Certainly through +thee I should become much better." + +"O! Matilda, even death shall not separate us." + +"No, Henry, where I am, wilt thou be." + +"Yes, where thou art, Matilda, will I forever be." + +"I comprehend not the meaning of eternity; yet I fancy that what I +feel, when I think of thee, must constitute eternity." + +"Yes, Matilda, we are eternal, because we love each other." + +"Thou canst not believe, dearest, how fervently, when we came home +early this morning, I knelt before the image of the holy mother, what +unspeakable things I prayed to her. I thought that I should melt away +in tears. It seemed as if she smiled upon me. I now for the first time +know what gratitude is." + +"O beloved, Heaven has given me thee to adore. I worship thee. Thou art +the holy one that carriest my wishes to God, through whom He reveals +himself to me, through whom He makes known to me the fulness of His +love. What is religion but an infinite harmony, an eternal unison of +loving hearts? Where two are gathered together, He is indeed among +them. Thou wilt be my breath eternally. My bosom will never cease to +draw thee to itself. Thou art divine majesty, eternal life in the +loveliest of forms." + +"Alas, Henry, thou knowest the fate of the roses. Wilt thou also press +the pale cheek, the withered lips, with tenderness to thy own? Will not +the traces of age be also the traces of bygone love?" + +"O that thou couldst see through my eyes into my spirit! But thou +lovest me, and canst also believe me. I cannot comprehend what is said +of the withering of charms. They are unfading! That which draws me so +inseparably to thee, that has awakened in me such everlasting desire, +is not of this world. Couldst thou but see how thou appearest to me, +what a wonderful form penetrates thy shape, and everywhere is raying +towards me, thou wouldst not fear age. Thy earthly shape is but a +shadow of this form. The earthly faculties strive and swell that they +may incarnate it; but nature is yet unripe; the form is only an eternal +archetype, a fragment of the unknown holy world." + +"I understand thee, dear Henry, for I see something similar when I look +upon thee." + +"Yes, Matilda, the higher world is nearer to us than we usually +believe. Here already we live in it, and we see it closely interwoven +with our earthly nature." + +"Thou wilt yet reveal much that is glorious to me, beloved?" + +"O! Matilda, from thee alone cometh the gift of divination. Everything +that I have is indeed thine. Thy love will lead me into the sanctuaries +of life, and the most sacred recesses of the mind; thou wilt fill me +with enthusiasm, wilt excite me to the highest contemplation. Who knows +that our love will not change to wings of flame bearing us upward, and +carrying us to our heavenly home, ere old age and death reach us? Is it +not a miracle already that thou art mine, that I hold thee in my arms, +that thou lovest me, and that thou wilt be mine forever?" + +"To me also everything seems possible, and I plainly feel a gentle +flame kindling within me. Who knows that it does not transfigure us, +and gradually dissolve all earthly ties? Only tell me, Henry, whether +thou hast that boundless confidence in me, that I have in thee. Yet I +never have felt towards any one as I do towards thee; not even to my +father, whom I love so dearly." + +"Dear Matilda, it really torments me, that I cannot tell thee +everything at once, that I cannot at once give my whole heart to thee. +For the first time in my life am I perfectly frank. No thought, no +feeling can I longer conceal from thee,--thou must know everything. My +whole being shall mingle itself with thine. A most boundless +resignation to thee can alone satisfy my love. In that indeed it +consists. It is truly a most mysterious flowing together of our most +secret and personal existence." + +"Henry, two beings can never thus have loved each other." + +"I cannot believe it possible, for till now no Matilda has lived." + +"And no Henry!" + +"Swear to me once more that thou art mine. Love is an endless +repetition." + +"Yes, Henry, by the invisible presence of my good mother, I swear to be +thine forever." + +"I swear to be thine forever, Matilda, as surely as love, God's +presence, is with us." + +A long embrace and countless kisses sealed the eternal alliance of the +blessed pair. + + + + + CHAPTER IX. + + +At evening some guests were present; the grandfather drank the health +of the young bridal pair, and promised to give them soon a splendid +marriage feast. "Of what use is long waiting?" said the old man. "Early +marriages make long love. I have always observed that marriages early +contracted were the happiest. In latter years there is no longer such a +devotion in the marriage relation as in youth. Youth, enjoyed in +common, forms an inseparable tie. Memory is the safest ground of love." + +After the meal more people came in. Henry asked his new father to +fulfil his promise. Klingsohr said to the company, "I have promised +Henry to-day to relate a tale. If it would please you I am ready to do +so." + +"That was a wise idea of Henry's," said Swaning. "We have heard nothing +from you for a long time." + +All seated themselves by the fire, which was sparkling on the hearth. +Henry sat by Matilda, and stole his arm around her. Klingsohr began. + +"The long night had just set in. The old hero struck his shield, so +that it resounded far through the solitary streets of the city. Thrice +he repeated the signal. Then the lofty, many-colored windows of the +palace began to shed abroad their light, and their figures were put in +motion. They moved the more quickly, as the ruddy stream which began to +illumine the streets became stronger. Also by degrees the immense +pillars and walls began to shine. At length they stood in the purest +milk-blue glimmer, and flickered with the softest colors. The whole +region was now visible, and the reflection of the figures, the clashing +of the spears, swords, shields, and helmets, which bowed from all sides +towards crowns appearing here and there, and finally closed round a +simple green garland in a wide circle, as the crowns vanished before +it; all this was reflected from the frozen sea that surrounded the hill +on which the city stood,--and even the far distant mountain range, +which girdled the sea, was half enwrapped with a mildly reflected +splendor. Nothing could be plainly distinguished; yet a strange sound +was heard, as if from an immense workshop in the distance. The city, on +the contrary, was light and clear. Its smooth transparent walls +reflected the beautiful beams; and the perfect symmetry, the noble +style, and fine arrangement of all the buildings were well defined. +Before every window stood earthern pots with ornaments, full of every +variety of ice and snow flowers, which sparkled most brilliantly. + +"But fairest of all appeared the garden upon the great square in front +of the palace, consisting of metal plants and crystal trees, hung with +varied jewel-blossoms and fruits. The manifold and delicate shapes, the +lively lights and colors, formed a lordly spectacle, made still more +magnificent by a lofty fountain, frozen in the midst of the garden. The +old hero walked slowly past the palace doors. A voice from within +called his name. He turned towards the door, which opened with a gentle +sound, and stepped into the hall. His shield was held before his eyes. + +"'Hast thou yet discovered nothing,' plaintively cried the beautiful +daughter of Arcturus. She lay on silken cushions, upon a throne +artfully fashioned from a huge pyrite-crystal, and some maidens were +assiduously chafing her tender limbs, which seemed a rare union of milk +and purple. On all sides streamed from beneath the hands of the maidens +that charming light, which so wondrously illuminated the palace. A +perfumed breeze was waving through the hall. The hero was silent. + +"'Let me touch thy shield,' said she softly. + +"He approached the throne and stepped upon the costly carpet. She +seized his hand, pressed it with tenderness to her heavenly bosom, and +touched his shield. His armor resounded, and a penetrating force +inspired his frame. His eyes flashed, and the heart beat loudly against +his breastplate. The beautiful Freya appeared more serene, and the +light that streamed from her became more brilliant. + +"'The king is coming,' cried a splendid bird that was perched behind +the throne. The attendants threw an azure veil over the princess, which +concealed her heaving bosom. The hero lowered his shield, and looked +upward to the dome, whither two broad staircases wound from each side +of the hall. Soft music preceded the king, who soon appeared in the +dome, and descended with a numerous train. + +"The beautiful bird unfolded its shining wings, and gently fluttering, +sang to the king as with a thousand voices: + + "The stranger fair delay no longer maketh. + Warmth draweth near, Eternity begins. + From long and tedious dreams the Queen awaketh, + When land in eddying love with ocean spins. + Her farewell hence the chilly midnight taketh, + When Fable first the ancient title wins. + The world will kindle upon Freya's breast, + And every longing in its longing rest." + +The King embraced his daughter with tenderness. The spirits of the +stars surrounded the throne, and the hero took his place in the order. +A numerous crowd of stars filled the hall in splendid groups. The +attendants brought a table and a little casket, containing a heap of +leaves, upon which were inscribed mystic figures of deep significance, +constructed of constellations. The king reverently kissed these leaves, +mixed them carefully together, and handed some to his daughter; the +rest he kept. The princess placed them in a row upon the table; then +the king closely examined his own, and chose with much reflection +before he added one to them. At times he seemed forced to choose this +or that leaf. But often his joy was evident, when he could complete by +a lucky leaf a beautiful harmony of signs and figures. As the play +commenced, tokens of the liveliest sympathy were visible among all the +by-standers, accompanied by peculiar looks and gestures, as if each one +had an invisible instrument in his hands which he plied diligently. At +the same time a gentle but deeply moving music was heard in the air, +seeming to arise from the stars gliding past each other in a wondrous +motion, and from the other movements so peculiar. The stars floated +round, now slowly, now quickly, in continually changing lines, and +curiously imitated, to the swell of the music, the figures on the +leaves. The music changed incessantly with the images upon the table; +and though the transitions were often strange and intricate, yet a +simple theme seemed to unite the whole. With incredible adroitness the +stars flew together according to the images. Now in great confusion, +but now again beautifully arranged in single clusters, and now the long +train was suddenly scattered, like a ray, into innumerable sparks, but +soon came together, through smaller circles and patterns ever +increasing, into one great figure of surprising beauty. The varied +shapes in the windows remained all this time at rest. The bird +unceasingly ruffled its costly plumage in every variety of form. +Hitherto the old hero had also pursued an unseen occupation, when +suddenly the king full of joy exclaimed, "all is well. Iron, throw thy +sword into the world, that it may know where peace rests." + +The hero snatched the sword from his thigh, raised it with the point to +heaven, and hurled it from the window over the city and the icy sea. It +flew through the air like a comet, and seemed to penetrate the mountain +chain with a clear report, as it fell downward in brilliant flakes of +fire. + +At this time the beautiful child Eros lay in his cradle and slumbered +gently, whilst Ginnistan his nurse rocked him, and held out her breast +to his foster-sister Fable. She had spread her variegated wimple over +the cradle, so that the bright lamp which stood before the scribe might +not trouble the child. Busily he wrote, at times looking morosely at +the children, and gloomily towards the nurse, who smiled upon him +kindly and kept silence. + +The father of the children walked in and out continually, at each turn +gazing upon them, and greeting Ginnistan kindly. He always had +something to dictate to the scribe. The latter observed his words +exactly, and when he had written, handed them to an aged and venerable +woman, who was leaning on an altar, where stood a dark bowl of clear +water, into which she looked with serene smiles. When she dipped the +leaves in the water, and found on withdrawing them, that some of the +writing remained still glittering, she gave them to the scribe, who +fastened them in a great book, and seemed much out of humor when his +labor had been in vain, and all the writing had been obliterated. The +woman turned at times towards Ginnistan and the children, and dipping +her finger in the bowl, sprinkled some drops upon them, which, as soon +as they touched the nurse, the child, or the cradle, dissolved into a +blue vapor, exhibiting a thousand strange images, and floating and +changing constantly around them. If one of these by chance touched the +scribe, many figures and geometrical diagrams fell down, which he +strung with much diligence upon a thread, and hung them for an ornament +around his meagre neck. The child's mother, who was sweetness and +loveliness itself, often came in. She seemed to be constantly occupied, +always carrying with her some domestic utensil. If the prying scribe +observed it, he began a long reproof, of which no one took any notice. +All seemed accustomed to his fruitless fault-finding. The mother +sometimes gave the breast to little Fable, but was soon called away, +and Ginnistan took the child back again, for it seemed to love her +best. Suddenly the father brought in a small slender rod of iron, which +he had found in the court. The scribe looked at it, twirled it round +quickly, and soon discovered, that being suspended from the middle by a +thread, it turned of itself to the north. Ginnistan also took it in her +hand, bent it, pressed it, breathed upon it, and soon gave it the form +of a serpent biting, its own tail. The scribe was soon weary of looking +at it. He wrote down everything that had occurred, and was very diffuse +about the utility of such a discovery. But how vexed was he when all he +had written did not stand the proof, and when the paper came blank from +the bowl. The nurse continued to play with it. She chanced to touch +with it the cradle; the child awoke, threw off his covering, and +holding one hand towards the light, reached after the serpent with the +other. As soon as he received it, he leaped so quickly from the cradle +that Ginnistan was frightened, and the scribe fell nearly out of his +chair from wonder; the child stood in the chamber, covered only by his +long golden hair, and gazed with speechless joy upon the prize, which +pointed in his hands, towards the North, and seemed to awake within him +deep emotion. He grew visibly. + +"Sophia," said he with a touching voice to the woman, "let me drink +from the bowl." + +She gave it him without delay, and he could not cease drinking; yet the +bowl continued full. At last he returned it, while embracing the good +woman heartily. He pressed Ginnistan to his heart, and asked her for +the variegated cloth, which he bound becomingly around his thigh. He +took little Fable in his arms. She appeared greatly to delight in him, +and began to prattle. Ginnistan devoted all her attention to him. She +looked exceedingly charming and gay, and pressed him to herself with +the tenderness of a bride. She led him with whispered words to the +chamber door, but Sophia nodded earnestly and pointed to the serpent. +Just then the mother entered, to whom he immediately flew, and with +warm tears welcomed her. The scribe had departed in anger. The father +entered: and as he saw mother and son in silent embrace, he approached +the charming Ginnistan behind them and caressed her. Sophia ascended +the stairs. Little Fable took the scribe's pen and began to write. +Mother and son were deeply engaged in conversation. The father availed +himself of the opportunity, and lavished many a tender word and look +upon Ginnistan, who returned them willingly; and in their sweet +interchange of love, both the presence or absence of any was forgotten. +After some time Sophia returned, and the scribe entered. He drove +little Fable with many rebukes from his seat, and took a long time to +put his things in order. He handed to Sophia the leaves that Fable had +written over, that they might be returned clean; but his displeasure +was extreme, when Sophia drew the writing brilliant and uneffaced from +the bowl, and laid it before him. Fable clang to her mother, who took +her to her breast, and put the chamber in order, opened the windows for +the fresh air, and made preparations for a costly meal. A beautiful +landscape was visible from the windows, and a serene sky overarched the +earth. The father was busily employed in the court. When he was weary, +he looked up towards the window, where Ginnistan stood and threw to him +all sorts of sweetmeats. Mother and son went out in order to assist in +any manner, and to prepare for the resolution they had taken. The +scribe twitched his pen, and always made a wry face, when he was forced +to ask any information of Ginnistan, who had a good memory and +recollected everything that transpired. Eros soon returned, clad in +beautiful armor, round which the varigated cloth was wound like a +scarf. He asked Sophia's advice as to when and how he should commence +his journey. The scribe was very troublesome, and wanted to furnish him +with a complete traveller's guide, but his instructions were not +regarded. + +"You can commence your journey immediately," said Sophia, "Ginnistan +can guide you. She knows the road and is acquainted everywhere. She +will take the form of your mother, that she may not lead you into +temptation. If you find the king, think of me; for then I shall soon +come to assist you." + +Ginnistan exchanged forms with the mother, whereat the father seemed +much pleased. The scribe was rejoiced that they were both going away; +particularly when Ginnistan on taking leave presented him with a +pocket-book, in which the chronicles of the house were circumstantially +recorded. Yet the little Fable remained a thorn in his eye, and he +desired nothing more for his peace and content, than that she might +also be among the number of the travellers. Sophia pronounced a +blessing upon the two who knelt down before her, and gave them a vessel +full of water from the bowl. The mother was very sad. Little Fable, +would willingly have gone with them; the father was too much occupied +out of doors, to concern himself much about it. It was night when they +left, and the moon stood high in the sky. + +"Dear Eros," said Ginnistan, "we must hasten, that we may come to my +father, who has not seen me for a long time, and has fought for me +anxiously everywhere upon earth. Do you not see his emaciated face? +Your testimony will cause him to recognise me in this strange form." + + Love hies along in dusky ways, + The moon his only light; + The shadow-realm itself displays, + And all uncouthly dight. + + An azure mist with golden rim + Around him floats in play, + And quickly Fancy hurries him + O'er stream and land away. + + His teeming bosom beating is + In wondrous spirit-flow; + A presagement of future bliss + Bespeaks the ardent glow. + + And Longing sat and wept aloud, + Nor knew that Love was near; + And deeper in her visage ploughed + The hopeless sorrow's tear. + + The little snake remaineth true, + It pointeth to the North, + And both in trust and courage new + Their leader follow forth. + + Love hieth through the hot Simoon, + And through the vapor-land, + Enters the halo of the moon, + The daughter in his hand. + + He sat upon his silver throne, + Alone with his unrest; + When heareth he his daughter's tone, + And sinketh on her breast. + +Eros stood deeply moved by their tender embrace. At length the +tottering old man collected himself and bade his guest welcome. He +seized his great horn and blew a mighty blast. The ringing echo +vibrated through the ancient castle. The pointed towers with their +shining balls, and the deep black roofs, trembled. + +The castle stood firm, for it had settled upon the mountain from beyond +the deep sea. + +Servants were gathering from every quarter; their peculiar forms and +dresses delighted Ginnistan infinitely, and did not frighten the brave +Eros. They first greeted her old acquaintances, and all appeared before +them in new strength, and in all the glory of their natures. The +impetuous spirit of the flood followed the gentle ebb. The old +hurricanes rested upon the beating breast of the hot, passionate +earthquake. The gentle showers looked around for the many-colored bow +which stood so pallid, far from the sun that most attracts it. The rude +thunder resounded through the play of the lightning, behind the +innumerable clouds which stood in a thousand charms, and allured the +fiery youth. The two sisters Morning and Evening were especially +delighted by their arrival. Tears of tenderness were mingled in their +embraces. Indescribable was the appearance of this wonderful court. The +old king could not gaze long enough upon his daughter. She was tenfold +happy in her father's castle, and could not grow weary of looking at +the well known wonders and rarities. Her joy was unspeakable, when the +king gave her the key to the treasure-chamber, and permission to +arrange there a spectacle for Eros, which could entertain him until the +signal for breaking up. The treasure-place was a large garden, the +variety and richness of which surpassed all description. Between the +immense cloud-trees lay innumerable air-castles of surprising +architecture, each succeeding one more costly than the others. Large +herds of little sheep with silver-white, golden, and rose-colored wool, +were wandering about, and the most singular animals enlivened the +grove. Remarkable pictures stood here and there, and the festive +processions, the strange carriages which met the eye on every side, +continually occupied the attention. The beds were filled with +many-colored flowers. The buildings were crowded with every species of +weapon, and furnished with the most beautiful carpets, tapestry, +curtains, drinking-cups, and all kinds of furniture and utensils +arranged in an endless order. From the hill they saw a romantic region +overspread with cities and castles, temples and sepulchres; every +delight of inhabited plains united to the fertile charms of the +wilderness and the mountain steep. The fairest colors were most happily +blended. The mountain peaks shone like pyramids of fire in their hoods +of ice and snow. The plain lay smiling in the freshest green. The +distance was arrayed in every shade of blue, and from the sombre bosom +of the sea waved countless pennons of varied hue from numerous fleets. +In the distance a shipwreck was to be seen; here in the foreground a +rustic cheerful meal of country people; there the terribly grand +eruption of a volcano, the desolating earthquake; and in front beneath +shady trees a loving couple in sweet caresses. Further on was a fearful +battle, and beyond it a theatre full of the most ludicrous masks. In +another spot of the foreground was a youthful corpse upon its bier, to +which an inconsolable lover clung, and the weeping parents at its side; +beyond was seen a lovely mother with her child at her breast, and +angels sitting at her feet, and gazing from the branches over head. The +series were continually shifting, and at last all flowed together into +one mysterious picture. Heaven and earth were in complete uproar. All +terrors had broken loose. A mighty voice cried, "to arms!" A terrible +host of skeletons, with black standards, rushed like a tempest from the +dark mountain, and attacked the life which was feasting merrily in +youthful bands among the open plains, anticipating no danger. Terrible +tumults arose, the earth trembled, the tempest howled, fearful meteors +lighted the gloom. With unheard of cruelty, the host of phantoms tore +the tender limbs of the living. A funeral pyre towered on high, and +amid shrieks which made the blood run cold, the children of life were +consumed by the flames. Suddenly a milk-blue stream broke on all sides +from the dark heap of ashes. The phantoms hastened to fly, but the +flood visibly swelled and swallowed up the detestable brood. Soon all +fear was allayed. Heaven and earth flowed together in sweet music. A +flower, wonderful in beauty, floated glittering upon the gentle +billows. A shining bow half circled the flood, and on both sides of it +sat celestial shapes on splendid thrones. Sophia sat highest with the +bowl in her hands, near a majestic man, whose locks were bound by a +garland of oak leaves, and who bore in his right hand a palm of peace +instead of a sceptre. A lily leaf bent over the chalice of the floating +flower. The little Fable sat upon it, and sang to the harp the sweetest +song. In the chalice sat Eros himself, bending over a beautiful, +slumbering maiden who held him fast embraced. A smaller blossom closed +around them both, so that from the thighs they seemed changed to a +flower. + +Eros thanked Ginnistan with thousand fold rapture. He embraced her +tenderly, and she returned his caresses. Wearied by the fatigues of the +journey, and by the manifold objects he had seen, he longed for quiet +and rest. Ginnistan, who felt deeply attracted by the beautiful youth, +took good care not to mention the draught which Sophia had given him. +She led him to a retired bath, and removed his armor. Eros dipped +himself in the dangerous waves, and came out again in rapture. +Ginnistan chafed dry his strong limbs knit with youthful vigor. He +thought with ardent longing of his beloved, and embraced the charming +Ginnistan in sweet delusion. He surrendered himself carelessly to his +tenderness, and fell asleep on the fair bosom of his guide. + +In the mean time a sad change had taken place at home. The scribe had +involved the domestics in a dangerous conspiracy. His fiendish mind had +long sought occasion to obtain possession of the government of the +house, and to shake off his yoke. Such an occasion he had found. His +party first seized the mother and put her in irons. The father also was +deprived of everything but bread and water. The little Fable heard the +noise in the chamber. She hid herself behind the altar; and observing +that there was a concealed door on its farther side, she opened it +quickly, and discovered a staircase leading from it. She closed the +door behind her, and descended the stairs in the dark. The scribe +rushed furiously into the chamber, in order to revenge himself on the +little Fable, and to take Sophia captive. Neither of them was to be +found. The bowl was also missing, and in his wrath he broke the altar +into a thousand pieces, without, however, discovering the secret +staircase. + +Fable continued to descend for a considerable time. At length she +reached an open space adorned with splendid colonnades, and closed by a +great door. All objects there were dark. The air was like one immense +shadow; and a darkly beaming body stood in the sky. One could easily +distinguish objects, because each figure exhibited a peculiar shade of +black, and cast behind a pale glimmer; light and shade seemed to have +changed their respective offices. Fable rejoiced to find herself in a +new world. She regarded everything with childish curiosity. At length +she reached the door, before which upon a massive pedestal reclined a +beautiful Sphinx. + +"What dost thou seek?" said the Sphinx. + +"My possession," replied Fable. + +"Whence comest thou hither?" + +"From olden times." + +"Thou art yet a child." + +"And will be a child forever." + +"Who wilt assist thee?" + +"I will assist myself. Where are my sisters?" asked Fable. + +"Everywhere, and yet nowhere," answered the Sphinx. + +"Dost thou know me?" + +"Not as yet." + +"Where is Love?" + +"In the imagination." + +"And Sophia?" + +The Sphinx murmured inaudibly to itself, and rustled its wings. + +"Sophia and Love!" cried Fable triumphantly, and passed the door. She +stepped into an immense cave, and joyfully reached the aged sisters, +who were pursuing their wonderful occupation, by the poor light of a +dimly burning lamp. They seemed not to notice their little guest, who +busily hovered around them with artless caresses. At last one of them +with a crabbed face roughly rebuked her. + +"What wouldst thou here, idler? Who has admitted thee? Thy childish +steps disturb the quiet flame. The oil is burning to waste. Canst thou +not be seated, and occupy thyself usefully?" + +"Beautiful aunt," said Fable, "I am no idler. But I cannot help +laughing at your door-keeper. She would have taken me to her breast; +but seemed to have eaten too much to rise. Let me sit before the door, +and give me something to spin. I cannot see well here; and when I am +spinning I must be suffered to sing and talk, which might disturb your +serious cogitations." + +"Thou shalt not go outside; but through a cleft of the rock a beam from +the upper world pierces into a side-chamber, there thou mayest spin if +thou knowest how. Here lie great heaps of old ends, spin them together. +But have a care; for if thou spin lazily or break the threads, they +will wind round and choke thee." + +The old woman laughed maliciously and resumed her labor. Fable gathered +up an armful of the threads, took distaff and spindle, and tripped +singing into the chamber. She looked out through the cleft, and saw the +constellation of Phoenix. Rejoicing at the happy omen, she began to +spin industriously, leaving the chamber door ajar, and sang in subdued +tones:-- + + Within your cells awaken, + Children of olden time; + Be every bed forsaken, + The morn begins to climb. + + Your threadlets I am weaving + Into a single thread: + In _one_ life be ye cleaving,-- + The times of strife are sped. + + Each one in all is living, + And all in each beside; + _One_ heart its pulses giving. + From _one_ impelling tide. + + Yet spirits only are ye. + But dream and witchery. + Into the cavern fare ye, + And vex the holy Three. + +The spindle turned with incredible velocity between her little feet, +while she twisted the thread with both her hands. During the song, +innumerable little lights became visible, which passed through the +chink of the door, and spread through the cave in hideous masks. The +elders continued spinning gloomily, and in expectation of the cries of +distress of little Fable. But how terrified were they when a horrible +nose appeared over their shoulders, and when upon looking around they +beheld the whole cave filled with fearful forms, engaged in a thousand +fantastic tricks. They shrunk together, howled with frightful voices, +and would have turned to stone through fear, had not the scribe entered +the cave bearing with him a mandrake root. The lights concealed +themselves in the rocky cleft, and the cave became entirely +illuminated, while the black lamp was extinguished, having been +overturned in the confusion. The old hags were glad when they heard the +scribe approaching; but were full of wrath against the little Fable. +They called her forth, rebuked her terribly, and forbade her spinning +longer. The scribe smiled grimly; because he supposed that now the +little Fable was in his power, and said, + +"It is good that thou art here, and art kept employed. I hope that thou +receivest thy share of punishment. Thy good spirit has guided me +hither. I wish thee a long life and many pleasures." + +"I thank thee for thy good will," said Fable; "lo, what a good age is +approaching thee. The hourglass and sickle only are wanting to make +thee like in looks to the brother of my beautiful aunts. If thou +needest quills, only pluck a handful of soft down from their cheeks." + +The scribe threatened to attack her. She smiled and said, + +"If thy beautiful locks and spiritual eyes are dear to thee, beware! +think of my nails, thou hast not much more to loose." + +He turned with stifled rage towards the old women, who were rubbing +their eyes, and searching for their distaffs. They could not find them +because the lamp was extinguished; but they vented their rage against +Fable. + +"Do let her go," said he spitefully, "that she may catch tarantulas to +prepare your oil. I will tell you for your consolation that Eros is +restlessly on the wing, and by his industry will keep your scissors +busy. His mother, who has so often compelled you to spin the lengthened +threads, will become a prey to the flames to-morrow." + +He laughed with joy, when he saw that Fable wept at this news, and +giving a piece of the root to the old people, departed chuckling. The +sisters, though supplied with oil, angrily ordered Fable to go in +search of tarantulas, and Fable hastened away. She pretended to open +the door, slammed it noisily, and crept stealthily to the back of the +cave, where a ladder was hanging down. She ascended quickly, and soon +came to an aperture, which opened into the apartment of Arcturus. + +The king sat surrounded by his counsellors when Fable appeared. The +Northern Crown adorned his head. He held the lily in his left hand, the +balance in his right. The eagle and the lion sat at his feet. + +"Monarch," said Fable, bending reverently before him, "Hail to thine +eternal throne! Joyful news for thy wounded heart! An early return of +wisdom! Awakening to eternal peace! Rest to the restless love! +Glorification of the heart! Life to antiquity and form to the future!" + +The king touched her open forehead with the lily, "Whatever thou +demandest shall be granted thee." + +"Three times shall I petition, and when I come the fourth time, Love +will be before the door. Now give me the lyre." + +"Eridanus," cried the king, "bring the lyre hither." + +Eridanus streamed forth murmuring from his concealment, and Fable +snatched the lyre from his boiling flood. + +Fable played a few prophetic strains. She sipped from the cup which the +king ordered to be handed her, and hastened away with many thanks. She +glided with a sweet, elastic motion over the icy sea, drawing joyful +music from the strings. + +The ice resounded melodiously beneath her step. She fancied the voices +of the rocks of sorrow were the voices of her children seeking her, and +she answered in a thousand echoes. + +Fable soon reached the shore. She met her mother who appeared wasted +and pale; she had grown thin and sad, and her noble features revealed +the traces of a hopeless sorrow and of touching constancy. + +"What has happened to thee, dear mother?" asked Fable; "thou seemest to +me entirely changed; I should not know thee except by internal signs. I +hoped once more to refresh myself at thy breast; I have pined after +thee for a long time." + +Ginnistan caressed her tenderly, and became calm and serene. + +"I thought from the first," said she, "that the scribe would not take +thee captive. It refreshes me to see thee. Poor and pinched are my +affairs now; but I console myself with hoping that it will soon end. +Perhaps I am about to have a moment of rest. Eros is near; and when he +sees thee and thou speakest with him, he may tarry some time. In the +mean time come to my bosom. I will give thee what I have." + +She took Fable upon her lap, proffered her breast, and while smiling +upon the little one who was enjoying her feast, continued, "I am myself +the cause that Eros has become so wild and inconstant. But yet I repent +it not, for those hours have made me immortal. I believe that his fiery +caresses have strangely transformed him. Long, silver-white wings +covered his glittering shoulders, and the charming fulness of his form. +The strength, which swelling forth had so suddenly changed him from a +youth to a man, seemed entirely to have withdrawn into his wings, and +he had become again a boy. The silent glow of his face became like the +dazzling fire of a will-o'-the-wisp, his holy seriousness had changed +to dissembled roguishness, the significant calm to childish +irresolution, the noble carriage to a droll agility. I felt +irresistibly attracted to the wanton boy by an ardent passion, and +suffered with pain his sneering scorn, and his indifference to my most +touching prayers. I perceived that my form was changed. My careless +serenity had fled, and its place filled with sorrowful anxiety and +shrinking timidity. I would have hidden myself with Eros from all eyes. +I had not the heart to meet his offending eye, and was overwhelmed with +shame and humility. I had no thoughts but for him; and would have given +my life to free him from his wantonness. Deeply as he had hurt my +feelings, I was compelled to worship him. + +"Since the time when he discovered himself and escaped me, I have +continually been in pursuit of him, though I have conjured him +touchingly and with hot tears to remain with me. He seems really intent +on persecuting me. As often as I reach him, he flies away again. On +every side his bow deals destruction. I have nought to do but to +console the unhappy, and yet I myself need consolation. The voices of +those who call me point out to me his path, and their mournful +complaints, when I am compelled to leave them, deeply cut my heart. The +scribe pursues us in a terrible rage, and revenges himself upon the +poor wounded ones. The fruit of that mysterious night was a multitude +of strange children, who look like their grandfather, and are named +after him. Being winged like their father, they ever accompany him, to +torment the poor ones whom his arrow wounds. But there comes the +joyous procession. I must away. Farewell, sweet child. His presence +excites my passion. Be happy in thy designs." + +Eros passed on without Ginnistan, who hastened near him, beseeching but +one look of tenderness. But he turned kindly towards Fable, and his +little companions danced joyously around her. Fable was glad to see her +foster-brother again, and sang a merry song to her lyre. Eros seemed as +if desiring to recall some recollections of the past, and let fall his +bow upon the ground. Ginnistan could now embrace him, and he suffered +her tender caresses. At last Eros began to nod; he clung to Ginnistan's +bosom and fell asleep, spreading over her his wings. The weary +Ginnistan full of rejoicing turned not her eye from the graceful +sleeper. During the song, tarantulas came forth from all sides, which +drew a shining net over the blades of grass, and with sprightly +movements accompanied the music upon the threads. Fable now consoled +her mother, and promised to her speedy assistance. From the rocks fell +back the soft echo of the music, and lulled the sleeper. From the +carefully preserved vessel Ginnistan sprinkled some drops into the air, +and the most delightful dreams descended upon them. Fable took the +vessel and continued her journey. Her strings never were at rest, and +the tarantulas followed the enchanting sounds upon their fast-woven +threads. + +She soon saw from afar the lofty flame of a funeral pile, which rose +high above the green forest. Mournfully she gazed towards heaven; yet +rejoiced when she saw Sophia's blue veil which was waving over the +earth, forever covering the unsightly tomb. The sun stood in heaven, +fiery-red with rage. The powerful flame imbibed its stolen light; and +the more fiercely the sun strove to preserve itself, ever more pale and +spotted it became. The flame grew whiter and more intense, as the sun +faded. It attracted the light more and more strongly; the glory around +the star of day was soon consumed, and it stood there a pale, +glimmering disk, every new agitation of spite and rage aiding the +escape of the flying light-waves. Finally, nought of the sun remained +but a black, exhausted dross, which fell into the sea. The splendor of +the flame was beyond description. It slowly ascended, and bore towards +the North. Fable entered the court, which was desolate; the house had +fallen. Briars were growing in the crevices of the window frames, and +vermin of every kind were creeping about on the broken staircase. She +heard a terrible noise in the chamber; the scribe and his associates +had been devoting her mother to the flames, but had been greatly +terrified by the sudden destruction of the sun. + +They had in vain struggled to extinguish the flame, and had not escaped +unhurt. They vented their pain and anxiety in fearful curses and +wailings. But more terrified were they, when Fable entered the chamber, +and rushed upon them with a furious cry, letting her anger loose upon +them. She stepped behind the cradle, and her pursuers rushed madly into +the web of the tarantulas, which revenged themselves by a thousand +wounds. The whole crowd commenced a frantic dance, to which Fable +played a merry tune. With much laughter at their ludicrous +performances, she approached the fragments of the altar, and cleared +them away, in order to find the hidden staircase, which she descended +with her train of tarantulas. + +The Sphinx asked, "what comes more suddenly than the lightning?" + +"Revenge," said Fable. + +"What is most transient?" + +"Wrongful possession." + +"Who knows the world?" + +"He who knows himself." + +"What is the eternal mystery?" + +"Love." + +"With whom does it rest?" + +"With Sophia." + +The Sphinx bowed herself mournfully, and Fable entered the cave. + +"Here I bring you tarantulas," said she to the old sisters, who again +had lighted their lamp and were busily employed. They were overwhelmed +with fear, and one of them rushed upon her with the shears to murder +her. Unwarily she stepped upon a tarantula, which stung her in the +foot. She cried piteously; the others came to her assistance, and were +likewise stung by the irritated reptiles. They could not now attack +Fable, and danced wildly about. + +"Spin directly for us," cried they angrily to the little one, "some +light dancing dresses. We cannot move in this stiff raiment, and are +nearly melted with heat. Thou must soak the thread in spider's juice +that it may not break, and interweave flowers, which have grown in +fire; otherwise thou shalt die." + +"Right willingly," said Fable, and retired to the side-chamber. + +"I will get you three fine large flies," said she to the spiders, which +had fixed their airy web about the ceiling and the walls; "but you must +spin for me immediately three beautiful light dresses. I will bring you +directly the flowers which must be worked upon them." + +The spiders were ready and began to weave busily. Fable glided up the +ladder, and proceeded to Arcturus. + +"Monarch," said she, "the wicked dance, the good rest. Has the flame +arrived?" + +"It has come," said the King. "Night is passed and the ice melts. My +spouse appears in the distance. My enemy is overwhelmed. All things +begin to exist. As yet I do not dare to show myself, for I am not alone +King. Ask what thou wilt." + +"I need," said Fable, "some flowers that have grown in fire. I know +thou hast a skilful gardener, who understands rearing them." + +"Zinc," cried the King, "give us flowers." + +The flower gardener stepped from the ranks, bringing at vessel full of +fire, and sowed shining seeds therein. Soon flowers sprang up. Fable +gathered them in her apron, and returned. The spiders had been +industrious, and nothing more was needed but to attach the flowers, +which they immediately began to do with much taste and skill. Fable +took good care not to pull off the ends which were yet hanging to the +weavers. + +She carried the dresses to the wearied dancers, who had sunk down +dripping with perspiration, and were taking a moment's breath after +their unwonted exertions. She dextrously undressed the haggard +beauties, who were not backward in scolding their little servant, and +put on the new dresses, which fitted excellently. While thus employed, +she praised the charms and lovely character of her mistresses, who +seemed really pleased with her flatteries, and the splendor of their +new appearance. Having in the mean time rested themselves, they +recommenced their mazy whirl, whilst they deceitfully promised little +Fable a long life and great rewards. Fable returned to the chamber, and +said to the spiders, "you can now eat in peace the flies which I have +brought to your web." + +The spiders were soon impatient at being pulled back and forth by the +distracted movements of the dancers, for the ends of the threads were +still in them. They therefore ran out and attacked the dancers, who +would have defended themselves with the shears, had not Fable quietly +removed them. They therefore submitted to their hungry companions; who +for a long time had not tasted so rich a feast, and who sucked them to +the marrow. Fable looked out from the cleft in the rock, and saw +Perseus with his great shield of iron. The shears flew to it, and Fable +asked him to trim with them the wings of Eros, and then with his shield +to immortalize the sisters, and finish the great work. + +She now left the subterraneous kingdom, and flew rejoicing to +Arcturus's palace. + +"The flax is spun. The lifeless are again unsouled. The living will +govern, the dead will shape and use. The Inmost is revealed, and the +Outermost is hidden. The curtain will soon be lifted, and the play +commence. Once more I petition thee; then will I spin days of +eternity." + +"Happy child," cried the monarch with emotion, "thou art our +deliverer." + +"I am only Sophia's god-daughter," said the little one. "Permit +Turmaline, the flower gardener, and Gold to accompany me. I must gather +up the ashes of my foster-mother; the old Bearer must again arise, that +the earth may not lie in chaos, but renew her motion." + +The king called all three, and commanded them to accompany the little +Fable. The city was light, and in the streets was the bustle of +business. The sea broke roaring upon the high cliff, and Fable went +over in the king's chariot with her companions. Turmaline carefully +gathered the dispersing ashes. They traversed the earth till they came +to the old giant, upon whose shoulders they descended. He seemed lamed +by the touch, and could not move a limb. Gold placed a coin in his +mouth, and the flower-gardener pushed a dish under his loins. Fable +touched his eyes and poured out her vessel upon his forehead. Soon as +the water flowed from his eyes into his mouth, and over his body into +the dish, a flash of life made all his muscles quiver. He opened his +eyes and rose vigorously. Fable jumped up to her companion on the +swelling ground, and kindly bade him good morning. + +"Art thou again here, dear child?" said the old man, "thou of whom I +have so continually dreamed? I always thought that thou wouldst appear +before the earth and my eyes became too heavy. I have indeed been +sleeping long." + +"The earth is again light, as it always was for the good," said Fable. +"Old times are returning. Shortly thou wilt again be among thine old +acquaintances. I will spin out for thee joyous days, nor shalt thou +want an help-meet. Where are our old guests, the Hesperides?" + +"With Sophia. Their garden will soon bloom again, its golden fruits +send forth their odor. They are now busy gathering together the fading +plants." + +Fable departed, and hastened to the house. It was entirely in ruins. +Ivy was winding round the walls. Tall bushes shaded the ancient court, +and the soft moss enwrapt the old steps. She entered the chamber. +Sophia stood by the altar which had been rebuilt. Eros was lying at her +feet in full armor, more grave and noble than ever. A splendid lustre +hung from the ceiling. The floor was paved with variegated stones, +describing a great circle around the altar, which was graced with noble +and significant figures. Ginnistan bent weeping over a couch, on which +the father appeared lying in deep slumber. Her blooming grace was +infinitely enhanced by an expression of devotion and love. Fable handed +to the holy Sophia, who tenderly embraced her, the urn in which the +ashes were gathered. + +"Lovely child," said she, "thy faithfulness and assiduity have earned +for thee a place among the stars. Thou hast elected the immortal within +thee. Ph[oe]nix is thine. Thou wilt be the soul of our life. Now arouse +the bridegroom. The herald calls, and Eros shall seek and awaken +Freya." + +Fable rejoiced unspeakably at these words. She called her companions +Gold and Zinc, and approached the couch. Ginnistan awaited full of +expectation the issue of her enterprise. Gold melted coin, and filled +with a glittering flood the space in which the father was lying. Zinc +wound a chain around Ginnistan's bosom. The body floated upon the +trembling waves. "Bow thyself, dear mother," said Fable, "and lay thy +hand upon the heart of thy beloved." + +Ginnistan bowed. She saw her image many times reflected. The chain +touched the flood, her hand his heart; he awoke and drew the enraptured +bride to his bosom. The metal became a clear and liquid mirror. The +father arose; his eyes flashed lightning; and though his shape was +speakingly beautiful, yet his whole frame appeared a highly susceptible +fluid, which betrayed every affection in manifold and enchanting +undulations. + +The happy pair approached Sophia, who pronounced the words of +consecration upon them, and charged them faithfully to consult the +mirror, which reflected everything, in its real shape, destroyed every +delusion, and ever retained the primeval type of things. She now took +the urn, and shook the ashes into a bowl upon the altar. A soft +bubbling announced the dissolution, and a gentle wind waved the +garments and locks of the bystanders. Sophia handed the bowl to Eros, +who proffered it to the others. All tasted the divine draught, and +received with unspeakable joy the Mother's friendly greeting in their +soul of souls. She appeared to each one of them, and her mysterious +presence seemed to transfigure all. + +Their expectations were fulfilled and surpassed. All perceived what +they had wanted, and the chamber became an abode of the blessed. + +Sophia said, "the great secret is revealed to all, and remains forever +unfathomable. Out of pain is the new world born, and the ashes are +dissolved into tears for a draught of eternal life. The heavenly mother +dwells in all, that every child may be born immortal. Do you not feel +the sweet birth in the beating of your heart?" + +She poured from the bowl the remainder upon the altar. The earth +trembled to its centre. Sophia said, "Eros, hasten with thy sister to +thy beloved. Soon shall ye see me again." + +Fable and Eros quickly departed with their train. Then was scattered +over, the earth a mighty spring. Everything arose and stirred with +life. The earth floated farther beneath the veil. The moon and the +clouds were trailing with joyous tumult towards the North. The king's +castle beamed with a lordly splendor over the sea, and upon its +battlements stood the king in full majesty with all his suite. On every +side they saw dust-whirls, in which familiar shapes seemed represented. +Numerous bands of young men and maidens appeared hastening to the +castle, whom they welcomed with exaltation. Upon many a hill sat happy +couples but just awakened, in long-lost embraces; and they thought the +new world was a dream, nor could they cease assuring themselves of its +reality. + +Flowers and trees sprang up in verdant vigor. All things seemed +inspired. All spoke and sang. Fable saluted on all sides her old +acquaintances. With friendly greeting animals approached awakened men. +The plants welcomed them with fruits and odor, and arrayed themselves +most tastefully. No weight lay longer on any human bosom, and all +burdens became the solid ground on which men trod. They came to the +sea. A ship of polished steel lay fastened to the shore. They stepped +aboard, and cast off the rope. The prow turned to the north, and the +ship cleaved the amorous waves as if on pinions, The sighing sedge +ceased its murmur, as it glides gently to the shore. They hastened up +the broad stairs. Love admired the royal city and its opulence. In the +court the living fountain was sparkling; the grove swayed to and fro in +sweetest tones, and a wondrous life seemed to gush and thrive in its +swelling foliage, its twinkling fruits and blossoms. The old hero +received them at the door of the palace. + +"Venerable man," said Fable, "Eros needs thy sword. Gold has given him +a chain, one end of which reaches down to the sea, the other encircles +his breast. Take it in thy hand, and lead us to the hall where the +princess rests." Eros took the sword from the hand of the old man, +pressed the handle to his breast, and pointed the blade before him. The +folding doors of the hall flew open, and enraptured Eros approached the +slumbering Freya. Suddenly a mighty shock was felt. A bright spark sped +from the princess to the sword, the sword and the chain were illumined; +the hero supported the little Fable who was almost sinking. The crest +of Eros waved on high. "Throw away thy sword," exclaimed Fable, "and +awake thy beloved." + +Eros dropped the sword, flew to the princess and kissed her sweet lips +vehemently. She opened her full, dark eyes, and recognised the loved +one. A long kiss sealed their eternal alliance. + +The king descended from the dome, hand in hand with Sophia. The stars +and the spirits of nature followed in glittering ranks. A day +unspeakably serene filled the hall, the palace, the city, and the sky. +An innumerable multitude poured into the spacious, royal hall, and with +silent devotion saw the lovers kneel before the king and the queen, who +solemnly blessed them. The king took the diadem from his head, and +bound it round the golden locks of Eros, The old hero relieved him of +his armor, and the king threw his mantle around him. Then he gave him +the lily from his left hand, and Sophia fastened a costly bracelet +around the clasped hands of the lovers, and placed her crown upon the +brown locks of Freya. + +"Hail to our ancient rulers!" exclaimed the people. "They have always +dwelt among us, and we have not known them! All hail! They will ever +rule over us. Bless us also!" + +Sophia said to the new queen, "Throw the bracelet of your alliance into +the air, that the people and world may remain devoted to you." The +bracelet dissolved in the air, and light halos were soon seen around +every head; and a shining band encircled city, sea, and earth, which +were celebrating an eternal Spring-festival. Perseus entered, bearing a +spindle and a little basket. He carried the latter to the new king. + +"Here," said he, "are the remains of thine enemies." + +A stone slab chequered with white and black squares lay in the basket, +with a number of figures of alabaster and black marble. + +"It is the game of chess," said Sophia; "all war is confined to this +slab and to these figures. It is a memento of the olden, mournful +times." + +Perseus turned to Fable and gave her the spindle. "In thy hands shall +this spindle make us eternally rejoice, and out of thyself shalt thou +spin an indissoluble, golden thread." + +Phoenix flew with melodious rustling to her feet, and spread his wings +before her; she placed herself upon them, and hovered over the throne, +without again descending. She sang a heavenly song and began to spin, +whilst the thread seemed to wind forth from her breast. The people fell +into new raptures, and all eyes were fastened on the lovely child. New +shouts of exultation came from the door. + +The old Moon entered with her wonderful court, and behind her the +people bore in triumph Ginnistan and her bridegroom. Garlands of +flowers were wound around them; The royal family received them with the +most hearty tenderness, and the new royal pair proclaimed them their +viceregents upon earth. + +"Grant me," said the Moon, "the Kingdom of the Fates, whose wondrous +mansions have arisen from the earth, even in the court of the palace. I +will delight you therein with spectacles, in which the little Fable +will assist me." + +The king granted the prayer; the little Fable nodded pleasantly, and +the people rejoiced at the novel and entertaining pastime. The +Hesperides congratulated them upon the new accession, and prayed that +their garden might be protected. The king gave them welcome; and so +followed joyful events in rapid succession. In the mean while, the +throne had imperceptibly changed to a splendid marriage-bed, over which +Ph[oe]nix and the little Fable were hovering in the air. Three +Caryatides of dark porphyry supported the head, while its foot rested +upon a Sphinx of basalt. The king embraced his blushing bride. The +people followed his example, and kissed each other. Nothing was heard +but tender names and a noise of kisses. + +At length Sophia said, "The Mother is among us. Her presence will +render us eternally happy. Follow us into our dwelling. In the temple +will we dwell forever, and treasure up the secret of the world." + +Fable spun diligently, and sang with a clear voice: + + Established is Eternity's domain, + In Love and Gladness melts the strifeful pain; + The tedious dream of grief returneth never; + Priestess of hearts Sophia is forever. + + + + + + + HENRY OF OFTERDINGEN. + + + PART SECOND. + THE FULFILMENT. + + + + + + THE FULFILLMENT. + + + + + THE CLOISTER, OR FORE-COURT. + + + ASTRALIS. + + Upon a summer morning was I young; + Then felt I for the first my own life-pulse, + And while in deeper raptures Love dissolved, + My sense of life unfolded; and my longing + For more entire and inward dissolution, + Was every moment more importunate. + My being's plastic power is delight; + I am the central point, the holy source, + Whence every longing stormfully outflows, + And where again, though broken and dispersed, + Each longing calmly mingles into one. + Ye know me not, ye saw me not becoming.-- + Who witnessed me upon that happy eve, + When, a night-wanderer yet, I found at length + For the first time myself? Then flowed there not + A shudder of sweet rapture over you? + Entirely hid in honey-cups I lay; + I breathed a fragrance, calmly waved the flowers + In golden morning air. An inner gushing + Was I, a gentle striving, all things flowed + Through me and over me, and light I rose. + Then sank the first dust-seed within the shell,-- + That glowing kiss when risen from the feast! + Backward I ebbed upon my inmost life-- + It was a flash,--my powers already swell, + And move the tender petals and the bell, + And swiftly, from beneath my being's spring, + To earthly senses thoughts were blossoming. + Yet was I blind, but stars began to sweep + In light across my being's wondrous deep; + Myself I found as of a distant clime, + Echo of olden as of future time. + From sadness, love and hopefulness created, + The growth of memory was but a flight, + And mid the dashing billows of delight, + Then too the deepest sorrow penetrated.-- + The world in bloom around the hillock clings,-- + The Prophet's words were changed to double wings; + Matilde and Henry were alone united + Into one form, into one rapture plighted; + New-born I rose, to Heaven gladly leaping, + For then the earthly destinies were blent + In one bright moment of transfigurement; + And Time, no more his ancient title keeping, + Again demanded what it once had lent. + + Forth breaks the new creation here, + Eclipsing the glow of the brightest sphere. + Behold through ruins ivy-streaming + A new and wondrous future gleaming, + And what was common hitherto, + Appeareth marvellous and new. + Love's realm beginneth to reveal, + And busy Fable plies her wheel. + To its olden play each nature returns, + And a mighty spell in each one burns; + And so the Soul of the world doth hover + And move through all, and bloom forever. + For each other all must strive, + One through the other must ripen and thrive; + Each is shadowed forth in all, + While itself with them is blending, + And eagerly into their deeps doth fall, + Its own peculiar essence mending, + And myriad thoughts to life doth call. + + The dream is World, the world is Dream, + And what already past may seem, + Itself is yet in distance moulding; + But Fancy first her court is holding, + Freely the threads at her pleasure weaving, + Much veiling here, much there unfolding, + And then in magical vapor leaving. + Life and death, rapture and sadness, + Are here in inmost sympathy,-- + Who yieldeth himself to love's deep madness, + From its wounds is never free. + In pain must every bond be riven + That winds around the inner eye, + The orphaned heart with woe have striven, + Ere it the sullen world can fly. + The body melteth in its weeping, + Its bitter sighs the bosom burn; + The world a grave becometh, keeping + The heart, like ashes in an urn. + +In deep thought a pilgrim was walking along a narrow foot-path which +ran up the mountain side. Noon had passed. A strong wind whistled +through the blue air. Its dull and ever-changing sounds lost themselves +as they came. Had it perhaps flown through the regions of childhood, or +through other whispering lands? They were voices whose echo sounded in +his heart; yet the pilgrim did not appear to recognise them. He had now +reached the mountain where he hoped to find a limit to his journey. +Hoped? No longer did he cherish hope. Terrible anxiety, the sterile +coldness of indifferent despair, urged him to seek the wild horrors of +the mountains; the most toilsome path soothed the tumult of his soul. +He was weary and silent. He noticed not the gradual accumulation of +nature around him, as he sat upon a stone and cast his eye backward. It +seemed as if he were or had been dreaming. A splendor whose limit he +could not define opened before him. His cheeks were soon wet with +tears, as his feelings suddenly broke loose; he would have wept himself +away in the distance, that no trace of his existence might remain. Amid +his deep-drawn sighs he seemed to recover; the soft, serene air +penetrated him. The world was again present to his senses, and thoughts +of other times began to speak to him consolation. + +In the distance lay Augsburg with its towers; far on the horizon +glimmered the mirror of the fearful, mysterious stream. The mighty +forest bowed with grave sympathy towards the wanderer; the notched +mountain rested meaningly upon the plain, and both seemed to say, +"Hasten on, O stream, thou dost not escape us. I will follow thee with +winged ships. I will break thee, restrain thee, and swallow thee up in +my bosom! O pilgrim, confide in us! Even he is our enemy whom we +ourselves begat; let him make haste with his booty, he escapes us not." + +The poor pilgrim thought of olden times and their unspeakable delights; +but how heavily did those dear recollections pass through his mind. The +broad hat concealed a youthful face; it was pale as a night-flower. The +balmy sap of youthful life had changed to tears, his swelling breath to +deep sighs; an ashy paleness had usurped all color. + +On one side upon the declivity of the hill, he thought he saw a monk +kneeling under an old oak tree. "Might not that possibly be the old +chaplain?" he conjectured, without much surprise at the idea. The monk +appeared larger and more unshapely the nearer he approached. He now +discovered his mistake. It was an isolated rock, over which a tree was +bending. With silent emotion he clasped the stone in his arms, and with +loud sobbing pressed it to his breast. "O that yet your speech was +preserved, and that the Holy Mother would give me some token! Am I then +entirely miserable and abandoned? Dwells there then in this desert no +holy one who would lend me his prayer? Dear father, at this time pray +thou for me!" + +As he so thought to himself, the tree began to wave; the rock emitted a +hollow sounds and as from a great depth beneath the earth, clear, sweet +voices were heard singing:-- + + Her heart was full of gladness, + For gladness knew she best; + She nothing knew of sadness, + With darling at her breast. + She showered him with kisses, + She kissed his cheek so warm,-- + Encircled was with blisses + Through darling's fairy form. + +The soft voices seemed to sing with infinite pleasure. They repeated +the verse several times. All was quiet again, when the astonished +pilgrim heard some one speaking to him from the tree:-- + +"If thou wilt play a song in honor of me upon thy lute, a little maiden +will come for it; take her with thee and leave her not. Think of me +when thou comest to the emperor. I have chosen this abode, that I may +remain with my little child; let a strong, warm dwelling be built for +me here. My little one has conquered death; trouble not thyself, I am +with thee. Yet a while thou wilt remain upon earth, but the little girl +will console thee, until thou also diest and enterest into our joy." + +"It is Matilda's voice!" exclaimed the pilgrim, and fell upon his knees +in prayer. Then pierced through the branches a lengthened ray unto his +eyes, and through it in the distance he beheld a small but wonderful +splendor, not to be described, only to be depicted with a skilful +pencil. It was composed of extremely delicate figures; and the most +intense pleasure and joy, even a heavenly happiness, everywhere rayed +forth from it, so that even the inanimate vessels, the chiselled +capitals, the drapery, the ornaments, everything visible, seemed not so +much like works of art, as to have grown and sprung up together like +the full-juiced herb. Most beautiful human forms were passing to and +fro, and appeared kind and gracious to each other beyond measure. +Before all was standing the pilgrim's beloved one, and it seemed as if +she would have spoken to him; yet nothing could be heard, and the +pilgrim only regarded with ardent longing her pleasant features, as she +beckoned to him so kindly and smilingly, and laid her hand upon her +heart. The sight was infinitely consoling and refreshing, and the +pilgrim remained a long while steeped in holy rapture, until the vision +disappeared. The sacred beam had drawn up all pain and trouble from his +heart, so that his mind was again clear and cheerful, his spirit free +and buoyant as before. Nought remained but a silent, inward longing, +and a sound of sadness in the spirit's depths; but the wild torments of +solitude, the sharp anguish of unspeakable loss, the terrible sense of +a mournful void, had passed away with all earthly faintness, and the +pilgrim again looked forth upon a world teeming with expression. Voice +and language renewed their life within him, all things seemed more +known and prophetic than before, so that death appeared to him a high +revelation of life, and he viewed his own fleeting existence with +child-like and serene emotion. The future and the past had met within +him, and formed an eternal union. He stood far from the present, and +the world was now for the first time dear to him, when he had lost it, +and was there only as a stranger, who would yet wander but a while +through its diversified and spacious halls. It was now evening, and the +earth lay before him like an old beloved dwelling, which he had found +again after long absence. A thousand recollections recurred to him; +every stone, every tree, every hillock, made itself recognised. Each +was the memorial of a former history. + +The pilgrim snatched his lute, and sang:-- + + Love's tears, love's glowing, + Together flowing, + Hallow every place for me, + Where Elysium quenched my longing, + And in countless prayers are thronging, + Like the bees around this tree. + + Gladly is it o'er them bending, + Thither wending, + Them protecting from the storm; + Gratefully its leaves bedewing, + And its tender life renewing, + Wonders will the prayers perform. + + E'en the rugged rock is sunken, + Joy-drunken, + At the Holy Mother's feet. + Are the stones devotion keeping, + Should not man for her be weeping + Tears and blood in homage meet? + + The afflicted hither stealing + Should be kneeling; + Here will all obtain relief. + Sorrow will no more be preying, + Joyfully will all be saying: + Long ago we were in grief. + + On the mountain, walls commanding + Will be standing; + In the vales will voices cry, + When the bitter times are waking: + Let the heart of none be aching, + Thither to those places fly! + + Oh, thou Holy Virgin Mother! + With another + Heart the sorrowing wanders hence. + Thou, Matilda, art revealing + Love eternal to my feeling, + Thou, the goal of every sense. + + Thou, without my questions daring, + Art declaring + When I shall attain to thee. + Gaily in a thousand measures + Will I praise creation's treasures, + Till thou dost encircle me. + + Things unwonted, wonders olden! + To you beholden, + Ever in my heart remain. + Memory her spell is flinging, + Where light's holy fountain springing + Washed away the dream of pain. + +During this song he had noticed nothing, but as he looked up, there +appeared a young girl standing upon the rock, who kindly greeted him +like an old acquaintance, and invited him to go to her dwelling, where +she had already prepared an evening meal for him. Her whole behavior +and carriage towards him were friendly. She asked him to tarry a few +moments, while she stepped under the tree, and looking up with an +indescribable smile, shook many roses from her apron upon the grass. +She knelt silently by his side, but soon arose and led the pilgrim on. + +"Who has told thee about me?" asked the pilgrim. + +"Our mother." + +"Who is thy mother?" + +"The Mother of God." + +"How long hast thou been here?" + +"Since I came from the tomb." + +"Hast thou already been dead?" + +"How could I else be living?" + +"Livest thou entirely alone here?" + +"An old man is at home, yet I know many more who have lived." + +"Wouldst thou like to remain with me?" + +"Indeed I love thee." + +"How long hast thou known me?" + +"O! from olden times; my former mother, too, told me about thee." + +"Hast thou yet a mother?" + +"Yes; but really the same." + +"What is her name?" + +"Maria." + +"Who was thy father?" + +"The Count of Hohenzollern." + +"Him I also know." + +"Thou shouldst know him well, for he is also thy father." + +"My father is in Eisenach." + +"Thou hast more parents." + +"Whither are we going?" + +"Ever homewards." + +They had now reached a roomy spot in the wood, where some decayed +towers were standing beyond deep ravines. Early shrubbery wound about +the old walls, like a youthful garland around the silvery head of an +old man. While contemplating the gray stones, the tortuous clefts, and +the tall, ghastly, shapes of rock, one looked into immensity of time, +and saw the most distant events, collected in short but brilliant +minutes. So appears to us the infinite space of heaven, clad in dark +blue; and like a milky glimmer, stainless as an infant's cheeks, +appears the most distant array of its ponderous and mighty worlds. They +walked through an old doorway, and the pilgrim was not a little +astonished when he found himself entirely surrounded by strange plants, +and saw all the charms of the most beautiful garden hidden beneath the +ruins. A small stone house built in recent style, with large windows, +lay in the rear. There stood an old man behind the broad-leafed +shrubbery, employed in tying the drooping branches to some little +props. His female guide led the pilgrim to him, and said, "Here is +Henry, after whom you have inquired so often." + +As the old man turned around, Henry fancied that he saw the miner +before him. + +"This is the physician Sylvester," said the little girl. + +Sylvester was glad to see him, and said, "it is a long time since I saw +your father. We were both young then. I was quite solicitous to teach +him the treasures of the Fore-time, the rich legacies bequeathed to us +by a world too early separated from us. I noticed in him the tokens of +a great artist; his eye flashed with the desire to become a correct +eye, a creative instrument; his face indicated inward constancy and +persevering industry. But the present world had already taken hold of +him too deeply; he would not listen to the call of his own nature. The +stern hardihood of his native sky had blighted in him the tender buds +of the noblest plants; he became an able mechanic, and inspiration +seemed to him but foolishness." + +"Indeed," said Henry, "I often observed a silent sadness within him. He +always labored from mere habit, and not for any pleasure. He seems to +feel a want, which the peaceful quiet and comfort of his life, the +pleasure of being honored and beloved by his townsmen, and consulted in +all important affairs of the city, cannot satisfy. His friends consider +him very happy; but they know not how weary he is of life, how empty +the world appears to him, how he longs to depart from it; and that he +works so industriously not so much for the sake of gain, as to +dissipate such moods." + +"What I am most surprised at," replied Sylvester, "is that he has +committed your education entirely into the hands of your mother, and +has carefully abstained from taking any part in your development, nor +has ever held you to any fixed occupation. You can happily say that you +have been permitted to grow up free from all parental restraints; for +most men are but the relics of a feast which men of different appetites +and tastes have plundered." + +"I myself know not," replied Henry, "what education is, except that +derived from the life and disposition of my parents, or the instruction +of my teacher, the chaplain. My father with all his cool and sturdy +habits of thought, which leads him to regard all relations like a piece +of metal or a work of art, yet involuntarily and unconsciously exhibits +a silent reverence and godly fear before all incomprehensible and lofty +phenomena, and therefore looks upon the blooming growth of the child +with humble self-denial. A spirit is busy here, playing fresh from the +infinite fountain; and this feeling of the superiority of a child in +the loftiest matters, the irresistible thought of an intimate guidance +of the innocent being who is just entering on a course so critical, the +impress of a wondrous world, which no earthly currents have yet +obliterated, and then too the sympathizing memory of that golden age +when the world seemed to us clearer, kindlier, and more unwonted, and +the almost visible spirit of prophecy attended us,--all this has +certainly won my father to a system the most devout and discreet." + +"Let us seat ourselves upon the grass among the flowers," said the old +man interrupting him. "Cyane will call us when our evening meal is +ready. I pray you continue your account of your early life. We old +people love much to hear of childhood's years, and it seems as if I +were drinking the odor of a flower, which I had not inhaled since my +infancy. Tell me first, however, how my solitude and garden please you, +for these flowers are my friends; my heart is in this garden. You see +nothing that loves me not, that is not tenderly beloved. I am here in +the midst of my children, like an old tree from whose roots, has +sprouted this merry youth." + +"Happy father," said Henry, "your garden is the world. The ruins are +the mothers of these blooming children; this manifold animate creation +draws its support from the fragments of past time. But must the mother +die, that the children may thrive? Does the father remain sitting alone +at their tomb, in tears forever?" + +Sylvester gave his hand to the sighing youth, and then arose to pluck a +fresh forget-me-not, which he tied to a cypress branch and brought to +him. The evening wind waved strangely in the tops of the pines which +stood beyond the ruins, and sent over their hollow murmur. Henry hid +his face bedewed with tears upon the neck of the good Sylvester, and +when he looked again, the evening star arose in full glory above the +forest. + +After some silence, Sylvester began; "You would probably like to be at +Eisenach among your friends. Your parents, the excellent countess, your +father's upright neighbors, and the old chaplain make a fair social +circle. Their conversation must have produced an early influence upon +you, particularly as you were the only child. I also imagine the +country to be very striking and agreeable." + +"I learn for the first time," said Henry, "to esteem my native country +properly, since my absence, and the sight of many other lands. Every +plant, every tree, every hill and mountain has its own horizon, its +peculiar landscape, which belongs to it, and explains its whole +structure and nature. Only men and animals can visit all countries; all +countries are theirs. Thus together they form one great region, one +infinite horizon, whose influence upon men and animals is just as +visible, as that of a more narrow circuit upon the plant. Hence men who +have travelled, birds of passage, and beasts of prey, are distinguished +among other faculties, for a remarkable intelligence. Yet they +certainly possess more or less susceptibility to the influence of these +circles, and of their varied contents and arrangement. The attention +and composure necessary to contemplate properly the alternation and +connexion of things, and then to reflect upon and compare them, are in +fact wanting to most men. I myself often feel how my native land has +breathed upon my earliest thoughts imperishable colors, and how its +image has become a peculiar feature of my mind, which I am ever better +explaining to myself, the deeper I perceive that fate and mind are but +names of one idea." + +"Upon me," said Sylvester, "living nature, the emotive outer-garment of +a landscape, has always produced a most powerful effect. Especially I +am never tired of examining most carefully the different natures of +plants. All productions of the earth are its primitive language; every +new leaf, every particular flower, is everywhere a mystery, which +presses outward; and since it cannot move itself at love and joy, nor +come to words, becomes a mute, quiet plant. When we find such a flower +in solitude, is it not as if everything about it were glorified, and as +if the little feathered songsters loved most to linger near it? One +could weep for joy, and separated from the world, plant hand and foot +in the earth, to give it root, and never abandon the happy +neighborhood. Over all the sterile world is spread this green, +mysterious carpet of love. Every Spring it is renewed, and its peculiar +writing is legible only to the loved one, like the nosegay of the +East; he will read forever, yet never enough, and will perceive daily +new meanings, new delightful revelations of loving nature. This +infinite enjoyment is the secret charm, which the survey of the earth's +surface has for me, while each region solves other riddles, and has +always led me to divine whence I came and whither I go." + +"Yes," said Henry, "we began to speak of childhood's years, and of +education, because we are in your garden; and the revelation of +childhood, the innocent world of flowers, imperceptibly brought to our +thoughts and lips the recollection of old acquaintanceship. My father +is also very fond of gardening, and spends the happiest hours of his +life among the flowers. This has certainly kept his heart open towards +children, since flowers are their counterpart. The teeming opulence of +infinite life, the mighty powers of later times, the splendor of the +end of the world, and the golden future which awaits all things, we +here see closely entwined, but still to be most plainly and clearly in +tender youthfulness. All-powerful love is already working, but does not +yet enflame; it is no devouring fire, but a melting vapor; and however +intimate the union of the tenderest souls may be, yet it is accompanied +by no intense excitement, no consuming madness, as in brutes. Thus is +childhood below here nearest to the earth; as on the other hand clouds +are perhaps the types of the second, higher childhood, of the paradise +regained; and hence they so beneficently shed their dew upon the +first." + +"There is indeed something very mysterious in the clouds," said +Sylvester, "and certain overcloudings often have a wonderful influence +upon us. Trailing over our heads, they would take us up and away in +their cold shades; and when their form is lovely and varied, like an +outbreathed wish of our soul, then the clearness and the splendid +light, which reigns upon earth, is like a presage of unknown, ineffable +glory. But there are also dark, solemn, and fearful overcloudings, in +which all the terrors of old night appear to threaten. The sky seems as +if it never would be clear again; the serene blue is hidden; and a wan +copper hue upon the dark gray ground awakens fear and anxiety in every +bosom. Then when the blasting beams shoot downwards, and with fiendish +laughter the crashing thunder-peals fall after them, we are struck to +our souls; and unless there arises the lofty consciousness of our moral +superiority, we fancy that we are delivered over to the terrors of hell +and all the powers of darkness. They are echoes of the old, unhuman +nature, but awakening voices too of the higher nature of divine +conscience within us. The mortal totters to its base; the immortal +grows more serene and recognises itself." + +"Then," said Henry, "when will there be no more terror or pain, want or +evil in the universe?" + +"When there is but one power, the power of conscience; when nature +becomes chaste and pure. There is but one cause of evil,--common +frailty,--and this frailty is nothing but a weak moral susceptibility, +and a deficiency in the attraction of freedom." + +"Explain to me the nature of Conscience." + +"I were God, could I do so; for when we comprehend it, Conscience +exists. Can you explain to me the essence of poetry?" + +"A personality cannot be distinctly defined." + +"How much less then the secret of the highest indivisibility. Can music +be explained to the deaf?" + +"If so, would the sense itself be part of the new world opened by it? +Does one understand facts only when one has them?" + +"The universe is separated into an infinite system of worlds, ever +encompassed by greater worlds. All senses are in the end but one. One +sense conducts, like one world, gradually to all worlds. But everything +has its time and its mode. Only the Person of the universe can detect +the relations sustained by our world. It is difficult to say, whether +we, within the sensuous limits of corporeity, could really augment our +world with new worlds, our sense with new senses, or whether every +increase of our knowledge, every newly acquired ability, is only to be +considered as the development of our present organization." + +"Perhaps both are one," said Henry. "For my own part, I only know that +Fable is the collective instrument of my present world. Even +Conscience, that sense and world-creating power, that germ of all +Personality, appears to me like the spirit of the world-poem, like the +event of the eternal, romantic confluence of the infinitely mutable +common life." + +"Dear pilgrim," Sylvester replied, "the Conscience appears in every +serious perfection, in every fashioned truth. Every inclination and +ability transformed by reflection into a universal type becomes a +phenomenon, a phase of Conscience. All formation tends to that which +can only be called Freedom; though by that is not meant an idea, but +the creative ground of all being. This freedom is that of a guild. The +master exercises free power according to design, and in defined and +well digested method. The objects of his art are his, and he can do +with them as he pleases, nor is he fettered or circumscribed by them. +To speak accurately, this all-embracing freedom, this mastership of +dominion, is the essence, the impulse of Conscience. In it is revealed +the sacred peculiarity, the immediate creation of Personality, and +every action of the master, is at once the announcement of the lofty, +simple, evident world--God's word." + +"Then is that, which I remember was once called morality, only religion +as Science, the so called theology in its proper sense? Is it but a +code of laws related to worship as nature is to God, a construction of +words, a train of thoughts, which indicates, represents the upper +world, and extends it to a certain point of progress--the religion for +the faculty of insight and judgment--the sentence, the law of the +solution and determination of all the possible relations which a +personal being sustains?" + +"Certainly," said Sylvester, "Conscience is the innate mediator of +every man. It takes the place of God upon earth, and is therefore to +many the highest and the final. But how far was the former science, +called virtue or morality, from the pure shape of this lofty, +comprehensive, personal thought! Conscience is the peculiar essence of +man fully glorified, the divine archetypal man (Urmensch.) It is not +this thing and that thing; it does not command in a common tongue, it +does not consist of distinct virtues. There is but one virtue,--the +pure, solemn Will, which, at the moment of decision chooses, resolves +instantaneously. In living and peculiar oneness it dwells and inspires +that tender emblem, the human body, and can excite all the spiritual +members to the truest activity." + +"O excellent father!" exclaimed Henry, "with what joy fills me the +light which flows from your words! Thus the true spirit of Fable is the +spirit of virtue in friendly disguise; and the proper spirit of the +subordinate art of poetry is the emotion of the loftiest, most personal +existence. There is a surprising selfness (Selbstheit) between a +genuine song and a noble action. The disfranchised conscience in a +smooth, unresisting world, becomes an enchaining conversation, an +all-narrating fable. In the fields and halls of this old world lives +the poet, and virtue is the spirit of his earthly acts and influences; +and as this is the indwelling divinity among men, the marvellous reflex +of the higher world, so also is Fable. How safely can the poet now +follow the guidance of his inspiration, or if he possesses a lofty, +transcendent sense, follow higher essences, and submit to his calling +with child-like humility. The higher voice of the universe also speaks +within him, and cries with enchanting words to kindlier and more +familiar worlds. As religion is related to virtue, so is inspiration to +mythology; and as the history of revelation is treasured in sacred +writings, so the life of a higher world expresses itself in mythology +in manifold ways, in poems of wonderful origin. Fable and history +sustain to each other the most intimate relations, through paths the +most intricate, and disguises the most extraordinary; and the Bible and +mythology are constellations of one orbit." + +"What you say is perfectly true," said Sylvester; "and now you can +probably comprehend that all nature subsists by the spirit of virtue +alone, and must ever become more permanent. It is the all-inflaming, +the all-quickening light in the embrace of earth. From the firmament, +that lofty dome of the starry realm, down to the ruffling carpet of the +varied meadow, all things will be sustained by it, united to us and +made comprehensible; and by it the unknown course of infinite nature's +history will be conducted to its consummation." + +"Yes; and you have often as beautifully shown, before now, the +connexion between virtue and religion. Everything, which experience and +earthly activity embrace, forms the province of Conscience, which +unites this world with higher worlds. With a loftier sense religion +appears, and what formerly seemed an incomprehensible necessity of our +inmost nature, a universal law without any definite intent, now becomes +a wonderful, domestic, infinitely varied, and satisfying world, an +inconceivably interior communion of all the spiritual with God, and a +perceptible, hallowing presence of the only One, or of his Will, of his +Love in our deepest self." + +"The innocence of your heart," Sylvester replied, "makes you a prophet. +All things will be revealed to you, and for you the world and its +history will be transformed into holy writ, just as the sacred writings +evince how the universe can be revealed in simple words, or narratives, +if not directly, yet mediately by hinting at and exciting higher +senses. My connexion with nature has led me to the point where the joy +and inspiration of language have brought you. Art and history have made +me acquainted with nature. My parents dwelt in Sicily, not far from the +famous Mount Ætna. Their dwelling was a comfortable house in the +ancient style, hidden by old chestnut trees near the rocky shore of the +sea, and affording the attraction of a garden stocked with various +plants. Near were many huts, in which dwelt fishermen, herdsmen, and +vine-dressers. Our chambers and cellar were amply provided with +everything that supports and gives enjoyment to life, and by well +bestowed labor, our arrangements were agreeable to the most refined +senses. Moreover there was no lack of those manifold objects, whose +contemplation and use elevate the mind above ordinary life and its +necessities, preparing it for a more suitable condition, and seem to +promise and procure for it the pure enjoyment of its full and proper +nature. You might have seen there marble statues, storied vases, small +stones with most distinct figures, and other articles of furniture, the +relics perhaps of other and happier times. Also many scrolls of +parchment lay in folds upon each other, in which were treasured, in +their long succession of letters, the knowledge, sentiments, histories, +and poems of that past time, in most agreeable and polished +expressions. The calling of my father, who had by degrees become an +able astrologer, attracted to him many inquiring visiters, even from +distant lands; and as the knowledge of the future seemed to men a rare +and precious gift, they were led to remunerate him richly for his +communication; so that he was enabled, by the gifts he received, to +defray the expenses of a comfortable and even luxurious style of life." + + * * * * * + +The author advanced no farther in the composition of this second part, +which he called "The Fulfilment," as he had called the first "The +Expectation," because all that was left to anticipation in the latter +was explained and fulfilled in the former. It was the design of the +author to write, after the completion of Ofterdingen, six romances for +the statement of his views of physical science, civil life, commerce, +history, political science, and of love; as his views of poetry had +been given in Ofterdingen. I need not remind the intelligent reader, +that the author in this poem has not adhered very closely to the time +or the person of that well known Minnesinger, though every part brings +him and his time to remembrance. It is an irreparable loss, not only to +the friends of the author, but to the art itself, that he could not +have finished this romance, the originality and great design of which +would have been better developed in the second than in the first part. +For it was by no means his object to represent this or that occurrence, +to embrace one side of poetry, and explain it by figures and narrative; +but it was his intention, as is plain from the last chapter of the +first part, to express the real essence of poetry and explain its +inmost aim. + +To this end nature, history, war, and civil life, with their usual +events, are all transformed to poetry, as that is the spirit which +animates all things. + +I shall endeavor as far as possible, from my memory of conversations +with my friend, and from what I can discover in the papers he has left, +to give the reader some idea of the plan and subject-matter of the +second part of this work. + +To the poet, who has apprehended the essence of his art at its central +point, nothing appears contradictory or strange; to him all riddles are +solved. By the magic of fancy he can unite all ages and all worlds; +wonders vanish, and all things change to wonders. So is this book +written; and the reader will find the boldest combinations, +particularly in the tale which closes the first part. Here are renewed +all those differences by which ages seem separated, and hostile worlds +meet each other. The poet wished particularly to make this tale the +transition-point to the second part, in which the narrative soars from +the common to the marvellous, and both are mutually explained and +restored; the spirit of the prologue in verse should return at each +chapter, and this state of mind, this wonderful view of things should +be permanent. By this means the invisible world remains in eternal +connexion with the visible. This speaking spirit is poetry itself; but +at the same time the sidereal man who is born from the love of Henry +and Matilda. In the following lines, which should have their place in +Ofterdingen, the author has expressed in the simplest manner the +interior spirit of his works: + + When marks and figures cease to be + For every creature's thoughts the key, + When they will even kiss or sing + Beyond the sage's reckoning, + When life, to Freedom will attain, + And Freedom in creation reign, + When Light and Shade, no longer single, + In genuine splendor intermingle, + And one in tales and poems sees + The world's eternal histories,-- + Then will our whole inverted being + Before a secret word be fleeing. + +The gardener, who converses with Henry, is the same old man who had +formerly entertained Ofterdingen's father. The young girl, whose name +is Cyane, is not his child, but the daughter of the Count of +Hohenzollern. She came from the East; and though it was at an early +age, yet she can recollect her home. She has long lived a strange life +in the mountains, among which she was brought up by her deceased +mother. She has lost in early life a brother, and has narrowly escaped +death in a vaulted tomb; but an old physician rescued her in some +peculiar way. She is gentle, and kind, and very familiar with the +supernatural. She tells the poet her history as she had heard it once +from her mother. She sends him to a distant cloister, whose monks seem +to be a kind of spirit-colony; everything is like a mystic, magic +lodge. They are the priests of the holy fire in youthful minds. He +hears the distant chant of the brothers; in the church itself, he has a +vision. With an old monk Henry converses about death and magic, has +presentiment of death--and of the philosopher's stone; visits the +cloister-garden and the churchyard, concerning which latter I find the +following poem:-- + + Praise ye now our still carousals, + Gardens, chambers decked so gaily, + Household goods as for espousals, + Our possessions praise. + New guests are coming daily, + Some late, the others early; + On the spacious hearth forever + Glimmereth a new life-blaze. + + Thousand vessels wrought with cunning, + Once bedewed with thousand tears, + Golden rings and spurs and sabres, + Are our treasury; + Many gems of costly mounting + Wist we of in dark recesses, + None can all our wealth be counting, + Counts he even ceaselessly. + + Children of a time evanished, + Heroes from the hoary ages, + Starry spirits high excelling, + Wondrously combine, + Graceful women, solemn sages, + Life in all its motley stages, + In one circle here are dwelling, + In the olden world recline. + + None is evermore molested; + None who joyously hath feasted, + At our sumptuous table seated, + Wisheth to be gone. + Hushed is sorrow's loud complaining, + Wonders are no longer greeted, + Bitter tears no longer raining, + Hour-glass ever floweth on. + + Holy kindness deeply swelling, + In blest contemplation buried, + Heaven in the soul is dwelling + With a cloudless breast; + In our raiment long and flowing + Through spring-meadows are we carried, + Where rude winds are never blowing, + In this land of perfect rest. + + Pleasing lure of midnight hours + Quiet sphere of hidden powers, + Rapture of mysterious pleasure, + These alone our prize; + Ours alone that highest measure, + Where ourselves in streamlets pouring, + Then in dew-drops upward soaring, + Drink we as we flow or rise. + + First with us grew life from love; + Closely like the elements + Do we mangle Being's waves, + Foaming heart with heart. + Hotly separate the waves, + For the strife of elements + Is the highest life of love, + And the very heart of hearts. + + Whispered talk of gentle wishes + Hear we only, we are gazing + Ever into eyes transfigured, + Tasting nought but mouth and kiss; + All that we are only touching, + Change to balmy fruits and glowing, + Change to bosoms soft and tender, + Offerings to daring bliss. + + The desire is ever springing, + On the loved one to be clinging, + Round him all our spirit flinging, + One with him to be,-- + Ardent impulse ever heeding + To consume in turn each other, + Only nourished, only feeding + On each other's ecstasy. + + So in love and lofty rapture + Are we evermore abiding, + Since that lurid life subsiding, + In the day grew pale; + Since the pyre its sparkles scattered, + And the sod above us sinking, + From around the spirit shrinking + Melted then the earthly veil. + + Spells around remembrance woven, + Holy sorrow's trembling gladness, + Tone-like have our spirits cloven, + Cooled their glowing blood. + Wounds there are, forever paining; + A profound, celestial sadness, + Within all our hearts remaining, + Us dissolveth in one flood. + + And in flood we forth are gushing, + In a secret manner flowing + To the ocean of all living, + In the One profound; + And from out His heart while rushing, + To our circle backward going, + Spirit of the loftiest striving + Dips within our eddying round. + + All your golden chains be shaking + Bright with emeralds and rubies, + Flash and clang together making, + Shake with joyous note. + From the damp recesses waking, + From the sepulchres and ruins, + On your cheeks the flush of heaven, + To the realm of Fable float. + + O could men, who soon will follow + To the spirit-land, be dreaming + That we dwell in all their joyance, + All the bliss they taste, + They would burn with glad upbuoyance + To desert the life so hollow,-- + O, the hours away are streaming, + Come, beloved, hither haste. + + Aid to fetter the Earth-spirit, + Learn to know the sense of dying, + And the word of life discover; + Hither turn at last. + Soon will all thy power be over, + Borrowed light away be flying, + Soon art fettered, O Earth-spirit, + And thy time of empire past. + +This poem was perhaps a prologue to a second chapter. Now an entirely +new period of the work would have opened; the highest life proceeding +from the stillest death; he has lived among the dead and conversed with +them. Now the book would have become nearly dramatic, the epic tone, as +it were, uniting together and simply explaining the single scenes. +Henry suddenly finds himself in Italy, distracted, rent with wars; he +sees himself the leader of an army. All the elements of war play in +poetic colors. With an irregular band, he attacks a hostile city; here +appears in episode the love of a noble of Pisa for a Florentine maiden. +War-songs--"a great war, like a duel, noble, philosophical, human +throughout. Spirit of the old chivalry; the tournament. Spirit of +bacchanalian sadness.[4] Men must fall by each other,--nobler than to +fall by fate. They seek death.--Honor, fame, is the warrior's joy and +life. The warrior lives in death and like a shade. Desire for death is +the warrior-spirit. Upon the earth is war at home; it must be upon +earth."--In Pisa Henry finds the Son of Frederick the Second, who +becomes his confidential friend. He also travels to Loretto. Several +songs were to follow here. + +The poet is cast away on the shores of Greece by a tempest. The old +world with its heroes and treasures of art fills his mind. He converses +with a Grecian about morality. Everything from ancient times is present +to him; he learns to understand the old pictures and histories. +Conversation upon Grecian polity and mythology. + +After becoming acquainted with the heroic age and with antiquity, he +visits the Holy Land, for which he had felt so great a longing from his +youth. He seeks Jerusalem, and acquaints himself with Oriental poetry. +Strange events among the infidels detain him in desert regions; he +discovers the family of the eastern girl (see Part I.): the manners and +life of nomadic tribes.--Persian tales, recollections of the remotest +antiquity. The book during all these various events was to retain its +characteristic hue, and recall to mind the blue flower: throughout, the +most distant and distinct traditions were to be knit together, Grecian, +Oriental, Biblical, Christian, with reminiscences of and references to +both the Indian and Northern mythology.--The Crusades.--Life at sea.-- +Henry visits Rome. Roman history. + +Sated with his experiences, Henry at length returns to Germany. He +finds his grandfather, a profound character; Klingsohr is in his +society. An evening's conversation with them. + +Henry joins the court of Frederick, and becomes personally acquainted +with the emperor. The court would have made a worthy appearance, +portraying the best, greatest, and most remarkable men, collected from +the whole world, whose centre is the emperor himself. Here appears the +greatest splendor, and the truly great world. German character and +German history are explained. Henry converses with the emperor +concerning government and the empire; obscure hints of America and the +Indies. The sentiments of a prince,--the mystic emperor,--the book, "De +tribus impostoribus." + +Henry having now, in a new and higher method than in the Expectation, +lived through and observed nature, life, and death, war, the East, +history, and poetry, turns back into his mind as to an old home. From +his knowledge of the world and of himself arises the impulse for +expression; the wondrous world of fable now draws the nearest, because +the heart is fully open to its comprehension. + +In the Manesian collection of Minnesingers, we find a rather obscure +rival song of Henry of Ofterdingen and Klingsohr with other poets; +instead of this, jousting, the author would have represented another +peculiar poetic contest, the war of the good and evil principles in +songs of religion and irreligion, the invisible world contrasted with +the visible. "Out of Enthusiasm the poets in bacchanalian intoxication +contend for death." The sciences are poetized; mathematics also enters +the lists. The plants of India are commemorated in song; new +glorification of Indian mythology. + +This is Henry's last act upon the earth; the transition to his own +glorification. This is the solution of the whole work, the _Fulfilment_ +of the allegory which concludes the First Part. Everything is explained +and completed, supernaturally and yet most naturally. The partition +between Fiction and Truth, between the Past and the Present has fallen +down. Faith, Fancy, and Poetry lay open the internal world. + +Henry reaches Sophia's land, in Nature, such as might be allegorically +painted; after having conversed with Klingsohr concerning certain +singular signs and omens. These are mostly awakened by an old song +which he hears by chance, and in which is described a deep water in a +secluded spot. The song excites within him long forgotten +recollections; he visits the water, and finds a small golden key, which +a raven had stolen from him some time before, and which he had never, +expected to find. An old man had given it to him soon after Matilda's +death, with the injunction that he should carry it to the emperor, who +would tell him what to do with it. Henry seeks the emperor, who is +highly rejoiced and gives him an ancient manuscript, in which it is +written that the emperor should give it to that man who ever brought +him a golden key; that this man would discover in a secret place an old +talisman, a carbuncle for his crown, in which a space was yet left for +it. The place itself is also described in the parchment. After reading +the description, Henry takes the road to a mountain, and meets on the +way the stranger who first told him and his parents concerning the blue +flower; he converses with him about Revelation. He enters the mountain +and Cyane trustingly follows him. + +He soon reaches that wonderful land in which air and water, flowers and +animals, differ entirely from those of earthly nature. The poem at the +same time changes in many places to a play. "Men, beasts, plants, +stones and stars, the elements, sounds, colors, meet like one family, +act and converse like one race. Flowers and brutes converge concerning +men. The world of fable is again visible; the real world is itself +regarded as a fable." He finds the blue flower; it is Matilda, who +sleeps and has the carbuncle. A little girl, their child, sits by a +coffin, and renews his youth. "This child is the primeval world, the +close of the golden time." "Here the Christian religion is reconciled +with the Heathen. The history of Orpheus, of Psyche, and others are +sung." + +Henry plucks the blue flower, and delivers Matilda from her +enchantment, but she is lost to him again; he becomes senseless through +pain, and changes to a stone. "Edda (the blue flower, the Eastern +Maiden, Matilda) sacrifices herself upon the stone; he is transformed +to a melodious tree. Cyane hews down the tree and burns herself with +him. He becomes a golden ram. Edda, Matilda, is obliged to sacrifice +it. He becomes a man again. During these metamorphoses he has the very +strangest conversations." + +He is happy with Matilda, who is both the Eastern Maiden and Cyane. A +joyous spirit-festival is celebrated. All that has past was Death, the +last dream and awakening. "Klingsohr comes again as king of Atlantis. +Henry's mother is Fancy, his father, Sense. Swaning is the Moon; the +miner is the antiquary and at the same time Iron. The emperor Frederick +is Arcturus. The Count of Hohenzollern and the merchants also return." +Everything flows into an allegory. Cyane brings the stone to the +emperor; but Henry is now himself the poet of the fabulous tale which +the merchants had formerly related to him. + +The blissful land suffers yet again by enchantment, while subjected to +the changes of the Seasons. Henry destroys the realm of the Sun. The +whole work was to close with a long poem, only the beginning of which +was composed. + + + + + THE NUPTIALS OF THE SEASONS. + + + Deep buried in thought stood the new monarch. He was recalling + Dreams of the midnight, and every wonderful tale, + Which gathered he first from the heavenly flower, when stricken + Gently by prophecy, love all-subduing he felt. + He thought still he heard the accents deeply impressive, + Just as the guest was deserting the circle of joy; + Fleeting gleams of the moon illumined the clattering window, + And in the breast of the youth there raged a passionate glow. + Edda, whispered the monarch, what is the innermost longing + In the bosom that loves? What his ineffable grief? + Say it, for him would we comfort, the power is ours, and noble + Be the time when thou art the joy of heaven again.-- + "Were the times not so cold and morose, if were united + Future with Present, and both with the holy Past time; + Were the Spring linked to Autumn, and the Summer to Winter, + Were into serious grace childhood with silver age fused; + Then, O spouse of my heart, would dry up the fountain of sorrow, + Every deep cherished wish would be secured to the soul." + Thus spake the queen, and gladsomely clasped her the radiant beloved: + Thou hast uttered in sooth to me a heavenly word, + Which long ago over the lips of the deep-feeling hovered, + But on thine alone first pure and in season did light. + Quickly drive here the chariot, ourselves we will summon + First the times of the year, then all the seasons of man.-- + + +They ride to the sun, and first bring the Day, then the Night; then to +the North, for Winter, then to the South, to find Summer; from the East +they bring the Spring, from the West the Autumn. Then they hasten after +Youth, next to Age, to the Past and to the Future. + +This is all I have been able to give the reader from my own +recollection, and from scattered words and hints in the papers of my +friend. The accomplishment of this great task would have been a lasting +memorial of a new poesy. In this notice I have preferred to be short +and dry, rather than expose myself to the danger of adding anything +from my own fancy. Perhaps many a reader will be grieved at the +fragmentary character of these verses and words, as well as myself, who +would not regard with any more devout sadness a piece of some ruined +picture of Raphael or Corregio. + + L. TIECK. + + + + NOTES. + + + I. + +This _rifacimento_ of Arion's story is not mere mythological twaddle. +As allegories abound, and as in fact there is a suspicion that the +whole Romance may be only an allegory, an "Apotheosis of Poetry,"--the +reader must keep open his internal eye. + +Arion is the Spirit of Poetry as embodied in any age, whether in a +single voice, or many. This the age always attempts to drown,--seldom +with applause. The sailors are the exponents of an age, or its +critics. In the case of Arion, they belonged to a certain tribe of +Philistines,--not yet extinct.[5] There is a deep significance in the +fact, that they resolutely stopped their ears against the Poet's +song. The treasures of the Poet are his ideas of the good and the +beautiful, which he fetches from his far home; for he comes, "not +in entire forgetfulness." The fact, that Arion preferred jumping +overboard to being converted into a heave-offering, is typical of the +self-extinguishment and natural dissolution of the true soul, born into +a humanity which is not its counterpart, which cannot answer to it. +Those providential dolphins are a grateful posterity, which preserve +not only the Poet's treasures, but his memory. The conflict among the +sailors, too, has a deep meaning, hidden also in that old, wonderful +myth of the Kilkenny cats. + +But an allegory has many sides, like a genuine symphony. Each reader +will interpret all of them best from his own point of view. Should +Henry himself turn out to be Arion, the feat would only be one of +inverted transmigration, and not more extraordinary than the regular +method. + + + II. + +An opportunity is taken to introduce some further remarks of the author +concerning History. They are found among a multitude of fragments, +arranged under the three heads of Philosophical, Critical, and Moral; +an amorphous heap of sayings, generally of great beauty and power. The +present have little connexion with the text, but will be their own +excuse. The total of his remarks will be seen to hint at a theory of +History, with which most school-histories and respectable annals are in +no wise infected. + +'Luck or fate is talent for history. The sense for apprehending +occurrences is the prophetic, and luck the divining instinct. (Hence +the ancients justly considered a man's luck one of his talents.) We +take delight in divination. Romance has arisen from the want of +history. + +'History creates itself. It first arises through the connexion of the +past with the future. Men treat their recollections much too negligently. + +'The historian organizes the historical Essence. The data of history +are the mass, to which the historian gives form, while giving +animation. Consequently history always presupposes the principles of +animation and organization; and where they are not antecedent there can +be no genuine historical _chef d'[oe]uvre_, but only here and there the +traces of an accidental animation, where a capricious genius has ruled. + +'The demand, to consider this present world the best, is exactly +analogous to that which would consider my own wedded wife the best and +only woman, and life to be entirely for her and in her. Many similar +demands and pretensions are there, which he who dutifully acknowledges, +who has a discriminating respect for everything that has transpired, is +historically religious, the absolute Believer and Mystic of history, +the genuine lover of Destiny. Fate is the mysticised history. Every +voluntary love, in the common signification, is a religion, which has +and can have but one apostle, one evangelist and disciple, and can be, +though not necessarily, an extra-religion (Wechsel-religion.) + +'There is a series of ideal occurrences running parallel with reality. +They seldom coincide. Men and chances usually modify the ideal +occurrence, so that it appears imperfect, and its results likewise. +Thus it was in the Reformation. Instead of Protestantism appeared +Lutheranism. + +'What fashions the man, but his _Life-History_? In like manner nothing +fashions great men, but the _World's-History_. + +'Many men live better in the past and future time, than in the present. + +'The Present indeed is not at all comprehensible without the Past, and +without a high degree of culture, an impregnation with the highest +products, with the pure spirits of the present and of previous ages; +all which assimilating guides and strengthens the human prophetic +glance, which is more indispensable to the human historian, to the +active, ideal elaborator of historic facts, than to the grammatical and +rhetorical annalist.' + + + III. + +Novalis seems here to rehearse his whole poetic creed; or rather, he +seems to be reviewing his own poems. What he deprecates, are the faults +he most avoids. He is distinguished for extreme simplicity, both in +style and language; and the thoughts, though lofty and sometimes vast, +are yet fresh, chaste, and comprehensible. They have a domestic +sublimity. They indicate simply an infinite expansion of the poet's +heart, whose mild and primeval denizens are undisturbed by the forced, +the foreign, or the shadowy. They have a oneness of design, and are +finished and luminous to the most minute criticism. If we say that +Novalis wrote as he was inspired, never attempting to superinduce what +was only galvanic upon the true life, and never daring to write when he +was not inspired, we both describe his genius and discover the secret +of his beauty. + +With one or two exceptions, the present romance is an unfavorable +specimen of his poetic powers. The subjects of most of the songs +require only that luminous simplicity alluded to, and are only fine +examples of a lyrical style, with a few glimpses of his true genius. +"Astralis," the poem that introduces the second part, is unlike the +rest of the volume, being an irregular, mystic embodyment of the hero's +destinies,--a recapitulation of the past and a presentiment of the +future. The romance is unfavorable, excepting one or two prose passages +of great sublimity, much resembling the "Hymns to the Night," one or +two of which are given below. The dream at the close of the sixth +chapter may be particularly designated. "The image of Death, and of the +River being the Sky in that other and eternal Country, seems to us a +fine and touching one: there is in it a trace of that simplicity, that +soft, still pathos, which are characteristics of Novalis, and doubtless +the highest of his specially poetic gifts." But it is in his Spiritual +Songs that we gain a glimpse of his true genius. They are eminently +devotional, and indiscriminately addressed to the Father, the Son, and +the Holy Virgin. A translation of the mass of them would form a most +desirable hymn book for the Christian, though, to be sure, it would be +very graceless to supplant worthy old Dr. Watts. But they are very +sweet and touching, and full of pious fervor. We have been struck with +the similarity of their tone to those of George Herbert, who stands +with the Father and the Son at the very door of his heart, with tearful +and familiar supplication for them to enter. + + + "Geusz, Vater, Ihn gewaltig aus, + Gib Ihn aus deinem Arm heraus: + _Nur Unschuld, Lieb' und süsze Scham_ + _Hielt Ihn, dasz er nicht längst schon kam_. + + "Treib' Ihn von dir in unsern Arm, + _Dasz er von deinem Hauch noch warm_; + In schweren Wolken sammle ihn, + Und lasz Ihn so hernieder ziehn." + + +Among his promiscuous poems is a beautiful lyric, representing the +triumph of Faith over Sorrow, under the symbol of a beautiful child +bringing to him a wand, beneath whose touch the Queen of Serpents +yields to him the "precious jewel." + +The following is the first Hymn to the Night: + +"What living, sense-endowed being loves not, before all the prodigies +of the far extending space around him, the all-rejoicing light with its +colors, its beams and billows, its mild omnipresence, as waking day? +The restless giant-world of the stars, swimming with dancing motion in +its azure flood. Inhales it as its life's inmost soul; the sparkling, +ever-resting stone, the sensitive, imbibing plant, and the wild, +burning, many-shaped animal, inhale it; but before all, the glorious +stranger, with the speaking eyes, the uncertain gait, and the gently +closed, melodious lips. Like a king of earthly nature, it summons each +power to countless transformations, ratifies and dissolves treaties in +infinite number, and suspends its heavenly image on every earthly +being. Its presence alone reveals the wondrous splendor of creation's +realms. + +"I turn aside to the holy, ineffable, mysterious Night. Far away lies +the world, sunk in a depth profound waste and lonely is its place. O'er +the chords of the bosom waveth deep sadness. I will dissolve into dew +drops, and mingle myself with the ashes. Distance of memory, wishes of +youth, dreams of childhood, the short joys and vain hopes of a whole +long life, flit by me in robes of gray, like evening clouds after +sunset. In other spaces Light has pitched its merry tents. Will it +never return to its children, who are waiting for it with the trusting +faith of innocence? + +"What swells now so forebodingly beneath the heart, and swallows up the +soft air of sadness? Hast thou also a pleasure in us, sombre Night? +What bringest thou beneath thy mantle, that with viewless power winds +its way to my soul? A costly balsam is dripping from thy hand, from thy +bunch of poppy. The drooping pinions of the mind thou bearest upward. +Dimly and ineffably we feel ourselves moved; a solemn countenance do I +see, in pleasing terror, that gently and full of devotion bendeth +towards me, and showeth dear youth hid in the infinite locks of the +mother. How poor and childish Light now appears to me! How welcome and +blessed the farewell of day! Only for this, because Night alienates +from thee thy servants, didst thou sow in the regions of space the +luminous balls, to proclaim thy omnipotence, thy return, in the times +of thy absence. More heavenly than yonder twinkling stars appear the +infinite eyes that Night opens in us. Their sight extends farther than +the palest of that numberless host; unbeholden to Light, they gaze +through the depths of a loving spirit, which fills a loftier space with +unspeakable rapture. Praised be the Queen of the world, the high +announcer of holy spheres, the nurse of blessed love! She sends me +thee, O dearly beloved, lovely sun of the Night. Now I awake, for I am +Thine and Mine; thou hast announced to me Night as my life, thou hast +made me a man. Consume my body with a spirit-glow, that in ether I may +mingle more closely with thee, and be thou my bridal night forever." + +The Beloved was Sophia; concerning whom he writes as follows:-- + + "Weissenfels, March 22d, 1797. + +"It is for me a mournful duty to inform you that Sophia is no more. +After unspeakable sufferings, borne with exemplary resignation, she +died on the 10th of March, at half past nine in the morning. She was +born on the 17th of March, 1783, and on the 15th of March, 1795, I +gained from her the assurance, that she would be mine. She has suffered +since the 7th of November, 1795. Eight days before her death I left her +with the strongest conviction, that I should never see her again. I +could not have endured to look impotently upon the terrible struggle of +blooming youth down-stricken, the fearful anguish of the heavenly +creature. Fate have I never feared. For three previous weeks I saw its +menaces. It has become evening about me, whilst I was yet gazing into +the morning-red. My sorrow is boundless, like my love. For three years +had she been my hourly thought. She alone has bound me to life, to my +country, and to my occupations. With her loss I am separated from +everything, for I scarcely have myself any longer. But it has become +evening, and it seems to me, as if I soon were about to depart, and so +would I gladly be tranquil, and see around me only kind, friendly +faces, and live entirely in her spirit, gentle and kindhearted, as she +was. + +"Cherished by me, as my own immortal Sophia, will be the friendship, +the assiduity with which you strove to render her last days serene. +Sophia still treasures your kindnesses with the warmest gratitude, and +I have felt a silent impulse to express to you this gratitude, united +with my own. You will pardon it to my love, when I tell you, that your +attention to Sophia's wishes, and that half year's residence with her, +now first has made you really dear to me.... I must cling to the past, +as I have nothing more to expect from the future. Farewell, and be +happier than + + Your friend, + HARDENBERG." + +But how soon does his grief become holy, and therefore a joy! The +letter is chiefly valuable as an introduction to the third Hymn to the +Night:-- + +"Once as I shed bitter tears, when my hope dissolved into pain flowed +away, and I stood alone by the barren hillock, which hid in a dark, +narrow space the form of my life; alone, as none had been before, +driven by unspeakable anguish, powerless, nothing left but a thought of +misery;--as I then looked about after aid, could neither move forward +nor backward, but clung to a fleeting, extinguished life, with infinite +longing,--then came from the blue distance, from the heights of my old +blessedness, a breath as of twilight, and at once the tie of birth, the +chain of Light, was rent asunder. Away flew the glory of earth, and +with it my sorrow; the sadness rushed together into a new, unfathomable +world; thou, Night's-inspiration, slumber of heaven, camest over me. +Gently the scene rose aloft; above it floated my unfettered, new-born +Spirit The hillock became a dust-cloud, and through it I saw the +transfigured features of my Beloved. Eternity lay in her eyes; I +grasped her hands, and the tears became a glittering, indissoluble tie. +Thousands of years flew away in the distance, like tempest-clouds. Upon +her neck I wept enrapturing tears at the thought of this new life.--It +was the first and only dream, and since then do I feel an eternal, +unchangeable faith in the heaven of Night, and its Sun my Beloved." + +Such is the melting tenderness, which is a chief element of his poetry, +such the cunning drug that embalms his genius! + + + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 1: Mährchen.] + +[Footnote 2: _Mutter_ or _Metallmutter_ is the gang or matrix that +contains the ore.] + +[Footnote 3: _Mährchen._] + +[Footnote 4: _Bacchischen Wehmuth_; the sadness that drives to +dissipation, not the Elysium of the morning after.] + +[Footnote 5: The word _Critic_ is derived from the Hebrew word [Hebrew: +krty] _executioner_; collectively, _executioners and runners_, from the +root [Hebrew: krt], _to cut_. Thus it gradually came to mean, to cut +and run. It is somewhat remarkable that the secondary meaning of the +noun is _Philistine_. See Gesenius in voc.; who also adds, "the +conjecture is not improbable that the Philistines sprang from Crete, +and that _Caphtor_ signifies [Greek: Krêtê]. Comp. Michælis Spicil. J. +1. p. 292-308. Supplemm. p. 1328." The proverbial character of the +Cretans is well known. + +The Rabbi Ben Hillel, who was of the tribe of Onagrites, defended the +oral traditions of the Jews against certain persons, who were disposed +to sniff somewhat. In his writings, the venerable Rabbi was accustomed +to designate them as Philistines--_mais nous avons change tout +cela_--and, in a felicitous allusion to the ancient narrative, +insinuated that the extraordinary discomfiture of so many Philistines +by a certain jaw-bone was explained upon the well known principle in +Hom[oe]opathy, whereby any nuisance is abated by the application of +homogeneous substances. This was in the infancy of that science. But +the learned Rabbi in his strictures did not anticipate the retort of +his opponent Judas Haggadosh, who called Ben Hillel "_the would-be +jaw-bone._"] + + + + + + + + THE END. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HENRY OF OFTERDINGEN *** + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law 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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +concept and trademark. 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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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Henry of Ofterdingen: A Romance</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Friedrich von Hardenberg</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: April 3, 2010 [eBook #31873]<br /> +[Most recently updated: July 26, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Charles Bowen</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HENRY OF OFTERDINGEN ***</div> + +<h1>HENRY OF OFTERDINGEN:</h1> + +<h3>A ROMANCE.</h3> + +<h4>FROM THE GERMAN OF</h4> + +<h2>NOVALIS,</h2> + +<h3>(FRIEDRICH VON HARDENBERG.)</h3> + +<hr class="W20" /> + +<h3> +CAMBRIDGE:<br/> +PUBLISHED BY JOHN OWEN.</h3> +<hr class="W10" /> +<h3>M DCCC XLII.</h3> + +<h4>Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1842,<br/> +BY JOHN OWEN,<br/> +in the Clerk's office of the District Court of the District of<br/> +Massachusetts.</h4> + +<div style="margin-right:65%"> +<h3>CAMBRIDGE PRESS:</h3> +<h4>LYMAN THURSTON AND WILLIAM TORRY.</h4> +</div> + +<h2>ADVERTISEMENT.</h2> + +<p class="normal"> +The present translation is made from the edition of Tieck and Schlegel. +The life of the author is chiefly drawn from the one written by the +former. The completion of the second part is also by the same writer.</p> + +<p class="normal">Richter said, in a prophetic feeling of the fate of his own +works, that +translators were like wagoners who carry good wine to fairs--but most +unaccountably water it before the end of the journey. Which allusion +and semi-confession is meant to take the place of the usual apology; +and the reader can proceed without farther preface.</p> + +<p class="normal"><i>Cambridge</i>, <i>June</i>, 1842.</p> + +<h2>ERRATA.</h2> + +<p class="hang1">Page xvi, line tenth from bottom, <i>for</i> tion. He <i>read</i> tion, +he</p> + +<p class="hang1">Page 22, line ninth from top, <i>for</i> work <i>read</i> woke</p> + +<p class="hang1">Page 66, first word of the poetry, <i>for</i> Though <i>read</i> Through</p> + +<h2>LIFE OF THE AUTHOR.</h2> + +<p class="normal">Probably some of the readers of this volume will feel an +interest in +the author's life. Although there are but few works, in which the mind +of the author is more clearly and purely reflected than in this; yet it +is natural that the reader should feel some interest in the outward +circumstances of one, who has become dear to him; and those friends of +Novalis, who have never known him personally, will be glad to hear all +that we can bring to light concerning him.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Baron of Hardenberg, the father of the author, was +director of the +Saxonian salt works. He had been a soldier in his younger days, and +retained even in his old age a predilection for a military life. He was +a robust, ever active man, frank and energetic;--a pure German. The +pious character of his mind led him to join the Moravian community; yet +he remained frank, decided, and upright. His mother, a type of elevated +piety and Christian meekness, belonged to the same religious community. +She bore with lofty resignation the loss, within a few successive +years, of a blooming circle of hopeful and well educated children.</p> + +<p class="normal">Friedrich von Hardenberg (Novalis) was born on the second of +May, in +the year 1772, on a family estate in the county of Mansfield. He was +the oldest of eleven children, with the exception of a sister who was +born a year earlier. The family consisted of seven sons and four +daughters, all distinguished for their wit and the lofty tone of their +minds. Each possessed a peculiar disposition, while all were united by +a beautiful and generous affection to each other and to their parents. +Friedrich von Hardenberg was weak in constitution from his earliest +childhood, without, however, suffering from any settled or dangerous +disease. He was somewhat of a day-dreamer, silent and of an inactive +disposition. He separated himself from the society of his playmates; +but his character was distinguished from that of other children, only +by the ardor of his love for his master. He found his companions in his +own family. His spirit seemed to be wakened from its slumber, by a +severe disease in his ninth year, and by the stimulants applied for his +recovery; and he suddenly appeared brighter, merrier, and more active. +His father, who was obliged by his business to be much of his time away +from home, entrusted his education for the most part to his mother, and +to family tutors. The gentleness, meekness, and the pure piety of his +mother's character, as well as the religious habits of both parents, +which naturally extended to the whole household, made the deepest +impression upon his mind; an impression which exerted the happiest +influence upon him throughout his whole life. He now applied himself +diligently to his studies, so that in his twelfth year he had acquired +a pretty thorough knowledge of the Latin language, and some smattering +of Greek. The reading of Poetry was the favorite occupation of his +leisure hours. He was particularly pleased with the higher kind of +fables, and amused himself by composing them and relating them to his +brothers. He was accustomed for several years to act, in concert with +his brothers Erasmus and Charles, a little poetical play, in which they +took the characters of spirits, one of the air, another of the water, +and the other of the earth. On Sunday evenings, Novalis would explain +to them the most wonderful and various appearances and phenomena of +these different realms. There are still in existence some of his poems +written about this period.</p> + +<p class="normal">He now applied himself too severely to study, especially to +history, in +which he took a deep interest. In the year 1789, he entered a +Gymnasium, and in the autumn went to Jena to pursue his studies there. +Here he remained until 1792, and then with his brother Erasmus entered +the University at Leipzig; he left the following year for Wittenberg, +and there finished his studies.</p> + +<p class="normal">At this time the French war broke out, which not only +interrupted his +studies greatly, but which also inspired him suddenly with so great a +desire to enter upon a military life, that the united prayers of his +parents and relations were scarcely able to restrain his wishes.</p> + +<p class="normal">About this time he became acquainted with Frederick Schlegel, +and soon +became his warmest friend; he also gained the friendship of Fichte; and +these two great spirits exerted a powerful and lasting influence upon +his whole life. After applying himself with unwearied ardor to the +sciences, he left Wittenberg for Arnstadt in Thuringia, in order to +accustom himself to practical business with Just, the chief judiciary +of the district. This excellent man soon became one of his nearest +friends. Shortly after his arrival at Arnstadt, he became acquainted +with Sophia von K., who resided at a neighboring country seat. The +first sight of her beautiful and lovely form decided the fate of his +whole life; or rather the passion, which penetrated and inspired his +soul, became the contents of his whole life. Often even in the face of +childhood, there is an expression so sweet and spiritual, that we call +it supernatural and heavenly; and the fear impresses itself on our +hearts, that faces, so transfigured and transparent, are too tender and +too finely woven for this life; that it is death or immortality that +gazes through the glancing eye; and too often are our forebodings +realized by the rapid withering of such blossoms. Still more beautiful +are such forms, when, childhood left behind, they have advanced to the +full bloom of youth. All who knew the betrothed of our author are +agreed, that no description could do justice to her beauty, grace, and +heavenly simplicity. She was in her fourteenth year when Novalis became +acquainted with her; and the spring and summer of 1795 were indeed the +blooming season of his life. Every hour he could spare from his +business was spent at Grüningen; and late in the fall of 1796, he was +betrothed to Sophia with the consent of her parents. Shortly after she +was taken severely sick with a fever, which, though it lasted but a few +weeks, yet left her with a pain in the side, which by its intensity +rendered unhappy many of her hours. Novalis was much alarmed, but was +quieted by her physician, who pronounced this pain of no consequence.</p> + +<p class="normal">Shortly after her recovery he departed for Weissenfels, where +he was +appointed auditor in the department of which his father was director. +He passed the winter of 1795-96 in business, hearing news from +Grüningen of a quieting character. He journeyed thither in the spring, +and found his betrothed to all appearance recovered. At this time his +brother Erasmus was taken sick, so that he left off his studies, and +devoted himself in a distant place to the chase and a forest life. His +brother Charles joined the army, and in the spring entered upon active +service. Thus Novalis lived quietly at home, his parents and sisters +forming his chief society, the other children being yet quite young. In +the summer, while he was rejoicing in the prospect of being soon united +to Sophia, he received information, that she was at Jena, and there on +account of ulceration of the liver, had undergone a severe operation. +It had been her wish, that he should not be informed of her sickness, +nor of the dangerous operation, till it was over. He hastened to Jena, +and found her in intense suffering. Her physician, one far famed for +his ability, could allow them to hope only for a very slow recovery, if +indeed she should survive. He was obliged to repeat the operation, and +feared that she would want strength to support her through the healing +process. With lofty courage and indescribable fortitude, Sophia bore up +against all her sufferings. Novalis was there to console her; his +parents offered up their sympathetic prayers; his two brothers had +returned and strove to be of service to the sorrowing one, as well as +to the suffering. In December Sophia desired to visit Grüningen again. +Novalis requested Erasmus to accompany her on her journey. He did so, +together with her mother and sisters, who had attended her at Jena. +After having accompanied her to her place of residence, he returned to +his residence in Franconia.</p> + +<p class="normal">Novalis was now by turns in Weissenfels and Grüningen. With +great +grief, however, he was obliged to confess, that he found Sophia worse +and worse at every visit. Towards the end of January, 1797, Erasmus +also returned to Weissenfels very sick, and the expected deaths of two +beings, so much beloved, filled the house with gloom.</p> + +<p class="normal">The 17th of March was Sophia's fifteenth birthday, and on the +19th, +about noon, she fell asleep in the arms of her sisters, and faithful +instructress Mademoiselle Danscour, who loved her tenderly. No one +dared bring the news to Novalis, until his brother Charles at last +undertook the mournful office. For three days and nights, the mourner +shut himself up from his friends, weeping away the hours, and then +hastened to Arnstadt, that he might be with his truest friends, and +nearer to the beloved place, which contained the remains of her who was +dearest to him. On the 14th of April, he also lost his brother Erasmus. +Novalis writing to his brother Charles, who had been obliged to travel +to Lower Saxony, says, speaking of the death of Erasmus, "Be consoled; +Erasmus has conquered; the flowers of the lovely wreath are dropping +off, one by one, to be united more beautifully in Heaven."</p> + +<p class="normal">At this time Novalis, living as he did only for suffering, +naturally +regarded the visible and the invisible world as one, and regarded life +and death as distinguished only by our longing for the latter. At the +same time life was transfigured before him, and his whole being flowed +together as in a clear conscious dream of a higher existence. His +sensibilities, as well as his imagination, were very much decided from +the solemnity of his suffering, from his heartfelt love, and from the +pious longing for death, which he cherished. It is indeed very +possible, that deep sorrow at this time planted the death-seed in him; +unless perhaps it was his irrevocable destiny, to be so early torn +away.</p> + +<p class="normal">He remained many weeks in Thuringia, and returned consoled and +truly +exalted to his business, which he pursued more eagerly than ever, +though he regarded himself as a stranger upon earth. About this time, +some earlier, some later, but particularly during the fall of this +year, he composed most of those pieces, which have been published under +the title of "Fragments," as also his "Hymns to Night."</p> + +<p class="normal">In December of this year, he went to Freiberg, where the +acquaintance +and instruction of the renowned Werner awoke anew his passion for +physical science, and especially for mining. Here he became acquainted +with Julia von Ch.; and, strange as it may appear to all but his +intimate friends, he was betrothed to her, as early as the year 1798. +Sophia (as we may see from his works) remained the balancing point of +his thoughts; he honored her, absent as she was, even more than when +present with him; but yet he thought that loveliness and beauty could, +to a certain degree, replace her loss. About this time he wrote "Faith +and Love," the "Flower Dust," and some other fragments, as "The Pupils +at Sais." In the spring of 1799, Sophia's instructress died; which +event moved Novalis the more deeply, because he knew that sorrow for +the loss of her beloved pupil had chiefly contributed to hasten her +death. Soon after this event he returned to the paternal estate, and +was appointed under his father Assessor and chief Judiciary of the +Thuringian district.</p> + +<p class="normal">He now visited Jena often, and there became acquainted with A. +W. +Schlegel, and sought out the gifted Ritter, whom he particularly loved, +and whose peculiar talent for experimenting he greatly admired. Ludwig +Tieck saw him this year for the first time, while on a visit to his +friend Wm. Schlegel. Their acquaintance soon ripened into a warm +friendship. These friends, in company with Schlegel, Schelling, and +other strangers, passed many happy days in Jena. On his return, Tieck +visited Novalis at his father's house, became acquainted with his +family, and for the first time listened to the reading of "the Pupils +at Sais," and many of his fragments. He then accompanied him to Halle, +and many hours were peacefully passed in Reichardt's house. His first +conception of Henry of Ofterdingen dates about this time. He had also +already written some of his spiritual songs; they were to make a part +of a hymn book, which he intended to accompany with a volume of +sermons. Besides these labors he was very industrious in the duties of +his office; all his duties were attended to with willingness, and +nothing of however little importance was insignificant to him.</p> + +<p class="normal">When Tieck, in the autumn of 1799, took up his residence at +Jena, and +Frederick Schlegel also dwelt there, Novalis often visited them, +sometimes for a short, and sometimes for a longer time. His eldest +sister was married about this time, and the wedding was celebrated at a +country seat near Jena. After this marriage Novalis lived for a long +time in a lonely place in the golden meadow of Thuringia, at the foot +of the Kyffhauser mountain; and in this solitude he wrote a great part +of Henry of Ofterdingen. His society this year was mostly confined to +that of two men; a brother-in-law of his betrothed, the present General +von Theilman, and the present General von Funk, to whom he had been +introduced by the former. The society of the last-mentioned person was +valuable to him in more than one respect. He made use of his library, +among whose chronicles he, in the spring, first hit upon the traditions +of Ofterdingen; and by means of the excellent biography of the emperor +Frederick the Second, by General von Funk, he became entirely possessed +with lofty ideas concerning that ruler, and determined to represent him +in his romance as a pattern for a king.</p> + +<p class="normal">In the year 1800, Novalis was again at Weissenfels, whence, on +the 23d +of February, he wrote to Tieck,--"My Romance is getting along finely. +About twelve printed sheets are finished. The whole plan is pretty much +laid out in my mind. It will consist of two parts; the first, I hope, +will be finished in three weeks. It contains the basis and introduction +to the second part. The whole may be called an Apotheosis of Poesy. +Henry of Ofterdingen becomes in the first part ripe for a poet, and in +the second part is declared poet. It will in many respects be similar +to Sternbald, except in lightness. However, this want will not probably +be unfavorable to the contents. In every point of view it is a first +attempt, the print of that spirit of poesy, which your acquaintance has +reawakened in me, and which gives to your friendship its chief value.</p> + +<p class="normal">"There are some songs in it, which suit my taste. I am very +much +pleased with the real romance,--my head is really dizzy with the +multitude of ideas I have gathered for romances and comedies. If I can +visit you soon, I will bring you a tale and a fable from my romance, +and will subject them to your criticism." He visited his friends at +Jena the next spring, and soon repeated his visit, bringing the first +part of Henry of Ofterdingen, in the same form as that of which this +volume is a translation.</p> + +<p class="normal">When Tieck, in the summer of 1800, left Jena, he visited his +friend for +some time at his father's house. He was well and calm in his spirits; +though his family were somewhat alarmed about him, thinking that they +noticed, that he was continually growing paler and thinner. He himself +was more attentive than usual to his diet; he drank little or no wine, +ate scarcely any meat, living principally on milk and vegetables. "We +took daily walks," says Tieck, "and rides on horseback. In ascending a +hill swiftly, or in any violent motion, I could observe neither +weakness in his breast nor short breath, and therefore endeavored to +persuade him to forsake his strict mode of life; because I thought his +abstemiousness from wine and strengthening food not only irritating in +itself, but also to proceed from a false anxiety on his part. He was +full of plans for the future; his house was already put in order, for +in August he intended to celebrate his nuptials. He spake with great +pleasure of finishing Ofterdingen and other works. His life gave +promise of the most useful activity and love. When I took leave of him, +I never could have imagined that we were not to meet again."</p> + +<p class="normal">When in August he was about departing for Freiberg to +celebrate his +marriage, he was seized with an emission of blood, which his physician +declared to be mere hemorrhoidal and insignificant. Yet it shook his +frame considerably, and still more when it began to return +periodically. His wedding was postponed, and, in the beginning of +October, he travelled with his brother and parents to Dresden. Here +they left him, in order to visit their daughter in Upper Lausatia, his +brother Charles remaining with him in Dresden. He became apparently +weaker; and when, in the beginning of November, he learned that a +younger brother, fourteen years of age, had been drowned through mere +carelessness, the sudden shock caused a violent bleeding at the lungs, +upon which the physician immediately declared his disease incurable. +Soon after this his betrothed came to Dresden.</p> + +<p class="normal">As he grew weaker, he longed to change his residence to some +warmer +climate. He thought of visiting his friend Herbert; but his physician +advised against such a change, perhaps considering him already too weak +to make such a journey. Thus the year passed away; and, in January +1801, he longed so eagerly to see his parents and be with them once +more, that at the end of the month he returned to Weissenfels. There +the ablest physicians from Leipzig and Jena were consulted, yet his +case grew rapidly worse, although he was perfectly free from pain, as +was the case through his whole illness. He still attended to the duties +of his office, and wrote considerably in his private papers. He also +composed some poems about this time, read the Bible diligently, and +much from the works of Zinzendorf and Lavater. The nearer he approached +his end, the stronger was his hope of recovery; for his cough abated, +and, with the exception of debility, he had none of the feelings of a +sick man. With this hope and longing for life, fresh powers and new +talents seemed to awaken within him; he thought with renewed love of +his projected labors, and undertook to write Henry of Ofterdingen anew. +Once, shortly before his death, he said; "I now begin, for the first +time, to see what true poetry is. Innumerable songs and poems far +different from those I have written awake within me." From the 19th of +March, the day on which Sophia died, he became very perceptibly weaker; +many of his friends visited him, and he was particularly delighted +when, on the 21st of March, his faithful and oldest friend Frederick +Schlegel came to see him from Jena. He conversed much with him, +particularly concerning their mutual labors. During these days his +spirits were good, his nights quiet, and he enjoyed tranquil sleep. +About six o'clock on the morning of the 26th, he asked his brother to +hand him some books, in order to look out certain passages, that he had +in mind; he then ordered his breakfast, and conversed with his usual +vivacity till eight. Towards nine he asked his brother to play for him +on the piano, and soon after fell asleep. Frederick Schlegel soon after +entered the chamber, and found him sleeping quietly. This sleep lasted +till twelve o'clock, at which hour he expired without a struggle; and +unchanged in death his countenance retained the same pleasant +expression, that it exhibited during life.</p> + +<p class="normal">Thus died our author before he had finished his +nine-and-twentieth +year. In him we may alike love and admire his extensive knowledge and +his philosophical genius, as well as his poetical talents. With a +spirit much in advance of his times, his country might have promised +itself great things of him, had not an untimely death cut him off. Yet +his unfinished writings have already had their influence; many of his +great thoughts will yet inspire futurity; and noble minds and deep +thinkers will be enlightened and set on fire by the sparks of his +spirit.</p> + +<p class="normal">Novalis was slender and of fine proportions. He wore his light +brown +hair long, hanging over his shoulders in flowing locks, a style less +singular then than now; his brown eye was clear and brilliant, and his +complexion, particularly his forehead, almost transparent. His hands +and feet were rather too large, and had something awkward about them. +His countenance was always serene and benignant. To those, who judge +men by their forwardness, or by their affectation of fashion or +dignity, Novalis was lost in the crowd; but to the practised eye he +appeared beautiful. The outlines and expression of his face resembled +very much those of St. John, as he is represented in the magnificent +picture of A. Dürer, preserved in Nuremberg and München.</p> + +<p class="normal">His speech was clear and vivacious. "I never saw him tired," +says +Tieck, "even when we continued together till late at night; he only +stopped voluntarily to rest, and then read before he fell asleep." He +knew not what it was to be tired, even in the wearisome companionship +of vulgar minds; for he always found some one, who could impart some +information to him, useful, though apparently insignificant. His +urbanity and sympathy for all made him universally beloved. So skilful +was he in his intercourse with others, that lower minds never felt +their inferiority. Although he preferred to veil the depths of his mind +in conversation, speaking, however, as if inspired, of the invisible +world, he was yet merry, as a child, full of art and frolic, giving +himself wholly up to the jovial spirit prevailing in the company. Free +from self-conceit or arrogance, a stranger to affectation or +dissimulation, he was a pure, true man; the purest, loveliest spirit, +ever tabernacled in the flesh.</p> + +<p class="normal">His chief studies for many years were philosophy and physical +science. +In the latter he discovered and foretold truths, of which his own age +was in ignorance. In philosophy he principally studied Spinoza and +Fichte; but soon marked out a new path, by aiming to unite philosophy +with religion; and thus what we possess of the writings of the new +Platonists, as well as of the mystics, became very important to him. +His knowledge of mathematics, as well as of the mechanic arts, +especially of mining, was very considerable. But in the fine arts he +took but little interest. Music he loved much, although he knew little +about its rules. He had scarcely turned his attention to painting and +sculpture; still he could advance many original ideas about those arts, +and pronounce skilful judgment upon them.</p> + +<p class="normal">Tieck mentions an argument with him, concerning landscape +painting, in +which Novalis expressed views, which he could not comprehend; but which +in part were realized, by the rich and poetical mind of the excellent +landscape painter, Friedrichs, of Dresden. In the land of Poetry he was +in reality a stranger. He had read but few poets, and had not busied +himself with criticism, or paid much attention to the inherited system, +to which the art of poetry had been reduced. Goethe was for a long +while his study, and Wilhelm Meister his favorite work; although we +should scarcely suppose so, judging from his severe strictures upon it +in his fragments. He demanded from poesy the most everyday knowledge +and inspiration; and it was for this reason, that, as the chief +masterpieces of poetry were unknown to him, he was free from imitation +and foreign rule. He also loved, for this very reason, many writings, +which are not generally highly prized by scholars, because in them he +discovered, though perhaps painted in weak colors, that very informing +and significant knowledge, which he was chiefly striving after.</p> + +<p class="normal">Those tales, which we in later times call allegories<a name="div1Ref_ftn1" href="#div1_ftn1"><sup>1</sup></a> with +their +peculiar style, most resemble his stories; he saw their deepest +meaning, and endeavored to express it most clearly in some of his +poems. It became natural for him to regard what was most usual and +nearest to him, as full of marvels, and the strange and supernatural as +the usual and common-place. Thus everyday life surrounded him like a +supernatural story; and that region, which most men can only conceive +as something distant and incomprehensible, seemed to him like a beloved +home. Thus uncorrupted by precedents, he discovered a new way of +drawing and exhibiting his pictures; and in the manifold variety of his +relation to the world, from his love and the faith in it, which at the +same time was his instructress, wisdom, and religion, since through +them a single great moment of life, and one deep grief and loss became +the essence of his poesy and of his contemplation, he resembles among +late writers the sublime Dante alone, and like him sings to us an +unfathomable mystical song, very different from that of many imitators, +who think, that they can assume and lay aside mysticism as they could a +mere ornament. Therefore his romance is both consciously and +unconsciously the representation of his own mind and fate; as he makes +Henry say, in the fragment of the second part, "Fate and mind are but +names of one idea." Thus may his life justly appear wonderful to us. We +shudder too, as though reading a work of fiction, when we learn, that +of all his brothers and sisters only two brothers are now alive; and +that his noble mother, who for several years has also been mourning the +death of her husband, is in solitude, devoting herself to her grief and +to religion with silent resignation.</p> + +<h1>HENRY OF OFTERDINGEN.</h1> + + +<hr class="W20" /> + +<h2>PART FIRST.</h2> + +<h2>THE EXPECTATION.</h2> + +<h2>DEDICATION.</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Thou didst to life my noble impulse warm,</p> +<p class="i8">Deep in the spirit of the world to look.</p> +<p class="i8">And with thy hand a trusting faith I took,</p> +<p class="i6">Securely bearing me through every storm,</p> +<p class="i6">With sweet forebodings thou the child didst bless,</p> +<p class="i8">To mystic meadows leading him away,</p> +<p class="i8">Stirring his bosom to its finest play,</p> +<p class="i6">Ideal, thou, of woman's tenderness.</p> +<p class="i6">Earth's vexing trifles shall I not refuse?</p> +<p class="i8">Thine is my heart and life eternally,--</p> +<p class="i6">Thy love my being constantly renews!</p> +<p class="i8">To art I dedicate myself for thee,</p> +<p class="i6">For thou, beloved, wilt become the Muse</p> +<p class="i8">And gentle Genius of my poesy.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">In endless transmutation here below</p> +<p class="i8">The hidden might of song our land is greeting;</p> +<p class="i8">Now blesses us in form of Peace unfleeting,</p> +<p class="i6">And now encircles us with childhood's glow.</p> +<p class="i6">She pours an upper light upon the eye,</p> +<p class="i8">Defines the sentiment for every art,</p> +<p class="i8">And dwells within the glad or weary heart,</p> +<p class="i6">To comfort it with wondrous ecstasy.</p> +<p class="i6">Through her alone I woke to life the truest,</p> +<p class="i8">Drinking the proffered nectar of her breast,</p> +<p class="i6">And dared to lift my face with joy the newest.</p> +<p class="i8">Yet was my highest sense with sleep oppressed.</p> +<p class="i6">Till angel-like thou, loved one, near me flewest.</p> +<p class="i8">And, kindling in thy look, I found the rest.</p> +</div></div> + +<h2>THE EXPECTATION.</h2> + +<hr class="W10" /> + +<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<p class="normal">The parents had already retired to rest; the old clock ticked +monotonously from the wall; the windows rattled with the whistling +wind, and the chamber was dimly lighted by the flickering glimmer of +the moon. The young man lay restless on his bed, thinking of the +stranger and his tales. "It is not the treasures," said he to himself, +"that have awakened in me such unutterable longings. Far from me is all +avarice; but I long to behold the blue flower. It is constantly in my +mind, and I can think and compose of nothing else. I have never been in +such a mood. It seems as if I had hitherto been dreaming, or slumbering +into another world; for in the world, in which hitherto I have lived, +who would trouble himself about a flower?--I never have heard of such a +strange passion for a flower here. I wonder, too, whence the stranger +comes? None of our people have ever seen his like; still I know not why +I should be so fascinated by his conversation. Others have listened to +it, but none are moved by it as I am. Would that I could explain my +feelings in words! I am often full of rapture, and it is only when the +blue flower is out of my mind, that this deep, heart-felt longing +overwhelms me. But no one can comprehend this but myself. I might think +myself mad, were not my perception and reasonings so clear; and this +state of mind appears to have brought with it superior knowledge on all +subjects. I have heard, that in ancient times beasts, and trees, and +rocks conversed with men. As I gaze upon them, they appear every moment +about to speak to me; and I can almost tell by their looks what they +would say. There must yet be many words unknown to me. If I knew more, +I could comprehend better. Formerly I loved to dance, now I think +rather to the music."</p> + +<p class="normal">The young man gradually lost himself in his sweet fancies, and +feel +asleep. Then he dreamed of regions far distant, and unknown to him. He +crossed the sea with wonderful ease; saw many strange monsters; lived +with all sorts of men, now in war, now in wild tumult, and now in +peaceful cottages. Then he fell into captivity and degrading want. His +feelings had never been so excited. His life was an unending tissue, of +the brightest colors. Then came death, a return again to life; he +loved, loved intensely, and was separated from the object of his +passion. At length towards the break of day his soul became calmer, and +the images his fancy formed grew clearer, and more lasting. He dreamed +that he was walking alone in a dark forest, where the light broke only +at intervals through the green net-work of the trees. He soon came to a +passage through some rocks, which led to the top of a neighboring hill, +and, to ascend which he was obliged to scramble over the mossy stones, +which some stream in former times had torn down. The higher he climbed, +the more was the forest lit up, until at last he came to a small meadow +situated on the declivity of the mountain. Behind the meadow rose a +lofty cliff, at whose foot an opening was visible, which seemed to be +the beginning of a path hewn in the rock. The path guided him gently +along, and ended in a wide expanse, from which at a distance a clear +light shone towards him. On entering this expanse, he beheld a mighty +beam of light, which, like the stream from a fountain, rose to the +overhanging clouds, and spread out into innumerable sparks, which +gathered themselves below into a great basin. The beam shone like +burnished gold; not the least noise was audible; a holy silence reigned +around the splendid spectacle. He approached the basin, which trembled +and undulated with ever-varying colors. The sides of the cave were +coated with the golden liquid, which was cool to the touch, and which +cast from the walls a weak, blue light. He dipped his hand in the +basin, and bedewed his lips. He felt as if a spiritual breath had +pierced through him, and he was sensibly strengthened and refreshed. A +resistless desire to bathe himself made him undress and step into the +basin. Then a cloud tinged with the glow of evening appeared to +surround him; feelings as from Heaven flowed into his soul; thoughts +innumerable and full of rapture strove to mingle together within him; +new imaginings, such as never before had struck his fancy, arose before +him, which, flowing into each other, became visible beings about him. +Each wave of the lovely element pressed to him like a soft bosom. The +flood seemed like a solution of the elements of beauty, which +constantly became embodied in the forms of charming maidens around him. +Intoxicated with rapture, yet conscious of every impression, he swam +gently down the glittering stream. A sweeter slumber now overcame him. +He dreamed of many strange events, and a new vision appeared to him. He +dreamed that he was sitting on the soft turf by the margin of a +fountain, whose waters flowed into the air, and seemed to vanish in it. +Dark blue rocks with various colored veins rose in the distance. The +daylight around him was milder and clearer than usual; the sky was of a +sombre blue, and free from clouds. But what most attracted his notice, +was a tall, light-blue flower, which stood nearest the fountain, and +touched it with its broad, glossy leaves. Around it grew numberless +flowers of varied hue, filling the air with the richest perfume. But he +saw the blue flower alone, and gazed long upon it with inexpressible +tenderness. He at length was about to approach it, when it began to +move, and change its form. The leaves increased their beauty, adorning +the growing stem. The flower bended towards him, and revealed among its +leaves a blue, outspread collar, within which hovered a tender face. +His delightful astonishment was increasing with this singular change, +when suddenly his mother's voice awoke him, and he found himself in his +parents' room, already gilded by the morning sun. He was too happy to +be angry at the sudden disturbance of his sleep. He bade his mother a +kind good morning, and returned her hearty embrace.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You sleeper," said his father, "how long have I been sitting +here +filing? I have not dared to do any hammering on your account. Your +mother would let her dear son sleep. I have been obliged to wait for my +breakfast too. You have done wisely in choosing to become one of the +learned, for whom we wake and work. But a real, thorough student, as I +have been told, is obliged to spend his nights in studying the works of +our wise forefathers."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Dear father," said Henry, "let not my long sleep make you +angry with +me, for you are not accustomed to be so. I fell asleep late, and have +been much disturbed by dreams. The last, however, was pleasant, and one +which I shall not soon forget, and which seems to me to have been +something more than a mere dream."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Dear Henry," said his mother, "you have certainly been lying +on your +back, or else your thoughts were wandering at evening prayers. Come, +eat your breakfast, and cheer up."</p> + +<p class="normal">Henry's mother went out. His father worked on industriously, +and said; +"Dreams are froth, let the learned think what they will of them; and +you will do well to turn your attention from such useless and hurtful +speculations. The times when Heavenly visions were seen in dreams have +long past by, nor can we understand the state of mind, which those +chosen men, of whom the Bible speaks, enjoyed. Dreams, as well as other +human affairs, must have been of a different nature then. In the age in +which we live, there is no direct intercourse with Heaven. Old +histories and writings are now the only fountains, from which we can +draw, as far as is needful, a knowledge of the spiritual world; and +instead of express revelations, the Holy Ghost now speaks to us +immediately through the understandings of wise and sensible men, and by +the lives and fate of those most distinguished for their piety. I have +never been much edified by the visions, which are now seen; nor do I +place much confidence in the wonders, which our divines relate about +them. Yet let every one, who can, be edified by them; I would not cause +any one to err in his faith."</p> + +<p class="normal">"But, dear father, upon what grounds are you so opposed to +belief in +dreams, when singular changes, and flighty, unstable nature, are at +least worthy of some reflection? Is not every dream, even the most +confused, a peculiar vision, which, though we do not call it sent from +Heaven, yet makes an important rent in the mysterious curtain, which, +with a thousand folds, hides our inward natures from our view? We can +find accounts of many such dreams, coming from credible men, in the +wisest books; and you need only call to mind, to support what I have +said, the dream which our good pastor lately related to us, and which +appeared to you so remarkable. But, without taking those writings into +account, if now for the first time you should have a dream, how would +it overwhelm you, and how constantly would your thoughts be fixed upon +the miracle, which, from its very frequency, now appears such a simple +occurrence. Dreams appear to me to break up the monotony and even tenor +of life, to serve as a recreation to the chained fancy. They mingle +together all the scenes and fancies of life, and change the continual +earnestness of age, into the merry sports of childhood. Were it not for +dreams, we should certainly grow older; and though they be not given us +immediately from above; yet they should be regarded as Heavenly gifts, +as friendly guides, in our pilgrimage to the holy tomb. I am sure that +the dream, which I have had this night, has been no profitless +occurrence in my life; for I feel that it has, like some vast wheel, +caught hold of my soul, and is hurrying me along with it in its mighty +revolutions."</p> + +<p class="normal">Henry's father smiled humorously, and said, looking to his +wife, who +had just come in, "Henry cannot deny the hour of his birth. His +conversation boils with the fiery Italian wines, which I brought with +me from Rome, and with which we celebrated our wedding eve. I was +another sort of man then. The southern breezes had thawed out my +northern phlegm. I was overflowing with spirit and humor, and you also +were an ardent, charming girl. Everything was arranged at your father's +in grand style; musicians and minstrels were collected from far and +wide, and Augsburg had never seen a merrier marriage."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You were just now speaking of dreams," said Henry's mother. +"Do you +not remember, that you then told me of one, which you had had at Rome, +and which first put it into your head to come to Augsburg as my +suitor?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"You put me opportunely in mind of it," said the old man, "for +I had +entirely forgotten that singular dream, which, at the time of its +occurrence, occupied my thoughts not a little; but even that is only a +proof of what I have been saying about dreams. It would be impossible +to have one more clear and regular. Even now I remember every +circumstance in it, and yet, what did it signify? That I dreamed of +you, and soon after felt an irrepressible desire to possess you, was +not strange; for I already knew you. The agreeable and amiable traits +of your character strongly affected me, when I first saw you; and I was +prevented from making love to you, only by the desire of visiting +foreign lands. At the time of the dream my curiosity was much abated; +and hence my love for you more easily mastered me."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Please to tell us about that curious dream," said Henry.</p> + +<p class="normal">"One evening," said his father, "I had been loitering about, +enjoying +the beauty of the clear, blue sky, and of the moon, which clothed the +old pillars and walls with its pale, awe-inspiring light. My companions +had gone to see the girls, and love and homesickness drove me into the +open air. During my walk, I felt thirsty, and went into the first +decent looking mansion I met with, to ask for a glass of wine, or milk. +An old man came to the door, who perhaps at first regarded me as a +suspicious visitor; but when I told him what I wished, and he learned +that I was a foreigner, and a German, he kindly asked me into the +house, bade me sit down, brought out a bottle of wine, and asked me +some questions about my business. We began a desultory conversation, +during which he gave me some information about painters, poets, +sculptors, and ancient times. I had scarce ever heard about such +matters; and it seemed as if I had landed in a new world. He showed me +some old seals and other works of art, and then read to me, with all +the fire of youth, some beautiful passages of poetry. Thus the hours +fled as moments. Even now my heart warms with the recollection of the +wonderful thoughts and emotions, which crowded upon me that evening. He +seemed quite at home in the pagan ages, and longed, with incredible +ardor, to dwell in the times of grey antiquity. At last he showed me a +chamber, where I could pass the night, for it was too late for me to +return to the city. I soon fell asleep and dreamed.--I thought that I +was passing out of the gates of my native city. It seemed to me that I +was going to get something done, but where, and what, I did not know. I +took the road to Hartz, and walked quickly along, as merry as if going +to a festival. I did not keep the road, but cut across through wood and +valley, till I came to a lofty mountain. From its top I gazed on the +golden fields around me, beheld Thuringia in the distance, and was so +situated, that no other mountain could obstruct my view. Opposite lay +the Hartz with its dusky hills. Castles, convents, and whole districts +were embraced in the prospect. My ideas were all clear and distinct. I +thought of the old man, in whose house I was sleeping; and my visit +seemed like some occurrence of past years. I soon saw an ascending path +leading into the mountain, and I followed it. After some time I came to +a large cave; there sat a very old man in a long garment, before an +iron table, gazing incessantly upon a wondrously beautiful maiden, that +stood before him hewn in marble. His beard had grown through the iron +table, and covered his feet. His features were serious, yet kind, and +put me in mind of a head by one of the old masters, which my host had +shown me in the evening. The cave was filled with glowing light. While +I was looking at the old man, my host tapped me on the shoulder, took +my hand, and led me through many long paths, till we saw a mild light +shining in the distance, like the dawn of day. I hastened to it, and +soon found myself in a green plain; but there was nothing about it to +remind me of Thuringia. Giant trees, with their large, glossy leaves, +spread their shade far and wide. The air was very hot, yet not +oppressive. Around me flowers and fountains were springing from the +earth. Among the former there was one that particularly pleased me, and +to which all the others seemed to do homage."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Dear father," eagerly exclaimed Henry, "do tell me its +color."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I cannot recollect it, though it was so fixed in my mind at +the time."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Was it not blue?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Perhaps it was," continued the old man, without giving heed +to the +peculiar vehemence of his son. "All I recollect is, that my feelings +were so wrought up, that for a time I forgot all about my guide. When +at length I turned towards him, I noticed that he was looking at me +attentively, and that he met me with a pleasant smile. I do not +remember how I came from that place. I was again on the top of the +mountain; my guide stood by my side and said, 'You have seen the wonder +of the world. It lies in your power to become the happiest being in the +world, and, besides that, a celebrated man. Remember well what I tell +you. Come on St. John's day, towards evening, to this place, and when +you have devoutly prayed to God to interpret this vision, the highest +earthly lot will be yours. Also take notice particularly of a little +blue flower, which you will find above here; pluck it, and commit +yourself humbly to heavenly guidance.' I then dreamed that I was among +most splendid scenes and noble men, ravished by the swift changing +objects that met my eyes. How fluent were my words! how free my tongue! +How music swelled its strains! Afterwards everything became dull and +insignificant as usual. I saw your mother standing before me, with a +kind and modest look. A bright-looking child was in her arms. She +reached it to me; it gradually grew brighter; at length it raised +itself on its dazzling white wings, took us both in its arms, and +soared so high with us, that the earth appeared like a plate of gold, +covered with beautifully wrought carving. I only recollect, that, after +this vision, the flower, the old man, and the mountain appeared before +me again. I awoke soon after, much agitated by vehement love. I bade +farewell to my hospitable friend, who urged me to repeat my visit +often. I promised to do so, and should have kept my promise, had I not +shortly after left Rome for Augsburg, my mind being much excited by the +scenes I had witnessed."</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<p class="normal">St. John's day was past. Henry's mother had for a long time delayed +making a journey to Augsburg, her paternal home, to present her son to +his grandfather, who had never yet seen him. Some merchants, trusty +friends of the elder Ofterdingen, were just about travelling to +Augsburg on business. Henry's mother resolved to improve this good +opportunity of fulfilling her wishes; and this more especially, because +she had observed that Henry had lately been more silent, and more taken +up with his own gloomy fancies than usual. She saw that he was out of +spirits, or sick; and thought that a long journey, the sight of strange +people and places, and, as she secretly anticipated, the charms of some +young country girl would drive off the gloomy mood of her son, and make +him as affable and cheerful as was his wont. Her husband agreed with +her in her plans, and Henry was delighted beyond all bounds with the +idea of visiting a country, which, for a long time, he had looked upon +(owing to the many things he had heard concerning it, from his mother +and from travellers) as an earthly Paradise, and in which he had often +wished himself.</p> + +<p class="normal">Henry was just twenty years old. He had never passed the +environs of +his native city; the world was known to him only by report; only a few +books had come within his reach. The course of life at the Landgrave +was simple and quiet, according to the customs of the times; and the +splendor and comfort of princely life, in those days, could but poorly +compare with the conveniences, which, in our times, a private man can +obtain for himself and family, without extravagance. Yet by reason of +their very scarcity, a regard, almost approaching tenderness, was felt, +in those times, for household furniture, and the conveniences of life. +They were considered more valuable and curious. The secrets of nature, +and the origin of its bodies, hardly attracted the notice of thinking +minds, more than these scarce specimens of art and workmanship. This +regard, too, for these silent companions of life was much heightened, +by the distance from which they were brought, and by that charm of +antiquity which gathered around furniture, often the property of +successive generations; an heir-loom from father to son. They were +often raised to the rank of pledges of a peculiar blessing and destiny; +and the weal of whole kingdoms and far-scattered families depended upon +their preservation. A poverty, fair in its features, adorned that age +with a simplicity, full of significance and innocence. The treasures, +so sparingly scattered in that dawn, shone the more brightly, and gave +rise to many significant ideas in the thoughtful mind. If it is true +that a proper division of light, color, and shade reveals the hidden +splendor of the visible world, and opens for itself a new eye of a +higher character; such a division and splendor were to be seen then; +while these newer and more prosperous times represent the monotonous +and insignificant picture of a common day. In all transitions, as in an +interregnum, it appears as if a higher spiritual power were revealing +itself; and as, upon the surface of our earth, the countries, richest +both in subterraneous and super-terraneous treasures, lie between +wild, inhospitable, hoary rocks, and immense plains; so also a +deep-reflecting, romantic period made its appearance between the rough +ages of barbarism, and the cultivated, enlightened, and wealthy age, +which under a coarse garb conceals a still more beautiful form. Who +does not love to wander at twilight, when the light of day and the deep +shades of night mingle together in deep coloring? On this principle, we +are glad to carry ourselves, in imagination, back to the years when +Henry lived, who now went to meet the new circumstances, which might +encompass him, with a swelling heart. He took leave of his companions +and his instructer, the old and wise preacher, who knew the fertility +of Henry's genius, and who bade him farewell, with a feeling heart and +a silent prayer. The countess was his grandmother. He had often visited +her at Wartburg. He now separated from his protectress, who gave him +good counsel, and a golden chain, and who took leave of him with +expressions of friendship. It was with a sad heart that Henry left his +father and his birthplace. He now experienced for the first time what +separation was. His imaginings as to the journey had not been +accompanied with that peculiar feeling, which now filled his breast, +when, for the first time, the scenes of his youth were snatched from +his view, and he was cast, as it were, upon a foreign shore. Great +indeed is our youthful sorrow at this first experience of the +instability of earthly things, an experience necessary and +indispensable to the inexperienced mind, firmly connected with and +certain as our own existence. Our first separation remains, like the +first announcement of death, never to be forgotten, and becomes, after +it has long terrified us like a nightly vision, when at last joy at the +appearance of a new day decreases, and the longing after a fixed, safer +world increases, a friendly guide and a consoling and familiar idea. It +comforted the young man much, that his mother was with him. The world +he was leaving did not yet appear entirely lost, and he embraced her +with redoubled fondness. It was early in the day, when the travellers +rode from the gates of Eisenach, and the fresh daybreak was favorable +to Henry's excited mood. The clearer the day grew, the more remarkable +seemed to him the new and unknown scenes which surrounded him; and when +upon a hill, just as the landscape behind him was illuminated by the +rays of the rising sun, there occurred to him in the gloomy change of +his thoughts some of the old melodies he knew by heart. He found +himself in the swell of the distance, towards which he had often gazed +from the neighboring mountains, where he had often wished himself in +vain, and which he had painted to himself with peculiar colors. He was +on the point of dipping himself in its blue flood. The wonderful flower +stood before him, and he looked towards Thuringia, which he now left +behind him, with the strong idea, that he was returning to his +fatherland, after long wanderings from the country, towards which they +now were travelling, and as if in reality he was journeying homewards.</p> + +<p class="normal">The company, which at first had been silent from similar +causes, began +by degrees to wake up, and to shorten the time by various conversation +and stories. Henry's mother felt it her duty to rouse him from the +dreamings, in which she saw him sunken; and began to tell him of her +father's land, of her father's house, and of the pleasant life in +Swabia. The merchants joined in, and confirmed what his mother said. +They praised the hospitality of the old man Swaning, and could not +sufficiently extol the beauteous fair ones of the country of their +travelling companion.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You do well," said they, "in taking your son thither. The +customs of +your native country are of the most refined and pleasing character. +They know how to attend to what is useful, without despising the +agreeable. Every one endeavors to satisfy his wants in a social and +charming way. The merchant is well treated and respected. The arts and +mechanics are increased and ennobled; work appears easier to the +industrious man, because it helps him to many pleasures, and because, +as a reward for steady industry, he is sure to enjoy the manifold +fruits of various and profitable employments. Money, industry, and +goods reciprocally produce each other, and float along in busy circles. +The country, as well as the cities, flourishes. The more industriously +the day is employed, the more exclusively is the evening devoted to the +charming pleasures drawn from the fine arts, and to social intercourse. +The mind seeks recreation and change; and where could it find it more +proper or more attractive, than in those unchecked diversions, and in +those productions of its noblest power, the power of embodying its +conceptions into realities. Nowhere can you have such sweet singers, or +find such excellent painters, or see in the dancing halls more graceful +movements or lovelier forms. The neighborhood of Switzerland is +distinguished for the ease of its manners and conversation. Your race +adorns society; and without fear of being talked about, can excite by +their charming behavior a lively emulation to chain the attention. The +stern fortitude and the wild jovialty of the men make room for a mild +vivacity and a tender and modest joy, and love in a thousand forms +becomes the leading spirit of their happy companies. Far is it from the +truth, that dissoluteness or unseemly principles are by this course of +conduct developed. It seems as if the evil spirit shunned the approach +of innocent or graceful amusements, and certainly there are in no part +of Germany more irreproachable maidens, or more faithful wives, than in +Swabia.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes, my young friend, in the clear, warm air of southern +Germany you +will soon lay aside your bashfulness; the youthful maidens will soon +render you easy and talkative. Your name alone, as a stranger and as a +relative of the old Swaning, who is the delight of every pleasant +company, will attract the pleasant gaze of the maidens towards you; and +if you follow the will of your grandfather, you will certainly bring to +our native city, as did your father, an ornament in the form of a +lovely woman."</p> + +<p class="normal">Henry's mother thanked them with a modest blush, for their +distinguished praise bestowed on her fatherland, and for their good +opinion of her countrywomen. Henry, full of thought, could not help +listening attentively and with heart-felt pleasure to the description +of the land, which he saw before him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Although you do not take up your father's trade," continued +the +merchants, "but rather, as we have been told, spend your time in the +pursuit of knowledge, yet you need not become one of the clergy, or +renounce the pleasantest enjoyments of this life. It is bad enough that +all learning is in the hands of an order, so separated from worldly +life, and that the rulers are counselled by such unsociable and really +inexperienced men. In solitude, where they have no share in worldly +affairs, their thoughts must take a useless turn, and cannot be applied +to everyday concerns. In Swabia you can find both wise and experienced +men among the laity, and you need only choose what branch of human +knowledge you prefer; for you cannot want there good teachers and +advisers."</p> + +<p class="normal">After a while Henry, whose thoughts had been led by this +conversation +to the old court-preacher, said; "Although ignorant as I am of the real +condition of the world, I do not exactly rebel against your opinion, as +to the ability of the clergy to guide and judge of worldly affairs; +yet I hope I may be permitted to put you in mind of our excellent +court-preacher, who certainly is a pattern of a wise man, and whose +instructions and counsels I can never forget."</p> + +<p class="normal">"We revere with our whole hearts," replied the merchants, +"that +excellent man; but we can agree with your opinion, only so far as you +speak of that wisdom, which concerns a life well pleasing to God. If +you consider him as wise in worldly affairs, as he is experienced and +learned in spiritual concerns, permit us to disagree with you. Yet we +do not believe that the holy man deserves any less praise, because by +the depth of his knowledge of the spiritual world, he is unable to gain +insight into and an understanding of earthly things."</p> + +<p class="normal">"But," said Henry, "is it not possible that that higher +knowledge would +fit you to guide impartially the reins of human affairs? May it not be +possible that childlike and natural simplicity more safely travels the +road through the labyrinth of human affairs, than that wild, wandering, +and partially restrained wisdom, which considers its own interest, and +which is blinded by the unspeakable variety and perplexity of present +occurrences? I do not know, but it seems to me, that there are two +ways, by which to arrive at a knowledge of the history of man; the one +laborious and boundless, the way of experience; the other apparently +but one leap, the way of internal reflection. The wanderer of the first +must find out one thing from another by wearisome reckoning; the +wanderer of the second perceives the nature of everything and +occurrence directly by their very essence, views all things in their +continually varying connexions, and can easily compare one with +another, like figures on a slate. You will pardon me, that I address +you, as it were, from my childish dreams; nothing could have emboldened +me to speak but my confidence in your kindness, and the remembrance of +my teacher, who for a long time has pointed the second way out to me as +his own."</p> + +<p class="normal">"We willingly grant you," said the kind merchants, "that we +are not +able to follow your train of thought; yet it pleases us that you so +warmly remember your excellent teacher, and treasure up so well his +lessons. It seems to us that you have a talent for poetry, you speak +your fancies out so fluently, and you are so full of choice expressions +and apt comparisons. You are also inclined to the wonderful,--the +poet's element."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I do not know whence it comes," said Henry; "I have heard +poets spoken +of before now; but have never yet seen one. I cannot even form an idea +of their curious art; but yet have a great desire to hear about it. I +feel that I wish to know many things, of which dark hints only are in +my mind. I have often heard people speak of poems, but I have never yet +seen one, and my teacher never had occasion to learn the art. Nor have +I been able to comprehend everything that he has told me concerning it. +Yet he always considered it a noble art, to which I would devote myself +entirely, if I should become acquainted with it. In old times it was +much more common than now, and every one had some knowledge of it, +though in different degrees; moreover it was the sister of other arts +now lost. He thought that divine favor had highly honored the +minstrels, so that inspired by spiritual intercourse, they had been +able to proclaim heavenly wisdom upon earth in entrancing tones."</p> + +<p class="normal">The merchants then said; "We have in truth not troubled +ourselves much +with the secrets of the poets, though we have often listened with +pleasure to their songs. Perhaps it is true that no man is a poet, +unless he is born under a particular star, for there is something +curious in this respect about this art. The other arts are very +different from it, and much easier to comprehend. The secrets of +painters and musicians can much more easily be imagined; and both can +be learned with industry and patience. The sound lies already in the +strings, and ability is all that is wanting, in order to move them, and +stir up each into a delightful harmony. In painting, nature is the best +instructress. She brings forth numberless beautiful and wonderful +forms, gives to them color, light, and shade; and a practised hand, an +exact eye, and a knowledge of the preparation and mixing of colors can +imitate nature to the life. How natural for us then to comprehend the +effect of these arts, and the pleasure derived from their productions. +The song of the nightingale, the whistling of the wind, and the +splendors of light, color, and form please us, because they strike our +senses agreeably; and as our senses are fitted for this by nature, +which also has the same effect, so must the artful imitation of nature +please us also. Nature herself will also draw enjoyment from the power +of art, and thence has she changed into man, and thus she now rejoices +herself over her noble splendors, separates what is agreeable and +lovely, and brings it forth by itself in such a way, that she can +possess and enjoy it in all ways and at all times and places. In the +art of poetry, on the contrary, there is nothing tangible to be met +with. It creates nothing with tools and hands. The eye and the ear +perceive it not; for the mere hearing of the words has no real +influence in this secret art. It is all internal; and as other artists +fill the external senses with agreeable emotions, so in like manner the +poet fills the internal sanctuary of the mind with new, wonderful, and +pleasing thoughts. He knows how to awaken at pleasure the secret powers +within us, and by words gives us force to see into an unknown and +glorious world. Ancient and future times, innumerable men, strange +countries, and the most singular events rise up within us, as from deep +hiding places, and tear us away from the known present. We hear strange +words and know not their import. The language of the poet stirs, up a +magic power; even ordinary words flow forth in charming melody, and +intoxicate the fast-bound listener."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You change every curiosity into ardent impatience," said +Henry. "I +cannot hear enough of these strange men. It seems to me all at once, as +if I had heard them spoken of somewhere in my earliest youth; but I can +remember nothing more about it. But what you have said to me is very +clear and easy to comprehend, and you give me great pleasure by your +beautiful descriptions."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is with pleasure," continued the merchants, "that we have +looked +back upon the many pleasant hours we have spent in Italy, France, and +Swabia in the society of minstrels, and we are glad that you take so +lively an interest in our discourse about them. In travelling through +so many mountains, there is a double delight in conversation, and the +time passes pleasantly away. Perhaps you would be pleased to hear some +of the pretty tales concerning poets, that we have learned in our +travels. Of the poems themselves, which we have heard, we can say but +little, both because the pleasure and charm of the moment prevent the +memory from retaining much; and because our constant occupations in +business destroy many such recollections.</p> + +<p class="normal">"In olden times, all nature must have been more animate and +spiritual +than now. Operations, which now animals scarcely seem to notice, and +which men alone in reality feel and enjoy, then put animate bodies into +motion; and it was thus possible for men of art to perform wonders and +produce appearances, which now seem wholly incredible and fabulous. +Thus it is said that there were poets in very ancient times, in the +regions of the present Greek empire, (as travellers, who have +discovered these things by traditions among the common people there, +have informed us,) who by the wonderful music of their instruments +stirred up a secret life in the woods, those spirits hidden in their +trunks; who gave life to the dead seeds of plants in waste and desert +regions, and called blooming gardens into existence; who tamed savage +beasts, and accustomed wild men to order and civilization; who brought +forth the tender affections, and the arts of peace, changed raging +floods into mild waters, and even tore away the rocks in dancing +movements. They are said to have been at the same time soothsayers and +priests, legislators and physicians, whilst even the spirits above were +drawn down by their bewitching song, and revealed to them the mysteries +of futurity, the balance and natural arrangement of all things, the +inner virtues and healing powers of numbers, of plants, and of all +creatures. Then first appeared the varied melody, the peculiar harmony +and order, which breathe through all nature; while before all was in +confusion, wild and hostile. And here one thing is to be noticed; that +although these beautiful traces for the recollection of these men +remain, yet has their art, or their delicate sensibility to the +beauties of nature been lost. Among other occurrences, it once happened +that one of this peculiar class of poets or musicians,--although music +and poetry may be considered as pretty much the same thing, like mouth +and ear, of which the first is only a movable and answering ear,--that +once this poet wished to cross the sea to a foreign land. He had with +him many jewels and costly articles, which he had received as tributes +of gratitude. He found a ship ready to sail, and easily agreed upon a +price for his passage. But the splendor and beauty of his treasures so +excited the avarice of the sailors, that they resolved among themselves +to take him, throw him overboard, and afterwards to divide his goods +with each other. Accordingly, when they were far from land, they fell +upon him, and told him that he must die, because they had resolved to +cast him into the sea. He begged them to spare his life in the most +touching terms, offered them his treasures as a ransom, and prophesied +that great misfortunes would overtake them, should they take his life. +But they were not to be moved, being fearful lest he should sometime +reveal their wickedness. When he saw at last that their resolution was +taken, he prayed them that at least they would suffer him to play his +swan song, after which he would willingly plunge into the sea, with his +poor, wooden instrument, before their eyes. They knew very well that, +should they once hear his magic song, their hearts would be softened +and overwhelmed with repentance; therefore they granted his last +request indeed, but stopped their ears, that not hearing his song, they +might abide by their resolution. Thus it happened. The minstrel began a +beautiful song, pathetic beyond conception. The whole ship accorded, +the waters resounded, the sun and the stars appeared at once in the +sky, and the inhabitants of the deep issued from the green flood about +them, in dancing hosts. The people of the ship stood alone by +themselves, with hostile intent waiting impatiently for the end of his +song. It was soon finished. Then the minstrel plunged with serene brow +down the dark abyss, carrying with him his wonder-working instrument. +Scarcely had he touched the glittering wave, when a monster of the deep +rose up beneath him, and quickly bore the astonished minstrel away. It +swam directly to the shore whither he had been journeying, and landed +him gently among the rushes. The poet sang a song of gratitude to his +saviour, and joyfully went his way. Sometime after the occurrence of +these events, he again visited the seashore, and lamented in sweetest +tones his lost treasures, which had been dear to him as remembrances of +happier hours, and as tokens of love and gratitude. While he was thus +singing, his old friend came swimming joyfully through the waves, and +rolled from his back upon the sand the long-lost treasures. The +boatmen, after the minstrel had leaped into the sea, began immediately +to divide the spoil. During the division a murderous quarrel arose +between them, which cost many of them their lives. The few that +remained were not able to navigate the vessel; it struck the shore and +foundered. They with difficulty saved their lives, and reached the +beach with torn garments and empty hands. Thus by the aid of the +grateful sea-monster, who had gathered them up from the bottom of the +sea, the treasures came into the hands of their original possessor." +[See <a name="div1Ref_note1" href="#div1_note1">Note I</a>. at the end.]</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<p class="normal">There is another story, continued the merchants after a pause, +certainly less wonderful and taken from later times, which yet may +please you and give you a clearer insight into the operations of that +wonderful art. There was once an old king, whose court was the most +splendid of his age. People streamed thither from far and near, in +order to share in the splendor of his mode of life. There was not +wanting the greatest abundance of costly delicacies at his daily +entertainments. There was music, splendid decorations, a thousand +different dramatic representations, with other amusements to pass away +the time. Nor did intellect fail to be represented there in the persons +of sage, pleasant, and learned men, who added to the entertainment and +inspiration of the conversation. Finally, there were added many chaste +and beautiful youth of both sexes, who constituted the real soul of the +charming festivals. The old king, otherwise a strict and stern man, +entertained two inclinations, which were the true causes of the +splendor of his court, and to which it owed its thanks for its +beautiful arrangement. The first of these inclinations was his love for +his daughter, who was infinitely dear to him, as a pledge of the love +of his wife, who had died in her youth, and to whom, for her marvellous +loveliness, he would have sacrificed all the treasures of nature, and +all the powers of human minds, in order to create for her a heaven upon +earth. The other was a real passion for poesy and her masters. He had +from his youth read the works of the poets with heart-felt delight, and +had spent much labor and great sums of money in the collection of the +poetical works of every tongue, and the society of minstrels was +especially dear to him. He invited them from all quarters to his court, +and loaded them with honors. He never grew wearied with their songs, +and for the sake of some new and splendid production often forgot the +most important business affairs, and even the necessaries of life. +Amidst such strains had his daughter grown up, and her soul became, as +it were, a tender song, the artless expression of longing and of +sadness. The beneficent influence, which the protected and honored +poets exerted, showed itself through the whole land, but particularly +at the court. Life, like some precious potion, was enjoyed in lingering +and gentle draughts, and in its purer pleasures; because all low and +hateful passions were shunned, as jarring discords to the harmony which +ruled all minds. Peace of soul, and beautiful contemplations of a +self-created happy world, had become the possession of this wonderful +time, and dissension appeared only in the old legends of the poets, as +a former enemy of man. It seemed as if the spirits of song could have +given no lovelier token of their gratitude to their protector, than his +daughter, who possessed all that the sweetest imagination could unite +in the tender form of a fair maiden. When you beheld her at the +beautiful festivals, amid a band of charming companions in glittering +white dress, intensely listening to the rival songs of the inspired +minstrels, and with blushes placing the fragrant garland around the +locks of the happy one, who had won the prize, you would have taken her +for the beautiful and embodied spirit of this art, conspiring with its +magic language; and you would cease to wonder at the ecstasies and +melodies of the poets.</p> + +<p class="normal">Yet a mysterious fate seemed to be at work in the midst of +this earthly +paradise; The sole concern of the people of that country was about the +marriage of the blooming princess, upon which the continuation of their +blissful times, and the fate of the whole land, depended. The king was +growing old. This care lay heavy at his heart; and yet no opening for +marriage showed itself, that was agreeable to the wishes of all. A holy +reverence for the royal family forbade any subject to harbor the idea +of proposing for the hand of the princess. She was hardly regarded as a +creature of this earth, and all the princes, who had appeared at court +with proposals, seemed so inferior to her, that no one thought that the +princess or the king could fix their eye on any one of them. A sense of +inferiority had by degrees deterred any suitors from visiting the +court, and the wide-spread report of the excessive pride of the royal +family seemed to take away from all others the desire to see themselves +equally humbled. Nor was this report entirely without foundation. The +king, with all his mildness of disposition, had almost unconsciously +imbibed a feeling of lofty superiority, which rendered every thought of +a connexion of his daughter with a man of lower rank and obscurer +origin unendurable and impossible to be entertained. Her high and +unparalleled worth had heightened this feeling within him. He was +descended from a very old royal family of the East. His consort had +been the last of the descendants of the renowned hero Rustan. His +minstrels continually sang to him of his relationship to those +superhuman beings, who formerly ruled the world. In the magic mirror of +their art the difference between the origin of his family and that of +other men, and the splendor of his descent, appeared yet clearer, so +that it seemed to him that he was connected with the rest of the human +family through the nobler class of the poets alone. He looked around in +vain for a second Rustan, whilst he felt that the heart of his blooming +daughter, the situation of his kingdom, and his increasing age rendered +her marriage, in all points of view, most desirable. Not far from the +capital, there lived, upon a retired country-seat, an old man, who +occupied himself exclusively with the education of his only son, except +that he occasionally assisted the country people by his advice in cases +of dangerous sickness. The young man was of a serious disposition, and +devoted himself exclusively to the study of nature, in which his father +had instructed him from childhood. The old man many years before had +arrived from a distance at this peaceful and blooming region, and was +content while enjoying the beneficent peace, which the king had spread +abroad through this retreat. He took advantage of this peace to search +into the powers of nature, and impart the pleasing knowledge to his son, +who gave evidence of much talent for the pursuit, and to whose +penetrating mind nature willingly confided her secrets. Without a lofty +power of understanding, the secret expression of his noble face, and +the peculiar brilliancy of his eyes, you would have called the +appearance of this youth ordinary and insignificant. But the longer you +gazed upon him, the more attractive he became; and you could scarcely +tear yourself from him, when you had once beard his soft impressive +voice, and the utterances which his glorious talents prompted. One day, +the princess, whose pleasure-garden adjoined the forest, which +concealed the country house of the old man in a little valley, had +betaken herself thither alone on horseback, that she might follow out +her fancies undisturbed, and sing to herself her favorite songs. The +fresh air of the lofty trees enticed her gradually deeper into their +shade, until at last she came to the house where the old man lived with +his son. Happening to feel thirsty, she alighted, fastened the horse to +a tree, and stepped into the house, to ask for a glass of milk. The son +was present, and was well nigh confounded by the enchanting appearance +of a majestic female form, which seemed almost immortal, adorned as it +was by all the charms of youth and beauty, and by that indescribable +fascinating transparency, revealing the tender, innocent, and noble +soul. While he hastened to gratify her desire, the old man addressed +her with modest respect, and invited her to be seated at their simple +hearth, which was placed in the middle of the house, and on which there +glimmered noiselessly a light blue flame. Immediately on entering, the +princess was struck with the varied ornaments of the room, the order +and cleanliness of the whole, and the peculiar sanctity of the place; +and her impression was heightened yet more by the venerable appearance +of the old man, poorly clad as he was, and by the modest behavior of +the son. The former recognised her immediately as a lady of the court, +judging this from her costly dress and noble carriage. While the son +was absent, the princess asked him about some curiosities which had +caught her eye, and especially concerning some old and singular +pictures, which stood at her side over the hearth, and which he kindly +undertook to explain to her. The son soon returned with a pitcher of +fresh milk, which he artlessly and respectfully handed her. After some +interesting conversation with the hosts, she gracefully thanked them +for their hospitality, and with blushes asked the old man's permission +to visit his house again, that she might enjoy his instructive +conversation concerning his wonderful curiosities. She then rode back +without having divulged her rank, as she noticed that neither the +father nor the son knew her. Although the capital was situated thus +near, they were both so buried in their studies, that they strove to +shun the busy world; and the young man had never been seized with the +desire of being present at the festivities of the court. He had never +been accustomed to leave his father alone for more than an hour at the +utmost, while roaming through the woods searching for insects and +plants, and sharing the inspiration of the mute spirit of nature +through the influence of its various outward charms. The simple +occurrences of this day were equally important to the old man, the +princess, and the youth. The first easily perceived the novel and deep +impression, which the unknown lady had made upon his son. He knew his +character perfectly, and was fully aware that such a deep impression +would last as long as his life. His youth, and the nature of his heart, +would of necessity render the first feeling of this nature an +unconquerable passion. The old man had for a long time looked forward +to such an occurrence. The exceeding loveliness of the stranger excited +an involuntary sympathy in the soul of his son, and his unsuspicious +mind harbored no troublesome anxiety about the issue of this singular +adventure. The princess had never been conscious of experiencing such +emotions as arose in her mind, while riding slowly homeward. She could +form no exact idea of the curiously mixed, wondrously stirring feelings +of a new existence. A magical veil was spread in wide folds over her +clear consciousness. It seemed to her that, when it should be +withdrawn, she would find herself in a more spiritual world than this. +The recollection of the art of poetry, which hitherto had occupied her +whole soul, seemed now like a far distant song, connecting her +peculiarly delightful dream with the past. When she reached the palace, +she was almost frightened at its varied splendor, and yet more at the +welcome of her father, for whom for the first time in her life she +experienced a distant respect. She thought it impossible for her to +mention her adventure to him. Her other companions were too much +accustomed to her reveries, and her deep abstractions of thought and +fancy, to notice anything extraordinary in her conduct. She seemed now +to lose some of her affable sweetness of disposition. She felt as if +she were among strangers, and a peculiar anxiety harassed her until +evening, when the joyful song of some minstrel, who chanted the praises +of hope, and sang with magic inspiration of the wonders which follow +faith in the fulfilment of our wishes, filled her with consolation, and +lulled her with the sweetest dreams.</p> + +<p class="normal">As soon as the princess had taken leave, the youth plunged +into the +forest. He had followed her among the bushes as far as the garden gate, +and then sought to return by the road. As he was walking along, he saw +some bright object shining before his feet. He stooped and picked up a +dark red stone, one side of which was wonderfully brilliant, and the +other was graved with ciphers. He knew it to be a costly carbuncle, and +thought that he had observed it in the middle of the necklace which the +unknown lady wore. He hastened with winged footsteps home, as if she +were yet there, and brought the stone to his father. They decided that +the son should return next morning to the road, and see whether any one +was sent to look for it; if not, they would keep it till they received +a second visit from the lady, and then return it to her. The young man +passed much of the night gazing at the carbuncle, and felt towards +morning irresistibly inclined to write a few words upon the paper in +which he wrapt it. He hardly knew himself the meaning of the words +which he wrote:</p> +<div class="poem"> +<p class="i6">A mystic token deeply graved is beaming</p> +<p class="i6">Within the glowing crimson of the stone,</p> +<p class="i6">Like to a heart, that, lost in pleasant dreaming,</p> +<p class="i6">Keepeth the image of the fair unknown.</p> +<p class="i6">A thousand sparks around the gem are streaming,</p> +<p class="i6">A softened radiance in the heart is thrown;</p> +<p class="i6">From that, the light's indwelling essence darts.</p> +<p class="i6">But ah, will this too have the heart of hearts?</p> +</div> +<p class="normal">As soon as the morning dawned, he took his way in haste to the +garden +gate.</p> + +<p class="normal">In the mean while the princess in undressing on the previous +evening, +had missed the jewel from her necklace. It was a memento from her +mother, and moreover a talisman, the possession of which insured to her +the liberty of her person, since with it she could never fall into +another's power against her will.</p> + +<p class="normal">This loss surprised more than it frightened her. She +remembered that +she had it the day before when riding, and was quite certain that it +was lost, either in the house of the old man, or on the way back +through the woods. She still remembered the exact road she had taken, +and concluded to go in search of it as soon as the day should break. +This idea caused her so much joy, that it seemed as if she was not at +all sorry for her loss, in the good pretence it gave to take the same +road once more. At daybreak she passed through the garden to the +forest; as she walked with unwonted speed, it was natural that her +bosom should feel oppressed, and her heart beat faster than usual. The +sun was beginning to gild the tops of the old trees, which moved with a +gentle whispering, as if they would waken each other from their drowsy +night-faces, in order to greet the sun together; when the princess, +startled by a rustling at some distance, looked down the road, and saw +the young man hastening towards her. He at the same time observed her.</p> + +<p class="normal">He remained a while standing as if enchained, and gazed +fixedly upon +her, as if to assure himself that her appearance was real and no +illusion. They greeted each other with subdued expressions of joy at +their meeting, as if they had long known and loved each other. Before +the princess could explain to him the reason of her early walk, he +handed her with blushes and a beating heart the stone in the inscribed +billet. It seemed as if the princess anticipated the meaning of the +lines. She took the billet silently and with a trembling hand, and +almost unconsciously hung a golden chain, which she wore about her +neck, upon him, as a reward for his fortunate discovery. He knelt +abashed before her, and could hardly find words to answer her inquiries +about his father. She told him in a half whisper, and with downcast +eyes, that she would with pleasure soon visit them again, and take +advantage of his father's promise to make her acquainted with his +curiosities.</p> + +<p class="normal">She thanked the young man again with unusual feeling, and +returned +slowly on her way without once looking back. The youth was speechless. +He bowed respectfully and gazed after her for a long time, until she +vanished behind the trees. In a few days she visited them again, and +after this her visits became frequent. The youth by degrees became the +companion of her walks. He accompanied her from the garden at an +appointed hour, and escorted her back again. She observed a strict +silence with respect to her rank, confiding as she otherwise was to her +attendant, from whom no thought of her heavenly soul was ever hidden. +The loftiness of her descent seemed to pour a secret fear into her. The +young man gave up to her likewise his whole soul. Both father and son +considered her a maiden of quality from the court. She clung to the old +man with the tenderness of a daughter. Her caresses lavished upon him +were the rapturous prophets of her tenderness towards his son. She was +soon perfectly at home in the wonderful house; and while she sang to +her lute her charming song with an unearthly voice, the old man and the +son sitting at her feet, the latter of whom she instructed in the +divine art; she learned on the other hand from his inspired lips the +solution of those riddles, which everywhere abound in the secrets of +nature. He taught her how by a mysterious sympathy the world had +arisen, and the stars been united in their harmonious order. The +history of the past became clear to her mind from his holy fables; and +how delightful it became, when in the height of his inspiration her +scholar seized the lute, and broke out with incredible skill into the +most admirable songs. One day, when seized by a peculiar romance of +feeling, she was in his company, and her powerful, long-cherished love +overcame at returning her customary, maiden timidity; they both almost +unconsciously sank into each other's arms, and the first glowing kiss +melted them into one forever. As the sun was setting, the roaring of +the trees gave notice of a mighty tempest. Threatening thunder-clouds +with their deep, night-like darkness gathered over them. The young man +hastened to carry his charge in safety from the fearful hurricane and +the crashing branches. But through the darkness and his fear for his +beloved, he missed the road, and plunged deeper and deeper into the +forest. His fear increased when he perceived his mistake. The princess +thought of the terror of the king and of the court. An unutterable +anxiety pierced at times like a consuming ray into her soul; and the +voice of her lover, who continually spoke consolation to her heart, +alone restored courage and confidence, and eased her oppressed bosom.</p> + +<p class="normal">The storm raged on; all endeavors to find the road were in +vain, and +they both thought themselves fortunate, when, by a flash of lightning, +they discovered a cave near at hand on the declivity of a woody hill, +where they hoped to find a safe refuge from the dangers of the tempest, +and a resting place from their fatigue. Fortune realized their wishes. +The cave was dry and overgrown with clean moss. The young man quickly +lighted a fire of brushwood and moss, by which they could dry their +garments; and the two lovers saw themselves thus strangely separated +from the world, saved from a dangerous situation, and alone at each +other's side in a warm and comfortable shelter.</p> + +<p class="normal">A wild almond branch, loaded with fruit, hung down into the +cave; and a +neighboring stream of trickling water quenched their thirst. The youth +had preserved his lute; and now they were entertained by its consoling +and cheering music, as they sat by the crackling fire. A higher power +seemed to have taken upon itself to loosen the knot more quickly, and +to have brought them under peculiar circumstances into this romantic +situation. The innocence of their hearts, the magic harmony of their +minds, the united, irresistible power of their sweet passion, and their +youth, soon made them forget the world and their relations to it, and +lulled them, under the bridal song of the tempest and the nuptial +torches of the lightning, into the sweetest intoxication, by which a +mortal couple ever has been blessed. The break of the light blue +morning was to them the awakening of a new, blissful world. +Nevertheless a stream of hot tears, which soon gushed forth from the +eyes of the princess, revealed to her lover the thousand-fold +anxieties, which were awakening in her heart. In one night he had grown +old in years, and had passed from youth to manhood. With an inspiring +enthusiasm, he consoled his mistress, reminded her of the holiness of +true love, and of the high faith which it inspired, and prayed her to +look forward with confidence from the good spirit of her heart to the +brightest future. The princess felt that his consolation was founded on +truth, revealed to him that she was the daughter of the king, and that +she feared only on account of the pride and anxiety of her father. +After mature consideration, they concluded what course to pursue, and +the young man immediately started to seek his father, and to make him +acquainted with their plan. He promised to be with her again soon, and +left her lost in sweet imaginings of what would be the issue of these +occurrences. The youth soon reached the dwelling of his father, who was +right glad to see his son return to him in safety. He listened to the +story and the plans of the lovers, and seemed willing to assist them. +His house was retired, and contained some subterraneous chambers, which +could not easily be discovered. Here the princess was to dwell. She was +brought thither at twilight, and received by the old man with deep +emotion. She afterwards often wept in her solitude, when her thoughts +reverted to her mourning father; yet she concealed her grief from her +lover, and told it only to the old man, who consoled her kindly, and +painted to her imagination her early return to her father.</p> + +<p class="normal">In the mean time the court had fallen into the greatest alarm, +when, at +evening, the princess was missing. The king was entirely beside +himself, and sent people in every direction to seek her. No man could +explain her absence. No one mistrusted that she was entangled in a love +affair, and therefore an elopement was not thought of. Moreover no +other person of the court was missing, nor was there any cause for the +remotest suspicion. The messengers returned without having accomplished +anything, and the king sank into the deepest dejection. It was only at +evening, when his minstrels came before him, bringing with them their +beautiful songs, that his former pleasure appeared renewed to him; his +daughter seemed near him, and he conceived the hope that he should soon +behold her again. But when he was again alone, his heart seemed like to +break, and he wept aloud. Then he thought within himself; "of what +advantage to me now is all this splendor and my high birth? Without +her, even these songs are mere words and delusions. She was the charm +that gave them life and joy, power and form. Would rather that I were +the lowest of my subjects. Then my daughter would still be with me; +perhaps also I should have a son-in-law, and my grandson would sit upon +my knees; then indeed I should be another king than I am now. It is not +the crown or the kingdom that makes the king; it is the full, +overflowing feeling of happiness, the satiety of earthly possessions, +the consciousness of perfect satisfaction and content. In this way am I +now punished for my pride. The loss of my wife did not sufficiently +humble me; but now my misery is boundless." Thus complained the king in +his hours of ardent longing. Yet at times his old austerity and pride +broke forth. He was angry with his own complaints; he would endure and +be silent as becomes a king. He thought even then that he suffered more +than all others, and that royalty was burdened with heavy care; but +when it became darker, and stepping into the chamber of his daughter he +beheld her clothes hanging there, and her little effects scattered +around, as if she had but a moment before left the chamber; then he +forgot his resolutions, exhibited all the gestures of sorrow, and +called upon his lowest servant for sympathy. All the city and country +wept and condoled with him, with their whole hearts. It is worthy of +remark, that it was noised abroad that the princess yet lived, and +would soon return with a husband. No one knew whence this report arose; +but every one clung to it with joyous belief, and awaited her return +with impatient expectation. Thus several months passed on, until spring +again drew nigh. "What will you wager," said some of sanguine +disposition, "that the princess will not return also?" Even the king +grew more serene and hopeful. The report seemed to him like a promise +from some kind power. The accustomed festivals were again renewed, and +nought seemed wanting but the princess to fill up the bloom of their +former splendor. One evening, exactly a year from the time when she +disappeared, the whole court was assembled in the garden. The air was +warm and serene; and no sound was heard but that of the gentle wind in +the tops of the old trees, announcing, as it were, the approach of some +far off joy. A mighty fountain, arising amid the torches, which with +their innumerable lights relieved the duskiness of the sighing +tree-tops, accompanied the varied songs with melodious murmurs sounding +through the forest. The king sat upon a costly carpet, and the court in +festal dress was gathered around him. The multitude filled the garden, +and encircled the splendid scene. The king at this moment was sitting +plunged in profound thought. The image of his lost daughter appeared +before him with unwonted clearness. He thought of the happy days, which +ended with the last year about that time. A burning desire overpowered +him, and the tears flowed fast down his venerable cheeks; yet he +experienced a hope, as clear as it was unusual. It seemed as if the +past year of sorrow were but a heavy dream, and he raised his eyes as +if seeking her lofty, holy, captivating form amidst the people and the +trees. The minstrel had just ended, and deep silence gave evidence of +deep emotion; for the poets had sung of the joys of meeting, of spring, +and of the future, as hope is accustomed to adorn them.</p> + +<p class="normal">The silence was suddenly interrupted by the low sound of an +unknown but +beautiful voice, which seemed to proceed from an aged oak. All looks +were directed towards it, and a young man in simple, but peculiar +dress, was seen standing with a lute upon his arm. He continued his +song, yet saluted the king, as he turned his eyes towards him, with a +profound, bow. His voice was remarkably fine, and the song of a nature +strange and wonderful. He sang the origin of the world, the stars, +plants, animals, and men, the all-powerful sympathy of nature; the +remote age of gold, and its rulers Love and Poesy; the appearance of +hatred and barbarism, and their battles with these beneficient +goddesses; and finally, the future triumph of the latter, the end of +affliction, the renovation of nature, and the return of an eternal +golden age. Even, the old minstrels, wrapped in ecstasy, drew nearer to +the singular stranger. A charm, they had never before felt, seized all +listeners, and the king was carried away in feeling, as upon a tide +from Heaven. Such music had never before been heard. All thought that a +heavenly being had appeared among them; and especially so, because the +young man appeared, during his song, continually to grow more beautiful +and resplendent, and his voice more powerful. The gentle wind played +with his golden locks. The lute in his hands seemed inspired, and +it was as if his intoxicated gaze pierced into a secret world. The +child-like innocence and simplicity of his face appeared to all +transcendant. Now the glorious strain was finished. The elder poets +pressed the young man to their bosoms with tears of joy. A silent +inward exultation shot through the whole assembly. The king, filled +with emotion, approached him. The young man threw himself reverently at +his feet. The king raised him up, embraced him, and bade him ask for +any gift. Then, with glowing cheeks he prayed the king to listen to +another song, and to decide as to his request. The king stepped a few +paces back, and the young stranger began:--</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Through many a rugged, thorny pass,</p> +<p class="i6">With tattered robe, the minstrel wends;</p> +<p class="i6">He toils through flood and deep morass,</p> +<p class="i6">Yet none a helping hand extends.</p> +<p class="i6">Now lone and pathless, overflows</p> +<p class="i6">With bitter plaint his wearied heart;</p> +<p class="i6">Trembling beneath his lute he goes,</p> +<p class="i6">And vanquished by a deeper smart.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">There is to me a mournful lot,</p> +<p class="i6">Deserted quite I wander here;--</p> +<p class="i6">Delight and peace to all I brought,</p> +<p class="i6">But yet to share them none are near.</p> +<p class="i6">To human life, and everything</p> +<p class="i6">That mortals have, I lent a bliss;</p> +<p class="i6">Yet all, with slender offering</p> +<p class="i6">My heart's becoming claim dismiss.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">They calmly let me take my leave,</p> +<p class="i6">As spring is seen to wander on;</p> +<p class="i6">And none she gladdens, ever grieve</p> +<p class="i6">When quite dejected she hath gone.</p> +<p class="i6">For fruits they covetously long,</p> +<p class="i6">Nor wist she sows them in her seed;</p> +<p class="i6">I make a heaven for them in song,</p> +<p class="i6">Yet not a prayer enshrines the deed.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">With joy I feel that from above</p> +<p class="i6">Weird spirits to these lips are bann'd,</p> +<p class="i6">O, that the magic tie of love</p> +<p class="i6">Were also knitted to my hand!</p> +<p class="i6">But none regard the pilgrim lone,</p> +<p class="i6">Who needy came from distant isles;</p> +<p class="i6">What heart will pity yet his own,</p> +<p class="i6">And quench his grief in winning smiles?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">The lofty grass is waving, where</p> +<p class="i6">He sinks with tearful cheeks to rest;</p> +<p class="i6">But thither winnowing the air,</p> +<p class="i6">Song-spirits seek his aching breast;</p> +<p class="i6">Forgetting now thy former pain,</p> +<p class="i6">Its burden early cast behind,--</p> +<p class="i6">What thou in huts hast sought in vain,</p> +<p class="i6">Within the palace wilt thou find.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Awaiteth thee a high renown,</p> +<p class="i6">The troubled course is ending now;</p> +<p class="i6">The myrtle-wreath becomes a crown,</p> +<p class="i6">Hands truest place it on thy brow.</p> +<p class="i6">A tuneful heart by nature shares</p> +<p class="i6">The glory that surrounds a throne;</p> +<p class="i6">Up rugged steps the poet fares,</p> +<p class="i6">And straight becomes the monarch's son.</p> +</div></div> +<p class="normal">So far he had proceeded in his song, and wonder held the +assembly +spell-bound; when, during these stanzas, an old man with a veiled +female of noble stature, carrying in her arms a child of wondrous +beauty, who playfully eyed the assembly, and smilingly outstretched its +little hands after the diadem of the king, made their appearance and +placed themselves behind the minstrel. But the astonishment was +increased, when the king's favorite eagle, which was always about his +person, flew down from the tops of the trees with a golden headband, +which he must have stolen from the king's chamber, and hovered over the +head of the young man, so that the band fastened itself around his +tresses. The stranger was frightened for a moment; the eagle flew to +the side of the king, and left the band behind. The young man now +handed it to the child, who reached after it; and sinking upon one knee +towards the king, continued his song with agitated voice:--</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">From fairy dreams the minstrel flies</p> +<p class="i6">Abroad, impatient and elate;</p> +<p class="i6">Beneath the lofty trees he hies</p> +<p class="i6">Toward the stately palace-gate.</p> +<p class="i6">Like polished steel the walls oppose,</p> +<p class="i6">But over swiftly climb his strains;</p> +<p class="i6">And seized by love's delicious throes,</p> +<p class="i6">The monarch's child the singer gains.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">They melt in passionate embrace,</p> +<p class="i6">But clang of armor bids them flee;</p> +<p class="i6">Within a nightly refuge place</p> +<p class="i6">They nurse the new-found ecstasy.</p> +<p class="i6">In covert timidly they stay,</p> +<p class="i6">Affrighted by the monarch's ire;</p> +<p class="i6">And wake with every dawning day</p> +<p class="i6">At once to grief and glad desire.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Hope is the minstrel's soft refrain,</p> +<p class="i6">To quell the youthful mother's tears;</p> +<p class="i6">When lo, attracted by the strain,</p> +<p class="i6">The king within the cave appears.</p> +<p class="i6">The daughter holds in mute appeal</p> +<p class="i6">The grandson with his golden hair;</p> +<p class="i6">Sorrowed and terrified they kneel,</p> +<p class="i6">And melts his stern resolve to air.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">And yieldeth too upon the throne</p> +<p class="i6">To love and song a Father's breast;</p> +<p class="i6">With sweet constraint he changes soon</p> +<p class="i6">To ceaseless joy the deep unrest.</p> +<p class="i6">With rich requital love returns</p> +<p class="i6">The peace it lately would destroy,</p> +<p class="i6">And mid atoning kisses burns</p> +<p class="i6">And blossoms an Elysian joy.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Spirit of Song! oh, hither come,</p> +<p class="i6">And league with love again to bring</p> +<p class="i6">The exiled daughter to her home,</p> +<p class="i6">To find a father in the king!</p> +<p class="i6">To willing bosom may he press</p> +<p class="i6">The mother and her pleading one,</p> +<p class="i6">And yielding all to tenderness,</p> +<p class="i6">Embrace the minstrel as his son.</p> +</div></div> +<p class="normal">The young man, on uttering these words, which softly swelled +through +the dark paths, raised with trembling hand the veil. The princess, her +eyes streaming with tears, fell at the feet of the king, and reached to +him the beauteous child. The minstrel knelt with bowed head at her +side. An anxious silence seemed to hold the breath of every one +suspended. For a few moments the king remained grave and speechless; +then he took the princess to his bosom, pressed her to himself with a +warm embrace, and wept aloud. He also raised the young man, and +embraced him with heart-felt tenderness. Exulting joy flew through the +assembly, which began to crowd eagerly around them. Taking the child, +the king raised it towards Heaven with touching devotion; and then +kindly greeted the old man. Countless tears of joy were shed. The poets +burst forth in song, and the night became a sacred festive eve of +promise to the whole land, where life henceforth was but one delightful +jubilee. No one can tell whither that land has fled. Tradition only +whispers us that mighty floods have snatched Atlantis from our eyes.</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<p class="normal">Several days' journey was accomplished without the least interruption. +The road was hard and dry, the weather refreshing and serene, and the +countries, through which they passed, fertile, inhabited, and +continually varied. The fertile Thuringian forest lay behind them. The +merchants, who had often travelled by the same road, were acquainted +with the people, and experienced everywhere the most hospitable +reception. They avoided the retired regions, and such as were infested +with robbers, or took a sufficient escort for their protection, when +obliged to travel through them. Many proprietors of the neighboring +castles were on good terms with the merchants. The latter visited them, +seeking orders for Augsburg. Much friendly hospitality was shown them, +and the old ladies with their daughters pressed around them with hearty +curiosity. Henry's mother immediately won their affection by her +good-natured complaisance and sympathy. They were rejoiced to see a +lady from the capital, who was willing to tell them new fashions, and +who taught them the recipes for many pleasant dishes. The young +Ofterdingen was praised by knights and ladies, on account of his +modesty and artless, mild behavior. The ladies lingered, too, with +pleasure upon his captivating form, which resembled the simple word of +some Unknown, which perhaps one scarcely regards, until, long after he +has gone, it gradually opens its bud, and at length presents a +beautiful flower in all the colored splendor of deeply interwoven +leaves, so that one never forgets it, nor is ever wearied of its +remembrance, but finds in it an exhaustless and ever-present treasure. +We now begin to divine the Unknown more exactly; and our presages take +form, till at once it becomes clear, that he was an inhabitant of a +higher world. The merchants received many orders, and parted from their +hosts with mutual hearty wishes, that they might see each other soon +again. In one of these castles, where they arrived towards evening, the +people were enjoying themselves right jovially. The lord of the castle +was an old soldier, who celebrated and interrupted the leisure of +peace, and the solitude of his situation, with frequent banquets; and +who, besides the tumult of war and the chase, knew no other means of +pastime, except the brimming beaker.</p> + +<p class="normal">He received the new guests with brotherly heartiness, in the +midst of +his noisy companions. The mother was conducted to the lady of the +castle. The merchants and Henry were obliged to seat themselves at the +merry table, where the beaker passed bravely around. Henry, after much +intreaty, was, in consideration of his youth, excused from pledging +every time; the merchants, on the contrary, did not find it much +against their tastes, and smacked the old Frank-wine with tolerable +gusto. The conversation turned upon the adventures of past years. Henry +listened attentively to what was said. The knights spoke of the holy +land, of the wonders of the sacred tomb, of the adventures of their +enterprise and voyage, of the Saracens in whose power some of them had +been, and of the joyous and wonderful life of field and camp. They +expressed with great animation their indignation, when they learned +that the heavenly birth-place of Christendom was in the power of the +unbelieving heathen. They exalted those great heroes, who had earned +for themselves an immortal crown, by their persevering endeavors +against this lawless people. The lord of the castle showed the rich +sword, which he had taken from their leader with his own hand, after he +had conquered his castle, slain him, and made his wife and children +prisoners, which deeds, by the permission of the emperor, were +represented on his coat of arms. All examined the splendid sword. Henry +took it and felt suddenly inspired with warlike ardor. He kissed it +with fervent devotion. The knight rejoiced at his sympathy with their +feelings. The old man embraced him, and encouraged him to devote his +hand also forever to the deliverance of the holy sepulchre, and to have +affixed to his shoulder the marvel-working cross. He was enraptured, +and seemed hardly able to release the sword. "Think, my son," cried the +old knight, "a new crusade is on the point of departure. The emperor +himself will lead our forces into the land of the morning. Throughout +all Europe the cry of the cross is sounding anew, and everywhere heroic +devotion is excited. Who knows that we may not, a year hence, be +sitting at each other's side in the great and far renowned city of +Jerusalem, as joyful conquerors, and think of home over the wine of our +fatherland? You will see here, at my house, a maiden from the holy +land. Its maidens appear very charming to us of the West; and if you +guide your sword skilfully, beauteous captives shall not be wanting." +The knights sang with a loud voice the Crusade-song, which at that time +was a favorite throughout Europe.</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">The grave in heathen hands remaineth;</p> +<p class="i6">The grave, wherein the Savior lay,</p> +<p class="i6">Their cruel mockery sustaineth,</p> +<p class="i6">And is unhallowed every day.</p> +<p class="i6">Its sorrow comes in stifled plea,--</p> +<p class="i6">Who saves me from this injury?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Where bides each valorous adorer?</p> +<p class="i6">The zeal of Christendom has gone!</p> +<p class="i6">Where is the ancient Faith's restorer?</p> +<p class="i6">Who lifts the cross and beckons on?</p> +<p class="i6">Who'll free the grave and rend in twain</p> +<p class="i6">The haughty foe's insulting chain?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">A holy storm o'er earth and billow</p> +<p class="i6">Is rushing through the midnight hour;</p> +<p class="i6">To stir the sleeper from his pillow,</p> +<p class="i6">It roars round city, camp, and tower,</p> +<p class="i6">In wailful cry from battlements,--</p> +<p class="i6">Up, tardy Christian, get thee hence.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Lo, angels everywhere commanding</p> +<p class="i6">With solemn faces, voicelessly,--</p> +<p class="i6">And pilgrims at the gates are standing</p> +<p class="i6">With tearful cheeks, appealingly!</p> +<p class="i6">They sadly mourn, those holy men,</p> +<p class="i6">The fierceness of the Saracen.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">There breaks a red and sullen morrow</p> +<p class="i6">O'er Christendom's extended field;</p> +<p class="i6">The grief, that springs from love and sorrow,</p> +<p class="i6">In every bosom is revealed;</p> +<p class="i6">The hearth is left in sudden zeal,</p> +<p class="i6">And each one grasps the cross and steel.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">The armèd bands are chafing madly,</p> +<p class="i6">To rescue the Redeemer's grave;</p> +<p class="i6">Toward the sea they hasten gladly,</p> +<p class="i6">The holy ground to reach and save.</p> +<p class="i6">And children too obey the spell,</p> +<p class="i6">The consecrated mass to swell.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">High waves the cross, its triumph flinging</p> +<p class="i6">On scarrèd hosts that rally there,</p> +<p class="i6">And Heaven, wide its portal swinging,</p> +<p class="i6">Is all revealed in upper air;</p> +<p class="i6">For Christ each warrior burns to pour</p> +<p class="i6">His blood upon the sacred shore.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">To battle, Christians! God's own legion</p> +<p class="i6">Attends you to the promised land,</p> +<p class="i6">Nor long before the Paynim region</p> +<p class="i6">Will smoke beneath His terror-hand.</p> +<p class="i6">We soon shall drench in joyous mood</p> +<p class="i6">The sacred grave with heathen blood.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">The Holy Virgin hovers, lying</p> +<p class="i6">On angel wings, above the plain.</p> +<p class="i6">Where all, by hostile weapon dying,</p> +<p class="i6">Upon her bosom wake again.</p> +<p class="i6">She bends with cheeks serenely bright</p> +<p class="i6">Amid the thunder of the fight.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Then over to the holy places!</p> +<p class="i6">That stifled plea is never dumb!</p> +<p class="i6">By prayer and conquest blot the traces,</p> +<p class="i6">That mark the guilt of Christendom!</p> +<p class="i6">If first the Savior's grave we gain,</p> +<p class="i6">No longer lasts the heathen reign.</p> +</div></div> +<p class="normal">Henry's whole soul was in commotion. The tomb rose before him +like a +youthful form, pale and stately, upon a massive stone in the midst of a +savage multitude, cruelly maltreated, and gazing with sad countenance +upon a cross, which shone in the background with vivid outlines, and +multiplied itself in the tossing waves of the ocean.</p> + +<p class="normal">Just at this time, his mother sent for him to present him to +the +knight's lady. The knights were deep in the enjoyments of the banquet, +and in their imaginations as to the impending crusade, and took no +notice of Henry's departure. He found his mother in close conversation +with the old, kindhearted lady of the castle, who welcomed him +pleasantly. The evening was serene, the sun began to decline, and +Henry, who was longing after solitude and was enticed by the golden +distance, which stole through the narrow, deep-arched windows into the +gloomy apartment, easily obtained permission to stroll beyond the +castle. He hastened, his whole soul in a state of excitement, into the +free air. He looked from the height of the old rock down into the woody +valley, through which a little rivulet brawled along, turning several +mills, the noise of which was scarcely audible from the greatness of +the elevation. Then he gazed toward the immeasurable stretch of woods +and mountain-passes, and his restlessness was calmed, the warlike +tumult died away, and there remained behind only a clear, imaginative +longing; He felt the absence of a lute, little as he knew its nature +and effects. The serene spectacle of the glorious evening soothed him +to soft fancies; the blossom of his heart revealed itself momently like +lightning-flashes. He rambled through the wild shrubbery, and clambered +over fragments of rock; when suddenly there arose from a neighboring +valley a tender and impressive song, in a female voice accompanied by +wonderful music. He was sure that it was a lute, and standing full of +admiration he heard the following song in broken German.</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">If the weary heart is living</p> +<p class="i6">Yet, beneath a foreign sky;</p> +<p class="i6">If a pallid Hope is giving</p> +<p class="i6">Fitful glimpses to the eye;</p> +<p class="i6">Can I still of home be dreaming?</p> +<p class="i6">Sorrow's tears adown are streaming,</p> +<p class="i6">Till my heart is like to die.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Could I myrtle-garlands braid thee,</p> +<p class="i6">And the cedar's sombre hair!</p> +<p class="i6">To the merry dances lead thee,</p> +<p class="i6">That the youths and maidens share!</p> +<p class="i6">Hadst thou seen in robes the fairest,</p> +<p class="i6">Glittering with gems the rarest,</p> +<p class="i6">Thy belov'd, so happy there!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Ardent looks my walk attended,</p> +<p class="i6">Suitors lowly bent the knee,</p> +<p class="i6">Songs of tenderness ascended</p> +<p class="i6">With the evening star to me.</p> +<p class="i6">In the cherished there confiding,--</p> +<p class="i6">Faith to woman, love abiding,</p> +<p class="i6">Was their burden ceaselessly.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">There, around the crystal fountains</p> +<p class="i6">Heaven fondly sinks to rest,</p> +<p class="i6">Sighing through the wooded mountains</p> +<p class="i6">By its balmy waves caressed;</p> +<p class="i6">Where among the pleasure-bowers,</p> +<p class="i6">Hidden by the fruits and flowers,</p> +<p class="i6">Thousand motley songsters nest.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Wide those youthful dreams are scattered!</p> +<p class="i6">Fatherland lies far away!</p> +<p class="i6">Long ago those trees were shattered,</p> +<p class="i6">And consumed the castle gray.</p> +<p class="i6">Came a savage band in motion</p> +<p class="i6">Fearful like the waves of ocean,</p> +<p class="i6">And Elysium wasted lay.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Terribly the flames were gushing</p> +<p class="i6">Through the air with sullen roar,</p> +<p class="i6">And a brutal throng came rushing</p> +<p class="i6">Fiercely mounted to the door.</p> +<p class="i6">Sabres rang, and father, brother,</p> +<p class="i6">Ne'er again beheld each other,--</p> +<p class="i6">Us away they rudely tore.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Though my eyes with tears are thronging,</p> +<p class="i6">Still, thou distant motherland,</p> +<p class="i6">They are turned, how full of longing,</p> +<p class="i6">Full of love, toward thy strand!</p> +<p class="i6">Thou, O child, alone dost save me</p> +<p class="i6">From the thought that anguish gave me,</p> +<p class="i6">Life to quench with hardy hand.</p> +</div></div> +<p class="normal">Henry heard the sobbing of a child and a soothing voice. He +descended +deeper through the shrubbery, and discovered <a name="div1Ref_ftn6" href="#div1_ftn6">a pale, languishing girl</a> +sitting beneath an old oak tree. A beautiful child hung crying on her +neck, and she herself was weeping; a lute lay at her side upon the +turf. She seemed a little alarmed when she saw the young stranger, who +was drawing near with a saddened countenance.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You have probably heard my song," said she kindly. "Your face +seems +familiar to me; let me think. My memory fails me, but the sight of you +awakens in me a strange recollection of joyous days. O! it appears as +if you resembled my brother, who before our disasters was separated +from us and travelled to Persia, to visit a renowned poet there. +Perhaps he yet lives and sadly sings the misfortunes of his sisters. +Would that I yet remembered some of the beautiful songs he left us! He +was noble and kind-hearted, and found his chief happiness in his lute."</p> + +<p class="normal">The child, who was ten or twelve years old, looked at the +strange youth +attentively, and clung fast to the bosom of the unhappy Zulima. Henry's +heart was penetrated with sympathy. He consoled the songstress with +friendly words, and prayed her to relate to him her history +circumstantially. She seemed not unwilling to do so. Henry seated +himself before her, and listened to her tale, interrupted as it was by +frequent tears. She dwelt principally upon the praises of her +countrymen and fatherland. She portrayed their loftiness of soul, and +their pure, strong susceptibility of life's poetry, and the wonderfully +mysterious charms of nature, She described the romantic beauties of the +fertile regions of Arabia, which lay like happy islands in the midst of +impassable, sandy wastes, refuge places for the oppressed and weary, +like colonies of Paradise,--full of fresh wells, whose streams trilled +over dense meadows and glittering stones, through venerable groves, +filled with every variety of singing birds; regions attractive also in +numerous monuments of memorable past time.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You would look with wonder," she said, "upon the +many-colored, +distinct, and curious traces and images upon the old stone slabs. They +seem to have been always well known; nor have they been preserved +without a reason. You muse and muse, you conjecture single meanings, +and become more and more curious to arrive at the deep coherence of +these old writings. Their unknown meaning excites unwonted meditation; +and even though you depart without having solved the enigmas, you have +yet made a thousand remarkable discoveries in yourself, which give to +life a new refulgence, and to the mind an ever profitable occupation. +Life, on a soil inhabited in olden time, and once glorious in its +industry, activity, and attachment to noble pursuits, has a peculiar +charm. Nature seems to have become there more human, more rational; a +dim remembrance throws back through the transparent present the images +of the world in marked outline; and thus you enjoy a twofold world, +purged by this very process from the rude and disagreeable, and made +the magic poetry and fable of the mind. Who knows whether also an +indefinable influence of the former inhabitants, now departed, does not +conspire to this end? And perhaps it is this hidden bias, that drives +men from new countries, at a certain period of their awakening, with +such a restless longing for the old home of their race, and that +emboldens them to risk their property and life, for the sake of +possessing these lands."</p> + +<p class="normal">After a pause she continued.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Believe not what you are told of the cruelties of my +countrymen. +Nowhere are captives treated more magnanimously; and even your pilgrims +to Jerusalem were received with hospitality; only they seldom deserved +it. Most of them were worthless men, who distinguished their +pilgrimages by their evil deeds, and who, for that reason, often fell +into the hands of just revenge. How peacefully might the Christian have +visited the holy sepulchre, without being under the necessity of +commencing a terrible and useless war, which embitters everything, +spreads abroad continued misery, and which has separated forever the +land of the morning from Europe! What is there in the name of +possessor? Our rulers reverentially honored the grave of your Holy One, +whom we also consider a divine person; and how beautifully might his +sacred tomb become the cradle of a happy union, the source of an +alliance blessing all forever!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Night overtook them during this conversation, darkness +approached, and +the moon rose in quiet light from the dark forest. They descended +slowly towards the castle. Henry was full of thought, and his warlike +inspiration had entirely vanished. He observed a strange confusion in +the world; the moon assumed the appearance of a sympathizing spectator, +and raised him above the ruggedness of the earth's surface, which there +seemed so inconsiderable, however wild and insurmountable it might +appear to the wanderer below. Zulima walked silently by his side, hand +in hand with the child. Henry carried the lute. He endeavored to revive +the sinking hope of his companion, to revisit once again her home, +whilst he felt within him an earnest prompting to be her deliverer, +though in what manner he knew not. A strange power seemed to lie in his +simple words, for Zulima felt an unwonted tranquillity, and thanked him +in the most touching manner for his consolation.</p> + +<p class="normal">The knights were yet in their cups, and the mother was engaged +in +household gossip. Henry had no desire to return to the noisy hall. He +felt weary, and with his mother soon betook himself to the chamber, +that was set apart for them. He told her before he fell asleep, what +had happened, and soon sank into pleasant dreams. The merchants had +also retired betimes, and were early astir. The knights were in deep +sleep, when they started on their journey; but the lady of the house +tenderly took leave of them. Zulima had slept but little; an inward joy +had kept her awake; she made her appearance as they were departing, and +humbly but eagerly assisted the travellers. Before they started, she +brought with many tears her lute to Henry, and touchingly besought him +to take it with him as a remembrance of Zulima.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It was my brother's lute," she said, "who gave it to me at +our last +parting; it is the only property I have saved. It seemed to please you +yesterday, and you leave me an inestimable gift,--<i>sweet hope</i>. Take +this small token of my gratitude, and let it be a pledge, that you will +remember the poor Zulima. We shall certainly see each other again, and +then perhaps I shall be much happier."</p> + +<p class="normal">Henry wept. He was unwilling to take the lute, so +indispensable to her +happiness.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Give me," said he, "the golden hand in your hair ornamented +with the +strange characters, unless it be memorial of your parents, sisters, or +brothers, and take in return a veil which my mother will gladly resign +to you."</p> + +<p class="normal">She finally yielded to his persuasions; and gave him the band, +saying;</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is my name in my mother tongue, which I myself in better +times +embroidered on this band. Let it be a pleasure for you to gaze upon it, +and to think that it has bound up my hair during a long and sorrowful +period, and has grown pale with its possessor." Henry's mother loosed +the veil and gave it to her, while she embraced her with tears.</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<p class="normal">After a few days' journey they arrived at a small village, +situated at +the foot of some sharp hill-tops, interspersed with deep defiles. The +country in other respects was fruitful and pleasant, though the hilly +ridge presented a dead, repulsive appearance. The inn was neat, the +people attentive; and a number of men, partly travellers, partly mere +drinking guests, sat in the room entertaining themselves with various +cheer.</p> + +<p class="normal">Our travellers mingled with them, and joined in their +conversation. The +attention of the company was particularly directed to an old man +strangely dressed, who sat by a table and answered pleasantly whatever +questions of curiosity were put to him. He had come from foreign lands, +and early that day had been examining the surrounding country. He was +now explaining his business, and the discoveries he had made during the +day. The people here called him a treasure-digger. But he spoke very +modestly of his power and knowledge; yet what he said bore the impress +of quaintness and novelty. He said that he was born in Bohemia. From +his youth he had been very curious to know what might be hidden in the +mountains, whence water poured its visible springs, and where gold, +silver, and precious stones were found, so irresistibly attractive to +man. He had often in the neighboring cloister-chapel beheld their solid +light appended to the pictures and relics, and only wished that they +would speak to him in explanation of their wonderful origin. He had +indeed sometimes heard that they came from far distant regions; but had +always wondered why such treasures and jewels might not also be found +in his own land. The mountains would not be so extensive and lofty, and +so closely guarded, without some purpose; he also imagined that he had +found shining and glimmering stones upon them. He had climbed about +industriously among the clefts and caves, and had peered into their +antiquated halls and arches with unspeakable pleasure.</p> + +<p class="normal">At length he met a traveller who told him that he must become +a miner +in order to satisfy his curiosity. There were miners in Bohemia, and he +needed only descend the river for ten or twelve days, to Eula, where to +gratify his desire he had only to mention it. He waited for no further +confirmation of this, but set off on the next day. After a fatiguing +journey of several days he reached Eula.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I cannot describe how gloriously I felt, when I saw from the +hill the +piles of rock overgrown with thickets, upon which stood the board huts, +and watched the smoke-wreaths rising over the forest from the valley +below. A distant murmur increased my eager anticipations. With +incredible curiosity and full of silent reverence, I soon stood +over a steep descent, which led precipitously down into the mountain, +from among the huts. I hastened towards the valley, and soon met +some men dressed in black, with lamps in their hands, whom I not +improperly took to be miners, and to whom I told my desire with anxious +timidity. They listened to me kindly, and told me that I must go to the +smelting-houses and inquire for the overseer, who supplied the place of +director and master, and who would tell me whether I could be admitted. +They thought my request would be granted, and told me that 'good luck' +was the customary form of greeting the overseer. Full of joyous +expectations I pursued my way, constantly repeating to myself the new +and significant greeting. I found a venerable old man who received me +with kindness, and after telling him my history and my warm desire to +be instructed in his rare and mysterious art, he readily promised to +fulfil my wishes. He seemed pleased with me, and entertained me in his +own house. I could scarcely wait for the moment when I should descend +the pit, and behold myself in the long-coveted apparel. That very +evening he brought me a mining-dress, and explained to me the use of +some tools which were kept in a chamber. At evening the miners came to +him, and not a word of their conversation did I lose, however foreign +and unintelligible the chief part of their language appeared to me. The +little, however, that I seemed to understand heightened the ardor of my +curiosity, and busied me at night with strange dreams. I awoke early, +and found myself at the house of my new host, where the miners were +gradually collecting to receive orders. A little side-room was fitted +up as a chapel. A monk appeared and read mass, and afterwards +pronounced a solemn prayer, in which he invoked Heaven to give the +miners its holy protection, to assist them in their dangerous labors, +to defend them from the temptations and snares of evil spirits, and to +grant them abundant ore. I never prayed more fervently, and never +realized so vividly the deep significance of the mass. My companions +appeared to me like heroes of the lower earth, who were obliged to +encounter a thousand perils, but possessing an enviable fortune in +their precious knowledge, and prepared, by grave and silent intercourse +with the primeval children of nature, in their sombre, mystic chambers, +for the reception of heavenly gifts, and for a blessed elevation above +the world and its troubles. When the service was concluded, the +overseer, giving me a lamp and a small wooden crucifix, accompanied me +to the shaft, as we are accustomed to call the steep entrance into the +subterraneous abodes. He taught me the method of descent, acquainted me +with the necessary precautions, as well as with the names of the +various objects and divisions. He led the way, and slid down a round +beam, grasping with one hand a rope, which was knotted to a transverse +bar, and with the other his lamp. I followed his example, and in this +manner we soon reached a considerable depth. I have seldom felt so +solemnly; and the distant light glimmered like a happy star, pointing +out the path to the secret treasures of nature. We came below to a +labyrinth of paths. My kind master was ever ready to answer my +inquisitive questions, and to teach me concerning his art. The roaring +of the water, the distance from the inhabited surface, the darkness and +intricacy of the paths, and the distant hum of the working miners, +delighted me extremely, and I joyfully felt myself in full possession +of all that for which I had most ardently sighed. This complete +satisfaction of our innate taste, this wonderful delight in things +which perhaps have an intimate relation to our secret being, and in +occupations for which one is destined from the cradle, cannot be +explained or described. Perhaps they might appear to every one else +common, insignificant, and unpleasant; but they seemed to me necessary +as air to the lungs, or food to the stomach. My good master was pleased +at my inward delight, and promised me that, with such zeal and +attention, I should advance rapidly and become an able miner. With what +reverence did I behold for the first time in my life, on the sixteenth +of March, more than five-and-forty years ago, the king of metals in +small, delicate leaves between the fissures of the rocks! It seemed as +if, having been doomed here to close captivity, it glittered kindly +towards, the miner, who with so many dangers and labors breaks a way to +it through its strong prison-walls, that he may remove it to the light +of day, and exalt it to the honor of royal crowns, vessels, and holy +relics, and to dominion over the world in the shape of genuine coin, +adorned with emblems, cherished by all. From that time I remained at +Eula, and advanced gradually from the business of removing the hewn +pieces of ore in baskets, to the degree of hewer, who is the real +miner, and who performs the observations upon the stone."</p> + +<p class="normal">The old man paused a moment in his narration, and drank, while +the +attentive listeners pledged his good luck, as they drained their cups. +Henry was delighted with the old man's discourse, and was desirous to +hear still more from him.</p> + +<p class="normal">His listeners related descriptions of the dangers and +strangeness of +the miner's life, and had many marvels to tell, at which the old man +often smiled, and endeavored to correct their odd representations.</p> + +<p class="normal">After a while Henry said, "you must have experienced much that +is +wonderful since then, I hope you have never repented your selection of +a mode of life. Be kind enough to tell us how you have employed +yourself since, and why you are now travelling. You must have looked +farther into the world, and I am certain that you are now something +more than a common miner."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I take great pleasure," said the old man, "in the +recollection of past +times, in which I find cause to bless the divine mercy and goodness. +Fate has led me through a joyful and serene life, and not a day has +passed, at the close of which I could not retire to rest with a +thankful heart. I have always been fortunate in my undertakings, and +our common Father in Heaven has guarded me from evil, and brought me to +a gray old age with honor. Next to him I must thank my old master for +all these blessings, who long since was gathered to his fathers, and of +whom I never can think without tears. He was a man of the old school, +after God's own heart. He was gifted with deep penetration, yet +childlike and humble in every action. Through his means mining has +become in high repute, and has helped the duke of Bohemia to immense +treasures. The whole region has become by its influence settled and +prosperous, and is now a blooming land. All the miners honored him as a +father, and as long as Eula stands, his name will be mentioned with +emotion and gratitude. His name was Werner, and he was a Lausatian by +birth. His only daughter was a mere child when I came to his house. My +industry, faithfulness, and devoted attachment daily won his affection. +He gave me his name and adopted me as his son. The little girl grew to +be an open-hearted, merry creature, whose countenance was as +beautifully clear and pure as her own mind. The old man, when he saw +that she was attached to me, that I loved to play with her, and that I +could never cease gazing at her eyes, which were as blue and open as +heaven and glittering as crystal, often told me that when I became a +worthy miner, he would not refuse her to me. He kept his word. The day +I became hewer he laid his hands upon us, blessed us as bride and +bridegroom, and a few weeks afterward I called her my wife. Early on +that day, although a mere apprentice, I struck upon a rich vein. The +Duke sent me a golden chain, with his likeness engraven on a large +medallion, and promised me the office of my father-in-law. How happy +was I when on my marriage day I hung the chain around the neck of my +bride, and the eyes of all were turned upon her. Our old father lived +to see some merry grand-children, and his declining years were more +joyous than he had ever anticipated. With joy could he finish his task, +and fare forth from the dark mine of this world, to rest in peace, and +await the final day.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Sir," said the old man, as he turned his gaze upon Henry, and +wiped +some tears from his eyes, "it must be that mining is blessed by God; +for there is no art, which renders those who are occupied in it happier +and nobler, which awakens a deeper faith in divine wisdom and guidance, +or which preserves the innocence and childlike simplicity of the heart +more freshly. Poor is the miner born, and poor he departs again. He is +satisfied with knowing where metallic riches are found, and with +bringing them to light; but their dazzling glare has no power over his +simple heart. Untouched by the perilous delirium, he is more pleased in +examining their wonderful formation, and the peculiarities of their +origin and primitive situation, than in calling himself their +possessor. When changed into property, they have no longer any charm +for him, and he prefers to seek them amid a thousand dangers and +travails, in the fastnesses of the earth, rather than to follow their +vocation in the world, or aspire after them on the earth's surface, +with cunning and deceitful arts. These severe labors keep his heart +fresh and his mind strong; he enjoys his scanty pay with inward +thankfulness, and comes forth every day from the dark tombs of his +calling, with new-born enjoyment of life. He now appreciates the +pleasure of light and of rest, the charms of the free air and prospect; +his food and drink are right refreshing to one, who enjoys them as +devoutly as if at the Lord's Supper; and with what a warm and tender +heart he joins his friends, or embraces his wife and children, and +thankfully shares the delights of heart-felt intercourse."</p> + +<p class="normal">"His lonely occupation cuts off a great part of his life from +day and +the society of man. Still he does not harden himself in dull +indifference as to these deep-meaning matters of the upper world; and +he retains a childlike simplicity, which recognises the interior +essence, and the manifold, primitive energies of all things. Nature +will never be the possession of any single individual. In the form of +property it becomes a terrible poison, which destroys rest, excites the +ruinous desire of drawing everything within the reach of its possessor, +and carries with it a train of wild passions and endless sorrows. Thus +it undermines secretly the ground of the owner, buries him in the abyss +which breaks beneath him, and so passes into the hands of another, thus +gradually satisfying its tendency to belong to all.</p> + +<p class="normal">"How quietly, on the contrary, the poor miner labors in his +deep +solitudes, far from the restless turmoil of day, animated solely by a +thirst for knowledge and a love of harmony. In his solitude he tenderly +thinks of his friends and family, and his sense of their value and +relationship is continually renewed. His calling teaches indefatigable +patience, and forbids his attention to be diverted by useless thoughts. +He deals with a strange, hard, and unwieldly power, which will yield +only to persevering industry and continual care. But what a glorious +flower blooms for him in these awful depths,--a firm confidence in his +heavenly Father, whose hand and care are every day visible to him in +signs not easily mistaken! How often have I sat down, and by the light +of my lamp gazed upon the plain crucifix with the most heart-felt +devotion! Then for the first time I clearly understood the holy meaning +of this mysterious image, and struck upon a heart-vein of the richest +golden ore, and which has yielded me an everlasting reward."</p> + +<p class="normal">After a pause the old man continued:--</p> + +<p class="normal">"Truly must he have been divine, who first taught men the +noble art of +mining, and who has hidden in the bosom of the rock this sober emblem +of human life. In one place the veins are large, easily broken, but +poor; in another a wretched and insignificant cleft of rock confines +it; and here the best ores are to be found. It often splits before the +miner's face into a thousand atoms, but the patient one is not +terrified; he quietly pursues his course, and soon sees his zeal +rewarded, whilst working it open in a new and more promising direction.</p> + +<p class="normal">"A specious lump often entices him from the true direction; +but he soon +discovers that the way is false, and breaks his way by main strength +across the grain of the rock, until he has found the true path that +leads to the ore. How thoroughly acquainted does the miner here become +with all the humors of chance, and how assured that energy and +constancy are the only sure means of overcoming them and of raising the +hidden treasure."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Certainly you are not without cheering songs," said Henry. "I +should +think that your calling would involuntarily inspire you with music, and +that songs would be your welcome companions."</p> + +<p class="normal">"There you have spoken the truth," said the old man. "The song +and the +guitar belong to the miner's life, and no occupation can retain their +charm with more zest than ours. Music and dancing are the pleasures of +the miner; like a joyful prayer are they, and the remembrance and hope +of them help to lighten weary labor and shorten long solitude.</p> + +<p class="normal">"If you would like it now, I will give you a song for your +entertainment, which was a favorite in my youth.</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Who fathoms her recesses,</p> +<p class="i6">Is monarch of the sphere,--</p> +<p class="i6">Forgetting all distresses,</p> +<p class="i6">Within her bosom here.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Of all her granite piling</p> +<p class="i6">The secret make he knows,</p> +<p class="i6">And down amid her toiling</p> +<p class="i6">Unweariedly he goes.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"He is unto her plighted,</p> +<p class="i6">And tenderly allied,--</p> +<p class="i6">Becomes by her delighted,</p> +<p class="i6">As if she were his bride.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"New love each day is burning</p> +<p class="i6">For her within his breast,</p> +<p class="i6">No toil or trouble shunning,</p> +<p class="i6">She leaveth him no rest.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"To him her voice is swelling</p> +<p class="i6">In solemn, friendly rhyme,</p> +<p class="i6">The mighty stories telling</p> +<p class="i6">Of long-evanished time.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"The Fore-world's holy breezes</p> +<p class="i6">Around his temples play,</p> +<p class="i6">And caverned night releases</p> +<p class="i6">To him a quenchless ray.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"On every side he greeteth</p> +<p class="i6">A long familiar land,</p> +<p class="i6">And willingly she meeteth</p> +<p class="i6">The labors of his hand.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"For helpful waves are flowing</p> +<p class="i6">Along his mountain course,</p> +<p class="i6">And rocky holds are showing</p> +<p class="i6">Their treasures' secret source.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Toward his monarch's palace</p> +<p class="i6">He guides the golden stream,</p> +<p class="i6">And diadem and chalice</p> +<p class="i6">With noble jewels gleam.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Though faithfully his treasure</p> +<p class="i6">He renders to the king,</p> +<p class="i6">He liveth poor with pleasure,</p> +<p class="i6">And makes no questioning.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"And though beneath him daily</p> +<p class="i6">They fight for gold and gain,</p> +<p class="i6">Above here let him gaily</p> +<p class="i6">The lord of earth remain."</p> +</div></div> +<p class="normal">The song pleased Henry exceedingly, and he begged the old man +to sing +another. He was willing to gratify him, saying, "I know one song that +is very strange, and of whose origin we ourselves are ignorant. A +travelling miner, who came to us from a distance, and who was a curious +diviner with a wand, brought it with him. The song became a favorite +because it was so peculiar,--nearly as dark and obscure as the music +itself; but on that very account singularly attractive, and like a +dream between sleeping and waking.</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"I know where is a castle strong,</p> +<p class="i6">With stately king in silence reigning,</p> +<p class="i6">Attended by a wondrous throng,</p> +<p class="i6">Yet deep within its walls remaining.</p> +<p class="i6">His pleasure-hall is far aloof,</p> +<p class="i6">With viewless warders round it gliding,</p> +<p class="i6">And only streams familiar sliding</p> +<p class="i6">Toward him from the sparry roof.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Of what they see with lustrous eyes,</p> +<p class="i6">Where all the stars in light are dwelling,</p> +<p class="i6">They faithfully the king apprize,</p> +<p class="i6">And never are they tired of telling.</p> +<p class="i6">He bathes himself within their flood,</p> +<p class="i6">So daintily his members washing,</p> +<p class="i6">And all his light again is flashing</p> +<p class="i6">Throughout his mother's<a name="div1Ref_ftn2" href="#div1_ftn2"><sup>2</sup></a> paly blood.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"His castle old and marvellous,</p> +<p class="i6">From seas unfathomed o'er him closing,</p> +<p class="i6">Stood firm, and ever standeth thus,</p> +<p class="i6">Escape to upper air opposing;</p> +<p class="i6">An inner spell in secret thrall</p> +<p class="i6">The vassals of the realm is holding,</p> +<p class="i6">And clouds, like triumph-flags unfolding,</p> +<p class="i6">Are gathered round the rocky wall.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Lo, an innumerable race</p> +<p class="i6">Before the barred portals lying;</p> +<p class="i6">And each the trusty servant plays,</p> +<p class="i6">The ears of men so blandly plying.</p> +<p class="i6">So men are lured the king to gain,</p> +<p class="i6">Divining not that they are captured;</p> +<p class="i6">But thus by specious longing raptured,</p> +<p class="i6">Forget the hidden cause of pain.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"But few are cunning and awake,</p> +<p class="i6">Nor ever for his treasures pining;</p> +<p class="i6">And these assiduous efforts make,</p> +<p class="i6">The ancient castle undermining.</p> +<p class="i6">The mighty spell's primeval tie</p> +<p class="i6">True insight's hand alone can sever;</p> +<p class="i6">If so the Inmost opens ever,</p> +<p class="i6">The dawn of freedom's day is nigh.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"To toil the firmest wall is sand,</p> +<p class="i6">To courage no abyss unsounded;</p> +<p class="i6">Who trusteth in his heart and hand,</p> +<p class="i6">Seeks for the king with zeal unbounded.</p> +<p class="i6">He brings him from his secret hill,</p> +<p class="i6">The spirit foes by spirits quelling,</p> +<p class="i6">Masters the torrents madly swelling,</p> +<p class="i6">And makes them follow at his will.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"The more the king appears in sight,</p> +<p class="i6">And freely round the earth is flowing,</p> +<p class="i6">The more diminishes his might,</p> +<p class="i6">The more the free in number growing.</p> +<p class="i6">At length dissolves that olden spell,--</p> +<p class="i6">And through the castle void careering,</p> +<p class="i6">Us homeward is the ocean bearing</p> +<p class="i6">Upon its gentle, azure swell."</p> +</div></div> +<p class="normal">Just as the old man ended, it struck Henry that he had +somewhere heard +that song. He asked him to repeat it and wrote it down. The old man +then departed, and the merchants conversed with the other guests on the +pleasures and hardships of mining. One said "I don't believe the old +man is here without some object. He has been climbing to-day among the +hills, and has doubtless discovered good signs. We will ask him when he +comes in again."</p> + +<p class="normal">"See here," said another, "we might ask him to hunt up a well +for our +village. Good water is far off, and a well would be right welcome to +us."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It occurs to me," said a third, "that I might ask him to take +with him +one of my sons, who has already filled the house with stones. The +youngster would certainly make an able miner, and the old man seems +honest, and one who would bring him up in the way he should go."</p> + +<p class="normal">The merchants were thinking whether they might not establish, +by aid of +the miner, a profitable trade with Bohemia, and procure metals thence +at low prices. The old man entered the room again, and all wished to +make use of his acquaintance, when he began to say:--</p> + +<p class="normal">"How dull and depressing is this narrow room! The moon is +without there +in all her glory, and I have a great desire to take a walk. I saw +to-day some remarkable caves in this neighborhood. Perhaps some of you +would like to go with me; and if we take lights, we shall be able to +view them without any difficulty."</p> + +<p class="normal">The inhabitants of the village were already acquainted with +the +existence of these caves, but no one had as yet dared to enter them. On +the contrary they were deceived by frightful traditions of dragons and +other monsters, which were said to dwell therein. Some went so far as +to say that they had seen them, and insisted that the bones of men who +had been robbed, and of animals which had been devoured, were to be +found at the entrances of these caves. Others thought that a ghost +haunted them, for they had often seen from a distance a strange human +form there, and songs had been heard thence at night.</p> + +<p class="normal">The old man was rather incredulous upon the point, and +laughingly +assured them that they could visit the caves with safety under the +protection of a miner, since such monsters must shun him; and as for a +singing spirit, that must certainly be a beneficent one. Curiosity +rendered many courageous enough to accept his proposition. Henry wished +also to accompany him, and his mother at length yielded to his +entreaties, and the persuasion and promises of the old man, who agreed +to have a special eye to his safety. The merchants promised to do the +same. Long sticks of pitch-pine were collected for torches; part of the +company provided themselves plentifully with ladders, poles, ropes, and +all sorts of defensive weapons, and thus finally they started for the +neighboring hills. The old man led the way with Henry and the +merchants. The boor had brought that inquisitive son of his, who full +of joy held a torch and pointed out the way to the caves. The evening +was clear and warm. The moon shone mildly over the hills, prompting +strange dreams in all creatures. Itself lay like a dream of the sun, +above the introverted world of visions, and restored nature, now living +in its infinite phases, back to that fabulous olden time, when every +bud yet slumbered by itself, lonely and unquickened, longing in vain to +expand the dark fulness of its immeasurable existence. The evening's +tale mirrored itself in Henry's mind. It seemed as if the world lay +disclosed within him, showing him as a friendly visitor all her hidden +treasures and beauties. So clearly was the great yet simple apparition +revealed to him. Nature seemed incomprehensible, only because the near +and the true loomed around man with such a manifold lavishment of +expression. The words of the old man had opened a secret door. He saw a +little dwelling built close to a lofty minster, from whose stone +pavement arose the solemn foreworld, while the clear, joyous future, in +the form of golden cherubs, floated from the spire towards it with +songs. Loud swelled the notes in their silvery chanting, as all +creatures were entering at the wide gate, each audibly expressing in a +simple prayer and proper tongue their interior nature. How strange it +seemed that this clear view, so necessary to his existence, had been so +long unknown to him. He now reviewed at a glance all his relations to +the wide world around him. He felt what he had become, and was to +become, through its influence, and comprehended all the peculiar +conceptions and presages, which he had already often stumbled upon in +contemplation. The story which the merchants had related of the young +man, who studied nature so assiduously, and who became the son-in-law +of the king, recurred to his mind, with a thousand other recollections +of his past life, weaving themselves involuntarily on his part into a +magic thread. While Henry was thus occupied in his inward musings, the +company had approached the cave. The entrance was low, and the old man +took a torch and first clambered over some fragments of rock. A +perceptible current of air blew towards them, and the old man assured +them that they could follow with confidence. The most timorous brought +up the rear, holding their weapons in readiness. Henry and the +merchants were behind the old man, and the boy walked merrily at his +side. The path, at first narrow, emerged into a spacious and lofty +cave, which the gleam of the torches could not fully illumine. Some +openings, however, were seen in the rocky wall opposite. The ground was +soft and quite even; the walls and ceiling were also neither rough nor +irregular. But the innumerable bones and teeth which covered the +ground, chiefly attracted the attention of all. Many were in a full +state of preservation, some bore marks of decay, while some projecting +here and there from the walls seemed petrified. Most of them were of +extraordinary size and strength. The old man was much gratified at +seeing these relics of gray antiquity; they added little courage, +however, to the farmers, who considered them downright evidence, that +beasts of prey were near at hand, although the old man pointed out the +signs upon them of a remote antiquity, and asked them whether they had +ever heard of destruction among their flocks, or the seizure of men in +the neighborhood, and whether they thought these relics the bones of +known beasts or men. The old man wished to penetrate farther into the +cave, but the farmers deemed it advisable to retreat to its mouth, and +there await his return. Henry, the merchants, and the boy remained with +him, having provided themselves with ropes and torches. They soon +reached a second cave, where the old man did not forget to mark the +path by which they entered, by a figure of bones which he erected +before the mouth. This cave resembled the other, and was equally full +of the remains of animals. Henry's mind was affected by wonder and +awe; he felt as if passing through the outer-court of the central +earth-palace. Heaven and earth lay at once far distant from him; these +dark and vast halls seemed parts of some strange subterraneous kingdom. +"May it not be possible," thought he to himself, "that beneath our feet +there moves by itself a world in mighty life, that strange productions +derive their being from the bowels of the earth, which sends forth the +internal heat of its dark bosom into gigantic and preternatural shapes? +Might not these awful strangers have been driven forth once by the +piercing cold, and appeared amongst us, while perhaps at the same time +heavenly guests, living, speaking energies of the stars, were visible +above our heads? Are these bones the remains of their wandering upon +the surface, or of their flight into the deep?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Suddenly the old man called them to him, and showed them the +fresh +track of a human foot upon the ground. They could discover no more, so +that the old man concluded they might follow the track without fear of +meeting robbers. They were about to do this, when suddenly, as from a +great depth beneath their feet, a distinct strain arose. They listened +attentively, with not a little astonishment.</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"In the vale I gladly linger,</p> +<p class="i6">Smiling in the dusky night,</p> +<p class="i6">For to me with rosy finger</p> +<p class="i6">Proffers Love his cup of light.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"With its dew my spirit sunken</p> +<p class="i6">Wafted is toward the skies,</p> +<p class="i6">And I stand in this life drunken</p> +<p class="i6">At the gate of paradise.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Lulled in blessed contemplation,</p> +<p class="i6">Vexes me no petty smart;</p> +<p class="i6">O, the queen of all creation</p> +<p class="i6">Gives to me her faithful heart.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Many years of tearful sorrows</p> +<p class="i6">Glorified this common clay,--</p> +<p class="i6">Thence a graven form it borrows,</p> +<p class="i6">Life securing it for aye.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Here the lapse of days evanished</p> +<p class="i6">But a moment seems to me;</p> +<p class="i6">Backward would I turn, if banished,</p> +<p class="i6">Gazing hither gratefully."</p> +</div></div> +<p class="normal">All were most agreeably surprised and eagerly wished to +discover the singer.</p> + +<p class="normal">After some search, they found in an angle of the right wall a +deep +sunken path, to which the footsteps seemed to lead them. Soon they +thought they perceived a light, which became clearer as they +approached. A new vault of greater extent than those they had yet +passed opened before them, in the further extremity of which they saw a +human form sitting by a lamp, with a great book before him upon a slab, +in which he appeared to be reading.</p> + +<p class="normal">The figure turned towards them, arose, and came forward. He +was a man +whose age it were impossible to guess. He seemed neither old nor young, +and no traces of time were discoverable, except in his smooth silvery +hair, which was parted on his forehead. An indescribable air of +serenity dwelt in his eyes, as if he were looking down from a clear +mountain into an infinite spring.</p> + +<p class="normal">He had sandals upon his feet, and wore no other dress except a +large +mantle cast around him, which added dignity to his noble form. He +expressed no surprise at their unexpected arrival, and greeted them as +old acquaintances and expected guests.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is pleasant indeed," said he, "that you have sought me. +You are the +first friends I have ever seen, though I have dwelt here a long season. +It seems that men are beginning to examine our spacious and wonderful +mansion a little more closely."</p> + +<p class="normal">The old man answered, "We did not expect to find here so +friendly a +host. We had been told of wild beasts and spectres, but we now find +ourselves most agreeably deceived. If we have disturbed your devotions +or deep meditations, pardon it to our curiosity."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Can any sight be more delightful," said the unknown, "than +the joyous +and speaking countenance of man? Think not that I am a misanthrope, +because you find me in this solitude. I have not shunned the world, but +have only sought a retirement, where I could apply myself to my +meditations undisturbed."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Have you never grieved for your own desolation, and do not +hours +sometimes come, when you are fearful, and long to hear a human voice?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Now, no more. There was a time in my youth, when a highly +wrought +imagination induced me to become a hermit. Dark forebodings busied my +youthful fancy. I thought to find in solitude full nourishment for my +heart. The fountain of my inner life seemed inexhaustible. But I soon +learned that fulness of experience must be added to it, that a young +heart cannot dwell alone; nay, that man, by manifold intercourse with +his race, reaches a certain self-subsisting independence."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I myself believe," said the old man, "that there is a certain +natural +impulse to every mode of life; and that perhaps the experiences of +increasing age lead of themselves to a withdrawal from human society. +It then seems as if society were devoted to activity as much for gain +as for maintenance. It is powerfully impelled by a great hope, by a +common object, and children and the aged seem not at home. Helplessness +and ignorance exclude the first from it, while the latter, with every +hope fulfilled, every object attained, and new hopes and objects no +longer woven into their circle, turn back into themselves, and find +enough employment in preparing for a higher existence. But more +peculiar causes seem to have separated you entirely from men, and +influenced you to resign all the comforts of society. Methinks that the +tension of your mind must often relax, and give place to the most +disagreeable emotions."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I have indeed felt that; but have learned to avoid it by a +strict +regularity in my mode of living. For this purpose I endeavor by +exercise to preserve my health, and then there is no danger. Every day +I walk for several hours and enjoy the light and air as much as +possible; or I remain in these halls, and busy myself at certain times +with basket-braiding and carving. I exchange my ware at distant places +for provisions; I have brought many books with me, and thus time passes +like a moment. In these places I have acquaintances who know where I +live, and from whom I learn what is going on in the world. These will +bury me when I die, and take away my books."</p> + +<p class="normal">He led them nearer his seat, which was against the wall of the +cave. +They noticed several books and a guitar lying upon the ground, and upon +the wall hung a complete suit of armor apparently quite costly. The +table consisted of five great stone slabs, put together in the form of +a box. Upon the upper one were two sculptured male and female figures +large as life, holding a garland of lilies and roses. Upon the side was +inscribed,</p> + +<p class="normal">"Frederick and Mary of Hohenzollern here returned to their +native +dust."</p> + +<p class="normal">The hermit inquired of his guests concerning their fatherland, +and how +they had journeyed into these regions. He was kind and communicative, +and displayed great knowledge of the world.</p> + +<p class="normal">The old man said, "I see you have been a warrior; the armor +betrays +you."</p> + +<p class="normal">"The dangers and vicissitudes of war, the deep, poetic spirit +connected +with an armed host, tore me from my youthful solitude and determined +the destiny of my life. Perhaps the long tumult, the innumerable events +among which I have dwelt, awakened in me a yet stronger inclination for +solitude, where numberless recollections make pleasant companions; and +this the more, in proportion as our view of them is varied; a view +which now first discovers their true connexion, their significance, and +their occult tendency. The peculiar sense for the study of man's +history develops itself but tardily, and rather through the silent +influence of memory than by the more forcible impressions of the +present. The nearest events seem but loosely connected, yet they +sympathize so much the more curiously with the remote. And it is only +when one is able to comprehend in one view a lengthened series, neither +interpreting too literally, nor confounding the proper method with +capricious fancies, that he detects the secret chain which binds the +past to the future, and learns to rear the fabric of history from hope +and memory. Yet only he can succeed in discovering the simple laws of +history, to whom the whole past is present. We arrive only at +incomplete and cumbrous formulas, and are well content to find for +ourselves an available prescription, that may sufficiently expound the +riddle of our own short lives. But I can truly say that each rigorous +view of the events of life causes us deep and inexhaustible pleasure, +and raises us, of all speculations, the highest above earthly evils. +Youth reads history only from curiosity, as it cons a story; to +maturity it becomes a divinely consoling and edifying companion, +preparing it gently by its wise discourses for a higher and more +embracing sphere of action, and acquainting it through intelligible +images with the unknown world. The church is the dwelling-house of +history, the church-yard its symbolic flower-garden. History should +only be written by old and pious men, whose own is drawing to its +close, and who have nothing more to hope for, but transplantation to +the garden. Their descriptions will be neither obscure nor dull; on the +contrary a ray from the spire will exhibit everything in the most exact +and beautiful light, and the Holy Spirit will hover above these rarely +stirred waters."</p> + +<p class="normal">"How true and obvious are your remarks," said the old man. "We +ought +certainly to spend more labor in faithfully recording the occurrences +of our own times, and should leave our record as a devout bequest for +posterity. There are a thousand remoter matters to which care and labor +are devoted, while we trouble ourselves little with the nearer and +weightier, the occurrences of our lives, and those of our relatives and +generation, whose fleeting destiny we have comprehended in the idea of +a Providence. We heedlessly suffer all traces of these to escape from +our memories. Like consecrated relics, all facts of the past will be +sought for by a wiser future, not indifferent to the biography of the +most insignificant man, since in his life the lives of all his greater +contemporaries will be more or less reflected."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is also much to be regretted," said the count of +Hohenzollern, +"that even the few, who have undertaken to report the deeds and events +of their times, have not carried out their designs, nor striven to give +order and completeness to their observations; but have proceeded almost +wholly at random in the choice and collection of their facts. Any one +may easily see that he only can describe plainly and perfectly, that +which he knows exactly, whose origin and consequences, object and use, +are present to his mind; for otherwise there will be no description, +but a bewildering mixture of imperfect statements. Let a child describe +an engine, or a farmer a ship, and no one can gain anything useful or +instructive from their words; and so is it with most historians, who +are perhaps able enough even to be wearisome in relating and collecting +facts; but who forget what is most note-worthy, what first makes +history historical, and connects so many varied events in an agreeable +and instructive whole. If I understand all this rightly, it appears to +me necessary that a historian should be also a poet; for poets alone +know the art of skilfully combining events. In their tales and fables I +have often noticed, with silent pleasure, a tender sympathy with the +mysterious spirit of life. There is more truth in their romances than +in learned chronicles. Though the heroes and their fates are +inventions, yet the spirit in which they are composed is true and +natural. In some degree it matters not whether those persons, in whose +fates we trace our own, ever did or did not exist. We seek to +contemplate the great and simple spirit of an age's phenomena; and if +this wish be gratified, we are not cumbered about the certainty of the +existence of their external forms."[See <a name="div1Ref_note2" href="#div1_note2">Note II</a>.]</p> + +<p class="normal">"I have also been much attached to the poets on that account," +said the +old man. "Life and the world have become through them more clear and +perceptible to me. It has appeared to me that they must be in alliance +with the acute spirits of light, which penetrate and divide all +natures, and spread over each a peculiar, softly tinted veil. By their +songs I felt my own nature gently developed, and it could move, as it +were, more freely, enjoy its social disposition and desires, poise with +silent pleasure its limbs against each other, and in various forms +excite delight a thousand-fold."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Were you so happy in your country as to have some poets?" +asked the +hermit.</p> + +<p class="normal">"There have been a few with us at times; but travelling seemed +their +chief pleasure, and therefore they scarcely ever remained long with us. +But during my wanderings in Illyria, Saxony, and Sweden, I have met +some, the remembrance of whom is ever pleasant."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You have, travelled far, and doubtless must have seen much +during your +life, that is wonderful."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Our art almost compels us to look industriously around the +world, and +it is as if the miner were driven by a subterraneous fire. One mountain +sends him to another. He never ceases his scrutiny, and during his +whole life is gaining knowledge from that wonderful architecture, which +has so curiously floored and wainscotted the earth under our feet. Our +art is very ancient and extended. It may indeed, like our race, have +migrated with the sun from the East toward the West, from the middle to +the extremities. It has been obliged everywhere to combat with other +difficulties; and as necessity continually urges the human spirit to +wise inventions, so the miner can increase his knowledge and ability, +and enrich his home with youthful experience."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You are well nigh inverted astrologers," said the hermit; "as +they +ceaselessly regard the sky, wandering through its immeasurable spaces, +so do you turn your gaze to the earth, exploring its construction. +Astrologers study the forces and influences of the stars, while you are +discovering the forces of rocks and mountains, and the manifold +properties of earth and stone strata. To them the higher world is a +book of futurity; to you the earth is a memorial of the primeval +world."</p> + +<p class="normal">"This connexion is not without its meaning," said the old man; +"these +shining prophets play perhaps a chief part in that old history of the +wonderful creation. Men perhaps in the course of time will learn to +understand them better, and to explain them by their operations, and +inversely. Perhaps also the great mountain-chains exhibit the traces of +their former ways, and perhaps they desired to support themselves +without foreign aid, to take their own way to Heaven. Many raised +themselves boldly enough that they might become stars, and therefore +must now be deprived of the fair green vesture of the lower regions. +They have therefore gained nothing, except the power of influencing the +weather for their fathers, and of becoming prophets for the lower +world, which now they protect, and now deluge with tempests."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Since I have dwelt in this cave," the hermit answered, "I +have been +accustomed to reflect more on ancient times. I cannot describe how +attractive such meditations are, and I can imagine the love which a +miner must cherish for his trade. When I look upon these strange old +bones, which are collected in such great numbers here; when I picture +to myself the savage period when those strange and monstrous beasts +crowded in dense bands into these caves, driven thither perhaps by fear +and terror, and finding here their death; when again I go back to the +times when these caves were formed, and wide-spread floods covered the +land; then I seem to myself like a dream of futurity; like a child of +eternal peace. How quiet and peaceful, how mild and dear is out present +nature, when compared with violent and gigantic times! The mightiest +tempests, the most terrible earthquakes of our day, are but weak echoes +of the throes of that first birth. Perhaps also the animal and +vegetable kingdoms, and even the men who then existed, if any were +found on the different islands of the ocean, were of firmer and ruder +organization; at least we should not then be obliged to accuse the +traditions of a giant race of being mere poetic fancies."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is pleasant," said the old man, "to notice the gradual +pacification +of nature. A concord ever becoming deeper, a more friendly intercourse, +reciprocal aid and encouragement, seem gradually to have been formed; +and we can look forward continually to better times. It may perhaps be +possible, that here and there a little of the old leaven is fermenting, +and that still more violent convulsions are to follow; yet these mighty +struggles for a free and harmonious existence are visible; and in this +spirit will every convulsion pass over and draw nearer to the great +goal. It may be that nature is no longer so fertile, that at present no +metals or precious stones, rocks or mountains are springing into +existence, that plants and animals do not increase to such an +astonishing size and strength; but the more that physical powers are +exhausted, the more have plastic, ennobling, and social powers +increased. The mind has become more susceptible and tender, the fancy +more varied and symbolical, the hand more free and artistic. Nature +approaches man; and if she were once an uncouthly teeming rock, then is +she now a quietly thriving plant, a silent human artist. And of what +service would be the multiplication of these treasures, of which there +are now enough for the most distant age? How small is the space I have +surveyed; and yet what mighty stores have I at a single glance +discovered, the use of which is left for future generations! What +riches are enclosed in the northern mountains, what favorable signs I +discovered throughout my native land, in Hungary, at the foot of the +Carpathian hills, and in the rocky vales of Tyrol, Austria, and +Bavaria. I might have been a rich man, if I had taken with me what I +might only have picked up and broken off. In many places I saw myself +as in a magic garden. On every side costly and skilfully framed metals +met my sight. From the beautiful tresses and branches of silver hung +glittering, ruby-red, transparent fruits; and the heavy-laden shrubs, +stood upon crystal ground of inimitable workmanship. One can scarcely +trust his senses in these wonderful regions, and can never grow weary +of rambling through these charming solitudes, or of gloating over their +jewels. I have seen much that is wonderful during my present journey, +and certainly in other lands the earth is equally plentiful and +fruitful."</p> + +<p class="normal">"When," said the unknown, "one remembers the treasures which +are hidden +in the East, he cannot doubt what you remark; and have not distant +India, Africa, and Spain been distinguished even from antiquity, by the +richness of their soil? Though a soldier is not apt to take very exact +notice of the veins and the clefts of mountains, yet at times I have +reflected upon these shining tracts of land, which, like rare birds, +indicate an unexpected bloom and fruit. How little did I imagine, when +I passed these dark dwellings joyously by the light of day, that I +should ever finish my life in the bosom of a mountain! My love carried +me proudly above the surface of the earth, and I hoped in later years +to fall asleep in her embrace. The war having ended, I returned home, +full of glad expectations of a refreshing harvest. But the spirit of +the war seemed to have become the spirit of my fortune. My Maria had +borne me two children in the East. They were the joy of our existence. +The voyage and the rough air of the West destroyed their bloom; they +were buried a few days after my arrival in Europe. Sorrowfully I +carried my disconsolate wife to our home. A silent grief weakened the +thread which bound her to life. During a journey which I was obliged to +take, and on which, as was her wont, she accompanied me, she gently but +suddenly expired in my arms. It was near this place, where her earthly +pilgrimage was finished. My resolution was taken in a moment; I found, +what I had never expected; a heavenly illumination came over me; and +from the day when I buried her here with my own hands, a divine hand +freed my heart from all sorrow. Since then I have caused this monument +to be erected. An event often seems to be ending, when in fact it is +beginning; and thus has it been with my life. May God grant you an old +age as happy, and a spirit as quiet as mine."</p> + +<p class="normal">Henry and the merchants had listened attentively to the +conversation; +and the first particularly was conscious of new developments in his +prophetic soul. Many words, many thoughts, fell like quickening seeds +into his breast, and soon drew him from the narrow circle of his youth +to the heights of the world. The hours just passed lay behind him like +long-revolving years; and it seemed as if he had always thought and +felt as now.</p> + +<p class="normal">The hermit showed him his books. They consisted of old +histories and +poems. Henry turned over the leaves of these huge and beautifully +illuminated works, and his curiosity was strongly excited by the short +lines of the verses, the titles, some of the passages, and the +beautiful pictures which appeared here and there, like embodied words, +to assist the imagination of the reader. The Hermit observed his inward +gratification and explained these singular pictures. All the varied +scenes of life were represented among them. Battles, funereal trains, +marriage ceremonies, shipwrecks, caves, and palaces, kings, heroes, +priests, men in singular costume, strange beasts, were delineated in +different alternations and connexions. Henry could not sate himself +with gazing at them, and wished nothing more than to remain with the +hermit, who irresistibly attracted him, and to be instructed by him in +these books. In the mean time the old man asked whether there were any +more caves; and the hermit told him, that there were some extensive +ones near, to which he would accompany him. The old man was ready; and +the hermit, who observed Henry's interest in the books, induced him to +remain, and to examine them more closely during their absence. Henry +was glad to stay where the books were, and thanked the hermit heartily +for his permission to do so. He turned over their leaves with +indescribable pleasure. At last a book fell into his hands, written in +a foreign tongue, which appeared to him somewhat like Latin or Italian. +He longed greatly to know the language, for the book pleased him +greatly, though he did not understand a syllable of it. It had no +title; but after a little search he found some engravings. They seemed +strangely familiar to him; and on examination, he discovered his own +form quite discernible among the figures. He was terrified, and thought +that he must be dreaming; but after having examined them again and +again, he could no longer doubt their perfect resemblance. He could +hardly trust his senses, when in one of the pictures he discovered the +cave, the hermit, and the old man by his side. By degrees he found +among the pictures the girl from the holy land, his parents, the count +and countess of Thuringia, his friend the court chaplain; and many +others of his acquaintance; yet their dress was changed, and seemed to +belong to another period. There were many forms he could not call by +name, but which nevertheless seemed known to him. He saw the exact +portraits of himself, in different situations. Towards the end he +appeared larger and nobler. The guitar rested in his arms, and the +countess handed him a wreath. He saw himself at the imperial court, on +shipboard, now in warm embrace with a beautifully formed and lovely +girl, now in battle with fierce-looking men, and again in friendly +conversation with Saracens and Moors. He was frequently accompanied by +a man of grave aspect. He felt a deep reverence for this august form, +and was glad to see himself arm in arm with him. The last pictures were +obscure and incomprehensible; yet some of the shapes of his dream +surprised him with the most intense rapture. The conclusion of the book +was wanting. Henry was very sorrowful, and wished for nothing more +earnestly than to be able to read and thoroughly understand the book. +He looked over the pictures repeatedly, and was almost abashed when the +company returned. A strange sort of shame overcame him. He did not +suffer himself to make known his discovery, and merely asked the Hermit +generally about its title and language. He learned that it was written +in the Provence tongue.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is long since I have read it," said the Hermit; "I do not +now +remember its contents very distinctly. As far as I recollect, it is a +romance, relating the wonderful fortune of a poet's life, wherein the +art of poesy is represented and extolled in all its various relations. +The conclusion is wanting to the manuscript, which I brought with me +from Jerusalem, where I found it left with a friend, and took it, away, +as a memorial of him."</p> + +<p class="normal">They now took leave of each other. Henry was moved to tears; +the cave +had become so remarkable and the hermit so dear to him.</p> + +<p class="normal">All embraced the hermit heartily, and he himself seemed to +have become +attached to them. Henry thought that he noticed his kind and +penetrating gaze fixed upon him. His farewell words to him were full of +meaning. He seemed to know of his discovery and to have reference to +it. He followed them to the entrance of the cave, after having +requested them, and particularly the boy, not to tell the farmers +concerning him, as it would only expose him to their troublesome +acquaintance.</p> + +<p class="normal">They all promised this. As they separated from him, and +commended +themselves to his prayers, he said,</p> + +<p class="normal">"But a short time and we shall see each other again, to smile +at the +conversation of this day. A heavenly dawn will surround us, and we +shall rejoice that we greeted each other kindly in this vale of +probation, and were inspired with like sentiments and anticipations. +There are angels who guide us here in safety. If your eye is fixed upon +Heaven, you will never lose the way to your home."</p> + +<p class="normal">They separated with a silent feeling of devotion, soon found +their +timorous companions, and amid general conversation shortly reached the +village, where Henry's mother, who had been somewhat anxious about him, +received them with a thousand expressions of joy.</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<p class="normal">Men, who are born for business, for action, cannot too soon contemplate +for themselves and animate all things. They must themselves grapple +with and pass through many relations, must harden their whole being +against the influence of new situations, and the dissipation which a +multitude and variety of objects engenders; and they must accustom +themselves, even in the urgency of great occasions to hold fast to the +thread of their object. They should not yield to the invitations of +inactive contemplation. Their soul must not be gazing at self; it must +be ceaselessly directed to outward things, a handmaid to the +understanding, active and prompt in discrimination. They are heroes; +and events press about them which must be fulfilled, and their problems +solved. By their influence all occurrences of chance become history, +and their life is an unbroken chain of remarkable and splendid, +intricate and singular events.</p> + +<p class="normal">Far otherwise is it with those quiet, unknown men, whose world +is their +own mind, whose activity the action of the contemplative intellect, and +whose life a gentle development of their inner powers. No desquietude +drives them to outward things. A tranquil possession satisfies them; +and the immense drama without does not entice them to engage in it +themselves; but they regard it as significant and wonderful, a source +of contemplation for their leisure moments. Longings for the spirit +hold them in the distance; and it is this spirit that destines them to +act the mysterious part of the mind in this human world, while others +represent the outer limbs and senses, the mind's projected powers. They +would be disturbed by great and various events. A simple life is their +lot, and they become acquainted with the rich subject-matter and +countless phenomena of the world from relations and writings alone. But +seldom in the course of their lives does any occurrence draw them along +with it in its sudden vortex, in order to acquaint them by a few +experiences more accurately with the situation and character of active +men. On the contrary, their susceptible minds are already sufficiently +busied with near and insignificant phenomena, which represent the great +world as it were renewed; and they will advance no step, without making +the most surprising discoveries in themselves, concerning the nature +and significance of these phenomena. They are poets, those men of rare +inspiration, who at times wander through our dwelling-place, and +everywhere renew the ancient, venerable, service of humanity, and of +its first gods,--the stars, spring, love, happiness, fertility, health, +and the joyous heart; they, who are already here in possession of +heavenly rest, and, driven about by no foolish desires, breathe only +the fragrance of earthly fruits, without devouring them, then to be +irrevocably chained to the lower world. They are free guests whose +golden feet tread softly, and whose presence involuntarily outspreads +its wings around. A poet may be known, like a good king, by cheerful +and bright faces, and he alone justly bears the name of sage. If you +compare him with heroes, you will find that the songs of the poets +frequently awake heroic courage in youthful hearts; but heroic deeds +have probably never awakened the spirit of poesy in any mind whatever. +Henry was a poet by nature. Many events seemed to conspire to aid his +development, and as yet nothing had disturbed the elasticity of his +soul. All that he saw and heard seemed only to remove new bars within +him, and to open new windows for his spirit. The world, with its great +and changing relations, lay before him. But as yet it was silent; and +its soul, its language was not yet awakened. Soon did a poet approach, +holding a lovely girl by the hand, that by the sound of the mother +tongue, and by the movement of a sweet and tender mouth; the soft lips +might unlock and the simple harmony unfold in unending melodies.</p> + +<p class="normal">The journey was now ended. It was towards evening when our +travellers, +in safety and good spirits, arrived at the far-famed city of Augsburg, +and, full of expectation, rode through the high streets to the spacious +mansion of the old Swaning.</p> + +<p class="normal">The surrounding country had already appeared delightful to the +eyes of +Henry. The animated bustle of the city, and the great houses of stone +affected him strangely, yet agreeably. He experienced a real pleasure +in thinking of his future abode. His mother was very much pleased to +see herself in her native city after her wearisome journey, soon to +embrace again her father and old acquaintances, to introduce Henry to +them, and for once be able quietly to forget all household cares in the +cordial remembrances of her youth. The merchants hoped by the pleasures +there to indemnify themselves for the discomforts of their journey, and +to do a profitable business.</p> + +<p class="normal">Lights gleamed from the house of the old Swaning, and joyous +music +swelled towards them. "What will you bet," said the merchants, "that +your grandfather is not giving a merry party? We came as if invited. +How much his uninvited guests will astonish him. He is not dreaming +that now the true festivity is about to commence." Henry felt +embarrassed, and his mother was only anxious about their dress. They +alighted; the merchants remained with the horses, and Henry and his +mother entered the splendid mansion. Not a soul belonging to the house +was to be seen below. They were obliged to ascend the lofty stairs. +Some servants ran past them; they asked them to inform the old Swaning +of the arrival of some strangers who wished to speak with him. The +servants made some objection at first, for the travellers did not +appear in very good condition as to dress, yet finally they announced +them to the master of the house. The old Swaning came out. He did not +know them at first, and asked them their names and business. Henry's +mother wept and fell upon his neck.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Do you not know your own daughter?" she exclaimed weeping. "I +bring +you my son."</p> + +<p class="normal">The aged father was extremely moved. He pressed her long to +his bosom. +Henry sank upon his knee and tenderly kissed his hand. He raised him to +himself and held both mother and son in his embrace.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Come right in," said Swaning, "I have only my friends and +acquaintances here, who will rejoice with me." Henry's mother +hesitated, but had no time to consider. The father led them both into +the lighted hall.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Here I bring my daughter and grandson from Eisenach," cried +Swaning, +in the merry crowd of gaily dressed guests.</p> + +<p class="normal">All eyes were turned towards the door; all ran to it; the +music ceased, +and the two travellers stood bewildered and dazzled in their dusty +dresses, in the midst of the motley throng. A thousand joyful +exclamations passed from mouth to mouth. All her acquaintances pressed +around the mother. Innumerable were the questions which were asked. +Each one wished to be recognised and welcomed first. Whilst the elder +part of the company were attending to the mother, the attention of the +younger portion was directed to the strange youth, who was standing +with downcast eyes, not daring to look again upon the unknown faces. +His grandfather introduced him to the company, and inquired after his +father and about the occurrences of his journey.</p> + +<p class="normal">The mother thought of the merchants, who out of politeness had +remained +below by the horses. She told her father, who sent down for them +immediately, and invited them to ascend. The horses were led into the +stable, and the merchants appeared.</p> + +<p class="normal">Swaning thanked them heartily for the friendly escort they had +afforded +his daughter. They were acquainted with many who were present, and +exchanged friendly greetings. The mother asked permission to change her +dress. Swaning led her to her chamber, and Henry followed for the same +purpose.</p> + +<p class="normal">The appearance of one man was very striking to Henry, who +thought that +he had seen him in that book. His noble bearing distinguished him from +all the rest. His face wore an expression of serene gravity, an open, +finely arched forehead, large, black, penetrating, and tranquil eyes, a +humorous expression about his pleasant mouth, and his full manly +proportions, gave to him a meaning and fascinating appearance. He was +strongly built, his movements quiet and expressive, and where he stood +he seemed about to stay forever. Henry asked his grandfather about him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I am glad," said the old man, "that you noticed him. It is my +excellent friend Klingsohr, the poet. You should be prouder of his +acquaintance than of the emperor's. But how is your heart? He has a +beautiful daughter, who perhaps will surpass the father in your eyes. +It would be strange if you had not noticed her."</p> + +<p class="normal">Henry blushed; "my mind has been distracted, dear grandfather. +The +company is numerous, and I was looking only at your friend."</p> + +<p class="normal">"We see that you came from the North," replied Swaning; "we +shall soon +thaw you out here. You shall learn soon to look after pretty faces."</p> + +<p class="normal">They were now ready, and returned to the hall, where in the +mean time +preparations for supper had been made. The old Swaning led Henry to +Klingsohr, and told him that Henry had noticed him particularly, and +ardently desired to become acquainted with him.</p> + +<p class="normal">Henry was confused. Klingsohr spoke kindly to him of his +fatherland and +of his journey. There was so much to inspire confidence in his voice, +that Henry soon gained courage and conversed with him freely. After a +little while Swaning came to them again, bringing with him the +beautiful Matilda.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You must receive my grandson kindly, and pardon him that he +has +noticed your father before you. Your bright eyes will awaken his youth +within him. In his native land Spring comes too late."</p> + +<p class="normal">Henry and Matilda blushed. They gazed admiringly upon each +other. She +asked him, with scarcely audible words, whether he was fond of dancing. +While he was answering in the affirmative, the merry music struck up. +He silently offered her his hand; she accepted it, and they mingled +among the rows of waltzers. Swaning and Klingsohr looked on. The mother +and the merchants were delighted with Henry's grace and with his lovely +partner. The mother had enough to converse about with the friends of +her youth, who wished her much happiness from so well educated and +hopeful a son.</p> + +<p class="normal">Klingsohr said to Swaning,--"Your grandson has an attractive +countenance; it indicates a clear and comprehensive mind, and his voice +comes deep from his heart."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I hope," replied Swaning, "that he will become your docile +pupil. It +seems to me that he is born for a poet. May your spirit fall upon him. +He looks like his father, only he seems more ardent and excitable. The +former was a youth of superior talents. He was wanting, however, in a +certain liberality of mind. He might have become something more than an +industrious and able mechanic."</p> + +<p class="normal">Henry wished that the dance would never end. With heartfelt +pleasure +his eyes rested on the roses of his partner. Her innocent eye did not +avoid his. She appeared like the spirit of her father in the most +lovely disguise. Eternal youth spoke from her full and quiet eyes. Upon +a light blue ground lay the mild splendor of the brown stars. Her +forehead and nose were beautifully formed. Her face was like a lily +inclined towards the rising sun, and from her slender white neck, the +blue veins clung round her tender cheeks in gentle curves. Her voice +was like a distant echo, and her small head with its brown tresses +seemed but to hover over her airy form.</p> + +<p class="normal">Refreshments were brought in, and the dances closed. The elder +people +seated themselves on one side, the younger on the other.</p> + +<p class="normal">Henry remained with Matilda. A young relative seated herself +at his +left, and Klingsohr sat opposite him. If Matilda said but little, his +other neighbor, Veronika, was so much the more talkative. She +immediately played the familiar with him, and soon made him acquainted +with all present. Henry lost much of her conversation. He was still +with his partner, and wished to turn much oftener to the right. +Klingsohr made an end to their talking. He asked about the band with +the strange devices, which Henry had fastened to his coat. He told him +with much emotion of the girl from the holy land. Matilda wept; and now +Henry could scarcely hide his tears. For this reason he entered into +conversation with her. All were enjoying themselves, and Veronika joked +and laughed with her acquaintances. Matilda described Hungary, where +her father often dwelt, and the mode of life in Augsburg. The enjoyment +was at its height. The music put all restraint to flight, and all the +affections into a joyful play. Baskets of flowers in all their splendor +exhaled their odors upon the table, and the wine danced about between +the dishes and the flowers, shook its golden wings, and formed many +varied pictures between the guests and the world. Henry now understood +for the first time what was meant by a festival. A thousand happy +spirits seemed to gambol around the table, and to live in silent +sympathy with the joys of the happy people, and to intoxicate +themselves with their pleasures. The enjoyment of life stood before +him, like a tinkling tree full of golden fruits. Pain had vanished, and +it seemed impossible that ever human inclination should have turned +from this tree to the dangerous fruit of knowledge, the tree of strife. +He now learned what were wine and food. They tasted very richly to him. +A heavenly oil seasoned them for him, and from the beaker sparkled the +splendor of earthly life. Some of the maidens brought a fresh garland +to the old Swaning. He put it on, and kissing them, said, "You must +bring one also to our friend Klingsohr, and for thanks he will teach +you a couple of new songs. You shall have mine immediately. He beckoned +for the music to commence, and sang with a clear voice:--</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Surely life is most distressing,</p> +<p class="i6">And a mournful fate we meet!</p> +<p class="i6">Stress and need our only blessing,</p> +<p class="i6">Practised only in deceit;</p> +<p class="i6">And our bosoms never daring</p> +<p class="i6">To unfold their soft despairing.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"What the elders all are telling,</p> +<p class="i6">To the youthful heart is waste;</p> +<p class="i6">Throes of longing are we feeling</p> +<p class="i6">The forbidden fruit to taste;</p> +<p class="i6">Would the gentle youths but deign us,</p> +<p class="i6">And believe that they could gain us!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Thinking so then are we sinning?</p> +<p class="i6">All our thoughts are duty-free.</p> +<p class="i6">What indeed to us remaining,</p> +<p class="i6">Wretched wights, but fantasy?</p> +<p class="i6">Do we strive our dreams to banish,</p> +<p class="i6">Never, never will they vanish.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"When in prayer at even bending</p> +<p class="i6">Frightens us the loneliness,</p> +<p class="i6">Favor and desire are wending</p> +<p class="i6">Thitherward to our caress;</p> +<p class="i6">How disdain the fair offender,</p> +<p class="i6">Or resist the soft surrender?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Mothers stern our charms concealing,</p> +<p class="i6">Every day prescribe anew.</p> +<p class="i6">What availeth all our willing?</p> +<p class="i6">Spring they not again to view?</p> +<p class="i6">Warm desire is ever riving</p> +<p class="i6">Closest fetters with its striving.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Every impulse harshly spurning</p> +<p class="i6">Hard and cold to be as stone,</p> +<p class="i6">Never glances bright returning,</p> +<p class="i6">Close to be and all alone,</p> +<p class="i6">Heed to no entreaty giving,--</p> +<p class="i6">Call you that the flower of living?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Ah, how great a maid's annoyance,</p> +<p class="i6">Sick and chafed her bosom is,--</p> +<p class="i6">And to make her only joyance,</p> +<p class="i6">Withered lips bestow a kiss!</p> +<p class="i6">Will the leaf be turning never,</p> +<p class="i6">Elders' reign to end forever?"</p> +</div></div> +<p class="normal">Both old and young laughed. The girls blushed and smiled +aside. Amidst +a thousand railleries a second garland was brought and put upon +Klingsohr. They begged him, however, very earnestly not to give them +such a gay song. "No," said Klingsohr, "I will take good care not to +speak so lightly of your secrets; say yourselves what kind of a song +you would prefer."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Anything but a love song," cried the girls; "let it be a +drinking song +if you like." Klingsohr sang:--</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"On verdant mountain-side is growing</p> +<p class="i6">The god, who heaven to us brings;</p> +<p class="i6">The sun's own foster-child, and glowing</p> +<p class="i6">With all the fire its favor flings.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"In Spring is he conceived with pleasure,</p> +<p class="i6">The bud unfolds in silent joy,</p> +<p class="i6">And mid the Autumn's harvest-treasure</p> +<p class="i6">Forth springs to life the golden boy.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Within his narrow cradle lying,</p> +<p class="i6">In vaulted rooms beneath the ground,</p> +<p class="i6">He dreams of feasts and banners flying</p> +<p class="i6">And airy castles all around.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Near to his dwelling none remaineth,</p> +<p class="i6">When chafeth he in restless strife,</p> +<p class="i6">And every hoop and fetter straineth</p> +<p class="i6">In all the pride of youthful life.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"For viewless watchmen round are closing,</p> +<p class="i6">Until his lordly dreams are o'er,</p> +<p class="i6">With air-enveloped spears opposing</p> +<p class="i6">The loiterer near the sacred door.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"So when unfold his sleeping pinions,</p> +<p class="i6">With sparkling eyes he greets the day,</p> +<p class="i6">Obeys in peace his priestly minions,</p> +<p class="i6">And forth he cometh when they pray.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"From cradle's murky bosom faring,</p> +<p class="i6">He winketh through a crystal dress,</p> +<p class="i6">The rose of close alliance bearing,</p> +<p class="i6">Expressive in its ruddiness.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"And everywhere around are pressing</p> +<p class="i6">His merry men in jubilee,</p> +<p class="i6">Their love find gratitude confessing</p> +<p class="i6">To him with jocund tongue and free.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"He scatters o'er the fields and valleys</p> +<p class="i6">His innerlife in countless rays,</p> +<p class="i6">And Love is sipping from his chalice,</p> +<p class="i6">And pledged forever with him stays.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"As spirit of the golden ages,</p> +<p class="i6">The Poet alway he beguiles,</p> +<p class="i6">Who everywhere in reeling pages</p> +<p class="i6">Doth celebrate his pleasant wiles.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"He gave him, his allegiance sealing,</p> +<p class="i6">To every pretty mouth a right,</p> +<p class="i6">And this the god through him revealing,</p> +<p class="i6">That none the edict dare to slight."</p> +</div></div> +<p class="normal">"A fine prophet!" exclaimed the girls. Swaning was heartily +pleased. +They made some objections, but all to no purpose. They were obliged to +reach out their sweet lips to him. Henry blushed only on account of his +earnest neighbor; otherwise he would have loudly rejoiced in the +privilege of the poet. Veronika was among the garland bearers. She came +suddenly back and said to Henry, "truly, is it not a fine thing to be a +poet?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Henry did not trust himself to take advantage of this +question. Excess +of joy and the earnestness of first love were contending in his breast. +The charming Veronika was joking with the others, and in the meanwhile +he found time somewhat to quench his joy. Matilda told him that she +played the guitar. "Ah!" said he, "how I should love to learn it from +you. I have for a long time desired it."</p> + +<p class="normal">"My father instructed me; he plays it matchlessly," said she +blushing.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I believe, however," said Henry, "that I can learn it more +easily from +you. How delighted I should be to hear you sing."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Do not expect too much."</p> + +<p class="normal">"O!" said Henry, "what may I not expect, since your speech +merely is +song, and your form is expressive of heavenly music."</p> + +<p class="normal">Matilda was silent. Her father commenced a conversation, in +which Henry +spoke with the most lively spirit. Those who were near wondered at the +fluency of the young man's speech, and the richness of his imagery. +Matilda gazed upon him with silent attention. She seemed to delight in +his words, which were still more clearly explained by his speaking +features. His eyes appeared unusually brilliant. He turned at times +towards Matilda, who was astonished by the expression of his face. In +the warmth of conversation, he involuntarily seized her hand, and she +could not but sanction much of what he said, with a gentle pressure. +Klingsohr knew how to keep up his enthusiasm, and gradually drew his +whole soul from his lips. At last all rose. There was a general +confusion. Henry remained by the side of Matilda. They stood apart +unobserved. He clasped her hand and kissed it tenderly. She suffered +him to hold it without opposition, and looked upon him with unspeakable +kindness. He could not restrain himself, bent towards her, and kissed +her lips. She was taken unawares and involuntarily returned his ardent +kiss. "Sweet Matilda,"--"Dear Henry,"--this was all they could say to +each other. She pressed his hand, and then mingled with her companions. +Henry stood as if in Heaven. His mother came to him. He told her all +concerning his love.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is it not a good thing that we have visited Augsburg?" said +she. "Does +it not in truth please you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Dear mother," said Henry, "I had not represented it to myself +thus. It +is most glorious."</p> + +<p class="normal">The remainder of the evening passed away in infinite pleasure. +The old +people played, talked, and observed the dancing. The music undulated +through the hall like a pleasure-sea, and bore along the enraptured +youth upon its surface.</p> + +<p class="normal">Henry felt the rapturous presages of the first buoyancy of +love. +Matilda also willingly suffered herself to be carried away by the +flattering waves, and only concealed from him her tender trust, her +budding inclination, behind a light flower veil. The old Swaning +noticed the growing intimacy between them, and teazed them both about +it. Klingsohr had taken a liking to Henry, and was pleased with his +tenderness towards his daughter.--The other young men and girls soon +noticed it. They brought the sober Matilda forward with the young +Thuringian, and did not conceal that they were glad no longer to be +obliged to shun Matilda's observation of the secrets of their hearts.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was late in the evening when the company separated. "The +first and +only feast of my life," said Henry, when he was alone, and his mother +had retired wearied to rest. "Do I not feel as I felt in that dream +about the blue flower? What peculiar connexion is there between Matilda +and that flower? That face, which bowed towards me from the petals, was +Matilda's heavenly countenance, and I also now remember that I saw it +in that book. But why did it not there thus move my heart? O! she is +the visible spirit of song, the worthy daughter of her father. She will +dissolve me into music. She will become my inmost soul, the guardian +spirit of my holy fire. What an eternity of faithful love do I feel +within me? I was born only to revere her, to serve her forever, to +think of and to feel her. Does there not belong a peculiar, undivided +existence to her contemplation and worship? Am I the happy one, whose +being may be the echo, the mirror of her's? It is not owing to chance +that I have seen her at the end of my journey, that a happy feast has +encircled the highest moment of my life. It could not have been +otherwise; for does not her presence render every thing a feast?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He stepped to the window. The choir of the stars stood in the +dusky +sky, and in the east a white glimmer announced the coming day.</p> + +<p class="normal">Full of rapture, Henry exclaimed, "Ye eternal stars, ye silent +wanderers, I call upon you as witnesses of my sacred oath. For Matilda +will I live, and eternal constancy shall bind her to my heart. The +morning of eternal day is also opening for me. The night is past. I +kindle myself to the rising sun, for an inextinguishable offering."</p> + +<p class="normal">Henry was heated, and only fell asleep late in the morning. +The +thoughts of his soul flowed together into a wonderful dream. A deep +blue stream glimmered from the green plains. A boat was floating upon +the smooth surface. Matilda was sitting in it, and steering. She was +adorned with garlands, singing a simple song, and looked over to him +with sweet sadness. His bosom was oppressed, he knew not why. The sky +was clear; the flood quiet. Her heavenly face was reflected in the +waves. Suddenly the boat began to whirl. He cried out to her earnestly. +She smiled and laid down the helm in the boat which continued its +whirling. He was seized with overwhelming fear. He plunged into the +stream, but could not move, and was hurried along. She beckoned to him, +as if she had something to tell him, and though the boat was fast +filling with water, yet she smiled with unspeakable tenderness, and +looked down serenely into the abyss. Suddenly it drew her in. A gentle +breath of air passed over the stream, which, flowed on as quiet and +glittering as ever. His intense anxiety robbed Henry of all +consciousness. His heart no longer throbbed. On recovering, his senses, +he was on the dry land. He must have floated a long distance. It was a +strange country. He knew not what had happened to him. His mind had +vanished. Thoughtlessly he plunged deeper and deeper into the country. +He was excessively weary. A little spring gushed from the side of a +hill, sounding like the music of bells. In his hand he caught +a few drops, and with them wetted his parched lips. The terrible +occurrence lay behind him like a fearful dream. He walked on farther +and farther;--flowers and trees spoke to him.</p> + +<p class="normal">Now he felt in high spirits and at home. He heard that song +again. He +ran to the place whence the sounds proceeded. Suddenly some one held +him by the clothes. "Dear Henry," cried a well known voice. He looked +round, and Matilda clasped him in her arms.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why did you run from me, dear heart," cried she panting. "I +could +scarcely overtake you."</p> + +<p class="normal">Henry wept. He clasped her to himself, "Where is the stream?" +cried he +with tears.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Do you not see its blue waves above us?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He looked up, and the blue stream was flowing gently over his +head.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Where are we, dear Matilda?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"With our fathers."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Shall we remain together?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Forever," she replied, while she pressed her lips to his, and +so +embraced him that she could not tear herself from him. She put a +wondrous, secret word into his mouth, and it rang through his whole +being. He was about to repeat it, when his grandfather called, and he +awoke. He would have given his life to remember that word.</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<p class="normal">Klingsohr stood before his bed and kindly bade him good morning. He was +in high spirits, and fell upon Klingsohr's neck. "That is not meant for +you," cried Swaning. Henry smiled, and hid his blushes on his mother's +cheeks.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Would you like to go with me," said Klingsohr, "and breakfast +on a +beautiful eminence just before the city? The fine morning would refresh +you. Dress yourself. Matilda is already waiting for us."</p> + +<p class="normal">Henry with a thousand joyful feelings thanked him for his +welcome +invitation. In a moment he was ready, and kissed Klingsohr's hand with +much fervor. They went to Matilda, who looked wonderfully lovely in her +simple morning dress, and who greeted him kindly. She had already +packed her breakfast into a little basket which she hung upon one arm, +and without ceremony gave the other to Henry. Klingsohr followed them, +and thus they passed through the city, already full of animation, to a +little hill by the river, where a wide and full prospect opened between +some lofty trees.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Though I have often," said Henry, "delighted in the unfolding +of +varied nature in the peaceful neighborhood of her manifold possessions; +yet never has such a creative and pure serenity filled me, as today. +Those distant points seem so near to me, and the rich landscape is like +an inward fantasy. How changeable is nature, however unchangeable +appears its surface! How different is it when an angel, a spirit of +power is at our side, than when a person in distress utters his +complaints before us, or a farmer tells us how unfortunate the weather +is for him, or how much he needs some rainy days for his crops. To you, +dearest master, do I owe this bliss; yes, this bliss,--for there is no +other word that can more truly express my heart's condition. Joy, +desire, transport, are merely the members of that bliss which inspires +them with a higher life." He pressed Matilda's hand to his heart, and +his ardent gaze sank deep into her mild and susceptible eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Nature," replied Klingsohr, "is for our mind, what a body is +for +light. It reflects it, separates it into its proper colors, kindles a +light on its surface or within it, when it equals its opacity: when it +is superior, it rays forth in order to enlighten other bodies. But even +the darkest bodies can, by water, fire, and air, be made clear and +brilliant."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I understand you, dear master. Men are crystals for our +minds. They +are the transparent nature. Dear Matilda, I might call you a pure and +costly sapphire. You are clear and transparent as the heavens; you beam +with the mildest light. But tell me, dear master, whether I am right; +it seems to me that at the very point when one is most intimate with +nature, he can and would say the least concerning her."</p> + +<p class="normal">"That depends upon your view of her," said Klingsohr. "Nature +is one +thing for our enjoyment and our disposition, but another for our +intellect, the guiding faculty of our earthward powers. We must take +good care not to lose sight of one more than the other. There are many +who only know the one side, and think but little of the other. But we +can unite them both, and that too with profit. A great pity it is, that +so few think of being able to move freely and fitly in their inner +natures, and to insure for themselves, by a necessary separation, the +most effectual and natural use of their faculties. Usually the one +hinders the other; and thus a helpless sluggishness gradually arises, +so that, if such men should ever arise with united powers, a great +confusion and contention would ensue, and all things would be tossed +here and there in an ungainly manner. I cannot sufficiently impress +upon you, to endeavor with industry and care to be acquainted with your +own intellect and natural bias. Nothing is more indispensable to the +poet, than insight into the nature of every occupation, acquaintance +with the means by which every object may be attained, and the power of +fitly regulating the presence of the spirit according to time and +circumstances. Inspiration without intellect is useless and dangerous; +and the poet will be able to perform few wonders, when he is astonished +by wonders."</p> + +<p class="normal">"But is not an implicit faith in man's dominion over destiny +indispensable to the poet?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Certainly indispensable, because he cannot represent fate to +himself +in any other light, when he maturely reflects upon it. But how distant +is this calm certainty from that anxious doubt, which proceeds from the +blind fear of superstition! And thus also the steady, animating warmth +of a poetic mind is exactly the reverse of the wild heat of a sickly +heart. The one is poor, overwhelming, and transient; the other +perfectly distinguishes all forms, favors the culture of the most +manifold relations, and is in itself eternal. The youthful poet cannot +be too cool and considerate. A far-reaching, attentive, and quiet +disposition belongs to the true, melodious ease of address. It becomes +a confused prattling, when a violent storm is raging in the breast; and +the attention is lost in a trembling emptiness of thought. Once more I +repeat it; the true mind is like the light; even as calm and sensitive, +as elastic and penetrating, as powerful and as imperceptibly active, as +that costly element, which with its native regularity scatters itself +upon all objects, and exhibits them in charming variety. The poet is +pure steel, as sensitive as a brittle thread of glass, as hard as the +unyielding flint."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I have indeed at times felt," said Henry, "that in the +moments when my +inner nature was most awake, I was less excited than at other times, +when I could run about freely and attend to all occupations with +pleasure. A spiritual, penetrative essence permeated me, and I could +employ every sense at pleasure, could revolve every thought like an +actual body, and view it from all sides. I stood with silent sympathy +in my father's work-shop, and rejoiced when I could help him to +accomplish anything properly. Propriety has a peculiarly strengthening +charm, and it is true that the consciousness of it gives rise to a more +lasting and distinct enjoyment, than that overflowing feeling of an +incomprehensible, superfluous splendor."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Believe not," said Klingsohr, "that I disregard the latter; +but it +must come of itself and not be bought. The rarity of its appearance is +beneficent; if more frequent, it would weary and weaken. One cannot +quickly enough tear himself from the sweet rapture which it leaves +behind, and return to a regular and laborious occupation. It is as with +pleasant morning dreams, from whose sleepy vortex one must extricate +himself by force, if he would not fall into a lassitude, continually +more oppressive, and so struggle through the whole day in sickly +exhaustion."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Poetry," continued Klingsohr, "will be cultivated strictly as +an art. +As mere enjoyment it ceases to be poetry. The poet must not run about +unoccupied the whole day in chase of figures and feelings. That is the +very reverse of the proper method. A pure, open mind, dexterity in +reflection and contemplation, and ability to put forth all the +faculties in a mutually animating effort, and to keep them so,--these +are the requisites of our art. If you will commit yourself to my care, +no day shall pass in which you shall not add stores to your knowledge, +and obtain some useful views. The city is rich in artists of all +descriptions. There are some experienced statesmen and educated +merchants here. One can get acquainted with all ranks without much +difficulty, with people of all pursuits, and with all social +circumstances and requirements. I will with pleasure instruct you in +the mechanical part of our art, and read its most remarkable +productions with you. You may share Matilda's hours of instruction, and +she will willingly teach you to play the guitar. Each occupation will +usher in the rest; and when you have thus well spent the day, the +conversation and pleasures of a social evening, and the views of the +beautiful landscapes around, will continually renew to you the calmest +enjoyment."</p> + +<p class="normal">"What a glorious life you here lay open to me, dear master. +Under your +guidance I shall for the first time understand what a noble mark is +before me, and how by your counsel alone I can hope to attain it."</p> + +<p class="normal">Klingsohr embraced him tenderly. Matilda brought them the +breakfast, +and Henry asked her with a tender voice, whether she would be kind +enough to receive him as fellow pupil, and her own scholar. "I shall +probably be your scholar forever," said he, as Klingsohr turned away. +She nodded slightly towards him. He threw his arms around the blushing +maiden, and kissed her soft lips. Gently she retreated from him, yet +handed him with childish grace a rose which she wore in her bosom. She +then busied herself about her basket. Henry watched her with silent +rapture, kissed the rose, fixed it on his breast, and walked to +Klingsohr's side, who was gazing down at the city.</p> + +<p class="normal">"By what road, did you come here," asked Klingsohr.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Down over that hill," replied Henry, "where the road loses +itself in +the distance."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You must have seen some fair landscapes."</p> + +<p class="normal">"We travelled through an almost uninterrupted series of +beautiful +ones."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Perhaps your native town is pleasantly situated?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"The country is varied enough; it is rude, however, and a +noble river +is wanting. Streams are the eyes of a landscape."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Your account of your journey," said Klingsohr, "agreeably +entertained +me last evening. I have indeed observed that the spirit of poesy is +your kind companion. Your friends have unobservedly become its voices. +Where a poet is, poetry everywhere breaks out. The land of poetry, +romantic Palestine, has greeted you with its sweet sadness; war has +addressed you in its wild glory, and nature and history have met you in +the forms of a miner and a hermit."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You forget the best, dear master, the heavenly appearance of +love. It +depends upon you, whether this appearance shall forever remain with +me."</p> + +<p class="normal">"What do you think," cried Klingsohr as he turned to Matilda +who was +just approaching; "would you like to become Henry's inseparable +companion? Where you are, I remain also."</p> + +<p class="normal">Matilda was terrified. She flew into her father's arms. Henry +trembled +with infinite joy. "Shall he then be with me forever, dear father?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ask him for yourself," said Klingsohr with emotion.</p> + +<p class="normal">She looked upon Henry with the most heart-felt tenderness.</p> + +<p class="normal">"My eternity is indeed thy work," cried Henry, whilst the +tears rolled +down his blooming cheeks.</p> + +<p class="normal">They embraced each other. Klingsohr caught them in his arms. +"My +children," he cried, "be faithful to each other unto death! Love and +constancy will make your life eternal poesy."</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<p class="normal">In the afternoon Klingsohr led to his room his new son, in whose +happiness his mother and grandfather took the tenderest interest, +honoring Matilda as his protecting spirit, and made him acquainted with +his books. Afterward they spoke of poetry.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I know not," said Klingsohr, "why the representation of +nature as a +poet is commonly considered poetry. She is not so at all times. Dull +desire, stupid apathy and sluggishness, are in her, as in men, exposing +qualities which wage a restless strife with poesy. This mighty battle +would be a fine subject for a poem. Many lands and ages seem, like the +majority of men, to stand entirely under the dominion of this enemy to +poesy; in others, on the contrary, poesy is at home and everywhere +visible. The periods of this battle are very worthy of the historian's +notice, and its representation is a pleasant and profitable employment. +It is usually the season of the poet's birth. Nothing is more +disagreeable to its adversary than that she, herself being opposed to +poesy, becomes a poetic personage, and often in the heat of the +engagement changes weapons with poesy, and is violently struck by her +own venomous darts; while, on the other hand, the wounds of poesy, +which she receives from her own weapons, heal readily, and only serve +to render her yet more charming and powerful."</p> + +<p class="normal">"On the whole," said Henry, "war seems to me poetical. People +fancy +that they must fight for a possession no matter how miserable, and do +not observe that the spirit of romance excites them to annihilate all +useless baseness. They carry arms for the cause of poesy, and both +hosts follow an invisible standard."</p> + +<p class="normal">"In war," replied Klingsohr, "the primeval fluid is stirred +up. New +continents are to arise, new races to spring forth from the great +dissolution. The true war is the war of religion; its direct end is +destruction; and men's madness appears in its full dimensions. Many +wars, particularly those which originate in national hate, belong to +this class, and are real poems. Here true heroes are at home, who, +being the noblest antitypes of poesy, are but earthly powers +involuntarily penetrated by poesy. A poet, who at the same time were a +hero, would be indeed a heavenly messenger; but our poetry is not equal +to the work of representing him."</p> + +<p class="normal">"How am I to understand that, dear father," said Henry. "Can +any object +be too lofty for poesy?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Certainly. We cannot on the whole speak for poesy itself, but +only for +her earthly means and instruments. If indeed there is for every single +poet a proper district within which he must remain, in order not to +lose all breath and vantage, then there is also for the whole sum of +human powers a determinate boundary line to the capacity for +representation; beyond which representation cannot retain the necessary +strength or form, but loses itself in an empty, delusive nonentity. +Particularly as a pupil, one cannot guard enough against these +extravagances; since a lively fancy loves too well to fly to the +extreme bounds, and arrogantly endeavors to seize upon and express the +supersensual and exuberant. Riper experience first teaches us to shun +this disproportion of objects, and to leave the investigation of what +is simplest and loftiest to worldly wisdom. The older poet rises no +higher than is needful to arrange, his vast stock in a comprehensible +order, and he is careful to omit the manifoldness, which afforded him +the requisite material, and also the necessary points of agreement. I +might almost say that in every line chaos should shine through the +well-clipped foliage of order. A graceful style merely renders the +richness of the thought more comprehensible and agreeable; regular +symmetry, on the contrary, has all the dryness of numbers. The best +poesy lies very near us, and an ordinary matter is not seldom the +object of its most tender love. With the poet, poetry is confined to +limited instruments, and just so far becomes an art. Language +especially has its fixed sphere. The compass of one's native tongue is +yet narrower. By practice and reflection the poet learns to understand +his own language. He knows exactly what he can accomplish by its aid, +and will make no fruitless attempt to strain it beyond its powers. +Seldom will he collect all its powers upon a single point; for +otherwise he becomes wearisome, and even destroys the rich effect of a +well applied exhibition of its strength. No poet, but a quack, aims at +wonderful efforts."[See <a name="div1Ref_note3" href="#div1_note3">Note III</a>.]</p> + +<p class="normal">"Poets on the whole cannot learn too much from musicians and painters. +In these arts it is very striking, how necessary it is to take sparing +advantage of the auxiliary means of the art, and how much depends upon +proper relations. Those artists, on the contrary, can certainty accept +from us the poetic independence, and the inner spirit of each +composition and invention; particularly of every genuine work. The +execution, not the material, is the object of the art. They should be +more poetical, we more musical and graphic; yet both according to the +manner and method of our art. You yourself will soon see in what songs +you can best succeed; they will certainly be those, the subjects of +which are easiest and nearest at hand. Therefore it can be said that +poetry rests entirely upon experience. I know that in my younger days +an object could hardly seem too distant and too unknown, for such I +delighted most to sing. What was the result? An empty, meagre flash of +words, without a spark of true poetry. Thence the tale<a name="div1Ref_ftn3" href="#div1_ftn3"><sup>3</sup></a> is the most +difficult of tasks, and a young poet will seldom perform it correctly."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I should like to hear one of yours," said Henry. "The few I +have +heard, though insignificant, have delighted me exceedingly."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I will satisfy your wish this evening. I remember one which I +composed +when quite young, which is sufficiently evident still; yet it will +entertain you the more instructively, for it will recall much that I +have told you."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Language," said Henry, "is indeed a little world in signs and +sounds. +As man rules over it, so would he rule the great world, and in it +express himself freely. And in this very joy of expressing in the world +what is without it, and of doing that which in reality was the primal +object of our existence, lies the origin of poetry."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is very unfortunate," said Klingsohr, "that poetry has a +particular +name, and that poets constitute a particular class. It is not, however, +strange. It arises from the natural action of the human sprit. Does not +every man strive and compose at every moment?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Just then Matilda entered the room. Klingsohr continued. +"Consider +love, for instance. In nothing is the necessity of poetry for the +continuance of humanity so clear as in that. Love is silent; poesy +alone can speak for it. Or rather love itself is nothing but the +highest poetry of nature. Yet I will not tell you of things, with which +you are better acquainted than I."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Thou art indeed the father of love;" cried Henry, as he threw +his arms +around Matilda, and they both kissed his hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">Klingsohr embraced them and went out.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Dear Matilda," said Henry after a long kiss, "it seems to me +like a +dream, that thou art mine; yet it seems still more wonderful, that thou +hast not been so always."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It seems to me," said Matilda, "that I knew thee long, long +ago."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Canst thou then love me?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I know not what love is; but this can I tell thee, that it is +as if I +now first began to live, and that I am so devoted to thee that I would +this instant die for thee."</p> + +<p class="normal">"My Matilda, now for the first time do I feel what it is to be +immortal."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Dear Henry, how infinitely good thou art. What a glorious +spirit +speaks from thee. I am a poor, insignificant girl."</p> + +<p class="normal">"How thou dost make me blush! Indeed I am what I am only +through thee. +Without thee I were nothing. What were a spirit without a heaven; and +thou art the heaven that upbears and supports me."</p> + +<p class="normal">"How divinely happy should I be, wert thou as faithful as my +father. My +mother died shortly after my birth; yet my father weeps for her every +day."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I deserve it not, yet may I be happier than he!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I would joyfully live long by thy side, dear Henry. Certainly +through +thee I should become much better."</p> + +<p class="normal">"O! Matilda, even death shall not separate us."</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, Henry, where I am, wilt thou be."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes, where thou art, Matilda, will I forever be."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I comprehend not the meaning of eternity; yet I fancy that +what I +feel, when I think of thee, must constitute eternity."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes, Matilda, we are eternal, because we love each other."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Thou canst not believe, dearest, how fervently, when we came +home +early this morning, I knelt before the image of the holy mother, what +unspeakable things I prayed to her. I thought that I should melt away +in tears. It seemed as if she smiled upon me. I now for the first time +know what gratitude is."</p> + +<p class="normal">"O beloved, Heaven has given me thee to adore. I worship thee. +Thou art +the holy one that carriest my wishes to God, through whom He reveals +himself to me, through whom He makes known to me the fulness of His +love. What is religion but an infinite harmony, an eternal unison of +loving hearts? Where two are gathered together, He is indeed among +them. Thou wilt be my breath eternally. My bosom will never cease to +draw thee to itself. Thou art divine majesty, eternal life in the +loveliest of forms."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Alas, Henry, thou knowest the fate of the roses. Wilt thou +also press +the pale cheek, the withered lips, with tenderness to thy own? Will not +the traces of age be also the traces of bygone love?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"O that thou couldst see through my eyes into my spirit! But +thou +lovest me, and canst also believe me. I cannot comprehend what is said +of the withering of charms. They are unfading! That which draws me so +inseparably to thee, that has awakened in me such everlasting desire, +is not of this world. Couldst thou but see how thou appearest to me, +what a wonderful form penetrates thy shape, and everywhere is raying +towards me, thou wouldst not fear age. Thy earthly shape is but a +shadow of this form. The earthly faculties strive and swell that they +may incarnate it; but nature is yet unripe; the form is only an eternal +archetype, a fragment of the unknown holy world."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I understand thee, dear Henry, for I see something similar +when I look +upon thee."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes, Matilda, the higher world is nearer to us than we +usually +believe. Here already we live in it, and we see it closely interwoven +with our earthly nature."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Thou wilt yet reveal much that is glorious to me, beloved?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"O! Matilda, from thee alone cometh the gift of divination. +Everything +that I have is indeed thine. Thy love will lead me into the sanctuaries +of life, and the most sacred recesses of the mind; thou wilt fill me +with enthusiasm, wilt excite me to the highest contemplation. Who knows +that our love will not change to wings of flame bearing us upward, and +carrying us to our heavenly home, ere old age and death reach us? Is it +not a miracle already that thou art mine, that I hold thee in my arms, +that thou lovest me, and that thou wilt be mine forever?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"To me also everything seems possible, and I plainly feel a +gentle +flame kindling within me. Who knows that it does not transfigure us, +and gradually dissolve all earthly ties? Only tell me, Henry, whether +thou hast that boundless confidence in me, that I have in thee. Yet I +never have felt towards any one as I do towards thee; not even to my +father, whom I love so dearly."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Dear Matilda, it really torments me, that I cannot tell thee +everything at once, that I cannot at once give my whole heart to thee. +For the first time in my life am I perfectly frank. No thought, no +feeling can I longer conceal from thee,--thou must know everything. My +whole being shall mingle itself with thine. A most boundless +resignation to thee can alone satisfy my love. In that indeed it +consists. It is truly a most mysterious flowing together of our most +secret and personal existence."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Henry, two beings can never thus have loved each other."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I cannot believe it possible, for till now no Matilda has +lived."</p> + +<p class="normal">"And no Henry!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Swear to me once more that thou art mine. Love is an endless +repetition."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes, Henry, by the invisible presence of my good mother, I +swear to be +thine forever."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I swear to be thine forever, Matilda, as surely as love, +God's +presence, is with us."</p> + +<p class="normal">A long embrace and countless kisses sealed the eternal +alliance of the +blessed pair.</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<p class="normal">At evening some guests were present; the grandfather drank the health +of the young bridal pair, and promised to give them soon a splendid +marriage feast. "Of what use is long waiting?" said the old man. "Early +marriages make long love. I have always observed that marriages early +contracted were the happiest. In latter years there is no longer such a +devotion in the marriage relation as in youth. Youth, enjoyed in +common, forms an inseparable tie. Memory is the safest ground of love."</p> + +<p class="normal">After the meal more people came in. Henry asked his new father +to +fulfil his promise. Klingsohr said to the company, "I have promised +Henry to-day to relate a tale. If it would please you I am ready to do +so."</p> + +<p class="normal">"That was a wise idea of Henry's," said Swaning. "We have +heard nothing +from you for a long time."</p> + +<p class="normal">All seated themselves by the fire, which was sparkling on the +hearth. +Henry sat by Matilda, and stole his arm around her. Klingsohr began.</p> + +<p class="normal">"The long night had just set in. The old hero struck his +shield, so +that it resounded far through the solitary streets of the city. Thrice +he repeated the signal. Then the lofty, many-colored windows of the +palace began to shed abroad their light, and their figures were put in +motion. They moved the more quickly, as the ruddy stream which began to +illumine the streets became stronger. Also by degrees the immense +pillars and walls began to shine. At length they stood in the purest +milk-blue glimmer, and flickered with the softest colors. The whole +region was now visible, and the reflection of the figures, the clashing +of the spears, swords, shields, and helmets, which bowed from all sides +towards crowns appearing here and there, and finally closed round a +simple green garland in a wide circle, as the crowns vanished before +it; all this was reflected from the frozen sea that surrounded the hill +on which the city stood,--and even the far distant mountain range, +which girdled the sea, was half enwrapped with a mildly reflected +splendor. Nothing could be plainly distinguished; yet a strange sound +was heard, as if from an immense workshop in the distance. The city, on +the contrary, was light and clear. Its smooth transparent walls +reflected the beautiful beams; and the perfect symmetry, the noble +style, and fine arrangement of all the buildings were well defined. +Before every window stood earthern pots with ornaments, full of every +variety of ice and snow flowers, which sparkled most brilliantly.</p> + +<p class="normal">"But fairest of all appeared the garden upon the great square +in front +of the palace, consisting of metal plants and crystal trees, hung with +varied jewel-blossoms and fruits. The manifold and delicate shapes, the +lively lights and colors, formed a lordly spectacle, made still more +magnificent by a lofty fountain, frozen in the midst of the garden. The +old hero walked slowly past the palace doors. A voice from within +called his name. He turned towards the door, which opened with a gentle +sound, and stepped into the hall. His shield was held before his eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'Hast thou yet discovered nothing,' plaintively cried the +beautiful +daughter of Arcturus. She lay on silken cushions, upon a throne +artfully fashioned from a huge pyrite-crystal, and some maidens were +assiduously chafing her tender limbs, which seemed a rare union of milk +and purple. On all sides streamed from beneath the hands of the maidens +that charming light, which so wondrously illuminated the palace. A +perfumed breeze was waving through the hall. The hero was silent.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'Let me touch thy shield,' said she softly.</p> + +<p class="normal">"He approached the throne and stepped upon the costly carpet. +She +seized his hand, pressed it with tenderness to her heavenly bosom, and +touched his shield. His armor resounded, and a penetrating force +inspired his frame. His eyes flashed, and the heart beat loudly against +his breastplate. The beautiful Freya appeared more serene, and the +light that streamed from her became more brilliant.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'The king is coming,' cried a splendid bird that was perched +behind +the throne. The attendants threw an azure veil over the princess, which +concealed her heaving bosom. The hero lowered his shield, and looked +upward to the dome, whither two broad staircases wound from each side +of the hall. Soft music preceded the king, who soon appeared in the +dome, and descended with a numerous train.</p> + +<p class="normal">"The beautiful bird unfolded its shining wings, and gently +fluttering, +sang to the king as with a thousand voices:</p> +<div class="poem"> +<p class="i6">"The stranger fair delay no longer maketh.</p> +<p class="i6">Warmth draweth near, Eternity begins.</p> +<p class="i6">From long and tedious dreams the Queen awaketh,</p> +<p class="i6">When land in eddying love with ocean spins.</p> +<p class="i6">Her farewell hence the chilly midnight taketh,</p> +<p class="i6">When Fable first the ancient title wins.</p> +<p class="i6">The world will kindle upon Freya's breast,</p> +<p class="i6">And every longing in its longing rest."</p> +</div> +<p class="normal">The King embraced his daughter with tenderness. The spirits of +the +stars surrounded the throne, and the hero took his place in the order. +A numerous crowd of stars filled the hall in splendid groups. The +attendants brought a table and a little casket, containing a heap of +leaves, upon which were inscribed mystic figures of deep significance, +constructed of constellations. The king reverently kissed these leaves, +mixed them carefully together, and handed some to his daughter; the +rest he kept. The princess placed them in a row upon the table; then +the king closely examined his own, and chose with much reflection +before he added one to them. At times he seemed forced to choose this +or that leaf. But often his joy was evident, when he could complete by +a lucky leaf a beautiful harmony of signs and figures. As the play +commenced, tokens of the liveliest sympathy were visible among all the +by-standers, accompanied by peculiar looks and gestures, as if each one +had an invisible instrument in his hands which he plied diligently. At +the same time a gentle but deeply moving music was heard in the air, +seeming to arise from the stars gliding past each other in a wondrous +motion, and from the other movements so peculiar. The stars floated +round, now slowly, now quickly, in continually changing lines, and +curiously imitated, to the swell of the music, the figures on the +leaves. The music changed incessantly with the images upon the table; +and though the transitions were often strange and intricate, yet a +simple theme seemed to unite the whole. With incredible adroitness the +stars flew together according to the images. Now in great confusion, +but now again beautifully arranged in single clusters, and now the long +train was suddenly scattered, like a ray, into innumerable sparks, but +soon came together, through smaller circles and patterns ever +increasing, into one great figure of surprising beauty. The varied +shapes in the windows remained all this time at rest. The bird +unceasingly ruffled its costly plumage in every variety of form. +Hitherto the old hero had also pursued an unseen occupation, when +suddenly the king full of joy exclaimed, "all is well. Iron, throw thy +sword into the world, that it may know where peace rests."</p> + +<p class="normal">The hero snatched the sword from his thigh, raised it with the +point to +heaven, and hurled it from the window over the city and the icy sea. It +flew through the air like a comet, and seemed to penetrate the mountain +chain with a clear report, as it fell downward in brilliant flakes of +fire.</p> + +<p class="normal">At this time the beautiful child Eros lay in his cradle and +slumbered +gently, whilst Ginnistan his nurse rocked him, and held out her breast +to his foster-sister Fable. She had spread her variegated wimple over +the cradle, so that the bright lamp which stood before the scribe might +not trouble the child. Busily he wrote, at times looking morosely at +the children, and gloomily towards the nurse, who smiled upon him +kindly and kept silence.</p> + +<p class="normal">The father of the children walked in and out continually, at +each turn +gazing upon them, and greeting Ginnistan kindly. He always had +something to dictate to the scribe. The latter observed his words +exactly, and when he had written, handed them to an aged and venerable +woman, who was leaning on an altar, where stood a dark bowl of clear +water, into which she looked with serene smiles. When she dipped the +leaves in the water, and found on withdrawing them, that some of the +writing remained still glittering, she gave them to the scribe, who +fastened them in a great book, and seemed much out of humor when his +labor had been in vain, and all the writing had been obliterated. The +woman turned at times towards Ginnistan and the children, and dipping +her finger in the bowl, sprinkled some drops upon them, which, as soon +as they touched the nurse, the child, or the cradle, dissolved into a +blue vapor, exhibiting a thousand strange images, and floating and +changing constantly around them. If one of these by chance touched the +scribe, many figures and geometrical diagrams fell down, which he +strung with much diligence upon a thread, and hung them for an ornament +around his meagre neck. The child's mother, who was sweetness and +loveliness itself, often came in. She seemed to be constantly occupied, +always carrying with her some domestic utensil. If the prying scribe +observed it, he began a long reproof, of which no one took any notice. +All seemed accustomed to his fruitless fault-finding. The mother +sometimes gave the breast to little Fable, but was soon called away, +and Ginnistan took the child back again, for it seemed to love her +best. Suddenly the father brought in a small slender rod of iron, which +he had found in the court. The scribe looked at it, twirled it round +quickly, and soon discovered, that being suspended from the middle by a +thread, it turned of itself to the north. Ginnistan also took it in her +hand, bent it, pressed it, breathed upon it, and soon gave it the form +of a serpent biting, its own tail. The scribe was soon weary of looking +at it. He wrote down everything that had occurred, and was very diffuse +about the utility of such a discovery. But how vexed was he when all he +had written did not stand the proof, and when the paper came blank from +the bowl. The nurse continued to play with it. She chanced to touch +with it the cradle; the child awoke, threw off his covering, and +holding one hand towards the light, reached after the serpent with the +other. As soon as he received it, he leaped so quickly from the cradle +that Ginnistan was frightened, and the scribe fell nearly out of his +chair from wonder; the child stood in the chamber, covered only by his +long golden hair, and gazed with speechless joy upon the prize, which +pointed in his hands, towards the North, and seemed to awake within him +deep emotion. He grew visibly.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Sophia," said he with a touching voice to the woman, "let me +drink +from the bowl."</p> + +<p class="normal">She gave it him without delay, and he could not cease +drinking; yet the +bowl continued full. At last he returned it, while embracing the good +woman heartily. He pressed Ginnistan to his heart, and asked her for +the variegated cloth, which he bound becomingly around his thigh. He +took little Fable in his arms. She appeared greatly to delight in him, +and began to prattle. Ginnistan devoted all her attention to him. She +looked exceedingly charming and gay, and pressed him to herself with +the tenderness of a bride. She led him with whispered words to the +chamber door, but Sophia nodded earnestly and pointed to the serpent. +Just then the mother entered, to whom he immediately flew, and with +warm tears welcomed her. The scribe had departed in anger. The father +entered: and as he saw mother and son in silent embrace, he approached +the charming Ginnistan behind them and caressed her. Sophia ascended +the stairs. Little Fable took the scribe's pen and began to write. +Mother and son were deeply engaged in conversation. The father availed +himself of the opportunity, and lavished many a tender word and look +upon Ginnistan, who returned them willingly; and in their sweet +interchange of love, both the presence or absence of any was forgotten. +After some time Sophia returned, and the scribe entered. He drove +little Fable with many rebukes from his seat, and took a long time to +put his things in order. He handed to Sophia the leaves that Fable had +written over, that they might be returned clean; but his displeasure +was extreme, when Sophia drew the writing brilliant and uneffaced from +the bowl, and laid it before him. Fable clang to her mother, who took +her to her breast, and put the chamber in order, opened the windows for +the fresh air, and made preparations for a costly meal. A beautiful +landscape was visible from the windows, and a serene sky overarched the +earth. The father was busily employed in the court. When he was weary, +he looked up towards the window, where Ginnistan stood and threw to him +all sorts of sweetmeats. Mother and son went out in order to assist in +any manner, and to prepare for the resolution they had taken. The +scribe twitched his pen, and always made a wry face, when he was forced +to ask any information of Ginnistan, who had a good memory and +recollected everything that transpired. Eros soon returned, clad in +beautiful armor, round which the varigated cloth was wound like a +scarf. He asked Sophia's advice as to when and how he should commence +his journey. The scribe was very troublesome, and wanted to furnish him +with a complete traveller's guide, but his instructions were not +regarded.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You can commence your journey immediately," said Sophia, +"Ginnistan +can guide you. She knows the road and is acquainted everywhere. She +will take the form of your mother, that she may not lead you into +temptation. If you find the king, think of me; for then I shall soon +come to assist you."</p> + +<p class="normal">Ginnistan exchanged forms with the mother, whereat the father +seemed +much pleased. The scribe was rejoiced that they were both going away; +particularly when Ginnistan on taking leave presented him with a +pocket-book, in which the chronicles of the house were circumstantially +recorded. Yet the little Fable remained a thorn in his eye, and he +desired nothing more for his peace and content, than that she might +also be among the number of the travellers. Sophia pronounced a +blessing upon the two who knelt down before her, and gave them a vessel +full of water from the bowl. The mother was very sad. Little Fable, +would willingly have gone with them; the father was too much occupied +out of doors, to concern himself much about it. It was night when they +left, and the moon stood high in the sky.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Dear Eros," said Ginnistan, "we must hasten, that we may come +to my +father, who has not seen me for a long time, and has fought for me +anxiously everywhere upon earth. Do you not see his emaciated face? +Your testimony will cause him to recognise me in this strange form."</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Love hies along in dusky ways,</p> +<p class="i6">The moon his only light;</p> +<p class="i6">The shadow-realm itself displays,</p> +<p class="i6">And all uncouthly dight.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">An azure mist with golden rim</p> +<p class="i6">Around him floats in play,</p> +<p class="i6">And quickly Fancy hurries him</p> +<p class="i6">O'er stream and land away.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">His teeming bosom beating is</p> +<p class="i6">In wondrous spirit-flow;</p> +<p class="i6">A presagement of future bliss</p> +<p class="i6">Bespeaks the ardent glow.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">And Longing sat and wept aloud,</p> +<p class="i6">Nor knew that Love was near;</p> +<p class="i6">And deeper in her visage ploughed</p> +<p class="i6">The hopeless sorrow's tear.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">The little snake remaineth true,</p> +<p class="i6">It pointeth to the North,</p> +<p class="i6">And both in trust and courage new</p> +<p class="i6">Their leader follow forth.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Love hieth through the hot Simoon,</p> +<p class="i6">And through the vapor-land,</p> +<p class="i6">Enters the halo of the moon,</p> +<p class="i6">The daughter in his hand.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">He sat upon his silver throne,</p> +<p class="i6">Alone with his unrest;</p> +<p class="i6">When heareth he his daughter's tone,</p> +<p class="i6">And sinketh on her breast.</p> +</div></div> +<p class="normal">Eros stood deeply moved by their tender embrace. At length the +tottering old man collected himself and bade his guest welcome. He +seized his great horn and blew a mighty blast. The ringing echo +vibrated through the ancient castle. The pointed towers with their +shining balls, and the deep black roofs, trembled.</p> + +<p class="normal">The castle stood firm, for it had settled upon the mountain +from beyond +the deep sea.</p> + +<p class="normal">Servants were gathering from every quarter; their peculiar +forms and +dresses delighted Ginnistan infinitely, and did not frighten the brave +Eros. They first greeted her old acquaintances, and all appeared before +them in new strength, and in all the glory of their natures. The +impetuous spirit of the flood followed the gentle ebb. The old +hurricanes rested upon the beating breast of the hot, passionate +earthquake. The gentle showers looked around for the many-colored bow +which stood so pallid, far from the sun that most attracts it. The rude +thunder resounded through the play of the lightning, behind the +innumerable clouds which stood in a thousand charms, and allured the +fiery youth. The two sisters Morning and Evening were especially +delighted by their arrival. Tears of tenderness were mingled in their +embraces. Indescribable was the appearance of this wonderful court. The +old king could not gaze long enough upon his daughter. She was tenfold +happy in her father's castle, and could not grow weary of looking at +the well known wonders and rarities. Her joy was unspeakable, when the +king gave her the key to the treasure-chamber, and permission to +arrange there a spectacle for Eros, which could entertain him until the +signal for breaking up. The treasure-place was a large garden, the +variety and richness of which surpassed all description. Between the +immense cloud-trees lay innumerable air-castles of surprising +architecture, each succeeding one more costly than the others. Large +herds of little sheep with silver-white, golden, and rose-colored wool, +were wandering about, and the most singular animals enlivened the +grove. Remarkable pictures stood here and there, and the festive +processions, the strange carriages which met the eye on every side, +continually occupied the attention. The beds were filled with +many-colored flowers. The buildings were crowded with every species of +weapon, and furnished with the most beautiful carpets, tapestry, +curtains, drinking-cups, and all kinds of furniture and utensils +arranged in an endless order. From the hill they saw a romantic region +overspread with cities and castles, temples and sepulchres; every +delight of inhabited plains united to the fertile charms of the +wilderness and the mountain steep. The fairest colors were most happily +blended. The mountain peaks shone like pyramids of fire in their hoods +of ice and snow. The plain lay smiling in the freshest green. The +distance was arrayed in every shade of blue, and from the sombre bosom +of the sea waved countless pennons of varied hue from numerous fleets. +In the distance a shipwreck was to be seen; here in the foreground a +rustic cheerful meal of country people; there the terribly grand +eruption of a volcano, the desolating earthquake; and in front beneath +shady trees a loving couple in sweet caresses. Further on was a fearful +battle, and beyond it a theatre full of the most ludicrous masks. In +another spot of the foreground was a youthful corpse upon its bier, to +which an inconsolable lover clung, and the weeping parents at its side; +beyond was seen a lovely mother with her child at her breast, and +angels sitting at her feet, and gazing from the branches over head. The +series were continually shifting, and at last all flowed together into +one mysterious picture. Heaven and earth were in complete uproar. All +terrors had broken loose. A mighty voice cried, "to arms!" A terrible +host of skeletons, with black standards, rushed like a tempest from the +dark mountain, and attacked the life which was feasting merrily in +youthful bands among the open plains, anticipating no danger. Terrible +tumults arose, the earth trembled, the tempest howled, fearful meteors +lighted the gloom. With unheard of cruelty, the host of phantoms tore +the tender limbs of the living. A funeral pyre towered on high, and +amid shrieks which made the blood run cold, the children of life were +consumed by the flames. Suddenly a milk-blue stream broke on all sides +from the dark heap of ashes. The phantoms hastened to fly, but the +flood visibly swelled and swallowed up the detestable brood. Soon all +fear was allayed. Heaven and earth flowed together in sweet music. A +flower, wonderful in beauty, floated glittering upon the gentle +billows. A shining bow half circled the flood, and on both sides of it +sat celestial shapes on splendid thrones. Sophia sat highest with the +bowl in her hands, near a majestic man, whose locks were bound by a +garland of oak leaves, and who bore in his right hand a palm of peace +instead of a sceptre. A lily leaf bent over the chalice of the floating +flower. The little Fable sat upon it, and sang to the harp the sweetest +song. In the chalice sat Eros himself, bending over a beautiful, +slumbering maiden who held him fast embraced. A smaller blossom closed +around them both, so that from the thighs they seemed changed to a +flower.</p> + +<p class="normal">Eros thanked Ginnistan with thousand fold rapture. He embraced +her +tenderly, and she returned his caresses. Wearied by the fatigues of the +journey, and by the manifold objects he had seen, he longed for quiet +and rest. Ginnistan, who felt deeply attracted by the beautiful youth, +took good care not to mention the draught which Sophia had given him. +She led him to a retired bath, and removed his armor. Eros dipped +himself in the dangerous waves, and came out again in rapture. +Ginnistan chafed dry his strong limbs knit with youthful vigor. He +thought with ardent longing of his beloved, and embraced the charming +Ginnistan in sweet delusion. He surrendered himself carelessly to his +tenderness, and fell asleep on the fair bosom of his guide.</p> + +<p class="normal">In the mean time a sad change had taken place at home. The +scribe had +involved the domestics in a dangerous conspiracy. His fiendish mind had +long sought occasion to obtain possession of the government of the +house, and to shake off his yoke. Such an occasion he had found. His +party first seized the mother and put her in irons. The father also was +deprived of everything but bread and water. The little Fable heard the +noise in the chamber. She hid herself behind the altar; and observing +that there was a concealed door on its farther side, she opened it +quickly, and discovered a staircase leading from it. She closed the +door behind her, and descended the stairs in the dark. The scribe +rushed furiously into the chamber, in order to revenge himself on the +little Fable, and to take Sophia captive. Neither of them was to be +found. The bowl was also missing, and in his wrath he broke the altar +into a thousand pieces, without, however, discovering the secret +staircase.</p> + +<p class="normal">Fable continued to descend for a considerable time. At length +she +reached an open space adorned with splendid colonnades, and closed by a +great door. All objects there were dark. The air was like one immense +shadow; and a darkly beaming body stood in the sky. One could easily +distinguish objects, because each figure exhibited a peculiar shade of +black, and cast behind a pale glimmer; light and shade seemed to have +changed their respective offices. Fable rejoiced to find herself in a +new world. She regarded everything with childish curiosity. At length +she reached the door, before which upon a massive pedestal reclined a +beautiful Sphinx.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What dost thou seek?" said the Sphinx.</p> + +<p class="normal">"My possession," replied Fable.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Whence comest thou hither?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"From olden times."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Thou art yet a child."</p> + +<p class="normal">"And will be a child forever."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Who wilt assist thee?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I will assist myself. Where are my sisters?" asked Fable.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Everywhere, and yet nowhere," answered the Sphinx.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Dost thou know me?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Not as yet."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Where is Love?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"In the imagination."</p> + +<p class="normal">"And Sophia?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Sphinx murmured inaudibly to itself, and rustled its +wings.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Sophia and Love!" cried Fable triumphantly, and passed the +door. She +stepped into an immense cave, and joyfully reached the aged sisters, +who were pursuing their wonderful occupation, by the poor light of a +dimly burning lamp. They seemed not to notice their little guest, who +busily hovered around them with artless caresses. At last one of them +with a crabbed face roughly rebuked her.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What wouldst thou here, idler? Who has admitted thee? Thy +childish +steps disturb the quiet flame. The oil is burning to waste. Canst thou +not be seated, and occupy thyself usefully?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Beautiful aunt," said Fable, "I am no idler. But I cannot +help +laughing at your door-keeper. She would have taken me to her breast; +but seemed to have eaten too much to rise. Let me sit before the door, +and give me something to spin. I cannot see well here; and when I am +spinning I must be suffered to sing and talk, which might disturb your +serious cogitations."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Thou shalt not go outside; but through a cleft of the rock a +beam from +the upper world pierces into a side-chamber, there thou mayest spin if +thou knowest how. Here lie great heaps of old ends, spin them together. +But have a care; for if thou spin lazily or break the threads, they +will wind round and choke thee."</p> + +<p class="normal">The old woman laughed maliciously and resumed her labor. Fable +gathered +up an armful of the threads, took distaff and spindle, and tripped +singing into the chamber. She looked out through the cleft, and saw the +constellation of Phoenix. Rejoicing at the happy omen, she began to +spin industriously, leaving the chamber door ajar, and sang in subdued +tones:--</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Within your cells awaken,</p> +<p class="i6">Children of olden time;</p> +<p class="i6">Be every bed forsaken,</p> +<p class="i6">The morn begins to climb.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Your threadlets I am weaving</p> +<p class="i6">Into a single thread:</p> +<p class="i6">In <i>one</i> life be ye cleaving,--</p> +<p class="i6">The times of strife are sped.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Each one in all is living,</p> +<p class="i6">And all in each beside;</p> +<p class="i6"><i>One</i> heart its pulses giving.</p> +<p class="i6">From <i>one</i> impelling tide.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Yet spirits only are ye.</p> +<p class="i6">But dream and witchery.</p> +<p class="i6">Into the cavern fare ye,</p> +<p class="i6">And vex the holy Three.</p> +</div></div> +<p class="normal">The spindle turned with incredible velocity between her little +feet, +while she twisted the thread with both her hands. During the song, +innumerable little lights became visible, which passed through the +chink of the door, and spread through the cave in hideous masks. The +elders continued spinning gloomily, and in expectation of the cries of +distress of little Fable. But how terrified were they when a horrible +nose appeared over their shoulders, and when upon looking around they +beheld the whole cave filled with fearful forms, engaged in a thousand +fantastic tricks. They shrunk together, howled with frightful voices, +and would have turned to stone through fear, had not the scribe entered +the cave bearing with him a mandrake root. The lights concealed +themselves in the rocky cleft, and the cave became entirely +illuminated, while the black lamp was extinguished, having been +overturned in the confusion. The old hags were glad when they heard the +scribe approaching; but were full of wrath against the little Fable. +They called her forth, rebuked her terribly, and forbade her spinning +longer. The scribe smiled grimly; because he supposed that now the +little Fable was in his power, and said,</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is good that thou art here, and art kept employed. I hope +that thou +receivest thy share of punishment. Thy good spirit has guided me +hither. I wish thee a long life and many pleasures."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I thank thee for thy good will," said Fable; "lo, what a good +age is +approaching thee. The hourglass and sickle only are wanting to make +thee like in looks to the brother of my beautiful aunts. If thou +needest quills, only pluck a handful of soft down from their cheeks."</p> + +<p class="normal">The scribe threatened to attack her. She smiled and said,</p> + +<p class="normal">"If thy beautiful locks and spiritual eyes are dear to thee, +beware! +think of my nails, thou hast not much more to loose."</p> + +<p class="normal">He turned with stifled rage towards the old women, who were +rubbing +their eyes, and searching for their distaffs. They could not find them +because the lamp was extinguished; but they vented their rage against +Fable.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Do let her go," said he spitefully, "that she may catch +tarantulas to +prepare your oil. I will tell you for your consolation that Eros is +restlessly on the wing, and by his industry will keep your scissors +busy. His mother, who has so often compelled you to spin the lengthened +threads, will become a prey to the flames to-morrow."</p> + +<p class="normal">He laughed with joy, when he saw that Fable wept at this news, +and +giving a piece of the root to the old people, departed chuckling. The +sisters, though supplied with oil, angrily ordered Fable to go in +search of tarantulas, and Fable hastened away. She pretended to open +the door, slammed it noisily, and crept stealthily to the back of the +cave, where a ladder was hanging down. She ascended quickly, and soon +came to an aperture, which opened into the apartment of Arcturus.</p> + +<p class="normal">The king sat surrounded by his counsellors when Fable +appeared. The +Northern Crown adorned his head. He held the lily in his left hand, the +balance in his right. The eagle and the lion sat at his feet.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Monarch," said Fable, bending reverently before him, "Hail to +thine +eternal throne! Joyful news for thy wounded heart! An early return of +wisdom! Awakening to eternal peace! Rest to the restless love! +Glorification of the heart! Life to antiquity and form to the future!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The king touched her open forehead with the lily, "Whatever +thou +demandest shall be granted thee."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Three times shall I petition, and when I come the fourth +time, Love will be before the door. Now give me the lyre."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Eridanus," cried the king, "bring the lyre hither."</p> + +<p class="normal">Eridanus streamed forth murmuring from his concealment, and +Fable +snatched the lyre from his boiling flood.</p> + +<p class="normal">Fable played a few prophetic strains. She sipped from the cup +which the +king ordered to be handed her, and hastened away with many thanks. She +glided with a sweet, elastic motion over the icy sea, drawing joyful +music from the strings.</p> + +<p class="normal">The ice resounded melodiously beneath her step. She fancied +the voices +of the rocks of sorrow were the voices of her children seeking her, and +she answered in a thousand echoes.</p> + +<p class="normal">Fable soon reached the shore. She met her mother who appeared +wasted +and pale; she had grown thin and sad, and her noble features revealed +the traces of a hopeless sorrow and of touching constancy.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What has happened to thee, dear mother?" asked Fable; "thou +seemest to +me entirely changed; I should not know thee except by internal signs. I +hoped once more to refresh myself at thy breast; I have pined after +thee for a long time."</p> + +<p class="normal">Ginnistan caressed her tenderly, and became calm and serene.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I thought from the first," said she, "that the scribe would +not take +thee captive. It refreshes me to see thee. Poor and pinched are my +affairs now; but I console myself with hoping that it will soon end. +Perhaps I am about to have a moment of rest. Eros is near; and when he +sees thee and thou speakest with him, he may tarry some time. In the +mean time come to my bosom. I will give thee what I have."</p> + +<p class="normal">She took Fable upon her lap, proffered her breast, and while +smiling +upon the little one who was enjoying her feast, continued, "I am myself +the cause that Eros has become so wild and inconstant. But yet I repent +it not, for those hours have made me immortal. I believe that his fiery +caresses have strangely transformed him. Long, silver-white wings +covered his glittering shoulders, and the charming fulness of his form. +The strength, which swelling forth had so suddenly changed him from a +youth to a man, seemed entirely to have withdrawn into his wings, and +he had become again a boy. The silent glow of his face became like the +dazzling fire of a will-o'-the-wisp, his holy seriousness had changed +to dissembled roguishness, the significant calm to childish +irresolution, the noble carriage to a droll agility. I felt +irresistibly attracted to the wanton boy by an ardent passion, and +suffered with pain his sneering scorn, and his indifference to my most +touching prayers. I perceived that my form was changed. My careless +serenity had fled, and its place filled with sorrowful anxiety and +shrinking timidity. I would have hidden myself with Eros from all eyes. +I had not the heart to meet his offending eye, and was overwhelmed with +shame and humility. I had no thoughts but for him; and would have given +my life to free him from his wantonness. Deeply as he had hurt my +feelings, I was compelled to worship him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Since the time when he discovered himself and escaped me, I +have +continually been in pursuit of him, though I have conjured him +touchingly and with hot tears to remain with me. He seems really intent +on persecuting me. As often as I reach him, he flies away again. On +every side his bow deals destruction. I have nought to do but to +console the unhappy, and yet I myself need consolation. The voices of +those who call me point out to me his path, and their mournful +complaints, when I am compelled to leave them, deeply cut my heart. The +scribe pursues us in a terrible rage, and revenges himself upon the +poor wounded ones. The fruit of that mysterious night was a multitude +of strange children, who look like their grandfather, and are named +after him. Being winged like their father, they ever accompany him, to +torment the poor ones whom his arrow wounds. But there comes the +joyous procession. I must away. Farewell, sweet child. His presence +excites my passion. Be happy in thy designs."</p> + +<p class="normal">Eros passed on without Ginnistan, who hastened near him, +beseeching but +one look of tenderness. But he turned kindly towards Fable, and his +little companions danced joyously around her. Fable was glad to see her +foster-brother again, and sang a merry song to her lyre. Eros seemed as +if desiring to recall some recollections of the past, and let fall his +bow upon the ground. Ginnistan could now embrace him, and he suffered +her tender caresses. At last Eros began to nod; he clung to Ginnistan's +bosom and fell asleep, spreading over her his wings. The weary +Ginnistan full of rejoicing turned not her eye from the graceful +sleeper. During the song, tarantulas came forth from all sides, which +drew a shining net over the blades of grass, and with sprightly +movements accompanied the music upon the threads. Fable now consoled +her mother, and promised to her speedy assistance. From the rocks fell +back the soft echo of the music, and lulled the sleeper. From the +carefully preserved vessel Ginnistan sprinkled some drops into the air, +and the most delightful dreams descended upon them. Fable took the +vessel and continued her journey. Her strings never were at rest, and +the tarantulas followed the enchanting sounds upon their fast-woven +threads.</p> + +<p class="normal">She soon saw from afar the lofty flame of a funeral pile, +which rose +high above the green forest. Mournfully she gazed towards heaven; yet +rejoiced when she saw Sophia's blue veil which was waving over the +earth, forever covering the unsightly tomb. The sun stood in heaven, +fiery-red with rage. The powerful flame imbibed its stolen light; and +the more fiercely the sun strove to preserve itself, ever more pale and +spotted it became. The flame grew whiter and more intense, as the sun +faded. It attracted the light more and more strongly; the glory around +the star of day was soon consumed, and it stood there a pale, +glimmering disk, every new agitation of spite and rage aiding the +escape of the flying light-waves. Finally, nought of the sun remained +but a black, exhausted dross, which fell into the sea. The splendor of +the flame was beyond description. It slowly ascended, and bore towards +the North. Fable entered the court, which was desolate; the house had +fallen. Briars were growing in the crevices of the window frames, and +vermin of every kind were creeping about on the broken staircase. She +heard a terrible noise in the chamber; the scribe and his associates +had been devoting her mother to the flames, but had been greatly +terrified by the sudden destruction of the sun.</p> + +<p class="normal">They had in vain struggled to extinguish the flame, and had +not escaped +unhurt. They vented their pain and anxiety in fearful curses and +wailings. But more terrified were they, when Fable entered the chamber, +and rushed upon them with a furious cry, letting her anger loose upon +them. She stepped behind the cradle, and her pursuers rushed madly into +the web of the tarantulas, which revenged themselves by a thousand +wounds. The whole crowd commenced a frantic dance, to which Fable +played a merry tune. With much laughter at their ludicrous +performances, she approached the fragments of the altar, and cleared +them away, in order to find the hidden staircase, which she descended +with her train of tarantulas.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Sphinx asked, "what comes more suddenly than the +lightning?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Revenge," said Fable.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What is most transient?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Wrongful possession."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Who knows the world?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"He who knows himself."</p> + +<p class="normal">"What is the eternal mystery?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Love."</p> + +<p class="normal">"With whom does it rest?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"With Sophia."</p> + +<p class="normal">The Sphinx bowed herself mournfully, and Fable entered the +cave.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Here I bring you tarantulas," said she to the old sisters, +who again +had lighted their lamp and were busily employed. They were overwhelmed +with fear, and one of them rushed upon her with the shears to murder +her. Unwarily she stepped upon a tarantula, which stung her in the +foot. She cried piteously; the others came to her assistance, and were +likewise stung by the irritated reptiles. They could not now attack +Fable, and danced wildly about.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Spin directly for us," cried they angrily to the little one, +"some +light dancing dresses. We cannot move in this stiff raiment, and are +nearly melted with heat. Thou must soak the thread in spider's juice +that it may not break, and interweave flowers, which have grown in +fire; otherwise thou shalt die."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Right willingly," said Fable, and retired to the +side-chamber.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I will get you three fine large flies," said she to the +spiders, which +had fixed their airy web about the ceiling and the walls; "but you must +spin for me immediately three beautiful light dresses. I will bring you +directly the flowers which must be worked upon them."</p> + +<p class="normal">The spiders were ready and began to weave busily. Fable glided +up the +ladder, and proceeded to Arcturus.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Monarch," said she, "the wicked dance, the good rest. Has the +flame +arrived?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It has come," said the King. "Night is passed and the ice +melts. My +spouse appears in the distance. My enemy is overwhelmed. All things +begin to exist. As yet I do not dare to show myself, for I am not alone +King. Ask what thou wilt."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I need," said Fable, "some flowers that have grown in fire. I +know +thou hast a skilful gardener, who understands rearing them."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Zinc," cried the King, "give us flowers."</p> + +<p class="normal">The flower gardener stepped from the ranks, bringing at vessel +full of +fire, and sowed shining seeds therein. Soon flowers sprang up. Fable +gathered them in her apron, and returned. The spiders had been +industrious, and nothing more was needed but to attach the flowers, +which they immediately began to do with much taste and skill. Fable +took good care not to pull off the ends which were yet hanging to the +weavers.</p> + +<p class="normal">She carried the dresses to the wearied dancers, who had sunk +down +dripping with perspiration, and were taking a moment's breath after +their unwonted exertions. She dextrously undressed the haggard +beauties, who were not backward in scolding their little servant, and +put on the new dresses, which fitted excellently. While thus employed, +she praised the charms and lovely character of her mistresses, who +seemed really pleased with her flatteries, and the splendor of their +new appearance. Having in the mean time rested themselves, they +recommenced their mazy whirl, whilst they deceitfully promised little +Fable a long life and great rewards. Fable returned to the chamber, and +said to the spiders, "you can now eat in peace the flies which I have +brought to your web."</p> + +<p class="normal">The spiders were soon impatient at being pulled back and forth +by the +distracted movements of the dancers, for the ends of the threads were +still in them. They therefore ran out and attacked the dancers, who +would have defended themselves with the shears, had not Fable quietly +removed them. They therefore submitted to their hungry companions; who +for a long time had not tasted so rich a feast, and who sucked them to +the marrow. Fable looked out from the cleft in the rock, and saw +Perseus with his great shield of iron. The shears flew to it, and Fable +asked him to trim with them the wings of Eros, and then with his shield +to immortalize the sisters, and finish the great work.</p> + +<p class="normal">She now left the subterraneous kingdom, and flew rejoicing to +Arcturus's palace.</p> + +<p class="normal">"The flax is spun. The lifeless are again unsouled. The living +will +govern, the dead will shape and use. The Inmost is revealed, and the +Outermost is hidden. The curtain will soon be lifted, and the play +commence. Once more I petition thee; then will I spin days of +eternity."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Happy child," cried the monarch with emotion, "thou art our +deliverer."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I am only Sophia's god-daughter," said the little one. +"Permit +Turmaline, the flower gardener, and Gold to accompany me. I must gather +up the ashes of my foster-mother; the old Bearer must again arise, that +the earth may not lie in chaos, but renew her motion."</p> + +<p class="normal">The king called all three, and commanded them to accompany the +little +Fable. The city was light, and in the streets was the bustle of +business. The sea broke roaring upon the high cliff, and Fable went +over in the king's chariot with her companions. Turmaline carefully +gathered the dispersing ashes. They traversed the earth till they came +to the old giant, upon whose shoulders they descended. He seemed lamed +by the touch, and could not move a limb. Gold placed a coin in his +mouth, and the flower-gardener pushed a dish under his loins. Fable +touched his eyes and poured out her vessel upon his forehead. Soon as +the water flowed from his eyes into his mouth, and over his body into +the dish, a flash of life made all his muscles quiver. He opened his +eyes and rose vigorously. Fable jumped up to her companion on the +swelling ground, and kindly bade him good morning.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Art thou again here, dear child?" said the old man, "thou of +whom I +have so continually dreamed? I always thought that thou wouldst appear +before the earth and my eyes became too heavy. I have indeed been +sleeping long."</p> + +<p class="normal">"The earth is again light, as it always was for the good," +said Fable. +"Old times are returning. Shortly thou wilt again be among thine old +acquaintances. I will spin out for thee joyous days, nor shalt thou +want an help-meet. Where are our old guests, the Hesperides?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"With Sophia. Their garden will soon bloom again, its golden +fruits +send forth their odor. They are now busy gathering together the fading +plants."</p> + +<p class="normal">Fable departed, and hastened to the house. It was entirely in +ruins. +Ivy was winding round the walls. Tall bushes shaded the ancient court, +and the soft moss enwrapt the old steps. She entered the chamber. +Sophia stood by the altar which had been rebuilt. Eros was lying at her +feet in full armor, more grave and noble than ever. A splendid lustre +hung from the ceiling. The floor was paved with variegated stones, +describing a great circle around the altar, which was graced with noble +and significant figures. Ginnistan bent weeping over a couch, on which +the father appeared lying in deep slumber. Her blooming grace was +infinitely enhanced by an expression of devotion and love. Fable handed +to the holy Sophia, who tenderly embraced her, the urn in which the +ashes were gathered.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Lovely child," said she, "thy faithfulness and assiduity have +earned +for thee a place among the stars. Thou hast elected the immortal within +thee. PhÅ“nix is thine. Thou wilt be the soul of our life. Now arouse +the bridegroom. The herald calls, and Eros shall seek and awaken +Freya."</p> + +<p class="normal">Fable rejoiced unspeakably at these words. She called her +companions +Gold and Zinc, and approached the couch. Ginnistan awaited full of +expectation the issue of her enterprise. Gold melted coin, and filled +with a glittering flood the space in which the father was lying. Zinc +wound a chain around Ginnistan's bosom. The body floated upon the +trembling waves. "Bow thyself, dear mother," said Fable, "and lay thy +hand upon the heart of thy beloved."</p> + +<p class="normal">Ginnistan bowed. She saw her image many times reflected. The +chain +touched the flood, her hand his heart; he awoke and drew the enraptured +bride to his bosom. The metal became a clear and liquid mirror. The +father arose; his eyes flashed lightning; and though his shape was +speakingly beautiful, yet his whole frame appeared a highly susceptible +fluid, which betrayed every affection in manifold and enchanting +undulations.</p> + +<p class="normal">The happy pair approached Sophia, who pronounced the words of +consecration upon them, and charged them faithfully to consult the +mirror, which reflected everything, in its real shape, destroyed every +delusion, and ever retained the primeval type of things. She now took +the urn, and shook the ashes into a bowl upon the altar. A soft +bubbling announced the dissolution, and a gentle wind waved the +garments and locks of the bystanders. Sophia handed the bowl to Eros, +who proffered it to the others. All tasted the divine draught, and +received with unspeakable joy the Mother's friendly greeting in their +soul of souls. She appeared to each one of them, and her mysterious +presence seemed to transfigure all.</p> + +<p class="normal">Their expectations were fulfilled and surpassed. All perceived +what +they had wanted, and the chamber became an abode of the blessed.</p> + +<p class="normal">Sophia said, "the great secret is revealed to all, and remains +forever +unfathomable. Out of pain is the new world born, and the ashes are +dissolved into tears for a draught of eternal life. The heavenly mother +dwells in all, that every child may be born immortal. Do you not feel +the sweet birth in the beating of your heart?"</p> + +<p class="normal">She poured from the bowl the remainder upon the altar. The +earth +trembled to its centre. Sophia said, "Eros, hasten with thy sister to +thy beloved. Soon shall ye see me again."</p> + +<p class="normal">Fable and Eros quickly departed with their train. Then was +scattered +over, the earth a mighty spring. Everything arose and stirred with +life. The earth floated farther beneath the veil. The moon and the +clouds were trailing with joyous tumult towards the North. The king's +castle beamed with a lordly splendor over the sea, and upon its +battlements stood the king in full majesty with all his suite. On every +side they saw dust-whirls, in which familiar shapes seemed represented. +Numerous bands of young men and maidens appeared hastening to the +castle, whom they welcomed with exaltation. Upon many a hill sat happy +couples but just awakened, in long-lost embraces; and they thought the +new world was a dream, nor could they cease assuring themselves of its +reality.</p> + +<p class="normal">Flowers and trees sprang up in verdant vigor. All things +seemed +inspired. All spoke and sang. Fable saluted on all sides her old +acquaintances. With friendly greeting animals approached awakened men. +The plants welcomed them with fruits and odor, and arrayed themselves +most tastefully. No weight lay longer on any human bosom, and all +burdens became the solid ground on which men trod. They came to the +sea. A ship of polished steel lay fastened to the shore. They stepped +aboard, and cast off the rope. The prow turned to the north, and the +ship cleaved the amorous waves as if on pinions, The sighing sedge +ceased its murmur, as it glides gently to the shore. They hastened up +the broad stairs. Love admired the royal city and its opulence. In the +court the living fountain was sparkling; the grove swayed to and fro in +sweetest tones, and a wondrous life seemed to gush and thrive in its +swelling foliage, its twinkling fruits and blossoms. The old hero +received them at the door of the palace.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Venerable man," said Fable, "Eros needs thy sword. Gold has +given him +a chain, one end of which reaches down to the sea, the other encircles +his breast. Take it in thy hand, and lead us to the hall where the +princess rests." Eros took the sword from the hand of the old man, +pressed the handle to his breast, and pointed the blade before him. The +folding doors of the hall flew open, and enraptured Eros approached the +slumbering Freya. Suddenly a mighty shock was felt. A bright spark sped +from the princess to the sword, the sword and the chain were illumined; +the hero supported the little Fable who was almost sinking. The crest +of Eros waved on high. "Throw away thy sword," exclaimed Fable, "and +awake thy beloved."</p> + +<p class="normal">Eros dropped the sword, flew to the princess and kissed her +sweet lips +vehemently. She opened her full, dark eyes, and recognised the loved +one. A long kiss sealed their eternal alliance.</p> + +<p class="normal">The king descended from the dome, hand in hand with Sophia. +The stars +and the spirits of nature followed in glittering ranks. A day +unspeakably serene filled the hall, the palace, the city, and the sky. +An innumerable multitude poured into the spacious, royal hall, and with +silent devotion saw the lovers kneel before the king and the queen, who +solemnly blessed them. The king took the diadem from his head, and +bound it round the golden locks of Eros, The old hero relieved him of +his armor, and the king threw his mantle around him. Then he gave him +the lily from his left hand, and Sophia fastened a costly bracelet +around the clasped hands of the lovers, and placed her crown upon the +brown locks of Freya.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hail to our ancient rulers!" exclaimed the people. "They have +always +dwelt among us, and we have not known them! All hail! They will ever +rule over us. Bless us also!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Sophia said to the new queen, "Throw the bracelet of your +alliance into +the air, that the people and world may remain devoted to you." The +bracelet dissolved in the air, and light halos were soon seen around +every head; and a shining band encircled city, sea, and earth, which +were celebrating an eternal Spring-festival. Perseus entered, bearing a +spindle and a little basket. He carried the latter to the new king.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Here," said he, "are the remains of thine enemies."</p> + +<p class="normal">A stone slab chequered with white and black squares lay in the +basket, +with a number of figures of alabaster and black marble.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is the game of chess," said Sophia; "all war is confined +to this +slab and to these figures. It is a memento of the olden, mournful +times."</p> + +<p class="normal">Perseus turned to Fable and gave her the spindle. "In thy +hands shall +this spindle make us eternally rejoice, and out of thyself shalt thou +spin an indissoluble, golden thread."</p> + +<p class="normal">Phoenix flew with melodious rustling to her feet, and spread +his wings +before her; she placed herself upon them, and hovered over the throne, +without again descending. She sang a heavenly song and began to spin, +whilst the thread seemed to wind forth from her breast. The people fell +into new raptures, and all eyes were fastened on the lovely child. New +shouts of exultation came from the door.</p> + +<p class="normal">The old Moon entered with her wonderful court, and behind her +the +people bore in triumph Ginnistan and her bridegroom. Garlands of +flowers were wound around them; The royal family received them with the +most hearty tenderness, and the new royal pair proclaimed them their +viceregents upon earth.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Grant me," said the Moon, "the Kingdom of the Fates, whose +wondrous +mansions have arisen from the earth, even in the court of the palace. I +will delight you therein with spectacles, in which the little Fable +will assist me."</p> + +<p class="normal">The king granted the prayer; the little Fable nodded +pleasantly, and +the people rejoiced at the novel and entertaining pastime. The +Hesperides congratulated them upon the new accession, and prayed that +their garden might be protected. The king gave them welcome; and so +followed joyful events in rapid succession. In the mean while, the +throne had imperceptibly changed to a splendid marriage-bed, over which +PhÅ“nix and the little Fable were hovering in the air. Three +Caryatides of dark porphyry supported the head, while its foot rested +upon a Sphinx of basalt. The king embraced his blushing bride. The +people followed his example, and kissed each other. Nothing was heard +but tender names and a noise of kisses.</p> + +<p class="normal">At length Sophia said, "The Mother is among us. Her presence +will +render us eternally happy. Follow us into our dwelling. In the temple +will we dwell forever, and treasure up the secret of the world."</p> + +<p class="normal">Fable spun diligently, and sang with a clear voice:</p> +<div class="poem"> +<p class="i6">Established is Eternity's domain,</p> +<p class="i6">In Love and Gladness melts the strifeful pain;</p> +<p class="i6">The tedious dream of grief returneth never;</p> +<p class="i6">Priestess of hearts Sophia is forever.</p> +</div> + +<h2>HENRY OF OFTERDINGEN.</h2> +<hr class="W20" /> +<h2>PART SECOND.</h2> +<h2>THE FULFILMENT.</h2> + +<h2>THE FULFILLMENT.</h2> + +<hr class="W20" /> + +<h2>THE CLOISTER, <span class="sc">OR</span> FORE-COURT.</h2> + +<h3>ASTRALIS.</h3> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Upon a summer morning was I young;</p> +<p class="i6">Then felt I for the first my own life-pulse,</p> +<p class="i6">And while in deeper raptures Love dissolved,</p> +<p class="i6">My sense of life unfolded; and my longing</p> +<p class="i6">For more entire and inward dissolution,</p> +<p class="i6">Was every moment more importunate.</p> +<p class="i6">My being's plastic power is delight;</p> +<p class="i6">I am the central point, the holy source,</p> +<p class="i6">Whence every longing stormfully outflows,</p> +<p class="i6">And where again, though broken and dispersed,</p> +<p class="i6">Each longing calmly mingles into one.</p> +<p class="i6">Ye know me not, ye saw me not becoming.--</p> +<p class="i6">Who witnessed me upon that happy eve,</p> +<p class="i6">When, a night-wanderer yet, I found at length</p> +<p class="i6">For the first time myself? Then flowed there not</p> +<p class="i6">A shudder of sweet rapture over you?</p> +<p class="i6">Entirely hid in honey-cups I lay;</p> +<p class="i6">I breathed a fragrance, calmly waved the flowers</p> +<p class="i6">In golden morning air. An inner gushing</p> +<p class="i6">Was I, a gentle striving, all things flowed</p> +<p class="i6">Through me and over me, and light I rose.</p> +<p class="i6">Then sank the first dust-seed within the shell,--</p> +<p class="i6">That glowing kiss when risen from the feast!</p> +<p class="i6">Backward I ebbed upon my inmost life--</p> +<p class="i6">It was a flash,--my powers already swell,</p> +<p class="i6">And move the tender petals and the bell,</p> +<p class="i6">And swiftly, from beneath my being's spring,</p> +<p class="i6">To earthly senses thoughts were blossoming.</p> +<p class="i6">Yet was I blind, but stars began to sweep</p> +<p class="i6">In light across my being's wondrous deep;</p> +<p class="i6">Myself I found as of a distant clime,</p> +<p class="i6">Echo of olden as of future time.</p> +<p class="i6">From sadness, love and hopefulness created,</p> +<p class="i6">The growth of memory was but a flight,</p> +<p class="i6">And mid the dashing billows of delight,</p> +<p class="i6">Then too the deepest sorrow penetrated.--</p> +<p class="i6">The world in bloom around the hillock clings,--</p> +<p class="i6">The Prophet's words were changed to double wings;</p> +<p class="i6">Matilde and Henry were alone united</p> +<p class="i6">Into one form, into one rapture plighted;</p> +<p class="i6">New-born I rose, to Heaven gladly leaping,</p> +<p class="i6">For then the earthly destinies were blent</p> +<p class="i6">In one bright moment of transfigurement;</p> +<p class="i6">And Time, no more his ancient title keeping,</p> +<p class="i6">Again demanded what it once had lent.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Forth breaks the new creation here,</p> +<p class="i6">Eclipsing the glow of the brightest sphere.</p> +<p class="i6">Behold through ruins ivy-streaming</p> +<p class="i6">A new and wondrous future gleaming,</p> +<p class="i6">And what was common hitherto,</p> +<p class="i6">Appeareth marvellous and new.</p> +<p class="i6">Love's realm beginneth to reveal,</p> +<p class="i6">And busy Fable plies her wheel.</p> +<p class="i6">To its olden play each nature returns,</p> +<p class="i6">And a mighty spell in each one burns;</p> +<p class="i6">And so the Soul of the world doth hover</p> +<p class="i6">And move through all, and bloom forever.</p> +<p class="i6">For each other all must strive,</p> +<p class="i6">One through the other must ripen and thrive;</p> +<p class="i6">Each is shadowed forth in all,</p> +<p class="i6">While itself with them is blending,</p> +<p class="i6">And eagerly into their deeps doth fall,</p> +<p class="i6">Its own peculiar essence mending,</p> +<p class="i6">And myriad thoughts to life doth call.</p> + +<p class="i6">The dream is World, the world is Dream,</p> +<p class="i6">And what already past may seem,</p> +<p class="i6">Itself is yet in distance moulding;</p> +<p class="i6">But Fancy first her court is holding,</p> +<p class="i6">Freely the threads at her pleasure weaving,</p> +<p class="i6">Much veiling here, much there unfolding,</p> +<p class="i6">And then in magical vapor leaving.</p> +<p class="i6">Life and death, rapture and sadness,</p> +<p class="i6">Are here in inmost sympathy,--</p> +<p class="i6">Who yieldeth himself to love's deep madness,</p> +<p class="i6">From its wounds is never free.</p> +<p class="i6">In pain must every bond be riven</p> +<p class="i6">That winds around the inner eye,</p> +<p class="i6">The orphaned heart with woe have striven,</p> +<p class="i6">Ere it the sullen world can fly.</p> +<p class="i6">The body melteth in its weeping,</p> +<p class="i6">Its bitter sighs the bosom burn;</p> +<p class="i6">The world a grave becometh, keeping</p> +<p class="i6">The heart, like ashes in an urn.</p> +</div></div> +<p class="normal">In deep thought a pilgrim was walking along a narrow foot-path +which +ran up the mountain side. Noon had passed. A strong wind whistled +through the blue air. Its dull and ever-changing sounds lost themselves +as they came. Had it perhaps flown through the regions of childhood, or +through other whispering lands? They were voices whose echo sounded in +his heart; yet the pilgrim did not appear to recognise them. He had now +reached the mountain where he hoped to find a limit to his journey. +Hoped? No longer did he cherish hope. Terrible anxiety, the sterile +coldness of indifferent despair, urged him to seek the wild horrors of +the mountains; the most toilsome path soothed the tumult of his soul. +He was weary and silent. He noticed not the gradual accumulation of +nature around him, as he sat upon a stone and cast his eye backward. It +seemed as if he were or had been dreaming. A splendor whose limit he +could not define opened before him. His cheeks were soon wet with +tears, as his feelings suddenly broke loose; he would have wept himself +away in the distance, that no trace of his existence might remain. Amid +his deep-drawn sighs he seemed to recover; the soft, serene air +penetrated him. The world was again present to his senses, and thoughts +of other times began to speak to him consolation.</p> + +<p class="normal">In the distance lay Augsburg with its towers; far on the +horizon +glimmered the mirror of the fearful, mysterious stream. The mighty +forest bowed with grave sympathy towards the wanderer; the notched +mountain rested meaningly upon the plain, and both seemed to say, +"Hasten on, O stream, thou dost not escape us. I will follow thee with +winged ships. I will break thee, restrain thee, and swallow thee up in +my bosom! O pilgrim, confide in us! Even he is our enemy whom we +ourselves begat; let him make haste with his booty, he escapes us not."</p> + +<p class="normal">The poor pilgrim thought of olden times and their unspeakable +delights; +but how heavily did those dear recollections pass through his mind. The +broad hat concealed a youthful face; it was pale as a night-flower. The +balmy sap of youthful life had changed to tears, his swelling breath to +deep sighs; an ashy paleness had usurped all color.</p> + +<p class="normal">On one side upon the declivity of the hill, he thought he saw +a monk +kneeling under an old oak tree. "Might not that possibly be the old +chaplain?" he conjectured, without much surprise at the idea. The monk +appeared larger and more unshapely the nearer he approached. He now +discovered his mistake. It was an isolated rock, over which a tree was +bending. With silent emotion he clasped the stone in his arms, and with +loud sobbing pressed it to his breast. "O that yet your speech was +preserved, and that the Holy Mother would give me some token! Am I then +entirely miserable and abandoned? Dwells there then in this desert no +holy one who would lend me his prayer? Dear father, at this time pray +thou for me!"</p> + +<p class="normal">As he so thought to himself, the tree began to wave; the rock +emitted a +hollow sounds and as from a great depth beneath the earth, clear, sweet +voices were heard singing:--</p> +<div class="poem"> +<p class="i6">Her heart was full of gladness,</p> +<p class="i6">For gladness knew she best;</p> +<p class="i6">She nothing knew of sadness,</p> +<p class="i6">With darling at her breast.</p> +<p class="i6">She showered him with kisses,</p> +<p class="i6">She kissed his cheek so warm,--</p> +<p class="i6">Encircled was with blisses</p> +<p class="i6">Through darling's fairy form.</p> +</div> +<p class="normal">The soft voices seemed to sing with infinite pleasure. They +repeated +the verse several times. All was quiet again, when the astonished +pilgrim heard some one speaking to him from the tree:--</p> + +<p class="normal">"If thou wilt play a song in honor of me upon thy lute, a +little maiden +will come for it; take her with thee and leave her not. Think of me +when thou comest to the emperor. I have chosen this abode, that I may +remain with my little child; let a strong, warm dwelling be built for +me here. My little one has conquered death; trouble not thyself, I am +with thee. Yet a while thou wilt remain upon earth, but the little girl +will console thee, until thou also diest and enterest into our joy."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is Matilda's voice!" exclaimed the pilgrim, and fell upon +his knees +in prayer. Then pierced through the branches a lengthened ray unto his +eyes, and through it in the distance he beheld a small but wonderful +splendor, not to be described, only to be depicted with a skilful +pencil. It was composed of extremely delicate figures; and the most +intense pleasure and joy, even a heavenly happiness, everywhere rayed +forth from it, so that even the inanimate vessels, the chiselled +capitals, the drapery, the ornaments, everything visible, seemed not so +much like works of art, as to have grown and sprung up together like +the full-juiced herb. Most beautiful human forms were passing to and +fro, and appeared kind and gracious to each other beyond measure. +Before all was standing the pilgrim's beloved one, and it seemed as if +she would have spoken to him; yet nothing could be heard, and the +pilgrim only regarded with ardent longing her pleasant features, as she +beckoned to him so kindly and smilingly, and laid her hand upon her +heart. The sight was infinitely consoling and refreshing, and the +pilgrim remained a long while steeped in holy rapture, until the vision +disappeared. The sacred beam had drawn up all pain and trouble from his +heart, so that his mind was again clear and cheerful, his spirit free +and buoyant as before. Nought remained but a silent, inward longing, +and a sound of sadness in the spirit's depths; but the wild torments of +solitude, the sharp anguish of unspeakable loss, the terrible sense of +a mournful void, had passed away with all earthly faintness, and the +pilgrim again looked forth upon a world teeming with expression. Voice +and language renewed their life within him, all things seemed more +known and prophetic than before, so that death appeared to him a high +revelation of life, and he viewed his own fleeting existence with +child-like and serene emotion. The future and the past had met within +him, and formed an eternal union. He stood far from the present, and +the world was now for the first time dear to him, when he had lost it, +and was there only as a stranger, who would yet wander but a while +through its diversified and spacious halls. It was now evening, and the +earth lay before him like an old beloved dwelling, which he had found +again after long absence. A thousand recollections recurred to him; +every stone, every tree, every hillock, made itself recognised. Each +was the memorial of a former history.</p> + +<p class="normal">The pilgrim snatched his lute, and sang:--</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Love's tears, love's glowing,</p> +<p class="i6">Together flowing,</p> +<p class="i6">Hallow every place for me,</p> +<p class="i6">Where Elysium quenched my longing,</p> +<p class="i6">And in countless prayers are thronging,</p> +<p class="i6">Like the bees around this tree.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Gladly is it o'er them bending,</p> +<p class="i6">Thither wending,</p> +<p class="i6">Them protecting from the storm;</p> +<p class="i6">Gratefully its leaves bedewing,</p> +<p class="i6">And its tender life renewing,</p> +<p class="i6">Wonders will the prayers perform.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">E'en the rugged rock is sunken,</p> +<p class="i6">Joy-drunken,</p> +<p class="i6">At the Holy Mother's feet.</p> +<p class="i6">Are the stones devotion keeping,</p> +<p class="i6">Should not man for her be weeping</p> +<p class="i6">Tears and blood in homage meet?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">The afflicted hither stealing</p> +<p class="i6">Should be kneeling;</p> +<p class="i6">Here will all obtain relief.</p> +<p class="i6">Sorrow will no more be preying,</p> +<p class="i6">Joyfully will all be saying:</p> +<p class="i6">Long ago we were in grief.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">On the mountain, walls commanding</p> +<p class="i6">Will be standing;</p> +<p class="i6">In the vales will voices cry,</p> +<p class="i6">When the bitter times are waking:</p> +<p class="i6">Let the heart of none be aching,</p> +<p class="i6">Thither to those places fly!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Oh, thou Holy Virgin Mother!</p> +<p class="i6">With another</p> +<p class="i6">Heart the sorrowing wanders hence.</p> +<p class="i6">Thou, Matilda, art revealing</p> +<p class="i6">Love eternal to my feeling,</p> +<p class="i6">Thou, the goal of every sense.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Thou, without my questions daring,</p> +<p class="i6">Art declaring</p> +<p class="i6">When I shall attain to thee.</p> +<p class="i6">Gaily in a thousand measures</p> +<p class="i6">Will I praise creation's treasures,</p> +<p class="i6">Till thou dost encircle me.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Things unwonted, wonders olden!</p> +<p class="i6">To you beholden,</p> +<p class="i6">Ever in my heart remain.</p> +<p class="i6">Memory her spell is flinging,</p> +<p class="i6">Where light's holy fountain springing</p> +<p class="i6">Washed away the dream of pain.</p> +</div></div> +<p class="normal">During this song he had noticed nothing, but as he looked up, +there appeared a young girl standing upon the rock, who kindly greeted him +like an old acquaintance, and invited him to go to her dwelling, where +she had already prepared an evening meal for him. Her whole behavior +and carriage towards him were friendly. She asked him to tarry a few +moments, while she stepped under the tree, and looking up with an +indescribable smile, shook many roses from her apron upon the grass. +She knelt silently by his side, but soon arose and led the pilgrim on.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Who has told thee about me?" asked the pilgrim.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Our mother."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Who is thy mother?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"The Mother of God."</p> + +<p class="normal">"How long hast thou been here?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Since I came from the tomb."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hast thou already been dead?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"How could I else be living?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Livest thou entirely alone here?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"An old man is at home, yet I know many more who have lived."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Wouldst thou like to remain with me?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Indeed I love thee."</p> + +<p class="normal">"How long hast thou known me?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"O! from olden times; my former mother, too, told me about +thee."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hast thou yet a mother?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes; but really the same."</p> + +<p class="normal">"What is her name?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Maria."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Who was thy father?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"The Count of Hohenzollern."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Him I also know."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Thou shouldst know him well, for he is also thy father."</p> + +<p class="normal">"My father is in Eisenach."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Thou hast more parents."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Whither are we going?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ever homewards."</p> + +<p class="normal">They had now reached a roomy spot in the wood, where some +decayed +towers were standing beyond deep ravines. Early shrubbery wound about +the old walls, like a youthful garland around the silvery head of an +old man. While contemplating the gray stones, the tortuous clefts, and +the tall, ghastly, shapes of rock, one looked into immensity of time, +and saw the most distant events, collected in short but brilliant +minutes. So appears to us the infinite space of heaven, clad in dark +blue; and like a milky glimmer, stainless as an infant's cheeks, +appears the most distant array of its ponderous and mighty worlds. They +walked through an old doorway, and the pilgrim was not a little +astonished when he found himself entirely surrounded by strange plants, +and saw all the charms of the most beautiful garden hidden beneath the +ruins. A small stone house built in recent style, with large windows, +lay in the rear. There stood an old man behind the broad-leafed +shrubbery, employed in tying the drooping branches to some little +props. His female guide led the pilgrim to him, and said, "Here is +Henry, after whom you have inquired so often."</p> + +<p class="normal">As the old man turned around, Henry fancied that he saw the +miner +before him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"This is the physician Sylvester," said the little girl.</p> + +<p class="normal">Sylvester was glad to see him, and said, "it is a long time +since I saw +your father. We were both young then. I was quite solicitous to teach +him the treasures of the Fore-time, the rich legacies bequeathed to us +by a world too early separated from us. I noticed in him the tokens of +a great artist; his eye flashed with the desire to become a correct +eye, a creative instrument; his face indicated inward constancy and +persevering industry. But the present world had already taken hold of +him too deeply; he would not listen to the call of his own nature. The +stern hardihood of his native sky had blighted in him the tender buds +of the noblest plants; he became an able mechanic, and inspiration +seemed to him but foolishness."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Indeed," said Henry, "I often observed a silent sadness +within him. He +always labored from mere habit, and not for any pleasure. He seems to +feel a want, which the peaceful quiet and comfort of his life, the +pleasure of being honored and beloved by his townsmen, and consulted in +all important affairs of the city, cannot satisfy. His friends consider +him very happy; but they know not how weary he is of life, how empty +the world appears to him, how he longs to depart from it; and that he +works so industriously not so much for the sake of gain, as to +dissipate such moods."</p> + +<p class="normal">"What I am most surprised at," replied Sylvester, "is that he +has +committed your education entirely into the hands of your mother, and +has carefully abstained from taking any part in your development, nor +has ever held you to any fixed occupation. You can happily say that you +have been permitted to grow up free from all parental restraints; for +most men are but the relics of a feast which men of different appetites +and tastes have plundered."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I myself know not," replied Henry, "what education is, except +that +derived from the life and disposition of my parents, or the instruction +of my teacher, the chaplain. My father with all his cool and sturdy +habits of thought, which leads him to regard all relations like a piece +of metal or a work of art, yet involuntarily and unconsciously exhibits +a silent reverence and godly fear before all incomprehensible and lofty +phenomena, and therefore looks upon the blooming growth of the child +with humble self-denial. A spirit is busy here, playing fresh from the +infinite fountain; and this feeling of the superiority of a child in +the loftiest matters, the irresistible thought of an intimate guidance +of the innocent being who is just entering on a course so critical, the +impress of a wondrous world, which no earthly currents have yet +obliterated, and then too the sympathizing memory of that golden age +when the world seemed to us clearer, kindlier, and more unwonted, and +the almost visible spirit of prophecy attended us,--all this has +certainly won my father to a system the most devout and discreet."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Let us seat ourselves upon the grass among the flowers," said +the old +man interrupting him. "Cyane will call us when our evening meal is +ready. I pray you continue your account of your early life. We old +people love much to hear of childhood's years, and it seems as if I +were drinking the odor of a flower, which I had not inhaled since my +infancy. Tell me first, however, how my solitude and garden please you, +for these flowers are my friends; my heart is in this garden. You see +nothing that loves me not, that is not tenderly beloved. I am here in +the midst of my children, like an old tree from whose roots, has +sprouted this merry youth."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Happy father," said Henry, "your garden is the world. The +ruins are +the mothers of these blooming children; this manifold animate creation +draws its support from the fragments of past time. But must the mother +die, that the children may thrive? Does the father remain sitting alone +at their tomb, in tears forever?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Sylvester gave his hand to the sighing youth, and then arose +to pluck a +fresh forget-me-not, which he tied to a cypress branch and brought to +him. The evening wind waved strangely in the tops of the pines which +stood beyond the ruins, and sent over their hollow murmur. Henry hid +his face bedewed with tears upon the neck of the good Sylvester, and +when he looked again, the evening star arose in full glory above the +forest.</p> + +<p class="normal">After some silence, Sylvester began; "You would probably like +to be at +Eisenach among your friends. Your parents, the excellent countess, your +father's upright neighbors, and the old chaplain make a fair social +circle. Their conversation must have produced an early influence upon +you, particularly as you were the only child. I also imagine the +country to be very striking and agreeable."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I learn for the first time," said Henry, "to esteem my native +country +properly, since my absence, and the sight of many other lands. Every +plant, every tree, every hill and mountain has its own horizon, its +peculiar landscape, which belongs to it, and explains its whole +structure and nature. Only men and animals can visit all countries; all +countries are theirs. Thus together they form one great region, one +infinite horizon, whose influence upon men and animals is just as +visible, as that of a more narrow circuit upon the plant. Hence men who +have travelled, birds of passage, and beasts of prey, are distinguished +among other faculties, for a remarkable intelligence. Yet they +certainly possess more or less susceptibility to the influence of these +circles, and of their varied contents and arrangement. The attention +and composure necessary to contemplate properly the alternation and +connexion of things, and then to reflect upon and compare them, are in +fact wanting to most men. I myself often feel how my native land has +breathed upon my earliest thoughts imperishable colors, and how its +image has become a peculiar feature of my mind, which I am ever better +explaining to myself, the deeper I perceive that fate and mind are but +names of one idea."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Upon me," said Sylvester, "living nature, the emotive +outer-garment of +a landscape, has always produced a most powerful effect. Especially I +am never tired of examining most carefully the different natures of +plants. All productions of the earth are its primitive language; every +new leaf, every particular flower, is everywhere a mystery, which +presses outward; and since it cannot move itself at love and joy, nor +come to words, becomes a mute, quiet plant. When we find such a flower +in solitude, is it not as if everything about it were glorified, and as +if the little feathered songsters loved most to linger near it? One +could weep for joy, and separated from the world, plant hand and foot +in the earth, to give it root, and never abandon the happy +neighborhood. Over all the sterile world is spread this green, +mysterious carpet of love. Every Spring it is renewed, and its peculiar +writing is legible only to the loved one, like the nosegay of the +East; he will read forever, yet never enough, and will perceive daily +new meanings, new delightful revelations of loving nature. This +infinite enjoyment is the secret charm, which the survey of the earth's +surface has for me, while each region solves other riddles, and has +always led me to divine whence I came and whither I go."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes," said Henry, "we began to speak of childhood's years, +and of +education, because we are in your garden; and the revelation of +childhood, the innocent world of flowers, imperceptibly brought to our +thoughts and lips the recollection of old acquaintanceship. My father +is also very fond of gardening, and spends the happiest hours of his +life among the flowers. This has certainly kept his heart open towards +children, since flowers are their counterpart. The teeming opulence of +infinite life, the mighty powers of later times, the splendor of the +end of the world, and the golden future which awaits all things, we +here see closely entwined, but still to be most plainly and clearly in +tender youthfulness. All-powerful love is already working, but does not +yet enflame; it is no devouring fire, but a melting vapor; and however +intimate the union of the tenderest souls may be, yet it is accompanied +by no intense excitement, no consuming madness, as in brutes. Thus is +childhood below here nearest to the earth; as on the other hand clouds +are perhaps the types of the second, higher childhood, of the paradise +regained; and hence they so beneficently shed their dew upon the +first."</p> + +<p class="normal">"There is indeed something very mysterious in the clouds," +said +Sylvester, "and certain overcloudings often have a wonderful influence +upon us. Trailing over our heads, they would take us up and away in +their cold shades; and when their form is lovely and varied, like an +outbreathed wish of our soul, then the clearness and the splendid +light, which reigns upon earth, is like a presage of unknown, ineffable +glory. But there are also dark, solemn, and fearful overcloudings, in +which all the terrors of old night appear to threaten. The sky seems as +if it never would be clear again; the serene blue is hidden; and a wan +copper hue upon the dark gray ground awakens fear and anxiety in every +bosom. Then when the blasting beams shoot downwards, and with fiendish +laughter the crashing thunder-peals fall after them, we are struck to +our souls; and unless there arises the lofty consciousness of our moral +superiority, we fancy that we are delivered over to the terrors of hell +and all the powers of darkness. They are echoes of the old, unhuman +nature, but awakening voices too of the higher nature of divine +conscience within us. The mortal totters to its base; the immortal +grows more serene and recognises itself."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Then," said Henry, "when will there be no more terror or +pain, want or +evil in the universe?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"When there is but one power, the power of conscience; when +nature +becomes chaste and pure. There is but one cause of evil,--common +frailty,--and this frailty is nothing but a weak moral susceptibility, +and a deficiency in the attraction of freedom."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Explain to me the nature of Conscience."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I were God, could I do so; for when we comprehend it, +Conscience +exists. Can you explain to me the essence of poetry?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"A personality cannot be distinctly defined."</p> + +<p class="normal">"How much less then the secret of the highest indivisibility. +Can music +be explained to the deaf?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"If so, would the sense itself be part of the new world opened +by it? +Does one understand facts only when one has them?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"The universe is separated into an infinite system of worlds, +ever +encompassed by greater worlds. All senses are in the end but one. One +sense conducts, like one world, gradually to all worlds. But everything +has its time and its mode. Only the Person of the universe can detect +the relations sustained by our world. It is difficult to say, whether +we, within the sensuous limits of corporeity, could really augment our +world with new worlds, our sense with new senses, or whether every +increase of our knowledge, every newly acquired ability, is only to be +considered as the development of our present organization."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Perhaps both are one," said Henry. "For my own part, I only +know that +Fable is the collective instrument of my present world. Even +Conscience, that sense and world-creating power, that germ of all +Personality, appears to me like the spirit of the world-poem, like the +event of the eternal, romantic confluence of the infinitely mutable +common life."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Dear pilgrim," Sylvester replied, "the Conscience appears in +every +serious perfection, in every fashioned truth. Every inclination and +ability transformed by reflection into a universal type becomes a +phenomenon, a phase of Conscience. All formation tends to that which +can only be called Freedom; though by that is not meant an idea, but +the creative ground of all being. This freedom is that of a guild. The +master exercises free power according to design, and in defined and +well digested method. The objects of his art are his, and he can do +with them as he pleases, nor is he fettered or circumscribed by them. +To speak accurately, this all-embracing freedom, this mastership of +dominion, is the essence, the impulse of Conscience. In it is revealed +the sacred peculiarity, the immediate creation of Personality, and +every action of the master, is at once the announcement of the lofty, +simple, evident world--God's word."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Then is that, which I remember was once called morality, only +religion +as Science, the so called theology in its proper sense? Is it but a +code of laws related to worship as nature is to God, a construction of +words, a train of thoughts, which indicates, represents the upper +world, and extends it to a certain point of progress--the religion for +the faculty of insight and judgment--the sentence, the law of the +solution and determination of all the possible relations which a +personal being sustains?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Certainly," said Sylvester, "Conscience is the innate +mediator of +every man. It takes the place of God upon earth, and is therefore to +many the highest and the final. But how far was the former science, +called virtue or morality, from the pure shape of this lofty, +comprehensive, personal thought! Conscience is the peculiar essence of +man fully glorified, the divine archetypal man (Urmensch.) It is not +this thing and that thing; it does not command in a common tongue, it +does not consist of distinct virtues. There is but one virtue,--the +pure, solemn Will, which, at the moment of decision chooses, resolves +instantaneously. In living and peculiar oneness it dwells and inspires +that tender emblem, the human body, and can excite all the spiritual +members to the truest activity."</p> + +<p class="normal">"O excellent father!" exclaimed Henry, "with what joy fills me +the +light which flows from your words! Thus the true spirit of Fable is the +spirit of virtue in friendly disguise; and the proper spirit of the +subordinate art of poetry is the emotion of the loftiest, most personal +existence. There is a surprising selfness (Selbstheit) between a +genuine song and a noble action. The disfranchised conscience in a +smooth, unresisting world, becomes an enchaining conversation, an +all-narrating fable. In the fields and halls of this old world lives +the poet, and virtue is the spirit of his earthly acts and influences; +and as this is the indwelling divinity among men, the marvellous reflex +of the higher world, so also is Fable. How safely can the poet now +follow the guidance of his inspiration, or if he possesses a lofty, +transcendent sense, follow higher essences, and submit to his calling +with child-like humility. The higher voice of the universe also speaks +within him, and cries with enchanting words to kindlier and more +familiar worlds. As religion is related to virtue, so is inspiration to +mythology; and as the history of revelation is treasured in sacred +writings, so the life of a higher world expresses itself in mythology +in manifold ways, in poems of wonderful origin. Fable and history +sustain to each other the most intimate relations, through paths the +most intricate, and disguises the most extraordinary; and the Bible and +mythology are constellations of one orbit."</p> + +<p class="normal">"What you say is perfectly true," said Sylvester; "and now you +can +probably comprehend that all nature subsists by the spirit of virtue +alone, and must ever become more permanent. It is the all-inflaming, +the all-quickening light in the embrace of earth. From the firmament, +that lofty dome of the starry realm, down to the ruffling carpet of the +varied meadow, all things will be sustained by it, united to us and +made comprehensible; and by it the unknown course of infinite nature's +history will be conducted to its consummation."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes; and you have often as beautifully shown, before now, the +connexion between virtue and religion. Everything, which experience and +earthly activity embrace, forms the province of Conscience, which +unites this world with higher worlds. With a loftier sense religion +appears, and what formerly seemed an incomprehensible necessity of our +inmost nature, a universal law without any definite intent, now becomes +a wonderful, domestic, infinitely varied, and satisfying world, an +inconceivably interior communion of all the spiritual with God, and a +perceptible, hallowing presence of the only One, or of his Will, of his +Love in our deepest self."</p> + +<p class="normal">"The innocence of your heart," Sylvester replied, "makes you a +prophet. +All things will be revealed to you, and for you the world and its +history will be transformed into holy writ, just as the sacred writings +evince how the universe can be revealed in simple words, or narratives, +if not directly, yet mediately by hinting at and exciting higher +senses. My connexion with nature has led me to the point where the joy +and inspiration of language have brought you. Art and history have made +me acquainted with nature. My parents dwelt in Sicily, not far from the +famous Mount Ætna. Their dwelling was a comfortable house in the +ancient style, hidden by old chestnut trees near the rocky shore of the +sea, and affording the attraction of a garden stocked with various +plants. Near were many huts, in which dwelt fishermen, herdsmen, and +vine-dressers. Our chambers and cellar were amply provided with +everything that supports and gives enjoyment to life, and by well +bestowed labor, our arrangements were agreeable to the most refined +senses. Moreover there was no lack of those manifold objects, whose +contemplation and use elevate the mind above ordinary life and its +necessities, preparing it for a more suitable condition, and seem to +promise and procure for it the pure enjoyment of its full and proper +nature. You might have seen there marble statues, storied vases, small +stones with most distinct figures, and other articles of furniture, the +relics perhaps of other and happier times. Also many scrolls of +parchment lay in folds upon each other, in which were treasured, in +their long succession of letters, the knowledge, sentiments, histories, +and poems of that past time, in most agreeable and polished +expressions. The calling of my father, who had by degrees become an +able astrologer, attracted to him many inquiring visiters, even from +distant lands; and as the knowledge of the future seemed to men a rare +and precious gift, they were led to remunerate him richly for his +communication; so that he was enabled, by the gifts he received, to +defray the expenses of a comfortable and even luxurious style of life."</p> + +<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:.5em; margin-top:24pt">* * *</p> +<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:.5em;"> * * </p> +<p class="normal">The author advanced no farther in the composition of this +second part, +which he called "The Fulfilment," as he had called the first "The +Expectation," because all that was left to anticipation in the latter +was explained and fulfilled in the former. It was the design of the +author to write, after the completion of Ofterdingen, six romances for +the statement of his views of physical science, civil life, commerce, +history, political science, and of love; as his views of poetry had +been given in Ofterdingen. I need not remind the intelligent reader, +that the author in this poem has not adhered very closely to the time +or the person of that well known Minnesinger, though every part brings +him and his time to remembrance. It is an irreparable loss, not only to +the friends of the author, but to the art itself, that he could not +have finished this romance, the originality and great design of which +would have been better developed in the second than in the first part. +For it was by no means his object to represent this or that occurrence, +to embrace one side of poetry, and explain it by figures and narrative; +but it was his intention, as is plain from the last chapter of the +first part, to express the real essence of poetry and explain its +inmost aim.</p> + +<p class="normal">To this end nature, history, war, and civil life, with their +usual +events, are all transformed to poetry, as that is the spirit which +animates all things.</p> + +<p class="normal">I shall endeavor as far as possible, from my memory of +conversations +with my friend, and from what I can discover in the papers he has left, +to give the reader some idea of the plan and subject-matter of the +second part of this work.</p> + +<p class="normal">To the poet, who has apprehended the essence of his art at its +central +point, nothing appears contradictory or strange; to him all riddles are +solved. By the magic of fancy he can unite all ages and all worlds; +wonders vanish, and all things change to wonders. So is this book +written; and the reader will find the boldest combinations, +particularly in the tale which closes the first part. Here are renewed +all those differences by which ages seem separated, and hostile worlds +meet each other. The poet wished particularly to make this tale the +transition-point to the second part, in which the narrative soars from +the common to the marvellous, and both are mutually explained and +restored; the spirit of the prologue in verse should return at each +chapter, and this state of mind, this wonderful view of things should +be permanent. By this means the invisible world remains in eternal +connexion with the visible. This speaking spirit is poetry itself; but +at the same time the sidereal man who is born from the love of Henry +and Matilda. In the following lines, which should have their place in +Ofterdingen, the author has expressed in the simplest manner the +interior spirit of his works:</p> +<div class="poem"> +<p class="i6">When marks and figures cease to be</p> +<p class="i6">For every creature's thoughts the key,</p> +<p class="i6">When they will even kiss or sing</p> +<p class="i6">Beyond the sage's reckoning,</p> +<p class="i6">When life, to Freedom will attain,</p> +<p class="i6">And Freedom in creation reign,</p> +<p class="i6">When Light and Shade, no longer single,</p> +<p class="i6">In genuine splendor intermingle,</p> +<p class="i6">And one in tales and poems sees</p> +<p class="i6">The world's eternal histories,--</p> +<p class="i6">Then will our whole inverted being</p> +<p class="i6">Before a secret word be fleeing.</p> +</div> +<p class="normal">The gardener, who converses with Henry, is the same old man +who had +formerly entertained Ofterdingen's father. The young girl, whose name +is Cyane, is not his child, but the daughter of the Count of +Hohenzollern. She came from the East; and though it was at an early +age, yet she can recollect her home. She has long lived a strange life +in the mountains, among which she was brought up by her deceased +mother. She has lost in early life a brother, and has narrowly escaped +death in a vaulted tomb; but an old physician rescued her in some +peculiar way. She is gentle, and kind, and very familiar with the +supernatural. She tells the poet her history as she had heard it once +from her mother. She sends him to a distant cloister, whose monks seem +to be a kind of spirit-colony; everything is like a mystic, magic +lodge. They are the priests of the holy fire in youthful minds. He +hears the distant chant of the brothers; in the church itself, he has a +vision. With an old monk Henry converses about death and magic, has +presentiment of death--and of the philosopher's stone; visits the +cloister-garden and the churchyard, concerning which latter I find the +following poem:--</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Praise ye now our still carousals,</p> +<p class="i6">Gardens, chambers decked so gaily,</p> +<p class="i6">Household goods as for espousals,</p> +<p class="i6">Our possessions praise.</p> +<p class="i6">New guests are coming daily,</p> +<p class="i6">Some late, the others early;</p> +<p class="i6">On the spacious hearth forever</p> +<p class="i6">Glimmereth a new life-blaze.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Thousand vessels wrought with cunning,</p> +<p class="i6">Once bedewed with thousand tears,</p> +<p class="i6">Golden rings and spurs and sabres,</p> +<p class="i6">Are our treasury;</p> +<p class="i6">Many gems of costly mounting</p> +<p class="i6">Wist we of in dark recesses,</p> +<p class="i6">None can all our wealth be counting,</p> +<p class="i6">Counts he even ceaselessly.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Children of a time evanished,</p> +<p class="i6">Heroes from the hoary ages,</p> +<p class="i6">Starry spirits high excelling,</p> +<p class="i6">Wondrously combine,</p> +<p class="i6">Graceful women, solemn sages,</p> +<p class="i6">Life in all its motley stages,</p> +<p class="i6">In one circle here are dwelling,</p> +<p class="i6">In the olden world recline.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">None is evermore molested;</p> +<p class="i6">None who joyously hath feasted,</p> +<p class="i6">At our sumptuous table seated,</p> +<p class="i6">Wisheth to be gone.</p> +<p class="i6">Hushed is sorrow's loud complaining,</p> +<p class="i6">Wonders are no longer greeted,</p> +<p class="i6">Bitter tears no longer raining,</p> +<p class="i6">Hour-glass ever floweth on.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Holy kindness deeply swelling,</p> +<p class="i6">In blest contemplation buried,</p> +<p class="i6">Heaven in the soul is dwelling</p> +<p class="i6">With a cloudless breast;</p> +<p class="i6">In our raiment long and flowing</p> +<p class="i6">Through spring-meadows are we carried,</p> +<p class="i6">Where rude winds are never blowing,</p> +<p class="i6">In this land of perfect rest.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Pleasing lure of midnight hours</p> +<p class="i6">Quiet sphere of hidden powers,</p> +<p class="i6">Rapture of mysterious pleasure,</p> +<p class="i6">These alone our prize;</p> +<p class="i6">Ours alone that highest measure,</p> +<p class="i6">Where ourselves in streamlets pouring,</p> +<p class="i6">Then in dew-drops upward soaring,</p> +<p class="i6">Drink we as we flow or rise.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">First with us grew life from love;</p> +<p class="i6">Closely like the elements</p> +<p class="i6">Do we mangle Being's waves,</p> +<p class="i6">Foaming heart with heart.</p> +<p class="i6">Hotly separate the waves,</p> +<p class="i6">For the strife of elements</p> +<p class="i6">Is the highest life of love,</p> +<p class="i6">And the very heart of hearts.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Whispered talk of gentle wishes</p> +<p class="i6">Hear we only, we are gazing</p> +<p class="i6">Ever into eyes transfigured,</p> +<p class="i6">Tasting nought but mouth and kiss;</p> +<p class="i6">All that we are only touching,</p> +<p class="i6">Change to balmy fruits and glowing,</p> +<p class="i6">Change to bosoms soft and tender,</p> +<p class="i6">Offerings to daring bliss.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">The desire is ever springing,</p> +<p class="i6">On the loved one to be clinging,</p> +<p class="i6">Round him all our spirit flinging,</p> +<p class="i6">One with him to be,--</p> +<p class="i6">Ardent impulse ever heeding</p> +<p class="i6">To consume in turn each other,</p> +<p class="i6">Only nourished, only feeding</p> +<p class="i6">On each other's ecstasy.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">So in love and lofty rapture</p> +<p class="i6">Are we evermore abiding,</p> +<p class="i6">Since that lurid life subsiding,</p> +<p class="i6">In the day grew pale;</p> +<p class="i6">Since the pyre its sparkles scattered,</p> +<p class="i6">And the sod above us sinking,</p> +<p class="i6">From around the spirit shrinking</p> +<p class="i6">Melted then the earthly veil.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Spells around remembrance woven,</p> +<p class="i6">Holy sorrow's trembling gladness,</p> +<p class="i6">Tone-like have our spirits cloven,</p> +<p class="i6">Cooled their glowing blood.</p> +<p class="i6">Wounds there are, forever paining;</p> +<p class="i6">A profound, celestial sadness,</p> +<p class="i6">Within all our hearts remaining,</p> +<p class="i6">Us dissolveth in one flood.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">And in flood we forth are gushing,</p> +<p class="i6">In a secret manner flowing</p> +<p class="i6">To the ocean of all living,</p> +<p class="i6">In the One profound;</p> +<p class="i6">And from out His heart while rushing,</p> +<p class="i6">To our circle backward going,</p> +<p class="i6">Spirit of the loftiest striving</p> +<p class="i6">Dips within our eddying round.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">All your golden chains be shaking</p> +<p class="i6">Bright with emeralds and rubies,</p> +<p class="i6">Flash and clang together making,</p> +<p class="i6">Shake with joyous note.</p> +<p class="i6">From the damp recesses waking,</p> +<p class="i6">From the sepulchres and ruins,</p> +<p class="i6">On your cheeks the flush of heaven,</p> +<p class="i6">To the realm of Fable float.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">O could men, who soon will follow</p> +<p class="i6">To the spirit-land, be dreaming</p> +<p class="i6">That we dwell in all their joyance,</p> +<p class="i6">All the bliss they taste,</p> +<p class="i6">They would burn with glad upbuoyance</p> +<p class="i6">To desert the life so hollow,--</p> +<p class="i6">O, the hours away are streaming,</p> +<p class="i6">Come, beloved, hither haste.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Aid to fetter the Earth-spirit,</p> +<p class="i6">Learn to know the sense of dying,</p> +<p class="i6">And the word of life discover;</p> +<p class="i6">Hither turn at last.</p> +<p class="i6">Soon will all thy power be over,</p> +<p class="i6">Borrowed light away be flying,</p> +<p class="i6">Soon art fettered, O Earth-spirit,</p> +<p class="i6">And thy time of empire past.</p> +</div></div> +<p class="normal">This poem was perhaps a prologue to a second chapter. Now an +entirely +new period of the work would have opened; the highest life proceeding +from the stillest death; he has lived among the dead and conversed with +them. Now the book would have become nearly dramatic, the epic tone, as +it were, uniting together and simply explaining the single scenes. +Henry suddenly finds himself in Italy, distracted, rent with wars; he +sees himself the leader of an army. All the elements of war play in +poetic colors. With an irregular band, he attacks a hostile city; here +appears in episode the love of a noble of Pisa for a Florentine maiden. +War-songs--"a great war, like a duel, noble, philosophical, human +throughout. Spirit of the old chivalry; the tournament. Spirit of +bacchanalian sadness.<a name="div1Ref_ftn4" href="#div1_ftn4"><sup>4</sup></a> Men must fall by each other,--nobler than to +fall by fate. They seek death.--Honor, fame, is the warrior's joy and +life. The warrior lives in death and like a shade. Desire for death is +the warrior-spirit. Upon the earth is war at home; it must be upon +earth."--In Pisa Henry finds the Son of Frederick the Second, who +becomes his confidential friend. He also travels to Loretto. Several +songs were to follow here.</p> + +<p class="normal">The poet is cast away on the shores of Greece by a tempest. +The old +world with its heroes and treasures of art fills his mind. He converses +with a Grecian about morality. Everything from ancient times is present +to him; he learns to understand the old pictures and histories. +Conversation upon Grecian polity and mythology.</p> + +<p class="normal">After becoming acquainted with the heroic age and with +antiquity, he +visits the Holy Land, for which he had felt so great a longing from his +youth. He seeks Jerusalem, and acquaints himself with Oriental poetry. +Strange events among the infidels detain him in desert regions; he +discovers the family of the eastern girl (see <a name="div1_ftn6" href="#div1Ref_ftn6">Part I</a>.): the manners and +life of nomadic tribes.--Persian tales, recollections of the remotest +antiquity. The book during all these various events was to retain its +characteristic hue, and recall to mind the blue flower: throughout, the +most distant and distinct traditions were to be knit together, Grecian, +Oriental, Biblical, Christian, with reminiscences of and references to +both the Indian and Northern mythology.--The Crusades.--Life at sea.-- +Henry visits Rome. Roman history.</p> + +<p class="normal">Sated with his experiences, Henry at length returns to +Germany. He +finds his grandfather, a profound character; Klingsohr is in his +society. An evening's conversation with them.</p> + +<p class="normal">Henry joins the court of Frederick, and becomes personally +acquainted +with the emperor. The court would have made a worthy appearance, +portraying the best, greatest, and most remarkable men, collected from +the whole world, whose centre is the emperor himself. Here appears the +greatest splendor, and the truly great world. German character and +German history are explained. Henry converses with the emperor +concerning government and the empire; obscure hints of America and the +Indies. The sentiments of a prince,--the mystic emperor,--the book, "De +tribus impostoribus."</p> + +<p class="normal">Henry having now, in a new and higher method than in the +Expectation, +lived through and observed nature, life, and death, war, the East, +history, and poetry, turns back into his mind as to an old home. From +his knowledge of the world and of himself arises the impulse for +expression; the wondrous world of fable now draws the nearest, because +the heart is fully open to its comprehension.</p> + +<p class="normal">In the Manesian collection of Minnesingers, we find a rather +obscure +rival song of Henry of Ofterdingen and Klingsohr with other poets; +instead of this, jousting, the author would have represented another +peculiar poetic contest, the war of the good and evil principles in +songs of religion and irreligion, the invisible world contrasted with +the visible. "Out of Enthusiasm the poets in bacchanalian intoxication +contend for death." The sciences are poetized; mathematics also enters +the lists. The plants of India are commemorated in song; new +glorification of Indian mythology.</p> + +<p class="normal">This is Henry's last act upon the earth; the transition to his +own +glorification. This is the solution of the whole work, the <i>Fulfilment</i> +of the allegory which concludes the First Part. Everything is explained +and completed, supernaturally and yet most naturally. The partition +between Fiction and Truth, between the Past and the Present has fallen +down. Faith, Fancy, and Poetry lay open the internal world.</p> + +<p class="normal">Henry reaches Sophia's land, in Nature, such as might be +allegorically +painted; after having conversed with Klingsohr concerning certain +singular signs and omens. These are mostly awakened by an old song +which he hears by chance, and in which is described a deep water in a +secluded spot. The song excites within him long forgotten +recollections; he visits the water, and finds a small golden key, which +a raven had stolen from him some time before, and which he had never, +expected to find. An old man had given it to him soon after Matilda's +death, with the injunction that he should carry it to the emperor, who +would tell him what to do with it. Henry seeks the emperor, who is +highly rejoiced and gives him an ancient manuscript, in which it is +written that the emperor should give it to that man who ever brought +him a golden key; that this man would discover in a secret place an old +talisman, a carbuncle for his crown, in which a space was yet left for +it. The place itself is also described in the parchment. After reading +the description, Henry takes the road to a mountain, and meets on the +way the stranger who first told him and his parents concerning the blue +flower; he converses with him about Revelation. He enters the mountain +and Cyane trustingly follows him.</p> + +<p class="normal">He soon reaches that wonderful land in which air and water, +flowers and +animals, differ entirely from those of earthly nature. The poem at the +same time changes in many places to a play. "Men, beasts, plants, +stones and stars, the elements, sounds, colors, meet like one family, +act and converse like one race. Flowers and brutes converge concerning +men. The world of fable is again visible; the real world is itself +regarded as a fable." He finds the blue flower; it is Matilda, who +sleeps and has the carbuncle. A little girl, their child, sits by a +coffin, and renews his youth. "This child is the primeval world, the +close of the golden time." "Here the Christian religion is reconciled +with the Heathen. The history of Orpheus, of Psyche, and others are +sung."</p> + +<p class="normal">Henry plucks the blue flower, and delivers Matilda from her +enchantment, but she is lost to him again; he becomes senseless through +pain, and changes to a stone. "Edda (the blue flower, the Eastern +Maiden, Matilda) sacrifices herself upon the stone; he is transformed +to a melodious tree. Cyane hews down the tree and burns herself with +him. He becomes a golden ram. Edda, Matilda, is obliged to sacrifice +it. He becomes a man again. During these metamorphoses he has the very +strangest conversations."</p> + +<p class="normal">He is happy with Matilda, who is both the Eastern Maiden and +Cyane. A +joyous spirit-festival is celebrated. All that has past was Death, the +last dream and awakening. "Klingsohr comes again as king of Atlantis. +Henry's mother is Fancy, his father, Sense. Swaning is the Moon; the +miner is the antiquary and at the same time Iron. The emperor Frederick +is Arcturus. The Count of Hohenzollern and the merchants also return." +Everything flows into an allegory. Cyane brings the stone to the +emperor; but Henry is now himself the poet of the fabulous tale which +the merchants had formerly related to him.</p> + +<p class="normal">The blissful land suffers yet again by enchantment, while +subjected to +the changes of the Seasons. Henry destroys the realm of the Sun. The +whole work was to close with a long poem, only the beginning of which +was composed.</p> + +<h2>THE NUPTIALS OF THE SEASONS.</h2> +<hr class="W20" /> +<div class="poem"> +<p class="i6">Deep buried in thought stood the new monarch. He was recalling</p> +<p class="i8">Dreams of the midnight, and every wonderful tale,</p> +<p class="i6">Which gathered he first from the heavenly flower, when stricken</p> +<p class="i8">Gently by prophecy, love all-subduing he felt.</p> +<p class="i6">He thought still he heard the accents deeply impressive,</p> +<p class="i8">Just as the guest was deserting the circle of joy;</p> +<p class="i6">Fleeting gleams of the moon illumined the clattering window,</p> +<p class="i8">And in the breast of the youth there raged a passionate glow.</p> +<p class="i6">Edda, whispered the monarch, what is the innermost longing</p> +<p class="i8">In the bosom that loves? What his ineffable grief?</p> +<p class="i6">Say it, for him would we comfort, the power is ours, and noble</p> +<p class="i8">Be the time when thou art the joy of heaven again.--</p> +<p class="i6">"Were the times not so cold and morose, if were united</p> +<p class="i8">Future with Present, and both with the holy Past time;</p> +<p class="i6">Were the Spring linked to Autumn, and the Summer to Winter,</p> +<p class="i8">Were into serious grace childhood with silver age fused;</p> +<p class="i6">Then, O spouse of my heart, would dry up the fountain of sorrow,</p> +<p class="i8">Every deep cherished wish would be secured to the soul."</p> +<p class="i6">Thus spake the queen, and gladsomely clasped her the radiant beloved:</p> +<p class="i8">Thou hast uttered in sooth to me a heavenly word,</p> +<p class="i6">Which long ago over the lips of the deep-feeling hovered,</p> +<p class="i8">But on thine alone first pure and in season did light.</p> +<p class="i6">Quickly drive here the chariot, ourselves we will summon</p> +<p class="i8">First the times of the year, then all the seasons of man.--</p> +</div> +<p class="normal">They ride to the sun, and first bring the Day, then the Night; then to +the North, for Winter, then to the South, to find Summer; from the East +they bring the Spring, from the West the Autumn. Then they hasten after +Youth, next to Age, to the Past and to the Future.</p> + +<p class="normal">This is all I have been able to give the reader from my own +recollection, and from scattered words and hints in the papers of my +friend. The accomplishment of this great task would have been a lasting +memorial of a new poesy. In this notice I have preferred to be short +and dry, rather than expose myself to the danger of adding anything +from my own fancy. Perhaps many a reader will be grieved at the +fragmentary character of these verses and words, as well as myself, who +would not regard with any more devout sadness a piece of some ruined +picture of Raphael or Corregio.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="sc">L. Tieck</span>.</p> + +<h2>NOTES.</h2> + +<h2><a name="div1_note1" href="#div1Ref_note1">I</a>.</h2> + +<p class="normal">This <i>rifacimento</i> of Arion's story is not mere mythological +twaddle. +As allegories abound, and as in fact there is a suspicion that the +whole Romance may be only an allegory, an "Apotheosis of Poetry,"--the +reader must keep open his internal eye.</p> + +<p class="normal">Arion is the Spirit of Poetry as embodied in any age, whether +in a +single voice, or many. This the age always attempts to drown,--seldom +with applause. The sailors are the exponents of an age, or its +critics. In the case of Arion, they belonged to a certain tribe of +Philistines,--not yet extinct.<a name="div1Ref_ftn5" href="#div1_ftn5"><sup>5</sup></a> There is a deep significance in the +fact, that they resolutely stopped their ears against the Poet's +song. The treasures of the Poet are his ideas of the good and the +beautiful, which he fetches from his far home; for he comes, "not +in entire forgetfulness." The fact, that Arion preferred jumping +overboard to being converted into a heave-offering, is typical of the +self-extinguishment and natural dissolution of the true soul, born into +a humanity which is not its counterpart, which cannot answer to it. +Those providential dolphins are a grateful posterity, which preserve +not only the Poet's treasures, but his memory. The conflict among the +sailors, too, has a deep meaning, hidden also in that old, wonderful +myth of the Kilkenny cats.</p> + +<p class="normal">But an allegory has many sides, like a genuine symphony. Each +reader +will interpret all of them best from his own point of view. Should +Henry himself turn out to be Arion, the feat would only be one of +inverted transmigration, and not more extraordinary than the regular +method.</p> + +<h2><a name="div1_note2" href="#div1Ref_note2">II</a>.</h2> + +<p class="normal">An opportunity is taken to introduce some further remarks of +the author +concerning History. They are found among a multitude of fragments, +arranged under the three heads of Philosophical, Critical, and Moral; +an amorphous heap of sayings, generally of great beauty and power. The +present have little connexion with the text, but will be their own +excuse. The total of his remarks will be seen to hint at a theory of +History, with which most school-histories and respectable annals are in +no wise infected.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Luck or fate is talent for history. The sense for +apprehending +occurrences is the prophetic, and luck the divining instinct. (Hence +the ancients justly considered a man's luck one of his talents.) We +take delight in divination. Romance has arisen from the want of +history.</p> + +<p class="normal">'History creates itself. It first arises through the connexion +of the +past with the future. Men treat their recollections much too negligently.</p> + +<p class="normal">'The historian organizes the historical Essence. The data of history +are the mass, to which the historian gives form, while giving +animation. Consequently history always presupposes the principles of +animation and organization; and where they are not antecedent there can +be no genuine historical <i>chef d'Å“uvre</i>, but only here and there the +traces of an accidental animation, where a capricious genius has ruled.</p> + +<p class="normal">'The demand, to consider this present world the best, is +exactly +analogous to that which would consider my own wedded wife the best and +only woman, and life to be entirely for her and in her. Many similar +demands and pretensions are there, which he who dutifully acknowledges, +who has a discriminating respect for everything that has transpired, is +historically religious, the absolute Believer and Mystic of history, +the genuine lover of Destiny. Fate is the mysticised history. Every +voluntary love, in the common signification, is a religion, which has +and can have but one apostle, one evangelist and disciple, and can be, +though not necessarily, an extra-religion (Wechsel-religion.)</p> + +<p class="normal">'There is a series of ideal occurrences running parallel with +reality. +They seldom coincide. Men and chances usually modify the ideal +occurrence, so that it appears imperfect, and its results likewise. +Thus it was in the Reformation. Instead of Protestantism appeared +Lutheranism.</p> + +<p class="normal">'What fashions the man, but his <i>Life-History</i>? In like manner +nothing +fashions great men, but the <i>World's-History</i>.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Many men live better in the past and future time, than in the +present.</p> + +<p class="normal">'The Present indeed is not at all comprehensible without the +Past, and +without a high degree of culture, an impregnation with the highest +products, with the pure spirits of the present and of previous ages; +all which assimilating guides and strengthens the human prophetic +glance, which is more indispensable to the human historian, to the +active, ideal elaborator of historic facts, than to the grammatical and +rhetorical annalist.'</p> + +<h2><a name="div1_note3" href="#div1Ref_note3">III</a>.</h2> + +<p class="normal">Novalis seems here to rehearse his whole poetic creed; or +rather, he +seems to be reviewing his own poems. What he deprecates, are the faults +he most avoids. He is distinguished for extreme simplicity, both in +style and language; and the thoughts, though lofty and sometimes vast, +are yet fresh, chaste, and comprehensible. They have a domestic +sublimity. They indicate simply an infinite expansion of the poet's +heart, whose mild and primeval denizens are undisturbed by the forced, +the foreign, or the shadowy. They have a oneness of design, and are +finished and luminous to the most minute criticism. If we say that +Novalis wrote as he was inspired, never attempting to superinduce what +was only galvanic upon the true life, and never daring to write when he +was not inspired, we both describe his genius and discover the secret +of his beauty.</p> + +<p class="normal">With one or two exceptions, the present romance is an +unfavorable +specimen of his poetic powers. The subjects of most of the songs +require only that luminous simplicity alluded to, and are only fine +examples of a lyrical style, with a few glimpses of his true genius. +"Astralis," the poem that introduces the second part, is unlike the +rest of the volume, being an irregular, mystic embodyment of the hero's +destinies,--a recapitulation of the past and a presentiment of the +future. The romance is unfavorable, excepting one or two prose passages +of great sublimity, much resembling the "Hymns to the Night," one or +two of which are given below. The dream at the close of the sixth +chapter may be particularly designated. "The image of Death, and of the +River being the Sky in that other and eternal Country, seems to us a +fine and touching one: there is in it a trace of that simplicity, that +soft, still pathos, which are characteristics of Novalis, and doubtless +the highest of his specially poetic gifts." But it is in his Spiritual +Songs that we gain a glimpse of his true genius. They are eminently +devotional, and indiscriminately addressed to the Father, the Son, and +the Holy Virgin. A translation of the mass of them would form a most +desirable hymn book for the Christian, though, to be sure, it would be +very graceless to supplant worthy old Dr. Watts. But they are very +sweet and touching, and full of pious fervor. We have been struck with +the similarity of their tone to those of George Herbert, who stands +with the Father and the Son at the very door of his heart, with tearful +and familiar supplication for them to enter.</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Geusz, Vater, Ihn gewaltig aus,</p> +<p class="i6">Gib Ihn aus deinem Arm heraus:</p> +<p class="i6"><i>Nur Unschuld, Lieb' und süsze Scham</i></p> +<p class="i6"><i>Hielt Ihn, dasz er nicht längst schon kam</i>.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Treib' Ihn von dir in unsern Arm,</p> +<p class="i6"><i>Dasz er von deinem Hauch noch warm</i>;</p> +<p class="i6">In schweren Wolken sammle ihn,</p> +<p class="i6">Und lasz Ihn so hernieder ziehn."</p> +</div></div> +<p class="normal">Among his promiscuous poems is a beautiful lyric, representing the +triumph of Faith over Sorrow, under the symbol of a beautiful child +bringing to him a wand, beneath whose touch the Queen of Serpents +yields to him the "precious jewel."</p> + +<p class="normal">The following is the first Hymn to the Night:</p> + +<p class="normal">"What living, sense-endowed being loves not, before all the +prodigies +of the far extending space around him, the all-rejoicing light with its +colors, its beams and billows, its mild omnipresence, as waking day? +The restless giant-world of the stars, swimming with dancing motion in +its azure flood. Inhales it as its life's inmost soul; the sparkling, +ever-resting stone, the sensitive, imbibing plant, and the wild, +burning, many-shaped animal, inhale it; but before all, the glorious +stranger, with the speaking eyes, the uncertain gait, and the gently +closed, melodious lips. Like a king of earthly nature, it summons each +power to countless transformations, ratifies and dissolves treaties in +infinite number, and suspends its heavenly image on every earthly +being. Its presence alone reveals the wondrous splendor of creation's +realms.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I turn aside to the holy, ineffable, mysterious Night. Far +away lies +the world, sunk in a depth profound waste and lonely is its place. O'er +the chords of the bosom waveth deep sadness. I will dissolve into dew +drops, and mingle myself with the ashes. Distance of memory, wishes of +youth, dreams of childhood, the short joys and vain hopes of a whole +long life, flit by me in robes of gray, like evening clouds after +sunset. In other spaces Light has pitched its merry tents. Will it +never return to its children, who are waiting for it with the trusting +faith of innocence?</p> + +<p class="normal">"What swells now so forebodingly beneath the heart, and +swallows up the +soft air of sadness? Hast thou also a pleasure in us, sombre Night? +What bringest thou beneath thy mantle, that with viewless power winds +its way to my soul? A costly balsam is dripping from thy hand, from thy +bunch of poppy. The drooping pinions of the mind thou bearest upward. +Dimly and ineffably we feel ourselves moved; a solemn countenance do I +see, in pleasing terror, that gently and full of devotion bendeth +towards me, and showeth dear youth hid in the infinite locks of the +mother. How poor and childish Light now appears to me! How welcome and +blessed the farewell of day! Only for this, because Night alienates +from thee thy servants, didst thou sow in the regions of space the +luminous balls, to proclaim thy omnipotence, thy return, in the times +of thy absence. More heavenly than yonder twinkling stars appear the +infinite eyes that Night opens in us. Their sight extends farther than +the palest of that numberless host; unbeholden to Light, they gaze +through the depths of a loving spirit, which fills a loftier space with +unspeakable rapture. Praised be the Queen of the world, the high +announcer of holy spheres, the nurse of blessed love! She sends me +thee, O dearly beloved, lovely sun of the Night. Now I awake, for I am +Thine and Mine; thou hast announced to me Night as my life, thou hast +made me a man. Consume my body with a spirit-glow, that in ether I may +mingle more closely with thee, and be thou my bridal night forever."</p> + +<p class="normal">The Beloved was Sophia; concerning whom he writes as +follows:--</p> + +<p class="right">"Weissenfels, March 22d, 1797.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is for me a mournful duty to inform you that Sophia is no +more. +After unspeakable sufferings, borne with exemplary resignation, she +died on the 10th of March, at half past nine in the morning. She was +born on the 17th of March, 1783, and on the 15th of March, 1795, I +gained from her the assurance, that she would be mine. She has suffered +since the 7th of November, 1795. Eight days before her death I left her +with the strongest conviction, that I should never see her again. I +could not have endured to look impotently upon the terrible struggle of +blooming youth down-stricken, the fearful anguish of the heavenly +creature. Fate have I never feared. For three previous weeks I saw its +menaces. It has become evening about me, whilst I was yet gazing into +the morning-red. My sorrow is boundless, like my love. For three years +had she been my hourly thought. She alone has bound me to life, to my +country, and to my occupations. With her loss I am separated from +everything, for I scarcely have myself any longer. But it has become +evening, and it seems to me, as if I soon were about to depart, and so +would I gladly be tranquil, and see around me only kind, friendly +faces, and live entirely in her spirit, gentle and kindhearted, as she +was.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Cherished by me, as my own immortal Sophia, will be the +friendship, +the assiduity with which you strove to render her last days serene. +Sophia still treasures your kindnesses with the warmest gratitude, and +I have felt a silent impulse to express to you this gratitude, united +with my own. You will pardon it to my love, when I tell you, that your +attention to Sophia's wishes, and that half year's residence with her, +now first has made you really dear to me.... I must cling to the past, +as I have nothing more to expect from the future. Farewell, and be +happier than</p> + +<p style="text-indent:50%">Your friend,</p> +<p style="text-indent:55%">HARDENBERG."</p> + +<p class="normal">But how soon does his grief become holy, and therefore a joy! +The +letter is chiefly valuable as an introduction to the third Hymn to the +Night:--</p> + +<p class="normal">"Once as I shed bitter tears, when my hope dissolved into pain +flowed +away, and I stood alone by the barren hillock, which hid in a dark, +narrow space the form of my life; alone, as none had been before, +driven by unspeakable anguish, powerless, nothing left but a thought of +misery;--as I then looked about after aid, could neither move forward +nor backward, but clung to a fleeting, extinguished life, with infinite +longing,--then came from the blue distance, from the heights of my old +blessedness, a breath as of twilight, and at once the tie of birth, the +chain of Light, was rent asunder. Away flew the glory of earth, and +with it my sorrow; the sadness rushed together into a new, unfathomable +world; thou, Night's-inspiration, slumber of heaven, camest over me. +Gently the scene rose aloft; above it floated my unfettered, new-born +Spirit The hillock became a dust-cloud, and through it I saw the +transfigured features of my Beloved. Eternity lay in her eyes; I +grasped her hands, and the tears became a glittering, indissoluble tie. +Thousands of years flew away in the distance, like tempest-clouds. Upon +her neck I wept enrapturing tears at the thought of this new life.--It +was the first and only dream, and since then do I feel an eternal, +unchangeable faith in the heaven of Night, and its Sun my Beloved."</p> + +<p class="normal">Such is the melting tenderness, which is a chief element of +his poetry, +such the cunning drug that embalms his genius!</p> + +<h2>FOOTNOTES:</h2> + +<p class="hang1"><a name="div1_ftn1" href="#div1Ref_ftn1">Footnote 1</a>: Mährchen.</p> + +<p class="hang1"><a name="div1_ftn2" href="#div1Ref_ftn2">Footnote 2</a>: <i>Mutter</i> or <i>Metallmutter</i> is the gang or matrix +that contains the ore.</p> + +<p class="hang1"><a name="div1_ftn3" href="#div1Ref_ftn3">Footnote 3</a>: <i>Mährchen.</i></p> + +<p class="hang1"><a name="div1_ftn4" href="#div1Ref_ftn4">Footnote 4</a>: <i>Bacchischen Wehmuth</i>; the sadness that drives to +dissipation, not the Elysium of the morning after.</p> + +<p class="hang1"><a name="div1_ftn5" href="#div1Ref_ftn5">Footnote 5</a>: The word <i>Critic</i> is derived from the Hebrew word +כּרתי <i>executioner</i>; collectively, <i>executioners and runners</i>, from the +root כּרת, <i>to cut</i>. Thus it gradually came to mean, to cut +and run. It is somewhat remarkable that the secondary meaning of the +noun is <i>Philistine</i>. See Gesenius in voc.; who also adds, "the +conjecture is not improbable that the Philistines sprang from Crete, +and that <i>Caphtor</i> signifies Κρητη. Comp. Michælis Spicil. J. +1. p. 292-308. Supplemm. p. 1328." The proverbial character of the +Cretans is well known.</p> + +<p class="hang2">The Rabbi Ben Hillel, who was of the tribe of Onagrites, +defended the +oral traditions of the Jews against certain persons, who were disposed +to sniff somewhat. In his writings, the venerable Rabbi was accustomed +to designate them as Philistines--<i>mais nous avons change tout +cela</i>--and, in a felicitous allusion to the ancient narrative, +insinuated that the extraordinary discomfiture of so many Philistines +by a certain jaw-bone was explained upon the well known principle in +HomÅ“opathy, whereby any nuisance is abated by the application of +homogeneous substances. This was in the infancy of that science. But +the learned Rabbi in his strictures did not anticipate the retort of +his opponent Judas Haggadosh, who called Ben Hillel "<i>the would-be +jaw-bone.</i>"</p> + +<h3>THE END.</h3> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HENRY OF OFTERDINGEN ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law 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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. 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Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e10c42e --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #31873 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/31873) diff --git a/old/31873-8.txt b/old/31873-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7fbfd32 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/31873-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6776 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Henry of Ofterdingen: A Romance., by +Friedrich von Hardenberg + +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: Henry of Ofterdingen: A Romance. + +Author: Friedrich von Hardenberg + +Release Date: April 3, 2010 [EBook #31873] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HENRY OF OFTERDINGEN: A ROMANCE. *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by the Web Archive + + + + +Transcriber's notes: + +1. Source: Web Archive: +http://www.archive.org/details/henryofterdinge00schlgoog + +2. Hebrew words: krt = kaf-resh-taf = to cut; + krty = kaf-resh-taf-yod = to executioner. + +3. Greek word: Krêtê = Kappa-rho-eta-tau-eta = Crete. + +4. diphthong oe=[oe] + + + + + HENRY OF OFTERDINGEN: + + A ROMANCE. + + + + FROM THE GERMAN OF + + NOVALIS, + + (FRIEDRICH VON HARDENBERG.) + + + + + CAMBRIDGE: + PUBLISHED BY JOHN OWEN. + + M DCCC XLII. + + + + + + Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1842, + BY JOHN OWEN, + in the Clerk's office of the District Court of the District of + Massachusetts. + + + + + CAMBRIDGE PRESS: + LYMAN THURSTON AND WILLIAM TORRY. + + + + + ADVERTISEMENT. + + +The present translation is made from the edition of Tieck and Schlegel. +The life of the author is chiefly drawn from the one written by the +former. The completion of the second part is also by the same writer. + +Richter said, in a prophetic feeling of the fate of his own works, that +translators were like wagoners who carry good wine to fairs--but most +unaccountably water it before the end of the journey. Which allusion +and semi-confession is meant to take the place of the usual apology; +and the reader can proceed without farther preface. + +_Cambridge_, _June_, 1842. + + + + + ERRATA. + +Page xvi, line tenth from bottom, _for_ tion. He _read_ tion, he + +Page 22, line ninth from top, _for_ work _read_ woke + +Page 66, first word of the poetry, _for_ Though _read_ Through + + + + + LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. + + + +Probably some of the readers of this volume will feel an interest in +the author's life. Although there are but few works, in which the mind +of the author is more clearly and purely reflected than in this; yet it +is natural that the reader should feel some interest in the outward +circumstances of one, who has become dear to him; and those friends of +Novalis, who have never known him personally, will be glad to hear all +that we can bring to light concerning him. + +The Baron of Hardenberg, the father of the author, was director of the +Saxonian salt works. He had been a soldier in his younger days, and +retained even in his old age a predilection for a military life. He was +a robust, ever active man, frank and energetic;--a pure German. The +pious character of his mind led him to join the Moravian community; yet +he remained frank, decided, and upright. His mother, a type of elevated +piety and Christian meekness, belonged to the same religious community. +She bore with lofty resignation the loss, within a few successive +years, of a blooming circle of hopeful and well educated children. + +Friedrich von Hardenberg (Novalis) was born on the second of May, in +the year 1772, on a family estate in the county of Mansfield. He was +the oldest of eleven children, with the exception of a sister who was +born a year earlier. The family consisted of seven sons and four +daughters, all distinguished for their wit and the lofty tone of their +minds. Each possessed a peculiar disposition, while all were united by +a beautiful and generous affection to each other and to their parents. +Friedrich von Hardenberg was weak in constitution from his earliest +childhood, without, however, suffering from any settled or dangerous +disease. He was somewhat of a day-dreamer, silent and of an inactive +disposition. He separated himself from the society of his playmates; +but his character was distinguished from that of other children, only +by the ardor of his love for his master. He found his companions in his +own family. His spirit seemed to be wakened from its slumber, by a +severe disease in his ninth year, and by the stimulants applied for his +recovery; and he suddenly appeared brighter, merrier, and more active. +His father, who was obliged by his business to be much of his time away +from home, entrusted his education for the most part to his mother, and +to family tutors. The gentleness, meekness, and the pure piety of his +mother's character, as well as the religious habits of both parents, +which naturally extended to the whole household, made the deepest +impression upon his mind; an impression which exerted the happiest +influence upon him throughout his whole life. He now applied himself +diligently to his studies, so that in his twelfth year he had acquired +a pretty thorough knowledge of the Latin language, and some smattering +of Greek. The reading of Poetry was the favorite occupation of his +leisure hours. He was particularly pleased with the higher kind of +fables, and amused himself by composing them and relating them to his +brothers. He was accustomed for several years to act, in concert with +his brothers Erasmus and Charles, a little poetical play, in which they +took the characters of spirits, one of the air, another of the water, +and the other of the earth. On Sunday evenings, Novalis would explain +to them the most wonderful and various appearances and phenomena of +these different realms. There are still in existence some of his poems +written about this period. + +He now applied himself too severely to study, especially to history, in +which he took a deep interest. In the year 1789, he entered a +Gymnasium, and in the autumn went to Jena to pursue his studies there. +Here he remained until 1792, and then with his brother Erasmus entered +the University at Leipzig; he left the following year for Wittenberg, +and there finished his studies. + +At this time the French war broke out, which not only interrupted his +studies greatly, but which also inspired him suddenly with so great a +desire to enter upon a military life, that the united prayers of his +parents and relations were scarcely able to restrain his wishes. + +About this time he became acquainted with Frederick Schlegel, and soon +became his warmest friend; he also gained the friendship of Fichte; and +these two great spirits exerted a powerful and lasting influence upon +his whole life. After applying himself with unwearied ardor to the +sciences, he left Wittenberg for Arnstadt in Thuringia, in order to +accustom himself to practical business with Just, the chief judiciary +of the district. This excellent man soon became one of his nearest +friends. Shortly after his arrival at Arnstadt, he became acquainted +with Sophia von K., who resided at a neighboring country seat. The +first sight of her beautiful and lovely form decided the fate of his +whole life; or rather the passion, which penetrated and inspired his +soul, became the contents of his whole life. Often even in the face of +childhood, there is an expression so sweet and spiritual, that we call +it supernatural and heavenly; and the fear impresses itself on our +hearts, that faces, so transfigured and transparent, are too tender and +too finely woven for this life; that it is death or immortality that +gazes through the glancing eye; and too often are our forebodings +realized by the rapid withering of such blossoms. Still more beautiful +are such forms, when, childhood left behind, they have advanced to the +full bloom of youth. All who knew the betrothed of our author are +agreed, that no description could do justice to her beauty, grace, and +heavenly simplicity. She was in her fourteenth year when Novalis became +acquainted with her; and the spring and summer of 1795 were indeed the +blooming season of his life. Every hour he could spare from his +business was spent at Grüningen; and late in the fall of 1796, he was +betrothed to Sophia with the consent of her parents. Shortly after she +was taken severely sick with a fever, which, though it lasted but a few +weeks, yet left her with a pain in the side, which by its intensity +rendered unhappy many of her hours. Novalis was much alarmed, but was +quieted by her physician, who pronounced this pain of no consequence. + +Shortly after her recovery he departed for Weissenfels, where he was +appointed auditor in the department of which his father was director. +He passed the winter of 1795-96 in business, hearing news from +Grüningen of a quieting character. He journeyed thither in the spring, +and found his betrothed to all appearance recovered. At this time his +brother Erasmus was taken sick, so that he left off his studies, and +devoted himself in a distant place to the chase and a forest life. His +brother Charles joined the army, and in the spring entered upon active +service. Thus Novalis lived quietly at home, his parents and sisters +forming his chief society, the other children being yet quite young. In +the summer, while he was rejoicing in the prospect of being soon united +to Sophia, he received information, that she was at Jena, and there on +account of ulceration of the liver, had undergone a severe operation. +It had been her wish, that he should not be informed of her sickness, +nor of the dangerous operation, till it was over. He hastened to Jena, +and found her in intense suffering. Her physician, one far famed for +his ability, could allow them to hope only for a very slow recovery, if +indeed she should survive. He was obliged to repeat the operation, and +feared that she would want strength to support her through the healing +process. With lofty courage and indescribable fortitude, Sophia bore up +against all her sufferings. Novalis was there to console her; his +parents offered up their sympathetic prayers; his two brothers had +returned and strove to be of service to the sorrowing one, as well as +to the suffering. In December Serbia desired to visit Grüningen again. +Novalis requested Erasmus to accompany her on her journey. He did so, +together with her mother and sisters, who had attended her at Jena. +After having accompanied her to her place of residence, he returned to +his residence in Franconia. + +Novalis was now by turns in Weissenfels and Grüningen. With great +grief, however, he was obliged to confess, that he found Sophia worse +and worse at every visit. Towards the end of January, 1797, Erasmus +also returned to Weissenfels very sick, and the expected deaths of two +beings, so much beloved, filled the house with gloom. + +The 17th of March was Sophia's fifteenth birthday, and on the 19th, +about noon, she fell asleep in the arms of her sisters, and faithful +instructress Mademoiselle Danscour, who loved her tenderly. No one +dared bring the news to Novalis, until his brother Charles at last +undertook the mournful office. For three days and nights, the mourner +shut himself up from his friends, weeping away the hours, and then +hastened to Arnstadt, that he might be with his truest friends, and +nearer to the beloved place, which contained the remains of her who was +dearest to him. On the 14th of April, he also lost his brother Erasmus. +Novalis writing to his brother Charles, who had been obliged to travel +to Lower Saxony, says, speaking of the death of Erasmus, "Be consoled; +Erasmus has conquered; the flowers of the lovely wreath are dropping +off, one by one, to be united more beautifully in Heaven." + +At this time Novalis, living as he did only for suffering, naturally +regarded the visible and the invisible world as one, and regarded life +and death as distinguished only by our longing for the latter. At the +same time life was transfigured before him, and his whole being flowed +together as in a clear conscious dream of a higher existence. His +sensibilities, as well as his imagination, were very much decided from +the solemnity of his suffering, from his heartfelt love, and from the +pious longing for death, which he cherished. It is indeed very +possible, that deep sorrow at this time planted the death-seed in him; +unless perhaps it was his irrevocable destiny, to be so early torn +away. + +He remained many weeks in Thuringia, and returned consoled and truly +exalted to his business, which he pursued more eagerly than ever, +though he regarded himself as a stranger upon earth. About this time, +some earlier, some later, but particularly during the fall of this +year, he composed most of those pieces, which have been published under +the title of "Fragments," as also his "Hymns to Night." + +In December of this year, he went to Freiberg, where the acquaintance +and instruction of the renowned Werner awoke anew his passion for +physical science, and especially for mining. Here he became acquainted +with Julia von Ch.; and, strange as it may appear to all but his +intimate friends, he was betrothed to her, as early as the year 1798. +Sophia (as we may see from his works) remained the balancing point of +his thoughts; he honored her, absent as she was, even more than when +present with him; but yet he thought that loveliness and beauty could, +to a certain degree, replace her loss. About this time he wrote "Faith +and Love," the "Flower Dust," and some other fragments, as "The Pupils +at Sais." In the spring of 1799, Serbia's instructress died; which +event moved Novalis the more deeply, because he knew that sorrow for +the loss of her beloved pupil had chiefly contributed to hasten her +death. Soon after this event he returned to the paternal estate, and +was appointed under his father Assessor and chief Judiciary of the +Thuringian district. + +He now visited Jena often, and there became acquainted with A. W. +Schlegel, and sought out the gifted Ritter, whom he particularly loved, +and whose peculiar talent for experimenting he greatly admired. Ludwig +Tieck saw him this year for the first time, while on a visit to his +friend Wm. Schlegel. Their acquaintance soon ripened into a warm +friendship. These friends, in company with Schlegel, Schelling, and +other strangers, passed many happy days in Jena. On his return, Tieck +visited Novalis at his father's house, became acquainted with his +family, and for the first time listened to the reading of "the Pupils +at Sais," and many of his fragments. He then accompanied him to Halle, +and many hours were peacefully passed in Reichardt's house. His first +conception of Henry of Ofterdingen dates about this time. He had also +already written some of his spiritual songs; they were to make a part +of a hymn book, which he intended to accompany with a volume of +sermons. Besides these labors he was very industrious in the duties of +his office; all his duties were attended to with willingness, and +nothing of however little importance was insignificant to him. + +When Tieck, in the autumn of 1799, took up his residence at Jena, and +Frederick Schlegel also dwelt there, Novalis often visited them, +sometimes for a short, and sometimes for a longer time. His eldest +sister was married about this time, and the wedding was celebrated at a +country seat near Jena. After this marriage Novalis lived for a long +time in a lonely place in the golden meadow of Thuringia, at the foot +of the Kyffhauser mountain; and in this solitude he wrote a great part +of Henry of Ofterdingen. His society this year was mostly confined to +that of two men; a brother-in-law of his betrothed, the present General +von Theilman, and the present General von Funk, to whom he had been +introduced by the former. The society of the last-mentioned person was +valuable to him in more than one respect. He made use of his library, +among whose chronicles he, in the spring, first hit upon the traditions +of Ofterdingen; and by means of the excellent biography of the emperor +Frederick the Second, by General von Funk, he became entirely possessed +with lofty ideas concerning that ruler, and determined to represent him +in his romance as a pattern for a king. + +In the year 1800, Novalis was again at Weissenfels, whence, on the 23d +of February, he wrote to Tieck,--"My Romance is getting along finely. +About twelve printed sheets are finished. The whole plan is pretty much +laid out in my mind. It will consist of two parts; the first, I hope, +will be finished in three weeks. It contains the basis and introduction +to the second part. The whole may be called an Apotheosis of Poesy. +Henry of Ofterdingen becomes in the first part ripe for a poet, and in +the second part is declared poet. It will in many respects be similar +to Sternbald, except in lightness. However, this want will not probably +be unfavorable to the contents. In every point of view it is a first +attempt, the print of that spirit of poesy, which your acquaintance has +reawakened in me, and which gives to your friendship its chief value. + +"There are some songs in it, which suit my taste. I am very much +pleased with the real romance,--my head is really dizzy with the +multitude of ideas I have gathered for romances and comedies. If I can +visit you soon, I will bring you a tale and a fable from my romance, +and will subject them to your criticism." He visited his friends at +Jena the next spring, and soon repeated his visit, bringing the first +part of Henry of Ofterdingen, in the same form as that of which this +volume is a translation. + +When Tieck, in the summer of 1800, left Jena, he visited his friend for +some time at his father's house. He was well and calm in his spirits; +though his family were somewhat alarmed about him, thinking that they +noticed, that he was continually growing paler and thinner. He himself +was more attentive than usual to his diet; he drank little or no wine, +ate scarcely any meat, living principally on milk and vegetables. "We +took daily walks," says Tieck, "and rides on horseback. In ascending a +hill swiftly, or in any violent motion, I could observe neither +weakness in his breast nor short breath, and therefore endeavored to +persuade him to forsake his strict mode of life; because I thought his +abstemiousness from wine and strengthening food not only irritating in +itself, but also to proceed from a false anxiety on his part. He was +full of plans for the future; his house was already put in order, for +in August he intended to celebrate his nuptials. He spake with great +pleasure of finishing Ofterdingen and other works. His life gave +promise of the most useful activity and love. When I took leave of him, +I never could have imagined that we were not to meet again." + +When in August he was about departing for Freiberg to celebrate his +marriage, he was seized with an emission of blood, which his physician +declared to be mere hemorrhoidal and insignificant. Yet it shook his +frame considerably, and still more when it began to return +periodically. His wedding was postponed, and, in the beginning of +October, he travelled with his brother and parents to Dresden. Here +they left him, in order to visit their daughter in Upper Lausatia, his +brother Charles remaining with him in Dresden. He became apparently +weaker; and when, in the beginning of November, he learned that a +younger brother, fourteen years of age, had been drowned through mere +carelessness, the sudden shock caused a violent bleeding at the lungs, +upon which the physician immediately declared his disease incurable. +Soon after this his betrothed came to Dresden. + +As he grew weaker, he longed to change his residence to some warmer +climate. He thought of visiting his friend Herbert; but his physician +advised against such a change, perhaps considering him already too weak +to make such a journey. Thus the year passed away; and, in January +1801, he longed so eagerly to see his parents and be with them once +more, that at the end of the month he returned to Weissenfels. There +the ablest physicians from Leipzig and Jena were consulted, yet his +case grew rapidly worse, although he was perfectly free from pain, as +was the case through his whole illness. He still attended to the duties +of his office, and wrote considerably in his private papers. He also +composed some poems about this time, read the Bible diligently, and +much from the works of Zinzendorf and Lavater. The nearer he approached +his end, the stronger was his hope of recovery; for his cough abated, +and, with the exception of debility, he had none of the feelings of a +sick man. With this hope and longing for life, fresh powers and new +talents seemed to awaken within him; he thought with renewed love of +his projected labors, and undertook to write Henry of Ofterdingen anew. +Once, shortly before his death, he said; "I now begin, for the first +time, to see what true poetry is. Innumerable songs and poems far +different from those I have written awake within me." From the 19th of +March, the day on which Sophia died, he became very perceptibly weaker; +many of his friends visited him, and he was particularly delighted +when, on the 21st of March, his faithful and oldest friend Frederick +Schlegel came to see him from Jena. He conversed much with him, +particularly concerning their mutual labors. During these days his +spirits were good, his nights quiet, and he enjoyed tranquil sleep. +About six o'clock on the morning of the 26th, he asked his brother to +hand him some books, in order to look out certain passages, that he had +in mind; he then ordered his breakfast, and conversed with his usual +vivacity till eight. Towards nine he asked his brother to play for him +on the piano, and soon after fell asleep. Frederick Schlegel soon after +entered the chamber, and found him sleeping quietly. This sleep lasted +till twelve o'clock, at which hour he expired without a struggle; and +unchanged in death his countenance retained the same pleasant +expression, that it exhibited during life. + +Thus died our author before he had finished his nine-and-twentieth +year. In him we may alike love and admire his extensive knowledge and +his philosophical genius, as well as his poetical talents. With a +spirit much in advance of his times, his country might have promised +itself great things of him, had not an untimely death cut him off. Yet +his unfinished writings have already had their influence; many of his +great thoughts will yet inspire futurity; and noble minds and deep +thinkers will be enlightened and set on fire by the sparks of his +spirit. + +Novalis was slender and of fine proportions. He wore his light brown +hair long, hanging over his shoulders in flowing locks, a style less +singular then than now; his brown eye was clear and brilliant, and his +complexion, particularly his forehead, almost transparent. His hands +and feet were rather too large, and had something awkward about them. +His countenance was always serene and benignant. To those, who judge +men by their forwardness, or by their affectation of fashion or +dignity, Novalis was lost in the crowd; but to the practised eye he +appeared beautiful. The outlines and expression of his face resembled +very much those of St. John, as he is represented in the magnificent +picture of A. Dürer, preserved in Nuremberg and München. + +His speech was clear and vivacious. "I never saw him tired," says +Tieck, "even when we continued together till late at night; he only +stopped voluntarily to rest, and then read before he fell asleep." He +knew not what it was to be tired, even in the wearisome companionship +of vulgar minds; for he always found some one, who could impart some +information to him, useful, though apparently insignificant. His +urbanity and sympathy for all made him universally beloved. So skilful +was he in his intercourse with others, that lower minds never felt +their inferiority. Although he preferred to veil the depths of his mind +in conversation, speaking, however, as if inspired, of the invisible +world, he was yet merry, as a child, full of art and frolic, giving +himself wholly up to the jovial spirit prevailing in the company. Free +from self-conceit or arrogance, a stranger to affectation or +dissimulation, he was a pure, true man; the purest, loveliest spirit, +ever tabernacled in the flesh. + +His chief studies for many years were philosophy and physical science. +In the latter he discovered and foretold truths, of which his own age +was in ignorance. In philosophy he principally studied Spinoza and +Fichte; but soon marked out a new path, by aiming to unite philosophy +with religion; and thus what we possess of the writings of the new +Platonists, as well as of the mystics, became very important to him. +His knowledge of mathematics, as well as of the mechanic arts, +especially of mining, was very considerable. But in the fine arts he +took but little interest. Music he loved much, although he knew little +about its rules. He had scarcely turned his attention to painting and +sculpture; still he could advance many original ideas about those arts, +and pronounce skilful judgment upon them. + +Tieck mentions an argument with him, concerning landscape painting, in +which Novalis expressed views, which he could not comprehend; but which +in part were realized, by the rich and poetical mind of the excellent +landscape painter, Friedrichs, of Dresden. In the land of Poetry he was +in reality a stranger. He had read but few poets, and had not busied +himself with criticism, or paid much attention to the inherited system, +to which the art of poetry had been reduced. Goethe was for a long +while his study, and Wilhelm Meister his favorite work; although we +should scarcely suppose so, judging from his severe strictures upon it +in his fragments. He demanded from poesy the most everyday knowledge +and inspiration; and it was for this reason, that, as the chief +masterpieces of poetry were unknown to him, he was free from imitation +and foreign rule. He also loved, for this very reason, many writings, +which are not generally highly prized by scholars, because in them he +discovered, though perhaps painted in weak colors, that very informing +and significant knowledge, which he was chiefly striving after. + +Those tales, which we in later times call allegories[1] with their +peculiar style, most resemble his stories; he saw their deepest +meaning, and endeavored to express it most clearly in some of his +poems. It became natural for him to regard what was most usual and +nearest to him, as full of marvels, and the strange and supernatural as +the usual and common-place. Thus everyday life surrounded him like a +supernatural story; and that region, which most men can only conceive +as something distant and incomprehensible, seemed to him like a beloved +home. Thus uncorrupted by precedents, he discovered a new way of +drawing and exhibiting his pictures; and in the manifold variety of his +relation to the world, from his love and the faith in it, which at the +same time was his instructress, wisdom, and religion, since through +them a single great moment of life, and one deep grief and loss became +the essence of his poesy and of his contemplation, he resembles among +late writers the sublime Dante alone, and like him sings to us an +unfathomable mystical song, very different from that of many imitators, +who think, that they can assume and lay aside mysticism as they could a +mere ornament. Therefore his romance is both consciously and +unconsciously the representation of his own mind and fate; as he makes +Henry say, in the fragment of the second part, "Fate and mind are but +names of one idea." Thus may his life justly appear wonderful to us. We +shudder too, as though reading a work of fiction, when we learn, that +of all his brothers and sisters only two brothers are now alive; and +that his noble mother, who for several years has also been mourning the +death of her husband, is in solitude, devoting herself to her grief and +to religion with silent resignation. + + + + + + + HENRY OF OFTERDINGEN. + + + + + PART FIRST. + + THE EXPECTATION. + + + + + DEDICATION. + + + + Thou didst to life my noble impulse warm, + Deep in the spirit of the world to look. + And with thy hand a trusting faith I took, + Securely bearing me through every storm, + With sweet forebodings thou the child didst bless, + To mystic meadows leading him away, + Stirring his bosom to its finest play, + Ideal, thou, of woman's tenderness. + Earth's vexing trifles shall I not refuse? + Thine is my heart and life eternally,-- + Thy love my being constantly renews! + To art I dedicate myself for thee, + For thou, beloved, wilt become the Muse + And gentle Genius of my poesy. + + In endless transmutation here below + The hidden might of song our land is greeting; + Now blesses us in form of Peace unfleeting, + And now encircles us with childhood's glow. + She pours an upper light upon the eye, + Defines the sentiment for every art, + And dwells within the glad or weary heart, + To comfort it with wondrous ecstasy. + Through her alone I woke to life the truest, + Drinking the proffered nectar of her breast, + And dared to lift my face With joy the newest. + Yet was my highest sense with sleep oppressed. + Till angel-like thou, loved one, near me flewest. + And, kindling in thy look, I found the rest. + + + + + + THE EXPECTATION. + + + + + CHAPTER I. + + +The parents had already retired to rest; the old clock ticked +monotonously from the wall; the windows rattled with the whistling +wind, and the chamber was dimly lighted by the flickering glimmer of +the moon. The young man lay restless on his bed, thinking of the +stranger and his tales. "It is not the treasures," said he to himself, +"that have awakened in me such unutterable longings. Far from me is all +avarice; but I long to behold the blue flower. It is constantly in my +mind, and I can think and compose of nothing else. I have never been in +such a mood. It seems as if I had hitherto been dreaming, or slumbering +into another world; for in the world, in which hitherto I have lived, +who would trouble himself about a flower?--I never have heard of such a +strange passion for a flower here. I wonder, too, whence the stranger +comes? None of our people have ever seen his like; still I know not why +I should be so fascinated by his conversation. Others have listened to +it, but none are moved by it as I am. Would that I could explain my +feelings in words! I am often full of rapture, and it is only when the +blue flower is out of my mind, that this deep, heart-felt longing +overwhelms me. But no one can comprehend this but myself. I might think +myself mad, were not my perception and reasonings so clear; and this +state of mind appears to have brought with it superior knowledge on all +subjects. I have heard, that in ancient times beasts, and trees, and +rocks conversed with men. As I gaze upon them, they appear every moment +about to speak to me; and I can almost tell by their looks what they +would say. There must yet be many words unknown to me. If I knew more, +I could comprehend better. Formerly I loved to dance, now I think +rather to the music." + +The young man gradually lost himself in his sweet fancies, and feel +asleep. Then he dreamed of regions far distant, and unknown to him. He +crossed the sea with wonderful ease; saw many strange monsters; lived +with all sorts of men, now in war, now in wild tumult, and now in +peaceful cottages. Then he fell into captivity and degrading want. His +feelings had never been so excited. His life was an unending tissue, of +the brightest colors. Then came death, a return again to life; he +loved, loved intensely, and was separated from the object of his +passion. At length towards the break of day his soul became calmer, and +the images his fancy formed grew clearer, and more lasting. He dreamed +that he was walking alone in a dark forest, where the light broke only +at intervals through the green net-work of the trees. He soon came to a +passage through some rocks, which led to the top of a neighboring hill, +and, to ascend which he was obliged to scramble over the mossy stones, +which some stream in former times had torn down. The higher he climbed, +the more was the forest lit up, until at last he came to a small meadow +situated on the declivity of the mountain. Behind the meadow rose a +lofty cliff, at whose foot an opening was visible, which seemed to be +the beginning of a path hewn in the rock. The path guided him gently +along, and ended in a wide expanse, from which at a distance a clear +light shone towards him. On entering this expanse, he beheld a mighty +beam of light, which, like the stream from a fountain, rose to the +overhanging clouds, and spread out into innumerable sparks, which +gathered themselves below into a great basin. The beam shone like +burnished gold; not the least noise was audible; a holy silence reigned +around the splendid spectacle. He approached the basin, which trembled +and undulated with ever-varying colors. The sides of the cave were +coated with the golden liquid, which was cool to the touch, and which +cast from the walls a weak, blue light. He dipped his hand in the +basin, and bedewed his lips. He felt as if a spiritual breath had +pierced through him, and he was sensibly strengthened and refreshed. A +resistless desire to bathe himself made him undress and step into the +basin. Then a cloud tinged with the glow of evening appeared to +surround him; feelings as from Heaven flowed into his soul; thoughts +innumerable and full of rapture strove to mingle together within him; +new imaginings, such as never before had struck his fancy, arose before +him, which, flowing into each other, became visible beings about him. +Each wave of the lovely element pressed to him like a soft bosom. The +flood seemed like a solution of the elements of beauty, which +constantly became embodied in the forms of charming maidens around him. +Intoxicated with rapture, yet conscious of every impression, he swam +gently down the glittering stream. A sweeter slumber now overcame him. +He dreamed of many strange events, and a new vision appeared to him. He +dreamed that he was sitting on the soft turf by the margin of a +fountain, whose waters flowed into the air, and seemed to vanish in it. +Dark blue rocks with various colored veins rose in the distance. The +daylight around him was milder and clearer than usual; the sky was of a +sombre blue, and free from clouds. But what most attracted his notice, +was a tall, light-blue flower, which stood nearest the fountain, and +touched it with its broad, glossy leaves. Around it grew numberless +flowers of varied hue, filling the air with the richest perfume. But he +saw the blue flower alone, and gazed long upon it with inexpressible +tenderness. He at length was about to approach it, when it began to +move, and change its form. The leaves increased their beauty, adorning +the growing stem. The flower bended towards him, and revealed among its +leaves a blue, outspread collar, within which hovered a tender face. +His delightful astonishment was increasing with this singular change, +when suddenly his mother's voice awoke him, and he found himself in his +parents' room, already gilded by the morning sun. He was too happy to +be angry at the sudden disturbance of his sleep. He bade his mother a +kind good morning, and returned her hearty embrace. + +"You sleeper," said his father, "how long have I been sitting here +filing? I have not dared to do any hammering on your account. Your +mother would let her dear son sleep. I have been obliged to wait for my +breakfast too. You have done wisely in choosing to become one of the +learned, for whom we wake and work. But a real, thorough student, as I +have been told, is obliged to spend his nights in studying the works of +our wise forefathers." + +"Dear father," said Henry, "let not my long sleep make you angry with +me, for you are not accustomed to be so. I fell asleep late, and have +been much disturbed by dreams. The last, however, was pleasant, and one +which I shall not soon forget, and which seems to me to have been +something more than a mere dream." + +"Dear Henry," said his mother, "you have certainly been lying on your +back, or else your thoughts were wandering at evening prayers. Come, +eat your breakfast, and cheer up." + +Henry's mother went out. His father worked on industriously, and said; +"Dreams are froth, let the learned think what they will of them; and +you will do well to turn your attention from such useless and hurtful +speculations. The times when Heavenly visions were seen in dreams have +long past by, nor can we understand the state of mind, which those +chosen men, of whom the Bible speaks, enjoyed. Dreams, as well as other +human affairs, must have been of a different nature then. In the age in +which we live, there is no direct intercourse with Heaven. Old +histories and writings are now the only fountains, from which we can +draw, as far as is needful, a knowledge of the spiritual world; and +instead of express revelations, the Holy Ghost now speaks to us +immediately through the understandings of wise and sensible men, and by +the lives and fate of those most distinguished for their piety. I have +never been much edified by the visions, which are now seen; nor do I +place much confidence in the wonders, which our divines relate about +them. Yet let every one, who can, be edified by them; I would not cause +any one to err in his faith." + +"But, dear father, upon what grounds are you so opposed to belief in +dreams, when singular changes, and flighty, unstable nature, are at +least worthy of some reflection? Is not every dream, even the most +confused, a peculiar vision, which, though we do not call it sent from +Heaven, yet makes an important rent in the mysterious curtain, which, +with a thousand folds, hides our inward natures from our view? We can +find accounts of many such dreams, coming from credible men, in the +wisest books; and you need only call to mind, to support what I have +said, the dream which our good pastor lately related to us, and which +appeared to you so remarkable. But, without taking those writings into +account, if now for the first time you should have a dream, how would +it overwhelm you, and how constantly would your thoughts be fixed upon +the miracle, which, from its very frequency, now appears such a simple +occurrence. Dreams appear to me to break up the monotony and even tenor +of life, to serve as a recreation to the chained fancy. They mingle +together all the scenes and fancies of life, and change the continual +earnestness of age, into the merry sports of childhood. Were it not for +dreams, we should certainly grow older; and though they be not given us +immediately from above; yet they should be regarded as Heavenly gifts, +as friendly guides, in our pilgrimage to the holy tomb. I am sure that +the dream, which I have had this night, has been no profitless +occurrence in my life; for I feel that it has, like some vast wheel, +caught hold of my soul, and is hurrying me along with it in its mighty +revolutions." + +Henry's father smiled humorously, and said, looking to his wife, who +had just come in, "Henry cannot deny the hour of his birth. His +conversation boils with the fiery Italian wines, which I brought with +me from Rome, and with which we celebrated our wedding eve. I was +another sort of man then. The southern breezes had thawed out my +northern phlegm. I was overflowing with spirit and humor, and you also +were an ardent, charming girl. Everything was arranged at your father's +in grand style; musicians and minstrels were collected from far and +wide, and Augsburg had never seen a merrier marriage." + +"You were just now speaking of dreams," said Henry's mother. "Do you +not remember, that you then told me of one, which you had had at Rome, +and which first put it into your head to come to Augsburg as my +suitor?" + +"You put me opportunely in mind of it," said the old man, "for I had +entirely forgotten that singular dream, which, at the time of its +occurrence, occupied my thoughts not a little; but even that is only a +proof of what I have been saying about dreams. It would be impossible +to have one more clear and regular. Even now I remember every +circumstance in it, and yet, what did it signify? That I dreamed of +you, and soon after felt an irrepressible desire to possess you, was +not strange; for I already knew you. The agreeable and amiable traits +of your character strongly affected me, when I first saw you; and I was +prevented from making love to you, only by the desire of visiting +foreign lands. At the time of the dream my curiosity was much abated; +and hence my love for you more easily mastered me." + +"Please to tell us about that curious dream," said Henry. + +"One evening," said his father, "I had been loitering about, enjoying +the beauty of the clear, blue sky, and of the moon, which clothed the +old pillars and walls with its pale, awe-inspiring light. My companions +had gone to see the girls, and love and homesickness drove me into the +open air. During my walk, I felt thirsty, and went into the first +decent looking mansion I met with, to ask for a glass of wine, or milk. +An old man came to the door, who perhaps at first regarded me as a +suspicious visitor; but when I told him what I wished, and he learned +that I was a foreigner, and a German, he kindly asked me into the +house, bade me sit down, brought out a bottle of wine, and asked me +some questions about my business. We began a desultory conversation, +during which he gave me some information about painters, poets, +sculptors, and ancient times. I had scarce ever heard about such +matters; and it teemed as if I had landed in a new world. He showed me +some old seals and other works of art, and then read to me, with all +the fire of youth, some beautiful passages of poetry. Thus the hours +fled as moments. Even now my heart warms with the recollection of the +wonderful thoughts and emotions, which crowded upon me that evening. He +seemed quite at home in the pagan ages, and longed, with incredible +ardor, to dwell in the times of grey antiquity. At last he showed me a +chamber, where I could pass the night, for it was too late for me to +return to the city. I soon fell asleep and dreamed.--I thought that I +was passing out of the gates of my native city. It seemed to me that I +was going to get something done, but where, and what, I did not know. I +took the road to Hartz, and walked quickly along, as merry as if going +to a festival. I did not keep the road, but cut across through wood and +valley, till I came to a lofty mountain. From its top I gazed on the +golden fields around me, beheld Thuringia in the distance, and was so +situated, that no other mountain could obstruct my view. Opposite lay +the Hartz with its dusky hills. Castles, convents, and whole districts +were embraced in the prospect. My ideas were all clear and distinct. I +thought of the old man, in whose house I was sleeping; and my visit +seemed like some occurrence of past years. I soon saw an ascending path +leading into the mountain, and I followed it. After some time I came to +a large cave; there sat a very old man in a long garment, before an +iron table, gazing incessantly upon a wondrously beautiful maiden, that +stood before him hewn in marble. His beard had grown through the iron +table, and covered his feet. His features were serious, yet kind, and +put me in mind of a head by one of the old masters, which my host had +shown me in the evening. The cave was filled with glowing light. While +I was looking at the old man, my host tapped me on the shoulder, took +my hand, and led me through many long paths, till we saw a mild light +shining in the distance, like the dawn of day. I hastened to it, and +soon found myself in a green plain; but there was nothing about it to +remind me of Thuringia. Giant trees, with their large, glossy leaves, +spread their shade far and wide. The air was very hot, yet not +oppressive. Around me flowers and fountains were springing from the +earth. Among the former there was one that particularly pleased me, and +to which all the others seemed to do homage." + +"Dear father," eagerly exclaimed Henry, "do tell me its color." + +"I cannot recollect it, though it was so fixed in my mind at the time." + +"Was it not blue?" + +"Perhaps it was," continued the old man, without giving heed to the +peculiar vehemence of his son. "All I recollect is, that my feelings +were so wrought up, that for a time I forgot all about my guide. When +at length I turned towards him, I noticed that he was looking at me +attentively, and that he met me with a pleasant smile. I do not +remember how I came from that place. I was again on the top of the +mountain; my guide stood by my side and said, 'You have seen the wonder +of the world. It lies in your power to become the happiest being in the +world, and, besides that, a celebrated man. Remember well what I tell +you. Come on St. John's day, towards evening, to this place, and when +you have devoutly prayed to God to interpret this vision, the highest +earthly lot will be yours. Also take notice particularly of a little +blue flower, which you will find above here; pluck it, and commit +yourself humbly to heavenly guidance.' I then dreamed that I was among +most splendid scenes and noble men, ravished by the swift changing +objects that met my eyes. How fluent were my words! how free my tongue! +How music swelled its strains! Afterwards everything became dull and +insignificant as usual. I saw your mother standing before me, with a +kind and modest look. A bright-looking child was in her arms. She +reached it to me; it gradually grew brighter; at length it raised +itself on its dazzling white wings, took us both in its arms, and +soared so high with us, that the earth appeared like a plate of gold, +covered with beautifully wrought carving. I only recollect, that, after +this vision, the flower, the old man, and the mountain appeared before +me again. I awoke soon after, much agitated by vehement love. I bade +farewell to my hospitable friend, who urged me to repeat my visit +often. I promised to do so, and should have kept my promise, had I not +shortly after left Rome for Augsburg, my mind being much excited by the +scenes I had witnessed." + + + + + CHAPTER II. + + +St. John's day was past. Henry's mother had for a long time delayed +making a journey to Augsburg, her paternal home, to present her son to +his grandfather, who had never yet seen him. Some merchants, trusty +friends of the elder Ofterdingen, were just about travelling to +Augsburg on business. Henry's mother resolved to improve this good +opportunity of fulfilling her wishes; and this more especially, because +she had observed that Henry had lately been more silent, and more taken +up with his own gloomy fancies than usual. She saw that he was out of +spirits, or sick; and thought that a long journey, the sight of strange +people and places, and, as she secretly anticipated, the charms of some +young country girl would drive off the gloomy mood of her son, and make +him as affable and cheerful as was his wont. Her husband agreed with +her in her plans, and Henry was delighted beyond all bounds with the +idea of visiting a country, which, for a long time, he had looked upon +(owing to the many things he had heard concerning it, from his mother +and from travellers) as an earthly Paradise, and in which he had often +wished himself. + +Henry was just twenty years old. He had never passed the environs of +his native city; the world was known to him only by report; only a few +books had come within his reach. The course of life at the Landgrave +was simple and quiet, according to the customs of the times; and the +splendor and comfort of princely life, in those days, could but poorly +compare with the conveniences, which, in our times, a private man can +obtain for himself and family, without extravagance. Yet by reason of +their very scarcity, a regard, almost approaching tenderness, was felt, +in those times, for household furniture, and the conveniences of life. +They were considered more valuable and curious. The secrets of nature, +and the origin of its bodies, hardly attracted the notice of thinking +minds, more than these scarce specimens of art and workmanship. This +regard, too, for these silent companions of life was much heightened, +by the distance from which they were brought, and by that charm of +antiquity which gathered around furniture, often the property of +successive generations; an heir-loom from father to son. They were +often raised to the rank of pledges of a peculiar blessing and destiny; +and the weal of whole kingdoms and far-scattered families depended upon +their preservation. A poverty, fair in its features, adorned that age +with a simplicity, full of significance and innocence. The treasures, +so sparingly scattered in that dawn, shone the more brightly, and gave +rise to many significant ideas in the thoughtful mind. If it is true +that a proper division of light, color, and shade reveals the hidden +splendor of the visible world, and opens for itself a new eye of a +higher character; such a division and splendor were to be seen then; +while these newer and more prosperous times represent the monotonous +and insignificant picture of a common day. In all transitions, as in an +interregnum, it appears as if a higher spiritual power were revealing +itself; and as, upon the surface of our earth, the countries, richest +both in subterraneous and super-terraneous treasures, lie between +wild, inhospitable, hoary rocks, and immense plains; so also a +deep-reflecting, romantic period made its appearance between the rough +ages of barbarism, and the cultivated, enlightened, and wealthy age, +which under a coarse garb conceals a still more beautiful form. Who +does not love to wander at twilight, when the light of day and the deep +shades of night mingle together in deep coloring? On this principle, we +are glad to carry ourselves, in imagination, back to the years when +Henry lived, who now went to meet the new circumstances, which might +encompass him, with a swelling heart. He took leave of his companions +and his instructer, the old and wise preacher, who knew the fertility +of Henry's genius, and who bade him farewell, with a feeling heart and +a silent prayer. The countess was his grandmother. He had often visited +her at Wartburg. He now separated from his protectress, who gave him +good counsel, and a golden chain, and who took leave of him with +expressions of friendship. It was with a sad heart that Henry left his +father and his birthplace. He now experienced for the first time what +separation was. His imaginings as to the journey had not been +accompanied with that peculiar feeling, which now filled his breast, +when, for the first time, the scenes of his youth were snatched from +his view, and he was cast, as it were, upon a foreign shore. Great +indeed is our youthful sorrow at this first experience of the +instability of earthly things, an experience necessary and +indispensable to the inexperienced mind, firmly connected with and +certain as our own existence. Our first separation remains, like the +first announcement of death, never to be forgotten, and becomes, after +it has long terrified us like a nightly vision, when at last joy at the +appearance of anew day decreases, and the longing after a fixed, safer +world increases, a friendly guide and a consoling and familiar idea. It +comforted the young man much, that his mother was with him. The world +he was leaving did not yet appear entirely lost, and he embraced her +with redoubled fondness. It was early in the day, when the travellers +rode from the gates of Eisenach, and the fresh daybreak was favorable +to Henry's excited mood. The clearer the day grew, the more remarkable +seemed to him the new and unknown scenes which surrounded him; and when +upon a hill, just as the landscape behind him was illuminated by the +rays of the rising sun, there occurred to him in the gloomy change of +his thoughts some of the old melodies he knew by heart. He found +himself in the swell of the distance, towards which he had often gazed +from the neighboring mountains, where he had often wished himself in +vain, and which he had painted to himself with peculiar colors. He was +on the point of dipping himself in its blue flood. The wonderful flower +stood before him, and he looked towards Thuringia, which he now left +behind him, with the strong idea, that he was returning to his +fatherland, after long wanderings from the country, towards which they +now were travelling, and as if in reality he was journeying homewards. + +The company, which at first had been silent from similar causes, began +by degrees to wake up, and to shorten the time by various conversation +and stories. Henry's mother felt it her duty to rouse him from the +dreamings, in which she saw him sunken; and began to tell him of her +father's land, of her father's house, and of the pleasant life in +Swabia. The merchants joined in, and confirmed what his mother said. +They praised the hospitality of the old man Swaning, and could not +sufficiently extol the beauteous fair ones of the country of their +travelling companion. + +"You do well," said they, "in taking your son thither. The customs of +your native country are of the most refined and pleasing character. +They know how to attend to what is useful, without despising the +agreeable. Every one endeavors to satisfy his wants in a social and +charming way. The merchant is well treated and respected. The arts and +mechanics are increased and ennobled; work appears easier to the +industrious man, because it helps him to many pleasures, and because, +as a reward for steady industry, he is sure to enjoy the manifold +fruits of various and profitable employments. Money, industry, and +goods reciprocally produce each other, and float along in busy circles. +The country, as well as the cities, flourishes. The more industriously +the day is employed, the more exclusively is the evening devoted to the +charming pleasures drawn from the fine arts, and to social intercourse. +The mind seeks recreation and change; and where could it find it more +proper or more attractive, than in those unchecked diversions, and in +those productions of its noblest power, the power of embodying its +conceptions into realities. Nowhere can you have such sweet singers, or +find such excellent painters, or see in the dancing halls more graceful +movements or lovelier forms. The neighborhood of Switzerland is +distinguished for the ease of its manners and conversation. Your race +adorns society; and without fear of being talked about, can excite by +their charming behavior a lively emulation to chain the attention. The +stern fortitude and the wild jovialty of the men make room for a mild +vivacity and a tender and modest joy, and love in a thousand forms +becomes the leading spirit of their happy companies. Far is it from the +truth, that dissoluteness or unseemly principles are by this course of +conduct developed. It seems as if the evil spirit shunned the approach +of innocent or graceful amusements, and certainly there are in no part +of Germany more irreproachable maidens, or more faithful wives, than in +Swabia. + +"Yes, my young friend, in the clear, warm air of southern Germany you +will soon lay aside your bashfulness; the youthful maidens will soon +render you easy and talkative. Your name alone, as a stranger and as a +relative of the old Swaning, who is the delight of every pleasant +company, will attract the pleasant gaze of the maidens towards you; and +if you follow the will of your grandfather, you will certainly bring to +our native city, as did your father, an ornament in the form of a +lovely woman." + +Henry's mother thanked them with a modest blush, for their +distinguished praise bestowed on her fatherland, and for their good +opinion of her countrywomen. Henry, full of thought, could not help +listening attentively and with heart-felt pleasure to the description +of the land, which he saw before him. + +"Although you do not take up your father's trade," continued the +merchants, "but rather, as we have been told, spend your time in the +pursuit of knowledge, yet you need not become one of the clergy, or +renounce the pleasantest enjoyments of this life. It is bad enough that +all learning is in the hands of an order, so separated from worldly +life, and that the rulers are counselled by such unsociable and really +inexperienced men. In solitude, where they have no share in worldly +affairs, their thoughts must take a useless turn, and cannot be applied +to everyday concerns. In Swabia you can find both wise and experienced +men among the laity, and you need only choose what branch of human +knowledge you prefer; for you cannot want there good teachers and +advisers." + +After a while Henry, whose thoughts had been led by this conversation +to the old court-preacher, said; "Although ignorant as I am of the real +condition of the world, I do not exactly rebel against your opinion, as +to the ability of the clergy to guide and judge of worldly affairs; +yet I hope I may be permitted to put you in mind of our excellent +court-preacher, who certainly is a pattern of a wise man, and whose +instructions and counsels I can never forget." + +"We revere with our whole hearts," replied the merchants, "that +excellent man; but we can agree with your opinion, only so far as you +speak of that wisdom, which concerns a life well pleasing to God. If +you consider him as wise in worldly affairs, as he is experienced and +learned in spiritual concerns, permit us to disagree with you. Yet we +do not believe that the holy man deserves any less praise, because by +the depth of his knowledge of the spiritual world, he is unable to gain +insight into and an understanding of earthly things." + +"But," said Henry, "is it not possible that that higher knowledge would +fit you to guide impartially the reins of human affairs? May it not be +possible that childlike and natural simplicity more safely travels the +road through the labyrinth of human affairs, than that wild, wandering, +and partially restrained wisdom, which considers its own interest, and +which is blinded by the unspeakable variety and perplexity of present +occurrences? I do not know, but it seems to me, that there are two +ways, by which to arrive at a knowledge of the history of man; the one +laborious and boundless, the way of experience; the other apparently +but one leap, the way of internal reflection. The wanderer of the first +must find out one thing from another by wearisome reckoning; the +wanderer of the second perceives the nature of everything and +occurrence directly by their very essence, views all things in their +continually varying connexions, and can easily compare one with +another, like figures on a slate. You will pardon me, that I address +you, as it were, from my childish dreams; nothing could have emboldened +me to speak but my confidence in your kindness, and the remembrance of +my teacher, who for a long time has pointed the second way out to me as +his own." + +"We willingly grant you," said the kind merchants, "that we are not +able to follow your train of thought; yet it pleases us that you so +warmly remember your excellent teacher, and treasure up so well his +lessons. It seems to us that you have a talent for poetry, you speak +your fancies out so fluently, and you are so full of choice expressions +and apt comparisons. You are also inclined to the wonderful,--the +poet's element." + +"I do not know whence it comes," said Henry; "I have heard poets spoken +of before now; but have never yet seen one. I cannot even form an idea +of their curious art; but yet have a great desire to hear about it. I +feel that I wish to know many things, of which dark hints only are in +my mind. I have often heard people speak of poems, but I have never yet +seen one, and my teacher never had occasion to learn the art. Nor have +I been able to comprehend everything that he has told me concerning it. +Yet he always considered it a noble art, to which I would devote myself +entirely, if I should become acquainted with it. In old times it was +much more common than now, and every one had some knowledge of it, +though in different degrees; moreover it was the sister of other arts +now lost. He thought that divine favor had highly honored the +minstrels, so that inspired by spiritual intercourse, they had been +able to proclaim heavenly wisdom upon earth in entrancing tones." + +The merchants then said; "We have in truth not troubled ourselves much +with the secrets of the poets, though we have often listened with +pleasure to their songs. Perhaps it is true that no man is a poet, +unless he is born under a particular star, for there is something +curious in this respect about this art. The other arts are very +different from it, and much easier to comprehend. The secrets of +painters and musicians can much more easily be imagined; and both can +be learned with industry and patience. The sound lies already in the +strings, and ability is all that is wanting, in order to move them, and +stir up each into a delightful harmony. In painting, nature is the best +instructress. She brings forth numberless beautiful and wonderful +forms, gives to them color, light, and shade; and a practised hand, an +exact eye, and a knowledge of the preparation and mixing of colors can +imitate nature to the life. How natural for us then to comprehend the +effect of these arts, and the pleasure derived from their productions. +The song of the nightingale, the whistling of the wind, and the +splendors of light, color, and form please us, because they strike our +senses agreeably; and as our senses are fitted for this by nature, +which also has the same effect, so must the artful imitation of nature +please us also. Nature herself will also draw enjoyment from the power +of art, and thence has she changed into man, and thus she now rejoices +herself over her noble splendors, separates what is agreeable and +lovely, and brings it forth by itself in such a way, that she can +possess and enjoy it in all ways and at all times and places. In the +art of poetry, on the contrary, there is nothing tangible to be met +with. It creates nothing with tools and hands. The eye and the ear +perceive it not; for the mere hearing of the words has no real +influence in this secret art. It is all internal; and as other artists +fill the external senses with agreeable emotions, so in like manner the +poet fills the internal sanctuary of the mind with new, wonderful, and +pleasing thoughts. He knows how to awaken at pleasure the secret powers +within us, and by words gives us force to see into an unknown and +glorious world. Ancient and future times, innumerable men, strange +countries, and the most singular events rise up within us, as from deep +hiding places, and tear us away from the known present. We hear strange +words and know not their import. The language of the poet stirs, up a +magic power; even ordinary words flow forth in charming melody, and +intoxicate the fast-bound listener." + +"You change every curiosity into ardent impatience," said Henry. "I +cannot hear enough of these strange men. It seems to me all at once, as +if I had heard them spoken of somewhere in my earliest youth; but I can +remember nothing more about it. But what you have said to me is very +clear and easy to comprehend, and you give me great pleasure by your +beautiful descriptions." + +"It is with pleasure," continued the merchants, "that we have looked +back upon the many pleasant hours we have spent in Italy, France, and +Swabia in the society of minstrels, and we are glad that you take so +lively an interest in our discourse about them. In travelling through +so many mountains, there is a double delight in conversation, and the +time passes pleasantly away. Perhaps you would be pleased to hear some +of the pretty tales concerning poets, that we have learned in our +travels. Of the poems themselves, which we have heard, we can say but +little, both because the pleasure and charm of the moment prevent the +memory from retaining much; and because our constant occupations in +business destroy many such recollections. + +"In olden times, all nature must have been more animate and spiritual +than now. Operations, which now animals scarcely seem to notice, and +which men alone in reality feel and enjoy, then put animate bodies into +motion; and it was thus possible for men of art to perform wonders and +produce appearances, which now seem wholly incredible and fabulous. +Thus it is said that there were poets in very ancient times, in the +regions of the present Greek empire, (as travellers, who have +discovered these things by traditions among the common people there, +have informed us,) who by the wonderful music of their instruments +stirred up a secret life in the woods, those spirits hidden in their +trunks; who gave life to the dead seeds of plants in waste and desert +regions, and called blooming gardens into existence; who tamed savage +beasts, and accustomed wild men to order and civilization; who brought +forth the tender affections, and the arts of peace, changed raging +floods into mild waters, and even tore away the rocks in dancing +movements. They are said to have been at the same time soothsayers and +priests, legislators and physicians, whilst even the spirits above were +drawn down by their bewitching song, and revealed to them the mysteries +of futurity, the balance and natural arrangement of all things, the +inner virtues and healing powers of numbers, of plants, and of all +creatures. Then first appeared the varied melody, the peculiar harmony +and order, which breathe through all nature; while before all was in +confusion, wild and hostile. And here one thing is to be noticed; that +although these beautiful traces for the recollection of these men +remain, yet has their art, or their delicate sensibility to the +beauties of nature been lost. Among other occurrences, it once happened +that one of this peculiar class of poets or musicians,--although music +and poetry may be considered as pretty much the same thing, like mouth +and ear, of which the first is only a movable and answering ear,--that +once this poet wished to cross the sea to a foreign land. He had with +him many jewels and costly articles, which he had received as tributes +of gratitude. He found a ship ready to sail, and easily agreed upon a +price for his passage. But the splendor and beauty of his treasures so +excited the avarice of the sailors, that they resolved among themselves +to take him, throw him overboard, and afterwards to divide his goods +with each other. Accordingly, when they were far from land, they fell +upon him, and told him that he must die, because they had resolved to +cast him into the sea. He begged them to spare his life in the most +touching terms, offered them his treasures as a ransom, and prophesied +that great misfortunes would overtake them, should they take his life. +But they were not to be moved, being fearful lest he should sometime +reveal their wickedness. When he saw at last that their resolution was +taken, he prayed them that at least they would suffer him to play his +swan song, after which he would willingly plunge into the sea, with his +poor, wooden instrument, before their eyes. They knew very well that, +should they once hear his magic song, their hearts would be softened +and overwhelmed with repentance; therefore they granted his last +request indeed, but stopped their ears, that not hearing his song, they +might abide by their resolution. Thus it happened. The minstrel began a +beautiful song, pathetic beyond conception. The whole ship accorded, +the waters resounded, the sun and the stars appeared at once in the +sky, and the inhabitants of the deep issued from the green flood about +them, in dancing hosts. The people of the ship stood alone by +themselves, with hostile intent waiting impatiently for the end of his +song. It was soon finished. Then the minstrel plunged with serene brow +down the dark abyss, carrying with him his wonder-working instrument. +Scarcely had he touched the glittering wave, when a monster of the deep +rose up beneath him, and quickly bore the astonished minstrel away. It +swam directly to the shore whither he had been journeying, and landed +him gently among the rushes. The poet sang a song of gratitude to his +saviour, and joyfully went his way. Sometime after the occurrence of +these events, he again visited the seashore, and lamented in sweetest +tones his lost treasures, which had been dear to him as remembrances of +happier hours, and as tokens of love and gratitude. While he was thus +singing, his old friend came swimming joyfully through the waves, and +rolled from his back upon the sand the long-lost treasures. The +boatmen, after the minstrel had leaped into the sea, began immediately +to divide the spoil. During the division a murderous quarrel arose +between them, which cost many of them their lives. The few that +remained were not able to navigate the vessel; it struck the shore and +foundered. They with difficulty saved their lives, and reached the +beach with torn garments and empty hands. Thus by the aid of the +grateful sea-monster, who had gathered them up from the bottom of the +sea, the treasures came into the hands of their original possessor." +[See Note I. at the end.] + + + + + CHAPTER III. + + +There is another story, continued the merchants after a pause, +certainly less wonderful and taken from later times, which yet may +please you and give you a clearer insight into the operations of that +wonderful art. There was once an old king, whose court was the most +splendid of his age. People streamed thither from far and near, in +order to share in the splendor of his mode of life. There was not +wanting the greatest abundance of costly delicacies at his daily +entertainments. There was music, splendid decorations, a thousand +different dramatic representations, with other amusements to pass away +the time. Nor did intellect fail to be represented there in the persons +of sage, pleasant, and learned men, who added to the entertainment and +inspiration of the conversation. Finally, there were added many chaste +and beautiful youth of both sexes, who constituted the real soul of the +charming festivals. The old king, otherwise a strict and stern man, +entertained two inclinations, which were the true causes of the +splendor of his court, and to which it owed its thanks for its +beautiful arrangement. The first of these inclinations was his love for +his daughter, who was infinitely dear to him, as a pledge of the love +of his wife, who had died in her youth, and to whom, for her marvellous +loveliness, he would have sacrificed all the treasures of nature, and +all the powers of human minds, in order to create for her a heaven upon +earth. The other was a real passion for poesy and her masters. He had +from his youth read the works of the poets with heart-felt delight, and +had spent much labor and great sums of money in the collection of the +poetical works of every tongue, and the society of minstrels was +especially dear to him. He invited them from all quarters to his court, +and loaded them with honors. He never grew wearied with their songs, +and for the sake of some new and splendid production often forgot the +most important business affairs, and even the necessaries of life. +Amidst such strains had his daughter grown up, and her soul became, as +it were, a tender song, the artless expression of longing and of +sadness. The beneficent influence, which the protected and honored +poets exerted, showed itself through the whole land, but particularly +at the court. Life, like some precious potion, was enjoyed in lingering +and gentle draughts, and in its purer pleasures; because all low and +hateful passions were shunned, as jarring discords to the harmony which +ruled all minds. Peace of soul, and beautiful contemplations of a +self-created happy world, had become the possession of this wonderful +time, and dissension appeared only in the old legends of the poets, as +a former enemy of man. It seemed as if the spirits of song could have +given no lovelier token of their gratitude to their protector, than his +daughter, who possessed all that the sweetest imagination could unite +in the tender form of a fair maiden. When you beheld her at the +beautiful festivals, amid a band of charming companions in glittering +white dress, intensely listening to the rival songs of the inspired +minstrels, and with blushes placing the fragrant garland around the +locks of the happy one, who had won the prize, you would have taken her +for the beautiful and embodied spirit of this art, conspiring with its +magic language; and you would cease to wonder at the ecstasies and +melodies of the poets. + +Yet a mysterious fate seemed to be at work in the midst of this earthly +paradise; The sole concern of the people of that country was about the +marriage of the blooming princess, upon which the continuation of their +blissful times, and the fate of the whole land, depended. The king was +growing old. This care lay heavy at his heart; and yet no opening for +marriage showed itself, that was agreeable to the wishes of all. A holy +reverence for the royal family forbade any subject to harbor the idea +of proposing for the hand of the princess. She was hardly regarded as a +creature of this earth, and all the princes, who had appeared at court +with proposals, seemed so inferior to her, that no one thought that the +princess or the king could fix their eye on any one of them. A sense of +inferiority had by degrees deterred any suitors from visiting the +court, and the wide-spread report of the excessive pride of the royal +family seemed to take away from all others the desire to see themselves +equally humbled. Nor was this report entirely without foundation. The +king, with all his mildness of disposition, had almost unconsciously +imbibed a feeling of lofty superiority, which rendered every thought of +a connexion of his daughter with a man of lower rank and obscurer +origin unendurable and impossible to be entertained. Her high and +unparalleled worth had heightened this feeling within him. He was +descended from a very old royal family of the East. His consort had +been the last of the descendants of the renowned hero Rustan. His +minstrels continually sang to him of his relationship to those +superhuman beings, who formerly ruled the world. In the magic mirror of +their art the difference between the origin of his family and that of +other men, and the splendor of his descent, appeared yet clearer, so +that it seemed to him that he was connected with the rest of the human +family through the nobler class of the poets alone. He looked around in +vain for a second Rustan, whilst he felt that the heart of his blooming +daughter, the situation of his kingdom, and his increasing age rendered +her marriage, in all points of view, most desirable. Not far from the +capital, there lived, upon a retired country-seat, an old man, who +occupied himself exclusively with the education of his only son, except +that he occasionally assisted the country people by his advice in cases +of dangerous sickness. The young man was of a serious disposition, and +devoted himself exclusively to the study of nature, in which his father +had instructed him from childhood. The old man many years before had +arrived from a distance at this peaceful and blooming region, and was +content while enjoying the beneficent peace, which the king had spread +abroad through this retreat. He took advantage of this peace to search +into the powers of nature, and impart the piecing knowledge to his son, +who gave evidence of much talent for the pursuit, and to whose +penetrating mind nature willingly confided her secrets. Without a lofty +power of understanding, the secret expression of his noble face, and +the peculiar brilliancy of his eyes, you would have called the +appearance of this youth ordinary and insignificant. But the longer you +gazed upon him, the more attractive he became; and you could scarcely +tear yourself from him, when you had once beard his soft impressive +voice, and the utterances which his glorious talents prompted. One day, +the princess, whose pleasure-garden adjoined the forest, which +concealed the country house of the old man in a little valley, had +betaken herself thither alone on horseback, that she might follow out +her fancies undisturbed, and sing to herself her favorite songs. The +fresh air of the lofty trees enticed her gradually deeper into their +shade, until at last she came to the house where the old man lived with +his son. Happening to feel thirsty, she alighted, fastened the horse to +a tree, and stepped into the house, to ask for a glass of milk. The son +was present, and was well nigh confounded by the enchanting appearance +of a majestic female form, which seemed almost immortal, adorned as it +was by all the charms of youth and beauty, and by that indescribable +fascinating transparency, revealing the tender, innocent, and noble +soul. While he hastened to gratify her desire, the old man addressed +her with modest respect, and invited her to be seated at their simple +hearth, which was placed in the middle of the house, and on which there +glimmered noiselessly a light blue flame. Immediately on entering, the +princess was struck with the varied ornaments of the room, the order +and cleanliness of the whole, and the peculiar sanctity of the place; +and her impression was heightened yet more by the venerable appearance +of the old man, poorly clad as he was, and by the modest behavior of +the son. The former recognised her immediately as a lady of the court, +judging this from her costly dress and noble carriage. While the son +was absent, the princess asked him about some curiosities which had +caught her eye, and especially concerning some old and singular +pictures, which stood at her side over the hearth, and which he kindly +undertook to explain to her. The son soon returned with a pitcher of +fresh milk, which he artlessly and respectfully handed her. After some +interesting conversation with the hosts, she gracefully thanked them +for their hospitality, and with blushes asked the old man's permission +to visit his house again, that she might enjoy his instructive +conversation concerning his wonderful curiosities. She then rode back +without having divulged her rank, as she noticed that neither the +father nor the son knew her. Although the capital was situated thus +near, they were both so buried in their studies, that they strove to +shun the busy world; and the young man had never been seized with the +desire of being present at the festivities of the court. He had never +been accustomed to leave his father alone for more than an hour at the +utmost, while roaming through the woods searching for insects and +plants, and sharing the inspiration of the mute spirit of nature +through the influence of its various outward charms. The simple +occurrences of this day were equally important to the old man, the +princess, and the youth. The first easily perceived the novel and deep +impression, which the unknown lady had made upon his son. He knew his +character perfectly, and was fully aware that such a deep impression +would last as long as his life. His youth, and the nature of his heart, +would of necessity render the first feeling of this nature an +unconquerable passion. The old man had for a long time looked forward +to such an occurrence. The exceeding loveliness of the stranger excited +an involuntary sympathy in the soul of his son, and his unsuspicious +mind harbored no troublesome anxiety about the issue of this singular +adventure. The princess had never been conscious of experiencing such +emotions as arose in her mind, while riding slowly homeward. She could +form no exact idea of the curiously mixed, wondrously stirring feelings +of a new existence. A magical veil was spread in wide folds over her +clear consciousness. It seemed to her that, when it should be +withdrawn, she would find herself in a more spiritual world than this. +The recollection of the art of poetry, which hitherto had occupied her +whole soul, seemed now like a far distant song, connecting her +peculiarly delightful dream with the past. When she reached the palace, +she was almost frightened at its varied splendor, and yet more at the +welcome of her father, for whom for the first time in her life she +experienced a distant respect. She thought it impossible for her to +mention her adventure to him. Her other companions were too much +accustomed to her reveries, and her deep abstractions of thought and +fancy, to notice anything extraordinary in her conduct. She seemed now +to lose some of her affable sweetness of disposition. She felt as if +she were among strangers, and a peculiar anxiety harassed her until +evening, when the joyful song of some minstrel, who chanted the praises +of hope, and sang with magic inspiration of the wonders which follow +faith in the fulfilment of our wishes, filled her with consolation, and +lulled her with the sweetest dreams. + +As soon as the princess had taken leave, the youth plunged into the +forest. He had followed her among the bushes as far as the garden gate, +and then sought to return by the road. As he was walking along, he saw +some bright object shining before his feet. He stooped and picked up a +dark red stone, one side of which was wonderfully brilliant, and the +other was graved with ciphers. He knew it to be a costly carbuncle, and +thought that he had observed it in the middle of the necklace which the +unknown lady wore. He hastened with winged footsteps home, as if she +were yet there, and brought the stone to his father. They decided that +the son should return next morning to the road, and see whether any one +was sent to look for it; if not, they would keep it till they received +a second visit from the lady, and then return it to her. The young man +passed much of the night gazing at the carbuncle, and felt towards +morning irresistibly inclined to write a few words upon the paper in +which he wrapt it. He hardly knew himself the meaning of the words +which he wrote: + + A mystic token deeply graved is beaming + Within the glowing crimson of the stone, + Like to a heart, that, lost in pleasant dreaming, + Keepeth the image of the fair unknown. + A thousand sparks around the gem are streaming, + A softened radiance in the heart is thrown; + From that, the light's indwelling essence darts. + But ah, will this too have the heart of hearts? + +As soon as the morning dawned, he took his way in haste to the garden +gate. + +In the mean while the princess in undressing on the previous evening, +had missed the jewel from her necklace. It was a memento from her +mother, and moreover a talisman, the possession of which insured to her +the liberty of her person, since with it she could never fall into +another's power against her will. + +This loss surprised more than it frightened her. She remembered that +she had it the day before when riding, and was quite certain that it +was lost, either in the house of the old man, or on the way back +through the woods. She still remembered the exact road she had taken, +and concluded to go in search of it as soon as the day should break. +This idea caused her so much joy, that it seemed as if she was not at +all sorry for her loss, in the good pretence it gave to take the same +road once more. At daybreak she passed through the garden to the +forest; as she walked with unwonted speed, it was natural that her +bosom should feel oppressed, and her heart beat faster than usual. The +sun was beginning to gild the tops of the old trees, which moved with a +gentle whispering, as if they would waken each other from their drowsy +night-faces, in order to greet the sun together; when the princess, +startled by a rustling at some distance, looked down the road, and saw +the young man hastening towards her. He at the same time observed her. + +He remained a while standing as if enchained, and gazed fixedly upon +her, as if to assure himself that her appearance was real and no +illusion. They greeted each other with subdued expressions of joy at +their meeting, as if they had long known and loved each other. Before +the princess could explain to him the reason of her early walk, he +handed her with blushes and a beating heart the stone in the inscribed +billet. It seemed as if the princess anticipated the meaning of the +lines. She took the billet silently and with a trembling hand, and +almost unconsciously hung a golden chain, which she wore about her +neck, upon him, as a reward for his fortunate discovery. He knelt +abashed before her, and could hardly find words to answer her inquiries +about his father. She told him in a half whisper, and with downcast +eyes, that she would with pleasure soon visit them again, and take +advantage of his father's promise to make her acquainted with his +curiosities. + +She thanked the young man again with unusual feeling, and returned +slowly on her way without once looking back. The youth was speechless. +He bowed respectfully and gazed after her for a long time, until she +vanished behind the trees. In a few days she visited them again, and +after this her visits became frequent. The youth by degrees became the +companion of her walks. He accompanied her from the garden at an +appointed hour, and escorted her back again. She observed a strict +silence with respect to her rank, confiding as she otherwise was to her +attendant, from whom no thought of her heavenly soul was ever hidden. +The loftiness of her descent seemed to pour a secret fear into her. The +young man gave up to her likewise his whole soul. Both father and son +considered her a maiden of quality from the court. She clung to the old +man with the tenderness of a daughter. Her caresses lavished upon him +were the rapturous prophets of her tenderness towards his son. She was +soon perfectly at home in the wonderful house; and while she sang to +her lute her charming song with an unearthly voice, the old man and the +son sitting at her feet, the latter of whom she instructed in the +divine art; she learned on the other hand from his inspired lips the +solution of those riddles, which everywhere abound in the secrets of +nature. He taught her how by a mysterious sympathy the world had +arisen, and the stars been united in their harmonious order. The +history of the past became clear to her mind from his holy fables; and +how delightful it became, when in the height of his inspiration her +scholar seized the lute, and broke out with incredible skill into the +most admirable songs. One day, when seized by a peculiar romance of +feeling, she was in his company, and her powerful, long-cherished love +overcame at returning her customary, maiden timidity; they both almost +unconsciously sank into each other's arms, and the first glowing kiss +melted them into one forever. As the sun was setting, the roaring of +the trees gave notice of a mighty tempest. Threatening thunder-clouds +with their deep, night-like darkness gathered over them. The young man +hastened to carry his charge in safety from the fearful hurricane and +the crashing branches. But through the darkness and his fear for his +beloved, he missed the road, and plunged deeper and deeper into the +forest. His fear increased when he perceived his mistake. The princess +thought of the terror of the king and of the court. An unutterable +anxiety pierced at times like a consuming ray into her soul; and the +voice of her lover, who continually spoke consolation to her heart, +alone restored courage and confidence, and eased her oppressed bosom. + +The storm raged on; all endeavors to find the road were in vain, and +they both thought themselves fortunate, when, by a flash of lightning, +they discovered a cave near at hand on the declivity of a woody hill, +where they hoped to find a safe refuge from the dangers of the tempest, +and a resting place from their fatigue. Fortune realized their wishes. +The cave was dry and overgrown with clean moss. The young man quickly +lighted a fire of brushwood and moss, by which they could dry their +garments; and the two lovers saw themselves thus strangely separated +from the world, saved from a dangerous situation, and alone at each +other's side in a warm and comfortable shelter. + +A wild almond branch, loaded with fruit, hung down into the cave; and a +neighboring stream of trickling water quenched their thirst. The youth +had preserved his lute; and now they were entertained by its consoling +and cheering music, as they sat by the crackling fire. A higher power +seemed to have taken upon itself to loosen the knot more quickly, and +to have brought them under peculiar circumstances into this romantic +situation. The innocence of their hearts, the magic harmony of their +minds, the united, irresistible power of their sweet passion, and their +youth, soon made them forget the world and their relations to it, and +lulled them, under the bridal song of the tempest and the nuptial +torches of the lightning, into the sweetest intoxication, by which a +mortal couple ever has been blessed. The break of the light blue +morning was to them the awakening of a new, blissful world. +Nevertheless a stream of hot tears, which soon gushed forth from the +eyes of the princess, revealed to her lover the thousand-fold +anxieties, which were awakening in her heart. In one night he had grown +old in years, and had passed from youth to manhood. With an inspiring +enthusiasm, he consoled his mistress, reminded her of the holiness of +true love, and of the high faith which it inspired, and prayed her to +look forward with confidence from the good spirit of her heart to the +brightest future. The princess felt that his consolation was founded on +truth, revealed to him that she was the daughter of the king, and that +she feared only on account of the pride and anxiety of her father. +After mature consideration, they concluded what course to pursue, and +the young man immediately started to seek his father, and to make him +acquainted with their plan. He promised to be with her again soon, and +left her lost in sweet imaginings of what would be the issue of these +occurrences. The youth soon reached the dwelling of his father, who was +right glad to see his son return to him in safety. He listened to the +story and the plans of the lovers, and seemed willing to assist them. +His house was retired, and contained some subterraneous chambers, which +could not easily be discovered. Here the princess was to dwell. She was +brought thither at twilight, and received by the old man with deep +emotion. She afterwards often wept in her solitude, when her thoughts +reverted to her mourning father; yet she concealed her grief from her +lover, and told it only to the old man, who consoled her kindly, and +painted to her imagination her early return to her father. + +In the mean time the court had fallen into the greatest alarm, when, at +evening, the princess was missing. The king was entirely beside +himself, and sent people in every direction to seek her. No man could +explain her absence. No one mistrusted that she was entangled in a love +affair, and therefore an elopement was not thought of. Moreover no +other person of the court was missing, nor was there any cause for the +remotest suspicion. The messengers returned without having accomplished +anything, and the king sank into the deepest dejection. It was only at +evening, when his minstrels came before him, bringing with them their +beautiful songs, that his former pleasure appeared renewed to him; his +daughter seemed near him, and he conceived the hope that he should soon +behold her again. But when he was again alone, his heart seemed like to +break, and he wept aloud. Then he thought within himself; "of what +advantage to me now is all this splendor and my high birth? Without +her, even these songs are mere words and delusions. She was the charm +that gave them life and joy, power and form. Would rather that I were +the lowest of my subjects. Then my daughter would still be with me; +perhaps also I should have a son-in-law, and my grandson would sit upon +my knees; then indeed I should be another king than I am now. It is not +the crown or the kingdom that makes the king; it is the full, +overflowing feeling of happiness, the satiety of earthly possessions, +the consciousness of perfect satisfaction and content. In this way am I +now punished for my pride. The loss of my wife did not sufficiently +humble me; but now my misery is boundless." Thus complained the king in +his hours of ardent longing. Yet at times his old austerity and pride +broke forth. He was angry with his own complaints; he would endure and +be silent as becomes a king. He thought even then that he suffered more +than all others, and that royalty was burdened with heavy care; but +when it became darker, and stepping into the chamber of his daughter he +beheld her clothes hanging there, and her little effects scattered +around, as if she had but a moment before left the chamber; then he +forgot his resolutions, exhibited all the gestures of sorrow, and +called upon his lowest servant for sympathy. All the city and country +wept and condoled with him, with their whole hearts. It is worthy of +remark, that it was noised abroad that the princess yet lived, and +would soon return with a husband. No one knew whence this report arose; +but every one clung to it with joyous belief, and awaited her return +with impatient expectation. Thus several months passed on, until spring +again drew nigh. "What will you wager," said some of sanguine +disposition, "that the princess will not return also?" Even the king +grew more serene and hopeful. The report seemed to him like a promise +from some kind power. The accustomed festivals were again renewed, and +nought seemed wanting but the princess to fill up the bloom of their +former splendor. One evening, exactly a year from the time when she +disappeared, the whole court was assembled in the garden. The air was +warm and serene; and no sound was heard but that of the gentle wind in +the tops of the old trees, announcing, as it were, the approach of some +far off joy. A mighty fountain, arising amid the torches, which with +their innumerable lights relieved the duskiness of the sighing +tree-tops, accompanied the varied songs with melodious murmurs sounding +through the forest. The king sat upon a costly carpet, and the court in +festal dress was gathered around him. The multitude filled the garden, +and encircled the splendid scene. The king at this moment was sitting +plunged in profound thought. The image of his lost daughter appeared +before him with unwonted clearness. He thought of the happy days, which +ended with the last year about that time. A burning desire overpowered +him, and the tears flowed fast down his venerable cheeks; yet he +experienced a hope, as clear as it was unusual. It seemed as if the +past year of sorrow were but a heavy dream, and he raised his eyes as +if seeking her lofty, holy, captivating form amidst the people and the +trees. The minstrel had just ended, and deep silence gave evidence of +deep emotion; for the poets had sung of the joys of meeting, of spring, +and of the future, as hope is accustomed to adorn them. + +The silence was suddenly interrupted by the low sound of an unknown but +beautiful voice, which seemed to proceed from an aged oak. All looks +were directed towards it, and a young man in simple, but peculiar +dress, was seen standing with a lute upon his arm. He continued his +song, yet saluted the king, as he turned his eyes towards him, with a +profound, bow. His voice was remarkably fine, and the song of a nature +strange and wonderful. He sang the origin of the world, the stars, +plants, animals, and men, the all-powerful sympathy of nature; the +remote age of gold, and its rulers Love and Poesy; the appearance of +hatred and barbarism, and their battles with these beneficient +goddesses; and finally, the future triumph of the latter, the end of +affliction, the renovation of nature, and the return of an eternal +golden age. Even, the old minstrels, wrapped in ecstasy, drew nearer to +the singular stranger. A charm, they had never before felt, seized all +listeners, and the king was carried away in feeling, as upon a tide +from Heaven. Such music had never before been heard. All thought that a +heavenly being had appeared among them; and especially so, because the +young man appeared, during his song, continually to grow more beautiful +and resplendent, and his voice more powerful. The gentle wind played +with his golden locks. The lute in his hands seemed inspired, and +it was as if his intoxicated gaze pierced into a secret world. The +child-like innocence and simplicity of his face appeared to all +transcendant. Now the glorious strain was finished. The elder poets +pressed the young man to their bosoms with tears of joy. A silent +inward exultation shot through the whole assembly. The king, filled +with emotion, approached him. The young man threw himself reverently at +his feet. The king raised him up, embraced him, and bade him ask for +any gift. Then, with glowing cheeks he prayed the king to listen to +another song, and to decide as to his request. The king stepped a few +paces back, and the young stranger began:-- + + Through many a rugged, thorny pass, + With tattered robe, the minstrel wends; + He toils through flood and deep morass, + Yet none a helping hand extends. + Now lone and pathless, overflows + With bitter plaint his wearied heart; + Trembling beneath his lute he goes, + And vanquished by a deeper smart. + + There is to me a mournful lot, + Deserted quite I wander here;-- + Delight and peace to all I brought, + But yet to share them none are near. + To human life, and everything + That mortals have, I lent a bliss; + Yet all, with slender offering + My heart's becoming claim dismiss. + + They calmly let me take my leave, + As spring is seen to wander on; + And none she gladdens, ever grieve + When quite dejected she hath gone. + For fruits they covetously long, + Nor wist she sows them in her seed; + I make a heaven for them in song, + Yet not a prayer enshrines the deed. + + With joy I feel that from above + Weird spirits to these lips are bann'd, + O, that the magic tie of love + Were also knitted to my hand! + But none regard the pilgrim lone, + Who needy came from distant isles; + What heart will pity yet his own, + And quench his grief in winning smiles? + + The lofty grass is waving, where + He sinks with tearful cheeks to rest; + But thither winnowing the air, + Song-spirits seek his aching breast; + Forgetting now thy former pain, + Its burden early cast behind,-- + What thou in huts hast sought in vain, + Within the palace wilt thou find. + + Awaiteth thee a high renown, + The troubled course is ending now; + The myrtle-wreath becomes a crown, + Hands truest place it on thy brow. + A tuneful heart by nature shares + The glory that surrounds a throne; + Up rugged steps the poet fares, + And straight becomes the monarch's son. + +So far he had proceeded in his song, and wonder held the assembly +spell-bound; when, during these stanzas, an old man with a veiled +female of noble stature, carrying in her arms a child of wondrous +beauty, who playfully eyed the assembly, and smilingly outstretched its +little hands after the diadem of the king, made their appearance and +placed themselves behind the minstrel. But the astonishment was +increased, when the king's favorite eagle, which was always about his +person, flew down from the tops of the trees with a golden headband, +which he must have stolen from the king's chamber, and hovered over the +head of the young man, so that the band fastened itself around his +tresses. The stranger was frightened for a moment; the eagle flew to +the side of the king, and left the band behind. The young man now +handed it to the child, who reached after it; and sinking upon one knee +towards the king, continued his song with agitated voice:-- + + From fairy dreams the minstrel flies + Abroad, impatient and elate; + Beneath the lofty trees he hies + Toward the stately palace-gate. + Like polished steel the walls oppose, + But over swiftly climb his strains; + And seized by love's delicious throes, + The monarch's child the singer gains. + + They melt in passionate embrace, + But clang of armor bids them flee; + Within a nightly refuge place + They nurse the new-found ecstasy. + In covert timidly they stay, + Affrighted by the monarch's ire; + And wake with every dawning day + At once to grief and glad desire. + + Hope is the minstrel's soft refrain, + To quell the youthful mother's tears; + When lo, attracted by the strain, + The king within the cave appears. + The daughter holds in mute appeal + The grandson with his golden hair; + Sorrowed and terrified they kneel, + And melts his stern resolve to air. + + And yieldeth too upon the throne + To love and song a Father's breast; + With sweet constraint he changes soon + To ceaseless joy the deep unrest. + With rich requital love returns + The peace it lately would destroy, + And mid atoning kisses burns + And blossoms an Elysian joy. + + Spirit of Song! oh, hither come, + And league with love again to bring + The exiled daughter to her home, + To find a father in the king! + To willing bosom may he press + The mother and her pleading one, + And yielding all to tenderness, + Embrace the minstrel as his son. + +The young man, on uttering these words, which softly swelled through +the dark paths, raised with trembling hand the veil. The princess, her +eyes streaming with tears, fell at the feet of the king, and reached to +him the beauteous child. The minstrel knelt with bowed head at her +side. An anxious silence seemed to hold the breath of every one +suspended. For a few moments the king remained grave and speechless; +then he took the princess to his bosom, pressed her to himself with a +warm embrace, and wept aloud. He also raised the young man, and +embraced him with heart-felt tenderness. Exulting joy flew through the +assembly, which began to crowd eagerly around them. Taking the child, +the king raised it towards Heaven with touching devotion; and then +kindly greeted the old man. Countless tears of joy were shed. The poets +burst forth in song, and the night became a sacred festive eve of +promise to the whole land, where life henceforth was but one delightful +jubilee. No one can tell whither that land has fled. Tradition only +whispers us that mighty floods have snatched Atlantis from our eyes. + + + + + CHAPTER IV. + + +Several days' journey was accomplished without the least interruption. +The road was hard and dry, the weather refreshing and serene, and the +countries, through which they passed, fertile, inhabited, and +continually varied. The fertile Thuringian forest lay behind them. The +merchants, who had often travelled by the same road, were acquainted +with the people, and experienced everywhere the most hospitable +reception. They avoided the retired regions, and such as were infested +with robbers, or took a sufficient escort for their protection, when +obliged to travel through them. Many proprietors of the neighboring +castles were on good terms with the merchants. The latter visited them, +seeking orders for Augsburg. Much friendly hospitality was shown them, +and the old ladies with their daughters pressed around them with hearty +curiosity. Henry's mother immediately won their affection by her +good-natured complaisance and sympathy. They were rejoiced to see a +lady from the capital, who was willing to tell them new fashions, and +who taught them the recipes for many pleasant dishes. The young +Ofterdingen was praised by knights and ladies, on account of his +modesty and artless, mild behavior. The ladies lingered, too, with +pleasure upon his captivating form, which resembled the simple word of +some Unknown, which perhaps one scarcely regards, until, long after he +has gone, it gradually opens its bud, and at length presents a +beautiful flower in all the colored splendor of deeply interwoven +leaves, so that one never forgets it, nor is ever wearied of its +remembrance, but finds in it an exhaustless and ever-present treasure. +We now begin to divine the Unknown more exactly; and our presages take +form, till at once it becomes clear, that he was an inhabitant of a +higher world. The merchants received many orders, and parted from their +hosts with mutual hearty wishes, that they might see each other soon +again. In one of these castles, where they arrived towards evening, the +people were enjoying themselves right jovially. The lord of the castle +was an old soldier, who celebrated and interrupted the leisure of +peace, and the solitude of his situation, with frequent banquets; and +who, besides the tumult of war and the chase, knew no other means of +pastime, except the brimming beaker. + +He received the new guests with brotherly heartiness, in the midst of +his noisy companions. The mother was conducted to the lady of the +castle. The merchants and Henry were obliged to seat themselves at the +merry table, where the beaker passed bravely around. Henry, after much +intreaty, was, in consideration of his youth, excused from pledging +every time; the merchants, on the contrary, did not find it much +against their tastes, and smacked the old Frank-wine with tolerable +gusto. The conversation turned upon the adventures of past years. Henry +listened attentively to what was said. The knights spoke of the holy +land, of the wonders of the sacred tomb, of the adventures of their +enterprise and voyage, of the Saracens in whose power some of them had +been, and of the joyous and wonderful life of field and camp. They +expressed with great animation their indignation, when they learned +that the heavenly birth-place of Christendom was in the power of the +unbelieving heathen. They exalted those great heroes, who had earned +for themselves an immortal crown, by their persevering endeavors +against this lawless people. The lord of the castle showed the rich +sword, which he had taken from their leader with his own hand, after he +had conquered his castle, slain him, and made his wife and children +prisoners, which deeds, by the permission of the emperor, were +represented on his coat of arms. All examined the splendid sword. Henry +took it and felt suddenly inspired with warlike ardor. He kissed it +with fervent devotion. The knight rejoiced at his sympathy with their +feelings. The old man embraced him, and encouraged him to devote his +hand also forever to the deliverance of the holy sepulchre, and to have +affixed to his shoulder the marvel-working cross. He was enraptured, +and seemed hardly able to release the sword. "Think, my son," cried the +old knight, "a new crusade is on the point of departure. The emperor +himself will lead our forces into the land of the morning. Throughout +all Europe the cry of the cross is sounding anew, and everywhere heroic +devotion is excited. Who knows that we may not, a year hence, be +sitting at each other's side in the great and far renowned city of +Jerusalem, as joyful conquerors, and think of home over the wine of our +fatherland? You will see here, at my house, a maiden from the holy +land. Its maidens appear very charming to us of the West; and if you +guide your sword skilfully, beauteous captives shall not be wanting." +The knights sang with a loud voice the Crusade-song, which at that time +was a favorite throughout Europe. + + The grave in heathen hands remaineth; + The grave, wherein the Savior lay, + Their cruel mockery sustaineth, + And is unhallowed every day. + Its sorrow comes in stifled plea,-- + Who saves me from this injury? + + Where bides each valorous adorer? + The zeal of Christendom has gone! + Where is the ancient Faith's restorer? + Who lifts the cross and beckons on? + Who'll free the grave and rend in twain + The haughty foe's insulting chain? + + A holy storm o'er earth and billow + Is rushing through the midnight hour; + To stir the sleeper from his pillow, + It roars round city, camp, and tower, + In wailful cry from battlements,-- + Up, tardy Christian, get thee hence. + + Lo, angels everywhere commanding + With solemn faces, voicelessly,-- + And pilgrims at the gates are standing + With tearful cheeks, appealingly! + They sadly mourn, those holy men, + The fierceness of the Saracen. + + There breaks a red and sullen morrow + O'er Christendom's extended field; + The grief, that springs from love and sorrow, + In every bosom is revealed; + The hearth is left in sudden zeal, + And each one grasps the cross and steel. + + The armèd bands are chafing madly, + To rescue the Redeemer's grave; + Toward the sea they hasten gladly, + The holy ground to reach and save. + And children too obey the spell, + The consecrated mass to swell. + + High waves the cross, its triumph flinging + On scarrèd hosts that rally there, + And Heaven, wide its portal swinging, + Is all revealed in upper air; + For Christ each warrior burns to pour + His blood upon the sacred shore. + + To battle, Christians! God's own legion + Attends you to the promised land, + Nor long before the Paynim region + Will smoke beneath His terror-hand. + We soon shall drench in joyous mood + The sacred grave with heathen blood. + + The Holy Virgin hovers, lying + On angel wings, above the plain. + Where all, by hostile weapon dying, + Upon her bosom wake again. + She bends with cheeks serenely bright + Amid the thunder of the fight. + + Then over to the holy places! + That stifled plea is never dumb! + By prayer and conquest blot the traces, + That mark the guilt of Christendom! + If first the Savior's grave we gain, + No longer lasts the heathen reign. + +Henry's whole soul was in commotion. The tomb rose before him like a +youthful form, pale and stately, upon a massive stone in the midst of a +savage multitude, cruelly maltreated, and gazing with sad countenance +upon a cross, which shone in the background with vivid outlines, and +multiplied itself in the tossing waves of the ocean. + +Just at this time, his mother sent for him to present him to the +knight's lady. The knights were deep in the enjoyments of the banquet, +and in their imaginations as to the impending crusade, and took no +notice of Henry's departure. He found his mother in close conversation +with the old, kindhearted lady of the castle, who welcomed him +pleasantly. The evening was serene, the sun began to decline, and +Henry, who was longing after solitude and was enticed by the golden +distance, which stole through the narrow, deep-arched windows into the +gloomy apartment, easily obtained permission to stroll beyond the +castle. He hastened, his whole soul in a state of excitement, into the +free air. He looked from the height of the old rock down into the woody +valley, through which a little rivulet brawled along, turning several +mills, the noise of which was scarcely audible from the greatness of +the elevation. Then he gazed toward the immeasurable stretch of woods +and mountain-passes, and his restlessness was calmed, the warlike +tumult died away, and there remained behind only a clear, imaginative +longing; He felt the absence of a lute, little as he knew its nature +and effects. The serene spectacle of the glorious evening soothed him +to soft fancies; the blossom of his heart revealed itself momently like +lightning-flashes. He rambled through the wild shrubbery, and clambered +over fragments of rock; when suddenly there arose from a neighboring +valley a tender and impressive song, in a female voice accompanied by +wonderful music. He was sure that it was a lute, and standing full of +admiration he heard the following song in broken German. + + If the weary heart is living + Yet, beneath a foreign sky; + If a pallid Hope is giving + Fitful glimpses to the eye; + Can I still of home be dreaming? + Sorrow's tears adown are streaming, + Till my heart is like to die. + + Could I myrtle-garlands braid thee, + And the cedar's sombre hair! + To the merry dances lead thee, + That the youths and maidens share! + Hadst thou seen in robes the fairest, + Glittering with gems the rarest, + Thy belov'd, so happy there! + + Ardent looks my walk attended, + Suitors lowly bent the knee, + Songs of tenderness ascended + With the evening star to me. + In the cherished there confiding,-- + Faith to woman, love abiding, + Was their burden ceaselessly. + + There, around the crystal fountains + Heaven fondly sinks to rest, + Sighing through the wooded mountains + By its balmy waves caressed; + Where among the pleasure-bowers, + Hidden by the fruits and flowers, + Thousand motley songsters nest. + + Wide those youthful dreams are scattered! + Fatherland lies far away! + Long ago those trees were shattered, + And consumed the castle gray. + Came a savage band in motion + Fearful like the waves of ocean, + And Elysium wasted lay. + + Terribly the flames were gushing + Through the air with sullen roar, + And a brutal throng came rushing + Fiercely mounted to the door. + Sabres rang, and father, brother, + Ne'er again beheld each other,-- + Us away they rudely tore. + + Though my eyes with tears are thronging, + Still, thou distant motherland, + They are turned, how full of longing, + Full of love, toward thy strand! + Thou, O child, alone dost save me + From the thought that anguish gave me, + Life to quench with hardy hand. + +Henry heard the sobbing of a child and a soothing voice. He descended +deeper through the shrubbery, and discovered a pale, languishing girl +sitting beneath an old oak tree. A beautiful child hung crying on her +neck, and she herself was weeping; a lute lay at her side upon the +turf. She seemed a little alarmed when she saw the young stranger, who +was drawing near with a saddened countenance. + +"You have probably heard my song," said she kindly. "Your face seems +familiar to me; let me think. My memory fails me, but the sight of you +awakens in me a strange recollection of joyous days. O! it appears as +if you resembled my brother, who before our disasters was separated +from us and travelled to Persia, to visit a renowned poet there. +Perhaps he yet lives and sadly sings the misfortunes of his sisters. +Would that I yet remembered some of the beautiful songs he left us! He +was noble and kind-hearted, and found his chief happiness in his lute." + +The child, who was ten or twelve years old, looked at the strange youth +attentively, and clung fast to the bosom of the unhappy Zulima. Henry's +heart was penetrated with sympathy. He consoled the songstress with +friendly words, and prayed her to relate to him her history +circumstantially. She seemed not unwilling to do so. Henry seated +himself before her, and listened to her tale, interrupted as it was by +frequent tears. She dwelt principally upon the praises of her +countrymen and fatherland. She portrayed their loftiness of soul, and +their pure, strong susceptibility of life's poetry, and the wonderfully +mysterious charms of nature, She described the romantic beauties of the +fertile regions of Arabia, which lay like happy islands in the midst of +impassable, sandy wastes, refuge places for the oppressed and weary, +like colonies of Paradise,--full of fresh wells, whose streams trilled +over dense meadows and glittering stones, through venerable groves, +filled with every variety of singing birds; regions attractive also in +numerous monuments of memorable past time. + +"You would look with wonder," she said, "upon the many-colored, +distinct, and curious traces and images upon the old stone slabs. They +seem to have been always well known; nor have they been preserved +without a reason. You muse and muse, you conjecture single meanings, +and become more and more curious to arrive at the deep coherence of +these old writings. Their unknown meaning excites unwonted meditation; +and even though you depart without having solved the enigmas, you have +yet made a thousand remarkable discoveries in yourself, which give to +life a new refulgence, and to the mind an ever profitable occupation. +Life, on a soil inhabited in olden time, and once glorious in its +industry, activity, and attachment to noble pursuits, has a peculiar +charm. Nature seems to have become there more human, more rational; a +dim remembrance throws back through the transparent present the images +of the world in marked outline; and thus you enjoy a twofold world, +purged by this very process from the rude and disagreeable, and made +the magic poetry and fable of the mind. Who knows whether also an +indefinable influence of the former inhabitants, now departed, does not +conspire to this end? And perhaps it is this hidden bias, that drives +men from new countries, at a certain period of their awakening, with +such a restless longing for the old home of their race, and that +emboldens them to risk their property and life, for the sake of +possessing these lands." + +After a pause she continued. + +"Believe not what you are told of the cruelties of my countrymen. +Nowhere are captives treated more magnanimously; and even your pilgrims +to Jerusalem were received with hospitality; only they seldom deserved +it. Most of them were worthless men, who distinguished their +pilgrimages by their evil deeds, and who, for that reason, often fell +into the hands of just revenge. How peacefully might the Christian have +visited the holy sepulchre, without being under the necessity of +commencing a terrible and useless war, which embitters everything, +spreads abroad continued misery, and which has separated forever the +land of the morning from Europe! What is there in the name of +possessor? Our rulers reverentially honored the grave of your Holy One, +whom we also consider a divine person; and how beautifully might his +sacred tomb become the cradle of a happy union, the source of an +alliance blessing all forever!" + +Night overtook them during this conversation, darkness approached, and +the moon rose in quiet light from the dark forest. They descended +slowly towards the castle. Henry was full of thought, and his warlike +inspiration had entirely vanished. He observed a strange confusion in +the world; the moon assumed the appearance of a sympathizing spectator, +and raised him above the ruggedness of the earth's surface, which there +seemed so inconsiderable, however wild and insurmountable it might +appear to the wanderer below. Zulima walked silently by his side, hand +in hand with the child. Henry carried the lute. He endeavored to revive +the sinking hope of his companion, to revisit once again her home, +whilst he felt within him an earnest prompting to be her deliverer, +though in what manner he knew not. A strange power seemed to lie in his +simple words, for Zulima felt an unwonted tranquillity, and thanked him +in the most touching manner for his consolation. + +The knights were yet in their cups, and the mother was engaged in +household gossip. Henry had no desire to return to the noisy hall. He +felt weary, and with his mother soon betook himself to the chamber, +that was set apart for them. He told her before he fell asleep, what +had happened, and soon sank into pleasant dreams. The merchants had +also retired betimes, and were early astir. The knights were in deep +sleep, when they started on their journey; but the lady of the house +tenderly took leave of them. Zulima had slept but little; an inward joy +had kept her awake; she made her appearance as they were departing, and +humbly but eagerly assisted the travellers. Before they started, she +brought with many tears her lute to Henry, and touchingly besought him +to take it with him as a remembrance of Zulima. + +"It was my brother's lute," she said, "who gave it to me at our last +parting; it is the only property I have saved. It seemed to please you +yesterday, and you leave me an inestimable gift,--_sweet hope_. Take +this small token of my gratitude, and let it be a pledge, that you will +remember the poor Zulima. We shall certainly see each other again, and +then perhaps I shall be much happier." + +Henry wept. He was unwilling to take the lute, so indispensable to her +happiness. + +"Give me," said he, "the golden hand in your hair ornamented with the +strange characters, unless it be memorial of your parents, sisters, or +brothers, and take in return a veil which my mother will gladly resign +to you." + +She finally yielded to his persuasions; and gave him the band, saying; + +"It is my name in my mother tongue, which I myself in better times +embroidered on this band. Let it be a pleasure for you to gaze upon it, +and to think that it has bound up my hair during a long and sorrowful +period, and has grown pale with its possessor." Henry's mother loosed +the veil and gave it to her, while she embraced her with tears. + + + + + CHAPTER V. + +After a few days' journey they arrived at a small village, situated at +the foot of some sharp hill-tops, interspersed with deep defiles. The +country in other respects was fruitful and pleasant, though the hilly +ridge presented a dead, repulsive appearance. The inn was neat, the +people attentive; and a number of men, partly travellers, partly mere +drinking guests, sat in the room entertaining themselves with various +cheer. + +Our travellers mingled with them, and joined in their conversation. The +attention of the company was particularly directed to an old man +strangely dressed, who sat by a table and answered pleasantly whatever +questions of curiosity were put to him. He had come from foreign lands, +and early that day had been examining the surrounding country. He was +now explaining his business, and the discoveries he had made during the +day. The people here called him a treasure-digger. But he spoke very +modestly of his power and knowledge; yet what he said bore the impress +of quaintness and novelty. He said that he was born in Bohemia. From +his youth he had been very curious to know what might be hidden in the +mountains, whence water poured its visible springs, and where gold, +silver, and precious stones were found, so irresistibly attractive to +man. He had often in the neighboring cloister-chapel beheld their solid +light appended to the pictures and relics, and only wished that they +would speak to him in explanation of their wonderful origin. He had +indeed sometimes heard that they came from far distant regions; but had +always wondered why such treasures and jewels might not also be found +in his own land. The mountains would not be so extensive and lofty, and +so closely guarded, without some purpose; he also imagined that he had +found shining and glimmering stones upon them. He had climbed about +industriously among the clefts and caves, and had peered into their +antiquated halls and arches with unspeakable pleasure. + +At length he met a traveller who told him that he must become a miner +in order to satisfy his curiosity. There were miners in Bohemia, and he +needed only descend the river for ten or twelve days, to Eula, where to +gratify his desire he had only to mention it. He waited for no further +confirmation of this, but set off on the next day. After a fatiguing +journey of several days he reached Eula. + +"I cannot describe how gloriously I felt, when I saw from the hill the +piles of rock overgrown with thickets, upon which stood the board huts, +and watched the smoke-wreaths rising over the forest from the valley +below. A distant murmur increased my eager anticipations. With +incredible curiosity and full of silent reverence, I soon stood +over a steep descent, which led precipitously down into the mountain, +from among the huts. I hastened towards the valley, and soon met +some men dressed in black, with lamps in their hands, whom I not +improperly took to be miners, and to whom I told my desire with anxious +timidity. They listened to me kindly, and told me that I must go to the +smelting-houses and inquire for the overseer, who supplied the place of +director and master, and who would tell me whether I could be admitted. +They thought my request would be granted, and told me that 'good luck' +was the customary form of greeting the overseer. Full of joyous +expectations I pursued my way, constantly repeating to myself the new +and significant greeting. I found a venerable old man who received me +with kindness, and after telling him my history and my warm desire to +be instructed in his rare and mysterious art, he readily promised to +fulfil my wishes. He seemed pleased with me, and entertained me in his +own house. I could scarcely wait for the moment when I should descend +the pit, and behold myself in the long-coveted apparel. That very +evening he brought me a mining-dress, and explained to me the use of +some tools which were kept in a chamber. At evening the miners came to +him, and not a word of their conversation did I lose, however foreign +and unintelligible the chief part of their language appeared to me. The +little, however, that I seemed to understand heightened the ardor of my +curiosity, and busied me at night with strange dreams. I awoke early, +and found myself at the house of my new host, where the miners were +gradually collecting to receive orders. A little side-room was fitted +up as a chapel. A monk appeared and read mass, and afterwards +pronounced a solemn prayer, in which he invoked Heaven to give the +miners its holy protection, to assist them in their dangerous labors, +to defend them from the temptations and snares of evil spirits, and to +grant them abundant ore. I never prayed more fervently, and never +realized so vividly the deep significance of the mass. My companions +appeared to me like heroes of the lower earth, who were obliged to +encounter a thousand perils, but possessing an enviable fortune in +their precious knowledge, and prepared, by grave and silent intercourse +with the primeval children of nature, in their sombre, mystic chambers, +for the reception of heavenly gifts, and for a blessed elevation above +the world and its troubles. When the service was concluded, the +overseer, giving me a lamp and a small wooden crucifix, accompanied me +to the shaft, as we are accustomed to call the steep entrance into the +subterraneous abodes. He taught me the method of descent, acquainted me +with the necessary precautions, as well as with the names of the +various objects and divisions. He led the way, and slid down a round +beam, grasping with one hand a rope, which was knotted to a transverse +bar, and with the other his lamp. I followed his example, and in this +manner we soon reached a considerable depth. I have seldom felt so +solemnly; and the distant light glimmered like a happy star, pointing +out the path to the secret treasures of nature. We came below to a +labyrinth of paths. My kind master was ever ready to answer my +inquisitive questions, and to teach me concerning his art. The roaring +of the water, the distance from the inhabited surface, the darkness and +intricacy of the paths, and the distant hum of the working miners, +delighted me extremely, and I joyfully felt myself in full possession +of all that for which I had most ardently sighed. This complete +satisfaction of our innate taste, this wonderful delight in things +which perhaps have an intimate relation to our secret being, and in +occupations for which one is destined from the cradle, cannot be +explained or described. Perhaps they might appear to every one else +common, insignificant, and unpleasant; but they seemed to me necessary +as air to the lungs, or food to the stomach. My good master was pleased +at my inward delight, and promised me that, with such zeal and +attention, I should advance rapidly and become an able miner. With what +reverence did I behold for the first time in my life, on the sixteenth +of March, more than five-and-forty years ago, the king of metals in +small, delicate leaves between the fissures of the rocks! It seemed as +if, having been doomed here to close captivity, it glittered kindly +towards, the miner, who with so many dangers and labors breaks a way to +it through its strong prison-walls, that he may remove it to the light +of day, and exalt it to the honor of royal crowns, vessels, and holy +relics, and to dominion over the world in the shape of genuine coin, +adorned with emblems, cherished by all. From that time I remained at +Eula, and advanced gradually from the business of removing the hewn +pieces of ore in baskets, to the degree of hewer, who is the real +miner, and who performs the observations upon the stone." + +The old man paused a moment in his narration, and drank, while the +attentive listeners pledged his good luck, as they drained their cups. +Henry was delighted with the old man's discourse, and was desirous to +hear still more from him. + +His listeners related descriptions of the dangers and strangeness of +the miner's life, and had many marvels to tell, at which the old man +often smiled, and endeavored to correct their odd representations. + +After a while Henry said, "you must have experienced much that is +wonderful since then, I hope you have never repented your selection of +a mode of life. Be kind enough to tell us how you have employed +yourself since, and why you are now travelling. You must have looked +farther into the world, and I am certain that you are now something +more than a common miner." + +"I take great pleasure," said the old man, "in the recollection of past +times, in which I find cause to bless the divine mercy and goodness. +Fate has led me through a joyful and serene life, and not a day has +passed, at the close of which I could not retire to rest with a +thankful heart. I have always been fortunate in my undertakings, and +our common Father in Heaven has guarded me from evil, and brought me to +a gray old age with honor. Next to him I must thank my old master for +all these blessings, who long since was gathered to his fathers, and of +whom I never can think without tears. He was a man of the old school, +after God's own heart. He was gifted with deep penetration, yet +childlike and humble in every action. Through his means mining has +become in high repute, and has helped the duke of Bohemia to immense +treasures. The whole region has become by its influence settled and +prosperous, and is now a blooming land. All the miners honored him as a +father, and as long as Eula stands, his name will be mentioned with +emotion and gratitude. His name was Werner, and he was a Lausatian by +birth. His only daughter was a mere child when I came to his house. My +industry, faithfulness, and devoted attachment daily won his affection. +He gave me his name and adopted me as his son. The little girl grew to +be an open-hearted, merry creature, whose countenance was as +beautifully clear and pure as her own mind. The old man, when he saw +that she was attached to me, that I loved to play with her, and that I +could never cease gazing at her eyes, which were as blue and open as +heaven and glittering as crystal, often told me that when I became a +worthy miner, he would not refuse her to me. He kept his word. The day +I became hewer he laid his hands upon us, blessed us as bride and +bridegroom, and a few weeks afterward I called her my wife. Early on +that day, although a mere apprentice, I struck upon a rich vein. The +Duke sent me a golden chain, with his likeness engraven on a large +medallion, and promised me the office of my father-in-law. How happy +was I when on my marriage day I hung the chain around the neck of my +bride, and the eyes of all were turned upon her. Our old father lived +to see some merry grand-children, and his declining years were more +joyous than he had ever anticipated. With joy could he finish his task, +and fare forth from the dark mine of this world, to rest in peace, and +await the final day. + +"Sir," said the old man, as he turned his gaze upon Henry, and wiped +some tears from his eyes, "it must be that mining is blessed by God; +for there is no art, which renders those who are occupied in it happier +and nobler, which awakens a deeper faith in divine wisdom and guidance, +or which preserves the innocence and childlike simplicity of the heart +more freshly. Poor is the miner born, and poor he departs again. He is +satisfied with knowing where metallic riches are found, and with +bringing them to light; but their dazzling glare has no power over his +simple heart. Untouched by the perilous delirium, he is more pleased in +examining their wonderful formation, and the peculiarities of their +origin and primitive situation, than in calling himself their +possessor. When changed into property, they have no longer any charm +for him, and he prefers to seek them amid a thousand dangers and +travails, in the fastnesses of the earth, rather than to follow their +vocation in the world, or aspire after them on the earth's surface, +with cunning and deceitful arts. These severe labors keep his heart +fresh and his mind strong; he enjoys his scanty pay with inward +thankfulness, and comes forth every day from the dark tombs of his +calling, with new-born enjoyment of life. He now appreciates the +pleasure of light and of rest, the charms of the free air and prospect; +his food and drink are right refreshing to one, who enjoys them as +devoutly as if at the Lord's Supper; and with what a warm and tender +heart he joins his friends, or embraces his wife and children, and +thankfully shares the delights of heart-felt intercourse." + +"His lonely occupation cuts off a great part of his life from day and +the society of man. Still he does not harden himself in dull +indifference as to these deep-meaning matters of the upper world; and +he retains a childlike simplicity, which recognises the interior +essence, and the manifold, primitive energies of all things. Nature +will never be the possession of any single individual. In the form of +property it becomes a terrible poison, which destroys rest, excites the +ruinous desire of drawing everything within the reach of its possessor, +and carries with it a train of wild passions and endless sorrows. Thus +it undermines secretly the ground of the owner, buries him in the abyss +which breaks beneath him, and so passes into the hands of another, thus +gradually satisfying its tendency to belong to all. + +"How quietly, on the contrary, the poor miner labors in his deep +solitudes, far from the restless turmoil of day, animated solely by a +thirst for knowledge and a love of harmony. In his solitude he tenderly +thinks of his friends and family, and his sense of their value and +relationship is continually renewed. His calling teaches indefatigable +patience, and forbids his attention to be diverted by useless thoughts. +He deals with a strange, hard, and unwieldly power, which will yield +only to persevering industry and continual care. But what a glorious +flower blooms for him in these awful depths,--a firm confidence in his +heavenly Father, whose hand and care are every day visible to him in +signs not easily mistaken! How often have I sat down, and by the light +of my lamp gazed upon the plain crucifix with the most heart-felt +devotion! Then for the first time I clearly understood the holy meaning +of this mysterious image, and struck upon a heart-vein of the richest +golden ore, and which has yielded me an everlasting reward." + +After a pause the old man continued:-- + +"Truly must he have been divine, who first taught men the noble art of +mining, and who has hidden in the bosom of the rock this sober emblem +of human life. In one place the veins are large, easily broken, but +poor; in another a wretched and insignificant cleft of rock confines +it; and here the best ores are to be found. It often splits before the +miner's face into a thousand atoms, but the patient one is not +terrified; he quietly pursues his course, and soon sees his zeal +rewarded, whilst working it open in a new and more promising direction. + +"A specious lump often entices him from the true direction; but he soon +discovers that the way is false, and breaks his way by main strength +across the grain of the rock, until he has found the true path that +leads to the ore. How thoroughly acquainted does the miner here become +with all the humors of chance, and how assured that energy and +constancy are the only sure means of overcoming them and of raising the +hidden treasure." + +"Certainly you are not without cheering songs," said Henry. "I should +think that your calling would involuntarily inspire you with music, and +that songs would be your welcome companions." + +"There you have spoken the truth," said the old man. "The song and the +guitar belong to the miner's life, and no occupation can retain their +charm with more zest than ours. Music and dancing are the pleasures of +the miner; like a joyful prayer are they, and the remembrance and hope +of them help to lighten weary labor and shorten long solitude. + +"If you would like it now, I will give you a song for your +entertainment, which was a favorite in my youth. + + "Who fathoms her recesses, + Is monarch of the sphere,-- + Forgetting all distresses, + Within her bosom here. + + "Of all her granite piling + The secret make he knows, + And down amid her toiling + Unweariedly he goes. + + "He is unto her plighted, + And tenderly allied,-- + Becomes by her delighted, + As if she were his bride. + + "New love each day is burning + For her within his breast, + No toil or trouble shunning, + She leaveth him no rest. + + "To him her voice is swelling + In solemn, friendly rhyme, + The mighty stories telling + Of long-evanished time. + + "The Fore-world's holy breezes + Around his temples play, + And caverned night releases + To him a quenchless ray. + + "On every side he greeteth + A long familiar land, + And willingly she meeteth + The labors of his hand. + + "For helpful waves are flowing + Along his mountain course, + And rocky holds are showing + Their treasures' secret source. + + "Toward his monarch's palace + He guides the golden stream, + And diadem and chalice + With noble jewels gleam. + + "Though faithfully his treasure + He renders to the king, + He liveth poor with pleasure, + And makes no questioning. + + "And though beneath him daily + They fight for gold and gain, + Above here let him gaily + The lord of earth remain." + +The song pleased Henry exceedingly, and he begged the old man to sing +another. He was willing to gratify him, saying, "I know one song that +is very strange, and of whose origin we ourselves are ignorant. A +travelling miner, who came to us from a distance, and who was a curious +diviner with a wand, brought it with him. The song became a favorite +because it was so peculiar,--nearly as dark and obscure as the music +itself; but on that very account singularly attractive, and like a +dream between sleeping and waking. + + "I know where is a castle strong, + With stately king in silence reigning, + Attended by a wondrous throng, + Yet deep within its walls remaining. + His pleasure-hall is far aloof, + With viewless warders round it gliding, + And only streams familiar sliding + Toward him from the sparry roof. + + "Of what they see with lustrous eyes, + Where all the stars in light are dwelling, + They faithfully the king apprize, + And never are they tired of telling. + He bathes himself within their flood, + So daintily his members washing, + And all his light again is flashing + Throughout his mother's[2] paly blood. + + "His castle old and marvellous, + From seas unfathomed o'er him closing, + Stood firm, and ever standeth thus, + Escape to upper air opposing; + An inner spell in secret thrall + The vassals of the realm is holding, + And clouds, like triumph-flags unfolding, + Are gathered round the rocky wall. + + "Lo, an innumerable race + Before the barred portals lying; + And each the trusty servant plays, + The ears of men so blandly plying. + So men are lured the king to gain, + Divining not that they are captured; + But thus by specious longing raptured, + Forget the hidden cause of pain. + + "But few are cunning and awake, + Nor ever for his treasures pining; + And these assiduous efforts make, + The ancient castle undermining. + The mighty spell's primeval tie + True insight's hand alone can sever; + If so the Inmost opens ever, + The dawn of freedom's day is nigh. + + "To toil the firmest wall is sand, + To courage no abyss unsounded; + Who trusteth in his heart and hand, + Seeks for the king with zeal unbounded. + He brings him from his secret hill, + The spirit foes by spirits quelling, + Masters the torrents madly swelling, + And makes them follow at his will. + + "The more the king appears in sight, + And freely round the earth is flowing, + The more diminishes his might, + The more the free in number growing. + At length dissolves that olden spell,-- + And through the castle void careering, + Us homeward is the ocean bearing + Upon its gentle, azure swell." + +Just as the old man ended, it struck Henry that he had somewhere heard +that song. He asked him to repeat it and wrote it down. The old man +then departed, and the merchants conversed with the other guests on the +pleasures and hardships of mining. One said "I don't believe the old +man is here without some object. He has been climbing to-day among the +hills, and has doubtless discovered good signs. We will ask him when he +comes in again." + +"See here," said another, "we might ask him to hunt up a well for our +village. Good water is far off, and a well would be right welcome to +us." + +"It occurs to me," said a third, "that I might ask him to take with him +one of my sons, who has already filled the house with stones. The +youngster would certainly make an able miner, and the old man seems +honest, and one who would bring him up in the way he should go." + +The merchants were thinking whether they might not establish, by aid of +the miner, a profitable trade with Bohemia, and procure metals thence +at low prices. The old man entered the room again, and all wished to +make use of his acquaintance, when he began to say:-- + +"How dull and depressing is this narrow room! The moon is without there +in all her glory, and I have a great desire to take a walk. I saw +to-day some remarkable caves in this neighborhood. Perhaps some of you +would like to go with me; and if we take lights, we shall be able to +view them without any difficulty." + +The inhabitants of the village were already acquainted with the +existence of these caves, but no one had as yet dared to enter them. On +the contrary they were deceived by frightful traditions of dragons and +other monsters, which were said to dwell therein. Some went so far as +to say that they had seen them, and insisted that the bones of men who +had been robbed, and of animals which had been devoured, were to be +found at the entrances of these caves. Others thought that a ghost +haunted them, for they had often seen from a distance a strange human +form there, and songs had been heard thence at night. + +The old man was rather incredulous upon the point, and laughingly +assured them that they could visit the caves with safety under the +protection of a miner, since such monsters must shun him; and as for a +singing spirit, that must certainly be a beneficent one. Curiosity +rendered many courageous enough to accept his proposition. Henry wished +also to accompany him, and his mother at length yielded to his +entreaties, and the persuasion and promises of the old man, who agreed +to have a special eye to his safety. The merchants promised to do the +same. Long sticks of pitch-pine were collected for torches; part of the +company provided themselves plentifully with ladders, poles, ropes, and +all sorts of defensive weapons, and thus finally they started for the +neighboring hills. The old man led the way with Henry and the +merchants. The boor had brought that inquisitive son of his, who full +of joy held a torch and pointed out the way to the caves. The evening +was clear and warm. The moon shone mildly over the hills, prompting +strange dreams in all creatures. Itself lay like a dream of the sun, +above the introverted world of visions, and restored nature, now living +in its infinite phases, back to that fabulous olden time, when every +bud yet slumbered by itself, lonely and unquickened, longing in vain to +expand the dark fulness of its immeasurable existence. The evening's +tale mirrored itself in Henry's mind. It seemed as if the world lay +disclosed within him, showing him as a friendly visitor all her hidden +treasures and beauties. So clearly was the great yet simple apparition +revealed to him. Nature seemed incomprehensible, only because the near +and the true loomed around man with such a manifold lavishment of +expression. The words of the old man had opened a secret door. He saw a +little dwelling built close to a lofty minster, from whose stone +pavement arose the solemn foreworld, while the clear, joyous future, in +the form of golden cherubs, floated from the spire towards it with +songs. Loud swelled the notes in their silvery chanting, as all +creatures were entering at the wide gate, each audibly expressing in a +simple prayer and proper tongue their interior nature. How strange it +seemed that this clear view, so necessary to his existence, had been so +long unknown to him. He now reviewed at a glance all his relations to +the wide world around him. He felt what he had become, and was to +become, through its influence, and comprehended all the peculiar +conceptions and presages, which he had already often stumbled upon in +contemplation. The story which the merchants had related of the young +man, who studied nature so assiduously, and who became the son-in-law +of the king, recurred to his mind, with a thousand other recollections +of his past life, weaving themselves involuntarily on his part into a +magic thread. While Henry was thus occupied in his inward musings, the +company had approached the cave. The entrance was low, and the old man +took a torch and first clambered over some fragments of rock. A +perceptible current of air blew towards them, and the old man assured +them that they could follow with confidence. The most timorous brought +up the rear, holding their weapons in readiness. Henry and the +merchants were behind the old man, and the boy walked merrily at his +side. The path, at first narrow, emerged into a spacious and lofty +cave, which the gleam of the torches could not fully illumine. Some +openings, however, were seen in the rocky wall opposite. The ground was +soft and quite even; the walls and ceiling were also neither rough nor +irregular. But the innumerable bones and teeth which covered the +ground, chiefly attracted the attention of all. Many were in a full +state of preservation, some bore marks of decay, while some projecting +here and there from the walls seemed petrified. Most of them were of +extraordinary size and strength. The old man was much gratified at +seeing these relics of gray antiquity; they added little courage, +however, to the farmers, who considered them downright evidence, that +beasts of prey were near at hand, although the old man pointed out the +signs upon them of a remote antiquity, and asked them whether they had +ever heard of destruction among their flocks, or the seizure of men in +the neighborhood, and whether they thought these relics the bones of +known beasts or men. The old man wished to penetrate farther into the +cave, but the farmers deemed it advisable to retreat to its mouth, and +there await his return. Henry, the merchants, and the boy remained with +him, having provided themselves with ropes and torches. They soon +reached a second cave, where the old man did not forget to mark the +path by which they entered, by a figure of bones which he erected +before the mouth. This cave resembled the other, and was equally full +of the remains of animals. Henry's mind was affected by wonder and +awe; he felt as if passing through the outer-court of the central +earth-palace. Heaven and earth lay at once far distant from him; these +dark and vast halls seemed parts of some strange subterraneous kingdom. +"May it not be possible," thought he to himself, "that beneath our feet +there moves by itself a world in mighty life, that strange productions +derive their being from the bowels of the earth, which sends forth the +internal heat of its dark bosom into gigantic and preternatural shapes? +Might not these awful strangers have been driven forth once by the +piercing cold, and appeared amongst us, while perhaps at the same time +heavenly guests, living, speaking energies of the stars, were visible +above our heads? Are these bones the remains of their wandering upon +the surface, or of their flight into the deep?" + +Suddenly the old man called them to him, and showed them the fresh +track of a human foot upon the ground. They could discover no more, so +that the old man concluded they might follow the track without fear of +meeting robbers. They were about to do this, when suddenly, as from a +great depth beneath their feet, a distinct strain arose. They listened +attentively, with not a little astonishment. + + "In the vale I gladly linger, + Smiling in the dusky night, + For to me with rosy finger + Proffers Love his cup of light. + + "With its dew my spirit sunken + Wafted is toward the skies, + And I stand in this life drunken + At the gate of paradise. + + "Lulled in blessed contemplation, + Vexes me no petty smart; + O, the queen of all creation + Gives to me her faithful heart. + + "Many years of tearful sorrows + Glorified this common clay,-- + Thence a graven form it borrows, + Life securing it for aye. + + "Here the lapse of days evanished + But a moment seems to me; + Backward would I turn, if banished, + Gazing hither gratefully." + +All were most agreeably surprised and eagerly wished to discover the +singer. + +After some search, they found in an angle of the right wall a deep +sunken path, to which the footsteps seemed to lead them. Soon they +thought they perceived a light, which became clearer as they +approached. A new vault of greater extent than those they had yet +passed opened before them, in the further extremity of which they saw a +human form sitting by a lamp, with a great book before him upon a slab, +in which he appeared to be reading. + +The figure turned towards them, arose, and came forward. He was a man +whose age it were impossible to guess. He seemed neither old nor young, +and no traces of time were discoverable, except in his smooth silvery +hair, which was parted on his forehead. An indescribable air of +serenity dwelt in his eyes, as if he were looking down from a clear +mountain into an infinite spring. + +He had sandals upon his feet, and wore no other dress except a large +mantle cast around him, which added dignity to his noble form. He +expressed no surprise at their unexpected arrival, and greeted them as +old acquaintances and expected guests. + +"It is pleasant indeed," said he, "that you have sought me. You are the +first friends I have ever seen, though I have dwelt here a long season. +It seems that men are beginning to examine our spacious and wonderful +mansion a little more closely." + +The old man answered, "We did not expect to find here so friendly a +host. We had been told of wild beasts and spectres, but we now find +ourselves most agreeably deceived. If we have disturbed your devotions +or deep meditations, pardon it to our curiosity." + +"Can any sight be more delightful," said the unknown, "than the joyous +and speaking countenance of man? Think not that I am a misanthrope, +because you find me in this solitude. I have not shunned the world, but +have only sought a retirement, where I could apply myself to my +meditations undisturbed." + +"Have you never grieved for your own desolation, and do not hours +sometimes come, when you are fearful, and long to hear a human voice?" + +"Now, no more. There was a time in my youth, when a highly wrought +imagination induced me to become a hermit. Dark forebodings busied my +youthful fancy. I thought to find in solitude full nourishment for my +heart. The fountain of my inner life seemed inexhaustible. But I soon +learned that fulness of experience must be added to it, that a young +heart cannot dwell alone; nay, that man, by manifold intercourse with +his race, reaches a certain self-subsisting independence." + +"I myself believe," said the old man, "that there is a certain natural +impulse to every mode of life; and that perhaps the experiences of +increasing age lead of themselves to a withdrawal from human society. +It then seems as if society were devoted to activity as much for gain +as for maintenance. It is powerfully impelled by a great hope, by a +common object, and children and the aged seem not at home. Helplessness +and ignorance exclude the first from it, while the latter, with every +hope fulfilled, every object attained, and new hopes and objects no +longer woven into their circle, turn back into themselves, and find +enough employment in preparing for a higher existence. But more +peculiar causes seem to have separated you entirely from men, and +influenced you to resign all the comforts of society. Methinks that the +tension of your mind must often relax, and give place to the most +disagreeable emotions." + +"I have indeed felt that; but have learned to avoid it by a strict +regularity in my mode of living. For this purpose I endeavor by +exercise to preserve my health, and then there is no danger. Every day +I walk for several hours and enjoy the light and air as much as +possible; or I remain in these halls, and busy myself at certain times +with basket-braiding and carving. I exchange my ware at distant places +for provisions; I have brought many books with me, and thus time passes +like a moment. In these places I have acquaintances who know where I +live, and from whom I learn what is going on in the world. These will +bury me when I die, and take away my books." + +He led them nearer his seat, which was against the wall of the cave. +They noticed several books and a guitar lying upon the ground, and upon +the wall hung a complete suit of armor apparently quite costly. The +table consisted of five great stone slabs, put together in the form of +a box. Upon the upper one were two sculptured male and female figures +large as life, holding a garland of lilies and roses. Upon the side was +inscribed, + +"Frederick and Mary of Hohenzollern here returned to their native +dust." + +The hermit inquired of his guests concerning their fatherland, and how +they had journeyed into these regions. He was kind and communicative, +and displayed great knowledge of the world. + +The old man said, "I see you have been a warrior; the armor betrays +you." + +"The dangers and vicissitudes of war, the deep, poetic spirit connected +with an armed host, tore me from my youthful solitude and determined +the destiny of my life. Perhaps the long tumult, the innumerable events +among which I have dwelt, awakened in me a yet stronger inclination for +solitude, where numberless recollections make pleasant companions; and +this the more, in proportion as our view of them is varied; a view +which now first discovers their true connexion, their significance, and +their occult tendency. The peculiar sense for the study of man's +history develops itself but tardily, and rather through the silent +influence of memory than by the more forcible impressions of the +present. The nearest events seem but loosely connected, yet they +sympathize so much the more curiously with the remote. And it is only +when one is able to comprehend in one view a lengthened series, neither +interpreting too literally, nor confounding the proper method with +capricious fancies, that he detects the secret chain which binds the +past to the future, and learns to rear the fabric of history from hope +and memory. Yet only he can succeed in discovering the simple laws of +history, to whom the whole past is present. We arrive only at +incomplete and cumbrous formulas, and are well content to find for +ourselves an available prescription, that may sufficiently expound the +riddle of our own short lives. But I can truly say that each rigorous +view of the events of life causes us deep and inexhaustible pleasure, +and raises us, of all speculations, the highest above earthly evils. +Youth reads history only from curiosity, as it cons a story; to +maturity it becomes a divinely consoling and edifying companion, +preparing it gently by its wise discourses for a higher and more +embracing sphere of action, and acquainting it through intelligible +images with the unknown world. The church is the dwelling-house of +history, the church-yard its symbolic flower-garden. History should +only be written by old and pious men, whose own is drawing to its +close, and who have nothing more to hope for, but transplantation to +the garden. Their descriptions will be neither obscure nor dull; on the +contrary a ray from the spire will exhibit everything in the most exact +and beautiful light, and the Holy Spirit will hover above these rarely +stirred waters." + +"How true and obvious are your remarks," said the old man. "We ought +certainly to spend more labor in faithfully recording the occurrences +of our own times, and should leave our record as a devout bequest for +posterity. There are a thousand remoter matters to which care and labor +are devoted, while we trouble ourselves little with the nearer and +weightier, the occurrences of our lives, and those of our relatives and +generation, whose fleeting destiny we have comprehended in the idea of +a Providence. We heedlessly suffer all traces of these to escape from +our memories. Like consecrated relics, all facts of the past will be +sought for by a wiser future, not indifferent to the biography of the +most insignificant man, since in his life the lives of all his greater +contemporaries will be more or less reflected." + +"It is also much to be regretted," said the count of Hohenzollern, +"that even the few, who have undertaken to report the deeds and events +of their times, have not carried out their designs, nor striven to give +order and completeness to their observations; but have proceeded almost +wholly at random in the choice and collection of their facts. Any one +may easily see that he only can describe plainly and perfectly, that +which he knows exactly, whose origin and consequences, object and use, +are present to his mind; for otherwise there will be no description, +but a bewildering mixture of imperfect statements. Let a child describe +an engine, or a farmer a ship, and no one can gain anything useful or +instructive from their words; and so is it with most historians, who +are perhaps able enough even to be wearisome in relating and collecting +facts; but who forget what is most note-worthy, what first makes +history historical, and connects so many varied events in an agreeable +and instructive whole. If I understand all this rightly, it appears to +me necessary that a historian should be also a poet; for poets alone +know the art of skilfully combining events. In their tales and fables I +have often noticed, with silent pleasure, a tender sympathy with the +mysterious spirit of life. There is more truth in their romances than +in learned chronicles. Though the heroes and their fates are +inventions, yet the spirit in which they are composed is true and +natural. In some degree it matters not whether those persons, in whose +fates we trace our own, ever did or did not exist. We seek to +contemplate the great and simple spirit of an age's phenomena; and if +this wish be gratified, we are not cumbered about the certainty of the +existence of their external forms."[See Note II.] + +"I have also been much attached to the poets on that account," said the +old man. "Life and the world have become through them more clear and +perceptible to me. It has appeared to me that they must be in alliance +with the acute spirits of light, which penetrate and divide all +natures, and spread over each a peculiar, softly tinted veil. By their +songs I felt my own nature gently developed, and it could move, as it +were, more freely, enjoy its social disposition and desires, poise with +silent pleasure its limbs against each other, and in various forms +excite delight a thousand-fold." + +"Were you so happy in your country as to have some poets?" asked the +hermit. + +"There have been a few with us at times; but travelling seemed their +chief pleasure, and therefore they scarcely ever remained long with us. +But during my wanderings in Illyria, Saxony, and Sweden, I have met +some, the remembrance of whom is ever pleasant." + +"You have, travelled far, and doubtless must have seen much during your +life, that is wonderful." + +"Our art almost compels us to look industriously around the world, and +it is as if the miner were driven by a subterraneous fire. One mountain +sends him to another. He never ceases his scrutiny, and during his +whole life is gaining knowledge from that wonderful architecture, which +has so curiously floored and wainscotted the earth under our feet. Our +art is very ancient and extended. It may indeed, like our race, have +migrated with the sun from the East toward the West, from the middle to +the extremities. It has been obliged everywhere to combat with other +difficulties; and as necessity continually urges the human spirit to +wise inventions, so the miner can increase his knowledge and ability, +and enrich his home with youthful experience." + +"You are well nigh inverted astrologers," said the hermit; "as they +ceaselessly regard the sky, wandering through its immeasurable spaces, +so do you turn your gaze to the earth, exploring its construction. +Astrologers study the forces and influences of the stars, while you are +discovering the forces of rocks and mountains, and the manifold +properties of earth and stone strata. To them the higher world is a +book of futurity; to you the earth is a memorial of the primeval +world." + +"This connexion is not without its meaning," said the old man; "these +shining prophets play perhaps a chief part in that old history of the +wonderful creation. Men perhaps in the course of time will learn to +understand them better, and to explain them by their operations, and +inversely. Perhaps also the great mountain-chains exhibit the traces of +their former ways, and perhaps they desired to support themselves +without foreign aid, to take their own way to Heaven. Many raised +themselves boldly enough that they might become stars, and therefore +must now be deprived of the fair green vesture of the lower regions. +They have therefore gained nothing, except the power of influencing the +weather for their fathers, and of becoming prophets for the lower +world, which now they protect, and now deluge with tempests." + +"Since I have dwelt in this cave," the hermit answered, "I have been +accustomed to reflect more on ancient times. I cannot describe how +attractive such meditations are, and I can imagine the love which a +miner must cherish for his trade. When I look upon these strange old +bones, which are collected in such great numbers here; when I picture +to myself the savage period when those strange and monstrous beasts +crowded in dense bands into these caves, driven thither perhaps by fear +and terror, and finding here their death; when again I go back to the +times when these caves were formed, and wide-spread floods covered the +land; then I seem to myself like a dream of futurity; like a child of +eternal peace. How quiet and peaceful, how mild and dear is out present +nature, when compared with violent and gigantic times! The mightiest +tempests, the most terrible earthquakes of our day, are but weak echoes +of the throes of that first birth. Perhaps also the animal and +vegetable kingdoms, and even the men who then existed, if any were +found on the different islands of the ocean, were of firmer and ruder +organization; at least we should not then be obliged to accuse the +traditions of a giant race of being mere poetic fancies." + +"It is pleasant," said the old man, "to notice the gradual pacification +of nature. A concord ever becoming deeper, a more friendly intercourse, +reciprocal aid and encouragement, seem gradually to have been formed; +and we can look forward continually to better times. It may perhaps be +possible, that here and there a little of the old leaven is fermenting, +and that still more violent convulsions are to follow; yet these mighty +struggles for a free and harmonious existence are visible; and in this +spirit will every convulsion pass over and draw nearer to the great +goal. It may be that nature is no longer so fertile, that at present no +metals or precious stones, rocks or mountains are springing into +existence, that plants and animals do not increase to such an +astonishing size and strength; but the more that physical powers are +exhausted, the more have plastic, ennobling, and social powers +increased. The mind has become more susceptible and tender, the fancy +more varied and symbolical, the hand more free and artistic. Nature +approaches man; and if she were once an uncouthly teeming rock, then is +she now a quietly thriving plant, a silent human artist And of what +service would be the multiplication of these treasures, of which there +are now enough for the most distant age? How small is the space I have +surveyed; and yet what mighty stores have I at a single glance +discovered, the use of which is left for future generations! What +riches are enclosed in the northern mountains, what favorable signs I +discovered throughout my native land, in Hungary, at the foot of the +Carpathian hills, and in the rocky vales of Tyrol, Austria, and +Bavaria. I might have been a rich man, if I had taken with me what I +might only have picked up and broken off. In many places I saw myself +as in a magic garden. On every side costly and skilfully framed metals +met my sight. From the beautiful tresses and branches of silver hung +glittering, ruby-red, transparent fruits; and the heavy-laden shrubs, +stood upon crystal ground of inimitable workmanship. One can scarcely +trust his senses in these wonderful regions, and can never grow weary +of rambling through these charming solitudes, or of gloating over their +jewels. I have seen much that is wonderful during my present journey, +and certainly in other lands the earth is equally plentiful and +fruitful." + +"When," said the unknown, "one remembers the treasures which are hidden +in the East, he cannot doubt what you remark; and have not distant +India, Africa, and Spain been distinguished even from antiquity, by the +richness of their soil? Though a soldier is not apt to take very exact +notice of the veins and the clefts of mountains, yet at times I have +reflected upon these shining tracts of land, which, like rare birds, +indicate an unexpected bloom and fruit. How little did I imagine, when +I passed these dark dwellings joyously by the light of day, that I +should ever finish my life in the bosom of a mountain! My love carried +me proudly above the surface of the earth, and I hoped in later years +to fall asleep in her embrace. The war having ended, I returned home, +full of glad expectations of a refreshing harvest. But the spirit of +the war seemed to have become the spirit of my fortune. My Maria had +borne me two children in the East. They were the joy of our existence. +The voyage and the rough air of the West destroyed their bloom; they +were buried a few days after my arrival in Europe. Sorrowfully I +carried my disconsolate wife to our home. A silent grief weakened the +thread which bound her to life. During a journey which I was obliged to +take, and on which, as was her wont, she accompanied me, she gently but +suddenly expired in my arms. It was near this place, where her earthly +pilgrimage was finished. My resolution was taken in a moment; I found, +what I had never expected; a heavenly illumination came over me; and +from the day when I buried her here with my own hands, a divine hand +freed my heart from all sorrow. Since then I have caused this monument +to be erected. An event often seems to be endings when in fact it is +beginning; and thus has it been with my life. May God grant you an old +age as happy, and a spirit as quiet as mine." + +Henry and the merchants had listened attentively to the conversation; +and the first particularly was conscious of new developments in his +prophetic soul. Many words, many thoughts, fell like quickening seeds +into his breast, and soon drew him from the narrow circle of his youth +to the heights of the world. The hours just passed lay behind him like +long-revolving years; and it seemed as if he had always thought and +felt as now. + +The hermit showed him his books. They consisted of old histories and +poems. Henry turned over the leaves of these huge and beautifully +illuminated works, and his curiosity was strongly excited by the short +lines of the verses, the titles, some of the passages, and the +beautiful pictures which appeared here and there, like embodied words, +to assist the imagination of the reader. The Hermit observed his inward +gratification and explained these singular pictures. All the varied +scenes of life were represented among them. Battles, funereal trains, +marriage ceremonies, shipwrecks, caves, and palaces, kings, heroes, +priests, men in singular costume, strange beasts, were delineated in +different alternations and connexions. Henry could not sate himself +with gazing at them, and wished nothing more than to remain with the +hermit, who irresistibly attracted him, and to be instructed by him in +these books. In the mean time the old man asked whether there were any +more caves; and the hermit told him, that there were some extensive +ones near, to which he would accompany him. The old man was ready; and +the hermit, who observed Henry's interest in the books, induced him to +remain, and to examine them more closely during their absence. Henry +was glad to stay where the books were, and thanked the hermit heartily +for his permission to do so. He turned over their leaves with +indescribable pleasure. At last a book fell into his hands, written in +a foreign tongue, which appeared to him somewhat like Latin or Italian. +He longed greatly to know the language, for the book pleased him +greatly, though he did not understand a syllable of it. It had no +title; but after a little search he found some engravings. They seemed +strangely familiar to him; and on examination, he discovered his own +form quite discernible among the figures. He was terrified, and thought +that he must be dreaming; but after having examined them again and +again, he could no longer doubt their perfect resemblance. He could +hardly trust his senses, when in one of the pictures he discovered the +cave, the hermit, and the old man by his side. By degrees he found +among the pictures the girl from the holy land, his parents, the count +and countess of Thuringia, his friend the court chaplain; and many +others of his acquaintance; yet their dress was changed, and seemed to +belong to another period. There were many forms he could not call by +name, but which nevertheless seemed known to him. He saw the exact +portraits of himself, in different situations. Towards the end he +appeared larger and nobler. The guitar rested in his arms, and the +countess handed him a wreath. He saw himself at the imperial court, on +shipboard, now in warm embrace with a beautifully formed and lovely +girl, now in battle with fierce-looking men, and again in friendly +conversation with Saracens and Moors. He was frequently accompanied by +a man of grave aspect. He felt a deep reverence for this august form, +and was glad to see himself arm in arm with him. The last pictures were +obscure and incomprehensible; yet some of the shapes of his dream +surprised him with the most intense rapture. The conclusion of the book +was wanting. Henry was very sorrowful, and wished for nothing more +earnestly than to be able to read and thoroughly understand the book. +He looked over the pictures repeatedly, and was almost abashed when the +company returned. A strange sort of shame overcame him. He did not +suffer himself to make known his discovery, and merely asked the Hermit +generally about its title and language. He learned that it was written +in the Provence tongue. + +"It is long since I have read it," said the Hermit; "I do not now +remember its contents very distinctly. As far as I recollect, it is a +romance, relating the wonderful fortune of a poet's life, wherein the +art of poesy is represented and extolled in all its various relations. +The conclusion is wanting to the manuscript, which I brought with me +from Jerusalem, where I found it left with a friend, and took it, away, +an a memorial of him." + +They now took leave of each other. Henry was moved to tears; the cave +had become so remarkable and the hermit so dear to him. + +All embraced the hermit heartily, and he himself seemed to have become +attached to them. Henry thought that he noticed his kind and +penetrating gaze fixed upon him. His farewell words to him were full of +meaning. He seemed to know of his discovery and to have reference to +it. He followed them to the entrance of the cave, after having +requested them, and particularly the boy, not to tell the farmers +concerning him, as it would only expose him to their troublesome +acquaintance. + +They all promised this. As they separated from him, and commended +themselves to his prayers, he said, + +"But a short time and we shall see each other again, to smile at the +conversation of this day. A heavenly dawn will surround us, and we +shall rejoice that we greeted each other kindly in this vale of +probation, and were inspired with like sentiments and anticipations. +There are angels who guide us here in safety. If your eye is fixed upon +Heaven, you will never lose the way to your home." + +They separated with a silent feeling of devotion, soon found their +timorous companions, and amid general conversation shortly reached the +village, where Henry's mother, who had been somewhat anxious about him, +received them with a thousand expressions of joy. + + + + + CHAPTER VI. + + +Men, who are born for business, for action, cannot too soon contemplate +for themselves and animate all things. They must themselves grapple +with and pass through many relations, must harden their whole being +against the influence of new situations, and the dissipation which a +multitude and variety of objects engenders; and they must accustom +themselves, even in the urgency of great occasions to hold fast to the +thread of their object. They should not yield to the invitations of +inactive contemplation. Their soul must not be gazing at self; it must +be ceaselessly directed to outward things, a handmaid to the +understanding, active and prompt in discrimination. They are heroes; +and events press about them which must be fulfilled, and their problems +solved. By their influence all occurrences of chance become history, +and their life is an unbroken chain of remarkable and splendid, +intricate and singular events. + +Far otherwise is it with those quiet, unknown men, whose world is their +own mind, whose activity the action of the contemplative intellect, and +whose life a gentle development of their inner powers. No desquietude +drives them to outward things. A tranquil possession satisfies them; +and the immense drama without does not entice them to engage in it +themselves; but they regard it as significant and wonderful, a source +of contemplation for their leisure moments. Longings for the spirit +hold them in the distance; and it is this spirit that destines them to +act the mysterious part of the mind in this human worlds while others +represent the outer limbs and senses, the mind's projected powers. They +would be disturbed by great and various events. A simple life is their +lot, and they become acquainted with the rich subject-matter and +countless phenomena of the world from relations and writings alone. But +seldom in the course of their lives does any occurrence draw them along +with it in its sudden vortex, in order to acquaint them by a few +experiences more accurately with the situation and character of active +men. On the contrary, their susceptible minds are already sufficiently +busied with near and insignificant phenomena, which represent the great +world as it were renewed; and they will advance no step, without making +the most surprising discoveries in themselves, concerning the nature +and significance of these phenomena. They are poets, those men of rare +inspiration, who at times wander through our dwelling-place, and +everywhere renew the ancient, venerable, service of humanity, and of +its first gods,--the stars, spring, love, happiness, fertility, health, +and the joyous heart; they, who are already here in possession of +heavenly rest, and, driven about by no foolish desires, breathe only +the fragrance of earthly fruits, without devouring them, then to be +irrevocably chained to the lower world. They are free guests whose +golden feet tread softly, and whose presence involuntarily outspreads +its wings around. A poet may be known, like a good king, by cheerful +and bright faces, and he alone justly bears the name of sage. If you +compare him with heroes, you will find that the songs of the poets +frequently awake heroic courage in youthful hearts; but heroic deeds +have probably never awakened the spirit of poesy in any mind whatever. +Henry was a poet by nature. Many events seemed to conspire to aid his +development, and as yet nothing had disturbed the elasticity of his +soul. All that he saw and heard seemed only to remove new bars within +him, and to open new windows for his spirit. The world, with its great +and changing relations, lay before him. But as yet it was silent; and +its soul, its language was not yet awakened. Soon did a poet approach, +holding a lovely girl by the hand, that by the sound of the mother +tongue, and by the movement of a sweet and tender mouth; the soft lips +might unlock and the simple harmony unfold in unending melodies. + +The journey was now ended. It was towards evening when our travellers, +in safety and good spirits, arrived at the far-famed city of Augsburg, +and, full of expectation, rode through the high streets to the spacious +mansion of the old Swaning. + +The surrounding country had already appeared delightful to the eyes of +Henry. The animated bustle of the city, and the great houses of stone +affected him strangely, yet agreeably. He experienced a real pleasure +in thinking of his future abode. His mother was very much pleased to +see herself in her native city after her wearisome journey, soon to +embrace again her father and old acquaintances, to introduce Henry to +them, and for once be able quietly to forget all household cares in the +cordial remembrances of her youth. The merchants hoped by the pleasures +there to indemnify themselves for the discomforts of their journey, and +to do a profitable business. + +Lights gleamed from the house of the old Swaning, and joyous music +swelled towards them. "What will you bet," said the merchants, "that +your grandfather is not giving a merry party? We came as if invited. +How much his uninvited guests will astonish him. He is not dreaming +that now the true festivity is about to commence." Henry felt +embarrassed, and his mother was only anxious about their dress. They +alighted; the merchants remained with the horses, and Henry and his +mother entered the splendid mansion. Not a soul belonging to the house +was to be seen below. They were obliged to ascend the lofty stairs. +Some servants ran past them; they asked them to inform the old Swaning +of the arrival of some strangers who wished to speak with him. The +servants made some objection at first, for the travellers did not +appear in very good condition as to dress, yet finally they announced +them to the master of the house. The old Swaning came out. He did not +know them at first, and asked them their names and business. Henry's +mother wept and fell upon his neck. + +"Do you not know your own daughter?" she exclaimed weeping. "I bring +you my son." + +The aged father was extremely moved. He pressed her long to his bosom. +Henry sank upon his knee and tenderly kissed his hand. He raised him to +himself and held both mother and son in his embrace. + +"Come right in," said Swaning, "I have only my friends and +acquaintances here, who will rejoice with me." Henry's mother +hesitated, but had no time to consider. The father led them both into +the lighted hall. + +"Here I bring my daughter and grandson from Eisenach," cried Swaning, +in the merry crowd of gaily dressed guests. + +All eyes were turned towards the door; all ran to it; the music ceased, +and the two travellers stood bewildered and dazzled in their dusty +dresses, in the midst of the motley throng. A thousand joyful +exclamations passed from mouth to mouth. All her acquaintances pressed +around the mother. Innumerable were the questions which were asked. +Each one wished to be recognised and welcomed first. Whilst the elder +part of the company were attending to the mother, the attention of the +younger portion was directed to the strange youth, who was standing +with downcast eyes, not daring to look again upon the unknown faces. +His grandfather introduced him to the company, and inquired after his +father and about the occurrences of his journey. + +The mother thought of the merchants, who out of politeness had remained +below by the horses. She told her father, who sent down for them +immediately, and invited them to ascend. The horses were led into the +stable, and the merchants appeared. + +Swaning thanked them heartily for the friendly escort they had afforded +his daughter. They were acquainted with many who were present, and +exchanged friendly greetings. The mother asked permission to change her +dress. Swaning led her to her chamber, and Henry followed for the same +purpose. + +The appearance of one man was very striking to Henry, who thought that +he had seen him in that book. His noble bearing distinguished him from +all the rest. His face wore an expression of serene gravity, an open, +finely arched forehead, large, black, penetrating, and tranquil eyes, a +humorous expression about his pleasant mouth, and his full manly +proportions, gave to him a meaning and fascinating appearance. He was +strongly built, his movements quiet and expressive, and where he stood +he seemed about to stay forever. Henry asked his grandfather about him. + +"I am glad," said the old man, "that you noticed him. It is my +excellent friend Klingsohr, the poet. You should be prouder of his +acquaintance than of the emperor's. But how is your heart? He has a +beautiful daughter, who perhaps will surpass the father in your eyes. +It would be strange if you had not noticed her." + +Henry blushed; "my mind has been distracted, dear grandfather. The +company is numerous, and I was looking only at your friend." + +"We see that you came from the North," replied Swaning; "we shall soon +thaw you out here. You shall learn soon to look after pretty faces." + +They were now ready, and returned to the hall, where in the mean time +preparations for supper had been made. The old Swaning led Henry to +Klingsohr, and told him that Henry had noticed him particularly, and +ardently desired to become acquainted with him. + +Henry was confused. Klingsohr spoke kindly to him of his fatherland and +of his journey. There was so much to inspire confidence in his voice, +that Henry soon gained courage and conversed with him freely. After a +little while Swaning came to them again, bringing with him the +beautiful Matilda. + +"You must receive my grandson kindly, and pardon him that he has +noticed your father before you. Your bright eyes will awaken his youth +within him. In his native land Spring comes too late." + +Henry and Matilda blushed. They gazed admiringly upon each other. She +asked him, with scarcely audible words, whether he was fond of dancing. +While he was answering in the affirmative, the merry music struck up. +He silently offered her his hand; she accepted it, and they mingled +among the rows of waltzers. Swaning and Klingsohr looked on. The mother +and the merchants were delighted with Henry's grace and with his lovely +partner. The mother had enough to converse about with the friends of +her youth, who wished her much happiness from so well educated and +hopeful a son. + +Klingsohr said to Swaning,--"Your grandson has an attractive +countenance; it indicates a clear and comprehensive mind, and his voice +comes deep from his heart." + +"I hope," replied Swaning, "that he will become your docile pupil. It +seems to me that he is born for a poet. May your spirit fall upon him. +He looks like his father, only he seems more ardent and excitable. The +former was a youth of superior talents. He was wanting, however, in a +certain liberality of mind. He might hare become something more than an +industrious and able mechanic." + +Henry wished that the dance would never end. With heartfelt pleasure +his eyes rested on the roses of his partner. Her innocent eye did not +avoid his. She appeared like the spirit of her father in the most +lovely disguise. Eternal youth spoke from her full and quiet eyes. Upon +a light blue ground lay the mild splendor of the brown stars. Her +forehead and nose were beautifully formed. Her face was like a lily +inclined towards the rising sun, and from her slender white neck, the +blue veins clung round her tender cheeks in gentle curves. Her voice +was like a distant echo, and her small head with its brown tresses +seemed but to hover over her airy form. + +Refreshments were brought in, and the dances closed. The elder people +seated themselves on one side, the younger on the other. + +Henry remained with Matilda. A young relative seated herself at his +left, and Klingsohr sat opposite him. If Matilda said but little, his +other neighbor, Veronika, was so much the more talkative. She +immediately played the familiar with him, and soon made him acquainted +with all present. Henry lost much of her conversation. He was still +with his partner, and wished to turn much oftener to the right. +Klingsohr made an end to their talking. He asked about the band with +the strange devices, which Henry had fastened to his coat. He told him +with much emotion of the girl from the holy land. Matilda wept; and now +Henry could scarcely hide his tears. For this reason he entered into +conversation with her. All were enjoying themselves, and Veronika joked +and laughed with her acquaintances. Matilda described Hungary, where +her father often dwelt, and the mode of life in Augsburg. The enjoyment +was at its height. The music put all restraint to flight, and all the +affections into a joyful play. Baskets of flowers in all their splendor +exhaled their odors upon the table, and the wine danced about between +the dishes and the flowers, shook its golden wings, and formed many +varied pictures between the guests and the world. Henry now understood +for the first time what was meant by a festival. A thousand happy +spirits seemed to gambol around the table, and to live in silent +sympathy with the joys of the happy people, and to intoxicate +themselves with their pleasures. The enjoyment of life stood before +him, like a tinkling tree full of golden fruits. Pain had vanished, and +it seemed impossible that ever human inclination should have turned +from this tree to the dangerous fruit of knowledge, the tree of strife. +He now learned what were wine and food. They tasted very richly to him. +A heavenly oil seasoned them for him, and from the beaker sparkled the +splendor of earthly life. Some of the maidens brought a fresh garland +to the old Swaning. He put it on, and kissing them, said, "You must +bring one also to our friend Klingsohr, and for thanks he will teach +you a couple of new songs. You shall have mine immediately. He beckoned +for the music to commence, and sang with a clear voice:-- + + "Surely life is most distressing, + And a mournful fate we meet! + Stress and need our only blessing, + Practised only in deceit; + And our bosoms never daring + To unfold their soft despairing. + + "What the elders all are telling, + To the youthful heart is waste; + Throes of longing are we feeling + The forbidden fruit to taste; + Would the gentle youths but deign us, + And believe that they could gain us! + + "Thinking so then are we sinning? + All our thoughts are duty-free. + What indeed to us remaining, + Wretched wights, but fantasy? + Do we strive our dreams to banish, + Never, never will they vanish. + + "When in prayer at even bending + Frightens us the loneliness, + Favor and desire are wending + Thitherward to our caress; + How disdain the fair offender, + Or resist the soft surrender? + + "Mothers stern our charms concealing, + Every day prescribe anew. + What availeth all our willing? + Spring they not again to view? + Warm desire is ever riving + Closest fetters with its striving. + + "Every impulse harshly spurning + Hard and cold to be as stone, + Never glances bright returning, + Close to be and all alone, + Heed to no entreaty giving,-- + Call you that the flower of living? + + "Ah, how great a maid's annoyance, + Sick and chafed her bosom is,-- + And to make her only joyance, + Withered lips bestow a kiss! + Will the leaf be turning never, + Elders' reign to end forever?" + +Both old and young laughed. The girls blushed and smiled aside. Amidst +a thousand railleries a second garland was brought and put upon +Klingsohr. They begged him, however, very earnestly not to give them +such a gay song. "No," said Klingsohr, "I will take good care not to +speak so lightly of your secrets; say yourselves what kind of a song +you would prefer." + +"Anything but a love song," cried the girls; "let it be a drinking song +if you like." Klingsohr sang:-- + + "On verdant mountain-side is growing + The god, who heaven to us brings; + The sun's own foster-child, and glowing + With all the fire its favor flings. + + "In Spring is he conceived with pleasure, + The bud unfolds in silent joy, + And mid the Autumn's harvest-treasure + Forth springs to life the golden boy. + + "Within his narrow cradle lying, + In vaulted rooms beneath the ground, + He dreams of feasts and banners flying + And airy castles all around. + + "Near to his dwelling none remaineth, + When chafeth he in restless strife, + And every hoop and fetter straineth + In all the pride of youthful life. + + "For viewless watchmen round are closing, + Until his lordly dreams are o'er, + With air-enveloped spears opposing + The loiterer near the sacred door. + + "So when unfold his sleeping pinions, + With sparkling eyes he greets the day, + Obeys in peace his priestly minions, + And forth he cometh when they pray. + + "From cradle's murky bosom faring, + He winketh through a crystal dress, + The rose of close alliance bearing, + Expressive in its ruddiness. + + "And everywhere around are pressing + His merry men in jubilee, + Their love find gratitude confessing + To him with jocund tongue and free. + + "He scatters o'er the fields and valleys + His innerlife in countless rays, + And Love is sipping from his chalice, + And pledged forever with him stays. + + "As spirit of the golden ages, + The Poet alway he beguiles, + Who everywhere in reeling pages + Doth celebrate his pleasant wiles. + + "He gave him, his allegiance sealing, + To every pretty mouth a right, + And this the god through him revealing, + That none the edict dare to slight." + +"A fine prophet!" exclaimed the girls. Swaning was heartily pleased. +They made some objections, but all to no purpose. They were obliged to +reach out their sweet lips to him. Henry blushed only on account of his +earnest neighbor; otherwise he would have loudly rejoiced in the +privilege of the poet. Veronika was among the garland bearers. She came +suddenly back and said to Henry, "truly, is it not a fine thing to be a +poet?" + +Henry did not trust himself to take advantage of this question. Excess +of joy and the earnestness of first love were contending in his breast. +The charming Veronika was joking with the others, and in the meanwhile +he found time somewhat to quench his joy. Matilda told him that she +played the guitar. "Ah!" said he, "how I should love to learn it from +you. I have for a long time desired it." + +"My father instructed me; he plays it matchlessly," said she blushing. + +"I believe, however," said Henry, "that I can learn it more easily from +you. How delighted I should be to hear you sing." + +"Do not expect too much." + +"O!" said Henry, "what may I not expect, since your speech merely is +song, and your form is expressive of heavenly music." + +Matilda was silent. Her father commenced a conversation, in which Henry +spoke with the most lively spirit Those who were near wondered at the +fluency of the young man's speech, and the richness of his imagery. +Matilda gazed upon him with silent attention. She seemed to delight in +his words, which were still more clearly explained by his speaking +features. His eyes appeared unusually brilliant. He turned at times +towards Matilda, who was astonished by the expression of his face. In +the warmth of conversation, he involuntarily seized her hand, and she +could not but sanction much of what he said, with a gentle pressure. +Klingsohr knew how to keep up his enthusiasm, and gradually drew his +whole soul from his lips. At last all rose. There was a general +confusion. Henry remained by the side of Matilda. They stood apart +unobserved. He clasped her hand and kissed it tenderly. She suffered +him to hold it without opposition, and looked upon him with unspeakable +kindness. He could not restrain himself, bent towards her, and kissed +her lips. She was taken unawares and involuntarily returned his ardent +kiss. "Sweet Matilda,"--"Dear Henry,"--this was all they could say to +each other. She pressed his hand, and then mingled with her companions. +Henry stood as if in Heaven. His mother came to him. He told her all +concerning his love. + +"Is it not a good thing that we have visited Augsburg?" said she. "Does +it not in truth please you?" + +"Dear mother," said Henry, "I had not represented it to myself thus. It +is most glorious." + +The remainder of the evening passed away in infinite pleasure. The old +people played, talked, and observed the dancing. The music undulated +through the hall like a pleasure-sea, and bore along the enraptured +youth upon its surface. + +Henry felt the rapturous presages of the first buoyancy of love. +Matilda also willingly suffered herself to be carried away by the +flattering waves, and only concealed from him her tender trust, her +budding inclination, behind a light flower veil. The old Swaning +noticed the growing intimacy between them, and teazed them both about +it. Klingsohr had taken a liking to Henry, and was pleased with his +tenderness towards his daughter.--The other young men and girls soon +noticed it. They brought the sober Matilda forward with the young +Thuringian, and did not conceal that they were glad no longer to be +obliged to shun Matilda's observation of the secrets of their hearts. + +It was late in the evening when the company separated. "The first and +only feast of my life," said Henry, when he was alone, and his mother +had retired wearied to rest. "Do I not feel as I felt in that dream +about the blue flower? What peculiar connexion is there between Matilda +and that flower? That face, which bowed towards me from the petals, was +Matilda's heavenly countenance, and I also now remember that I saw it +in that book. But why did it not there thus move my heart? O! she is +the visible spirit of song, the worthy daughter of her father. She will +dissolve me into music. She will become my inmost soul, the guardian +spirit of my holy fire. What an eternity of faithful love do I feel +within me? I was born only to revere her, to serve her forever, to +think of and to feel her. Does there not belong a peculiar, undivided +existence to her contemplation and worship? Am I the happy one, whose +being may be the echo, the mirror of her's? It is not owing to chance +that I have seen her at the end of my journey, that a happy feast has +encircled the highest moment of my life. It could not have been +otherwise; for does not her presence render every thing a feast?" + +He stepped to the window. The choir of the stars stood in the dusky +sky, and in the east a white glimmer announced the coming day. + +Full of rapture, Henry exclaimed, "Ye eternal stars, ye silent +wanderers, I call upon you as witnesses of my sacred oath. For Matilda +will I live, and eternal constancy shall bind her to my heart. The +morning of eternal day is also opening for me. The night is past. I +kindle myself to the rising sun, for an inextinguishable offering." + +Henry was heated, and only fell asleep late in the morning. The +thoughts of his soul flowed together into a wonderful dream. A deep +blue stream glimmered from the green plains. A boat was floating upon +the smooth surface. Matilda was sitting in it, and steering. She was +adorned with garlands, singing a simple song, and looked over to him +with sweet sadness. His bosom was oppressed, he knew not why. The sky +was clear; the flood quiet. Her heavenly face was reflected in the +waves. Suddenly the boat began to whirl. He cried out to her earnestly. +She smiled and laid down the helm in the boat which continued its +whirling. He was seized with overwhelming fear. He plunged into the +stream, but could not move, and was hurried along. She beckoned to him, +as if she had something to tell him, and though the boat was fast +filling with water, yet she smiled with unspeakable tenderness, and +looked down serenely into the abyss. Suddenly it drew her in. A gentle +breath of air passed over the stream, which, flowed on as quiet and +glittering as ever. His intense anxiety robbed Henry of all +consciousness. His heart no longer throbbed. On recovering, his senses, +he was on the dry land. He must have floated a long distance. It was a +strange country. He knew not what had happened to him. His mind had +vanished. Thoughtlessly he plunged deeper and deeper into the country. +He was excessively weary. A little spring gushed from the side of a +hill, sounding like the music of bells. In his hand he caught +a few drops, and with them wetted his parched lips. The terrible +occurrence lay behind him like a fearful dream. He walked on farther +and farther;--flowers and trees spoke to him. + +Now he felt in high spirits and at home. He heard that song again. He +ran to the place whence the sounds proceeded. Suddenly some one held +him by the clothes. "Dear Henry," cried a well known voice. He looked +round, and Matilda clasped him in her arms. + +"Why did you run from me, dear heart," cried she panting. "I could +scarcely overtake you." + +Henry wept. He clasped her to himself, "Where is the stream?" cried he +with tears. + +"Do you not see its blue waves above us?" + +He looked up, and the blue stream was flowing gently over his head. + +"Where are we, dear Matilda?" + +"With our fathers." + +"Shall we remain together?" + +"Forever," she replied, while she pressed her lips to his, and so +embraced him that she could not tear herself from him. She put a +wondrous, secret word into his mouth, and it rang through his whole +being. He was about to repeat it, when his grandfather called, and he +awoke. He would have given his life to remember that word. + + + + + CHAPTER VII. + + +Klingsohr stood before his bed and kindly bade him good morning. He was +in high spirits, and fell upon Klingsohr's neck. "That is not meant for +you," cried Swaning. Henry smiled, and hid his blushes on his mother's +cheeks. + +"Would you like to go with me," said Klingsohr, "and breakfast on a +beautiful eminence just before the city? The fine morning would refresh +you. Dress yourself. Matilda is already waiting for us." + +Henry with a thousand joyful feelings thanked him for his welcome +invitation. In a moment he was ready, and kissed Klingsohr's hand with +much fervor. They went to Matilda, who looked wonderfully lovely in her +simple morning dress, and who greeted him kindly. She had already +packed her breakfast into a little basket which she hung upon one arm, +and without ceremony gave the other to Henry. Klingsohr followed them, +and thus they passed through the city, already full of animation, to a +little hill by the river, where a wide and full prospect opened between +some lofty trees. + +"Though I have often," said Henry, "delighted in the unfolding of +varied nature in the peaceful neighborhood of her manifold possessions; +yet never has such a creative and pure serenity filled me, as today. +Those distant points seem so near to me, and the rich landscape is like +an inward fantasy. How changeable is nature, however unchangeable +appears its surface! How different is it when an angel, a spirit of +power is at our side, than when a person in distress utters his +complaints before us, or a farmer tells us how unfortunate the weather +is for him, or how much he needs some rainy days for his crops. To you, +dearest master, do I owe this bliss; yes, this bliss,--for there is no +other word that can more truly express my heart's condition. Joy, +desire, transport, are merely the members of that bliss which inspires +them with a higher life. He pressed Matilda's hand to his heart, and +his ardent gaze sank deep into her mild and susceptible eyes. + +"Nature," replied Klingsohr, "is for our mind, what a body is for +light. It reflects it, separates it into its proper colors, kindles a +light on its surface or within it, when it equals its opacity: when it +is superior, it rays forth in order to enlighten other bodies. But eyen +the darkest bodies can, by water, fire, and air, be made clear and +brilliant." + +"I understand you," dear master. "Men are crystals for our minds. They +are the transparent nature. Dear Matilda, I might call you a pure and +costly sapphire. You are clear and transparent as the heavens; you beam +with the mildest light. But tell me, dear master, whether I am right; +it seems to me that at the very point when one is most intimate with +nature, he can and would say the least concerning her." + +"That depends upon your view of her," said Klingsohr. "Nature is one +thing for our enjoyment and our disposition, but another for our +intellect, the guiding faculty of our earthward powers. We must take +good care not to lose sight of one more than the other. There are many +who only know the one side, and think but little of the other. But we +can unite them both, and that too with profit. A great pity it is, that +so few think of being able to move freely and fitly in their inner +natures, and to insure for themselves, by a necessary separation, the +most effectual and natural use of their faculties. Usually the one +hinders the other; and thus a helpless sluggishness gradually arises, +so that, if such men should ever arise with united powers, a great +confusion and contention would ensue, and all things would be tossed +here and there in an ungainly manner. I cannot sufficiently impress +upon you, to endeavor with industry and care to be acquainted with your +own intellect and natural bias. Nothing is more indispensable to the +poet, than insight into the nature of every occupation, acquaintance +with the means by which every object may be attained, and the power of +fitly regulating the presence of the spirit according to time and +circumstances. Inspiration without intellect is useless and dangerous; +and the poet will be able to perform few wonders, when he is astonished +by wonders." + +"But is not an implicit faith in man's dominion over destiny +indispensable to the poet?" + +"Certainly indispensable, because he cannot represent fate to himself +in any other light, when he maturely reflects upon it. But how distant +is this calm certainty from that anxious doubt, which proceeds from the +blind fear of superstition! And thus also the steady, animating warmth +of a poetic mind is exactly the reverse of the wild heat of a sickly +heart; The one is poor, overwhelming, and transient; the other +perfectly distinguishes all forms, favors the culture of the most +manifold relations, and is in itself eternal. The youthful poet cannot +be too cool and considerate. A far-reaching, attentive, and quiet +disposition belongs to the true, melodious ease of address. It becomes +a confused prattling, when a violent storm is raging in the breast; and +the attention is lost in a trembling emptiness of thought. Once more I +repeat it; the true mind is like the light; even as calm and sensitive, +as elastic and penetrating, as powerful and as imperceptibly active, as +that costly element, which with its native regularity scatters itself +upon all objects, and exhibits them in charming variety. The poet is +pure steel, as sensitive as a brittle thread of glass, as hard as the +unyielding flint." + +"I have indeed at times felt," said Henry, "that in the moments when my +inner nature was most awake, I was less excited than at other times, +when I could run about freely and attend to all occupations with +pleasure. A spiritual, penetrative essence permeated me, and I could +employ every sense at pleasure, could revolve every thought like an +actual body, and view it from all sides. I stood with silent sympathy +in my father's work-shop, and rejoiced when I could help him to +accomplish anything properly. Propriety has a peculiarly strengthening +charm, and it is true that the consciousness of it gives rise to a more +lasting and distinct enjoyment, than that overflowing feeling of an +incomprehensible, superfluous splendor." + +"Believe not," said Klingsohr, "that I disregard the latter; but it +must come of itself and not be bought. The rarity of its appearance is +beneficent; if more frequent, it would weary and weaken. One cannot +quickly enough tear himself from the sweet rapture which it leaves +behind, and return to a regular and laborious occupation. It is as with +pleasant morning dreams, from whose sleepy vortex one must extricate +himself by force, if he would not fall into a lassitude, continually +more oppressive, and so struggle through the whole day in sickly +exhaustion." + +"Poetry," continued Klingsohr, "will be cultivated strictly as an art. +As mere enjoyment it ceases to be poetry. The poet must not run about +unoccupied the whole day in chase of figures and feelings. That is the +very reverse of the proper method. A pure, open mind, dexterity in +reflection and contemplation, and ability to put forth all the +faculties in a mutually animating effort, and to keep them so,--these +are the requisites of our art. If you will commit yourself to my care, +no day shall pass in which you shall not add stores to your knowledge, +and obtain some useful views. The city is rich in artists of all +descriptions. There are some experienced statesmen and educated +merchants here. One can get acquainted with all ranks without much +difficulty, with people of all pursuits, and with all social +circumstances and requirements. I will with pleasure instruct you in +the mechanical part of our art, and read its most remarkable +productions with you. You may share Matilda's hours of instruction, and +she will willingly teach you to play the guitar. Each occupation will +usher in the rest; and when you have thus well spent the day, the +conversation and pleasures of a social evening, and the views of the +beautiful landscapes around, will continually renew to you the calmest +enjoyment." + +"What a glorious life you here lay open to me, dear master. Under your +guidance I shall for the first time understand what a noble mark is +before me, and how by your counsel alone I can hope to attain it." + +Klingsohr embraced him tenderly. Matilda brought them the breakfast, +and Henry asked her with a tender voice, whether she would be kind +enough to receive him as fellow pupil, and her own scholar. "I shall +probably be your scholar forever," said he, as Klingsohr turned away. +She nodded slightly towards him. He threw his arms around the blushing +maiden, and kissed her soft lips. Gently she retreated from him, yet +handed him with childish grace a rose which she wore in her bosom. She +then busied herself about her basket. Henry watched her with silent +rapture, kissed the rose, fixed it on his breast, and walked to +Klingsohr's side, who was gazing down at the city. + +"By what road, did you come here," asked Klingsohr. + +"Down over that hill," replied Henry, "where the road loses itself in +the distance." + +"You must have seen some fair landscapes." + +"We travelled through an almost uninterrupted series of beautiful +ones." + +"Perhaps your native town is pleasantly situated?" + +"The country is varied enough; it is rude, however, and a noble river +is wanting. Streams are the eyes of a landscape." + +"Your account of your journey," said Klingsohr, "agreeably entertained +me last evening. I have indeed observed that the spirit of poesy is +your kind companion. Your friends have unobservedly become its voices. +Where a poet is, poetry everywhere breaks out. The land of poetry, +romantic Palestine, has greeted you with its sweet sadness; war has +addressed you in its wild glory, and nature and history have met you in +the forms of a miner and a hermit." + +"You forget the best, dear master, the heavenly appearance of love. It +depends upon you, whether this appearance shall forever remain with +me." + +"What do you think," cried Klingsohr as he turned to Matilda who was +just approaching; "would you like to become Henry's inseparable +companion? Where you are, I remain also." + +Matilda was terrified. She flew into her father's arms. Henry trembled +with infinite joy. "Shall he then be with me forever, dear father?" + +"Ask him for yourself," said Klingsohr With emotion. + +She looked upon Henry with the most heart-felt tenderness. + +"My eternity is indeed thy work," cried Henry, whilst the tears rolled +down his blooming cheeks. + +They embraced each other. Klingsohr caught them in his arms. "My +children," he cried, "be faithful to each other unto death! Love and +constancy will make your life eternal poesy." + + + + + CHAPTER VIII. + + +In the afternoon Klingsohr led to his room his new son, in whose +happiness his mother and grandfather took the tenderest interest, +honoring Matilda as his protecting spirit, and made him acquainted with +his books. Afterward they spoke of poetry. + +"I know not," said Klingsohr, "why the representation of nature as a +poet is commonly considered poetry. She is not so at all times. Dull +desire, stupid apathy and sluggishness, are in her, as in men, exposing +qualities which wage a restless strife With poesy. This mighty battle +would be a fine subject for a poem. Many lands and ages seem, like the +majority of men, to stand entirely under the dominion of this enemy to +poesy; in others, on the contrary, poesy is at home and everywhere +visible. The periods of this battle are very worthy of the historian's +notice, and its representation is a pleasant and profitable employment. +It is usually the season of the poet's birth. Nothing is more +disagreeable to its adversary than that she, herself being opposed to +poesy, becomes a poetic personage, and often in the heat of the +engagement changes weapons with poesy, and is violently struck by her +own venomous darts; while, on the other hand, the wounds of poesy, +which she receives from her own weapons, heal readily, and only serve +to render her yet more charming and powerful." + +"On the whole," said Henry, "war seems to me poetical. People fancy +that they must fight for a possession no matter how miserable, and do +not observe that the spirit of romance excites them to annihilate all +useless baseness. They carry arms for the cause of poesy, and both +hosts follow an invisible standard." + +"In war," replied Klingsohr, "the primeval fluid is stirred up. New +continents are to arise, new races to spring forth from the great +dissolution. The true war is the war of religion; its direct end is +destruction; and men's madness appears in its full dimensions. Many +wars, particularly those which originate in national hate, belong to +this class, and are real poems. Here true heroes are at home, who, +being the noblest antitypes of poesy, are but earthly powers +involuntarily penetrated by poesy. A poet, who at the same time were a +hero, would be indeed a heavenly messenger; but our poetry is not equal +to the work of representing him." + +"How am I to understand that, dear father," said Henry. "Can any object +be too lofty for poesy?" + +"Certainly. We cannot on the whole speak for poesy itself, but only for +her earthly means and instruments. If indeed there is for every single +poet a proper district within which he must remain, in order not to +lose all breath and vantage, then there is also for the whole sum of +human powers a determinate boundary line to the capacity for +representation; beyond which representation cannot retain the necessary +strength or form, but loses itself in an empty, delusive nonentity. +Particularly as a pupil, one cannot guard enough against these +extravagances; since a lively fancy loves too well to fly to the +extreme bounds, and arrogantly endeavors to seize upon and express the +supersensual and exuberant. Riper experience first teaches us to shun +this disproportion of objects, and to leave the investigation of what +is simplest and loftiest to worldly wisdom. The older poet rises no +higher than is needful to arrange, his vast stock in a comprehensible +order, and he is careful to omit the manifoldness, which afforded him +the requisite material, and also the necessary points of agreement. I +might almost say that in every line chaos should shine through the +well-clipped foliage of order. A graceful style merely renders the +richness of the thought more comprehensible and agreeable; regular +symmetry, on the contrary, has all the dryness of numbers. The best +poesy lies very near us, and an ordinary matter is not seldom the +object of its most tender love. With the poet, poetry is confined to +limited instruments, and just so far becomes an art. Language +especially has its fixed sphere. The compass of one's native tongue is +yet narrower. By practice and reflection the poet learns to understand +his own language. He knows exactly what he can accomplish by its aid, +and will make no fruitless attempt to strain it beyond its powers. +Seldom will he collect all its powers upon a single point; for +otherwise he becomes wearisome, and even destroys the rich effect of a +well applied exhibition of its strength. No poet, but a quack, aims at +wonderful efforts."[See Note III.] + + +"Poets on the whole cannot learn too much from musicians and painters. +In these arts it is very striking, how necessary it is to take sparing +advantage of the auxiliary means of the art, and how much depends upon +proper relations. Those artists, on the contrary, can certainty accept +from us the poetic independence, and the inner spirit of each +composition and invention; particularly of every genuine work. The +execution, not the material, is the object of the art. They should be +more poetical, we more musical and graphic; yet both according to the +manner and method of our art. You yourself will soon see in what songs +you can best succeed; they will certainly be those, the subjects of +which are easiest and nearest at hand. Therefore it can be said that +poetry rests entirely upon experience. I know that in my younger days +an object could hardly seem too distant and too unknown, for such I +delighted most to sing. What was the result? An empty, meagre flash of +words, without a spark of true poetry. Thence the tale[3] is the most +difficult of tasks, and a young poet will seldom perform it correctly." + +"I should like to hear one of yours," said Henry. "The few I have +heard, though insignificant, have delighted me exceedingly." + +"I will satisfy your wish this evening. I remember one which I composed +when quite young, which is sufficiently evident still; yet it will +entertain you the more instructively, for it will recall much that I +have told you." + +"Language," said Henry, "is indeed a little world in signs and sounds. +As man rules over it, so would he rule the great world, and in it +express himself freely. And in this very joy of expressing in the world +what is without it, and of doing that which in reality was the primal +object of our existence, lies the origin of poetry." + +"It is very unfortunate," said Klingsohr, "that poetry has a particular +name, and that poets constitute a particular class. It is not, however, +strange. It arises from the natural action of the human sprit. Does not +every man strive and compose at every moment?" + +Just then Matilda entered the room. Klingsohr continued. "Consider +love, for instance. In nothing is the necessity of poetry for the +continuance of humanity so clear as in that. Love is silent; poesy +alone can speak for it. Or rather love itself is nothing but the +highest poetry of nature. Yet I will not tell you of things, with which +you are better acquainted than I." + +"Thou art indeed the father of love;" cried Henry, as he threw his arms +around Matilda, and they both kissed his hand. + +Klingsohr embraced them and went out. + +"Dear Matilda," said Henry after a long kiss, "it seems to me like a +dream, that thou art mine; yet it seems still more wonderful, that thou +hast not been so always." + +"It seems to me," said Matilda, "that I knew thee long, long ago." + +"Canst thou then love me?" + +"I know not what love is; but this can I tell thee, that it is as if I +now first began to live, and that I am so devoted to thee that I would +this instant die for thee." + +"My Matilda, now for the first time do I feel what it is to be +immortal." + +"Dear Henry, how infinitely good thou art. What a glorious spirit +speaks from thee. I am a poor, insignificant girl." + +"How thou dost make me blush! Indeed I am what I am only through thee. +Without thee I were nothing. What were a spirit without a heaven; and +thou art the heaven that upbears and supports me." + +"How divinely happy should I be, wert thou as faithful as my father. My +mother died shortly after my birth; yet my father weeps for her every +day." + +"I deserve it not, yet may I be happier than he!" + +"I would joyfully live long by thy side, dear Henry. Certainly through +thee I should become much better." + +"O! Matilda, even death shall not separate us." + +"No, Henry, where I am, wilt thou be." + +"Yes, where thou art, Matilda, will I forever be." + +"I comprehend not the meaning of eternity; yet I fancy that what I +feel, when I think of thee, must constitute eternity." + +"Yes, Matilda, we are eternal, because we love each other." + +"Thou canst not believe, dearest, how fervently, when we came home +early this morning, I knelt before the image of the holy mother, what +unspeakable things I prayed to her. I thought that I should melt away +in tears. It seemed as if she smiled upon me. I now for the first time +know what gratitude is." + +"O beloved, Heaven has given me thee to adore. I worship thee. Thou art +the holy one that carriest my wishes to God, through whom He reveals +himself to me, through whom He makes known to me the fulness of His +love. What is religion but an infinite harmony, an eternal unison of +loving hearts? Where two are gathered together, He is indeed among +them. Thou wilt be my breath eternally. My bosom will never cease to +draw thee to itself. Thou art divine majesty, eternal life in the +loveliest of forms." + +"Alas, Henry, thou knowest the fate of the roses. Wilt thou also press +the pale cheek, the withered lips, with tenderness to thy own? Will not +the traces of age be also the traces of bygone love?" + +"O that thou couldst see through my eyes into my spirit! But thou +lovest me, and canst also believe me. I cannot comprehend what is said +of the withering of charms. They are unfading! That which draws me so +inseparably to thee, that has awakened in me such everlasting desire, +is not of this world. Couldst thou but see how thou appearest to me, +what a wonderful form penetrates thy shape, and everywhere is raying +towards me, thou wouldst not fear age. Thy earthly shape is but a +shadow of this form. The earthly faculties strive and swell that they +may incarnate it; but nature is yet unripe; the form is only an eternal +archetype, a fragment of the unknown holy world." + +"I understand thee, dear Henry, for I see something similar when I look +upon thee." + +"Yes, Matilda, the higher world is nearer to us than we usually +believe. Here already we live in it, and we see it closely interwoven +with our earthly nature." + +"Thou wilt yet reveal much that is glorious to me, beloved?" + +"O! Matilda, from thee alone cometh the gift of divination. Everything +that I have is indeed thine. Thy love will lead me into the sanctuaries +of life, and the most sacred recesses of the mind; thou wilt fill me +with enthusiasm, wilt excite me to the highest contemplation. Who knows +that our love will not change to wings of flame bearing us upward, and +carrying us to our heavenly home, ere old age and death reach us? Is it +not a miracle already that thou art mine, that I hold thee in my arms, +that thou lovest me, and that thou wilt be mine forever?" + +"To me also everything seems possible, and I plainly feel a gentle +flame kindling within me. Who knows that it does not transfigure us, +and gradually dissolve all earthly ties? Only tell me, Henry, whether +thou hast that boundless confidence in me, that I have in thee. Yet I +never have felt towards any one as I do towards thee; not even to my +father, whom I love so dearly." + +"Dear Matilda, it really torments me, that I cannot tell thee +everything at once, that I cannot at once give my whole heart to thee. +For the first time in my life am I perfectly frank. No thought, no +feeling can I longer conceal from thee,--thou must know everything. My +whole being shall mingle itself with thine. A most boundless +resignation to thee can alone satisfy my love. In that indeed it +consists. It is truly a most mysterious flowing together of our most +secret and personal existence." + +"Henry, two beings can never thus have loved each other." + +"I cannot believe it possible, for till now no Matilda has lived." + +"And no Henry!" + +"Swear to me once more that thou art mine. Love is an endless +repetition." + +"Yes, Henry, by the invisible presence of my good mother, I swear to be +thine forever." + +"I swear to be thine forever, Matilda, as surely as love, God's +presence, is with us." + +A long embrace and countless kisses sealed the eternal alliance of the +blessed pair. + + + + + CHAPTER IX. + + +At evening some guests were present; the grandfather drank the health +of the young bridal pair, and promised to give them soon a splendid +marriage feast. "Of what use is long waiting?" said the old man. "Early +marriages make long love. I have always observed that marriages early +contracted were the happiest. In latter years there is no longer such a +devotion in the marriage relation as in youth. Youth, enjoyed in +common, forms an inseparable tie. Memory is the safest ground of love." + +After the meal more people came in. Henry asked his new father to +fulfil his promise. Klingsohr said to the company, "I have promised +Henry to-day to relate a tale. If it would please you I am ready to do +so." + +"That was a wise idea of Henry's," said Swaning. "We have heard nothing +from you for a long time." + +All seated themselves by the fire, which was sparkling on the hearth. +Henry sat by Matilda, and stole his arm around her. Klingsohr began. + +"The long night had just set in. The old hero struck his shield, so +that it resounded far through the solitary streets of the city. Thrice +he repeated the signal. Then the lofty, many-colored windows of the +palace began to shed abroad their light, and their figures were put in +motion. They moved the more quickly, as the ruddy stream which began to +illumine the streets became stronger. Also by degrees the immense +pillars and walls began to shine. At length they stood in the purest +milk-blue glimmer, and flickered with the softest colors. The whole +region was now visible, and the reflection of the figures, the clashing +of the spears, swords, shields, and helmets, which bowed from all sides +towards crowns appearing here and there, and finally closed round a +simple green garland in a wide circle, as the crowns vanished before +it; all this was reflected from the frozen sea that surrounded the hill +on which the city stood,--and even the far distant mountain range, +which girdled the sea, was half enwrapped with a mildly reflected +splendor. Nothing could be plainly distinguished; yet a strange sound +was heard, as if from an immense workshop in the distance. The city, on +the contrary, was light and clear. Its smooth transparent walls +reflected the beautiful beams; and the perfect symmetry, the noble +style, and fine arrangement of all the buildings were well defined. +Before every window stood earthern pots with ornaments, full of every +variety of ice and snow flowers, which sparkled most brilliantly. + +"But fairest of all appeared the garden upon the great square in front +of the palace, consisting of metal plants and crystal trees, hung with +varied jewel-blossoms and fruits. The manifold and delicate shapes, the +lively lights and colors, formed a lordly spectacle, made still more +magnificent by a lofty fountain, frozen in the midst of the garden. The +old hero walked slowly past the palace doors. A voice from within +called his name. He turned towards the door, which opened with a gentle +sound, and stewed into the hall. His shield was held before his eyes. + +"'Hast thou yet discovered nothing,' plaintively cried the beautiful +daughter of Arcturus. She lay on silken cushions, upon a throne +artfully fashioned from a huge pyrite-crystal, and some maidens were +assiduously chafing her tender limbs, which seemed a rare union of milk +and purple. On all sides streamed from beneath the hands of the maidens +that charming light, which so wondrously illuminated the palace. A +perfumed breeze was waving through the hall. The hero was silent. + +"'Let me touch thy shield,' said she softly. + +"He approached the throne and stepped upon the costly carpet. She +seized his hand, pressed it with tenderness to her heavenly bosom, and +touched his shield. His armor resounded, and a penetrating force +inspired his frame. His eyes flashed, and the heart beat loudly against +his breastplate. The beautiful Freya appeared more serene, and the +light that streamed from her became more brilliant. + +"'The king is coming,' cried a splendid bird that was perched behind +the throne. The attendants threw an azure veil over the princess, which +concealed her heaving bosom. The hero lowered his shield, and looked +upward to the dome, whither two broad staircases wound from each side +of the hall. Soft music preceded the king, who soon appeared in the +dome, and descended with a numerous train. + +"The beautiful bird unfolded its shining wings, and gently fluttering, +sang to the king as with a thousand voices: + + "The stranger fair delay no longer maketh. + Warmth draweth near, Eternity begins. + From long and tedious dreams the Queen awaketh, + When land in eddying love with ocean spins. + Her farewell hence the chilly midnight taketh, + When Fable first the ancient title wins. + The world will kindle upon Freya's breast, + And every longing in its longing rest." + +The King embraced his daughter with tenderness. The spirits of the +stars surrounded the throne, and the hero took his place in the order. +A numerous crowd of stars filled the hall in splendid groups. The +attendants brought a table and a little casket, containing a heap of +leaves, upon which were inscribed mystic figures of deep significance, +constructed of constellations. The king reverently kissed these leaves, +mixed them carefully together, and handed some to his daughter; the +rest he kept. The princess placed them in a row upon the table; then +the king closely examined his own, and chose with much reflection +before he added one to them. At times he seemed forced to choose this +or that leaf. But often his joy was evident, when he could complete by +a lucky leaf a beautiful harmony of signs and figures. As the play +commenced, tokens of the liveliest sympathy were visible among all the +by-standers, accompanied by peculiar looks and gestures, as if each one +had an invisible instrument in his hands which he plied diligently. At +the same time a gentle but deeply moving music was heard in the air, +seeming to arise from the stars gliding past each other in a wondrous +motion, and from the other movements so peculiar. The stars floated +round, now slowly, now quickly, in continually changing lines, and +curiously imitated, to the swell of the music, the figures on the +leaves. The music changed incessantly with the images upon the table; +and though the transitions were often strange and intricate, yet a +simple theme seemed to unite the whole. With incredible adroitness the +stars flew together according to the images. Now in great confusion, +but now again beautifully arranged in single clusters, and now the long +train was suddenly scattered, like a ray, into innumerable sparks, but +soon came together, through smaller circles and patterns ever +increasing, into one great figure of surprising beauty. The varied +shapes in the windows remained all this time at rest. The bird +unceasingly ruffled its costly plumage in every variety of form. +Hitherto the old hero had also pursued an unseen occupation, when +suddenly the king full of joy exclaimed, "all is well. Iron, throw thy +sword into the world, that it may know where peace rests." + +The hero snatched the sword from his thigh, raised it with the point to +heaven, and hurled it from the window over the city and the icy sea. It +flew through the air like a comet, and seemed to penetrate the mountain +chain with a clear report, as it fell downward in brilliant flakes of +fire. + +At this time the beautiful child Eros lay in his cradle and slumbered +gently, whilst Ginnistan his nurse rocked him, and held out her breast +to his foster-sister Fable. She had spread her variegated wimple over +the cradle, so that the bright lamp which stood before the scribe might +not trouble the child. Busily he wrote, at times looking morosely at +the children, and gloomily towards the nurse, who smiled upon him +kindly and kept silence. + +The father of the children walked in and out continually, at each turn +gazing upon them, and greeting Ginnistan kindly. He always had +something to dictate to the scribe. The latter observed his words +exactly, and when he had written, handed them to an aged and venerable +woman, who was leaning on an altar, where stood a dark bowl of clear +water, into which she looked with serene smiles. When she dipped the +leaves in the water, and found on withdrawing them, that some of the +writing remained still glittering, she gave them to the scribe, who +fastened them in a great book, and seemed much out of humor when his +labor had been in vain, and all the writing had been obliterated. The +woman turned at times towards Ginnistan and the children, and dipping +her finger in the bowl, sprinkled some drops upon them, which, as soon +as they touched the nurse, the child, or the cradle, dissolved into a +blue vapor, exhibiting a thousand strange images, and floating and +changing constantly around them. If one of these by chance touched the +scribe, many figures and geometrical diagrams fell down, which he +strung with much diligence upon a thread, and hung them for an ornament +around his meagre neck. The child's mother, who was sweetness and +loveliness itself, often came in. She seemed to be constantly occupied, +always carrying with her some domestic utensil. If the prying scribe +observed it, he began a long reproof, of which no one took any notice. +All seemed accustomed to his fruitless fault-finding. The mother +sometimes gave the breast to little Fable, but was soon called away, +and Ginnistan took the child back again, for it seemed to love her +best. Suddenly the father brought in a small slender rod of iron, which +he had found in the court. The scribe looked at it, twirled it round +quickly, and soon discovered, that being suspended from the middle by a +thread, it turned of itself to the north. Ginnistan also took it in her +hand, bent it, pressed it, breathed upon it, and soon gave it the form +of a serpent biting, its own tail. The scribe was soon weary of looking +at it. He wrote down everything that had occurred, and was very diffuse +about the utility of such a discovery. But how vexed was he when all he +had written did not stand the proof, and when the paper came blank from +the bowl. The nurse continued to play with it. She chanced to touch +with it the cradle; the child awoke, threw off his covering, and +holding one hand towards the light, reached after the serpent with the +other. As soon as he received it, he leaped so quickly from the cradle +that Ginnistan was frightened, and the scribe fell nearly out of his +chair from wonder; the child stood in the chamber, covered only by his +long golden hair, and gazed with speechless joy upon the prize, which +pointed in his hands, towards the North, and seemed to awake within him +deep emotion. He grew visibly. + +"Sophia," said he with a touching voice to the woman, "let me drink +from the bowl." + +She gave it him without delay, and he could not cease drinking; yet the +bowl continued full. At last he returned it, while embracing the good +woman heartily. He pressed Ginnistan to his heart, and asked her for +the variegated cloth, which he bound becomingly around his thigh. He +took little Fable in his arms. She appeared greatly to delight in him, +and began to prattle. Ginnistan devoted all her attention to him. She +looked exceedingly charming and gay, and pressed him to herself with +the tenderness of a bride. She led him with whispered words to the +chamber door, but Sophia nodded earnestly and pointed to the serpent. +Just then the mother entered, to whom he immediately flew, and with +warm tears welcomed her. The scribe had departed in anger. The father +entered: and as he saw mother and son in silent embrace, he approached +the charming Ginnistan behind them and caressed her. Sophia ascended +the stairs. Little Fable took the scribe's pen and began to write. +Mother and son were deeply engaged in conversation. The father availed +himself of the opportunity, and lavished many a tender word and look +upon Ginnistan, who returned them willingly; and in their sweet +interchange of love, both the presence or absence of any was forgotten. +After some time Sophia returned, and the scribe entered. He drove +little Fable with many rebukes from his seat, and took a long time to +put his things in order. He handed to Sophia the leaves that Fable had +written over, that they might be returned clean; but his displeasure +was extreme, when Sophia drew the writing brilliant and uneffaced from +the bowl, and laid it before him. Fable clang to her mother, who took +her to her breast, and put the chamber in order, opened the windows for +the fresh air, and made preparations for a costly meal. A beautiful +landscape was visible from the windows, and a serene sky overarched the +earth. The father was busily employed in the court. When he was weary, +he looked up towards the window, where Ginnistan stood and threw to him +all sorts of sweetmeats. Mother and son went out in order to assist in +any manner, and to prepare for the resolution they had taken. The +scribe twitched his pen, and always made a wry face, when he was forced +to ask any information of Ginnistan, who had a good memory and +recollected everything that transpired. Eros soon returned, clad in +beautiful armor, round which the varigated cloth was wound like a +scarf. He asked Sophia's advice as to when and how he should commence +his journey. The scribe was very troublesome, and wanted to furnish him +with a complete traveller's guide, but his instructions were not +regarded. + +"You can commence your journey immediately," said Sophia, "Ginnistan +can guide you. She knows the road and is acquainted everywhere. She +will take the form of your mother, that she may not lead you into +temptation. If you find the king, think of me; for then I shall soon +come to assist you." + +Ginnistan exchanged forms with the mother, whereat the father seemed +much pleased. The scribe was rejoiced that they were both going away; +particularly when Ginnistan on taking leave presented him with a +pocket-book, in which the chronicles of the house were circumstantially +recorded. Yet the little Fable remained a thorn in his eye, and he +desired nothing more for his peace and content, than that she might +also be among the number of the travellers. Sophia pronounced a +blessing upon the two who knelt down before her, and gave them a vessel +full of water from the bowl. The mother was very sad. Little Fable, +would willingly have gone with them; the father was too much occupied +out of doors, to concern himself much about it. It was night when they +left, and the moon stood high in the sky. + +"Dear Eros," said Ginnistan, "we must hasten, that we may come to my +father, who has not seen me for a long time, and has fought for me +anxiously everywhere upon earth. Do you not see his emaciated face? +Your testimony will cause him to recognise me in this strange form." + + Love hies along in dusky ways, + The moon his only light; + The shadow-realm itself displays, + And all uncouthly dight. + + An azure mist with golden rim + Around him floats in play, + And quickly Fancy hurries him + O'er stream and land away. + + His teeming bosom beating is + In wondrous spirit-flow; + A presagement of future bliss + Bespeaks the ardent glow. + + And Longing sat and wept aloud, + Nor knew that Love was near; + And deeper in her visage ploughed + The hopeless sorrow's tear. + + The little snake remaineth true, + It pointeth to the North, + And both in trust and courage new + Their leader follow forth. + + Love hieth through the hot Simoon, + And through the vapor-land, + Enters the halo of the moon, + The daughter in his hand. + + He sat upon his silver throne, + Alone with his unrest; + When heareth he his daughter's tone, + And sinketh on her breast. + +Eros stood deeply moved by their tender embrace. At length the +tottering old man collected himself and bade his guest welcome. He +seized his great horn and blew a mighty blast. The ringing echo +vibrated through the ancient castle. The pointed towers with their +shining balls, and the deep black roofs, trembled. + +The castle stood firm, for it had settled upon the mountain from beyond +the deep sea. + +Servants were gathering from every quarter; their peculiar forms and +dresses delighted Ginnistan infinitely, and did not frighten the brave +Eros. They first greeted her old acquaintances, and all appeared before +them in new strength, and in all the glory of their natures. The +impetuous spirit of the flood followed the gentle ebb. The old +hurricanes rested upon the beating breast of the hot, passionate +earthquake. The gentle showers looked around for the many-colored bow +which stood so pallid, far from the sun that most attracts it. The rude +thunder resounded through the play of the lightning, behind the +innumerable clouds which stood in a thousand charms, and allured the +fiery youth. The two sisters Morning and Evening were especially +delighted by their arrival. Tears of tenderness were mingled in their +embraces. Indescribable was the appearance of this wonderful court. The +old king could not gaze long enough upon his daughter. She was tenfold +happy in her father's castle, and could not grow weary of looking at +the well known wonders and rarities. Her joy was unspeakable, when the +king gave her the key to the treasure-chamber, and permission to +arrange there a spectacle for Eros, which could entertain him until the +signal for breaking up. The treasure-place was a large garden, the +variety and richness of which surpassed all description. Between the +immense cloud-trees lay innumerable air-castles of surprising +architecture, each succeeding one more costly than the others. Large +herds of little sheep with silver-white, golden, and rose-colored wool, +were wandering about, and the most singular animals enlivened the +grove. Remarkable pictures stood here and there, and the festive +processions, the strange carriages which met the eye on every side, +continually occupied the attention. The beds were filled with +many-colored flowers. The buildings were crowded with every species of +weapon, and furnished with the most beautiful carpets, tapestry, +curtains, drinking-cups, and all kinds of furniture and utensils +arranged in an endless order. From the hill they saw a romantic region +overspread with cities and castles, temples and sepulchres; every +delight of inhabited plains united to the fertile charms of the +wilderness and the mountain steep. The fairest colors were most happily +blended. The mountain peaks shone like pyramids of fire in their hoods +of ice and snow. The plain lay smiling in the freshest green. The +distance was arrayed in every shade of blue, and from the sombre bosom +of the sea waved countless pennons of varied hue from numerous fleets. +In the distance a shipwreck was to be seen; here in the foreground a +rustic cheerful meal of country people; there the terribly grand +eruption of a volcano, the desolating earthquake; and in front beneath +shady trees a loving couple in sweet caresses. Further on was a fearful +battle, and beyond it a theatre full of the most ludicrous masks. In +another spot of the foreground was a youthful corpse upon its bier, to +which an inconsolable lover clung, and the weeping parents at its side; +beyond was seen a lovely mother with her child at her breast, and +angels sitting at her feet, and gazing from the branches over head. The +series were continually shifting, and at last all flowed together into +one mysterious picture. Heaven and earth were in complete uproar. All +terrors had broken loose. A mighty voice cried, "to arms!" A terrible +host of skeletons, with black standards, rushed like a tempest from the +dark mountain, and attacked the life which was feasting merrily in +youthful bands among the open plains, anticipating no danger. Terrible +tumults arose, the earth trembled, the tempest howled, fearful meteors +lighted the gloom. With unheard of cruelty, the host of phantoms tore +the tender limbs of the living. A funeral pyre towered on high, and +amid shrieks which made the blood run cold, the children of life were +consumed by the flames. Suddenly a milk-blue stream broke on all sides +from the dark heap of ashes. The phantoms hastened to fly, but the +flood visibly swelled and swallowed up the detestable brood. Soon all +fear was allayed. Heaven and earth flowed together in sweet music. A +flower, wonderful in beauty, floated glittering upon the gentle +billows. A shining bow half circled the flood, and on both sides of it +sat celestial shapes on splendid thrones. Sophia sat highest with the +bowl in her hands, near a majestic man, whose locks were bound by a +garland of oak leaves, and who bore in his right hand a palm of peace +instead of a sceptre. A lily leaf bent over the chalice of the floating +flower. The little Fable sat upon it, and sang to the harp the sweetest +song. In the chalice sat Eros himself, bending over a beautiful, +slumbering maiden who held him fast embraced. A smaller blossom closed +around them both, so that from the thighs they seemed changed to a +flower. + +Eros thanked Ginnistan with thousand fold rapture. He embraced her +tenderly, and she returned his caresses. Wearied by the fatigues of the +journey, and by the manifold objects he had seen, he longed for quiet +and rest. Ginnistan, who felt deeply attracted by the beautiful youth, +took good care not to mention the draught which Sophia had given him. +She led him to a retired bath, and removed his armor. Eros dipped +himself in the dangerous waves, and came out again in rapture. +Ginnistan chafed dry his strong limbs knit with youthful vigor. He +thought with ardent longing of his beloved, and embraced the charming +Ginnistan in sweet delusion. He surrendered himself carelessly to his +tenderness, and fell asleep on the fair bosom of his guide. + +In the mean time a sad change had taken place at home. The scribe had +involved the domestics in a dangerous conspiracy. His fiendish mind had +long sought occasion to obtain possession of the government of the +house, and to shake off his yoke. Such an occasion he had found. His +party first seized the mother and put her in irons. The father also was +deprived of everything but bread and water. The little Fable heard the +noise in the chamber. She hid herself behind the altar; and observing +that there was a concealed door on its farther side, she opened it +quickly, and discovered a staircase leading from it. She closed the +door behind her, and descended the stairs in the dark. The scribe +rushed furiously into the chamber, in order to revenge himself on the +little Fable, and to take Sophia captive. Neither of them was to be +found. The bowl was also missing, and in his wrath he broke the altar +into a thousand pieces, without, however, discovering the secret +staircase. + +Fable continued to descend for a considerable time. At length she +reached an open space adorned with splendid colonnades, and closed by a +great door. All objects there were dark. The air was like one immense +shadow; and a darkly beaming body stood in the sky. One could easily +distinguish objects, because each figure exhibited a peculiar shade of +black, and cast behind a pale glimmer; light and shade seemed to have +changed their respective offices. Fable rejoiced to find herself in a +new world. She regarded everything with childish curiosity. At length +she reached the door, before which upon a massive pedestal reclined a +beautiful Sphinx. + +"What dost thou seek?" said the Sphinx. + +"My possession," replied Fable. + +"Whence comest thou hither?" + +"From olden times." + +"Thou art yet a child." + +"And will be a child forever." + +"Who wilt assist thee?" + +"I will assist myself. Where are my sisters?" asked Fable. + +"Everywhere, and yet nowhere," answered the Sphinx. + +"Dost thou know me?" + +"Not as yet." + +"Where is Love?" + +"In the imagination." + +"And Sophia?" + +The Sphinx murmured inaudibly to itself, and rustled its wings. + +"Sophia and Love!" cried Fable triumphantly, and passed the door. She +stepped into an immense cave, and joyfully reached the aged sisters, +who were pursuing their wonderful occupation, by the poor light of a +dimly burning lamp. They seemed not to notice their little guest, who +busily hovered around them with artless caresses. At last one of them +with a crabbed face roughly rebuked her. + +"What wouldst thou here, idler? Who has admitted thee? Thy childish +steps disturb the quiet flame. The oil is burning to waste. Canst thou +not be seated, and occupy thyself usefully?" + +"Beautiful aunt," said Fable, "I am no idler. But I cannot help +laughing at your door-keeper. She would have taken me to her breast; +but seemed to have eaten too much to rise. Let me sit before the door, +and give me something to spin. I cannot see well here; and when I am +spinning I must be suffered to sing and talk, which might disturb your +serious cogitations." + +"Thou shalt not go outside; but through a cleft of the rock a beam from +the upper world pierces into a side-chamber, there thou mayest spin if +thou knowest how. Here lie great heaps of old ends, spin them together. +But have a care; for if thou spin lazily or break the threads, they +will wind round and choke thee." + +The old woman laughed maliciously and resumed her labor. Fable gathered +up an armful of the threads, took distaff and spindle, and tripped +singing into the chamber. She looked out through the cleft, and saw the +constellation of Phoenix. Rejoicing at the happy omen, she began to +spin industriously, leaving the chamber door ajar, and sang in subdued +tones:-- + + Within your cells awaken, + Children of olden time; + Be every bed forsaken, + The morn begins to climb. + + Your threadlets I am weaving + Into a single thread: + In _one_ life be ye cleaving,-- + The times of strife are sped. + + Each one in all is living, + And all in each beside; + _One_ heart its pulses giving. + From _one_ impelling tide. + + Yet spirits only are ye. + But dream and witchery. + Into the cavern fare ye, + And vex the holy Three. + +The spindle turned with incredible velocity between her little feet, +while she twisted the thread with both her hands. During the song, +innumerable little lights became visible, which passed through the +chink of the door, and spread through the cave in hideous masks. The +elders continued spinning gloomily, and in expectation of the cries of +distress of little Fable. But how terrified were they when a horrible +nose appeared over their shoulders, and when upon looking around they +beheld the whole cave filled with fearful forms, engaged in a thousand +fantastic tricks. They shrunk together, howled with frightful voices, +and would have turned to stone through fear, had not the scribe entered +the cave bearing with him a mandrake root. The lights concealed +themselves in the rocky cleft, and the cave became entirely +illuminated, while the black lamp was extinguished, having been +overturned in the confusion. The old hags were glad when they heard the +scribe approaching; but were full of wrath against the little Fable. +They called her forth, rebuked her terribly, and forbade her spinning +longer. The scribe smiled grimly; because he supposed that now the +little Fable was in his power, and said, + +"It is good that thou art here, and art kept employed. I hope that thou +receivest thy share of punishment. Thy good spirit has guided me +hither. I wish thee a long life and many pleasures." + +"I thank thee for thy good will," said Fable; "lo, what a good age is +approaching thee. The hourglass and sickle only are wanting to make +thee like in looks to the brother of my beautiful aunts. If thou +needest quills, only pluck a handful of soft down from their cheeks." + +The scribe threatened to attack her. She smiled and said, + +"If thy beautiful locks and spiritual eyes are dear to thee, beware! +think of my nails, thou hast not much more to loose." + +He turned with stifled rage towards the old women, who were rubbing +their eyes, and searching for their distaffs. They could not find them +because the lamp was extinguished; but they vented their rage against +Fable. + +"Do let her go," said he spitefully, "that she may catch tarantulas to +prepare your oil. I will tell you for your consolation that Eros is +restlessly on the wing, and by his industry will keep your scissors +busy. His mother, who has so often compelled you to spin the lengthened +threads, will become a prey to the flames to-morrow." + +He laughed with joy, when he saw that Fable wept at this news, and +giving a piece of the root to the old people, departed chuckling. The +sisters, though supplied with oil, angrily ordered Fable to go in +search of tarantulas, and Fable hastened away. She pretended to open +the door, slammed it noisily, and crept stealthily to the back of the +cave, where a ladder was hanging down. She ascended quickly, and soon +came to an aperture, which opened into the apartment of Arcturus. + +The king sat surrounded by his counsellors when Fable appeared. The +Northern Crown adorned his head. He held the lily in his left hand, the +balance in his right. The eagle and the lion sat at his feet. + +"Monarch," said Fable, bending reverently before him, "Hail to thine +eternal throne! Joyful news for thy wounded heart! An early return of +wisdom! Awakening to eternal peace! Rest to the restless love! +Glorification of the heart! Life to antiquity and form to the future!" + +The king touched her open forehead with the lily, "Whatever thou +demandest shall be granted thee." + +"Three times shall I petition, and when I come the fourth time. Love +will be before the door. Now give me the lyre." + +"Eridanus," cried the king, "bring the lyre hither." + +Eridanus streamed forth murmuring from his concealment, and Fable +snatched the lyre from his boiling flood. + +Fable played a few prophetic strains. She sipped from the cup which the +king ordered to be handed her, and hastened away with many thanks. She +glided with a sweet, elastic motion over the icy sea, drawing joyful +music from the strings. + +The ice resounded melodiously beneath her step. She fancied the voices +of the rocks of sorrow were the voices of her children seeking her, and +she answered in a thousand echoes. + +Fable soon reached the shore. She met her mother who appeared wasted +and pale; she had grown thin and sad, and her noble features revealed +the traces of a hopeless sorrow and of touching constancy. + +"What has happened to thee, dear mother?" asked Fable; "thou seemest to +me entirely changed; I should not know thee except by internal signs. I +hoped once more to refresh myself at thy breast; I have pined after +thee for a long time." + +Ginnistan caressed her tenderly, and became calm and serene. + +"I thought from the first," said she, "that the scribe would not take +thee captive. It refreshes me to see thee. Poor and pinched are my +affairs now; but I console myself with hoping that it will soon end. +Perhaps I am about to have a moment of rest. Eros is near; and when he +sees thee and thou speakest with him, he may tarry some time. In the +mean time come to my bosom. I will give thee what I have." + +She took Fable upon her lap, proffered her breast, and while smiling +upon the little one who was enjoying her feast, continued, "I am myself +the cause that Eros has become so wild and inconstant. But yet I repent +it not, for those hours have made me immortal. I believe that his fiery +caresses have strangely transformed him. Long, silver-white wings +covered his glittering shoulders, and the charming fulness of his form. +The strength, which swelling forth had so suddenly changed him from a +youth to a man, seemed entirely to have withdrawn into his wings, and +he had become again a boy. The silent glow of his face became like the +dazzling fire of a will-o'-the-wisp, his holy seriousness had changed +to dissembled roguishness, the significant calm to childish +irresolution, the noble carriage to a droll agility. I felt +irresistibly attracted to the wanton boy by an ardent passion, and +suffered with pain his sneering scorn, and his indifference to my most +touching prayers. I perceived that my form was changed. My careless +serenity had fled, and its place filled with sorrowful anxiety and +shrinking timidity. I would have hidden myself with Eros from all eyes. +I had not the heart to meet his offending eye, and was overwhelmed with +shame and humility. I had no thoughts but for him; and would have given +my life to free him from his wantonness. Deeply as he had hurt my +feelings, I was compelled to worship him. + +"Since the time when he discovered himself and escaped me, I have +continually been in pursuit of him, though I have conjured him +touchingly and with hot tears to remain with me. He seems really intent +on persecuting me. As often as I reach him, he flies away again. On +every side his bow deals destruction. I have nought to do but to +console the unhappy, and yet I myself need consolation. The voices of +those who call me point out to me his path, and their mournful +complaints, when I am compelled to leave them, deeply cut my heart. The +scribe pursues us in a terrible rage, and revenges himself upon the +poor wounded ones. The fruit of that mysterious night was a multitude +of strange children, who look like their grandfather, and are named +after him. Being winged like their father, they ever accompany him, to +torment the poor ones whom his arrow wounds. But there comes the +joyous procession. I must away. Farewell, sweet child. His presence +excites my passion. Be happy in thy designs." + +Eros passed on without Ginnistan, who hastened near him, beseeching but +one look of tenderness. But he turned kindly towards Fable, and his +little companions danced joyously around her. Fable was glad to see her +foster-brother again, and sang a merry song to her lyre. Eros seemed as +if desiring to recall some recollections of the past, and let fall his +bow upon the ground. Ginnistan could now embrace him, and he suffered +her tender caresses. At last Eros began to nod; he clung to Ginnistan's +bosom and fell asleep, spreading over her his wings. The weary +Ginnistan full of rejoicing turned not her eye from the graceful +sleeper. During the song, tarantulas came forth from all sides, which +drew a shining net over the blades of grass, and with sprightly +movements accompanied the music upon the threads. Fable now consoled +her mother, and promised to her speedy assistance. From the rocks fell +back the soft echo of the music, and lulled the sleeper. From the +carefully preserved vessel Ginnistan sprinkled some drops into the air, +and the most delightful dreams descended upon them. Fable took the +vessel and continued her journey. Her strings never were at rest, and +the tarantulas followed the enchanting sounds upon their fast-woven +threads. + +She soon saw from afar the lofty flame of a funeral pile, which rose +high above the green forest. Mournfully she gazed towards heaven; yet +rejoiced when she saw Sophia's blue veil which was waving over the +earth, forever covering the unsightly tomb. The sun stood in heaven, +fiery-red with rage. The powerful flame imbibed its stolen light; and +the more fiercely the sun strove to preserve itself, ever more pale and +spotted it became. The flame grew whiter and more intense, as the sun +faded. It attracted the light more and more strongly; the glory around +the star of day was soon consumed, and it stood there a pale, +glimmering disk, every new agitation of spite and rage aiding the +escape of the flying light-waves. Finally, nought of the sun remained +but a black, exhausted dross, which fell into the sea. The splendor of +the flame was beyond description. It slowly ascended, and bore towards +the North. Fable entered the court, which was desolate; the house had +fallen. Briars were growing in the crevices of the window frames, and +vermin of every kind were creeping about on the broken staircase. She +heard a terrible noise in the chamber; the scribe and his associates +had been devoting her mother to the flames, but had been greatly +terrified by the sudden destruction of the sun. + +They had in vain struggled to extinguish the flame, and had not escaped +unhurt. They vented their pain and anxiety in fearful curses and +wailings. But more terrified were they, when Fable entered the chamber, +and rushed upon them with a furious cry, letting her anger loose upon +them. She stepped behind the cradle, and her pursuers rushed madly into +the web of the tarantulas, which revenged themselves by a thousand +wounds. The whole crowd commenced a frantic dance, to which Fable +played a merry tune. With much laughter at their ludicrous +performances, she approached the fragments of the altar, and cleared +them away, in order to find the hidden staircase, which she descended +with her train of tarantulas. + +The Sphinx asked, "what comes more suddenly than the lightning?" + +"Revenge," said Fable. + +"What is most transient?" + +"Wrongful possession." + +"Who knows the world?" + +"He who knows himself." + +"What is the eternal mystery?" + +"Love." + +"With whom does it rest?" + +"With Sophia." + +The Sphinx bowed herself mournfully, and Fable entered the cave. + +"Here I bring you tarantulas," said she to the old sisters, who again +had lighted their lamp and were busily employed. They were overwhelmed +with fear, and one of them rushed upon her with the shears to murder +her. Unwarily she stepped upon a tarantula, which stung her in the +foot. She cried piteously; the others came to her assistance, and were +likewise stung by the irritated reptiles. They could not now attack +Fable, and danced wildly about. + +"Spin directly for us," cried they angrily to the little one, "some +light dancing dresses. We cannot move in this stiff raiment, and are +nearly melted with heat. Thou must soak the thread in spider's juice +that it may not break, and interweave flowers, which have grown in +fire; otherwise thou shalt die." + +"Right willingly," said Fable, and retired to the side-chamber. + +"I will get you three fine large flies," said she to the spiders, which +had fixed their airy web about the ceiling and the walls; "but you must +spin for me immediately three beautiful light dresses. I will bring you +directly the flowers which must be worked upon them." + +The spiders were ready and began to weave busily. Fable glided up the +ladder, and proceeded to Arcturus. + +"Monarch," said she, "the wicked dance, the good rest. Has the flame +arrived?" + +"It has come," said the King. "Night is passed and the ice melts. My +spouse appears in the distance. My enemy is overwhelmed. All things +begin to exist. As yet I do not dare to show myself, for I am not alone +King. Ask what thou wilt." + +"I need," said Fable, "some flowers that have grown in fire. I know +thou hast a skilful gardener, who understands rearing them." + +"Zinc," cried the King, "give us flowers." + +The flower gardener stepped from the ranks, bringing at vessel full of +fire, and sowed shining seeds therein. Soon flowers sprang up. Fable +gathered them in her apron, and returned. The spiders had been +industrious, and nothing more was needed but to attach the flowers, +which they immediately began to do with much taste and skill. Fable +took good care not to pull off the ends which were yet hanging to the +weavers. + +She carried the dresses to the wearied dancers, who had sunk down +dripping with perspiration, and were taking a moment's breath after +their unwonted exertions. She dextrously undressed the haggard +beauties, who were not backward in scolding their little servant, and +put on the new dresses, which fitted excellently. While thus employed, +she praised the charms and lovely character of her mistresses, who +seemed really pleased with her flatteries, and the splendor of their +new appearance. Having in the mean time rested themselves, they +recommenced their mazy whirl, whilst they deceitfully promised little +Fable a long life and great rewards. Fable returned to the chamber, and +said to the spiders, "you can now eat in peace the flies which I hare +brought to your web." + +The spiders were soon impatient at being pulled back and forth by the +distracted movements of the dancers, for the ends of the threads were +still in them. They therefore ran out and attacked the dancers, who +would have defended themselves with the shears, had not Fable quietly +removed them. They therefore submitted to their hungry companions; who +for a long time had not tasted so rich a feast, and who sucked them to +the marrow. Fable looked out from the cleft in the rock, and saw +Perseus with his great shield of iron. The shears flew to it, and Fable +asked him to trim with them the wings of Eros, and then with his shield +to immortalize the sisters, and finish the great work. + +She now left the subterraneous kingdom, and flew rejoicing to +Arcturus's palace. + +"The flax is spun. The lifeless are again unsouled. The living will +govern, the dead will shape and use. The Inmost is revealed, and the +Outermost is hidden. The curtain will soon be lifted, and the play +commence. Once more I petition thee; then will I spin days of +eternity." + +"Happy child," cried the monarch with emotion, "thou art our +deliverer." + +"I am only Sophia's god-daughter," said the little one. "Permit +Turmaline, the flower gardener, and Gold to accompany me. I must gather +up the ashes of my foster-mother; the old Bearer must again arise, that +the earth may not lie in chaos, but renew her motion." + +The king called all three, and commanded them to accompany the little +Fable. The city was light, and in the streets was the bustle of +business. The sea broke roaring upon the high cliff, and Fable went +over in the king's chariot with her companions. Turmaline carefully +gathered the dispersing ashes. They traversed the earth till they came +to the old giant, upon whose shoulders they descended. He seemed lamed +by the touch, and could not move a limb. Gold placed a coin in his +mouth, and the flower-gardener pushed a dish under his loins. Fable +touched his eyes and poured out her vessel upon his forehead. Soon as +the water flowed from his eyes into his mouth, and over his body into +the dish, a flash of life made all his muscles quiver. He opened his +eyes and rose vigorously. Fable jumped up to her companion on the +swelling ground, and kindly bade him good morning. + +"Art thou again here, dear child?" said the old man, "thou of whom I +have so continually dreamed? I always thought that thou wouldst appear +before the earth and my eyes became too heavy. I have indeed been +sleeping long." + +"The earth is again light, as it always was for the good," said Fable. +"Old times are returning. Shortly thou wilt again be among thine old +acquaintances. I will spin out for thee joyous days, nor shalt thou +want an help-meet. Where are our old guests, the Hesperides?" + +"With Sophia. Their garden will soon bloom again, its golden fruits +send forth their odor. They are now busy gathering together the fading +plants." + +Fable departed, and hastened to the house. It was entirely in ruins. +Ivy was winding round the walls. Tall bushes shaded the ancient court, +and the soft moss enwrapt the old steps. She entered the chamber. +Sophia stood by the altar which had been rebuilt. Eros was lying at her +feet in full armor, more grave and noble than ever. A splendid lustre +hung from the ceiling. The floor was paved with variegated stones, +describing a great circle around the altar, which was graced with noble +and significant figures. Ginnistan bent weeping over a couch, on which +the father appeared lying in deep slumber. Her blooming grace was +infinitely enhanced by an expression of devotion and love. Fable handed +to the holy Sophia, who tenderly embraced her, the urn in which the +ashes were gathered. + +"Lovely child," said she, "thy faithfulness and assiduity have earned +for thee a place among the stars. Thou hast elected the immortal within +thee. Ph[oe]nix is thine. Thou wilt be the soul of our life. Now arouse +the bridegroom. The herald calls, and Eros shall seek and awaken +Freya." + +Fable rejoiced unspeakably at these words. She called her companions +Gold and Zinc, and approached the couch. Ginnistan awaited full of +expectation the issue of her enterprise. Gold melted coin, and filled +with a glittering flood the space in which the father was lying. Zinc +wound a chain around Ginnistan's bosom. The body floated upon the +trembling waves. "Bow thyself, dear mother," said Fable, "and lay thy +hand upon the heart of thy beloved." + +Ginnistan bowed. She saw her image many times reflected. The chain +touched the flood, her hand his heart; he awoke and drew the enraptured +bride to his bosom. The metal became a clear and liquid mirror. The +father arose; his eyes flashed lightning; and though his shape was +speakingly beautiful, yet his whole frame appeared a highly susceptible +fluid, which betrayed every affection in manifold and enchanting +undulations. + +The happy pair approached Sophia, who pronounced the words of +consecration upon them, and charged them faithfully to consult the +mirror, which reflected everything, in its real shape, destroyed every +delusion, and ever retained the primeval type of things. She now took +the urn, and shook the ashes into a bowl upon the altar. A soft +bubbling announced the dissolution, and a gentle wind waved the +garments and locks of the bystanders. Sophia handed the bowl to Eros, +who proffered it to the others. All tasted the divine draught, and +received with unspeakable joy the Mother's friendly greeting in their +soul of souls. She appeared to each one of them, and her mysterious +presence seemed to transfigure all. + +Their expectations were fulfilled and surpassed. All perceived what +they had wanted, and the chamber became an abode of the blessed. + +Sophia said, "the great secret is revealed to all, and remains forever +unfathomable. Out of pain is the new world born, and the ashes are +dissolved into tears for a draught of eternal life. The heavenly mother +dwells in all, that every child may be born immortal. Do you not feel +the sweet birth in the beating of your heart?" + +She poured from the bowl the remainder upon the altar. The earth +trembled to its centre. Sophia said, "Eros, hasten with thy sister to +thy beloved. Soon shall ye see me again." + +Fable and Eros quickly departed with their train. Then was scattered +over, the earth a mighty spring. Everything arose and stirred with +life. The earth floated farther beneath the veil. The moon and the +clouds were trailing with joyous tumult towards the North. The king's +castle beamed with a lordly splendor over the sea, and upon its +battlements stood the king in full majesty with all his suite. On every +side they saw dust-whirls, in which familiar shapes seemed represented. +Numerous bands of young men and maidens appeared hastening to the +castle, whom they welcomed with exaltation. Upon many a hill sat happy +couples but just awakened, in long-lost embraces; and they thought the +new world was a dream, nor could they cease assuring themselves of its +reality. + +Flowers and trees sprang up in verdant vigor. All things seemed +inspired. All spoke and sang. Fable saluted on all sides her old +acquaintances. With friendly greeting animals approached awakened men. +The plants welcomed them with fruits and odor, and arrayed themselves +most tastefully. No weight lay longer on any human bosom, and all +burdens became the solid ground on which men trod. They came to the +sea. A ship of polished steel lay fastened to the shore. They stepped +aboard, and cast off the rope. The prow turned to the north, and the +ship cleaved the amorous waves as if on pinions, The sighing sedge +ceased its murmur, as it glides gently to the shore. They hastened up +the broad stairs. Love admired the royal city and its opulence. In the +court the living fountain was sparkling; the grove swayed to and fro in +sweetest tones, and a wondrous life seemed to gush and thrive in its +swelling foliage, its twinkling fruits and blossoms. The old hero +received them at the door of the palace. + +"Venerable man," said Fable, "Eros needs thy sword. Gold has given him +a chain, one end of which reaches down to the sea, the other encircles +his breast. Take it in thy hand, and lead us to the hall where the +princess rests." Eros took the sword from the hand of the old man, +pressed the handle to his breast, and pointed the blade before him. The +folding doors of the hall flew open, and enraptured Eros approached the +slumbering Freya. Suddenly a mighty shock was felt. A bright spark sped +from the princess to the sword, the sword and the chain were illumined; +the hero supported the little Fable who was almost sinking. The crest +of Eros waved on high. "Throw away thy sword," exclaimed Fable, "and +awake thy beloved." + +Eros dropped the sword, flew to the princess and kissed her sweet lips +vehemently. She opened her full, dark eyes, and recognised the loved +one. A long kiss sealed their eternal alliance. + +The king descended from the dome, hand in hand with Sophia. The stars +and the spirits of nature followed in glittering ranks. A day +unspeakably serene filled the hall, the palace, the city, and the sky. +An innumerable multitude poured into the spacious, royal hall, and with +silent devotion saw the lovers kneel before the king and the queen, who +solemnly blessed them. The king took the diadem from his head, and +bound it round the golden locks of Eros, The old hero relieved him of +his armor, and the king threw his mantle around him. Then he gave him +the lily from his left hand, and Sophia fastened a costly bracelet +around the clasped hands of the lovers, and placed her crown upon the +brown locks of Freya. + +"Hail to our ancient rulers!" exclaimed the people. "They have always +dwelt among us, and we have not known them! All hail! They will ever +rule over us. Bless us also!" + +Sophia said to the new queen, "Throw the bracelet of your alliance into +the air, that the people and world may remain devoted to you." The +bracelet dissolved in the air, and light halos were soon seen around +every head; and a shining band encircled city, sea, and earth, which +were celebrating an eternal Spring-festival. Perseus entered, bearing a +spindle and a little basket. He carried the latter to the new king. + +"Here," said he, "are the remains of thine enemies." + +A stone slab chequered with white and black squares lay in the basket, +with a number of figures of alabaster and black marble. + +"It is the game of chess," said Sophia; "all war is confined to this +slab and to these figures. It is a memento of the olden, mournful +times." + +Perseus turned to Fable and gave her the spindle. "In thy hands shall +this spindle make us eternally rejoice, and out of thyself shalt thou +spin an indissoluble, golden thread." + +Phoenix flew with melodious rustling to her feet, and spread his wings +before her; she placed herself upon them, and hovered over the throne, +without again descending. She sang a heavenly song and began to spin, +whilst the thread seemed to wind forth from her breast. The people fell +into new raptures, and all eyes were fastened on the lovely child. New +shouts of exultation came from the door. + +The old Moon entered with her wonderful court, and behind her the +people bore in triumph Ginnistan and her bridegroom. Garlands of +flowers were wound around them; The royal family received them with the +most hearty tenderness, and the new royal pair proclaimed them their +viceregents upon earth. + +"Grant me," said the Moon, "the Kingdom of the Fates, whose wondrous +mansions have arisen from the earth, even in the court of the palace. I +will delight you therein with spectacles, in which the little Fable +will assist me." + +The king granted the prayer; the little Fable nodded pleasantly, and +the people rejoiced at the novel and entertaining pastime. The +Hesperides congratulated them upon the new accession, and prayed that +their garden might be protected. The king gave them welcome; and so +followed joyful events in rapid succession. In the mean while, the +throne had imperceptibly changed to a splendid marriage-bed, over which +Ph[oe]nix and the little Fable were hovering in the air. Three +Caryatides of dark porphyry supported the head, while its foot rested +upon a Sphinx of basalt. The king embraced his blushing bride. The +people followed his example, and kissed each other. Nothing was heard +but tender names and a noise of kisses. + +At length Sophia said, "The Mother is among us. Her presence will +render us eternally happy. Follow us into our dwelling. In the temple +will we dwell forever, and treasure up the secret of the world." + +Fable spun diligently, and sang with a clear voice: + + Established is Eternity's domain, + In Love and Gladness melts the strifeful pain; + The tedious dream of grief returneth never; + Priestess of hearts Sophia is forever. + + + + + + + HENRY OF OFTERDINGEN. + + + PART SECOND. + THE FULFILMENT. + + + + + + THE FULFILLMENT. + + + + + THE CLOISTER, OR FORE-COURT. + + + ASTRALIS. + + Upon a summer morning was I young; + Then felt I for the first my own life-pulse, + And while in deeper raptures Love dissolved, + My sense of life unfolded; and my longing + For more entire and inward dissolution, + Was every moment more importunate. + My being's plastic power is delight; + I am the central point, the holy source, + Whence every longing stormfully outflows, + And where again, though broken and dispersed, + Each longing calmly mingles into one. + Ye know me not, ye saw me not becoming.-- + Who witnessed me upon that happy eve, + When, a night-wanderer yet, I found at length + For the first time myself? Then flowed there not + A shudder of sweet rapture over you? + Entirely hid in honey-cups I lay; + I breathed a fragrance, calmly waved the flowers + In golden morning air. An inner gushing + Was I, a gentle striving, all things flowed + Through me and over me, and light I rose. + Then sank the first dust-seed within the shell,-- + That glowing kiss when risen from the feast! + Backward I ebbed upon my inmost life-- + It was a flash,--my powers already swell, + And move the tender petals and the bell, + And swiftly, from beneath my being's spring, + To earthly senses thoughts were blossoming. + Yet was I blind, but stars began to sweep + In light across my being's wondrous deep; + Myself I found as of a distant clime, + Echo of olden as of future time. + From sadness, love and hopefulness created, + The growth of memory was but a flight, + And mid the dashing billows of delight, + Then too the deepest sorrow penetrated.-- + The world in bloom around the hillock clings,-- + The Prophet's words were changed to double wings; + Matilde and Henry were alone united + Into one form, into one rapture plighted; + New-born I rose, to Heaven gladly leaping, + For then the earthly destinies were blent + In one bright moment of transfigurement; + And Time, no more his ancient title keeping, + Again demanded what it once had lent. + + Forth breaks the new creation here, + Eclipsing the glow of the brightest sphere. + Behold through ruins ivy-streaming + A new and wondrous future gleaming, + And what was common hitherto, + Appeareth marvellous and new. + Love's realm beginneth to reveal, + And busy Fable plies her wheel. + To its olden play each nature returns, + And a mighty spell in each one burns; + And so the Soul of the world doth hover + And move through all, and bloom forever. + For each other all must strive, + One through the other must ripen and thrive; + Each is shadowed forth in all, + While itself with them is blending, + And eagerly into their deeps doth fall, + Its own peculiar essence mending, + And myriad thoughts to life doth call. + + The dream is World, the world is Dream, + And what already past may seem, + Itself is yet in distance moulding; + But Fancy first her court is holding, + Freely the threads at her pleasure weaving, + Much veiling here, much there unfolding, + And then in magical vapor leaving. + Life and death, rapture and sadness, + Are here in inmost sympathy,-- + Who yieldeth himself to love's deep madness, + From its wounds is never free. + In pain must every bond be riven + That winds around the inner eye, + The orphaned heart with woe have striven, + Ere it the sullen world can fly. + The body melteth in its weeping, + Its bitter sighs the bosom burn; + The world a grave becometh, keeping + The heart, like ashes in an urn. + +In deep thought a pilgrim was walking along a narrow foot-path which +ran up the mountain side. Noon had passed. A strong wind whistled +through the blue air. Its dull and ever-changing sounds lost themselves +as they came. Had it perhaps flown through the regions of childhood, or +through other whispering lands? They were voices whose echo sounded in +his heart; yet the pilgrim did not appear to recognise them. He had now +reached the mountain where he hoped to find a limit to his journey. +Hoped? No longer did he cherish hope. Terrible anxiety, the sterile +coldness of indifferent despair, urged him to seek the wild horrors of +the mountains; the most toilsome path soothed the tumult of his soul. +He was weary and silent. He noticed not the gradual accumulation of +nature around him, as he sat upon a stone and cast his eye backward. It +seemed as if he were or had been dreaming. A splendor whose limit he +could not define opened before him. His cheeks were soon wet with +tears, as his feelings suddenly broke loose; he would have wept himself +away in the distance, that no trace of his existence might remain. Amid +his deep-drawn sighs he seemed to recover; the soft, serene air +penetrated him. The world was again present to his senses, and thoughts +of other times began to speak to him consolation. + +In the distance lay Augsburg with its towers; far on the horizon +glimmered the mirror of the fearful, mysterious stream. The mighty +forest bowed with grave sympathy towards the wanderer; the notched +mountain rested meaningly upon the plain, and both seemed to say, +"Hasten on, O stream, thou dost not escape us. I will follow thee with +winged ships. I will break thee, restrain thee, and swallow thee up in +my bosom! O pilgrim, confide in us! Even he is our enemy whom we +ourselves begat; let him make haste with his booty, he escapes us not." + +The poor pilgrim thought of olden times and their unspeakable delights; +but how heavily did those dear recollections pass through his mind. The +broad hat concealed a youthful face; it was pale as a night-flower. The +balmy sap of youthful life had changed to tears, his swelling breath to +deep sighs; an ashy paleness had usurped all color. + +On one side upon the declivity of the hill, he thought he saw a monk +kneeling under an old oak tree. "Might not that possibly be the old +chaplain?" he conjectured, without much surprise at the idea. The monk +appeared larger and more unshapely the nearer he approached. He now +discovered his mistake. It was an isolated rock, over which a tree was +bending. With silent emotion he clasped the stone in his arms, and with +loud sobbing pressed it to his breast. "O that yet your speech was +preserved, and that the Holy Mother would give me some token! Am I then +entirely miserable and abandoned? Dwells there then in this desert no +holy one who would lend me his prayer? Dear father, at this time pray +thou for me!" + +As he so thought to himself, the tree began to wave; the rock emitted a +hollow sounds and as from a great depth beneath the earth, clear, sweet +voices were heard singing:-- + + Her heart was full of gladness, + For gladness knew she best; + She nothing knew of sadness, + With darling at her breast. + She showered him with kisses, + She kissed his cheek so warm,-- + Encircled was with blisses + Through darling's fairy form. + +The soft voices seemed to sing with infinite pleasure. They repeated +the verse several times. All was quiet again, when the astonished +pilgrim heard some one speaking to him from the tree:-- + +"If thou wilt play a song in honor of me upon thy lute, a little maiden +will come for it; take her with thee and leave her not. Think of me +when thou comest to the emperor. I have chosen this abode, that I may +remain with my little child; let a strong, warm dwelling be built for +me here. My little one has conquered death; trouble not thyself, I am +with thee. Yet a while thou wilt remain upon earth, but the little girl +will console thee, until thou also diest and enterest into our joy." + +"It is Matilda's voice!" exclaimed the pilgrim, and fell upon his knees +in prayer. Then pierced through the branches a lengthened ray unto his +eyes, and through it in the distance he beheld a small but wonderful +splendor, not to be described, only to be depicted with a skilful +pencil. It was composed of extremely delicate figures; and the most +intense pleasure and joy, even a heavenly happiness, everywhere rayed +forth from it, so that even the inanimate vessels, the chiselled +capitals, the drapery, the ornaments, everything visible, seemed not so +much like works of art, as to have grown and sprung up together like +the full-juiced herb. Most beautiful human forms were passing to and +fro, and appeared kind and gracious to each other beyond measure. +Before all was standing the pilgrim's beloved one, and it seemed as if +she would have spoken to him; yet nothing could be heard, and the +pilgrim only regarded with ardent longing her pleasant features, as she +beckoned to him so kindly and smilingly, and laid her hand upon her +heart. The sight was infinitely consoling and refreshing, and the +pilgrim remained along while steeped in holy rapture, until the vision +disappeared. The sacred beam had drawn up all pain and trouble from his +heart, so that his mind was again clear and cheerful, his spirit free +and buoyant as before. Nought remained but a silent, inward longing, +and a sound of sadness in the spirit's depths; but the wild torments of +solitude, the sharp anguish of unspeakable loss, the terrible sense of +a mournful void, had passed away with all earthly faintness, and the +pilgrim again looked forth upon a world teeming with expression. Voice +and language renewed their life within him, all things seemed more +known and prophetic than before, so that death appeared to him a high +revelation of life, and he viewed his own fleeting existence with +child-like and serene emotion. The future and the past had met within +him, and formed an eternal union. He stood far from the present, and +the world was now for the first time dear to him, when he had lost it, +and was there only as a stranger, who would yet wander but a while +through its diversified and spacious halls. It was now evening, and the +earth lay before him like an old beloved dwelling, which he had found +again after long absence. A thousand recollections recurred to him; +every stone, every tree, every hillock, made itself recognised. Each +was the memorial of a former history. + +The pilgrim snatched his lute, and sang:-- + + Love's tears, love's glowing, + Together flowing, + Hallow every place for me, + Where Elysium quenched my longing, + And in countless prayers are thronging, + Like the bees around this tree. + + Gladly is it o'er them bending, + Thither wending, + Them protecting from the storm; + Gratefully its leaves bedewing, + And its tender life renewing, + Wonders will the prayers perform. + + E'en the rugged rock is sunken, + Joy-drunken, + At the Holy Mother's feet. + Are the stones devotion keeping, + Should not man for her be weeping + Tears and blood in homage meet? + + The afflicted hither stealing + Should be kneeling; + Here will all obtain relief. + Sorrow will no more be preying, + Joyfully will all be saying: + Long ago we were in grief. + + On the mountain, walls commanding + Will be standing; + In the vales will voices cry, + When the bitter times are waking: + Let the heart of none be aching, + Thither to those places fly! + + Oh, thou Holy Virgin Mother! + With another + Heart the sorrowing wanders hence. + Thou, Matilda, art revealing + Love eternal to my feeling, + Thou, the goal of every sense. + + Thou, without my questions daring, + Art declaring + When I shall attain to thee. + Gaily in a thousand measures + Will I praise creation's treasures, + Till thou dost encircle me. + + Things unwonted, wonders olden! + To you beholden, + Ever in my heart remain. + Memory her spell is flinging, + Where light's holy fountain springing + Washed away the dream of pain. + +During this song he had noticed nothing, but as he looked up, there +appeared a young girl standing upon the rock, who kindly greeted him +like an old acquaintance, and invited him to go to her dwelling, where +she had already prepared an evening meal for him. Her whole behavior +and carriage towards him were friendly. She asked him to tarry a few +moments, while she stepped under the tree, and looking up with an +indescribable smile, shook many roses from her apron upon the grass. +She knelt silently by his side, but soon arose and led the pilgrim on. + +"Who has told thee about me?" asked the pilgrim. + +"Our mother." + +"Who is thy mother?" + +"The Mother of God." + +"How long hast thou been here?" + +"Since I came from the tomb." + +"Hast thou already been dead?" + +"How could I else be living?" + +"Livest thou entirely alone here?" + +"An old man is at home, yet I know many more who have lived." + +"Wouldst thou like to remain with me?" + +"Indeed I love thee." + +"How long hast thou known me?" + +"O! from olden times; my former mother, too, told me about thee." + +"Hast thou yet a mother?" + +"Yes; but really the same." + +"What is her name?" + +"Maria." + +"Who was thy father?" + +"The Count of Hohenzollern." + +"Him I also know." + +"Thou shouldst know him well, for he is also thy father." + +"My father is in Eisenach." + +"Thou hast more parents." + +"Whither are we going?" + +"Ever homewards." + +They had now reached a roomy spot in the wood, where some decayed +towers were standing beyond deep ravines. Early shrubbery wound about +the old walls, like a youthful garland around the silvery head of an +old man. While contemplating the gray stones, the tortuous clefts, and +the tall, ghastly, shapes of rock, one looked into immensity of time, +and saw the most distant events, collected in short but brilliant +minutes. So appears to us the infinite space of heaven, clad in dark +blue; and like a milky glimmer, stainless as an infant's cheeks, +appears the most distant array of its ponderous and mighty worlds. They +walked through an old doorway, and the pilgrim was not a little +astonished when he found himself entirely surrounded by strange plants, +and saw all the charms of the most beautiful garden hidden beneath the +ruins. A small stone house built in recent style, with large windows, +lay in the rear. There stood an old man behind the broad-leafed +shrubbery, employed in tying the drooping branches to some little +props. His female guide led the pilgrim to him, and said, "Here is +Henry, after whom you have inquired so often." + +As the old man turned around, Henry fancied that he saw the miner +before him. + +"This is the physician Sylvester," said the little girl. + +Sylvester was glad to see him, and said, "it is a long time since I saw +your father. We were both young then. I was quite solicitous to teach +him the treasures of the Fore-time, the rich legacies bequeathed to us +by a world too early separated from us. I noticed in him the tokens of +a great artist; his eye flashed with the desire to become a correct +eye, a creative instrument; his face indicated inward constancy and +persevering industry. But the present world had already taken hold of +him too deeply; he would not listen to the call of his own nature. The +stern hardihood of his native sky had blighted in him the tender buds +of the noblest plants; he became an able mechanic, and inspiration +seemed to him but foolishness." + +"Indeed," said Henry, "I often observed a silent sadness within him. He +always labored from mere habit, and not for any pleasure. He seems to +feel a want, which the peaceful quiet and comfort of his life, the +pleasure of being honored and beloved by his townsmen, and consulted in +all important affairs of the city, cannot satisfy. His friends consider +him very happy; but they know not how weary he is of life, how empty +the world appears to him, how he longs to depart from it; and that he +works so industriously not so much for the sake of gain, as to +dissipate such moods." + +"What I am most surprised at," replied Sylvester, "is that he has +committed your education entirely into the hands of your mother, and +has carefully abstained from taking any part in your development, nor +has ever held you to any fixed occupation. You can happily say that you +have been permitted to grow up free from all parental restraints; for +most men are but the relics of a feast which men of different appetites +and tastes have plundered." + +"I myself know not," replied Henry, "what education is, except that +derived from the life and disposition of my parents, or the instruction +of my teacher, the chaplain. My father with all his cool and sturdy +habits of thought, which leads him to regard all relations like a piece +of metal or a work of art, yet involuntarily and unconsciously exhibits +a silent reverence and godly fear before all incomprehensible and lofty +phenomena, and therefore looks upon the blooming growth of the child +with humble self-denial. A spirit is busy here, playing fresh from the +infinite fountain; and this feeling of the superiority of a child in +the loftiest matters, the irresistible thought of an intimate guidance +of the innocent being who is just entering on a course so critical, the +impress of a wondrous world, which no earthly currents have yet +obliterated, and then too the sympathizing memory of that golden age +when the world seemed to us clearer, kindlier, and more unwonted, and +the almost visible spirit of prophecy attended us,--all this has +certainly won my father to a system the most devout and discreet." + +"Let us seat ourselves upon the grass among the flowers," said the old +man interrupting him. "Cyane will call us when our evening meal is +ready. I pray you continue your account of your early life. We old +people love much to hear of childhood's years, and it seems as if I +were drinking the odor of a flower, which I had not inhaled since my +infancy. Tell me first, however, how my solitude and garden please you, +for these flowers are my friends; my heart is in this garden. You see +nothing that loves me not, that is not tenderly beloved. I am here in +the midst of my children, like an old tree from whose roots, has +sprouted this merry youth." + +"Happy father," said Henry, "your garden is the world. The ruins are +the mothers of these blooming children; this manifold animate creation +draws its support from the fragments of past time. But must the mother +die, that the children may thrive? Does the father remain sitting alone +at their tomb, in tears forever?" + +Sylvester gave his hand to the sighing youth, and then arose to pluck a +fresh forget-me-not, which he tied to a cypress branch and brought to +him. The evening wind waved strangely in the tops of the pines which +stood beyond the ruins, and sent over their hollow murmur. Henry hid +his face bedewed with tears upon the neck of the good Sylvester, and +when he looked again, the evening star arose in full glory above the +forest. + +After some silence, Sylvester began; "You would probably like to be at +Eisenach among your friends. Your parents, the excellent countess, your +father's upright neighbors, and the old chaplain make a fair social +circle. Their conversation must have produced an early influence upon +you, particularly as you were the only child. I also imagine the +country to be very striking and agreeable." + +"I learn for the first time," said Henry, "to esteem my native country +properly, since my absence, and the sight of many other lands. Every +plant, every tree, every hill and mountain has its own horizon, its +peculiar landscape, which belongs to it, and explains its whole +structure and nature. Only men and animals can visit all countries; all +countries are theirs. Thus together they form one great region, one +infinite horizon, whose influence upon men and animals is just as +visible, as that of a more narrow circuit upon the plant. Hence men who +have travelled, birds of passage, and beasts of prey, are distinguished +among other faculties, for a remarkable intelligence. Yet they +certainly possess more or less susceptibility to the influence of these +circles, and of their varied contents and arrangement. The attention +and composure necessary to contemplate properly the alternation and +connexion of things, and then to reflect upon and compare them, are in +fact wanting to most men. I myself often feel how my native land has +breathed upon my earliest thoughts imperishable colors, and how its +image has become a peculiar feature of my mind, which I am ever better +explaining to myself, the deeper I perceive that fate and mind are but +names of one idea." + +"Upon me," said Sylvester, "living nature, the emotive outer-garment of +a landscape, has always produced a most powerful effect. Especially I +am never tired of examining most carefully the different natures of +plants. All productions of the earth are its primitive language; every +new leaf, every particular flower, is everywhere a mystery, which +presses outward; and since it cannot move itself at love and joy, nor +come to words, becomes a mute, quiet plant. When we find such a flower +in solitude, is it not as if everything about it were glorified, and as +if the little feathered songsters loved most to linger near it? One +could weep for joy, and separated from the world, plant hand and foot +in the earth, to give it root, and never abandon the happy +neighborhood. Over all the sterile world is spread this green, +mysterious carpet of love. Every Spring it is renewed, and its peculiar +writing is legible only to the loved one, like the nosegay of the +East; he will read forever, yet never enough, and will perceive daily +new meanings, new delightful revelations of loving nature. This +infinite enjoyment is the secret charm, which the survey of the earth's +surface has for me, while each region solves other riddles, and has +always led me to divine whence I came and whither I go." + +"Yes," said Henry, "we began to speak of childhood's years, and of +education, because we are in your garden; and the revelation of +childhood, the innocent world of flowers, imperceptibly brought to our +thoughts and lips the recollection of old acquaintanceship. My father +is also very fond of gardening, and spends the happiest hours of his +life among the flowers. This has certainly kept his heart open towards +children, since flowers are their counterpart. The teeming opulence of +infinite life, the mighty powers of later times, the splendor of the +end of the world, and the golden future which awaits all things, we +here see closely entwined, but still to be most plainly and clearly in +tender youthfulness. All-powerful love is already working, but does not +yet enflame; it is no devouring fire, but a melting vapor; and however +intimate the union of the tenderest souls may be, yet it is accompanied +by no intense excitement, no consuming madness, as in brutes. Thus is +childhood below here nearest to the earth; as on the other hand clouds +are perhaps the types of the second, higher childhood, of the paradise +regained; and hence they so beneficently shed their dew upon the +first." + +"There is indeed something very mysterious in the clouds," said +Sylvester, "and certain overcloudings often have a wonderful influence +upon us. Trailing over our heads, they would take us up and away in +their cold shades; and when their form is lovely and varied, like an +outbreathed wish of our soul, then the clearness and the splendid +light, which reigns upon earth, is like a presage of unknown, ineffable +glory. But there are also dark, solemn, and fearful overcloudings, in +which all the terrors of old night appear to threaten. The sky seems as +if it never would be clear again; the serene blue is hidden; and a wan +copper hue upon the dark gray ground awakens fear and anxiety in every +bosom. Then when the blasting beams shoot downwards, and with fiendish +laughter the crashing thunder-peals fall after them, we are struck to +our souls; and unless there arises the lofty consciousness of our moral +superiority, we fancy that we are delivered over to the terrors of hell +and all the powers of darkness. They are echoes of the old, unhuman +nature, but awakening voices too of the higher nature of divine +conscience within us. The mortal totters to its base; the immortal +grows more serene and recognises itself." + +"Then," said Henry, "when will there be no more terror or pain, want or +evil in the universe?" + +"When there is but one power, the power of conscience; when nature +becomes chaste and pure. There is but one cause of evil,--common +frailty,--and this frailty is nothing but a weak moral susceptibility, +and a deficiency in the attraction of freedom." + +"Explain to me the nature of Conscience." + +"I were God, could I do so; for when we comprehend it. Conscience +exists. Can you explain to me the essence of poetry?" + +"A personality cannot be distinctly defined." + +"How much less then the secret of the highest indivisibility. Can music +be explained to the deaf?" + +"If so, would the sense itself be part of the new world opened by it? +Does one understand facts only when one has them?" + +"The universe is separated into an infinite system of worlds, ever +encompassed by greater worlds. All senses are in the end but one. One +sense conducts, like one world, gradually to all worlds. But everything +has its time and its mode. Only the Person of the universe can detect +the relations sustained by our world. It is difficult to say, whether +we, within the sensuous limits of corporeity, could really augment our +world with new worlds, our sense with new senses, or whether every +increase of our knowledge, every newly acquired ability, is only to be +considered as the development of our present organization." + +"Perhaps both are one," said Henry. "For my own part, I only know that +Fable is the collective instrument of my present world. Even +Conscience, that sense and world-creating power, that germ of all +Personality, appears to me like the spirit of the world-poem, like the +event of the eternal, romantic confluence of the infinitely mutable +common life. + +"Dear pilgrim," Sylvester replied, "the Conscience appears in every +serious perfection, in every fashioned truth. Every inclination and +ability transformed by reflection into a universal type becomes a +phenomenon, a phase of Conscience. All formation tends to that which +can only be called Freedom; though by that is not meant an idea, but +the creative ground of all being. This freedom is that of a guild. The +master exercises free power according to design, and in defined and +well digested method. The objects of his art are his, and he can do +with them as he pleases, nor is he fettered or circumscribed by them. +To speak accurately, this all-embracing freedom, this mastership of +dominion, is the essence, the impulse of Conscience. In it is revealed +the sacred peculiarity, the immediate creation of Personality, and +every action of the master, is at once the announcement of the lofty, +simple, evident world--God's word." + +"Then is that, which I remember was once called morality, only religion +as Science, the so called theology in its proper sense? Is it but a +code of laws related to worship as nature is to God, a construction of +words, a train of thoughts, which indicates, represents the upper +world, and extends it to a certain point of progress--the religion for +the faculty of insight and judgment--the sentence, the law of the +solution and determination of all the possible relations which a +personal being sustains?" + +"Certainly," said Sylvester, "Conscience is the innate mediator of +every man. It takes the place of God upon earth, and is therefore to +many the highest and the final. But how far was the former science, +called virtue or morality, from the pure shape of this lofty, +comprehensive, personal thought! Conscience is the peculiar essence of +man fully glorified, the divine archetypal man (Urmensch.) It is not +this thing and that thing; it does not command in a common tongue, it +does not consist of distinct virtues. There is but one virtue,--the +pure, solemn Will, which, at the moment of decision chooses, resolves +instantaneously. In living and peculiar oneness it dwells and inspires +that tender emblem, the human body, and can excite all the spiritual +members to the truest activity." + +"O excellent father!" exclaimed Henry, "with what joy fills me the +light which flows from your words! Thus the true spirit of Fable is the +spirit of virtue in friendly disguise; and the proper spirit of the +subordinate art of poetry is the emotion of the loftiest, most personal +existence. There is a surprising selfness (Selbstheit) between a +genuine song and a noble action. The disfranchised conscience in a +smooth, unresisting world, becomes an enchaining conversation, an +all-narrating fable. In the fields and halls of this old world lives +the poet, and virtue is the spirit of his earthly acts and influences; +and as this is the indwelling divinity among men, the marvellous reflex +of the higher world, so also is Fable. How safely can the poet now +follow the guidance of his inspiration, or if he possesses a lofty, +transcendent sense, follow higher essences, and submit to his calling +with child-like humility. The higher voice of the universe also speaks +within him, and cries with enchanting words to kindlier and more +familiar worlds. As religion is related to virtue, so is inspiration to +mythology; and as the history of revelation is treasured in sacred +writings, so the life of a higher world expresses itself in mythology +in manifold ways, in poems of wonderful origin. Fable and history +sustain to each other the most intimate relations, through paths the +most intricate, and disguises the most extraordinary; and the Bible and +mythology are constellations of one orbit." + +"What you say is perfectly true," said Sylvester; "and now you can +probably comprehend that all nature subsists by the spirit of virtue +alone, and must ever become more permanent. It is the all-inflaming, +the all-quickening light in the embrace of earth. From the firmament, +that lofty dome of the starry realm, down to the ruffling carpet of the +varied meadow, all things will be sustained by it, united to us and +made comprehensible; and by it the unknown course of infinite nature's +history will be conducted to its consummation." + +"Yes; and you have often as beautifully shown, before now, the +connexion between virtue and religion. Everything, which experience and +earthly activity embrace, forms the province of Conscience, which +unites this world with higher worlds. With a loftier sense religion +appears, and what formerly seemed an incomprehensible necessity of our +inmost nature, a universal law without any definite intent, now becomes +a wonderful, domestic, infinitely varied, and satisfying world, an +inconceivably interior communion of all the spiritual with God, and a +perceptible, hallowing presence of the only One, or of his Will, of his +Love in our deepest self." + +"The innocence of your heart," Sylvester replied, "makes you a prophet. +All things will be revealed to you, and for you the world and its +history will be transformed into holy writ, just as the sacred writings +evince how the universe can be revealed in simple words, or narratives, +if not directly, yet mediately by hinting at and exciting higher +senses. My connexion with nature has led me to the point where the joy +and inspiration of language have brought you. Art and history have made +me acquainted with nature. My parents dwelt in Sicily, not far from the +famous Mount Ætna. Their dwelling was a comfortable house in the +ancient style, hidden by old chestnut trees near the rocky shore of the +sea, and affording the attraction of a garden stocked with various +plants. Near were many huts, in which dwelt fishermen, herdsmen, and +vine-dressers. Our chambers and cellar were amply provided with +everything that supports and gives enjoyment to life, and by well +bestowed labor, our arrangements were agreeable to the most refined +senses. Moreover there was no lack of those manifold objects, whose +contemplation and use elevate the mind above ordinary life and its +necessities, preparing it for a more suitable condition, and seem to +promise and procure for it the pure enjoyment of its full and proper +nature. You might have seen there marble statues, storied vases, small +stones with most distinct figures, and other articles of furniture, the +relics perhaps of other and happier times. Also many scrolls of +parchment lay in folds upon each other, in which were treasured, in +their long succession of letters, the knowledge, sentiments, histories, +and poems of that past time, in most agreeable and polished +expressions. The calling of my father, who had by degrees become an +able astrologer, attracted to him many inquiring visiters, even from +distant lands; and as the knowledge of the future seemed to men a rare +and precious gift, they were led to remunerate him richly for his +communication; so that he was enabled, by the gifts he received, to +defray the expenses of a comfortable and even luxurious style of life." + + * * * * * + +The author advanced no farther in the composition of this second part, +which he called "The Fulfilment," as he had called the first "The +Expectation," because all that was left to anticipation in the latter +was explained and fulfilled in the former. It was the design of the +author to write, after the completion of Ofterdingen, six romances for +the statement of his views of physical science, civil life, commerce, +history, political science, and of love; as his views of poetry had +been given in Ofterdingen. I need not remind the intelligent reader, +that the author in this poem has not adhered very closely to the time +or the person of that well known Minnesinger, though every part brings +him and his time to remembrance. It is an irreparable loss, not only to +the friends of the author, but to the art itself, that he could not +have finished this romance, the originality and great design of which +would have been better developed in the second than in the first part. +For it was by no means his object to represent this or that occurrence, +to embrace one side of poetry, and explain it by figures and narrative; +but it was his intention, as is plain from the last chapter of the +first part, to express the real essence of poetry and explain its +inmost aim. + +To this end nature, history, war, and civil life, with their usual +events, are all transformed to poetry, as that is the spirit which +animates all things. + +I shall endeavor as far as possible, from my memory of conversations +with my friend, and from what I can discover in the papers he has left, +to give the reader some idea of the plan and subject-matter of the +second part of this work. + +To the poet, who has apprehended the essence of his art at its central +point, nothing appears contradictory or strange; to him all riddles are +solved. By the magic of fancy he can unite all ages and all worlds; +wonders vanish, and all things change to wonders. So is this book +written; and the reader will find the boldest combinations, +particularly in the tale which closes the first part. Here are renewed +all those differences by which ages seem separated, and hostile worlds +meet each other. The poet wished particularly to make this tale the +transition-point to the second part, in which the narrative soars from +the common to the marvellous, and both are mutually explained and +restored; the spirit of the prologue in verse should return at each +chapter, and this state of mind, this wonderful view of things should +be permanent. By this means the invisible world remains in eternal +connexion with the visible. This speaking spirit is poetry itself; but +at the same time the sidereal man who is born from the love of Henry +and Matilda. In the following lines, which should have their place in +Ofterdingen, the author has expressed in the simplest manner the +interior spirit of his works: + + When marks and figures cease to be + For every creature's thoughts the key, + When they will even kiss or sing + Beyond the sage's reckoning, + When life, to Freedom will attain, + And Freedom in creation reign, + When Light and Shade, no longer single, + In genuine splendor intermingle, + And one in tales and poems sees + The world's eternal histories,-- + Then will our whole inverted being + Before a secret word be fleeing. + +The gardener, who converses with Henry, is the same old man who had +formerly entertained Ofterdingen's father. The young girl, whose name +is Cyane, is not his child, but the daughter of the Count of +Hohenzollern. She came from the East; and though it was at an early +age, yet she can recollect her home. She has long lived a strange life +in the mountains, among which she was brought up by her deceased +mother. She has lost in early life a brother, and has narrowly escaped +death in a vaulted tomb; but an old physician rescued her in some +peculiar way. She is gentle, and kind, and very familiar with the +supernatural. She tells the poet her history as she had heard it once +from her mother. She sends him to a distant cloister, whose monks seem +to be a kind of spirit-colony; everything is like a mystic, magic +lodge. They are the priests of the holy fire in youthful minds. He +hears the distant chant of the brothers; in the church itself, he has a +vision. With an old monk Henry converses about death and magic, has +presentiment of death--and of the philosopher's stone; visits the +cloister-garden and the churchyard, concerning which latter I find the +following poem:-- + + Praise ye now our still carousals, + Gardens, chambers decked so gaily, + Household goods as for espousals, + Our possessions praise. + Mew guests are coming daily, + Some late, the others early; + On the spacious hearth forever + Glimmereth a new life-blaze. + + Thousand vessels wrought with cunning, + Once bedewed with thousand tears, + Golden rings and spurs and sabres, + Are our treasury; + Many gems of costly mounting + Wist we of in dark recesses, + None can all our wealth be counting, + Counts he even ceaselessly. + + Children of a time evanished, + Heroes from the hoary ages, + Starry spirits high excelling, + Wondrously combine, + Graceful women, solemn sages, + Life in all its motley stages, + In one circle here are dwelling, + In the olden world recline. + + None is evermore molested; + None who joyously hath feasted, + At our sumptuous table seated, + Wisheth to be gone. + Hushed is sorrow's loud complaining, + Wonders are no longer greeted, + Bitter tears no longer raining, + Hour-glass ever floweth on. + + Holy kindness deeply swelling, + In blest contemplation buried, + Heaven in the soul is dwelling + With a cloudless breast; + In our raiment long and flowing + Through spring-meadows are we carried, + Where rude winds are never blowing, + In this land of perfect rest. + + Pleasing lure of midnight hours + Quiet sphere of hidden powers, + Rapture of mysterious pleasure, + These alone our prize; + Ours alone that highest measure, + Where ourselves in streamlets pouring, + Then in dew-drops upward soaring, + Drink we as we flow or rise. + + First with us grew life from love; + Closely like the elements + Do we mangle Being's waves, + Foaming heart with heart. + Hotly separate the waves, + For the strife of elements + Is the highest life of love, + And the very heart of hearts. + + Whispered talk of gentle wishes + Hear we only, we are gazing + Ever into eyes transfigured, + Tasting nought but mouth and kiss; + All that we are only touching, + Change to balmy fruits and glowing, + Change to bosoms soft and tender, + Offerings to daring bliss. + + The desire is ever springing, + On the loved one to be clinging, + Round him all our spirit flinging, + One with him to be,-- + Ardent impulse ever heeding + To consume in turn each other, + Only nourished, only feeding + On each other's ecstasy. + + So in love and lofty rapture + Are we evermore abiding, + Since that lurid life subsiding, + In the day grew pale; + Since the pyre its sparkles scattered, + And the sod above us sinking, + From around the spirit shrinking + Melted then the earthly veil. + + Spells around remembrance woven, + Holy sorrow's trembling gladness, + Tone-like have our spirits cloven, + Cooled their glowing blood. + Wounds there are, forever paining; + A profound, celestial sadness, + Within all our hearts remaining, + Us dissolveth in one flood. + + And in flood we forth are gushing, + In a secret manner flowing + To the ocean of all living, + In the One profound; + And from out His heart while rushing, + To our circle backward going, + Spirit of the loftiest striving + Dips within our eddying round. + + All your golden chains be shaking + Bright with emeralds and rubies, + Flash and clang together making, + Shake with joyous note. + From the damp recesses waking, + From the sepulchres and ruins, + On your cheeks the flush of heaven, + To the realm of Fable float. + + O could men, who soon will follow + To the spirit-land, be dreaming + That we dwell in all their joyance, + All the bliss they taste, + They would burn with glad upbuoyance + To desert the life so hollow,-- + O, the hours away are streaming, + Come, beloved, hither haste. + + Aid to fetter the Earth-spirit, + Learn to know the sense of dying, + And the word of life discover; + Hither turn at last. + Soon will all thy power be over, + Borrowed light away be flying, + Soon art fettered, O Earth-spirit, + And thy time of empire past. + +This poem was perhaps a prologue to a second chapter. Now an entirely +new period of the work would have opened; the highest life proceeding +from the stillest death; he has lived among the dead and conversed with +them. Now the book would have become nearly dramatic, the epic tone, as +it were, uniting together and simply explaining the single scenes. +Henry suddenly finds himself in Italy, distracted, rent with wars; he +sees himself the leader of an army. All the elements of war play in +poetic colors. With an irregular band, he attacks a hostile city; here +appears in episode the love of a noble of Pisa for a Florentine maiden. +War-songs--"a great war, like a duel, noble, philosophical, human +throughout. Spirit of the old chivalry; the tournament. Spirit of +bacchanalian sadness.[4] Men must fall by each other,--nobler than to +fall by fate. They seek death.--Honor, fame, is the warrior's joy and +life. The warrior lives in death and like a shade. Desire for death is +the warrior-spirit. Upon the earth is war at home; it must be upon +earth."--In Pisa Henry finds the Son of Frederick the Second, who +becomes his confidential friend. He also travels to Loretto. Several +songs were to follow here. + +The poet is cast away on the shores of Greece by a tempest. The old +world with its heroes and treasures of art fills his mind. He converses +with a Grecian about morality. Everything from ancient times is present +to him; he learns to understand the old pictures and histories. +Conversation upon Grecian polity and mythology. + +After becoming acquainted with the heroic age and with antiquity, he +visits the Holy Land, for which he had felt so great a longing from his +youth. He seeks Jerusalem, and acquaints himself with Oriental poetry. +Strange events among the infidels detain him in desert regions; he +discovers the family of the eastern girl (see Part I.): the manners and +life of nomadic tribes.--Persian tales, recollections of the remotest +antiquity. The book during all these various events was to retain its +characteristic hue, and recall to mind the blue flower: throughout, the +most distant and distinct traditions were to be knit together, Grecian, +Oriental, Biblical, Christian, with reminiscences of and references to +both the Indian and Northern mythology.--The Crusades.--Life at sea.-- +Henry visits Rome. Roman history. + +Sated with his experiences, Henry at length returns to Germany. He +finds his grandfather, a profound character; Klingsohr is in his +society. An evening's conversation with them. + +Henry joins the court of Frederick, and becomes personally acquainted +with the emperor. The court would have made a worthy appearance, +portraying the best, greatest, and most remarkable men, collected from +the whole world, whose centre is the emperor himself. Here appears the +greatest splendor, and the truly great world. German character and +German history are explained. Henry converses with the emperor +concerning government and the empire; obscure hints of America and the +Indies. The sentiments of a prince,--the mystic emperor,--the book, "De +tribus impostoribus." + +Henry having now, in a new and higher method than in the Expectation, +lived through and observed nature, life, and death, war, the East, +history, and poetry, turns back into his mind as to an old home. Front +his knowledge of the world and of himself arises the impulse for +expression; the wondrous world of fable now draws the nearest, because +the heart is fully open to its comprehension. + +In the Manesian collection of Minnesingers, we find a rather obscure +rival song of Henry of Ofterdingen and Klingsohr with other poets; +instead of this, jousting, the author would have represented another +peculiar poetic contest, the war of the good and evil principles in +songs of religion and irreligion, the invisible world contrasted with +the visible. "Out of Enthusiasm the poets in bacchanalian intoxication +contend for death." The sciences are poetized; mathematics also enters +the lists. The plants of India are commemorated in song; new +glorification of Indian mythology. + +This is Henry's last act upon the earth; the transition to his own +glorification. This is the solution of the whole work, the _Fulfilment_ +of the allegory which concludes the First Part. Everything is explained +and completed, supernaturally and yet most naturally. The partition +between Fiction and Truth, between the Past and the Present has fallen +down. Faith, Fancy, and Poetry lay open the internal world. + +Henry reaches Sophia's land, in Nature, such as might be allegorically +painted; after having conversed with Klingsohr concerning certain +singular signs and omens. These are mostly awakened by an old song +which he hears by chance, and in which is described a deep water in a +secluded spot. The song excites within him long forgotten +recollections; he visits the water, and finds a small golden key, which +a raven had stolen from him some time before, and which he had never, +expected to find. An old man had given it to him soon after Matilda's +death, with the injunction that he should carry it to the emperor, who +would tell him what to do with it. Henry seeks the emperor, who is +highly rejoiced and gives him an ancient manuscript, in which it is +written that the emperor should give it to that man who ever brought +him a golden key; that this man would discover in a secret place an old +talisman, a carbuncle for his crown, in which a space was yet left for +it. The place itself is also described in the parchment. After reading +the description, Henry takes the road to a mountain, and meets on the +way the stranger who first told him and his parents concerning the blue +flower; he converses with him about Revelation. He enters the mountain +and Cyane trustingly follows him. + +He soon reaches that wonderful land in which air and water, flowers and +animals, differ entirely from those of earthly nature. The poem at the +same time changes in many places to a play. "Men, beasts, plants, +stones and stars, the elements, sounds, colors, meet like one family, +act and converse like one race. Flowers and brutes converge concerning +men. The world of fable is again visible; the real world is itself +regarded as a fable." He finds the blue flower; it is Matilda, who +sleeps and has the carbuncle. A little girl, their child, sits by a +coffin, and renews his youth. "This child is the primeval world, the +close of the golden time." "Here the Christian religion is reconciled +with the Heathen. The history of Orpheus, of Psyche, and others are +sung." + +Henry plucks the blue flower, and delivers Matilda from her +enchantment, but she is lost to him again; he becomes senseless through +pain, and changes to a stone. "Edda (the blue flower, the Eastern +Maiden, Matilda) sacrifices herself upon the stone; he is transformed +to a melodious tree. Cyane hews down the tree and burns herself with +him. He becomes a golden ram. Edda, Matilda, is obliged to sacrifice +it. He becomes a man again. During these metamorphoses he has the very +strangest conversations." + +He is happy with Matilda, who is both the Eastern Maiden and Cyane. A +joyous spirit-festival is celebrated. All that has past was Death, the +last dream and awakening. "Klingsohr comes again as king of Atlantis. +Henry's mother is Fancy, his father, Sense. Swaning is the Moon; the +miner is the antiquary and at the same time Iron. The emperor Frederick +is Arcturus. The Count of Hohenzollern and the merchants also return." +Everything flows into an allegory. Cyane brings the stone to the +emperor; but Henry is now himself the poet of the fabulous tale which +the merchants had formerly related to him. + +The blissful land suffers yet again by enchantment, while subjected to +the changes of the Seasons. Henry destroys the realm of the Sun. The +whole work was to close with a long poem, only the beginning of which +was composed. + + + + + THE NUPTIALS OF THE SEASONS. + + + Deep buried in thought stood the new monarch. He was recalling + Dreams of the midnight, and every wonderful tale, + Which gathered he first from the heavenly flower, when stricken + Gently by prophecy, love all-subduing he felt. + He thought still he heard the accents deeply impressive, + Just as the guest was deserting the circle of joy; + Fleeting gleams of the moon illumined the clattering window, + And in the breast of the youth there raged a passionate glow. + Edda, whispered the monarch, what is the innermost longing + In the bosom that loves? What his ineffable grief? + Say it, for him would we comfort, the power is ours, and noble + Be the time when thou art the joy of heaven again.-- + "Were the times not so cold and morose, if were united + Future with Present, and both with the holy Past time; + Were the Spring linked to Autumn, and the Summer to Winter, + Were into serious grace childhood with silver age fused; + Then, O spouse of my heart, would dry up the fountain of sorrow, + Every deep cherished wish would be secured to the soul." + Thus spake the queen, and gladsomely clasped her the radiant beloved: + Thou hast uttered in sooth to me a heavenly word, + Which long ago over the lips of the deep-feeling hovered, + But on thine alone first pure and in season did light. + Quickly drive here the chariot, ourselves we will summon + First the times of the year, then all the seasons of man.-- + + +They ride to the sun, and first bring the Day, then the Night; then to +the North, for Winter, then to the South, to find Summer; from the East +they bring the Spring, from the West the Autumn. Then they hasten after +Youth, next to Age, to the Past and to the Future. + +This is all I have been able to give the reader from my own +recollection, and from scattered words and hints in the papers of my +friend. The accomplishment of this great task would have been a lasting +memorial of a new poesy. In this notice I have preferred to be short +and dry, rather than expose myself to the danger of adding anything +from my own fancy. Perhaps many a reader will be grieved at the +fragmentary character of these verses and words, as well as myself, who +would not regard with any more devout sadness a piece of some ruined +picture of Raphael or Corregio. + + L. TIECK. + + + + NOTES. + + + I. + +This _rifacimento_ of Arion's story is not mere mythological twaddle. +As allegories abound, and as in fact there is a suspicion that the +whole Romance may be only an allegory, an "Apotheosis of Poetry,"--the +reader must keep open his internal eye. + +Arion is the Spirit of Poetry as embodied in any age, whether in a +single voice, or many. This the age always attempts to drown,--seldom +with applause. The sailors are the exponents of an age, or its +critics. In the case of Arion, they belonged to a certain tribe of +Philistines,--not yet extinct.[5] There is a deep significance in the +fact, that they resolutely stopped their ears against the Poet's +song. The treasures of the Poet are his ideas of the good and the +beautiful, which he fetches from his far home; for he comes, "not +in entire forgetfulness." The fact, that Arion preferred jumping +overboard to being converted into a heave-offering, is typical of the +self-extinguishment and natural dissolution of the true soul, born into +a humanity which is not its counterpart, which cannot answer to it. +Those providential dolphins are a grateful posterity, which preserve +not only the Poet's treasures, but his memory. The conflict among the +sailors, too, has a deep meaning, hidden also in that old, wonderful +myth of the Kilkenny cats. + +But an allegory has many sides, like a genuine symphony. Each reader +will interpret all of them best from his own point of view. Should +Henry himself turn out to be Arion, the feat would only be one of +inverted transmigration, and not more extraordinary than the regular +method. + + + II. + +An opportunity is taken to introduce some further remarks of the author +concerning History. They are found among a multitude of fragments, +arranged under the three heads of Philosophical, Critical, and Moral; +an amorphous heap of sayings, generally of great beauty and power. The +present have little connexion with the text, but will be their own +excuse. The total of his remarks will be seen to hint at a theory of +History, with which most school-histories and respectable annals are in +no wise infected. + +'Luck or fate is talent for history. The sense for apprehending +occurrences is the prophetic, and luck the divining instinct. (Hence +the ancients justly considered a man's luck one of his talents.) We +take delight in divination. Romance has arisen from the want of +history. + +'History creates itself. It first arises through the connexion of the +past with the future. Men treat their recollections much too negligently. + +'The historian organizes the historical Essence. The data of history +are the mass, to which the historian gives form, while giving +animation. Consequently history always presupposes the principles of +animation and organization; and where they are not antecedent there can +be no genuine historical _chef d'[oe]uvre_, but only here and there the +traces of an accidental animation, where a capricious genius has ruled. + +'The demand, to consider this present world the best, is exactly +analogous to that which would consider my own wedded wife the best and +only woman, and life to be entirely for her and in her. Many similar +demands and pretensions are there, which he who dutifully acknowledges, +who has a discriminating respect for everything that has transpired, is +historically religious, the absolute Believer and Mystic of history, +the genuine lover of Destiny. Fate is the mysticised history. Every +voluntary love, in the common signification, is a religion, which has +and can have but one apostle, one evangelist and disciple, and can be, +though not necessarily, an extra-religion (Wechsel-religion.) + +'There is a series of ideal occurrences running parallel with reality. +They seldom coincide. Men and chances usually modify the ideal +occurrence, so that it appears imperfect, and its results likewise. +Thus it was in the Reformation. Instead of Protestantism appeared +Lutheranism. + +'What fashions the man, but his _Life-History_? In like manner nothing +fashions great men, but the _World's-History_. + +'Many men live better in the past and future time, than in the present. + +'The Present indeed is not at all comprehensible without the Past, and +without a high degree of culture, an impregnation with the highest +products, with the pure spirits of the present and of previous ages; +all which assimilating guides and strengthens the human prophetic +glance, which is more indispensable to the human historian, to the +active, ideal elaborator of historic facts, than to the grammatical and +rhetorical annalist.' + + + III. + +Novalis seems here to rehearse his whole poetic creed; or rather, he +seems to be reviewing his own poems. What he deprecates, are the faults +he most avoids. He is distinguished for extreme simplicity, both in +style and language; and the thoughts, though lofty and sometimes vast, +are yet fresh, chaste, and comprehensible. They have a domestic +sublimity. They indicate simply an infinite expansion of the poet's +heart, whose mild and primeval denizens are undisturbed by the forced, +the foreign, or the shadowy. They have a oneness of design, and are +finished and luminous to the most minute criticism. If we say that +Novalis wrote as he was inspired, never attempting to superinduce what +was only galvanic upon the true life, and never daring to write when he +was not inspired, we both describe his genius and discover the secret +of his beauty. + +With one or two exceptions, the present romance is an unfavorable +specimen of his poetic powers. The subjects of most of the songs +require only that luminous simplicity alluded to, and are only fine +examples of a lyrical style, with a few glimpses of his true genius. +"Astralis," the poem that introduces the second part, is unlike the +rest of the volume, being an irregular, mystic embodyment of the hero's +destinies,--a recapitulation of the past and a presentiment of the +future. The romance is unfavorable, excepting one or two prose passages +of great sublimity, much resembling the "Hymns to the Night," one or +two of which are given below. The dream at the close of the sixth +chapter may be particularly designated. "The image of Death, and of the +River being the Sky in that other and eternal Country, seems to us a +fine and touching one: there is in it a trace of that simplicity, that +soft, still pathos, which are characteristics of Novalis, and doubtless +the highest of his specially poetic gifts." But it is in his Spiritual +Songs that we gain a glimpse of his true genius. They are eminently +devotional, and indiscriminately addressed to the Father, the Son, and +the Holy Virgin. A translation of the mass of them would form a most +desirable hymn book for the Christian, though, to be sure, it would be +very graceless to supplant worthy old Dr. Watts. But they are very +sweet and touching, and full of pious fervor. We have been struck with +the similarity of their tone to those of George Herbert, who stands +with the Father and the Son at the very door of his heart, with tearful +and familiar supplication for them to enter. + + + "Geusz, Vater, Ihn gewaltig aus, + Gib Ihn aus deinem Arm heraus: + _Nur Unschuld, Lieb' und süsze Scham_ + _Hielt Ihn, dasz er nicht längst schon kam_. + + "Treib' Ihn von dir in unsern Arm, + _Dasz er von deinem Hauch noch warm_; + In schweren Wolken sammle ihn, + Und lasz Ihn so hernieder ziehn." + + +Among his promiscuous poems is a beautiful lyric, representing the +triumph of Faith over Sorrow, under the symbol of a beautiful child +bringing to him a wand, beneath whose touch the Queen of Serpents +yields to him the "precious jewel." + +The following is the first Hymn to the Night: + +"What living, sense-endowed being loves not, before all the prodigies +of the far extending space around him, the all-rejoicing light with its +colors, its beams and billows, its mild omnipresence, as waking day? +The restless giant-world of the stars, swimming with dancing motion in +its azure flood. Inhales it as its life's inmost soul; the sparkling, +ever-resting stone, the sensitive, imbibing plant, and the wild, +burning, many-shaped animal, inhale it; but before all, the glorious +stranger, with the speaking eyes, the uncertain gait, and the gently +closed, melodious lips. Like a king of earthly nature, it summons each +power to countless transformations, ratifies and dissolves treaties in +infinite number, and suspends its heavenly image on every earthly +being. Its presence alone reveals the wondrous splendor of creation's +realms. + +"I turn aside to the holy, ineffable, mysterious Night. Far away lies +the world, sunk in a depth profound waste and lonely is its place. O'er +the chords of the bosom waveth deep sadness. I will dissolve into dew +drops, and mingle myself with the ashes. Distance of memory, wishes of +youth, dreams of childhood, the short joys and vain hopes of a whole +long life, flit by me in robes of gray, like evening clouds after +sunset. In other spaces Light has pitched its merry tents. Will it +never return to its children, who are waiting for it with the trusting +faith of innocence? + +"What swells now so forebodingly beneath the heart, and swallows up the +soft air of sadness? Hast thou also a pleasure in us, sombre Night? +What bringest thou beneath thy mantle, that with viewless power winds +its way to my soul? A costly balsam is dripping from thy hand, from thy +bunch of poppy. The drooping pinions of the mind thou bearest upward. +Dimly and ineffably we feel ourselves moved; a solemn countenance do I +see, in pleasing terror, that gently and full of devotion bendeth +towards me, and showeth dear youth hid in the infinite locks of the +mother. How poor and childish Light now appears to me! How welcome and +blessed the farewell of day! Only for this, because Night alienates +from thee thy servants, didst thou sow in the regions of space the +luminous balls, to proclaim thy omnipotence, thy return, in the times +of thy absence. More heavenly than yonder twinkling stars appear the +infinite eyes that Night opens in us. Their sight extends farther than +the palest of that numberless host; unbeholden to Light, they gaze +through the depths of a loving spirit, which fills a loftier space with +unspeakable rapture. Praised be the Queen of the world, the high +announcer of holy spheres, the nurse of blessed love! She sends me +thee, O dearly beloved, lovely sun of the Night. Now I awake, for I am +Thine and Mine; thou hast announced to me Night as my life, thou hast +made me a man. Consume my body with a spirit-glow, that in ether I may +mingle more closely with thee, and be thou my bridal night forever." + +The Beloved was Sophia; concerning whom he writes as follows:-- + + "Weissenfels, March 22d, 1797. + +"It is for me a mournful duty to inform you that Sophia is no more. +After unspeakable sufferings, borne with exemplary resignation, she +died on the 10th of March, at half past nine in the morning. She was +born on the 17th of March, 1783, and on the 15th of March, 1795, I +gained from her the assurance, that she would be mine. She has suffered +since the 7th of November, 1795. Eight days before her death I left her +with the strongest conviction, that I should never see her again. I +could not have endured to look impotently upon the terrible struggle of +blooming youth down-stricken, the fearful anguish of the heavenly +creature. Fate have I never feared. For three previous weeks I saw its +menaces. It has become evening about me, whilst I was yet gazing into +the morning-red. My sorrow is boundless, like my love. For three years +had she been my hourly thought. She alone has bound me to life, to my +country, and to my occupations. With her loss I am separated from +everything, for I scarcely have myself any longer. But it has become +evening, and it seems to me, as if I soon were about to depart, and so +would I gladly be tranquil, and see around me only kind, friendly +faces, and live entirely in her spirit, gentle and kindhearted, as she +was. + +"Cherished by me, as my own immortal Sophia, will be the friendship, +the assiduity with which you strove to render her last days serene. +Sophia still treasures your kindnesses with the warmest gratitude, and +I have felt a silent impulse to express to you this gratitude, united +with my own. You will pardon it to my love, when I tell you, that your +attention to Sophia's wishes, and that half year's residence with her, +now first has made you really dear to me.... I must cling to the past, +as I have nothing more to expect from the future. Farewell, and be +happier than + + Your friend, + HARDENBERG." + +But how soon does his grief become holy, and therefore a joy! The +letter is chiefly valuable as an introduction to the third Hymn to the +Night:-- + +"Once as I shed bitter tears, when my hope dissolved into pain flowed +away, and I stood alone by the barren hillock, which hid in a dark, +narrow space the form of my life; alone, as none had been before, +driven by unspeakable anguish, powerless, nothing left but a thought of +misery;--as I then looked about after aid, could neither move forward +nor backward, but clung to a fleeting, extinguished life, with infinite +longing,--then came from the blue distance, from the heights of my old +blessedness, a breath as of twilight, and at once the tie of birth, the +chain of Light, was rent asunder. Away flew the glory of earth, and +with it my sorrow; the sadness rushed together into a new, unfathomable +world; thou, Night's-inspiration, slumber of heaven, camest over me. +Gently the scene rose aloft; above it floated my unfettered, new-born +Spirit The hillock became a dust-cloud, and through it I saw the +transfigured features of my Beloved. Eternity lay in her eyes; I +grasped her hands, and the tears became a glittering, indissoluble tie. +Thousands of years flew away in the distance, like tempest-clouds. Upon +her neck I wept enrapturing tears at the thought of this new life.--It +was the first and only dream, and since then do I feel an eternal, +unchangeable faith in the heaven of Night, and its Sun my Beloved." + +Such is the melting tenderness, which is a chief element of his poetry, +such the cunning drug that embalms his genius! + + + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 1: Mährchen.] + +[Footnote 2: _Mutter_ or _Metallmutter_ is the gang or matrix that +contains the ore.] + +[Footnote 3: _Mährchen._] + +[Footnote 4: _Bacchischen Wehmuth_; the sadness that drives to +dissipation, not the Elysium of the morning after.] + +[Footnote 5: The word _Critic_ is derived from the Hebrew word [Hebrew: +krty] _executioner_; collectively, _executioners and runners_, from the +root [Hebrew: krt], _to cut_. Thus it gradually came to mean, to cut +and run. It is somewhat remarkable that the secondary meaning of the +noun is _Philistine_. See Gesenius in voc.; who also adds, "the +conjecture is not improbable that the Philistines sprang from Crete, +and that _Caphtor_ signifies [Greek: Krêtê]. Comp. Michælis Spicil. J. +1. p. 292-308. Supplemm. p. 1328." The proverbial character of the +Cretans is well known. + +The Rabbi Ben Hillel, who was of the tribe of Onagrites, defended the +oral traditions of the Jews against certain persons, who were disposed +to sniff somewhat. In his writings, the venerable Rabbi was accustomed +to designate them as Philistines--_mais nous avons change tout +cela_--and, in a felicitous allusion to the ancient narrative, +insinuated that the extraordinary discomfiture of so many Philistines +by a certain jaw-bone was explained upon the well known principle in +Hom[oe]opathy, whereby any nuisance is abated by the application of +homogeneous substances. This was in the infancy of that science. But +the learned Rabbi in his strictures did not anticipate the retort of +his opponent Judas Haggadosh, who called Ben Hillel "_the would-be +jaw-bone._"] + + + + + + + + THE END. + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Henry of Ofterdingen: A Romance., by +Friedrich von Hardenberg + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HENRY OF OFTERDINGEN: A ROMANCE. *** + +***** This file should be named 31873-8.txt or 31873-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/8/7/31873/ + +Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by the Web Archive + +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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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/31873-8.zip b/old/31873-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5a76bb4 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/31873-8.zip diff --git a/old/31873.txt b/old/31873.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2054329 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/31873.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6776 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Henry of Ofterdingen: A Romance., by +Friedrich von Hardenberg + +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: Henry of Ofterdingen: A Romance. + +Author: Friedrich von Hardenberg + +Release Date: April 3, 2010 [EBook #31873] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HENRY OF OFTERDINGEN: A ROMANCE. *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by the Web Archive + + + + +Transcriber's notes: + +1. Source: Web Archive: +http://www.archive.org/details/henryofterdinge00schlgoog + +2. Hebrew words: krt = kaf-resh-taf = to cut; + krty = kaf-resh-taf-yod = to executioner. + +3. Greek word: Krete = Kappa-rho-eta-tau-eta = Crete. + +4. diphthong oe=[oe] + + + + + HENRY OF OFTERDINGEN: + + A ROMANCE. + + + + FROM THE GERMAN OF + + NOVALIS, + + (FRIEDRICH VON HARDENBERG.) + + + + + CAMBRIDGE: + PUBLISHED BY JOHN OWEN. + + M DCCC XLII. + + + + + + Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1842, + BY JOHN OWEN, + in the Clerk's office of the District Court of the District of + Massachusetts. + + + + + CAMBRIDGE PRESS: + LYMAN THURSTON AND WILLIAM TORRY. + + + + + ADVERTISEMENT. + + +The present translation is made from the edition of Tieck and Schlegel. +The life of the author is chiefly drawn from the one written by the +former. The completion of the second part is also by the same writer. + +Richter said, in a prophetic feeling of the fate of his own works, that +translators were like wagoners who carry good wine to fairs--but most +unaccountably water it before the end of the journey. Which allusion +and semi-confession is meant to take the place of the usual apology; +and the reader can proceed without farther preface. + +_Cambridge_, _June_, 1842. + + + + + ERRATA. + +Page xvi, line tenth from bottom, _for_ tion. He _read_ tion, he + +Page 22, line ninth from top, _for_ work _read_ woke + +Page 66, first word of the poetry, _for_ Though _read_ Through + + + + + LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. + + + +Probably some of the readers of this volume will feel an interest in +the author's life. Although there are but few works, in which the mind +of the author is more clearly and purely reflected than in this; yet it +is natural that the reader should feel some interest in the outward +circumstances of one, who has become dear to him; and those friends of +Novalis, who have never known him personally, will be glad to hear all +that we can bring to light concerning him. + +The Baron of Hardenberg, the father of the author, was director of the +Saxonian salt works. He had been a soldier in his younger days, and +retained even in his old age a predilection for a military life. He was +a robust, ever active man, frank and energetic;--a pure German. The +pious character of his mind led him to join the Moravian community; yet +he remained frank, decided, and upright. His mother, a type of elevated +piety and Christian meekness, belonged to the same religious community. +She bore with lofty resignation the loss, within a few successive +years, of a blooming circle of hopeful and well educated children. + +Friedrich von Hardenberg (Novalis) was born on the second of May, in +the year 1772, on a family estate in the county of Mansfield. He was +the oldest of eleven children, with the exception of a sister who was +born a year earlier. The family consisted of seven sons and four +daughters, all distinguished for their wit and the lofty tone of their +minds. Each possessed a peculiar disposition, while all were united by +a beautiful and generous affection to each other and to their parents. +Friedrich von Hardenberg was weak in constitution from his earliest +childhood, without, however, suffering from any settled or dangerous +disease. He was somewhat of a day-dreamer, silent and of an inactive +disposition. He separated himself from the society of his playmates; +but his character was distinguished from that of other children, only +by the ardor of his love for his master. He found his companions in his +own family. His spirit seemed to be wakened from its slumber, by a +severe disease in his ninth year, and by the stimulants applied for his +recovery; and he suddenly appeared brighter, merrier, and more active. +His father, who was obliged by his business to be much of his time away +from home, entrusted his education for the most part to his mother, and +to family tutors. The gentleness, meekness, and the pure piety of his +mother's character, as well as the religious habits of both parents, +which naturally extended to the whole household, made the deepest +impression upon his mind; an impression which exerted the happiest +influence upon him throughout his whole life. He now applied himself +diligently to his studies, so that in his twelfth year he had acquired +a pretty thorough knowledge of the Latin language, and some smattering +of Greek. The reading of Poetry was the favorite occupation of his +leisure hours. He was particularly pleased with the higher kind of +fables, and amused himself by composing them and relating them to his +brothers. He was accustomed for several years to act, in concert with +his brothers Erasmus and Charles, a little poetical play, in which they +took the characters of spirits, one of the air, another of the water, +and the other of the earth. On Sunday evenings, Novalis would explain +to them the most wonderful and various appearances and phenomena of +these different realms. There are still in existence some of his poems +written about this period. + +He now applied himself too severely to study, especially to history, in +which he took a deep interest. In the year 1789, he entered a +Gymnasium, and in the autumn went to Jena to pursue his studies there. +Here he remained until 1792, and then with his brother Erasmus entered +the University at Leipzig; he left the following year for Wittenberg, +and there finished his studies. + +At this time the French war broke out, which not only interrupted his +studies greatly, but which also inspired him suddenly with so great a +desire to enter upon a military life, that the united prayers of his +parents and relations were scarcely able to restrain his wishes. + +About this time he became acquainted with Frederick Schlegel, and soon +became his warmest friend; he also gained the friendship of Fichte; and +these two great spirits exerted a powerful and lasting influence upon +his whole life. After applying himself with unwearied ardor to the +sciences, he left Wittenberg for Arnstadt in Thuringia, in order to +accustom himself to practical business with Just, the chief judiciary +of the district. This excellent man soon became one of his nearest +friends. Shortly after his arrival at Arnstadt, he became acquainted +with Sophia von K., who resided at a neighboring country seat. The +first sight of her beautiful and lovely form decided the fate of his +whole life; or rather the passion, which penetrated and inspired his +soul, became the contents of his whole life. Often even in the face of +childhood, there is an expression so sweet and spiritual, that we call +it supernatural and heavenly; and the fear impresses itself on our +hearts, that faces, so transfigured and transparent, are too tender and +too finely woven for this life; that it is death or immortality that +gazes through the glancing eye; and too often are our forebodings +realized by the rapid withering of such blossoms. Still more beautiful +are such forms, when, childhood left behind, they have advanced to the +full bloom of youth. All who knew the betrothed of our author are +agreed, that no description could do justice to her beauty, grace, and +heavenly simplicity. She was in her fourteenth year when Novalis became +acquainted with her; and the spring and summer of 1795 were indeed the +blooming season of his life. Every hour he could spare from his +business was spent at Grueningen; and late in the fall of 1796, he was +betrothed to Sophia with the consent of her parents. Shortly after she +was taken severely sick with a fever, which, though it lasted but a few +weeks, yet left her with a pain in the side, which by its intensity +rendered unhappy many of her hours. Novalis was much alarmed, but was +quieted by her physician, who pronounced this pain of no consequence. + +Shortly after her recovery he departed for Weissenfels, where he was +appointed auditor in the department of which his father was director. +He passed the winter of 1795-96 in business, hearing news from +Grueningen of a quieting character. He journeyed thither in the spring, +and found his betrothed to all appearance recovered. At this time his +brother Erasmus was taken sick, so that he left off his studies, and +devoted himself in a distant place to the chase and a forest life. His +brother Charles joined the army, and in the spring entered upon active +service. Thus Novalis lived quietly at home, his parents and sisters +forming his chief society, the other children being yet quite young. In +the summer, while he was rejoicing in the prospect of being soon united +to Sophia, he received information, that she was at Jena, and there on +account of ulceration of the liver, had undergone a severe operation. +It had been her wish, that he should not be informed of her sickness, +nor of the dangerous operation, till it was over. He hastened to Jena, +and found her in intense suffering. Her physician, one far famed for +his ability, could allow them to hope only for a very slow recovery, if +indeed she should survive. He was obliged to repeat the operation, and +feared that she would want strength to support her through the healing +process. With lofty courage and indescribable fortitude, Sophia bore up +against all her sufferings. Novalis was there to console her; his +parents offered up their sympathetic prayers; his two brothers had +returned and strove to be of service to the sorrowing one, as well as +to the suffering. In December Serbia desired to visit Grueningen again. +Novalis requested Erasmus to accompany her on her journey. He did so, +together with her mother and sisters, who had attended her at Jena. +After having accompanied her to her place of residence, he returned to +his residence in Franconia. + +Novalis was now by turns in Weissenfels and Grueningen. With great +grief, however, he was obliged to confess, that he found Sophia worse +and worse at every visit. Towards the end of January, 1797, Erasmus +also returned to Weissenfels very sick, and the expected deaths of two +beings, so much beloved, filled the house with gloom. + +The 17th of March was Sophia's fifteenth birthday, and on the 19th, +about noon, she fell asleep in the arms of her sisters, and faithful +instructress Mademoiselle Danscour, who loved her tenderly. No one +dared bring the news to Novalis, until his brother Charles at last +undertook the mournful office. For three days and nights, the mourner +shut himself up from his friends, weeping away the hours, and then +hastened to Arnstadt, that he might be with his truest friends, and +nearer to the beloved place, which contained the remains of her who was +dearest to him. On the 14th of April, he also lost his brother Erasmus. +Novalis writing to his brother Charles, who had been obliged to travel +to Lower Saxony, says, speaking of the death of Erasmus, "Be consoled; +Erasmus has conquered; the flowers of the lovely wreath are dropping +off, one by one, to be united more beautifully in Heaven." + +At this time Novalis, living as he did only for suffering, naturally +regarded the visible and the invisible world as one, and regarded life +and death as distinguished only by our longing for the latter. At the +same time life was transfigured before him, and his whole being flowed +together as in a clear conscious dream of a higher existence. His +sensibilities, as well as his imagination, were very much decided from +the solemnity of his suffering, from his heartfelt love, and from the +pious longing for death, which he cherished. It is indeed very +possible, that deep sorrow at this time planted the death-seed in him; +unless perhaps it was his irrevocable destiny, to be so early torn +away. + +He remained many weeks in Thuringia, and returned consoled and truly +exalted to his business, which he pursued more eagerly than ever, +though he regarded himself as a stranger upon earth. About this time, +some earlier, some later, but particularly during the fall of this +year, he composed most of those pieces, which have been published under +the title of "Fragments," as also his "Hymns to Night." + +In December of this year, he went to Freiberg, where the acquaintance +and instruction of the renowned Werner awoke anew his passion for +physical science, and especially for mining. Here he became acquainted +with Julia von Ch.; and, strange as it may appear to all but his +intimate friends, he was betrothed to her, as early as the year 1798. +Sophia (as we may see from his works) remained the balancing point of +his thoughts; he honored her, absent as she was, even more than when +present with him; but yet he thought that loveliness and beauty could, +to a certain degree, replace her loss. About this time he wrote "Faith +and Love," the "Flower Dust," and some other fragments, as "The Pupils +at Sais." In the spring of 1799, Serbia's instructress died; which +event moved Novalis the more deeply, because he knew that sorrow for +the loss of her beloved pupil had chiefly contributed to hasten her +death. Soon after this event he returned to the paternal estate, and +was appointed under his father Assessor and chief Judiciary of the +Thuringian district. + +He now visited Jena often, and there became acquainted with A. W. +Schlegel, and sought out the gifted Ritter, whom he particularly loved, +and whose peculiar talent for experimenting he greatly admired. Ludwig +Tieck saw him this year for the first time, while on a visit to his +friend Wm. Schlegel. Their acquaintance soon ripened into a warm +friendship. These friends, in company with Schlegel, Schelling, and +other strangers, passed many happy days in Jena. On his return, Tieck +visited Novalis at his father's house, became acquainted with his +family, and for the first time listened to the reading of "the Pupils +at Sais," and many of his fragments. He then accompanied him to Halle, +and many hours were peacefully passed in Reichardt's house. His first +conception of Henry of Ofterdingen dates about this time. He had also +already written some of his spiritual songs; they were to make a part +of a hymn book, which he intended to accompany with a volume of +sermons. Besides these labors he was very industrious in the duties of +his office; all his duties were attended to with willingness, and +nothing of however little importance was insignificant to him. + +When Tieck, in the autumn of 1799, took up his residence at Jena, and +Frederick Schlegel also dwelt there, Novalis often visited them, +sometimes for a short, and sometimes for a longer time. His eldest +sister was married about this time, and the wedding was celebrated at a +country seat near Jena. After this marriage Novalis lived for a long +time in a lonely place in the golden meadow of Thuringia, at the foot +of the Kyffhauser mountain; and in this solitude he wrote a great part +of Henry of Ofterdingen. His society this year was mostly confined to +that of two men; a brother-in-law of his betrothed, the present General +von Theilman, and the present General von Funk, to whom he had been +introduced by the former. The society of the last-mentioned person was +valuable to him in more than one respect. He made use of his library, +among whose chronicles he, in the spring, first hit upon the traditions +of Ofterdingen; and by means of the excellent biography of the emperor +Frederick the Second, by General von Funk, he became entirely possessed +with lofty ideas concerning that ruler, and determined to represent him +in his romance as a pattern for a king. + +In the year 1800, Novalis was again at Weissenfels, whence, on the 23d +of February, he wrote to Tieck,--"My Romance is getting along finely. +About twelve printed sheets are finished. The whole plan is pretty much +laid out in my mind. It will consist of two parts; the first, I hope, +will be finished in three weeks. It contains the basis and introduction +to the second part. The whole may be called an Apotheosis of Poesy. +Henry of Ofterdingen becomes in the first part ripe for a poet, and in +the second part is declared poet. It will in many respects be similar +to Sternbald, except in lightness. However, this want will not probably +be unfavorable to the contents. In every point of view it is a first +attempt, the print of that spirit of poesy, which your acquaintance has +reawakened in me, and which gives to your friendship its chief value. + +"There are some songs in it, which suit my taste. I am very much +pleased with the real romance,--my head is really dizzy with the +multitude of ideas I have gathered for romances and comedies. If I can +visit you soon, I will bring you a tale and a fable from my romance, +and will subject them to your criticism." He visited his friends at +Jena the next spring, and soon repeated his visit, bringing the first +part of Henry of Ofterdingen, in the same form as that of which this +volume is a translation. + +When Tieck, in the summer of 1800, left Jena, he visited his friend for +some time at his father's house. He was well and calm in his spirits; +though his family were somewhat alarmed about him, thinking that they +noticed, that he was continually growing paler and thinner. He himself +was more attentive than usual to his diet; he drank little or no wine, +ate scarcely any meat, living principally on milk and vegetables. "We +took daily walks," says Tieck, "and rides on horseback. In ascending a +hill swiftly, or in any violent motion, I could observe neither +weakness in his breast nor short breath, and therefore endeavored to +persuade him to forsake his strict mode of life; because I thought his +abstemiousness from wine and strengthening food not only irritating in +itself, but also to proceed from a false anxiety on his part. He was +full of plans for the future; his house was already put in order, for +in August he intended to celebrate his nuptials. He spake with great +pleasure of finishing Ofterdingen and other works. His life gave +promise of the most useful activity and love. When I took leave of him, +I never could have imagined that we were not to meet again." + +When in August he was about departing for Freiberg to celebrate his +marriage, he was seized with an emission of blood, which his physician +declared to be mere hemorrhoidal and insignificant. Yet it shook his +frame considerably, and still more when it began to return +periodically. His wedding was postponed, and, in the beginning of +October, he travelled with his brother and parents to Dresden. Here +they left him, in order to visit their daughter in Upper Lausatia, his +brother Charles remaining with him in Dresden. He became apparently +weaker; and when, in the beginning of November, he learned that a +younger brother, fourteen years of age, had been drowned through mere +carelessness, the sudden shock caused a violent bleeding at the lungs, +upon which the physician immediately declared his disease incurable. +Soon after this his betrothed came to Dresden. + +As he grew weaker, he longed to change his residence to some warmer +climate. He thought of visiting his friend Herbert; but his physician +advised against such a change, perhaps considering him already too weak +to make such a journey. Thus the year passed away; and, in January +1801, he longed so eagerly to see his parents and be with them once +more, that at the end of the month he returned to Weissenfels. There +the ablest physicians from Leipzig and Jena were consulted, yet his +case grew rapidly worse, although he was perfectly free from pain, as +was the case through his whole illness. He still attended to the duties +of his office, and wrote considerably in his private papers. He also +composed some poems about this time, read the Bible diligently, and +much from the works of Zinzendorf and Lavater. The nearer he approached +his end, the stronger was his hope of recovery; for his cough abated, +and, with the exception of debility, he had none of the feelings of a +sick man. With this hope and longing for life, fresh powers and new +talents seemed to awaken within him; he thought with renewed love of +his projected labors, and undertook to write Henry of Ofterdingen anew. +Once, shortly before his death, he said; "I now begin, for the first +time, to see what true poetry is. Innumerable songs and poems far +different from those I have written awake within me." From the 19th of +March, the day on which Sophia died, he became very perceptibly weaker; +many of his friends visited him, and he was particularly delighted +when, on the 21st of March, his faithful and oldest friend Frederick +Schlegel came to see him from Jena. He conversed much with him, +particularly concerning their mutual labors. During these days his +spirits were good, his nights quiet, and he enjoyed tranquil sleep. +About six o'clock on the morning of the 26th, he asked his brother to +hand him some books, in order to look out certain passages, that he had +in mind; he then ordered his breakfast, and conversed with his usual +vivacity till eight. Towards nine he asked his brother to play for him +on the piano, and soon after fell asleep. Frederick Schlegel soon after +entered the chamber, and found him sleeping quietly. This sleep lasted +till twelve o'clock, at which hour he expired without a struggle; and +unchanged in death his countenance retained the same pleasant +expression, that it exhibited during life. + +Thus died our author before he had finished his nine-and-twentieth +year. In him we may alike love and admire his extensive knowledge and +his philosophical genius, as well as his poetical talents. With a +spirit much in advance of his times, his country might have promised +itself great things of him, had not an untimely death cut him off. Yet +his unfinished writings have already had their influence; many of his +great thoughts will yet inspire futurity; and noble minds and deep +thinkers will be enlightened and set on fire by the sparks of his +spirit. + +Novalis was slender and of fine proportions. He wore his light brown +hair long, hanging over his shoulders in flowing locks, a style less +singular then than now; his brown eye was clear and brilliant, and his +complexion, particularly his forehead, almost transparent. His hands +and feet were rather too large, and had something awkward about them. +His countenance was always serene and benignant. To those, who judge +men by their forwardness, or by their affectation of fashion or +dignity, Novalis was lost in the crowd; but to the practised eye he +appeared beautiful. The outlines and expression of his face resembled +very much those of St. John, as he is represented in the magnificent +picture of A. Duerer, preserved in Nuremberg and Muenchen. + +His speech was clear and vivacious. "I never saw him tired," says +Tieck, "even when we continued together till late at night; he only +stopped voluntarily to rest, and then read before he fell asleep." He +knew not what it was to be tired, even in the wearisome companionship +of vulgar minds; for he always found some one, who could impart some +information to him, useful, though apparently insignificant. His +urbanity and sympathy for all made him universally beloved. So skilful +was he in his intercourse with others, that lower minds never felt +their inferiority. Although he preferred to veil the depths of his mind +in conversation, speaking, however, as if inspired, of the invisible +world, he was yet merry, as a child, full of art and frolic, giving +himself wholly up to the jovial spirit prevailing in the company. Free +from self-conceit or arrogance, a stranger to affectation or +dissimulation, he was a pure, true man; the purest, loveliest spirit, +ever tabernacled in the flesh. + +His chief studies for many years were philosophy and physical science. +In the latter he discovered and foretold truths, of which his own age +was in ignorance. In philosophy he principally studied Spinoza and +Fichte; but soon marked out a new path, by aiming to unite philosophy +with religion; and thus what we possess of the writings of the new +Platonists, as well as of the mystics, became very important to him. +His knowledge of mathematics, as well as of the mechanic arts, +especially of mining, was very considerable. But in the fine arts he +took but little interest. Music he loved much, although he knew little +about its rules. He had scarcely turned his attention to painting and +sculpture; still he could advance many original ideas about those arts, +and pronounce skilful judgment upon them. + +Tieck mentions an argument with him, concerning landscape painting, in +which Novalis expressed views, which he could not comprehend; but which +in part were realized, by the rich and poetical mind of the excellent +landscape painter, Friedrichs, of Dresden. In the land of Poetry he was +in reality a stranger. He had read but few poets, and had not busied +himself with criticism, or paid much attention to the inherited system, +to which the art of poetry had been reduced. Goethe was for a long +while his study, and Wilhelm Meister his favorite work; although we +should scarcely suppose so, judging from his severe strictures upon it +in his fragments. He demanded from poesy the most everyday knowledge +and inspiration; and it was for this reason, that, as the chief +masterpieces of poetry were unknown to him, he was free from imitation +and foreign rule. He also loved, for this very reason, many writings, +which are not generally highly prized by scholars, because in them he +discovered, though perhaps painted in weak colors, that very informing +and significant knowledge, which he was chiefly striving after. + +Those tales, which we in later times call allegories[1] with their +peculiar style, most resemble his stories; he saw their deepest +meaning, and endeavored to express it most clearly in some of his +poems. It became natural for him to regard what was most usual and +nearest to him, as full of marvels, and the strange and supernatural as +the usual and common-place. Thus everyday life surrounded him like a +supernatural story; and that region, which most men can only conceive +as something distant and incomprehensible, seemed to him like a beloved +home. Thus uncorrupted by precedents, he discovered a new way of +drawing and exhibiting his pictures; and in the manifold variety of his +relation to the world, from his love and the faith in it, which at the +same time was his instructress, wisdom, and religion, since through +them a single great moment of life, and one deep grief and loss became +the essence of his poesy and of his contemplation, he resembles among +late writers the sublime Dante alone, and like him sings to us an +unfathomable mystical song, very different from that of many imitators, +who think, that they can assume and lay aside mysticism as they could a +mere ornament. Therefore his romance is both consciously and +unconsciously the representation of his own mind and fate; as he makes +Henry say, in the fragment of the second part, "Fate and mind are but +names of one idea." Thus may his life justly appear wonderful to us. We +shudder too, as though reading a work of fiction, when we learn, that +of all his brothers and sisters only two brothers are now alive; and +that his noble mother, who for several years has also been mourning the +death of her husband, is in solitude, devoting herself to her grief and +to religion with silent resignation. + + + + + + + HENRY OF OFTERDINGEN. + + + + + PART FIRST. + + THE EXPECTATION. + + + + + DEDICATION. + + + + Thou didst to life my noble impulse warm, + Deep in the spirit of the world to look. + And with thy hand a trusting faith I took, + Securely bearing me through every storm, + With sweet forebodings thou the child didst bless, + To mystic meadows leading him away, + Stirring his bosom to its finest play, + Ideal, thou, of woman's tenderness. + Earth's vexing trifles shall I not refuse? + Thine is my heart and life eternally,-- + Thy love my being constantly renews! + To art I dedicate myself for thee, + For thou, beloved, wilt become the Muse + And gentle Genius of my poesy. + + In endless transmutation here below + The hidden might of song our land is greeting; + Now blesses us in form of Peace unfleeting, + And now encircles us with childhood's glow. + She pours an upper light upon the eye, + Defines the sentiment for every art, + And dwells within the glad or weary heart, + To comfort it with wondrous ecstasy. + Through her alone I woke to life the truest, + Drinking the proffered nectar of her breast, + And dared to lift my face With joy the newest. + Yet was my highest sense with sleep oppressed. + Till angel-like thou, loved one, near me flewest. + And, kindling in thy look, I found the rest. + + + + + + THE EXPECTATION. + + + + + CHAPTER I. + + +The patents had already retired to rest; the old clock ticked +monotonously from the wall; the windows rattled with the whistling +wind, and the chamber was dimly lighted by the flickering glimmer of +the moon. The young man lay restless on his bed, thinking of the +stranger and his tales. "It is not the treasures," said he to himself, +"that have awakened in me such unutterable longings. Far from me is all +avarice; but I long to behold the blue flower. It is constantly in my +mind, and I can think and compose of nothing else. I have never been in +such a mood. It seems as if I had hitherto been dreaming, or slumbering +into another world; for in the world, in which hitherto I have lived, +who would trouble himself about a flower?--I never have heard of such a +strange passion for a flower here. I wonder, too, whence the stranger +comes? None of our people have ever seen his like; still I know not why +I should be so fascinated by his conversation. Others have listened to +it, but none are moved by it as I am. Would that I could explain my +feelings in words! I am often full of rapture, and it is only when the +blue flower is out of my mind, that this deep, heart-felt longing +overwhelms me. But no one can comprehend this but myself. I might think +myself mad, were not my perception and reasonings so clear; and this +state of mind appears to have brought with it superior knowledge on all +subjects. I have heard, that in ancient times beasts, and trees, and +rocks conversed with men. As I gaze upon them, they appear every moment +about to speak to me; and I can almost tell by their looks what they +would say. There must yet be many words unknown to me. If I knew more, +I could comprehend better. Formerly I loved to dance, now I think +rather to the music." + +The young man gradually lost himself in his sweet fancies, and feel +asleep. Then he dreamed of regions far distant, and unknown to him. He +crossed the sea with wonderful ease; saw many strange monsters; lived +with all sorts of men, now in war, now in wild tumult, and now in +peaceful cottages. Then he fell into captivity and degrading want. His +feelings had never been so excited. His life was an unending tissue, of +the brightest colors. Then came death, a return again to life; he +loved, loved intensely, and was separated from the object of his +passion. At length towards the break of day his soul became calmer, and +the images his fancy formed grew clearer, and more lasting. He dreamed +that he was walking alone in a dark forest, where the light broke only +at intervals through the green net-work of the trees. He soon came to a +passage through some rocks, which led to the top of a neighboring hill, +and, to ascend which he was obliged to scramble over the mossy stones, +which some stream in former times had torn down. The higher he climbed, +the more was the forest lit up, until at last he came to a small meadow +situated on the declivity of the mountain. Behind the meadow rose a +lofty cliff, at whose foot an opening was visible, which seemed to be +the beginning of a path hewn in the rock. The path guided him gently +along, and ended in a wide expanse, from which at a distance a clear +light shone towards him. On entering this expanse, he beheld a mighty +beam of light, which, like the stream from a fountain, rose to the +overhanging clouds, and spread out into innumerable sparks, which +gathered themselves below into a great basin. The beam shone like +burnished gold; not the least noise was audible; a holy silence reigned +around the splendid spectacle. He approached the basin, which trembled +and undulated with ever-varying colors. The sides of the cave were +coated with the golden liquid, which was cool to the touch, and which +cast from the walls a weak, blue light. He dipped his hand in the +basin, and bedewed his lips. He felt as if a spiritual breath had +pierced through him, and he was sensibly strengthened and refreshed. A +resistless desire to bathe himself made him undress and step into the +basin. Then a cloud tinged with the glow of evening appeared to +surround him; feelings as from Heaven flowed into his soul; thoughts +innumerable and full of rapture strove to mingle together within him; +new imaginings, such as never before had struck his fancy, arose before +him, which, flowing into each other, became visible beings about him. +Each wave of the lovely element pressed to him like a soft bosom. The +flood seemed like a solution of the elements of beauty, which +constantly became embodied in the forms of charming maidens around him. +Intoxicated with rapture, yet conscious of every impression, he swam +gently down the glittering stream. A sweeter slumber now overcame him. +He dreamed of many strange events, and a new vision appeared to him. He +dreamed that he was sitting on the soft turf by the margin of a +fountain, whose waters flowed into the air, and seemed to vanish in it. +Dark blue rocks with various colored veins rose in the distance. The +daylight around him was milder and clearer than usual; the sky was of a +sombre blue, and free from clouds. But what most attracted his notice, +was a tall, light-blue flower, which stood nearest the fountain, and +touched it with its broad, glossy leaves. Around it grew numberless +flowers of varied hue, filling the air with the richest perfume. But he +saw the blue flower alone, and gazed long upon it with inexpressible +tenderness. He at length was about to approach it, when it began to +move, and change its form. The leaves increased their beauty, adorning +the growing stem. The flower bended towards him, and revealed among its +leaves a blue, outspread collar, within which hovered a tender face. +His delightful astonishment was increasing with this singular change, +when suddenly his mother's voice awoke him, and he found himself in his +parents' room, already gilded by the morning sun. He was too happy to +be angry at the sudden disturbance of his sleep. He bade his mother a +kind good morning, and returned her hearty embrace. + +"You sleeper," said his father, "how long have I been sitting here +filing? I have not dared to do any hammering on your account. Your +mother would let her dear son sleep. I have been obliged to wait for my +breakfast too. You have done wisely in choosing to become one of the +learned, for whom we wake and work. But a real, thorough student, as I +have been told, is obliged to spend his nights in studying the works of +our wise forefathers." + +"Dear father," said Henry, "let not my long sleep make you angry with +me, for you are not accustomed to be so. I fell asleep late, and have +been much disturbed by dreams. The last, however, was pleasant, and one +which I shall not soon forget, and which seems to me to have been +something more than a mere dream." + +"Dear Henry," said his mother, "you have certainly been lying on your +back, or else your thoughts were wandering at evening prayers. Come, +eat your breakfast, and cheer up." + +Henry's mother went out. His father worked on industriously, and said; +"Dreams are froth, let the learned think what they will of them; and +you will do well to turn your attention from such useless and hurtful +speculations. The times when Heavenly visions were seen in dreams have +long past by, nor can we understand the state of mind, which those +chosen men, of whom the Bible speaks, enjoyed. Dreams, as well as other +human affairs, must have been of a different nature then. In the age in +which we live, there is no direct intercourse with Heaven. Old +histories and writings are now the only fountains, from which we can +draw, as far as is needful, a knowledge of the spiritual world; and +instead of express revelations, the Holy Ghost now speaks to us +immediately through the understandings of wise and sensible men, and by +the lives and fate of those most distinguished for their piety. I have +never been much edified by the visions, which are now seen; nor do I +place much confidence in the wonders, which our divines relate about +them. Yet let every one, who can, be edified by them; I would not cause +any one to err in his faith." + +"But, dear father, upon what grounds are you so opposed to belief in +dreams, when singular changes, and flighty, unstable nature, are at +least worthy of some reflection? Is not every dream, even the most +confused, a peculiar vision, which, though we do not call it sent from +Heaven, yet makes an important rent in the mysterious curtain, which, +with a thousand folds, hides our inward natures from our view? We can +find accounts of many such dreams, coming from credible men, in the +wisest books; and you need only call to mind, to support what I have +said, the dream which our good pastor lately related to us, and which +appeared to you so remarkable. But, without taking those writings into +account, if now for the first time you should have a dream, how would +it overwhelm you, and how constantly would your thoughts be fixed upon +the miracle, which, from its very frequency, now appears such a simple +occurrence. Dreams appear to me to break up the monotony and even tenor +of life, to serve as a recreation to the chained fancy. They mingle +together all the scenes and fancies of life, and change the continual +earnestness of age, into the merry sports of childhood. Were it not for +dreams, we should certainly grow older; and though they be not given us +immediately from above; yet they should be regarded as Heavenly gifts, +as friendly guides, in our pilgrimage to the holy tomb. I am sure that +the dream, which I have had this night, has been no profitless +occurrence in my life; for I feel that it has, like some vast wheel, +caught hold of my soul, and is hurrying me along with it in its mighty +revolutions." + +Henry's father smiled humorously, and said, looking to his wife, who +had just come in, "Henry cannot deny the hour of his birth. His +conversation boils with the fiery Italian wines, which I brought with +me from Rome, and with which we celebrated our wedding eve. I was +another sort of man then. The southern breezes had thawed out my +northern phlegm. I was overflowing with spirit and humor, and you also +were an ardent, charming girl. Everything was arranged at your father's +in grand style; musicians and minstrels were collected from far and +wide, and Augsburg had never seen a merrier marriage." + +"You were just now speaking of dreams," said Henry's mother. "Do you +not remember, that you then told me of one, which you had had at Rome, +and which first put it into your head to come to Augsburg as my +suitor?" + +"You put me opportunely in mind of it," said the old man, "for I had +entirely forgotten that singular dream, which, at the time of its +occurrence, occupied my thoughts not a little; but even that is only a +proof of what I have been saying about dreams. It would be impossible +to have one more clear and regular. Even now I remember every +circumstance in it, and yet, what did it signify? That I dreamed of +you, and soon after felt an irrepressible desire to possess you, was +not strange; for I already knew you. The agreeable and amiable traits +of your character strongly affected me, when I first saw you; and I was +prevented from making love to you, only by the desire of visiting +foreign lands. At the time of the dream my curiosity was much abated; +and hence my love for you more easily mastered me." + +"Please to tell us about that curious dream," said Henry. + +"One evening," said his father, "I had been loitering about, enjoying +the beauty of the clear, blue sky, and of the moon, which clothed the +old pillars and walls with its pale, awe-inspiring light. My companions +had gone to see the girls, and love and homesickness drove me into the +open air. During my walk, I felt thirsty, and went into the first +decent looking mansion I met with, to ask for a glass of wine, or milk. +An old man came to the door, who perhaps at first regarded me as a +suspicious visitor; but when I told him what I wished, and he learned +that I was a foreigner, and a German, he kindly asked me into the +house, bade me sit down, brought out a bottle of wine, and asked me +some questions about my business. We began a desultory conversation, +during which he gave me some information about painters, poets, +sculptors, and ancient times. I had scarce ever heard about such +matters; and it teemed as if I had landed in a new world. He showed me +some old seals and other works of art, and then read to me, with all +the fire of youth, some beautiful passages of poetry. Thus the hours +fled as moments. Even now my heart warms with the recollection of the +wonderful thoughts and emotions, which crowded upon me that evening. He +seemed quite at home in the pagan ages, and longed, with incredible +ardor, to dwell in the times of grey antiquity. At last he showed me a +chamber, where I could pass the night, for it was too late for me to +return to the city. I soon fell asleep and dreamed.--I thought that I +was passing out of the gates of my native city. It seemed to me that I +was going to get something done, but where, and what, I did not know. I +took the road to Hartz, and walked quickly along, as merry as if going +to a festival. I did not keep the road, but cut across through wood and +valley, till I came to a lofty mountain. From its top I gazed on the +golden fields around me, beheld Thuringia in the distance, and was so +situated, that no other mountain could obstruct my view. Opposite lay +the Hartz with its dusky hills. Castles, convents, and whole districts +were embraced in the prospect. My ideas were all clear and distinct. I +thought of the old man, in whose house I was sleeping; and my visit +seemed like some occurrence of past years. I soon saw an ascending path +leading into the mountain, and I followed it. After some time I came to +a large cave; there sat a very old man in a long garment, before an +iron table, gazing incessantly upon a wondrously beautiful maiden, that +stood before him hewn in marble. His beard had grown through the iron +table, and covered his feet. His features were serious, yet kind, and +put me in mind of a head by one of the old masters, which my host had +shown me in the evening. The cave was filled with glowing light. While +I was looking at the old man, my host tapped me on the shoulder, took +my hand, and led me through many long paths, till we saw a mild light +shining in the distance, like the dawn of day. I hastened to it, and +soon found myself in a green plain; but there was nothing about it to +remind me of Thuringia. Giant trees, with their large, glossy leaves, +spread their shade far and wide. The air was very hot, yet not +oppressive. Around me flowers and fountains were springing from the +earth. Among the former there was one that particularly pleased me, and +to which all the others seemed to do homage." + +"Dear father," eagerly exclaimed Henry, "do tell me its color." + +"I cannot recollect it, though it was so fixed in my mind at the time." + +"Was it not blue?" + +"Perhaps it was," continued the old man, without giving heed to the +peculiar vehemence of his son. "All I recollect is, that my feelings +were so wrought up, that for a time I forgot all about my guide. When +at length I turned towards him, I noticed that he was looking at me +attentively, and that he met me with a pleasant smile. I do not +remember how I came from that place. I was again on the top of the +mountain; my guide stood by my side and said, 'You have seen the wonder +of the world. It lies in your power to become the happiest being in the +world, and, besides that, a celebrated man. Remember well what I tell +you. Come on St. John's day, towards evening, to this place, and when +you have devoutly prayed to God to interpret this vision, the highest +earthly lot will be yours. Also take notice particularly of a little +blue flower, which you will find above here; pluck it, and commit +yourself humbly to heavenly guidance.' I then dreamed that I was among +most splendid scenes and noble men, ravished by the swift changing +objects that met my eyes. How fluent were my words! how free my tongue! +How music swelled its strains! Afterwards everything became dull and +insignificant as usual. I saw your mother standing before me, with a +kind and modest look. A bright-looking child was in her arms. She +reached it to me; it gradually grew brighter; at length it raised +itself on its dazzling white wings, took us both in its arms, and +soared so high with us, that the earth appeared like a plate of gold, +covered with beautifully wrought carving. I only recollect, that, after +this vision, the flower, the old man, and the mountain appeared before +me again. I awoke soon after, much agitated by vehement love. I bade +farewell to my hospitable friend, who urged me to repeat my visit +often. I promised to do so, and should have kept my promise, had I not +shortly after left Rome for Augsburg, my mind being much excited by the +scenes I had witnessed." + + + + + CHAPTER II. + + +St. John's day was past. Henry's mother had for a long time delayed +making a journey to Augsburg, her paternal home, to present her son to +his grandfather, who had never yet seen him. Some merchants, trusty +friends of the elder Ofterdingen, were just about travelling to +Augsburg on business. Henry's mother resolved to improve this good +opportunity of fulfilling her wishes; and this more especially, because +she had observed that Henry had lately been more silent, and more taken +up with his own gloomy fancies than usual. She saw that he was out of +spirits, or sick; and thought that a long journey, the sight of strange +people and places, and, as she secretly anticipated, the charms of some +young country girl would drive off the gloomy mood of her son, and make +him as affable and cheerful as was his wont. Her husband agreed with +her in her plans, and Henry was delighted beyond all bounds with the +idea of visiting a country, which, for a long time, he had looked upon +(owing to the many things he had heard concerning it, from his mother +and from travellers) as an earthly Paradise, and in which he had often +wished himself. + +Henry was just twenty years old. He had never passed the environs of +his native city; the world was known to him only by report; only a few +books had come within his reach. The course of life at the Landgrave +was simple and quiet, according to the customs of the times; and the +splendor and comfort of princely life, in those days, could but poorly +compare with the conveniences, which, in our times, a private man can +obtain for himself and family, without extravagance. Yet by reason of +their very scarcity, a regard, almost approaching tenderness, was felt, +in those times, for household furniture, and the conveniences of life. +They were considered more valuable and curious. The secrets of nature, +and the origin of its bodies, hardly attracted the notice of thinking +minds, more than these scarce specimens of art and workmanship. This +regard, too, for these silent companions of life was much heightened, +by the distance from which they were brought, and by that charm of +antiquity which gathered around furniture, often the property of +successive generations; an heir-loom from father to son. They were +often raised to the rank of pledges of a peculiar blessing and destiny; +and the weal of whole kingdoms and far-scattered families depended upon +their preservation. A poverty, fair in its features, adorned that age +with a simplicity, full of significance and innocence. The treasures, +so sparingly scattered in that dawn, shone the more brightly, and gave +rise to many significant ideas in the thoughtful mind. If it is true +that a proper division of light, color, and shade reveals the hidden +splendor of the visible world, and opens for itself a new eye of a +higher character; such a division and splendor were to be seen then; +while these newer and more prosperous times represent the monotonous +and insignificant picture of a common day. In all transitions, as in an +interregnum, it appears as if a higher spiritual power were revealing +itself; and as, upon the surface of our earth, the countries, richest +both in subterraneous and super-terraneous treasures, lie between +wild, inhospitable, hoary rocks, and immense plains; so also a +deep-reflecting, romantic period made its appearance between the rough +ages of barbarism, and the cultivated, enlightened, and wealthy age, +which under a coarse garb conceals a still more beautiful form. Who +does not love to wander at twilight, when the light of day and the deep +shades of night mingle together in deep coloring? On this principle, we +are glad to carry ourselves, in imagination, back to the years when +Henry lived, who now went to meet the new circumstances, which might +encompass him, with a swelling heart. He took leave of his companions +and his instructer, the old and wise preacher, who knew the fertility +of Henry's genius, and who bade him farewell, with a feeling heart and +a silent prayer. The countess was his grandmother. He had often visited +her at Wartburg. He now separated from his protectress, who gave him +good counsel, and a golden chain, and who took leave of him with +expressions of friendship. It was with a sad heart that Henry left his +father and his birthplace. He now experienced for the first time what +separation was. His imaginings as to the journey had not been +accompanied with that peculiar feeling, which now filled his breast, +when, for the first time, the scenes of his youth were snatched from +his view, and he was cast, as it were, upon a foreign shore. Great +indeed is our youthful sorrow at this first experience of the +instability of earthly things, an experience necessary and +indispensable to the inexperienced mind, firmly connected with and +certain as our own existence. Our first separation remains, like the +first announcement of death, never to be forgotten, and becomes, after +it has long terrified us like a nightly vision, when at last joy at the +appearance of anew day decreases, and the longing after a fixed, safer +world increases, a friendly guide and a consoling and familiar idea. It +comforted the young man much, that his mother was with him. The world +he was leaving did not yet appear entirely lost, and he embraced her +with redoubled fondness. It was early in the day, when the travellers +rode from the gates of Eisenach, and the fresh daybreak was favorable +to Henry's excited mood. The clearer the day grew, the more remarkable +seemed to him the new and unknown scenes which surrounded him; and when +upon a hill, just as the landscape behind him was illuminated by the +rays of the rising sun, there occurred to him in the gloomy change of +his thoughts some of the old melodies he knew by heart. He found +himself in the swell of the distance, towards which he had often gazed +from the neighboring mountains, where he had often wished himself in +vain, and which he had painted to himself with peculiar colors. He was +on the point of dipping himself in its blue flood. The wonderful flower +stood before him, and he looked towards Thuringia, which he now left +behind him, with the strong idea, that he was returning to his +fatherland, after long wanderings from the country, towards which they +now were travelling, and as if in reality he was journeying homewards. + +The company, which at first had been silent from similar causes, began +by degrees to wake up, and to shorten the time by various conversation +and stories. Henry's mother felt it her duty to rouse him from the +dreamings, in which she saw him sunken; and began to tell him of her +father's land, of her father's house, and of the pleasant life in +Swabia. The merchants joined in, and confirmed what his mother said. +They praised the hospitality of the old man Swaning, and could not +sufficiently extol the beauteous fair ones of the country of their +travelling companion. + +"You do well," said they, "in taking your son thither. The customs of +your native country are of the most refined and pleasing character. +They know how to attend to what is useful, without despising the +agreeable. Every one endeavors to satisfy his wants in a social and +charming way. The merchant is well treated and respected. The arts and +mechanics are increased and ennobled; work appears easier to the +industrious man, because it helps him to many pleasures, and because, +as a reward for steady industry, he is sure to enjoy the manifold +fruits of various and profitable employments. Money, industry, and +goods reciprocally produce each other, and float along in busy circles. +The country, as well as the cities, flourishes. The more industriously +the day is employed, the more exclusively is the evening devoted to the +charming pleasures drawn from the fine arts, and to social intercourse. +The mind seeks recreation and change; and where could it find it more +proper or more attractive, than in those unchecked diversions, and in +those productions of its noblest power, the power of embodying its +conceptions into realities. Nowhere can you have such sweet singers, or +find such excellent painters, or see in the dancing halls more graceful +movements or lovelier forms. The neighborhood of Switzerland is +distinguished for the ease of its manners and conversation. Your race +adorns society; and without fear of being talked about, can excite by +their charming behavior a lively emulation to chain the attention. The +stern fortitude and the wild jovialty of the men make room for a mild +vivacity and a tender and modest joy, and love in a thousand forms +becomes the leading spirit of their happy companies. Far is it from the +truth, that dissoluteness or unseemly principles are by this course of +conduct developed. It seems as if the evil spirit shunned the approach +of innocent or graceful amusements, and certainly there are in no part +of Germany more irreproachable maidens, or more faithful wives, than in +Swabia. + +"Yes, my young friend, in the clear, warm air of southern Germany you +will soon lay aside your bashfulness; the youthful maidens will soon +render you easy and talkative. Your name alone, as a stranger and as a +relative of the old Swaning, who is the delight of every pleasant +company, will attract the pleasant gaze of the maidens towards you; and +if you follow the will of your grandfather, you will certainly bring to +our native city, as did your father, an ornament in the form of a +lovely woman." + +Henry's mother thanked them with a modest blush, for their +distinguished praise bestowed on her fatherland, and for their good +opinion of her countrywomen. Henry, full of thought, could not help +listening attentively and with heart-felt pleasure to the description +of the land, which he saw before him. + +"Although you do not take up your father's trade," continued the +merchants, "but rather, as we have been told, spend your time in the +pursuit of knowledge, yet you need not become one of the clergy, or +renounce the pleasantest enjoyments of this life. It is bad enough that +all learning is in the hands of an order, so separated from worldly +life, and that the rulers are counselled by such unsociable and really +inexperienced men. In solitude, where they have no share in worldly +affairs, their thoughts must take a useless turn, and cannot be applied +to everyday concerns. In Swabia you can find both wise and experienced +men among the laity, and you need only choose what branch of human +knowledge you prefer; for you cannot want there good teachers and +advisers." + +After a while Henry, whose thoughts had been led by this conversation +to the old court-preacher, said; "Although ignorant as I am of the real +condition of the world, I do not exactly rebel against your opinion, as +to the ability of the clergy to guide and judge of worldly affairs; +yet I hope I may be permitted to put you in mind of our excellent +court-preacher, who certainly is a pattern of a wise man, and whose +instructions and counsels I can never forget." + +"We revere with our whole hearts," replied the merchants, "that +excellent man; but we can agree with your opinion, only so far as you +speak of that wisdom, which concerns a life well pleasing to God. If +you consider him as wise in worldly affairs, as he is experienced and +learned in spiritual concerns, permit us to disagree with you. Yet we +do not believe that the holy man deserves any less praise, because by +the depth of his knowledge of the spiritual world, he is unable to gain +insight into and an understanding of earthly things." + +"But," said Henry, "is it not possible that that higher knowledge would +fit you to guide impartially the reins of human affairs? May it not be +possible that childlike and natural simplicity more safely travels the +road through the labyrinth of human affairs, than that wild, wandering, +and partially restrained wisdom, which considers its own interest, and +which is blinded by the unspeakable variety and perplexity of present +occurrences? I do not know, but it seems to me, that there are two +ways, by which to arrive at a knowledge of the history of man; the one +laborious and boundless, the way of experience; the other apparently +but one leap, the way of internal reflection. The wanderer of the first +must find out one thing from another by wearisome reckoning; the +wanderer of the second perceives the nature of everything and +occurrence directly by their very essence, views all things in their +continually varying connexions, and can easily compare one with +another, like figures on a slate. You will pardon me, that I address +you, as it were, from my childish dreams; nothing could have emboldened +me to speak but my confidence in your kindness, and the remembrance of +my teacher, who for a long time has pointed the second way out to me as +his own." + +"We willingly grant you," said the kind merchants, "that we are not +able to follow your train of thought; yet it pleases us that you so +warmly remember your excellent teacher, and treasure up so well his +lessons. It seems to us that you have a talent for poetry, you speak +your fancies out so fluently, and you are so full of choice expressions +and apt comparisons. You are also inclined to the wonderful,--the +poet's element." + +"I do not know whence it comes," said Henry; "I have heard poets spoken +of before now; but have never yet seen one. I cannot even form an idea +of their curious art; but yet have a great desire to hear about it. I +feel that I wish to know many things, of which dark hints only are in +my mind. I have often heard people speak of poems, but I have never yet +seen one, and my teacher never had occasion to learn the art. Nor have +I been able to comprehend everything that he has told me concerning it. +Yet he always considered it a noble art, to which I would devote myself +entirely, if I should become acquainted with it. In old times it was +much more common than now, and every one had some knowledge of it, +though in different degrees; moreover it was the sister of other arts +now lost. He thought that divine favor had highly honored the +minstrels, so that inspired by spiritual intercourse, they had been +able to proclaim heavenly wisdom upon earth in entrancing tones." + +The merchants then said; "We have in truth not troubled ourselves much +with the secrets of the poets, though we have often listened with +pleasure to their songs. Perhaps it is true that no man is a poet, +unless he is born under a particular star, for there is something +curious in this respect about this art. The other arts are very +different from it, and much easier to comprehend. The secrets of +painters and musicians can much more easily be imagined; and both can +be learned with industry and patience. The sound lies already in the +strings, and ability is all that is wanting, in order to move them, and +stir up each into a delightful harmony. In painting, nature is the best +instructress. She brings forth numberless beautiful and wonderful +forms, gives to them color, light, and shade; and a practised hand, an +exact eye, and a knowledge of the preparation and mixing of colors can +imitate nature to the life. How natural for us then to comprehend the +effect of these arts, and the pleasure derived from their productions. +The song of the nightingale, the whistling of the wind, and the +splendors of light, color, and form please us, because they strike our +senses agreeably; and as our senses are fitted for this by nature, +which also has the same effect, so must the artful imitation of nature +please us also. Nature herself will also draw enjoyment from the power +of art, and thence has she changed into man, and thus she now rejoices +herself over her noble splendors, separates what is agreeable and +lovely, and brings it forth by itself in such a way, that she can +possess and enjoy it in all ways and at all times and places. In the +art of poetry, on the contrary, there is nothing tangible to be met +with. It creates nothing with tools and hands. The eye and the ear +perceive it not; for the mere hearing of the words has no real +influence in this secret art. It is all internal; and as other artists +fill the external senses with agreeable emotions, so in like manner the +poet fills the internal sanctuary of the mind with new, wonderful, and +pleasing thoughts. He knows how to awaken at pleasure the secret powers +within us, and by words gives us force to see into an unknown and +glorious world. Ancient and future times, innumerable men, strange +countries, and the most singular events rise up within us, as from deep +hiding places, and tear us away from the known present. We hear strange +words and know not their import. The language of the poet stirs, up a +magic power; even ordinary words flow forth in charming melody, and +intoxicate the fast-bound listener." + +"You change every curiosity into ardent impatience," said Henry. "I +cannot hear enough of these strange men. It seems to me all at once, as +if I had heard them spoken of somewhere in my earliest youth; but I can +remember nothing more about it. But what you have said to me is very +clear and easy to comprehend, and you give me great pleasure by your +beautiful descriptions." + +"It is with pleasure," continued the merchants, "that we have looked +back upon the many pleasant hours we have spent in Italy, France, and +Swabia in the society of minstrels, and we are glad that you take so +lively an interest in our discourse about them. In travelling through +so many mountains, there is a double delight in conversation, and the +time passes pleasantly away. Perhaps you would be pleased to hear some +of the pretty tales concerning poets, that we have learned in our +travels. Of the poems themselves, which we have heard, we can say but +little, both because the pleasure and charm of the moment prevent the +memory from retaining much; and because our constant occupations in +business destroy many such recollections. + +"In olden times, all nature must have been more animate and spiritual +than now. Operations, which now animals scarcely seem to notice, and +which men alone in reality feel and enjoy, then put animate bodies into +motion; and it was thus possible for men of art to perform wonders and +produce appearances, which now seem wholly incredible and fabulous. +Thus it is said that there were poets in very ancient times, in the +regions of the present Greek empire, (as travellers, who have +discovered these things by traditions among the common people there, +have informed us,) who by the wonderful music of their instruments +stirred up a secret life in the woods, those spirits hidden in their +trunks; who gave life to the dead seeds of plants in waste and desert +regions, and called blooming gardens into existence; who tamed savage +beasts, and accustomed wild men to order and civilization; who brought +forth the tender affections, and the arts of peace, changed raging +floods into mild waters, and even tore away the rocks in dancing +movements. They are said to have been at the same time soothsayers and +priests, legislators and physicians, whilst even the spirits above were +drawn down by their bewitching song, and revealed to them the mysteries +of futurity, the balance and natural arrangement of all things, the +inner virtues and healing powers of numbers, of plants, and of all +creatures. Then first appeared the varied melody, the peculiar harmony +and order, which breathe through all nature; while before all was in +confusion, wild and hostile. And here one thing is to be noticed; that +although these beautiful traces for the recollection of these men +remain, yet has their art, or their delicate sensibility to the +beauties of nature been lost. Among other occurrences, it once happened +that one of this peculiar class of poets or musicians,--although music +and poetry may be considered as pretty much the same thing, like mouth +and ear, of which the first is only a movable and answering ear,--that +once this poet wished to cross the sea to a foreign land. He had with +him many jewels and costly articles, which he had received as tributes +of gratitude. He found a ship ready to sail, and easily agreed upon a +price for his passage. But the splendor and beauty of his treasures so +excited the avarice of the sailors, that they resolved among themselves +to take him, throw him overboard, and afterwards to divide his goods +with each other. Accordingly, when they were far from land, they fell +upon him, and told him that he must die, because they had resolved to +cast him into the sea. He begged them to spare his life in the most +touching terms, offered them his treasures as a ransom, and prophesied +that great misfortunes would overtake them, should they take his life. +But they were not to be moved, being fearful lest he should sometime +reveal their wickedness. When he saw at last that their resolution was +taken, he prayed them that at least they would suffer him to play his +swan song, after which he would willingly plunge into the sea, with his +poor, wooden instrument, before their eyes. They knew very well that, +should they once hear his magic song, their hearts would be softened +and overwhelmed with repentance; therefore they granted his last +request indeed, but stopped their ears, that not hearing his song, they +might abide by their resolution. Thus it happened. The minstrel began a +beautiful song, pathetic beyond conception. The whole ship accorded, +the waters resounded, the sun and the stars appeared at once in the +sky, and the inhabitants of the deep issued from the green flood about +them, in dancing hosts. The people of the ship stood alone by +themselves, with hostile intent waiting impatiently for the end of his +song. It was soon finished. Then the minstrel plunged with serene brow +down the dark abyss, carrying with him his wonder-working instrument. +Scarcely had he touched the glittering wave, when a monster of the deep +rose up beneath him, and quickly bore the astonished minstrel away. It +swam directly to the shore whither he had been journeying, and landed +him gently among the rushes. The poet sang a song of gratitude to his +saviour, and joyfully went his way. Sometime after the occurrence of +these events, he again visited the seashore, and lamented in sweetest +tones his lost treasures, which had been dear to him as remembrances of +happier hours, and as tokens of love and gratitude. While he was thus +singing, his old friend came swimming joyfully through the waves, and +rolled from his back upon the sand the long-lost treasures. The +boatmen, after the minstrel had leaped into the sea, began immediately +to divide the spoil. During the division a murderous quarrel arose +between them, which cost many of them their lives. The few that +remained were not able to navigate the vessel; it struck the shore and +foundered. They with difficulty saved their lives, and reached the +beach with torn garments and empty hands. Thus by the aid of the +grateful sea-monster, who had gathered them up from the bottom of the +sea, the treasures came into the hands of their original possessor." +[See Note I. at the end.] + + + + + CHAPTER III. + + +There is another story, continued the merchants after a pause, +certainly less wonderful and taken from later times, which yet may +please you and give you a clearer insight into the operations of that +wonderful art. There was once an old king, whose court was the most +splendid of his age. People streamed thither from far and near, in +order to share in the splendor of his mode of life. There was not +wanting the greatest abundance of costly delicacies at his daily +entertainments. There was music, splendid decorations, a thousand +different dramatic representations, with other amusements to pass away +the time. Nor did intellect fail to be represented there in the persons +of sage, pleasant, and learned men, who added to the entertainment and +inspiration of the conversation. Finally, there were added many chaste +and beautiful youth of both sexes, who constituted the real soul of the +charming festivals. The old king, otherwise a strict and stern man, +entertained two inclinations, which were the true causes of the +splendor of his court, and to which it owed its thanks for its +beautiful arrangement. The first of these inclinations was his love for +his daughter, who was infinitely dear to him, as a pledge of the love +of his wife, who had died in her youth, and to whom, for her marvellous +loveliness, he would have sacrificed all the treasures of nature, and +all the powers of human minds, in order to create for her a heaven upon +earth. The other was a real passion for poesy and her masters. He had +from his youth read the works of the poets with heart-felt delight, and +had spent much labor and great sums of money in the collection of the +poetical works of every tongue, and the society of minstrels was +especially dear to him. He invited them from all quarters to his court, +and loaded them with honors. He never grew wearied with their songs, +and for the sake of some new and splendid production often forgot the +most important business affairs, and even the necessaries of life. +Amidst such strains had his daughter grown up, and her soul became, as +it were, a tender song, the artless expression of longing and of +sadness. The beneficent influence, which the protected and honored +poets exerted, showed itself through the whole land, but particularly +at the court. Life, like some precious potion, was enjoyed in lingering +and gentle draughts, and in its purer pleasures; because all low and +hateful passions were shunned, as jarring discords to the harmony which +ruled all minds. Peace of soul, and beautiful contemplations of a +self-created happy world, had become the possession of this wonderful +time, and dissension appeared only in the old legends of the poets, as +a former enemy of man. It seemed as if the spirits of song could have +given no lovelier token of their gratitude to their protector, than his +daughter, who possessed all that the sweetest imagination could unite +in the tender form of a fair maiden. When you beheld her at the +beautiful festivals, amid a band of charming companions in glittering +white dress, intensely listening to the rival songs of the inspired +minstrels, and with blushes placing the fragrant garland around the +locks of the happy one, who had won the prize, you would have taken her +for the beautiful and embodied spirit of this art, conspiring with its +magic language; and you would cease to wonder at the ecstasies and +melodies of the poets. + +Yet a mysterious fate seemed to be at work in the midst of this earthly +paradise; The sole concern of the people of that country was about the +marriage of the blooming princess, upon which the continuation of their +blissful times, and the fate of the whole land, depended. The king was +growing old. This care lay heavy at his heart; and yet no opening for +marriage showed itself, that was agreeable to the wishes of all. A holy +reverence for the royal family forbade any subject to harbor the idea +of proposing for the hand of the princess. She was hardly regarded as a +creature of this earth, and all the princes, who had appeared at court +with proposals, seemed so inferior to her, that no one thought that the +princess or the king could fix their eye on any one of them. A sense of +inferiority had by degrees deterred any suitors from visiting the +court, and the wide-spread report of the excessive pride of the royal +family seemed to take away from all others the desire to see themselves +equally humbled. Nor was this report entirely without foundation. The +king, with all his mildness of disposition, had almost unconsciously +imbibed a feeling of lofty superiority, which rendered every thought of +a connexion of his daughter with a man of lower rank and obscurer +origin unendurable and impossible to be entertained. Her high and +unparalleled worth had heightened this feeling within him. He was +descended from a very old royal family of the East. His consort had +been the last of the descendants of the renowned hero Rustan. His +minstrels continually sang to him of his relationship to those +superhuman beings, who formerly ruled the world. In the magic mirror of +their art the difference between the origin of his family and that of +other men, and the splendor of his descent, appeared yet clearer, so +that it seemed to him that he was connected with the rest of the human +family through the nobler class of the poets alone. He looked around in +vain for a second Rustan, whilst he felt that the heart of his blooming +daughter, the situation of his kingdom, and his increasing age rendered +her marriage, in all points of view, most desirable. Not far from the +capital, there lived, upon a retired country-seat, an old man, who +occupied himself exclusively with the education of his only son, except +that he occasionally assisted the country people by his advice in cases +of dangerous sickness. The young man was of a serious disposition, and +devoted himself exclusively to the study of nature, in which his father +had instructed him from childhood. The old man many years before had +arrived from a distance at this peaceful and blooming region, and was +content while enjoying the beneficent peace, which the king had spread +abroad through this retreat. He took advantage of this peace to search +into the powers of nature, and impart the piecing knowledge to his son, +who gave evidence of much talent for the pursuit, and to whose +penetrating mind nature willingly confided her secrets. Without a lofty +power of understanding, the secret expression of his noble face, and +the peculiar brilliancy of his eyes, you would have called the +appearance of this youth ordinary and insignificant. But the longer you +gazed upon him, the more attractive he became; and you could scarcely +tear yourself from him, when you had once beard his soft impressive +voice, and the utterances which his glorious talents prompted. One day, +the princess, whose pleasure-garden adjoined the forest, which +concealed the country house of the old man in a little valley, had +betaken herself thither alone on horseback, that she might follow out +her fancies undisturbed, and sing to herself her favorite songs. The +fresh air of the lofty trees enticed her gradually deeper into their +shade, until at last she came to the house where the old man lived with +his son. Happening to feel thirsty, she alighted, fastened the horse to +a tree, and stepped into the house, to ask for a glass of milk. The son +was present, and was well nigh confounded by the enchanting appearance +of a majestic female form, which seemed almost immortal, adorned as it +was by all the charms of youth and beauty, and by that indescribable +fascinating transparency, revealing the tender, innocent, and noble +soul. While he hastened to gratify her desire, the old man addressed +her with modest respect, and invited her to be seated at their simple +hearth, which was placed in the middle of the house, and on which there +glimmered noiselessly a light blue flame. Immediately on entering, the +princess was struck with the varied ornaments of the room, the order +and cleanliness of the whole, and the peculiar sanctity of the place; +and her impression was heightened yet more by the venerable appearance +of the old man, poorly clad as he was, and by the modest behavior of +the son. The former recognised her immediately as a lady of the court, +judging this from her costly dress and noble carriage. While the son +was absent, the princess asked him about some curiosities which had +caught her eye, and especially concerning some old and singular +pictures, which stood at her side over the hearth, and which he kindly +undertook to explain to her. The son soon returned with a pitcher of +fresh milk, which he artlessly and respectfully handed her. After some +interesting conversation with the hosts, she gracefully thanked them +for their hospitality, and with blushes asked the old man's permission +to visit his house again, that she might enjoy his instructive +conversation concerning his wonderful curiosities. She then rode back +without having divulged her rank, as she noticed that neither the +father nor the son knew her. Although the capital was situated thus +near, they were both so buried in their studies, that they strove to +shun the busy world; and the young man had never been seized with the +desire of being present at the festivities of the court. He had never +been accustomed to leave his father alone for more than an hour at the +utmost, while roaming through the woods searching for insects and +plants, and sharing the inspiration of the mute spirit of nature +through the influence of its various outward charms. The simple +occurrences of this day were equally important to the old man, the +princess, and the youth. The first easily perceived the novel and deep +impression, which the unknown lady had made upon his son. He knew his +character perfectly, and was fully aware that such a deep impression +would last as long as his life. His youth, and the nature of his heart, +would of necessity render the first feeling of this nature an +unconquerable passion. The old man had for a long time looked forward +to such an occurrence. The exceeding loveliness of the stranger excited +an involuntary sympathy in the soul of his son, and his unsuspicious +mind harbored no troublesome anxiety about the issue of this singular +adventure. The princess had never been conscious of experiencing such +emotions as arose in her mind, while riding slowly homeward. She could +form no exact idea of the curiously mixed, wondrously stirring feelings +of a new existence. A magical veil was spread in wide folds over her +clear consciousness. It seemed to her that, when it should be +withdrawn, she would find herself in a more spiritual world than this. +The recollection of the art of poetry, which hitherto had occupied her +whole soul, seemed now like a far distant song, connecting her +peculiarly delightful dream with the past. When she reached the palace, +she was almost frightened at its varied splendor, and yet more at the +welcome of her father, for whom for the first time in her life she +experienced a distant respect. She thought it impossible for her to +mention her adventure to him. Her other companions were too much +accustomed to her reveries, and her deep abstractions of thought and +fancy, to notice anything extraordinary in her conduct. She seemed now +to lose some of her affable sweetness of disposition. She felt as if +she were among strangers, and a peculiar anxiety harassed her until +evening, when the joyful song of some minstrel, who chanted the praises +of hope, and sang with magic inspiration of the wonders which follow +faith in the fulfilment of our wishes, filled her with consolation, and +lulled her with the sweetest dreams. + +As soon as the princess had taken leave, the youth plunged into the +forest. He had followed her among the bushes as far as the garden gate, +and then sought to return by the road. As he was walking along, he saw +some bright object shining before his feet. He stooped and picked up a +dark red stone, one side of which was wonderfully brilliant, and the +other was graved with ciphers. He knew it to be a costly carbuncle, and +thought that he had observed it in the middle of the necklace which the +unknown lady wore. He hastened with winged footsteps home, as if she +were yet there, and brought the stone to his father. They decided that +the son should return next morning to the road, and see whether any one +was sent to look for it; if not, they would keep it till they received +a second visit from the lady, and then return it to her. The young man +passed much of the night gazing at the carbuncle, and felt towards +morning irresistibly inclined to write a few words upon the paper in +which he wrapt it. He hardly knew himself the meaning of the words +which he wrote: + + A mystic token deeply graved is beaming + Within the glowing crimson of the stone, + Like to a heart, that, lost in pleasant dreaming, + Keepeth the image of the fair unknown. + A thousand sparks around the gem are streaming, + A softened radiance in the heart is thrown; + From that, the light's indwelling essence darts. + But ah, will this too have the heart of hearts? + +As soon as the morning dawned, he took his way in haste to the garden +gate. + +In the mean while the princess in undressing on the previous evening, +had missed the jewel from her necklace. It was a memento from her +mother, and moreover a talisman, the possession of which insured to her +the liberty of her person, since with it she could never fall into +another's power against her will. + +This loss surprised more than it frightened her. She remembered that +she had it the day before when riding, and was quite certain that it +was lost, either in the house of the old man, or on the way back +through the woods. She still remembered the exact road she had taken, +and concluded to go in search of it as soon as the day should break. +This idea caused her so much joy, that it seemed as if she was not at +all sorry for her loss, in the good pretence it gave to take the same +road once more. At daybreak she passed through the garden to the +forest; as she walked with unwonted speed, it was natural that her +bosom should feel oppressed, and her heart beat faster than usual. The +sun was beginning to gild the tops of the old trees, which moved with a +gentle whispering, as if they would waken each other from their drowsy +night-faces, in order to greet the sun together; when the princess, +startled by a rustling at some distance, looked down the road, and saw +the young man hastening towards her. He at the same time observed her. + +He remained a while standing as if enchained, and gazed fixedly upon +her, as if to assure himself that her appearance was real and no +illusion. They greeted each other with subdued expressions of joy at +their meeting, as if they had long known and loved each other. Before +the princess could explain to him the reason of her early walk, he +handed her with blushes and a beating heart the stone in the inscribed +billet. It seemed as if the princess anticipated the meaning of the +lines. She took the billet silently and with a trembling hand, and +almost unconsciously hung a golden chain, which she wore about her +neck, upon him, as a reward for his fortunate discovery. He knelt +abashed before her, and could hardly find words to answer her inquiries +about his father. She told him in a half whisper, and with downcast +eyes, that she would with pleasure soon visit them again, and take +advantage of his father's promise to make her acquainted with his +curiosities. + +She thanked the young man again with unusual feeling, and returned +slowly on her way without once looking back. The youth was speechless. +He bowed respectfully and gazed after her for a long time, until she +vanished behind the trees. In a few days she visited them again, and +after this her visits became frequent. The youth by degrees became the +companion of her walks. He accompanied her from the garden at an +appointed hour, and escorted her back again. She observed a strict +silence with respect to her rank, confiding as she otherwise was to her +attendant, from whom no thought of her heavenly soul was ever hidden. +The loftiness of her descent seemed to pour a secret fear into her. The +young man gave up to her likewise his whole soul. Both father and son +considered her a maiden of quality from the court. She clung to the old +man with the tenderness of a daughter. Her caresses lavished upon him +were the rapturous prophets of her tenderness towards his son. She was +soon perfectly at home in the wonderful house; and while she sang to +her lute her charming song with an unearthly voice, the old man and the +son sitting at her feet, the latter of whom she instructed in the +divine art; she learned on the other hand from his inspired lips the +solution of those riddles, which everywhere abound in the secrets of +nature. He taught her how by a mysterious sympathy the world had +arisen, and the stars been united in their harmonious order. The +history of the past became clear to her mind from his holy fables; and +how delightful it became, when in the height of his inspiration her +scholar seized the lute, and broke out with incredible skill into the +most admirable songs. One day, when seized by a peculiar romance of +feeling, she was in his company, and her powerful, long-cherished love +overcame at returning her customary, maiden timidity; they both almost +unconsciously sank into each other's arms, and the first glowing kiss +melted them into one forever. As the sun was setting, the roaring of +the trees gave notice of a mighty tempest. Threatening thunder-clouds +with their deep, night-like darkness gathered over them. The young man +hastened to carry his charge in safety from the fearful hurricane and +the crashing branches. But through the darkness and his fear for his +beloved, he missed the road, and plunged deeper and deeper into the +forest. His fear increased when he perceived his mistake. The princess +thought of the terror of the king and of the court. An unutterable +anxiety pierced at times like a consuming ray into her soul; and the +voice of her lover, who continually spoke consolation to her heart, +alone restored courage and confidence, and eased her oppressed bosom. + +The storm raged on; all endeavors to find the road were in vain, and +they both thought themselves fortunate, when, by a flash of lightning, +they discovered a cave near at hand on the declivity of a woody hill, +where they hoped to find a safe refuge from the dangers of the tempest, +and a resting place from their fatigue. Fortune realized their wishes. +The cave was dry and overgrown with clean moss. The young man quickly +lighted a fire of brushwood and moss, by which they could dry their +garments; and the two lovers saw themselves thus strangely separated +from the world, saved from a dangerous situation, and alone at each +other's side in a warm and comfortable shelter. + +A wild almond branch, loaded with fruit, hung down into the cave; and a +neighboring stream of trickling water quenched their thirst. The youth +had preserved his lute; and now they were entertained by its consoling +and cheering music, as they sat by the crackling fire. A higher power +seemed to have taken upon itself to loosen the knot more quickly, and +to have brought them under peculiar circumstances into this romantic +situation. The innocence of their hearts, the magic harmony of their +minds, the united, irresistible power of their sweet passion, and their +youth, soon made them forget the world and their relations to it, and +lulled them, under the bridal song of the tempest and the nuptial +torches of the lightning, into the sweetest intoxication, by which a +mortal couple ever has been blessed. The break of the light blue +morning was to them the awakening of a new, blissful world. +Nevertheless a stream of hot tears, which soon gushed forth from the +eyes of the princess, revealed to her lover the thousand-fold +anxieties, which were awakening in her heart. In one night he had grown +old in years, and had passed from youth to manhood. With an inspiring +enthusiasm, he consoled his mistress, reminded her of the holiness of +true love, and of the high faith which it inspired, and prayed her to +look forward with confidence from the good spirit of her heart to the +brightest future. The princess felt that his consolation was founded on +truth, revealed to him that she was the daughter of the king, and that +she feared only on account of the pride and anxiety of her father. +After mature consideration, they concluded what course to pursue, and +the young man immediately started to seek his father, and to make him +acquainted with their plan. He promised to be with her again soon, and +left her lost in sweet imaginings of what would be the issue of these +occurrences. The youth soon reached the dwelling of his father, who was +right glad to see his son return to him in safety. He listened to the +story and the plans of the lovers, and seemed willing to assist them. +His house was retired, and contained some subterraneous chambers, which +could not easily be discovered. Here the princess was to dwell. She was +brought thither at twilight, and received by the old man with deep +emotion. She afterwards often wept in her solitude, when her thoughts +reverted to her mourning father; yet she concealed her grief from her +lover, and told it only to the old man, who consoled her kindly, and +painted to her imagination her early return to her father. + +In the mean time the court had fallen into the greatest alarm, when, at +evening, the princess was missing. The king was entirely beside +himself, and sent people in every direction to seek her. No man could +explain her absence. No one mistrusted that she was entangled in a love +affair, and therefore an elopement was not thought of. Moreover no +other person of the court was missing, nor was there any cause for the +remotest suspicion. The messengers returned without having accomplished +anything, and the king sank into the deepest dejection. It was only at +evening, when his minstrels came before him, bringing with them their +beautiful songs, that his former pleasure appeared renewed to him; his +daughter seemed near him, and he conceived the hope that he should soon +behold her again. But when he was again alone, his heart seemed like to +break, and he wept aloud. Then he thought within himself; "of what +advantage to me now is all this splendor and my high birth? Without +her, even these songs are mere words and delusions. She was the charm +that gave them life and joy, power and form. Would rather that I were +the lowest of my subjects. Then my daughter would still be with me; +perhaps also I should have a son-in-law, and my grandson would sit upon +my knees; then indeed I should be another king than I am now. It is not +the crown or the kingdom that makes the king; it is the full, +overflowing feeling of happiness, the satiety of earthly possessions, +the consciousness of perfect satisfaction and content. In this way am I +now punished for my pride. The loss of my wife did not sufficiently +humble me; but now my misery is boundless." Thus complained the king in +his hours of ardent longing. Yet at times his old austerity and pride +broke forth. He was angry with his own complaints; he would endure and +be silent as becomes a king. He thought even then that he suffered more +than all others, and that royalty was burdened with heavy care; but +when it became darker, and stepping into the chamber of his daughter he +beheld her clothes hanging there, and her little effects scattered +around, as if she had but a moment before left the chamber; then he +forgot his resolutions, exhibited all the gestures of sorrow, and +called upon his lowest servant for sympathy. All the city and country +wept and condoled with him, with their whole hearts. It is worthy of +remark, that it was noised abroad that the princess yet lived, and +would soon return with a husband. No one knew whence this report arose; +but every one clung to it with joyous belief, and awaited her return +with impatient expectation. Thus several months passed on, until spring +again drew nigh. "What will you wager," said some of sanguine +disposition, "that the princess will not return also?" Even the king +grew more serene and hopeful. The report seemed to him like a promise +from some kind power. The accustomed festivals were again renewed, and +nought seemed wanting but the princess to fill up the bloom of their +former splendor. One evening, exactly a year from the time when she +disappeared, the whole court was assembled in the garden. The air was +warm and serene; and no sound was heard but that of the gentle wind in +the tops of the old trees, announcing, as it were, the approach of some +far off joy. A mighty fountain, arising amid the torches, which with +their innumerable lights relieved the duskiness of the sighing +tree-tops, accompanied the varied songs with melodious murmurs sounding +through the forest. The king sat upon a costly carpet, and the court in +festal dress was gathered around him. The multitude filled the garden, +and encircled the splendid scene. The king at this moment was sitting +plunged in profound thought. The image of his lost daughter appeared +before him with unwonted clearness. He thought of the happy days, which +ended with the last year about that time. A burning desire overpowered +him, and the tears flowed fast down his venerable cheeks; yet he +experienced a hope, as clear as it was unusual. It seemed as if the +past year of sorrow were but a heavy dream, and he raised his eyes as +if seeking her lofty, holy, captivating form amidst the people and the +trees. The minstrel had just ended, and deep silence gave evidence of +deep emotion; for the poets had sung of the joys of meeting, of spring, +and of the future, as hope is accustomed to adorn them. + +The silence was suddenly interrupted by the low sound of an unknown but +beautiful voice, which seemed to proceed from an aged oak. All looks +were directed towards it, and a young man in simple, but peculiar +dress, was seen standing with a lute upon his arm. He continued his +song, yet saluted the king, as he turned his eyes towards him, with a +profound, bow. His voice was remarkably fine, and the song of a nature +strange and wonderful. He sang the origin of the world, the stars, +plants, animals, and men, the all-powerful sympathy of nature; the +remote age of gold, and its rulers Love and Poesy; the appearance of +hatred and barbarism, and their battles with these beneficient +goddesses; and finally, the future triumph of the latter, the end of +affliction, the renovation of nature, and the return of an eternal +golden age. Even, the old minstrels, wrapped in ecstasy, drew nearer to +the singular stranger. A charm, they had never before felt, seized all +listeners, and the king was carried away in feeling, as upon a tide +from Heaven. Such music had never before been heard. All thought that a +heavenly being had appeared among them; and especially so, because the +young man appeared, during his song, continually to grow more beautiful +and resplendent, and his voice more powerful. The gentle wind played +with his golden locks. The lute in his hands seemed inspired, and +it was as if his intoxicated gaze pierced into a secret world. The +child-like innocence and simplicity of his face appeared to all +transcendant. Now the glorious strain was finished. The elder poets +pressed the young man to their bosoms with tears of joy. A silent +inward exultation shot through the whole assembly. The king, filled +with emotion, approached him. The young man threw himself reverently at +his feet. The king raised him up, embraced him, and bade him ask for +any gift. Then, with glowing cheeks he prayed the king to listen to +another song, and to decide as to his request. The king stepped a few +paces back, and the young stranger began:-- + + Through many a rugged, thorny pass, + With tattered robe, the minstrel wends; + He toils through flood and deep morass, + Yet none a helping hand extends. + Now lone and pathless, overflows + With bitter plaint his wearied heart; + Trembling beneath his lute he goes, + And vanquished by a deeper smart. + + There is to me a mournful lot, + Deserted quite I wander here;-- + Delight and peace to all I brought, + But yet to share them none are near. + To human life, and everything + That mortals have, I lent a bliss; + Yet all, with slender offering + My heart's becoming claim dismiss. + + They calmly let me take my leave, + As spring is seen to wander on; + And none she gladdens, ever grieve + When quite dejected she hath gone. + For fruits they covetously long, + Nor wist she sows them in her seed; + I make a heaven for them in song, + Yet not a prayer enshrines the deed. + + With joy I feel that from above + Weird spirits to these lips are bann'd, + O, that the magic tie of love + Were also knitted to my hand! + But none regard the pilgrim lone, + Who needy came from distant isles; + What heart will pity yet his own, + And quench his grief in winning smiles? + + The lofty grass is waving, where + He sinks with tearful cheeks to rest; + But thither winnowing the air, + Song-spirits seek his aching breast; + Forgetting now thy former pain, + Its burden early cast behind,-- + What thou in huts hast sought in vain, + Within the palace wilt thou find. + + Awaiteth thee a high renown, + The troubled course is ending now; + The myrtle-wreath becomes a crown, + Hands truest place it on thy brow. + A tuneful heart by nature shares + The glory that surrounds a throne; + Up rugged steps the poet fares, + And straight becomes the monarch's son. + +So far he had proceeded in his song, and wonder held the assembly +spell-bound; when, during these stanzas, an old man with a veiled +female of noble stature, carrying in her arms a child of wondrous +beauty, who playfully eyed the assembly, and smilingly outstretched its +little hands after the diadem of the king, made their appearance and +placed themselves behind the minstrel. But the astonishment was +increased, when the king's favorite eagle, which was always about his +person, flew down from the tops of the trees with a golden headband, +which he must have stolen from the king's chamber, and hovered over the +head of the young man, so that the band fastened itself around his +tresses. The stranger was frightened for a moment; the eagle flew to +the side of the king, and left the band behind. The young man now +handed it to the child, who reached after it; and sinking upon one knee +towards the king, continued his song with agitated voice:-- + + From fairy dreams the minstrel flies + Abroad, impatient and elate; + Beneath the lofty trees he hies + Toward the stately palace-gate. + Like polished steel the walls oppose, + But over swiftly climb his strains; + And seized by love's delicious throes, + The monarch's child the singer gains. + + They melt in passionate embrace, + But clang of armor bids them flee; + Within a nightly refuge place + They nurse the new-found ecstasy. + In covert timidly they stay, + Affrighted by the monarch's ire; + And wake with every dawning day + At once to grief and glad desire. + + Hope is the minstrel's soft refrain, + To quell the youthful mother's tears; + When lo, attracted by the strain, + The king within the cave appears. + The daughter holds in mute appeal + The grandson with his golden hair; + Sorrowed and terrified they kneel, + And melts his stern resolve to air. + + And yieldeth too upon the throne + To love and song a Father's breast; + With sweet constraint he changes soon + To ceaseless joy the deep unrest. + With rich requital love returns + The peace it lately would destroy, + And mid atoning kisses burns + And blossoms an Elysian joy. + + Spirit of Song! oh, hither come, + And league with love again to bring + The exiled daughter to her home, + To find a father in the king! + To willing bosom may he press + The mother and her pleading one, + And yielding all to tenderness, + Embrace the minstrel as his son. + +The young man, on uttering these words, which softly swelled through +the dark paths, raised with trembling hand the veil. The princess, her +eyes streaming with tears, fell at the feet of the king, and reached to +him the beauteous child. The minstrel knelt with bowed head at her +side. An anxious silence seemed to hold the breath of every one +suspended. For a few moments the king remained grave and speechless; +then he took the princess to his bosom, pressed her to himself with a +warm embrace, and wept aloud. He also raised the young man, and +embraced him with heart-felt tenderness. Exulting joy flew through the +assembly, which began to crowd eagerly around them. Taking the child, +the king raised it towards Heaven with touching devotion; and then +kindly greeted the old man. Countless tears of joy were shed. The poets +burst forth in song, and the night became a sacred festive eve of +promise to the whole land, where life henceforth was but one delightful +jubilee. No one can tell whither that land has fled. Tradition only +whispers us that mighty floods have snatched Atlantis from our eyes. + + + + + CHAPTER IV. + + +Several days' journey was accomplished without the least interruption. +The road was hard and dry, the weather refreshing and serene, and the +countries, through which they passed, fertile, inhabited, and +continually varied. The fertile Thuringian forest lay behind them. The +merchants, who had often travelled by the same road, were acquainted +with the people, and experienced everywhere the most hospitable +reception. They avoided the retired regions, and such as were infested +with robbers, or took a sufficient escort for their protection, when +obliged to travel through them. Many proprietors of the neighboring +castles were on good terms with the merchants. The latter visited them, +seeking orders for Augsburg. Much friendly hospitality was shown them, +and the old ladies with their daughters pressed around them with hearty +curiosity. Henry's mother immediately won their affection by her +good-natured complaisance and sympathy. They were rejoiced to see a +lady from the capital, who was willing to tell them new fashions, and +who taught them the recipes for many pleasant dishes. The young +Ofterdingen was praised by knights and ladies, on account of his +modesty and artless, mild behavior. The ladies lingered, too, with +pleasure upon his captivating form, which resembled the simple word of +some Unknown, which perhaps one scarcely regards, until, long after he +has gone, it gradually opens its bud, and at length presents a +beautiful flower in all the colored splendor of deeply interwoven +leaves, so that one never forgets it, nor is ever wearied of its +remembrance, but finds in it an exhaustless and ever-present treasure. +We now begin to divine the Unknown more exactly; and our presages take +form, till at once it becomes clear, that he was an inhabitant of a +higher world. The merchants received many orders, and parted from their +hosts with mutual hearty wishes, that they might see each other soon +again. In one of these castles, where they arrived towards evening, the +people were enjoying themselves right jovially. The lord of the castle +was an old soldier, who celebrated and interrupted the leisure of +peace, and the solitude of his situation, with frequent banquets; and +who, besides the tumult of war and the chase, knew no other means of +pastime, except the brimming beaker. + +He received the new guests with brotherly heartiness, in the midst of +his noisy companions. The mother was conducted to the lady of the +castle. The merchants and Henry were obliged to seat themselves at the +merry table, where the beaker passed bravely around. Henry, after much +intreaty, was, in consideration of his youth, excused from pledging +every time; the merchants, on the contrary, did not find it much +against their tastes, and smacked the old Frank-wine with tolerable +gusto. The conversation turned upon the adventures of past years. Henry +listened attentively to what was said. The knights spoke of the holy +land, of the wonders of the sacred tomb, of the adventures of their +enterprise and voyage, of the Saracens in whose power some of them had +been, and of the joyous and wonderful life of field and camp. They +expressed with great animation their indignation, when they learned +that the heavenly birth-place of Christendom was in the power of the +unbelieving heathen. They exalted those great heroes, who had earned +for themselves an immortal crown, by their persevering endeavors +against this lawless people. The lord of the castle showed the rich +sword, which he had taken from their leader with his own hand, after he +had conquered his castle, slain him, and made his wife and children +prisoners, which deeds, by the permission of the emperor, were +represented on his coat of arms. All examined the splendid sword. Henry +took it and felt suddenly inspired with warlike ardor. He kissed it +with fervent devotion. The knight rejoiced at his sympathy with their +feelings. The old man embraced him, and encouraged him to devote his +hand also forever to the deliverance of the holy sepulchre, and to have +affixed to his shoulder the marvel-working cross. He was enraptured, +and seemed hardly able to release the sword. "Think, my son," cried the +old knight, "a new crusade is on the point of departure. The emperor +himself will lead our forces into the land of the morning. Throughout +all Europe the cry of the cross is sounding anew, and everywhere heroic +devotion is excited. Who knows that we may not, a year hence, be +sitting at each other's side in the great and far renowned city of +Jerusalem, as joyful conquerors, and think of home over the wine of our +fatherland? You will see here, at my house, a maiden from the holy +land. Its maidens appear very charming to us of the West; and if you +guide your sword skilfully, beauteous captives shall not be wanting." +The knights sang with a loud voice the Crusade-song, which at that time +was a favorite throughout Europe. + + The grave in heathen hands remaineth; + The grave, wherein the Savior lay, + Their cruel mockery sustaineth, + And is unhallowed every day. + Its sorrow comes in stifled plea,-- + Who saves me from this injury? + + Where bides each valorous adorer? + The zeal of Christendom has gone! + Where is the ancient Faith's restorer? + Who lifts the cross and beckons on? + Who'll free the grave and rend in twain + The haughty foe's insulting chain? + + A holy storm o'er earth and billow + Is rushing through the midnight hour; + To stir the sleeper from his pillow, + It roars round city, camp, and tower, + In wailful cry from battlements,-- + Up, tardy Christian, get thee hence. + + Lo, angels everywhere commanding + With solemn faces, voicelessly,-- + And pilgrims at the gates are standing + With tearful cheeks, appealingly! + They sadly mourn, those holy men, + The fierceness of the Saracen. + + There breaks a red and sullen morrow + O'er Christendom's extended field; + The grief, that springs from love and sorrow, + In every bosom is revealed; + The hearth is left in sudden zeal, + And each one grasps the cross and steel. + + The armed bands are chafing madly, + To rescue the Redeemer's grave; + Toward the sea they hasten gladly, + The holy ground to reach and save. + And children too obey the spell, + The consecrated mass to swell. + + High waves the cross, its triumph flinging + On scarred hosts that rally there, + And Heaven, wide its portal swinging, + Is all revealed in upper air; + For Christ each warrior burns to pour + His blood upon the sacred shore. + + To battle, Christians! God's own legion + Attends you to the promised land, + Nor long before the Paynim region + Will smoke beneath His terror-hand. + We soon shall drench in joyous mood + The sacred grave with heathen blood. + + The Holy Virgin hovers, lying + On angel wings, above the plain. + Where all, by hostile weapon dying, + Upon her bosom wake again. + She bends with cheeks serenely bright + Amid the thunder of the fight. + + Then over to the holy places! + That stifled plea is never dumb! + By prayer and conquest blot the traces, + That mark the guilt of Christendom! + If first the Savior's grave we gain, + No longer lasts the heathen reign. + +Henry's whole soul was in commotion. The tomb rose before him like a +youthful form, pale and stately, upon a massive stone in the midst of a +savage multitude, cruelly maltreated, and gazing with sad countenance +upon a cross, which shone in the background with vivid outlines, and +multiplied itself in the tossing waves of the ocean. + +Just at this time, his mother sent for him to present him to the +knight's lady. The knights were deep in the enjoyments of the banquet, +and in their imaginations as to the impending crusade, and took no +notice of Henry's departure. He found his mother in close conversation +with the old, kindhearted lady of the castle, who welcomed him +pleasantly. The evening was serene, the sun began to decline, and +Henry, who was longing after solitude and was enticed by the golden +distance, which stole through the narrow, deep-arched windows into the +gloomy apartment, easily obtained permission to stroll beyond the +castle. He hastened, his whole soul in a state of excitement, into the +free air. He looked from the height of the old rock down into the woody +valley, through which a little rivulet brawled along, turning several +mills, the noise of which was scarcely audible from the greatness of +the elevation. Then he gazed toward the immeasurable stretch of woods +and mountain-passes, and his restlessness was calmed, the warlike +tumult died away, and there remained behind only a clear, imaginative +longing; He felt the absence of a lute, little as he knew its nature +and effects. The serene spectacle of the glorious evening soothed him +to soft fancies; the blossom of his heart revealed itself momently like +lightning-flashes. He rambled through the wild shrubbery, and clambered +over fragments of rock; when suddenly there arose from a neighboring +valley a tender and impressive song, in a female voice accompanied by +wonderful music. He was sure that it was a lute, and standing full of +admiration he heard the following song in broken German. + + If the weary heart is living + Yet, beneath a foreign sky; + If a pallid Hope is giving + Fitful glimpses to the eye; + Can I still of home be dreaming? + Sorrow's tears adown are streaming, + Till my heart is like to die. + + Could I myrtle-garlands braid thee, + And the cedar's sombre hair! + To the merry dances lead thee, + That the youths and maidens share! + Hadst thou seen in robes the fairest, + Glittering with gems the rarest, + Thy belov'd, so happy there! + + Ardent looks my walk attended, + Suitors lowly bent the knee, + Songs of tenderness ascended + With the evening star to me. + In the cherished there confiding,-- + Faith to woman, love abiding, + Was their burden ceaselessly. + + There, around the crystal fountains + Heaven fondly sinks to rest, + Sighing through the wooded mountains + By its balmy waves caressed; + Where among the pleasure-bowers, + Hidden by the fruits and flowers, + Thousand motley songsters nest. + + Wide those youthful dreams are scattered! + Fatherland lies far away! + Long ago those trees were shattered, + And consumed the castle gray. + Came a savage band in motion + Fearful like the waves of ocean, + And Elysium wasted lay. + + Terribly the flames were gushing + Through the air with sullen roar, + And a brutal throng came rushing + Fiercely mounted to the door. + Sabres rang, and father, brother, + Ne'er again beheld each other,-- + Us away they rudely tore. + + Though my eyes with tears are thronging, + Still, thou distant motherland, + They are turned, how full of longing, + Full of love, toward thy strand! + Thou, O child, alone dost save me + From the thought that anguish gave me, + Life to quench with hardy hand. + +Henry heard the sobbing of a child and a soothing voice. He descended +deeper through the shrubbery, and discovered a pale, languishing girl +sitting beneath an old oak tree. A beautiful child hung crying on her +neck, and she herself was weeping; a lute lay at her side upon the +turf. She seemed a little alarmed when she saw the young stranger, who +was drawing near with a saddened countenance. + +"You have probably heard my song," said she kindly. "Your face seems +familiar to me; let me think. My memory fails me, but the sight of you +awakens in me a strange recollection of joyous days. O! it appears as +if you resembled my brother, who before our disasters was separated +from us and travelled to Persia, to visit a renowned poet there. +Perhaps he yet lives and sadly sings the misfortunes of his sisters. +Would that I yet remembered some of the beautiful songs he left us! He +was noble and kind-hearted, and found his chief happiness in his lute." + +The child, who was ten or twelve years old, looked at the strange youth +attentively, and clung fast to the bosom of the unhappy Zulima. Henry's +heart was penetrated with sympathy. He consoled the songstress with +friendly words, and prayed her to relate to him her history +circumstantially. She seemed not unwilling to do so. Henry seated +himself before her, and listened to her tale, interrupted as it was by +frequent tears. She dwelt principally upon the praises of her +countrymen and fatherland. She portrayed their loftiness of soul, and +their pure, strong susceptibility of life's poetry, and the wonderfully +mysterious charms of nature, She described the romantic beauties of the +fertile regions of Arabia, which lay like happy islands in the midst of +impassable, sandy wastes, refuge places for the oppressed and weary, +like colonies of Paradise,--full of fresh wells, whose streams trilled +over dense meadows and glittering stones, through venerable groves, +filled with every variety of singing birds; regions attractive also in +numerous monuments of memorable past time. + +"You would look with wonder," she said, "upon the many-colored, +distinct, and curious traces and images upon the old stone slabs. They +seem to have been always well known; nor have they been preserved +without a reason. You muse and muse, you conjecture single meanings, +and become more and more curious to arrive at the deep coherence of +these old writings. Their unknown meaning excites unwonted meditation; +and even though you depart without having solved the enigmas, you have +yet made a thousand remarkable discoveries in yourself, which give to +life a new refulgence, and to the mind an ever profitable occupation. +Life, on a soil inhabited in olden time, and once glorious in its +industry, activity, and attachment to noble pursuits, has a peculiar +charm. Nature seems to have become there more human, more rational; a +dim remembrance throws back through the transparent present the images +of the world in marked outline; and thus you enjoy a twofold world, +purged by this very process from the rude and disagreeable, and made +the magic poetry and fable of the mind. Who knows whether also an +indefinable influence of the former inhabitants, now departed, does not +conspire to this end? And perhaps it is this hidden bias, that drives +men from new countries, at a certain period of their awakening, with +such a restless longing for the old home of their race, and that +emboldens them to risk their property and life, for the sake of +possessing these lands." + +After a pause she continued. + +"Believe not what you are told of the cruelties of my countrymen. +Nowhere are captives treated more magnanimously; and even your pilgrims +to Jerusalem were received with hospitality; only they seldom deserved +it. Most of them were worthless men, who distinguished their +pilgrimages by their evil deeds, and who, for that reason, often fell +into the hands of just revenge. How peacefully might the Christian have +visited the holy sepulchre, without being under the necessity of +commencing a terrible and useless war, which embitters everything, +spreads abroad continued misery, and which has separated forever the +land of the morning from Europe! What is there in the name of +possessor? Our rulers reverentially honored the grave of your Holy One, +whom we also consider a divine person; and how beautifully might his +sacred tomb become the cradle of a happy union, the source of an +alliance blessing all forever!" + +Night overtook them during this conversation, darkness approached, and +the moon rose in quiet light from the dark forest. They descended +slowly towards the castle. Henry was full of thought, and his warlike +inspiration had entirely vanished. He observed a strange confusion in +the world; the moon assumed the appearance of a sympathizing spectator, +and raised him above the ruggedness of the earth's surface, which there +seemed so inconsiderable, however wild and insurmountable it might +appear to the wanderer below. Zulima walked silently by his side, hand +in hand with the child. Henry carried the lute. He endeavored to revive +the sinking hope of his companion, to revisit once again her home, +whilst he felt within him an earnest prompting to be her deliverer, +though in what manner he knew not. A strange power seemed to lie in his +simple words, for Zulima felt an unwonted tranquillity, and thanked him +in the most touching manner for his consolation. + +The knights were yet in their cups, and the mother was engaged in +household gossip. Henry had no desire to return to the noisy hall. He +felt weary, and with his mother soon betook himself to the chamber, +that was set apart for them. He told her before he fell asleep, what +had happened, and soon sank into pleasant dreams. The merchants had +also retired betimes, and were early astir. The knights were in deep +sleep, when they started on their journey; but the lady of the house +tenderly took leave of them. Zulima had slept but little; an inward joy +had kept her awake; she made her appearance as they were departing, and +humbly but eagerly assisted the travellers. Before they started, she +brought with many tears her lute to Henry, and touchingly besought him +to take it with him as a remembrance of Zulima. + +"It was my brother's lute," she said, "who gave it to me at our last +parting; it is the only property I have saved. It seemed to please you +yesterday, and you leave me an inestimable gift,--_sweet hope_. Take +this small token of my gratitude, and let it be a pledge, that you will +remember the poor Zulima. We shall certainly see each other again, and +then perhaps I shall be much happier." + +Henry wept. He was unwilling to take the lute, so indispensable to her +happiness. + +"Give me," said he, "the golden hand in your hair ornamented with the +strange characters, unless it be memorial of your parents, sisters, or +brothers, and take in return a veil which my mother will gladly resign +to you." + +She finally yielded to his persuasions; and gave him the band, saying; + +"It is my name in my mother tongue, which I myself in better times +embroidered on this band. Let it be a pleasure for you to gaze upon it, +and to think that it has bound up my hair during a long and sorrowful +period, and has grown pale with its possessor." Henry's mother loosed +the veil and gave it to her, while she embraced her with tears. + + + + + CHAPTER V. + +After a few days' journey they arrived at a small village, situated at +the foot of some sharp hill-tops, interspersed with deep defiles. The +country in other respects was fruitful and pleasant, though the hilly +ridge presented a dead, repulsive appearance. The inn was neat, the +people attentive; and a number of men, partly travellers, partly mere +drinking guests, sat in the room entertaining themselves with various +cheer. + +Our travellers mingled with them, and joined in their conversation. The +attention of the company was particularly directed to an old man +strangely dressed, who sat by a table and answered pleasantly whatever +questions of curiosity were put to him. He had come from foreign lands, +and early that day had been examining the surrounding country. He was +now explaining his business, and the discoveries he had made during the +day. The people here called him a treasure-digger. But he spoke very +modestly of his power and knowledge; yet what he said bore the impress +of quaintness and novelty. He said that he was born in Bohemia. From +his youth he had been very curious to know what might be hidden in the +mountains, whence water poured its visible springs, and where gold, +silver, and precious stones were found, so irresistibly attractive to +man. He had often in the neighboring cloister-chapel beheld their solid +light appended to the pictures and relics, and only wished that they +would speak to him in explanation of their wonderful origin. He had +indeed sometimes heard that they came from far distant regions; but had +always wondered why such treasures and jewels might not also be found +in his own land. The mountains would not be so extensive and lofty, and +so closely guarded, without some purpose; he also imagined that he had +found shining and glimmering stones upon them. He had climbed about +industriously among the clefts and caves, and had peered into their +antiquated halls and arches with unspeakable pleasure. + +At length he met a traveller who told him that he must become a miner +in order to satisfy his curiosity. There were miners in Bohemia, and he +needed only descend the river for ten or twelve days, to Eula, where to +gratify his desire he had only to mention it. He waited for no further +confirmation of this, but set off on the next day. After a fatiguing +journey of several days he reached Eula. + +"I cannot describe how gloriously I felt, when I saw from the hill the +piles of rock overgrown with thickets, upon which stood the board huts, +and watched the smoke-wreaths rising over the forest from the valley +below. A distant murmur increased my eager anticipations. With +incredible curiosity and full of silent reverence, I soon stood +over a steep descent, which led precipitously down into the mountain, +from among the huts. I hastened towards the valley, and soon met +some men dressed in black, with lamps in their hands, whom I not +improperly took to be miners, and to whom I told my desire with anxious +timidity. They listened to me kindly, and told me that I must go to the +smelting-houses and inquire for the overseer, who supplied the place of +director and master, and who would tell me whether I could be admitted. +They thought my request would be granted, and told me that 'good luck' +was the customary form of greeting the overseer. Full of joyous +expectations I pursued my way, constantly repeating to myself the new +and significant greeting. I found a venerable old man who received me +with kindness, and after telling him my history and my warm desire to +be instructed in his rare and mysterious art, he readily promised to +fulfil my wishes. He seemed pleased with me, and entertained me in his +own house. I could scarcely wait for the moment when I should descend +the pit, and behold myself in the long-coveted apparel. That very +evening he brought me a mining-dress, and explained to me the use of +some tools which were kept in a chamber. At evening the miners came to +him, and not a word of their conversation did I lose, however foreign +and unintelligible the chief part of their language appeared to me. The +little, however, that I seemed to understand heightened the ardor of my +curiosity, and busied me at night with strange dreams. I awoke early, +and found myself at the house of my new host, where the miners were +gradually collecting to receive orders. A little side-room was fitted +up as a chapel. A monk appeared and read mass, and afterwards +pronounced a solemn prayer, in which he invoked Heaven to give the +miners its holy protection, to assist them in their dangerous labors, +to defend them from the temptations and snares of evil spirits, and to +grant them abundant ore. I never prayed more fervently, and never +realized so vividly the deep significance of the mass. My companions +appeared to me like heroes of the lower earth, who were obliged to +encounter a thousand perils, but possessing an enviable fortune in +their precious knowledge, and prepared, by grave and silent intercourse +with the primeval children of nature, in their sombre, mystic chambers, +for the reception of heavenly gifts, and for a blessed elevation above +the world and its troubles. When the service was concluded, the +overseer, giving me a lamp and a small wooden crucifix, accompanied me +to the shaft, as we are accustomed to call the steep entrance into the +subterraneous abodes. He taught me the method of descent, acquainted me +with the necessary precautions, as well as with the names of the +various objects and divisions. He led the way, and slid down a round +beam, grasping with one hand a rope, which was knotted to a transverse +bar, and with the other his lamp. I followed his example, and in this +manner we soon reached a considerable depth. I have seldom felt so +solemnly; and the distant light glimmered like a happy star, pointing +out the path to the secret treasures of nature. We came below to a +labyrinth of paths. My kind master was ever ready to answer my +inquisitive questions, and to teach me concerning his art. The roaring +of the water, the distance from the inhabited surface, the darkness and +intricacy of the paths, and the distant hum of the working miners, +delighted me extremely, and I joyfully felt myself in full possession +of all that for which I had most ardently sighed. This complete +satisfaction of our innate taste, this wonderful delight in things +which perhaps have an intimate relation to our secret being, and in +occupations for which one is destined from the cradle, cannot be +explained or described. Perhaps they might appear to every one else +common, insignificant, and unpleasant; but they seemed to me necessary +as air to the lungs, or food to the stomach. My good master was pleased +at my inward delight, and promised me that, with such zeal and +attention, I should advance rapidly and become an able miner. With what +reverence did I behold for the first time in my life, on the sixteenth +of March, more than five-and-forty years ago, the king of metals in +small, delicate leaves between the fissures of the rocks! It seemed as +if, having been doomed here to close captivity, it glittered kindly +towards, the miner, who with so many dangers and labors breaks a way to +it through its strong prison-walls, that he may remove it to the light +of day, and exalt it to the honor of royal crowns, vessels, and holy +relics, and to dominion over the world in the shape of genuine coin, +adorned with emblems, cherished by all. From that time I remained at +Eula, and advanced gradually from the business of removing the hewn +pieces of ore in baskets, to the degree of hewer, who is the real +miner, and who performs the observations upon the stone." + +The old man paused a moment in his narration, and drank, while the +attentive listeners pledged his good luck, as they drained their cups. +Henry was delighted with the old man's discourse, and was desirous to +hear still more from him. + +His listeners related descriptions of the dangers and strangeness of +the miner's life, and had many marvels to tell, at which the old man +often smiled, and endeavored to correct their odd representations. + +After a while Henry said, "you must have experienced much that is +wonderful since then, I hope you have never repented your selection of +a mode of life. Be kind enough to tell us how you have employed +yourself since, and why you are now travelling. You must have looked +farther into the world, and I am certain that you are now something +more than a common miner." + +"I take great pleasure," said the old man, "in the recollection of past +times, in which I find cause to bless the divine mercy and goodness. +Fate has led me through a joyful and serene life, and not a day has +passed, at the close of which I could not retire to rest with a +thankful heart. I have always been fortunate in my undertakings, and +our common Father in Heaven has guarded me from evil, and brought me to +a gray old age with honor. Next to him I must thank my old master for +all these blessings, who long since was gathered to his fathers, and of +whom I never can think without tears. He was a man of the old school, +after God's own heart. He was gifted with deep penetration, yet +childlike and humble in every action. Through his means mining has +become in high repute, and has helped the duke of Bohemia to immense +treasures. The whole region has become by its influence settled and +prosperous, and is now a blooming land. All the miners honored him as a +father, and as long as Eula stands, his name will be mentioned with +emotion and gratitude. His name was Werner, and he was a Lausatian by +birth. His only daughter was a mere child when I came to his house. My +industry, faithfulness, and devoted attachment daily won his affection. +He gave me his name and adopted me as his son. The little girl grew to +be an open-hearted, merry creature, whose countenance was as +beautifully clear and pure as her own mind. The old man, when he saw +that she was attached to me, that I loved to play with her, and that I +could never cease gazing at her eyes, which were as blue and open as +heaven and glittering as crystal, often told me that when I became a +worthy miner, he would not refuse her to me. He kept his word. The day +I became hewer he laid his hands upon us, blessed us as bride and +bridegroom, and a few weeks afterward I called her my wife. Early on +that day, although a mere apprentice, I struck upon a rich vein. The +Duke sent me a golden chain, with his likeness engraven on a large +medallion, and promised me the office of my father-in-law. How happy +was I when on my marriage day I hung the chain around the neck of my +bride, and the eyes of all were turned upon her. Our old father lived +to see some merry grand-children, and his declining years were more +joyous than he had ever anticipated. With joy could he finish his task, +and fare forth from the dark mine of this world, to rest in peace, and +await the final day. + +"Sir," said the old man, as he turned his gaze upon Henry, and wiped +some tears from his eyes, "it must be that mining is blessed by God; +for there is no art, which renders those who are occupied in it happier +and nobler, which awakens a deeper faith in divine wisdom and guidance, +or which preserves the innocence and childlike simplicity of the heart +more freshly. Poor is the miner born, and poor he departs again. He is +satisfied with knowing where metallic riches are found, and with +bringing them to light; but their dazzling glare has no power over his +simple heart. Untouched by the perilous delirium, he is more pleased in +examining their wonderful formation, and the peculiarities of their +origin and primitive situation, than in calling himself their +possessor. When changed into property, they have no longer any charm +for him, and he prefers to seek them amid a thousand dangers and +travails, in the fastnesses of the earth, rather than to follow their +vocation in the world, or aspire after them on the earth's surface, +with cunning and deceitful arts. These severe labors keep his heart +fresh and his mind strong; he enjoys his scanty pay with inward +thankfulness, and comes forth every day from the dark tombs of his +calling, with new-born enjoyment of life. He now appreciates the +pleasure of light and of rest, the charms of the free air and prospect; +his food and drink are right refreshing to one, who enjoys them as +devoutly as if at the Lord's Supper; and with what a warm and tender +heart he joins his friends, or embraces his wife and children, and +thankfully shares the delights of heart-felt intercourse." + +"His lonely occupation cuts off a great part of his life from day and +the society of man. Still he does not harden himself in dull +indifference as to these deep-meaning matters of the upper world; and +he retains a childlike simplicity, which recognises the interior +essence, and the manifold, primitive energies of all things. Nature +will never be the possession of any single individual. In the form of +property it becomes a terrible poison, which destroys rest, excites the +ruinous desire of drawing everything within the reach of its possessor, +and carries with it a train of wild passions and endless sorrows. Thus +it undermines secretly the ground of the owner, buries him in the abyss +which breaks beneath him, and so passes into the hands of another, thus +gradually satisfying its tendency to belong to all. + +"How quietly, on the contrary, the poor miner labors in his deep +solitudes, far from the restless turmoil of day, animated solely by a +thirst for knowledge and a love of harmony. In his solitude he tenderly +thinks of his friends and family, and his sense of their value and +relationship is continually renewed. His calling teaches indefatigable +patience, and forbids his attention to be diverted by useless thoughts. +He deals with a strange, hard, and unwieldly power, which will yield +only to persevering industry and continual care. But what a glorious +flower blooms for him in these awful depths,--a firm confidence in his +heavenly Father, whose hand and care are every day visible to him in +signs not easily mistaken! How often have I sat down, and by the light +of my lamp gazed upon the plain crucifix with the most heart-felt +devotion! Then for the first time I clearly understood the holy meaning +of this mysterious image, and struck upon a heart-vein of the richest +golden ore, and which has yielded me an everlasting reward." + +After a pause the old man continued:-- + +"Truly must he have been divine, who first taught men the noble art of +mining, and who has hidden in the bosom of the rock this sober emblem +of human life. In one place the veins are large, easily broken, but +poor; in another a wretched and insignificant cleft of rock confines +it; and here the best ores are to be found. It often splits before the +miner's face into a thousand atoms, but the patient one is not +terrified; he quietly pursues his course, and soon sees his zeal +rewarded, whilst working it open in a new and more promising direction. + +"A specious lump often entices him from the true direction; but he soon +discovers that the way is false, and breaks his way by main strength +across the grain of the rock, until he has found the true path that +leads to the ore. How thoroughly acquainted does the miner here become +with all the humors of chance, and how assured that energy and +constancy are the only sure means of overcoming them and of raising the +hidden treasure." + +"Certainly you are not without cheering songs," said Henry. "I should +think that your calling would involuntarily inspire you with music, and +that songs would be your welcome companions." + +"There you have spoken the truth," said the old man. "The song and the +guitar belong to the miner's life, and no occupation can retain their +charm with more zest than ours. Music and dancing are the pleasures of +the miner; like a joyful prayer are they, and the remembrance and hope +of them help to lighten weary labor and shorten long solitude. + +"If you would like it now, I will give you a song for your +entertainment, which was a favorite in my youth. + + "Who fathoms her recesses, + Is monarch of the sphere,-- + Forgetting all distresses, + Within her bosom here. + + "Of all her granite piling + The secret make he knows, + And down amid her toiling + Unweariedly he goes. + + "He is unto her plighted, + And tenderly allied,-- + Becomes by her delighted, + As if she were his bride. + + "New love each day is burning + For her within his breast, + No toil or trouble shunning, + She leaveth him no rest. + + "To him her voice is swelling + In solemn, friendly rhyme, + The mighty stories telling + Of long-evanished time. + + "The Fore-world's holy breezes + Around his temples play, + And caverned night releases + To him a quenchless ray. + + "On every side he greeteth + A long familiar land, + And willingly she meeteth + The labors of his hand. + + "For helpful waves are flowing + Along his mountain course, + And rocky holds are showing + Their treasures' secret source. + + "Toward his monarch's palace + He guides the golden stream, + And diadem and chalice + With noble jewels gleam. + + "Though faithfully his treasure + He renders to the king, + He liveth poor with pleasure, + And makes no questioning. + + "And though beneath him daily + They fight for gold and gain, + Above here let him gaily + The lord of earth remain." + +The song pleased Henry exceedingly, and he begged the old man to sing +another. He was willing to gratify him, saying, "I know one song that +is very strange, and of whose origin we ourselves are ignorant. A +travelling miner, who came to us from a distance, and who was a curious +diviner with a wand, brought it with him. The song became a favorite +because it was so peculiar,--nearly as dark and obscure as the music +itself; but on that very account singularly attractive, and like a +dream between sleeping and waking. + + "I know where is a castle strong, + With stately king in silence reigning, + Attended by a wondrous throng, + Yet deep within its walls remaining. + His pleasure-hall is far aloof, + With viewless warders round it gliding, + And only streams familiar sliding + Toward him from the sparry roof. + + "Of what they see with lustrous eyes, + Where all the stars in light are dwelling, + They faithfully the king apprize, + And never are they tired of telling. + He bathes himself within their flood, + So daintily his members washing, + And all his light again is flashing + Throughout his mother's[2] paly blood. + + "His castle old and marvellous, + From seas unfathomed o'er him closing, + Stood firm, and ever standeth thus, + Escape to upper air opposing; + An inner spell in secret thrall + The vassals of the realm is holding, + And clouds, like triumph-flags unfolding, + Are gathered round the rocky wall. + + "Lo, an innumerable race + Before the barred portals lying; + And each the trusty servant plays, + The ears of men so blandly plying. + So men are lured the king to gain, + Divining not that they are captured; + But thus by specious longing raptured, + Forget the hidden cause of pain. + + "But few are cunning and awake, + Nor ever for his treasures pining; + And these assiduous efforts make, + The ancient castle undermining. + The mighty spell's primeval tie + True insight's hand alone can sever; + If so the Inmost opens ever, + The dawn of freedom's day is nigh. + + "To toil the firmest wall is sand, + To courage no abyss unsounded; + Who trusteth in his heart and hand, + Seeks for the king with zeal unbounded. + He brings him from his secret hill, + The spirit foes by spirits quelling, + Masters the torrents madly swelling, + And makes them follow at his will. + + "The more the king appears in sight, + And freely round the earth is flowing, + The more diminishes his might, + The more the free in number growing. + At length dissolves that olden spell,-- + And through the castle void careering, + Us homeward is the ocean bearing + Upon its gentle, azure swell." + +Just as the old man ended, it struck Henry that he had somewhere heard +that song. He asked him to repeat it and wrote it down. The old man +then departed, and the merchants conversed with the other guests on the +pleasures and hardships of mining. One said "I don't believe the old +man is here without some object. He has been climbing to-day among the +hills, and has doubtless discovered good signs. We will ask him when he +comes in again." + +"See here," said another, "we might ask him to hunt up a well for our +village. Good water is far off, and a well would be right welcome to +us." + +"It occurs to me," said a third, "that I might ask him to take with him +one of my sons, who has already filled the house with stones. The +youngster would certainly make an able miner, and the old man seems +honest, and one who would bring him up in the way he should go." + +The merchants were thinking whether they might not establish, by aid of +the miner, a profitable trade with Bohemia, and procure metals thence +at low prices. The old man entered the room again, and all wished to +make use of his acquaintance, when he began to say:-- + +"How dull and depressing is this narrow room! The moon is without there +in all her glory, and I have a great desire to take a walk. I saw +to-day some remarkable caves in this neighborhood. Perhaps some of you +would like to go with me; and if we take lights, we shall be able to +view them without any difficulty." + +The inhabitants of the village were already acquainted with the +existence of these caves, but no one had as yet dared to enter them. On +the contrary they were deceived by frightful traditions of dragons and +other monsters, which were said to dwell therein. Some went so far as +to say that they had seen them, and insisted that the bones of men who +had been robbed, and of animals which had been devoured, were to be +found at the entrances of these caves. Others thought that a ghost +haunted them, for they had often seen from a distance a strange human +form there, and songs had been heard thence at night. + +The old man was rather incredulous upon the point, and laughingly +assured them that they could visit the caves with safety under the +protection of a miner, since such monsters must shun him; and as for a +singing spirit, that must certainly be a beneficent one. Curiosity +rendered many courageous enough to accept his proposition. Henry wished +also to accompany him, and his mother at length yielded to his +entreaties, and the persuasion and promises of the old man, who agreed +to have a special eye to his safety. The merchants promised to do the +same. Long sticks of pitch-pine were collected for torches; part of the +company provided themselves plentifully with ladders, poles, ropes, and +all sorts of defensive weapons, and thus finally they started for the +neighboring hills. The old man led the way with Henry and the +merchants. The boor had brought that inquisitive son of his, who full +of joy held a torch and pointed out the way to the caves. The evening +was clear and warm. The moon shone mildly over the hills, prompting +strange dreams in all creatures. Itself lay like a dream of the sun, +above the introverted world of visions, and restored nature, now living +in its infinite phases, back to that fabulous olden time, when every +bud yet slumbered by itself, lonely and unquickened, longing in vain to +expand the dark fulness of its immeasurable existence. The evening's +tale mirrored itself in Henry's mind. It seemed as if the world lay +disclosed within him, showing him as a friendly visitor all her hidden +treasures and beauties. So clearly was the great yet simple apparition +revealed to him. Nature seemed incomprehensible, only because the near +and the true loomed around man with such a manifold lavishment of +expression. The words of the old man had opened a secret door. He saw a +little dwelling built close to a lofty minster, from whose stone +pavement arose the solemn foreworld, while the clear, joyous future, in +the form of golden cherubs, floated from the spire towards it with +songs. Loud swelled the notes in their silvery chanting, as all +creatures were entering at the wide gate, each audibly expressing in a +simple prayer and proper tongue their interior nature. How strange it +seemed that this clear view, so necessary to his existence, had been so +long unknown to him. He now reviewed at a glance all his relations to +the wide world around him. He felt what he had become, and was to +become, through its influence, and comprehended all the peculiar +conceptions and presages, which he had already often stumbled upon in +contemplation. The story which the merchants had related of the young +man, who studied nature so assiduously, and who became the son-in-law +of the king, recurred to his mind, with a thousand other recollections +of his past life, weaving themselves involuntarily on his part into a +magic thread. While Henry was thus occupied in his inward musings, the +company had approached the cave. The entrance was low, and the old man +took a torch and first clambered over some fragments of rock. A +perceptible current of air blew towards them, and the old man assured +them that they could follow with confidence. The most timorous brought +up the rear, holding their weapons in readiness. Henry and the +merchants were behind the old man, and the boy walked merrily at his +side. The path, at first narrow, emerged into a spacious and lofty +cave, which the gleam of the torches could not fully illumine. Some +openings, however, were seen in the rocky wall opposite. The ground was +soft and quite even; the walls and ceiling were also neither rough nor +irregular. But the innumerable bones and teeth which covered the +ground, chiefly attracted the attention of all. Many were in a full +state of preservation, some bore marks of decay, while some projecting +here and there from the walls seemed petrified. Most of them were of +extraordinary size and strength. The old man was much gratified at +seeing these relics of gray antiquity; they added little courage, +however, to the farmers, who considered them downright evidence, that +beasts of prey were near at hand, although the old man pointed out the +signs upon them of a remote antiquity, and asked them whether they had +ever heard of destruction among their flocks, or the seizure of men in +the neighborhood, and whether they thought these relics the bones of +known beasts or men. The old man wished to penetrate farther into the +cave, but the farmers deemed it advisable to retreat to its mouth, and +there await his return. Henry, the merchants, and the boy remained with +him, having provided themselves with ropes and torches. They soon +reached a second cave, where the old man did not forget to mark the +path by which they entered, by a figure of bones which he erected +before the mouth. This cave resembled the other, and was equally full +of the remains of animals. Henry's mind was affected by wonder and +awe; he felt as if passing through the outer-court of the central +earth-palace. Heaven and earth lay at once far distant from him; these +dark and vast halls seemed parts of some strange subterraneous kingdom. +"May it not be possible," thought he to himself, "that beneath our feet +there moves by itself a world in mighty life, that strange productions +derive their being from the bowels of the earth, which sends forth the +internal heat of its dark bosom into gigantic and preternatural shapes? +Might not these awful strangers have been driven forth once by the +piercing cold, and appeared amongst us, while perhaps at the same time +heavenly guests, living, speaking energies of the stars, were visible +above our heads? Are these bones the remains of their wandering upon +the surface, or of their flight into the deep?" + +Suddenly the old man called them to him, and showed them the fresh +track of a human foot upon the ground. They could discover no more, so +that the old man concluded they might follow the track without fear of +meeting robbers. They were about to do this, when suddenly, as from a +great depth beneath their feet, a distinct strain arose. They listened +attentively, with not a little astonishment. + + "In the vale I gladly linger, + Smiling in the dusky night, + For to me with rosy finger + Proffers Love his cup of light. + + "With its dew my spirit sunken + Wafted is toward the skies, + And I stand in this life drunken + At the gate of paradise. + + "Lulled in blessed contemplation, + Vexes me no petty smart; + O, the queen of all creation + Gives to me her faithful heart. + + "Many years of tearful sorrows + Glorified this common clay,-- + Thence a graven form it borrows, + Life securing it for aye. + + "Here the lapse of days evanished + But a moment seems to me; + Backward would I turn, if banished, + Gazing hither gratefully." + +All were most agreeably surprised and eagerly wished to discover the +singer. + +After some search, they found in an angle of the right wall a deep +sunken path, to which the footsteps seemed to lead them. Soon they +thought they perceived a light, which became clearer as they +approached. A new vault of greater extent than those they had yet +passed opened before them, in the further extremity of which they saw a +human form sitting by a lamp, with a great book before him upon a slab, +in which he appeared to be reading. + +The figure turned towards them, arose, and came forward. He was a man +whose age it were impossible to guess. He seemed neither old nor young, +and no traces of time were discoverable, except in his smooth silvery +hair, which was parted on his forehead. An indescribable air of +serenity dwelt in his eyes, as if he were looking down from a clear +mountain into an infinite spring. + +He had sandals upon his feet, and wore no other dress except a large +mantle cast around him, which added dignity to his noble form. He +expressed no surprise at their unexpected arrival, and greeted them as +old acquaintances and expected guests. + +"It is pleasant indeed," said he, "that you have sought me. You are the +first friends I have ever seen, though I have dwelt here a long season. +It seems that men are beginning to examine our spacious and wonderful +mansion a little more closely." + +The old man answered, "We did not expect to find here so friendly a +host. We had been told of wild beasts and spectres, but we now find +ourselves most agreeably deceived. If we have disturbed your devotions +or deep meditations, pardon it to our curiosity." + +"Can any sight be more delightful," said the unknown, "than the joyous +and speaking countenance of man? Think not that I am a misanthrope, +because you find me in this solitude. I have not shunned the world, but +have only sought a retirement, where I could apply myself to my +meditations undisturbed." + +"Have you never grieved for your own desolation, and do not hours +sometimes come, when you are fearful, and long to hear a human voice?" + +"Now, no more. There was a time in my youth, when a highly wrought +imagination induced me to become a hermit. Dark forebodings busied my +youthful fancy. I thought to find in solitude full nourishment for my +heart. The fountain of my inner life seemed inexhaustible. But I soon +learned that fulness of experience must be added to it, that a young +heart cannot dwell alone; nay, that man, by manifold intercourse with +his race, reaches a certain self-subsisting independence." + +"I myself believe," said the old man, "that there is a certain natural +impulse to every mode of life; and that perhaps the experiences of +increasing age lead of themselves to a withdrawal from human society. +It then seems as if society were devoted to activity as much for gain +as for maintenance. It is powerfully impelled by a great hope, by a +common object, and children and the aged seem not at home. Helplessness +and ignorance exclude the first from it, while the latter, with every +hope fulfilled, every object attained, and new hopes and objects no +longer woven into their circle, turn back into themselves, and find +enough employment in preparing for a higher existence. But more +peculiar causes seem to have separated you entirely from men, and +influenced you to resign all the comforts of society. Methinks that the +tension of your mind must often relax, and give place to the most +disagreeable emotions." + +"I have indeed felt that; but have learned to avoid it by a strict +regularity in my mode of living. For this purpose I endeavor by +exercise to preserve my health, and then there is no danger. Every day +I walk for several hours and enjoy the light and air as much as +possible; or I remain in these halls, and busy myself at certain times +with basket-braiding and carving. I exchange my ware at distant places +for provisions; I have brought many books with me, and thus time passes +like a moment. In these places I have acquaintances who know where I +live, and from whom I learn what is going on in the world. These will +bury me when I die, and take away my books." + +He led them nearer his seat, which was against the wall of the cave. +They noticed several books and a guitar lying upon the ground, and upon +the wall hung a complete suit of armor apparently quite costly. The +table consisted of five great stone slabs, put together in the form of +a box. Upon the upper one were two sculptured male and female figures +large as life, holding a garland of lilies and roses. Upon the side was +inscribed, + +"Frederick and Mary of Hohenzollern here returned to their native +dust." + +The hermit inquired of his guests concerning their fatherland, and how +they had journeyed into these regions. He was kind and communicative, +and displayed great knowledge of the world. + +The old man said, "I see you have been a warrior; the armor betrays +you." + +"The dangers and vicissitudes of war, the deep, poetic spirit connected +with an armed host, tore me from my youthful solitude and determined +the destiny of my life. Perhaps the long tumult, the innumerable events +among which I have dwelt, awakened in me a yet stronger inclination for +solitude, where numberless recollections make pleasant companions; and +this the more, in proportion as our view of them is varied; a view +which now first discovers their true connexion, their significance, and +their occult tendency. The peculiar sense for the study of man's +history develops itself but tardily, and rather through the silent +influence of memory than by the more forcible impressions of the +present. The nearest events seem but loosely connected, yet they +sympathize so much the more curiously with the remote. And it is only +when one is able to comprehend in one view a lengthened series, neither +interpreting too literally, nor confounding the proper method with +capricious fancies, that he detects the secret chain which binds the +past to the future, and learns to rear the fabric of history from hope +and memory. Yet only he can succeed in discovering the simple laws of +history, to whom the whole past is present. We arrive only at +incomplete and cumbrous formulas, and are well content to find for +ourselves an available prescription, that may sufficiently expound the +riddle of our own short lives. But I can truly say that each rigorous +view of the events of life causes us deep and inexhaustible pleasure, +and raises us, of all speculations, the highest above earthly evils. +Youth reads history only from curiosity, as it cons a story; to +maturity it becomes a divinely consoling and edifying companion, +preparing it gently by its wise discourses for a higher and more +embracing sphere of action, and acquainting it through intelligible +images with the unknown world. The church is the dwelling-house of +history, the church-yard its symbolic flower-garden. History should +only be written by old and pious men, whose own is drawing to its +close, and who have nothing more to hope for, but transplantation to +the garden. Their descriptions will be neither obscure nor dull; on the +contrary a ray from the spire will exhibit everything in the most exact +and beautiful light, and the Holy Spirit will hover above these rarely +stirred waters." + +"How true and obvious are your remarks," said the old man. "We ought +certainly to spend more labor in faithfully recording the occurrences +of our own times, and should leave our record as a devout bequest for +posterity. There are a thousand remoter matters to which care and labor +are devoted, while we trouble ourselves little with the nearer and +weightier, the occurrences of our lives, and those of our relatives and +generation, whose fleeting destiny we have comprehended in the idea of +a Providence. We heedlessly suffer all traces of these to escape from +our memories. Like consecrated relics, all facts of the past will be +sought for by a wiser future, not indifferent to the biography of the +most insignificant man, since in his life the lives of all his greater +contemporaries will be more or less reflected." + +"It is also much to be regretted," said the count of Hohenzollern, +"that even the few, who have undertaken to report the deeds and events +of their times, have not carried out their designs, nor striven to give +order and completeness to their observations; but have proceeded almost +wholly at random in the choice and collection of their facts. Any one +may easily see that he only can describe plainly and perfectly, that +which he knows exactly, whose origin and consequences, object and use, +are present to his mind; for otherwise there will be no description, +but a bewildering mixture of imperfect statements. Let a child describe +an engine, or a farmer a ship, and no one can gain anything useful or +instructive from their words; and so is it with most historians, who +are perhaps able enough even to be wearisome in relating and collecting +facts; but who forget what is most note-worthy, what first makes +history historical, and connects so many varied events in an agreeable +and instructive whole. If I understand all this rightly, it appears to +me necessary that a historian should be also a poet; for poets alone +know the art of skilfully combining events. In their tales and fables I +have often noticed, with silent pleasure, a tender sympathy with the +mysterious spirit of life. There is more truth in their romances than +in learned chronicles. Though the heroes and their fates are +inventions, yet the spirit in which they are composed is true and +natural. In some degree it matters not whether those persons, in whose +fates we trace our own, ever did or did not exist. We seek to +contemplate the great and simple spirit of an age's phenomena; and if +this wish be gratified, we are not cumbered about the certainty of the +existence of their external forms."[See Note II.] + +"I have also been much attached to the poets on that account," said the +old man. "Life and the world have become through them more clear and +perceptible to me. It has appeared to me that they must be in alliance +with the acute spirits of light, which penetrate and divide all +natures, and spread over each a peculiar, softly tinted veil. By their +songs I felt my own nature gently developed, and it could move, as it +were, more freely, enjoy its social disposition and desires, poise with +silent pleasure its limbs against each other, and in various forms +excite delight a thousand-fold." + +"Were you so happy in your country as to have some poets?" asked the +hermit. + +"There have been a few with us at times; but travelling seemed their +chief pleasure, and therefore they scarcely ever remained long with us. +But during my wanderings in Illyria, Saxony, and Sweden, I have met +some, the remembrance of whom is ever pleasant." + +"You have, travelled far, and doubtless must have seen much during your +life, that is wonderful." + +"Our art almost compels us to look industriously around the world, and +it is as if the miner were driven by a subterraneous fire. One mountain +sends him to another. He never ceases his scrutiny, and during his +whole life is gaining knowledge from that wonderful architecture, which +has so curiously floored and wainscotted the earth under our feet. Our +art is very ancient and extended. It may indeed, like our race, have +migrated with the sun from the East toward the West, from the middle to +the extremities. It has been obliged everywhere to combat with other +difficulties; and as necessity continually urges the human spirit to +wise inventions, so the miner can increase his knowledge and ability, +and enrich his home with youthful experience." + +"You are well nigh inverted astrologers," said the hermit; "as they +ceaselessly regard the sky, wandering through its immeasurable spaces, +so do you turn your gaze to the earth, exploring its construction. +Astrologers study the forces and influences of the stars, while you are +discovering the forces of rocks and mountains, and the manifold +properties of earth and stone strata. To them the higher world is a +book of futurity; to you the earth is a memorial of the primeval +world." + +"This connexion is not without its meaning," said the old man; "these +shining prophets play perhaps a chief part in that old history of the +wonderful creation. Men perhaps in the course of time will learn to +understand them better, and to explain them by their operations, and +inversely. Perhaps also the great mountain-chains exhibit the traces of +their former ways, and perhaps they desired to support themselves +without foreign aid, to take their own way to Heaven. Many raised +themselves boldly enough that they might become stars, and therefore +must now be deprived of the fair green vesture of the lower regions. +They have therefore gained nothing, except the power of influencing the +weather for their fathers, and of becoming prophets for the lower +world, which now they protect, and now deluge with tempests." + +"Since I have dwelt in this cave," the hermit answered, "I have been +accustomed to reflect more on ancient times. I cannot describe how +attractive such meditations are, and I can imagine the love which a +miner must cherish for his trade. When I look upon these strange old +bones, which are collected in such great numbers here; when I picture +to myself the savage period when those strange and monstrous beasts +crowded in dense bands into these caves, driven thither perhaps by fear +and terror, and finding here their death; when again I go back to the +times when these caves were formed, and wide-spread floods covered the +land; then I seem to myself like a dream of futurity; like a child of +eternal peace. How quiet and peaceful, how mild and dear is out present +nature, when compared with violent and gigantic times! The mightiest +tempests, the most terrible earthquakes of our day, are but weak echoes +of the throes of that first birth. Perhaps also the animal and +vegetable kingdoms, and even the men who then existed, if any were +found on the different islands of the ocean, were of firmer and ruder +organization; at least we should not then be obliged to accuse the +traditions of a giant race of being mere poetic fancies." + +"It is pleasant," said the old man, "to notice the gradual pacification +of nature. A concord ever becoming deeper, a more friendly intercourse, +reciprocal aid and encouragement, seem gradually to have been formed; +and we can look forward continually to better times. It may perhaps be +possible, that here and there a little of the old leaven is fermenting, +and that still more violent convulsions are to follow; yet these mighty +struggles for a free and harmonious existence are visible; and in this +spirit will every convulsion pass over and draw nearer to the great +goal. It may be that nature is no longer so fertile, that at present no +metals or precious stones, rocks or mountains are springing into +existence, that plants and animals do not increase to such an +astonishing size and strength; but the more that physical powers are +exhausted, the more have plastic, ennobling, and social powers +increased. The mind has become more susceptible and tender, the fancy +more varied and symbolical, the hand more free and artistic. Nature +approaches man; and if she were once an uncouthly teeming rock, then is +she now a quietly thriving plant, a silent human artist And of what +service would be the multiplication of these treasures, of which there +are now enough for the most distant age? How small is the space I have +surveyed; and yet what mighty stores have I at a single glance +discovered, the use of which is left for future generations! What +riches are enclosed in the northern mountains, what favorable signs I +discovered throughout my native land, in Hungary, at the foot of the +Carpathian hills, and in the rocky vales of Tyrol, Austria, and +Bavaria. I might have been a rich man, if I had taken with me what I +might only have picked up and broken off. In many places I saw myself +as in a magic garden. On every side costly and skilfully framed metals +met my sight. From the beautiful tresses and branches of silver hung +glittering, ruby-red, transparent fruits; and the heavy-laden shrubs, +stood upon crystal ground of inimitable workmanship. One can scarcely +trust his senses in these wonderful regions, and can never grow weary +of rambling through these charming solitudes, or of gloating over their +jewels. I have seen much that is wonderful during my present journey, +and certainly in other lands the earth is equally plentiful and +fruitful." + +"When," said the unknown, "one remembers the treasures which are hidden +in the East, he cannot doubt what you remark; and have not distant +India, Africa, and Spain been distinguished even from antiquity, by the +richness of their soil? Though a soldier is not apt to take very exact +notice of the veins and the clefts of mountains, yet at times I have +reflected upon these shining tracts of land, which, like rare birds, +indicate an unexpected bloom and fruit. How little did I imagine, when +I passed these dark dwellings joyously by the light of day, that I +should ever finish my life in the bosom of a mountain! My love carried +me proudly above the surface of the earth, and I hoped in later years +to fall asleep in her embrace. The war having ended, I returned home, +full of glad expectations of a refreshing harvest. But the spirit of +the war seemed to have become the spirit of my fortune. My Maria had +borne me two children in the East. They were the joy of our existence. +The voyage and the rough air of the West destroyed their bloom; they +were buried a few days after my arrival in Europe. Sorrowfully I +carried my disconsolate wife to our home. A silent grief weakened the +thread which bound her to life. During a journey which I was obliged to +take, and on which, as was her wont, she accompanied me, she gently but +suddenly expired in my arms. It was near this place, where her earthly +pilgrimage was finished. My resolution was taken in a moment; I found, +what I had never expected; a heavenly illumination came over me; and +from the day when I buried her here with my own hands, a divine hand +freed my heart from all sorrow. Since then I have caused this monument +to be erected. An event often seems to be endings when in fact it is +beginning; and thus has it been with my life. May God grant you an old +age as happy, and a spirit as quiet as mine." + +Henry and the merchants had listened attentively to the conversation; +and the first particularly was conscious of new developments in his +prophetic soul. Many words, many thoughts, fell like quickening seeds +into his breast, and soon drew him from the narrow circle of his youth +to the heights of the world. The hours just passed lay behind him like +long-revolving years; and it seemed as if he had always thought and +felt as now. + +The hermit showed him his books. They consisted of old histories and +poems. Henry turned over the leaves of these huge and beautifully +illuminated works, and his curiosity was strongly excited by the short +lines of the verses, the titles, some of the passages, and the +beautiful pictures which appeared here and there, like embodied words, +to assist the imagination of the reader. The Hermit observed his inward +gratification and explained these singular pictures. All the varied +scenes of life were represented among them. Battles, funereal trains, +marriage ceremonies, shipwrecks, caves, and palaces, kings, heroes, +priests, men in singular costume, strange beasts, were delineated in +different alternations and connexions. Henry could not sate himself +with gazing at them, and wished nothing more than to remain with the +hermit, who irresistibly attracted him, and to be instructed by him in +these books. In the mean time the old man asked whether there were any +more caves; and the hermit told him, that there were some extensive +ones near, to which he would accompany him. The old man was ready; and +the hermit, who observed Henry's interest in the books, induced him to +remain, and to examine them more closely during their absence. Henry +was glad to stay where the books were, and thanked the hermit heartily +for his permission to do so. He turned over their leaves with +indescribable pleasure. At last a book fell into his hands, written in +a foreign tongue, which appeared to him somewhat like Latin or Italian. +He longed greatly to know the language, for the book pleased him +greatly, though he did not understand a syllable of it. It had no +title; but after a little search he found some engravings. They seemed +strangely familiar to him; and on examination, he discovered his own +form quite discernible among the figures. He was terrified, and thought +that he must be dreaming; but after having examined them again and +again, he could no longer doubt their perfect resemblance. He could +hardly trust his senses, when in one of the pictures he discovered the +cave, the hermit, and the old man by his side. By degrees he found +among the pictures the girl from the holy land, his parents, the count +and countess of Thuringia, his friend the court chaplain; and many +others of his acquaintance; yet their dress was changed, and seemed to +belong to another period. There were many forms he could not call by +name, but which nevertheless seemed known to him. He saw the exact +portraits of himself, in different situations. Towards the end he +appeared larger and nobler. The guitar rested in his arms, and the +countess handed him a wreath. He saw himself at the imperial court, on +shipboard, now in warm embrace with a beautifully formed and lovely +girl, now in battle with fierce-looking men, and again in friendly +conversation with Saracens and Moors. He was frequently accompanied by +a man of grave aspect. He felt a deep reverence for this august form, +and was glad to see himself arm in arm with him. The last pictures were +obscure and incomprehensible; yet some of the shapes of his dream +surprised him with the most intense rapture. The conclusion of the book +was wanting. Henry was very sorrowful, and wished for nothing more +earnestly than to be able to read and thoroughly understand the book. +He looked over the pictures repeatedly, and was almost abashed when the +company returned. A strange sort of shame overcame him. He did not +suffer himself to make known his discovery, and merely asked the Hermit +generally about its title and language. He learned that it was written +in the Provence tongue. + +"It is long since I have read it," said the Hermit; "I do not now +remember its contents very distinctly. As far as I recollect, it is a +romance, relating the wonderful fortune of a poet's life, wherein the +art of poesy is represented and extolled in all its various relations. +The conclusion is wanting to the manuscript, which I brought with me +from Jerusalem, where I found it left with a friend, and took it, away, +an a memorial of him." + +They now took leave of each other. Henry was moved to tears; the cave +had become so remarkable and the hermit so dear to him. + +All embraced the hermit heartily, and he himself seemed to have become +attached to them. Henry thought that he noticed his kind and +penetrating gaze fixed upon him. His farewell words to him were full of +meaning. He seemed to know of his discovery and to have reference to +it. He followed them to the entrance of the cave, after having +requested them, and particularly the boy, not to tell the farmers +concerning him, as it would only expose him to their troublesome +acquaintance. + +They all promised this. As they separated from him, and commended +themselves to his prayers, he said, + +"But a short time and we shall see each other again, to smile at the +conversation of this day. A heavenly dawn will surround us, and we +shall rejoice that we greeted each other kindly in this vale of +probation, and were inspired with like sentiments and anticipations. +There are angels who guide us here in safety. If your eye is fixed upon +Heaven, you will never lose the way to your home." + +They separated with a silent feeling of devotion, soon found their +timorous companions, and amid general conversation shortly reached the +village, where Henry's mother, who had been somewhat anxious about him, +received them with a thousand expressions of joy. + + + + + CHAPTER VI. + + +Men, who are born for business, for action, cannot too soon contemplate +for themselves and animate all things. They must themselves grapple +with and pass through many relations, must harden their whole being +against the influence of new situations, and the dissipation which a +multitude and variety of objects engenders; and they must accustom +themselves, even in the urgency of great occasions to hold fast to the +thread of their object. They should not yield to the invitations of +inactive contemplation. Their soul must not be gazing at self; it must +be ceaselessly directed to outward things, a handmaid to the +understanding, active and prompt in discrimination. They are heroes; +and events press about them which must be fulfilled, and their problems +solved. By their influence all occurrences of chance become history, +and their life is an unbroken chain of remarkable and splendid, +intricate and singular events. + +Far otherwise is it with those quiet, unknown men, whose world is their +own mind, whose activity the action of the contemplative intellect, and +whose life a gentle development of their inner powers. No desquietude +drives them to outward things. A tranquil possession satisfies them; +and the immense drama without does not entice them to engage in it +themselves; but they regard it as significant and wonderful, a source +of contemplation for their leisure moments. Longings for the spirit +hold them in the distance; and it is this spirit that destines them to +act the mysterious part of the mind in this human worlds while others +represent the outer limbs and senses, the mind's projected powers. They +would be disturbed by great and various events. A simple life is their +lot, and they become acquainted with the rich subject-matter and +countless phenomena of the world from relations and writings alone. But +seldom in the course of their lives does any occurrence draw them along +with it in its sudden vortex, in order to acquaint them by a few +experiences more accurately with the situation and character of active +men. On the contrary, their susceptible minds are already sufficiently +busied with near and insignificant phenomena, which represent the great +world as it were renewed; and they will advance no step, without making +the most surprising discoveries in themselves, concerning the nature +and significance of these phenomena. They are poets, those men of rare +inspiration, who at times wander through our dwelling-place, and +everywhere renew the ancient, venerable, service of humanity, and of +its first gods,--the stars, spring, love, happiness, fertility, health, +and the joyous heart; they, who are already here in possession of +heavenly rest, and, driven about by no foolish desires, breathe only +the fragrance of earthly fruits, without devouring them, then to be +irrevocably chained to the lower world. They are free guests whose +golden feet tread softly, and whose presence involuntarily outspreads +its wings around. A poet may be known, like a good king, by cheerful +and bright faces, and he alone justly bears the name of sage. If you +compare him with heroes, you will find that the songs of the poets +frequently awake heroic courage in youthful hearts; but heroic deeds +have probably never awakened the spirit of poesy in any mind whatever. +Henry was a poet by nature. Many events seemed to conspire to aid his +development, and as yet nothing had disturbed the elasticity of his +soul. All that he saw and heard seemed only to remove new bars within +him, and to open new windows for his spirit. The world, with its great +and changing relations, lay before him. But as yet it was silent; and +its soul, its language was not yet awakened. Soon did a poet approach, +holding a lovely girl by the hand, that by the sound of the mother +tongue, and by the movement of a sweet and tender mouth; the soft lips +might unlock and the simple harmony unfold in unending melodies. + +The journey was now ended. It was towards evening when our travellers, +in safety and good spirits, arrived at the far-famed city of Augsburg, +and, full of expectation, rode through the high streets to the spacious +mansion of the old Swaning. + +The surrounding country had already appeared delightful to the eyes of +Henry. The animated bustle of the city, and the great houses of stone +affected him strangely, yet agreeably. He experienced a real pleasure +in thinking of his future abode. His mother was very much pleased to +see herself in her native city after her wearisome journey, soon to +embrace again her father and old acquaintances, to introduce Henry to +them, and for once be able quietly to forget all household cares in the +cordial remembrances of her youth. The merchants hoped by the pleasures +there to indemnify themselves for the discomforts of their journey, and +to do a profitable business. + +Lights gleamed from the house of the old Swaning, and joyous music +swelled towards them. "What will you bet," said the merchants, "that +your grandfather is not giving a merry party? We came as if invited. +How much his uninvited guests will astonish him. He is not dreaming +that now the true festivity is about to commence." Henry felt +embarrassed, and his mother was only anxious about their dress. They +alighted; the merchants remained with the horses, and Henry and his +mother entered the splendid mansion. Not a soul belonging to the house +was to be seen below. They were obliged to ascend the lofty stairs. +Some servants ran past them; they asked them to inform the old Swaning +of the arrival of some strangers who wished to speak with him. The +servants made some objection at first, for the travellers did not +appear in very good condition as to dress, yet finally they announced +them to the master of the house. The old Swaning came out. He did not +know them at first, and asked them their names and business. Henry's +mother wept and fell upon his neck. + +"Do you not know your own daughter?" she exclaimed weeping. "I bring +you my son." + +The aged father was extremely moved. He pressed her long to his bosom. +Henry sank upon his knee and tenderly kissed his hand. He raised him to +himself and held both mother and son in his embrace. + +"Come right in," said Swaning, "I have only my friends and +acquaintances here, who will rejoice with me." Henry's mother +hesitated, but had no time to consider. The father led them both into +the lighted hall. + +"Here I bring my daughter and grandson from Eisenach," cried Swaning, +in the merry crowd of gaily dressed guests. + +All eyes were turned towards the door; all ran to it; the music ceased, +and the two travellers stood bewildered and dazzled in their dusty +dresses, in the midst of the motley throng. A thousand joyful +exclamations passed from mouth to mouth. All her acquaintances pressed +around the mother. Innumerable were the questions which were asked. +Each one wished to be recognised and welcomed first. Whilst the elder +part of the company were attending to the mother, the attention of the +younger portion was directed to the strange youth, who was standing +with downcast eyes, not daring to look again upon the unknown faces. +His grandfather introduced him to the company, and inquired after his +father and about the occurrences of his journey. + +The mother thought of the merchants, who out of politeness had remained +below by the horses. She told her father, who sent down for them +immediately, and invited them to ascend. The horses were led into the +stable, and the merchants appeared. + +Swaning thanked them heartily for the friendly escort they had afforded +his daughter. They were acquainted with many who were present, and +exchanged friendly greetings. The mother asked permission to change her +dress. Swaning led her to her chamber, and Henry followed for the same +purpose. + +The appearance of one man was very striking to Henry, who thought that +he had seen him in that book. His noble bearing distinguished him from +all the rest. His face wore an expression of serene gravity, an open, +finely arched forehead, large, black, penetrating, and tranquil eyes, a +humorous expression about his pleasant mouth, and his full manly +proportions, gave to him a meaning and fascinating appearance. He was +strongly built, his movements quiet and expressive, and where he stood +he seemed about to stay forever. Henry asked his grandfather about him. + +"I am glad," said the old man, "that you noticed him. It is my +excellent friend Klingsohr, the poet. You should be prouder of his +acquaintance than of the emperor's. But how is your heart? He has a +beautiful daughter, who perhaps will surpass the father in your eyes. +It would be strange if you had not noticed her." + +Henry blushed; "my mind has been distracted, dear grandfather. The +company is numerous, and I was looking only at your friend." + +"We see that you came from the North," replied Swaning; "we shall soon +thaw you out here. You shall learn soon to look after pretty faces." + +They were now ready, and returned to the hall, where in the mean time +preparations for supper had been made. The old Swaning led Henry to +Klingsohr, and told him that Henry had noticed him particularly, and +ardently desired to become acquainted with him. + +Henry was confused. Klingsohr spoke kindly to him of his fatherland and +of his journey. There was so much to inspire confidence in his voice, +that Henry soon gained courage and conversed with him freely. After a +little while Swaning came to them again, bringing with him the +beautiful Matilda. + +"You must receive my grandson kindly, and pardon him that he has +noticed your father before you. Your bright eyes will awaken his youth +within him. In his native land Spring comes too late." + +Henry and Matilda blushed. They gazed admiringly upon each other. She +asked him, with scarcely audible words, whether he was fond of dancing. +While he was answering in the affirmative, the merry music struck up. +He silently offered her his hand; she accepted it, and they mingled +among the rows of waltzers. Swaning and Klingsohr looked on. The mother +and the merchants were delighted with Henry's grace and with his lovely +partner. The mother had enough to converse about with the friends of +her youth, who wished her much happiness from so well educated and +hopeful a son. + +Klingsohr said to Swaning,--"Your grandson has an attractive +countenance; it indicates a clear and comprehensive mind, and his voice +comes deep from his heart." + +"I hope," replied Swaning, "that he will become your docile pupil. It +seems to me that he is born for a poet. May your spirit fall upon him. +He looks like his father, only he seems more ardent and excitable. The +former was a youth of superior talents. He was wanting, however, in a +certain liberality of mind. He might hare become something more than an +industrious and able mechanic." + +Henry wished that the dance would never end. With heartfelt pleasure +his eyes rested on the roses of his partner. Her innocent eye did not +avoid his. She appeared like the spirit of her father in the most +lovely disguise. Eternal youth spoke from her full and quiet eyes. Upon +a light blue ground lay the mild splendor of the brown stars. Her +forehead and nose were beautifully formed. Her face was like a lily +inclined towards the rising sun, and from her slender white neck, the +blue veins clung round her tender cheeks in gentle curves. Her voice +was like a distant echo, and her small head with its brown tresses +seemed but to hover over her airy form. + +Refreshments were brought in, and the dances closed. The elder people +seated themselves on one side, the younger on the other. + +Henry remained with Matilda. A young relative seated herself at his +left, and Klingsohr sat opposite him. If Matilda said but little, his +other neighbor, Veronika, was so much the more talkative. She +immediately played the familiar with him, and soon made him acquainted +with all present. Henry lost much of her conversation. He was still +with his partner, and wished to turn much oftener to the right. +Klingsohr made an end to their talking. He asked about the band with +the strange devices, which Henry had fastened to his coat. He told him +with much emotion of the girl from the holy land. Matilda wept; and now +Henry could scarcely hide his tears. For this reason he entered into +conversation with her. All were enjoying themselves, and Veronika joked +and laughed with her acquaintances. Matilda described Hungary, where +her father often dwelt, and the mode of life in Augsburg. The enjoyment +was at its height. The music put all restraint to flight, and all the +affections into a joyful play. Baskets of flowers in all their splendor +exhaled their odors upon the table, and the wine danced about between +the dishes and the flowers, shook its golden wings, and formed many +varied pictures between the guests and the world. Henry now understood +for the first time what was meant by a festival. A thousand happy +spirits seemed to gambol around the table, and to live in silent +sympathy with the joys of the happy people, and to intoxicate +themselves with their pleasures. The enjoyment of life stood before +him, like a tinkling tree full of golden fruits. Pain had vanished, and +it seemed impossible that ever human inclination should have turned +from this tree to the dangerous fruit of knowledge, the tree of strife. +He now learned what were wine and food. They tasted very richly to him. +A heavenly oil seasoned them for him, and from the beaker sparkled the +splendor of earthly life. Some of the maidens brought a fresh garland +to the old Swaning. He put it on, and kissing them, said, "You must +bring one also to our friend Klingsohr, and for thanks he will teach +you a couple of new songs. You shall have mine immediately. He beckoned +for the music to commence, and sang with a clear voice:-- + + "Surely life is most distressing, + And a mournful fate we meet! + Stress and need our only blessing, + Practised only in deceit; + And our bosoms never daring + To unfold their soft despairing. + + "What the elders all are telling, + To the youthful heart is waste; + Throes of longing are we feeling + The forbidden fruit to taste; + Would the gentle youths but deign us, + And believe that they could gain us! + + "Thinking so then are we sinning? + All our thoughts are duty-free. + What indeed to us remaining, + Wretched wights, but fantasy? + Do we strive our dreams to banish, + Never, never will they vanish. + + "When in prayer at even bending + Frightens us the loneliness, + Favor and desire are wending + Thitherward to our caress; + How disdain the fair offender, + Or resist the soft surrender? + + "Mothers stern our charms concealing, + Every day prescribe anew. + What availeth all our willing? + Spring they not again to view? + Warm desire is ever riving + Closest fetters with its striving. + + "Every impulse harshly spurning + Hard and cold to be as stone, + Never glances bright returning, + Close to be and all alone, + Heed to no entreaty giving,-- + Call you that the flower of living? + + "Ah, how great a maid's annoyance, + Sick and chafed her bosom is,-- + And to make her only joyance, + Withered lips bestow a kiss! + Will the leaf be turning never, + Elders' reign to end forever?" + +Both old and young laughed. The girls blushed and smiled aside. Amidst +a thousand railleries a second garland was brought and put upon +Klingsohr. They begged him, however, very earnestly not to give them +such a gay song. "No," said Klingsohr, "I will take good care not to +speak so lightly of your secrets; say yourselves what kind of a song +you would prefer." + +"Anything but a love song," cried the girls; "let it be a drinking song +if you like." Klingsohr sang:-- + + "On verdant mountain-side is growing + The god, who heaven to us brings; + The sun's own foster-child, and glowing + With all the fire its favor flings. + + "In Spring is he conceived with pleasure, + The bud unfolds in silent joy, + And mid the Autumn's harvest-treasure + Forth springs to life the golden boy. + + "Within his narrow cradle lying, + In vaulted rooms beneath the ground, + He dreams of feasts and banners flying + And airy castles all around. + + "Near to his dwelling none remaineth, + When chafeth he in restless strife, + And every hoop and fetter straineth + In all the pride of youthful life. + + "For viewless watchmen round are closing, + Until his lordly dreams are o'er, + With air-enveloped spears opposing + The loiterer near the sacred door. + + "So when unfold his sleeping pinions, + With sparkling eyes he greets the day, + Obeys in peace his priestly minions, + And forth he cometh when they pray. + + "From cradle's murky bosom faring, + He winketh through a crystal dress, + The rose of close alliance bearing, + Expressive in its ruddiness. + + "And everywhere around are pressing + His merry men in jubilee, + Their love find gratitude confessing + To him with jocund tongue and free. + + "He scatters o'er the fields and valleys + His innerlife in countless rays, + And Love is sipping from his chalice, + And pledged forever with him stays. + + "As spirit of the golden ages, + The Poet alway he beguiles, + Who everywhere in reeling pages + Doth celebrate his pleasant wiles. + + "He gave him, his allegiance sealing, + To every pretty mouth a right, + And this the god through him revealing, + That none the edict dare to slight." + +"A fine prophet!" exclaimed the girls. Swaning was heartily pleased. +They made some objections, but all to no purpose. They were obliged to +reach out their sweet lips to him. Henry blushed only on account of his +earnest neighbor; otherwise he would have loudly rejoiced in the +privilege of the poet. Veronika was among the garland bearers. She came +suddenly back and said to Henry, "truly, is it not a fine thing to be a +poet?" + +Henry did not trust himself to take advantage of this question. Excess +of joy and the earnestness of first love were contending in his breast. +The charming Veronika was joking with the others, and in the meanwhile +he found time somewhat to quench his joy. Matilda told him that she +played the guitar. "Ah!" said he, "how I should love to learn it from +you. I have for a long time desired it." + +"My father instructed me; he plays it matchlessly," said she blushing. + +"I believe, however," said Henry, "that I can learn it more easily from +you. How delighted I should be to hear you sing." + +"Do not expect too much." + +"O!" said Henry, "what may I not expect, since your speech merely is +song, and your form is expressive of heavenly music." + +Matilda was silent. Her father commenced a conversation, in which Henry +spoke with the most lively spirit Those who were near wondered at the +fluency of the young man's speech, and the richness of his imagery. +Matilda gazed upon him with silent attention. She seemed to delight in +his words, which were still more clearly explained by his speaking +features. His eyes appeared unusually brilliant. He turned at times +towards Matilda, who was astonished by the expression of his face. In +the warmth of conversation, he involuntarily seized her hand, and she +could not but sanction much of what he said, with a gentle pressure. +Klingsohr knew how to keep up his enthusiasm, and gradually drew his +whole soul from his lips. At last all rose. There was a general +confusion. Henry remained by the side of Matilda. They stood apart +unobserved. He clasped her hand and kissed it tenderly. She suffered +him to hold it without opposition, and looked upon him with unspeakable +kindness. He could not restrain himself, bent towards her, and kissed +her lips. She was taken unawares and involuntarily returned his ardent +kiss. "Sweet Matilda,"--"Dear Henry,"--this was all they could say to +each other. She pressed his hand, and then mingled with her companions. +Henry stood as if in Heaven. His mother came to him. He told her all +concerning his love. + +"Is it not a good thing that we have visited Augsburg?" said she. "Does +it not in truth please you?" + +"Dear mother," said Henry, "I had not represented it to myself thus. It +is most glorious." + +The remainder of the evening passed away in infinite pleasure. The old +people played, talked, and observed the dancing. The music undulated +through the hall like a pleasure-sea, and bore along the enraptured +youth upon its surface. + +Henry felt the rapturous presages of the first buoyancy of love. +Matilda also willingly suffered herself to be carried away by the +flattering waves, and only concealed from him her tender trust, her +budding inclination, behind a light flower veil. The old Swaning +noticed the growing intimacy between them, and teazed them both about +it. Klingsohr had taken a liking to Henry, and was pleased with his +tenderness towards his daughter.--The other young men and girls soon +noticed it. They brought the sober Matilda forward with the young +Thuringian, and did not conceal that they were glad no longer to be +obliged to shun Matilda's observation of the secrets of their hearts. + +It was late in the evening when the company separated. "The first and +only feast of my life," said Henry, when he was alone, and his mother +had retired wearied to rest. "Do I not feel as I felt in that dream +about the blue flower? What peculiar connexion is there between Matilda +and that flower? That face, which bowed towards me from the petals, was +Matilda's heavenly countenance, and I also now remember that I saw it +in that book. But why did it not there thus move my heart? O! she is +the visible spirit of song, the worthy daughter of her father. She will +dissolve me into music. She will become my inmost soul, the guardian +spirit of my holy fire. What an eternity of faithful love do I feel +within me? I was born only to revere her, to serve her forever, to +think of and to feel her. Does there not belong a peculiar, undivided +existence to her contemplation and worship? Am I the happy one, whose +being may be the echo, the mirror of her's? It is not owing to chance +that I have seen her at the end of my journey, that a happy feast has +encircled the highest moment of my life. It could not have been +otherwise; for does not her presence render every thing a feast?" + +He stepped to the window. The choir of the stars stood in the dusky +sky, and in the east a white glimmer announced the coming day. + +Full of rapture, Henry exclaimed, "Ye eternal stars, ye silent +wanderers, I call upon you as witnesses of my sacred oath. For Matilda +will I live, and eternal constancy shall bind her to my heart. The +morning of eternal day is also opening for me. The night is past. I +kindle myself to the rising sun, for an inextinguishable offering." + +Henry was heated, and only fell asleep late in the morning. The +thoughts of his soul flowed together into a wonderful dream. A deep +blue stream glimmered from the green plains. A boat was floating upon +the smooth surface. Matilda was sitting in it, and steering. She was +adorned with garlands, singing a simple song, and looked over to him +with sweet sadness. His bosom was oppressed, he knew not why. The sky +was clear; the flood quiet. Her heavenly face was reflected in the +waves. Suddenly the boat began to whirl. He cried out to her earnestly. +She smiled and laid down the helm in the boat which continued its +whirling. He was seized with overwhelming fear. He plunged into the +stream, but could not move, and was hurried along. She beckoned to him, +as if she had something to tell him, and though the boat was fast +filling with water, yet she smiled with unspeakable tenderness, and +looked down serenely into the abyss. Suddenly it drew her in. A gentle +breath of air passed over the stream, which, flowed on as quiet and +glittering as ever. His intense anxiety robbed Henry of all +consciousness. His heart no longer throbbed. On recovering, his senses, +he was on the dry land. He must have floated a long distance. It was a +strange country. He knew not what had happened to him. His mind had +vanished. Thoughtlessly he plunged deeper and deeper into the country. +He was excessively weary. A little spring gushed from the side of a +hill, sounding like the music of bells. In his hand he caught +a few drops, and with them wetted his parched lips. The terrible +occurrence lay behind him like a fearful dream. He walked on farther +and farther;--flowers and trees spoke to him. + +Now he felt in high spirits and at home. He heard that song again. He +ran to the place whence the sounds proceeded. Suddenly some one held +him by the clothes. "Dear Henry," cried a well known voice. He looked +round, and Matilda clasped him in her arms. + +"Why did you run from me, dear heart," cried she panting. "I could +scarcely overtake you." + +Henry wept. He clasped her to himself, "Where is the stream?" cried he +with tears. + +"Do you not see its blue waves above us?" + +He looked up, and the blue stream was flowing gently over his head. + +"Where are we, dear Matilda?" + +"With our fathers." + +"Shall we remain together?" + +"Forever," she replied, while she pressed her lips to his, and so +embraced him that she could not tear herself from him. She put a +wondrous, secret word into his mouth, and it rang through his whole +being. He was about to repeat it, when his grandfather called, and he +awoke. He would have given his life to remember that word. + + + + + CHAPTER VII. + + +Klingsohr stood before his bed and kindly bade him good morning. He was +in high spirits, and fell upon Klingsohr's neck. "That is not meant for +you," cried Swaning. Henry smiled, and hid his blushes on his mother's +cheeks. + +"Would you like to go with me," said Klingsohr, "and breakfast on a +beautiful eminence just before the city? The fine morning would refresh +you. Dress yourself. Matilda is already waiting for us." + +Henry with a thousand joyful feelings thanked him for his welcome +invitation. In a moment he was ready, and kissed Klingsohr's hand with +much fervor. They went to Matilda, who looked wonderfully lovely in her +simple morning dress, and who greeted him kindly. She had already +packed her breakfast into a little basket which she hung upon one arm, +and without ceremony gave the other to Henry. Klingsohr followed them, +and thus they passed through the city, already full of animation, to a +little hill by the river, where a wide and full prospect opened between +some lofty trees. + +"Though I have often," said Henry, "delighted in the unfolding of +varied nature in the peaceful neighborhood of her manifold possessions; +yet never has such a creative and pure serenity filled me, as today. +Those distant points seem so near to me, and the rich landscape is like +an inward fantasy. How changeable is nature, however unchangeable +appears its surface! How different is it when an angel, a spirit of +power is at our side, than when a person in distress utters his +complaints before us, or a farmer tells us how unfortunate the weather +is for him, or how much he needs some rainy days for his crops. To you, +dearest master, do I owe this bliss; yes, this bliss,--for there is no +other word that can more truly express my heart's condition. Joy, +desire, transport, are merely the members of that bliss which inspires +them with a higher life. He pressed Matilda's hand to his heart, and +his ardent gaze sank deep into her mild and susceptible eyes. + +"Nature," replied Klingsohr, "is for our mind, what a body is for +light. It reflects it, separates it into its proper colors, kindles a +light on its surface or within it, when it equals its opacity: when it +is superior, it rays forth in order to enlighten other bodies. But eyen +the darkest bodies can, by water, fire, and air, be made clear and +brilliant." + +"I understand you," dear master. "Men are crystals for our minds. They +are the transparent nature. Dear Matilda, I might call you a pure and +costly sapphire. You are clear and transparent as the heavens; you beam +with the mildest light. But tell me, dear master, whether I am right; +it seems to me that at the very point when one is most intimate with +nature, he can and would say the least concerning her." + +"That depends upon your view of her," said Klingsohr. "Nature is one +thing for our enjoyment and our disposition, but another for our +intellect, the guiding faculty of our earthward powers. We must take +good care not to lose sight of one more than the other. There are many +who only know the one side, and think but little of the other. But we +can unite them both, and that too with profit. A great pity it is, that +so few think of being able to move freely and fitly in their inner +natures, and to insure for themselves, by a necessary separation, the +most effectual and natural use of their faculties. Usually the one +hinders the other; and thus a helpless sluggishness gradually arises, +so that, if such men should ever arise with united powers, a great +confusion and contention would ensue, and all things would be tossed +here and there in an ungainly manner. I cannot sufficiently impress +upon you, to endeavor with industry and care to be acquainted with your +own intellect and natural bias. Nothing is more indispensable to the +poet, than insight into the nature of every occupation, acquaintance +with the means by which every object may be attained, and the power of +fitly regulating the presence of the spirit according to time and +circumstances. Inspiration without intellect is useless and dangerous; +and the poet will be able to perform few wonders, when he is astonished +by wonders." + +"But is not an implicit faith in man's dominion over destiny +indispensable to the poet?" + +"Certainly indispensable, because he cannot represent fate to himself +in any other light, when he maturely reflects upon it. But how distant +is this calm certainty from that anxious doubt, which proceeds from the +blind fear of superstition! And thus also the steady, animating warmth +of a poetic mind is exactly the reverse of the wild heat of a sickly +heart; The one is poor, overwhelming, and transient; the other +perfectly distinguishes all forms, favors the culture of the most +manifold relations, and is in itself eternal. The youthful poet cannot +be too cool and considerate. A far-reaching, attentive, and quiet +disposition belongs to the true, melodious ease of address. It becomes +a confused prattling, when a violent storm is raging in the breast; and +the attention is lost in a trembling emptiness of thought. Once more I +repeat it; the true mind is like the light; even as calm and sensitive, +as elastic and penetrating, as powerful and as imperceptibly active, as +that costly element, which with its native regularity scatters itself +upon all objects, and exhibits them in charming variety. The poet is +pure steel, as sensitive as a brittle thread of glass, as hard as the +unyielding flint." + +"I have indeed at times felt," said Henry, "that in the moments when my +inner nature was most awake, I was less excited than at other times, +when I could run about freely and attend to all occupations with +pleasure. A spiritual, penetrative essence permeated me, and I could +employ every sense at pleasure, could revolve every thought like an +actual body, and view it from all sides. I stood with silent sympathy +in my father's work-shop, and rejoiced when I could help him to +accomplish anything properly. Propriety has a peculiarly strengthening +charm, and it is true that the consciousness of it gives rise to a more +lasting and distinct enjoyment, than that overflowing feeling of an +incomprehensible, superfluous splendor." + +"Believe not," said Klingsohr, "that I disregard the latter; but it +must come of itself and not be bought. The rarity of its appearance is +beneficent; if more frequent, it would weary and weaken. One cannot +quickly enough tear himself from the sweet rapture which it leaves +behind, and return to a regular and laborious occupation. It is as with +pleasant morning dreams, from whose sleepy vortex one must extricate +himself by force, if he would not fall into a lassitude, continually +more oppressive, and so struggle through the whole day in sickly +exhaustion." + +"Poetry," continued Klingsohr, "will be cultivated strictly as an art. +As mere enjoyment it ceases to be poetry. The poet must not run about +unoccupied the whole day in chase of figures and feelings. That is the +very reverse of the proper method. A pure, open mind, dexterity in +reflection and contemplation, and ability to put forth all the +faculties in a mutually animating effort, and to keep them so,--these +are the requisites of our art. If you will commit yourself to my care, +no day shall pass in which you shall not add stores to your knowledge, +and obtain some useful views. The city is rich in artists of all +descriptions. There are some experienced statesmen and educated +merchants here. One can get acquainted with all ranks without much +difficulty, with people of all pursuits, and with all social +circumstances and requirements. I will with pleasure instruct you in +the mechanical part of our art, and read its most remarkable +productions with you. You may share Matilda's hours of instruction, and +she will willingly teach you to play the guitar. Each occupation will +usher in the rest; and when you have thus well spent the day, the +conversation and pleasures of a social evening, and the views of the +beautiful landscapes around, will continually renew to you the calmest +enjoyment." + +"What a glorious life you here lay open to me, dear master. Under your +guidance I shall for the first time understand what a noble mark is +before me, and how by your counsel alone I can hope to attain it." + +Klingsohr embraced him tenderly. Matilda brought them the breakfast, +and Henry asked her with a tender voice, whether she would be kind +enough to receive him as fellow pupil, and her own scholar. "I shall +probably be your scholar forever," said he, as Klingsohr turned away. +She nodded slightly towards him. He threw his arms around the blushing +maiden, and kissed her soft lips. Gently she retreated from him, yet +handed him with childish grace a rose which she wore in her bosom. She +then busied herself about her basket. Henry watched her with silent +rapture, kissed the rose, fixed it on his breast, and walked to +Klingsohr's side, who was gazing down at the city. + +"By what road, did you come here," asked Klingsohr. + +"Down over that hill," replied Henry, "where the road loses itself in +the distance." + +"You must have seen some fair landscapes." + +"We travelled through an almost uninterrupted series of beautiful +ones." + +"Perhaps your native town is pleasantly situated?" + +"The country is varied enough; it is rude, however, and a noble river +is wanting. Streams are the eyes of a landscape." + +"Your account of your journey," said Klingsohr, "agreeably entertained +me last evening. I have indeed observed that the spirit of poesy is +your kind companion. Your friends have unobservedly become its voices. +Where a poet is, poetry everywhere breaks out. The land of poetry, +romantic Palestine, has greeted you with its sweet sadness; war has +addressed you in its wild glory, and nature and history have met you in +the forms of a miner and a hermit." + +"You forget the best, dear master, the heavenly appearance of love. It +depends upon you, whether this appearance shall forever remain with +me." + +"What do you think," cried Klingsohr as he turned to Matilda who was +just approaching; "would you like to become Henry's inseparable +companion? Where you are, I remain also." + +Matilda was terrified. She flew into her father's arms. Henry trembled +with infinite joy. "Shall he then be with me forever, dear father?" + +"Ask him for yourself," said Klingsohr With emotion. + +She looked upon Henry with the most heart-felt tenderness. + +"My eternity is indeed thy work," cried Henry, whilst the tears rolled +down his blooming cheeks. + +They embraced each other. Klingsohr caught them in his arms. "My +children," he cried, "be faithful to each other unto death! Love and +constancy will make your life eternal poesy." + + + + + CHAPTER VIII. + + +In the afternoon Klingsohr led to his room his new son, in whose +happiness his mother and grandfather took the tenderest interest, +honoring Matilda as his protecting spirit, and made him acquainted with +his books. Afterward they spoke of poetry. + +"I know not," said Klingsohr, "why the representation of nature as a +poet is commonly considered poetry. She is not so at all times. Dull +desire, stupid apathy and sluggishness, are in her, as in men, exposing +qualities which wage a restless strife With poesy. This mighty battle +would be a fine subject for a poem. Many lands and ages seem, like the +majority of men, to stand entirely under the dominion of this enemy to +poesy; in others, on the contrary, poesy is at home and everywhere +visible. The periods of this battle are very worthy of the historian's +notice, and its representation is a pleasant and profitable employment. +It is usually the season of the poet's birth. Nothing is more +disagreeable to its adversary than that she, herself being opposed to +poesy, becomes a poetic personage, and often in the heat of the +engagement changes weapons with poesy, and is violently struck by her +own venomous darts; while, on the other hand, the wounds of poesy, +which she receives from her own weapons, heal readily, and only serve +to render her yet more charming and powerful." + +"On the whole," said Henry, "war seems to me poetical. People fancy +that they must fight for a possession no matter how miserable, and do +not observe that the spirit of romance excites them to annihilate all +useless baseness. They carry arms for the cause of poesy, and both +hosts follow an invisible standard." + +"In war," replied Klingsohr, "the primeval fluid is stirred up. New +continents are to arise, new races to spring forth from the great +dissolution. The true war is the war of religion; its direct end is +destruction; and men's madness appears in its full dimensions. Many +wars, particularly those which originate in national hate, belong to +this class, and are real poems. Here true heroes are at home, who, +being the noblest antitypes of poesy, are but earthly powers +involuntarily penetrated by poesy. A poet, who at the same time were a +hero, would be indeed a heavenly messenger; but our poetry is not equal +to the work of representing him." + +"How am I to understand that, dear father," said Henry. "Can any object +be too lofty for poesy?" + +"Certainly. We cannot on the whole speak for poesy itself, but only for +her earthly means and instruments. If indeed there is for every single +poet a proper district within which he must remain, in order not to +lose all breath and vantage, then there is also for the whole sum of +human powers a determinate boundary line to the capacity for +representation; beyond which representation cannot retain the necessary +strength or form, but loses itself in an empty, delusive nonentity. +Particularly as a pupil, one cannot guard enough against these +extravagances; since a lively fancy loves too well to fly to the +extreme bounds, and arrogantly endeavors to seize upon and express the +supersensual and exuberant. Riper experience first teaches us to shun +this disproportion of objects, and to leave the investigation of what +is simplest and loftiest to worldly wisdom. The older poet rises no +higher than is needful to arrange, his vast stock in a comprehensible +order, and he is careful to omit the manifoldness, which afforded him +the requisite material, and also the necessary points of agreement. I +might almost say that in every line chaos should shine through the +well-clipped foliage of order. A graceful style merely renders the +richness of the thought more comprehensible and agreeable; regular +symmetry, on the contrary, has all the dryness of numbers. The best +poesy lies very near us, and an ordinary matter is not seldom the +object of its most tender love. With the poet, poetry is confined to +limited instruments, and just so far becomes an art. Language +especially has its fixed sphere. The compass of one's native tongue is +yet narrower. By practice and reflection the poet learns to understand +his own language. He knows exactly what he can accomplish by its aid, +and will make no fruitless attempt to strain it beyond its powers. +Seldom will he collect all its powers upon a single point; for +otherwise he becomes wearisome, and even destroys the rich effect of a +well applied exhibition of its strength. No poet, but a quack, aims at +wonderful efforts."[See Note III.] + + +"Poets on the whole cannot learn too much from musicians and painters. +In these arts it is very striking, how necessary it is to take sparing +advantage of the auxiliary means of the art, and how much depends upon +proper relations. Those artists, on the contrary, can certainty accept +from us the poetic independence, and the inner spirit of each +composition and invention; particularly of every genuine work. The +execution, not the material, is the object of the art. They should be +more poetical, we more musical and graphic; yet both according to the +manner and method of our art. You yourself will soon see in what songs +you can best succeed; they will certainly be those, the subjects of +which are easiest and nearest at hand. Therefore it can be said that +poetry rests entirely upon experience. I know that in my younger days +an object could hardly seem too distant and too unknown, for such I +delighted most to sing. What was the result? An empty, meagre flash of +words, without a spark of true poetry. Thence the tale[3] is the most +difficult of tasks, and a young poet will seldom perform it correctly." + +"I should like to hear one of yours," said Henry. "The few I have +heard, though insignificant, have delighted me exceedingly." + +"I will satisfy your wish this evening. I remember one which I composed +when quite young, which is sufficiently evident still; yet it will +entertain you the more instructively, for it will recall much that I +have told you." + +"Language," said Henry, "is indeed a little world in signs and sounds. +As man rules over it, so would he rule the great world, and in it +express himself freely. And in this very joy of expressing in the world +what is without it, and of doing that which in reality was the primal +object of our existence, lies the origin of poetry." + +"It is very unfortunate," said Klingsohr, "that poetry has a particular +name, and that poets constitute a particular class. It is not, however, +strange. It arises from the natural action of the human sprit. Does not +every man strive and compose at every moment?" + +Just then Matilda entered the room. Klingsohr continued. "Consider +love, for instance. In nothing is the necessity of poetry for the +continuance of humanity so clear as in that. Love is silent; poesy +alone can speak for it. Or rather love itself is nothing but the +highest poetry of nature. Yet I will not tell you of things, with which +you are better acquainted than I." + +"Thou art indeed the father of love;" cried Henry, as he threw his arms +around Matilda, and they both kissed his hand. + +Klingsohr embraced them and went out. + +"Dear Matilda," said Henry after a long kiss, "it seems to me like a +dream, that thou art mine; yet it seems still more wonderful, that thou +hast not been so always." + +"It seems to me," said Matilda, "that I knew thee long, long ago." + +"Canst thou then love me?" + +"I know not what love is; but this can I tell thee, that it is as if I +now first began to live, and that I am so devoted to thee that I would +this instant die for thee." + +"My Matilda, now for the first time do I feel what it is to be +immortal." + +"Dear Henry, how infinitely good thou art. What a glorious spirit +speaks from thee. I am a poor, insignificant girl." + +"How thou dost make me blush! Indeed I am what I am only through thee. +Without thee I were nothing. What were a spirit without a heaven; and +thou art the heaven that upbears and supports me." + +"How divinely happy should I be, wert thou as faithful as my father. My +mother died shortly after my birth; yet my father weeps for her every +day." + +"I deserve it not, yet may I be happier than he!" + +"I would joyfully live long by thy side, dear Henry. Certainly through +thee I should become much better." + +"O! Matilda, even death shall not separate us." + +"No, Henry, where I am, wilt thou be." + +"Yes, where thou art, Matilda, will I forever be." + +"I comprehend not the meaning of eternity; yet I fancy that what I +feel, when I think of thee, must constitute eternity." + +"Yes, Matilda, we are eternal, because we love each other." + +"Thou canst not believe, dearest, how fervently, when we came home +early this morning, I knelt before the image of the holy mother, what +unspeakable things I prayed to her. I thought that I should melt away +in tears. It seemed as if she smiled upon me. I now for the first time +know what gratitude is." + +"O beloved, Heaven has given me thee to adore. I worship thee. Thou art +the holy one that carriest my wishes to God, through whom He reveals +himself to me, through whom He makes known to me the fulness of His +love. What is religion but an infinite harmony, an eternal unison of +loving hearts? Where two are gathered together, He is indeed among +them. Thou wilt be my breath eternally. My bosom will never cease to +draw thee to itself. Thou art divine majesty, eternal life in the +loveliest of forms." + +"Alas, Henry, thou knowest the fate of the roses. Wilt thou also press +the pale cheek, the withered lips, with tenderness to thy own? Will not +the traces of age be also the traces of bygone love?" + +"O that thou couldst see through my eyes into my spirit! But thou +lovest me, and canst also believe me. I cannot comprehend what is said +of the withering of charms. They are unfading! That which draws me so +inseparably to thee, that has awakened in me such everlasting desire, +is not of this world. Couldst thou but see how thou appearest to me, +what a wonderful form penetrates thy shape, and everywhere is raying +towards me, thou wouldst not fear age. Thy earthly shape is but a +shadow of this form. The earthly faculties strive and swell that they +may incarnate it; but nature is yet unripe; the form is only an eternal +archetype, a fragment of the unknown holy world." + +"I understand thee, dear Henry, for I see something similar when I look +upon thee." + +"Yes, Matilda, the higher world is nearer to us than we usually +believe. Here already we live in it, and we see it closely interwoven +with our earthly nature." + +"Thou wilt yet reveal much that is glorious to me, beloved?" + +"O! Matilda, from thee alone cometh the gift of divination. Everything +that I have is indeed thine. Thy love will lead me into the sanctuaries +of life, and the most sacred recesses of the mind; thou wilt fill me +with enthusiasm, wilt excite me to the highest contemplation. Who knows +that our love will not change to wings of flame bearing us upward, and +carrying us to our heavenly home, ere old age and death reach us? Is it +not a miracle already that thou art mine, that I hold thee in my arms, +that thou lovest me, and that thou wilt be mine forever?" + +"To me also everything seems possible, and I plainly feel a gentle +flame kindling within me. Who knows that it does not transfigure us, +and gradually dissolve all earthly ties? Only tell me, Henry, whether +thou hast that boundless confidence in me, that I have in thee. Yet I +never have felt towards any one as I do towards thee; not even to my +father, whom I love so dearly." + +"Dear Matilda, it really torments me, that I cannot tell thee +everything at once, that I cannot at once give my whole heart to thee. +For the first time in my life am I perfectly frank. No thought, no +feeling can I longer conceal from thee,--thou must know everything. My +whole being shall mingle itself with thine. A most boundless +resignation to thee can alone satisfy my love. In that indeed it +consists. It is truly a most mysterious flowing together of our most +secret and personal existence." + +"Henry, two beings can never thus have loved each other." + +"I cannot believe it possible, for till now no Matilda has lived." + +"And no Henry!" + +"Swear to me once more that thou art mine. Love is an endless +repetition." + +"Yes, Henry, by the invisible presence of my good mother, I swear to be +thine forever." + +"I swear to be thine forever, Matilda, as surely as love, God's +presence, is with us." + +A long embrace and countless kisses sealed the eternal alliance of the +blessed pair. + + + + + CHAPTER IX. + + +At evening some guests were present; the grandfather drank the health +of the young bridal pair, and promised to give them soon a splendid +marriage feast. "Of what use is long waiting?" said the old man. "Early +marriages make long love. I have always observed that marriages early +contracted were the happiest. In latter years there is no longer such a +devotion in the marriage relation as in youth. Youth, enjoyed in +common, forms an inseparable tie. Memory is the safest ground of love." + +After the meal more people came in. Henry asked his new father to +fulfil his promise. Klingsohr said to the company, "I have promised +Henry to-day to relate a tale. If it would please you I am ready to do +so." + +"That was a wise idea of Henry's," said Swaning. "We have heard nothing +from you for a long time." + +All seated themselves by the fire, which was sparkling on the hearth. +Henry sat by Matilda, and stole his arm around her. Klingsohr began. + +"The long night had just set in. The old hero struck his shield, so +that it resounded far through the solitary streets of the city. Thrice +he repeated the signal. Then the lofty, many-colored windows of the +palace began to shed abroad their light, and their figures were put in +motion. They moved the more quickly, as the ruddy stream which began to +illumine the streets became stronger. Also by degrees the immense +pillars and walls began to shine. At length they stood in the purest +milk-blue glimmer, and flickered with the softest colors. The whole +region was now visible, and the reflection of the figures, the clashing +of the spears, swords, shields, and helmets, which bowed from all sides +towards crowns appearing here and there, and finally closed round a +simple green garland in a wide circle, as the crowns vanished before +it; all this was reflected from the frozen sea that surrounded the hill +on which the city stood,--and even the far distant mountain range, +which girdled the sea, was half enwrapped with a mildly reflected +splendor. Nothing could be plainly distinguished; yet a strange sound +was heard, as if from an immense workshop in the distance. The city, on +the contrary, was light and clear. Its smooth transparent walls +reflected the beautiful beams; and the perfect symmetry, the noble +style, and fine arrangement of all the buildings were well defined. +Before every window stood earthern pots with ornaments, full of every +variety of ice and snow flowers, which sparkled most brilliantly. + +"But fairest of all appeared the garden upon the great square in front +of the palace, consisting of metal plants and crystal trees, hung with +varied jewel-blossoms and fruits. The manifold and delicate shapes, the +lively lights and colors, formed a lordly spectacle, made still more +magnificent by a lofty fountain, frozen in the midst of the garden. The +old hero walked slowly past the palace doors. A voice from within +called his name. He turned towards the door, which opened with a gentle +sound, and stewed into the hall. His shield was held before his eyes. + +"'Hast thou yet discovered nothing,' plaintively cried the beautiful +daughter of Arcturus. She lay on silken cushions, upon a throne +artfully fashioned from a huge pyrite-crystal, and some maidens were +assiduously chafing her tender limbs, which seemed a rare union of milk +and purple. On all sides streamed from beneath the hands of the maidens +that charming light, which so wondrously illuminated the palace. A +perfumed breeze was waving through the hall. The hero was silent. + +"'Let me touch thy shield,' said she softly. + +"He approached the throne and stepped upon the costly carpet. She +seized his hand, pressed it with tenderness to her heavenly bosom, and +touched his shield. His armor resounded, and a penetrating force +inspired his frame. His eyes flashed, and the heart beat loudly against +his breastplate. The beautiful Freya appeared more serene, and the +light that streamed from her became more brilliant. + +"'The king is coming,' cried a splendid bird that was perched behind +the throne. The attendants threw an azure veil over the princess, which +concealed her heaving bosom. The hero lowered his shield, and looked +upward to the dome, whither two broad staircases wound from each side +of the hall. Soft music preceded the king, who soon appeared in the +dome, and descended with a numerous train. + +"The beautiful bird unfolded its shining wings, and gently fluttering, +sang to the king as with a thousand voices: + + "The stranger fair delay no longer maketh. + Warmth draweth near, Eternity begins. + From long and tedious dreams the Queen awaketh, + When land in eddying love with ocean spins. + Her farewell hence the chilly midnight taketh, + When Fable first the ancient title wins. + The world will kindle upon Freya's breast, + And every longing in its longing rest." + +The King embraced his daughter with tenderness. The spirits of the +stars surrounded the throne, and the hero took his place in the order. +A numerous crowd of stars filled the hall in splendid groups. The +attendants brought a table and a little casket, containing a heap of +leaves, upon which were inscribed mystic figures of deep significance, +constructed of constellations. The king reverently kissed these leaves, +mixed them carefully together, and handed some to his daughter; the +rest he kept. The princess placed them in a row upon the table; then +the king closely examined his own, and chose with much reflection +before he added one to them. At times he seemed forced to choose this +or that leaf. But often his joy was evident, when he could complete by +a lucky leaf a beautiful harmony of signs and figures. As the play +commenced, tokens of the liveliest sympathy were visible among all the +by-standers, accompanied by peculiar looks and gestures, as if each one +had an invisible instrument in his hands which he plied diligently. At +the same time a gentle but deeply moving music was heard in the air, +seeming to arise from the stars gliding past each other in a wondrous +motion, and from the other movements so peculiar. The stars floated +round, now slowly, now quickly, in continually changing lines, and +curiously imitated, to the swell of the music, the figures on the +leaves. The music changed incessantly with the images upon the table; +and though the transitions were often strange and intricate, yet a +simple theme seemed to unite the whole. With incredible adroitness the +stars flew together according to the images. Now in great confusion, +but now again beautifully arranged in single clusters, and now the long +train was suddenly scattered, like a ray, into innumerable sparks, but +soon came together, through smaller circles and patterns ever +increasing, into one great figure of surprising beauty. The varied +shapes in the windows remained all this time at rest. The bird +unceasingly ruffled its costly plumage in every variety of form. +Hitherto the old hero had also pursued an unseen occupation, when +suddenly the king full of joy exclaimed, "all is well. Iron, throw thy +sword into the world, that it may know where peace rests." + +The hero snatched the sword from his thigh, raised it with the point to +heaven, and hurled it from the window over the city and the icy sea. It +flew through the air like a comet, and seemed to penetrate the mountain +chain with a clear report, as it fell downward in brilliant flakes of +fire. + +At this time the beautiful child Eros lay in his cradle and slumbered +gently, whilst Ginnistan his nurse rocked him, and held out her breast +to his foster-sister Fable. She had spread her variegated wimple over +the cradle, so that the bright lamp which stood before the scribe might +not trouble the child. Busily he wrote, at times looking morosely at +the children, and gloomily towards the nurse, who smiled upon him +kindly and kept silence. + +The father of the children walked in and out continually, at each turn +gazing upon them, and greeting Ginnistan kindly. He always had +something to dictate to the scribe. The latter observed his words +exactly, and when he had written, handed them to an aged and venerable +woman, who was leaning on an altar, where stood a dark bowl of clear +water, into which she looked with serene smiles. When she dipped the +leaves in the water, and found on withdrawing them, that some of the +writing remained still glittering, she gave them to the scribe, who +fastened them in a great book, and seemed much out of humor when his +labor had been in vain, and all the writing had been obliterated. The +woman turned at times towards Ginnistan and the children, and dipping +her finger in the bowl, sprinkled some drops upon them, which, as soon +as they touched the nurse, the child, or the cradle, dissolved into a +blue vapor, exhibiting a thousand strange images, and floating and +changing constantly around them. If one of these by chance touched the +scribe, many figures and geometrical diagrams fell down, which he +strung with much diligence upon a thread, and hung them for an ornament +around his meagre neck. The child's mother, who was sweetness and +loveliness itself, often came in. She seemed to be constantly occupied, +always carrying with her some domestic utensil. If the prying scribe +observed it, he began a long reproof, of which no one took any notice. +All seemed accustomed to his fruitless fault-finding. The mother +sometimes gave the breast to little Fable, but was soon called away, +and Ginnistan took the child back again, for it seemed to love her +best. Suddenly the father brought in a small slender rod of iron, which +he had found in the court. The scribe looked at it, twirled it round +quickly, and soon discovered, that being suspended from the middle by a +thread, it turned of itself to the north. Ginnistan also took it in her +hand, bent it, pressed it, breathed upon it, and soon gave it the form +of a serpent biting, its own tail. The scribe was soon weary of looking +at it. He wrote down everything that had occurred, and was very diffuse +about the utility of such a discovery. But how vexed was he when all he +had written did not stand the proof, and when the paper came blank from +the bowl. The nurse continued to play with it. She chanced to touch +with it the cradle; the child awoke, threw off his covering, and +holding one hand towards the light, reached after the serpent with the +other. As soon as he received it, he leaped so quickly from the cradle +that Ginnistan was frightened, and the scribe fell nearly out of his +chair from wonder; the child stood in the chamber, covered only by his +long golden hair, and gazed with speechless joy upon the prize, which +pointed in his hands, towards the North, and seemed to awake within him +deep emotion. He grew visibly. + +"Sophia," said he with a touching voice to the woman, "let me drink +from the bowl." + +She gave it him without delay, and he could not cease drinking; yet the +bowl continued full. At last he returned it, while embracing the good +woman heartily. He pressed Ginnistan to his heart, and asked her for +the variegated cloth, which he bound becomingly around his thigh. He +took little Fable in his arms. She appeared greatly to delight in him, +and began to prattle. Ginnistan devoted all her attention to him. She +looked exceedingly charming and gay, and pressed him to herself with +the tenderness of a bride. She led him with whispered words to the +chamber door, but Sophia nodded earnestly and pointed to the serpent. +Just then the mother entered, to whom he immediately flew, and with +warm tears welcomed her. The scribe had departed in anger. The father +entered: and as he saw mother and son in silent embrace, he approached +the charming Ginnistan behind them and caressed her. Sophia ascended +the stairs. Little Fable took the scribe's pen and began to write. +Mother and son were deeply engaged in conversation. The father availed +himself of the opportunity, and lavished many a tender word and look +upon Ginnistan, who returned them willingly; and in their sweet +interchange of love, both the presence or absence of any was forgotten. +After some time Sophia returned, and the scribe entered. He drove +little Fable with many rebukes from his seat, and took a long time to +put his things in order. He handed to Sophia the leaves that Fable had +written over, that they might be returned clean; but his displeasure +was extreme, when Sophia drew the writing brilliant and uneffaced from +the bowl, and laid it before him. Fable clang to her mother, who took +her to her breast, and put the chamber in order, opened the windows for +the fresh air, and made preparations for a costly meal. A beautiful +landscape was visible from the windows, and a serene sky overarched the +earth. The father was busily employed in the court. When he was weary, +he looked up towards the window, where Ginnistan stood and threw to him +all sorts of sweetmeats. Mother and son went out in order to assist in +any manner, and to prepare for the resolution they had taken. The +scribe twitched his pen, and always made a wry face, when he was forced +to ask any information of Ginnistan, who had a good memory and +recollected everything that transpired. Eros soon returned, clad in +beautiful armor, round which the varigated cloth was wound like a +scarf. He asked Sophia's advice as to when and how he should commence +his journey. The scribe was very troublesome, and wanted to furnish him +with a complete traveller's guide, but his instructions were not +regarded. + +"You can commence your journey immediately," said Sophia, "Ginnistan +can guide you. She knows the road and is acquainted everywhere. She +will take the form of your mother, that she may not lead you into +temptation. If you find the king, think of me; for then I shall soon +come to assist you." + +Ginnistan exchanged forms with the mother, whereat the father seemed +much pleased. The scribe was rejoiced that they were both going away; +particularly when Ginnistan on taking leave presented him with a +pocket-book, in which the chronicles of the house were circumstantially +recorded. Yet the little Fable remained a thorn in his eye, and he +desired nothing more for his peace and content, than that she might +also be among the number of the travellers. Sophia pronounced a +blessing upon the two who knelt down before her, and gave them a vessel +full of water from the bowl. The mother was very sad. Little Fable, +would willingly have gone with them; the father was too much occupied +out of doors, to concern himself much about it. It was night when they +left, and the moon stood high in the sky. + +"Dear Eros," said Ginnistan, "we must hasten, that we may come to my +father, who has not seen me for a long time, and has fought for me +anxiously everywhere upon earth. Do you not see his emaciated face? +Your testimony will cause him to recognise me in this strange form." + + Love hies along in dusky ways, + The moon his only light; + The shadow-realm itself displays, + And all uncouthly dight. + + An azure mist with golden rim + Around him floats in play, + And quickly Fancy hurries him + O'er stream and land away. + + His teeming bosom beating is + In wondrous spirit-flow; + A presagement of future bliss + Bespeaks the ardent glow. + + And Longing sat and wept aloud, + Nor knew that Love was near; + And deeper in her visage ploughed + The hopeless sorrow's tear. + + The little snake remaineth true, + It pointeth to the North, + And both in trust and courage new + Their leader follow forth. + + Love hieth through the hot Simoon, + And through the vapor-land, + Enters the halo of the moon, + The daughter in his hand. + + He sat upon his silver throne, + Alone with his unrest; + When heareth he his daughter's tone, + And sinketh on her breast. + +Eros stood deeply moved by their tender embrace. At length the +tottering old man collected himself and bade his guest welcome. He +seized his great horn and blew a mighty blast. The ringing echo +vibrated through the ancient castle. The pointed towers with their +shining balls, and the deep black roofs, trembled. + +The castle stood firm, for it had settled upon the mountain from beyond +the deep sea. + +Servants were gathering from every quarter; their peculiar forms and +dresses delighted Ginnistan infinitely, and did not frighten the brave +Eros. They first greeted her old acquaintances, and all appeared before +them in new strength, and in all the glory of their natures. The +impetuous spirit of the flood followed the gentle ebb. The old +hurricanes rested upon the beating breast of the hot, passionate +earthquake. The gentle showers looked around for the many-colored bow +which stood so pallid, far from the sun that most attracts it. The rude +thunder resounded through the play of the lightning, behind the +innumerable clouds which stood in a thousand charms, and allured the +fiery youth. The two sisters Morning and Evening were especially +delighted by their arrival. Tears of tenderness were mingled in their +embraces. Indescribable was the appearance of this wonderful court. The +old king could not gaze long enough upon his daughter. She was tenfold +happy in her father's castle, and could not grow weary of looking at +the well known wonders and rarities. Her joy was unspeakable, when the +king gave her the key to the treasure-chamber, and permission to +arrange there a spectacle for Eros, which could entertain him until the +signal for breaking up. The treasure-place was a large garden, the +variety and richness of which surpassed all description. Between the +immense cloud-trees lay innumerable air-castles of surprising +architecture, each succeeding one more costly than the others. Large +herds of little sheep with silver-white, golden, and rose-colored wool, +were wandering about, and the most singular animals enlivened the +grove. Remarkable pictures stood here and there, and the festive +processions, the strange carriages which met the eye on every side, +continually occupied the attention. The beds were filled with +many-colored flowers. The buildings were crowded with every species of +weapon, and furnished with the most beautiful carpets, tapestry, +curtains, drinking-cups, and all kinds of furniture and utensils +arranged in an endless order. From the hill they saw a romantic region +overspread with cities and castles, temples and sepulchres; every +delight of inhabited plains united to the fertile charms of the +wilderness and the mountain steep. The fairest colors were most happily +blended. The mountain peaks shone like pyramids of fire in their hoods +of ice and snow. The plain lay smiling in the freshest green. The +distance was arrayed in every shade of blue, and from the sombre bosom +of the sea waved countless pennons of varied hue from numerous fleets. +In the distance a shipwreck was to be seen; here in the foreground a +rustic cheerful meal of country people; there the terribly grand +eruption of a volcano, the desolating earthquake; and in front beneath +shady trees a loving couple in sweet caresses. Further on was a fearful +battle, and beyond it a theatre full of the most ludicrous masks. In +another spot of the foreground was a youthful corpse upon its bier, to +which an inconsolable lover clung, and the weeping parents at its side; +beyond was seen a lovely mother with her child at her breast, and +angels sitting at her feet, and gazing from the branches over head. The +series were continually shifting, and at last all flowed together into +one mysterious picture. Heaven and earth were in complete uproar. All +terrors had broken loose. A mighty voice cried, "to arms!" A terrible +host of skeletons, with black standards, rushed like a tempest from the +dark mountain, and attacked the life which was feasting merrily in +youthful bands among the open plains, anticipating no danger. Terrible +tumults arose, the earth trembled, the tempest howled, fearful meteors +lighted the gloom. With unheard of cruelty, the host of phantoms tore +the tender limbs of the living. A funeral pyre towered on high, and +amid shrieks which made the blood run cold, the children of life were +consumed by the flames. Suddenly a milk-blue stream broke on all sides +from the dark heap of ashes. The phantoms hastened to fly, but the +flood visibly swelled and swallowed up the detestable brood. Soon all +fear was allayed. Heaven and earth flowed together in sweet music. A +flower, wonderful in beauty, floated glittering upon the gentle +billows. A shining bow half circled the flood, and on both sides of it +sat celestial shapes on splendid thrones. Sophia sat highest with the +bowl in her hands, near a majestic man, whose locks were bound by a +garland of oak leaves, and who bore in his right hand a palm of peace +instead of a sceptre. A lily leaf bent over the chalice of the floating +flower. The little Fable sat upon it, and sang to the harp the sweetest +song. In the chalice sat Eros himself, bending over a beautiful, +slumbering maiden who held him fast embraced. A smaller blossom closed +around them both, so that from the thighs they seemed changed to a +flower. + +Eros thanked Ginnistan with thousand fold rapture. He embraced her +tenderly, and she returned his caresses. Wearied by the fatigues of the +journey, and by the manifold objects he had seen, he longed for quiet +and rest. Ginnistan, who felt deeply attracted by the beautiful youth, +took good care not to mention the draught which Sophia had given him. +She led him to a retired bath, and removed his armor. Eros dipped +himself in the dangerous waves, and came out again in rapture. +Ginnistan chafed dry his strong limbs knit with youthful vigor. He +thought with ardent longing of his beloved, and embraced the charming +Ginnistan in sweet delusion. He surrendered himself carelessly to his +tenderness, and fell asleep on the fair bosom of his guide. + +In the mean time a sad change had taken place at home. The scribe had +involved the domestics in a dangerous conspiracy. His fiendish mind had +long sought occasion to obtain possession of the government of the +house, and to shake off his yoke. Such an occasion he had found. His +party first seized the mother and put her in irons. The father also was +deprived of everything but bread and water. The little Fable heard the +noise in the chamber. She hid herself behind the altar; and observing +that there was a concealed door on its farther side, she opened it +quickly, and discovered a staircase leading from it. She closed the +door behind her, and descended the stairs in the dark. The scribe +rushed furiously into the chamber, in order to revenge himself on the +little Fable, and to take Sophia captive. Neither of them was to be +found. The bowl was also missing, and in his wrath he broke the altar +into a thousand pieces, without, however, discovering the secret +staircase. + +Fable continued to descend for a considerable time. At length she +reached an open space adorned with splendid colonnades, and closed by a +great door. All objects there were dark. The air was like one immense +shadow; and a darkly beaming body stood in the sky. One could easily +distinguish objects, because each figure exhibited a peculiar shade of +black, and cast behind a pale glimmer; light and shade seemed to have +changed their respective offices. Fable rejoiced to find herself in a +new world. She regarded everything with childish curiosity. At length +she reached the door, before which upon a massive pedestal reclined a +beautiful Sphinx. + +"What dost thou seek?" said the Sphinx. + +"My possession," replied Fable. + +"Whence comest thou hither?" + +"From olden times." + +"Thou art yet a child." + +"And will be a child forever." + +"Who wilt assist thee?" + +"I will assist myself. Where are my sisters?" asked Fable. + +"Everywhere, and yet nowhere," answered the Sphinx. + +"Dost thou know me?" + +"Not as yet." + +"Where is Love?" + +"In the imagination." + +"And Sophia?" + +The Sphinx murmured inaudibly to itself, and rustled its wings. + +"Sophia and Love!" cried Fable triumphantly, and passed the door. She +stepped into an immense cave, and joyfully reached the aged sisters, +who were pursuing their wonderful occupation, by the poor light of a +dimly burning lamp. They seemed not to notice their little guest, who +busily hovered around them with artless caresses. At last one of them +with a crabbed face roughly rebuked her. + +"What wouldst thou here, idler? Who has admitted thee? Thy childish +steps disturb the quiet flame. The oil is burning to waste. Canst thou +not be seated, and occupy thyself usefully?" + +"Beautiful aunt," said Fable, "I am no idler. But I cannot help +laughing at your door-keeper. She would have taken me to her breast; +but seemed to have eaten too much to rise. Let me sit before the door, +and give me something to spin. I cannot see well here; and when I am +spinning I must be suffered to sing and talk, which might disturb your +serious cogitations." + +"Thou shalt not go outside; but through a cleft of the rock a beam from +the upper world pierces into a side-chamber, there thou mayest spin if +thou knowest how. Here lie great heaps of old ends, spin them together. +But have a care; for if thou spin lazily or break the threads, they +will wind round and choke thee." + +The old woman laughed maliciously and resumed her labor. Fable gathered +up an armful of the threads, took distaff and spindle, and tripped +singing into the chamber. She looked out through the cleft, and saw the +constellation of Phoenix. Rejoicing at the happy omen, she began to +spin industriously, leaving the chamber door ajar, and sang in subdued +tones:-- + + Within your cells awaken, + Children of olden time; + Be every bed forsaken, + The morn begins to climb. + + Your threadlets I am weaving + Into a single thread: + In _one_ life be ye cleaving,-- + The times of strife are sped. + + Each one in all is living, + And all in each beside; + _One_ heart its pulses giving. + From _one_ impelling tide. + + Yet spirits only are ye. + But dream and witchery. + Into the cavern fare ye, + And vex the holy Three. + +The spindle turned with incredible velocity between her little feet, +while she twisted the thread with both her hands. During the song, +innumerable little lights became visible, which passed through the +chink of the door, and spread through the cave in hideous masks. The +elders continued spinning gloomily, and in expectation of the cries of +distress of little Fable. But how terrified were they when a horrible +nose appeared over their shoulders, and when upon looking around they +beheld the whole cave filled with fearful forms, engaged in a thousand +fantastic tricks. They shrunk together, howled with frightful voices, +and would have turned to stone through fear, had not the scribe entered +the cave bearing with him a mandrake root. The lights concealed +themselves in the rocky cleft, and the cave became entirely +illuminated, while the black lamp was extinguished, having been +overturned in the confusion. The old hags were glad when they heard the +scribe approaching; but were full of wrath against the little Fable. +They called her forth, rebuked her terribly, and forbade her spinning +longer. The scribe smiled grimly; because he supposed that now the +little Fable was in his power, and said, + +"It is good that thou art here, and art kept employed. I hope that thou +receivest thy share of punishment. Thy good spirit has guided me +hither. I wish thee a long life and many pleasures." + +"I thank thee for thy good will," said Fable; "lo, what a good age is +approaching thee. The hourglass and sickle only are wanting to make +thee like in looks to the brother of my beautiful aunts. If thou +needest quills, only pluck a handful of soft down from their cheeks." + +The scribe threatened to attack her. She smiled and said, + +"If thy beautiful locks and spiritual eyes are dear to thee, beware! +think of my nails, thou hast not much more to loose." + +He turned with stifled rage towards the old women, who were rubbing +their eyes, and searching for their distaffs. They could not find them +because the lamp was extinguished; but they vented their rage against +Fable. + +"Do let her go," said he spitefully, "that she may catch tarantulas to +prepare your oil. I will tell you for your consolation that Eros is +restlessly on the wing, and by his industry will keep your scissors +busy. His mother, who has so often compelled you to spin the lengthened +threads, will become a prey to the flames to-morrow." + +He laughed with joy, when he saw that Fable wept at this news, and +giving a piece of the root to the old people, departed chuckling. The +sisters, though supplied with oil, angrily ordered Fable to go in +search of tarantulas, and Fable hastened away. She pretended to open +the door, slammed it noisily, and crept stealthily to the back of the +cave, where a ladder was hanging down. She ascended quickly, and soon +came to an aperture, which opened into the apartment of Arcturus. + +The king sat surrounded by his counsellors when Fable appeared. The +Northern Crown adorned his head. He held the lily in his left hand, the +balance in his right. The eagle and the lion sat at his feet. + +"Monarch," said Fable, bending reverently before him, "Hail to thine +eternal throne! Joyful news for thy wounded heart! An early return of +wisdom! Awakening to eternal peace! Rest to the restless love! +Glorification of the heart! Life to antiquity and form to the future!" + +The king touched her open forehead with the lily, "Whatever thou +demandest shall be granted thee." + +"Three times shall I petition, and when I come the fourth time. Love +will be before the door. Now give me the lyre." + +"Eridanus," cried the king, "bring the lyre hither." + +Eridanus streamed forth murmuring from his concealment, and Fable +snatched the lyre from his boiling flood. + +Fable played a few prophetic strains. She sipped from the cup which the +king ordered to be handed her, and hastened away with many thanks. She +glided with a sweet, elastic motion over the icy sea, drawing joyful +music from the strings. + +The ice resounded melodiously beneath her step. She fancied the voices +of the rocks of sorrow were the voices of her children seeking her, and +she answered in a thousand echoes. + +Fable soon reached the shore. She met her mother who appeared wasted +and pale; she had grown thin and sad, and her noble features revealed +the traces of a hopeless sorrow and of touching constancy. + +"What has happened to thee, dear mother?" asked Fable; "thou seemest to +me entirely changed; I should not know thee except by internal signs. I +hoped once more to refresh myself at thy breast; I have pined after +thee for a long time." + +Ginnistan caressed her tenderly, and became calm and serene. + +"I thought from the first," said she, "that the scribe would not take +thee captive. It refreshes me to see thee. Poor and pinched are my +affairs now; but I console myself with hoping that it will soon end. +Perhaps I am about to have a moment of rest. Eros is near; and when he +sees thee and thou speakest with him, he may tarry some time. In the +mean time come to my bosom. I will give thee what I have." + +She took Fable upon her lap, proffered her breast, and while smiling +upon the little one who was enjoying her feast, continued, "I am myself +the cause that Eros has become so wild and inconstant. But yet I repent +it not, for those hours have made me immortal. I believe that his fiery +caresses have strangely transformed him. Long, silver-white wings +covered his glittering shoulders, and the charming fulness of his form. +The strength, which swelling forth had so suddenly changed him from a +youth to a man, seemed entirely to have withdrawn into his wings, and +he had become again a boy. The silent glow of his face became like the +dazzling fire of a will-o'-the-wisp, his holy seriousness had changed +to dissembled roguishness, the significant calm to childish +irresolution, the noble carriage to a droll agility. I felt +irresistibly attracted to the wanton boy by an ardent passion, and +suffered with pain his sneering scorn, and his indifference to my most +touching prayers. I perceived that my form was changed. My careless +serenity had fled, and its place filled with sorrowful anxiety and +shrinking timidity. I would have hidden myself with Eros from all eyes. +I had not the heart to meet his offending eye, and was overwhelmed with +shame and humility. I had no thoughts but for him; and would have given +my life to free him from his wantonness. Deeply as he had hurt my +feelings, I was compelled to worship him. + +"Since the time when he discovered himself and escaped me, I have +continually been in pursuit of him, though I have conjured him +touchingly and with hot tears to remain with me. He seems really intent +on persecuting me. As often as I reach him, he flies away again. On +every side his bow deals destruction. I have nought to do but to +console the unhappy, and yet I myself need consolation. The voices of +those who call me point out to me his path, and their mournful +complaints, when I am compelled to leave them, deeply cut my heart. The +scribe pursues us in a terrible rage, and revenges himself upon the +poor wounded ones. The fruit of that mysterious night was a multitude +of strange children, who look like their grandfather, and are named +after him. Being winged like their father, they ever accompany him, to +torment the poor ones whom his arrow wounds. But there comes the +joyous procession. I must away. Farewell, sweet child. His presence +excites my passion. Be happy in thy designs." + +Eros passed on without Ginnistan, who hastened near him, beseeching but +one look of tenderness. But he turned kindly towards Fable, and his +little companions danced joyously around her. Fable was glad to see her +foster-brother again, and sang a merry song to her lyre. Eros seemed as +if desiring to recall some recollections of the past, and let fall his +bow upon the ground. Ginnistan could now embrace him, and he suffered +her tender caresses. At last Eros began to nod; he clung to Ginnistan's +bosom and fell asleep, spreading over her his wings. The weary +Ginnistan full of rejoicing turned not her eye from the graceful +sleeper. During the song, tarantulas came forth from all sides, which +drew a shining net over the blades of grass, and with sprightly +movements accompanied the music upon the threads. Fable now consoled +her mother, and promised to her speedy assistance. From the rocks fell +back the soft echo of the music, and lulled the sleeper. From the +carefully preserved vessel Ginnistan sprinkled some drops into the air, +and the most delightful dreams descended upon them. Fable took the +vessel and continued her journey. Her strings never were at rest, and +the tarantulas followed the enchanting sounds upon their fast-woven +threads. + +She soon saw from afar the lofty flame of a funeral pile, which rose +high above the green forest. Mournfully she gazed towards heaven; yet +rejoiced when she saw Sophia's blue veil which was waving over the +earth, forever covering the unsightly tomb. The sun stood in heaven, +fiery-red with rage. The powerful flame imbibed its stolen light; and +the more fiercely the sun strove to preserve itself, ever more pale and +spotted it became. The flame grew whiter and more intense, as the sun +faded. It attracted the light more and more strongly; the glory around +the star of day was soon consumed, and it stood there a pale, +glimmering disk, every new agitation of spite and rage aiding the +escape of the flying light-waves. Finally, nought of the sun remained +but a black, exhausted dross, which fell into the sea. The splendor of +the flame was beyond description. It slowly ascended, and bore towards +the North. Fable entered the court, which was desolate; the house had +fallen. Briars were growing in the crevices of the window frames, and +vermin of every kind were creeping about on the broken staircase. She +heard a terrible noise in the chamber; the scribe and his associates +had been devoting her mother to the flames, but had been greatly +terrified by the sudden destruction of the sun. + +They had in vain struggled to extinguish the flame, and had not escaped +unhurt. They vented their pain and anxiety in fearful curses and +wailings. But more terrified were they, when Fable entered the chamber, +and rushed upon them with a furious cry, letting her anger loose upon +them. She stepped behind the cradle, and her pursuers rushed madly into +the web of the tarantulas, which revenged themselves by a thousand +wounds. The whole crowd commenced a frantic dance, to which Fable +played a merry tune. With much laughter at their ludicrous +performances, she approached the fragments of the altar, and cleared +them away, in order to find the hidden staircase, which she descended +with her train of tarantulas. + +The Sphinx asked, "what comes more suddenly than the lightning?" + +"Revenge," said Fable. + +"What is most transient?" + +"Wrongful possession." + +"Who knows the world?" + +"He who knows himself." + +"What is the eternal mystery?" + +"Love." + +"With whom does it rest?" + +"With Sophia." + +The Sphinx bowed herself mournfully, and Fable entered the cave. + +"Here I bring you tarantulas," said she to the old sisters, who again +had lighted their lamp and were busily employed. They were overwhelmed +with fear, and one of them rushed upon her with the shears to murder +her. Unwarily she stepped upon a tarantula, which stung her in the +foot. She cried piteously; the others came to her assistance, and were +likewise stung by the irritated reptiles. They could not now attack +Fable, and danced wildly about. + +"Spin directly for us," cried they angrily to the little one, "some +light dancing dresses. We cannot move in this stiff raiment, and are +nearly melted with heat. Thou must soak the thread in spider's juice +that it may not break, and interweave flowers, which have grown in +fire; otherwise thou shalt die." + +"Right willingly," said Fable, and retired to the side-chamber. + +"I will get you three fine large flies," said she to the spiders, which +had fixed their airy web about the ceiling and the walls; "but you must +spin for me immediately three beautiful light dresses. I will bring you +directly the flowers which must be worked upon them." + +The spiders were ready and began to weave busily. Fable glided up the +ladder, and proceeded to Arcturus. + +"Monarch," said she, "the wicked dance, the good rest. Has the flame +arrived?" + +"It has come," said the King. "Night is passed and the ice melts. My +spouse appears in the distance. My enemy is overwhelmed. All things +begin to exist. As yet I do not dare to show myself, for I am not alone +King. Ask what thou wilt." + +"I need," said Fable, "some flowers that have grown in fire. I know +thou hast a skilful gardener, who understands rearing them." + +"Zinc," cried the King, "give us flowers." + +The flower gardener stepped from the ranks, bringing at vessel full of +fire, and sowed shining seeds therein. Soon flowers sprang up. Fable +gathered them in her apron, and returned. The spiders had been +industrious, and nothing more was needed but to attach the flowers, +which they immediately began to do with much taste and skill. Fable +took good care not to pull off the ends which were yet hanging to the +weavers. + +She carried the dresses to the wearied dancers, who had sunk down +dripping with perspiration, and were taking a moment's breath after +their unwonted exertions. She dextrously undressed the haggard +beauties, who were not backward in scolding their little servant, and +put on the new dresses, which fitted excellently. While thus employed, +she praised the charms and lovely character of her mistresses, who +seemed really pleased with her flatteries, and the splendor of their +new appearance. Having in the mean time rested themselves, they +recommenced their mazy whirl, whilst they deceitfully promised little +Fable a long life and great rewards. Fable returned to the chamber, and +said to the spiders, "you can now eat in peace the flies which I hare +brought to your web." + +The spiders were soon impatient at being pulled back and forth by the +distracted movements of the dancers, for the ends of the threads were +still in them. They therefore ran out and attacked the dancers, who +would have defended themselves with the shears, had not Fable quietly +removed them. They therefore submitted to their hungry companions; who +for a long time had not tasted so rich a feast, and who sucked them to +the marrow. Fable looked out from the cleft in the rock, and saw +Perseus with his great shield of iron. The shears flew to it, and Fable +asked him to trim with them the wings of Eros, and then with his shield +to immortalize the sisters, and finish the great work. + +She now left the subterraneous kingdom, and flew rejoicing to +Arcturus's palace. + +"The flax is spun. The lifeless are again unsouled. The living will +govern, the dead will shape and use. The Inmost is revealed, and the +Outermost is hidden. The curtain will soon be lifted, and the play +commence. Once more I petition thee; then will I spin days of +eternity." + +"Happy child," cried the monarch with emotion, "thou art our +deliverer." + +"I am only Sophia's god-daughter," said the little one. "Permit +Turmaline, the flower gardener, and Gold to accompany me. I must gather +up the ashes of my foster-mother; the old Bearer must again arise, that +the earth may not lie in chaos, but renew her motion." + +The king called all three, and commanded them to accompany the little +Fable. The city was light, and in the streets was the bustle of +business. The sea broke roaring upon the high cliff, and Fable went +over in the king's chariot with her companions. Turmaline carefully +gathered the dispersing ashes. They traversed the earth till they came +to the old giant, upon whose shoulders they descended. He seemed lamed +by the touch, and could not move a limb. Gold placed a coin in his +mouth, and the flower-gardener pushed a dish under his loins. Fable +touched his eyes and poured out her vessel upon his forehead. Soon as +the water flowed from his eyes into his mouth, and over his body into +the dish, a flash of life made all his muscles quiver. He opened his +eyes and rose vigorously. Fable jumped up to her companion on the +swelling ground, and kindly bade him good morning. + +"Art thou again here, dear child?" said the old man, "thou of whom I +have so continually dreamed? I always thought that thou wouldst appear +before the earth and my eyes became too heavy. I have indeed been +sleeping long." + +"The earth is again light, as it always was for the good," said Fable. +"Old times are returning. Shortly thou wilt again be among thine old +acquaintances. I will spin out for thee joyous days, nor shalt thou +want an help-meet. Where are our old guests, the Hesperides?" + +"With Sophia. Their garden will soon bloom again, its golden fruits +send forth their odor. They are now busy gathering together the fading +plants." + +Fable departed, and hastened to the house. It was entirely in ruins. +Ivy was winding round the walls. Tall bushes shaded the ancient court, +and the soft moss enwrapt the old steps. She entered the chamber. +Sophia stood by the altar which had been rebuilt. Eros was lying at her +feet in full armor, more grave and noble than ever. A splendid lustre +hung from the ceiling. The floor was paved with variegated stones, +describing a great circle around the altar, which was graced with noble +and significant figures. Ginnistan bent weeping over a couch, on which +the father appeared lying in deep slumber. Her blooming grace was +infinitely enhanced by an expression of devotion and love. Fable handed +to the holy Sophia, who tenderly embraced her, the urn in which the +ashes were gathered. + +"Lovely child," said she, "thy faithfulness and assiduity have earned +for thee a place among the stars. Thou hast elected the immortal within +thee. Ph[oe]nix is thine. Thou wilt be the soul of our life. Now arouse +the bridegroom. The herald calls, and Eros shall seek and awaken +Freya." + +Fable rejoiced unspeakably at these words. She called her companions +Gold and Zinc, and approached the couch. Ginnistan awaited full of +expectation the issue of her enterprise. Gold melted coin, and filled +with a glittering flood the space in which the father was lying. Zinc +wound a chain around Ginnistan's bosom. The body floated upon the +trembling waves. "Bow thyself, dear mother," said Fable, "and lay thy +hand upon the heart of thy beloved." + +Ginnistan bowed. She saw her image many times reflected. The chain +touched the flood, her hand his heart; he awoke and drew the enraptured +bride to his bosom. The metal became a clear and liquid mirror. The +father arose; his eyes flashed lightning; and though his shape was +speakingly beautiful, yet his whole frame appeared a highly susceptible +fluid, which betrayed every affection in manifold and enchanting +undulations. + +The happy pair approached Sophia, who pronounced the words of +consecration upon them, and charged them faithfully to consult the +mirror, which reflected everything, in its real shape, destroyed every +delusion, and ever retained the primeval type of things. She now took +the urn, and shook the ashes into a bowl upon the altar. A soft +bubbling announced the dissolution, and a gentle wind waved the +garments and locks of the bystanders. Sophia handed the bowl to Eros, +who proffered it to the others. All tasted the divine draught, and +received with unspeakable joy the Mother's friendly greeting in their +soul of souls. She appeared to each one of them, and her mysterious +presence seemed to transfigure all. + +Their expectations were fulfilled and surpassed. All perceived what +they had wanted, and the chamber became an abode of the blessed. + +Sophia said, "the great secret is revealed to all, and remains forever +unfathomable. Out of pain is the new world born, and the ashes are +dissolved into tears for a draught of eternal life. The heavenly mother +dwells in all, that every child may be born immortal. Do you not feel +the sweet birth in the beating of your heart?" + +She poured from the bowl the remainder upon the altar. The earth +trembled to its centre. Sophia said, "Eros, hasten with thy sister to +thy beloved. Soon shall ye see me again." + +Fable and Eros quickly departed with their train. Then was scattered +over, the earth a mighty spring. Everything arose and stirred with +life. The earth floated farther beneath the veil. The moon and the +clouds were trailing with joyous tumult towards the North. The king's +castle beamed with a lordly splendor over the sea, and upon its +battlements stood the king in full majesty with all his suite. On every +side they saw dust-whirls, in which familiar shapes seemed represented. +Numerous bands of young men and maidens appeared hastening to the +castle, whom they welcomed with exaltation. Upon many a hill sat happy +couples but just awakened, in long-lost embraces; and they thought the +new world was a dream, nor could they cease assuring themselves of its +reality. + +Flowers and trees sprang up in verdant vigor. All things seemed +inspired. All spoke and sang. Fable saluted on all sides her old +acquaintances. With friendly greeting animals approached awakened men. +The plants welcomed them with fruits and odor, and arrayed themselves +most tastefully. No weight lay longer on any human bosom, and all +burdens became the solid ground on which men trod. They came to the +sea. A ship of polished steel lay fastened to the shore. They stepped +aboard, and cast off the rope. The prow turned to the north, and the +ship cleaved the amorous waves as if on pinions, The sighing sedge +ceased its murmur, as it glides gently to the shore. They hastened up +the broad stairs. Love admired the royal city and its opulence. In the +court the living fountain was sparkling; the grove swayed to and fro in +sweetest tones, and a wondrous life seemed to gush and thrive in its +swelling foliage, its twinkling fruits and blossoms. The old hero +received them at the door of the palace. + +"Venerable man," said Fable, "Eros needs thy sword. Gold has given him +a chain, one end of which reaches down to the sea, the other encircles +his breast. Take it in thy hand, and lead us to the hall where the +princess rests." Eros took the sword from the hand of the old man, +pressed the handle to his breast, and pointed the blade before him. The +folding doors of the hall flew open, and enraptured Eros approached the +slumbering Freya. Suddenly a mighty shock was felt. A bright spark sped +from the princess to the sword, the sword and the chain were illumined; +the hero supported the little Fable who was almost sinking. The crest +of Eros waved on high. "Throw away thy sword," exclaimed Fable, "and +awake thy beloved." + +Eros dropped the sword, flew to the princess and kissed her sweet lips +vehemently. She opened her full, dark eyes, and recognised the loved +one. A long kiss sealed their eternal alliance. + +The king descended from the dome, hand in hand with Sophia. The stars +and the spirits of nature followed in glittering ranks. A day +unspeakably serene filled the hall, the palace, the city, and the sky. +An innumerable multitude poured into the spacious, royal hall, and with +silent devotion saw the lovers kneel before the king and the queen, who +solemnly blessed them. The king took the diadem from his head, and +bound it round the golden locks of Eros, The old hero relieved him of +his armor, and the king threw his mantle around him. Then he gave him +the lily from his left hand, and Sophia fastened a costly bracelet +around the clasped hands of the lovers, and placed her crown upon the +brown locks of Freya. + +"Hail to our ancient rulers!" exclaimed the people. "They have always +dwelt among us, and we have not known them! All hail! They will ever +rule over us. Bless us also!" + +Sophia said to the new queen, "Throw the bracelet of your alliance into +the air, that the people and world may remain devoted to you." The +bracelet dissolved in the air, and light halos were soon seen around +every head; and a shining band encircled city, sea, and earth, which +were celebrating an eternal Spring-festival. Perseus entered, bearing a +spindle and a little basket. He carried the latter to the new king. + +"Here," said he, "are the remains of thine enemies." + +A stone slab chequered with white and black squares lay in the basket, +with a number of figures of alabaster and black marble. + +"It is the game of chess," said Sophia; "all war is confined to this +slab and to these figures. It is a memento of the olden, mournful +times." + +Perseus turned to Fable and gave her the spindle. "In thy hands shall +this spindle make us eternally rejoice, and out of thyself shalt thou +spin an indissoluble, golden thread." + +Phoenix flew with melodious rustling to her feet, and spread his wings +before her; she placed herself upon them, and hovered over the throne, +without again descending. She sang a heavenly song and began to spin, +whilst the thread seemed to wind forth from her breast. The people fell +into new raptures, and all eyes were fastened on the lovely child. New +shouts of exultation came from the door. + +The old Moon entered with her wonderful court, and behind her the +people bore in triumph Ginnistan and her bridegroom. Garlands of +flowers were wound around them; The royal family received them with the +most hearty tenderness, and the new royal pair proclaimed them their +viceregents upon earth. + +"Grant me," said the Moon, "the Kingdom of the Fates, whose wondrous +mansions have arisen from the earth, even in the court of the palace. I +will delight you therein with spectacles, in which the little Fable +will assist me." + +The king granted the prayer; the little Fable nodded pleasantly, and +the people rejoiced at the novel and entertaining pastime. The +Hesperides congratulated them upon the new accession, and prayed that +their garden might be protected. The king gave them welcome; and so +followed joyful events in rapid succession. In the mean while, the +throne had imperceptibly changed to a splendid marriage-bed, over which +Ph[oe]nix and the little Fable were hovering in the air. Three +Caryatides of dark porphyry supported the head, while its foot rested +upon a Sphinx of basalt. The king embraced his blushing bride. The +people followed his example, and kissed each other. Nothing was heard +but tender names and a noise of kisses. + +At length Sophia said, "The Mother is among us. Her presence will +render us eternally happy. Follow us into our dwelling. In the temple +will we dwell forever, and treasure up the secret of the world." + +Fable spun diligently, and sang with a clear voice: + + Established is Eternity's domain, + In Love and Gladness melts the strifeful pain; + The tedious dream of grief returneth never; + Priestess of hearts Sophia is forever. + + + + + + + HENRY OF OFTERDINGEN. + + + PART SECOND. + THE FULFILMENT. + + + + + + THE FULFILLMENT. + + + + + THE CLOISTER, OR FORE-COURT. + + + ASTRALIS. + + Upon a summer morning was I young; + Then felt I for the first my own life-pulse, + And while in deeper raptures Love dissolved, + My sense of life unfolded; and my longing + For more entire and inward dissolution, + Was every moment more importunate. + My being's plastic power is delight; + I am the central point, the holy source, + Whence every longing stormfully outflows, + And where again, though broken and dispersed, + Each longing calmly mingles into one. + Ye know me not, ye saw me not becoming.-- + Who witnessed me upon that happy eve, + When, a night-wanderer yet, I found at length + For the first time myself? Then flowed there not + A shudder of sweet rapture over you? + Entirely hid in honey-cups I lay; + I breathed a fragrance, calmly waved the flowers + In golden morning air. An inner gushing + Was I, a gentle striving, all things flowed + Through me and over me, and light I rose. + Then sank the first dust-seed within the shell,-- + That glowing kiss when risen from the feast! + Backward I ebbed upon my inmost life-- + It was a flash,--my powers already swell, + And move the tender petals and the bell, + And swiftly, from beneath my being's spring, + To earthly senses thoughts were blossoming. + Yet was I blind, but stars began to sweep + In light across my being's wondrous deep; + Myself I found as of a distant clime, + Echo of olden as of future time. + From sadness, love and hopefulness created, + The growth of memory was but a flight, + And mid the dashing billows of delight, + Then too the deepest sorrow penetrated.-- + The world in bloom around the hillock clings,-- + The Prophet's words were changed to double wings; + Matilde and Henry were alone united + Into one form, into one rapture plighted; + New-born I rose, to Heaven gladly leaping, + For then the earthly destinies were blent + In one bright moment of transfigurement; + And Time, no more his ancient title keeping, + Again demanded what it once had lent. + + Forth breaks the new creation here, + Eclipsing the glow of the brightest sphere. + Behold through ruins ivy-streaming + A new and wondrous future gleaming, + And what was common hitherto, + Appeareth marvellous and new. + Love's realm beginneth to reveal, + And busy Fable plies her wheel. + To its olden play each nature returns, + And a mighty spell in each one burns; + And so the Soul of the world doth hover + And move through all, and bloom forever. + For each other all must strive, + One through the other must ripen and thrive; + Each is shadowed forth in all, + While itself with them is blending, + And eagerly into their deeps doth fall, + Its own peculiar essence mending, + And myriad thoughts to life doth call. + + The dream is World, the world is Dream, + And what already past may seem, + Itself is yet in distance moulding; + But Fancy first her court is holding, + Freely the threads at her pleasure weaving, + Much veiling here, much there unfolding, + And then in magical vapor leaving. + Life and death, rapture and sadness, + Are here in inmost sympathy,-- + Who yieldeth himself to love's deep madness, + From its wounds is never free. + In pain must every bond be riven + That winds around the inner eye, + The orphaned heart with woe have striven, + Ere it the sullen world can fly. + The body melteth in its weeping, + Its bitter sighs the bosom burn; + The world a grave becometh, keeping + The heart, like ashes in an urn. + +In deep thought a pilgrim was walking along a narrow foot-path which +ran up the mountain side. Noon had passed. A strong wind whistled +through the blue air. Its dull and ever-changing sounds lost themselves +as they came. Had it perhaps flown through the regions of childhood, or +through other whispering lands? They were voices whose echo sounded in +his heart; yet the pilgrim did not appear to recognise them. He had now +reached the mountain where he hoped to find a limit to his journey. +Hoped? No longer did he cherish hope. Terrible anxiety, the sterile +coldness of indifferent despair, urged him to seek the wild horrors of +the mountains; the most toilsome path soothed the tumult of his soul. +He was weary and silent. He noticed not the gradual accumulation of +nature around him, as he sat upon a stone and cast his eye backward. It +seemed as if he were or had been dreaming. A splendor whose limit he +could not define opened before him. His cheeks were soon wet with +tears, as his feelings suddenly broke loose; he would have wept himself +away in the distance, that no trace of his existence might remain. Amid +his deep-drawn sighs he seemed to recover; the soft, serene air +penetrated him. The world was again present to his senses, and thoughts +of other times began to speak to him consolation. + +In the distance lay Augsburg with its towers; far on the horizon +glimmered the mirror of the fearful, mysterious stream. The mighty +forest bowed with grave sympathy towards the wanderer; the notched +mountain rested meaningly upon the plain, and both seemed to say, +"Hasten on, O stream, thou dost not escape us. I will follow thee with +winged ships. I will break thee, restrain thee, and swallow thee up in +my bosom! O pilgrim, confide in us! Even he is our enemy whom we +ourselves begat; let him make haste with his booty, he escapes us not." + +The poor pilgrim thought of olden times and their unspeakable delights; +but how heavily did those dear recollections pass through his mind. The +broad hat concealed a youthful face; it was pale as a night-flower. The +balmy sap of youthful life had changed to tears, his swelling breath to +deep sighs; an ashy paleness had usurped all color. + +On one side upon the declivity of the hill, he thought he saw a monk +kneeling under an old oak tree. "Might not that possibly be the old +chaplain?" he conjectured, without much surprise at the idea. The monk +appeared larger and more unshapely the nearer he approached. He now +discovered his mistake. It was an isolated rock, over which a tree was +bending. With silent emotion he clasped the stone in his arms, and with +loud sobbing pressed it to his breast. "O that yet your speech was +preserved, and that the Holy Mother would give me some token! Am I then +entirely miserable and abandoned? Dwells there then in this desert no +holy one who would lend me his prayer? Dear father, at this time pray +thou for me!" + +As he so thought to himself, the tree began to wave; the rock emitted a +hollow sounds and as from a great depth beneath the earth, clear, sweet +voices were heard singing:-- + + Her heart was full of gladness, + For gladness knew she best; + She nothing knew of sadness, + With darling at her breast. + She showered him with kisses, + She kissed his cheek so warm,-- + Encircled was with blisses + Through darling's fairy form. + +The soft voices seemed to sing with infinite pleasure. They repeated +the verse several times. All was quiet again, when the astonished +pilgrim heard some one speaking to him from the tree:-- + +"If thou wilt play a song in honor of me upon thy lute, a little maiden +will come for it; take her with thee and leave her not. Think of me +when thou comest to the emperor. I have chosen this abode, that I may +remain with my little child; let a strong, warm dwelling be built for +me here. My little one has conquered death; trouble not thyself, I am +with thee. Yet a while thou wilt remain upon earth, but the little girl +will console thee, until thou also diest and enterest into our joy." + +"It is Matilda's voice!" exclaimed the pilgrim, and fell upon his knees +in prayer. Then pierced through the branches a lengthened ray unto his +eyes, and through it in the distance he beheld a small but wonderful +splendor, not to be described, only to be depicted with a skilful +pencil. It was composed of extremely delicate figures; and the most +intense pleasure and joy, even a heavenly happiness, everywhere rayed +forth from it, so that even the inanimate vessels, the chiselled +capitals, the drapery, the ornaments, everything visible, seemed not so +much like works of art, as to have grown and sprung up together like +the full-juiced herb. Most beautiful human forms were passing to and +fro, and appeared kind and gracious to each other beyond measure. +Before all was standing the pilgrim's beloved one, and it seemed as if +she would have spoken to him; yet nothing could be heard, and the +pilgrim only regarded with ardent longing her pleasant features, as she +beckoned to him so kindly and smilingly, and laid her hand upon her +heart. The sight was infinitely consoling and refreshing, and the +pilgrim remained along while steeped in holy rapture, until the vision +disappeared. The sacred beam had drawn up all pain and trouble from his +heart, so that his mind was again clear and cheerful, his spirit free +and buoyant as before. Nought remained but a silent, inward longing, +and a sound of sadness in the spirit's depths; but the wild torments of +solitude, the sharp anguish of unspeakable loss, the terrible sense of +a mournful void, had passed away with all earthly faintness, and the +pilgrim again looked forth upon a world teeming with expression. Voice +and language renewed their life within him, all things seemed more +known and prophetic than before, so that death appeared to him a high +revelation of life, and he viewed his own fleeting existence with +child-like and serene emotion. The future and the past had met within +him, and formed an eternal union. He stood far from the present, and +the world was now for the first time dear to him, when he had lost it, +and was there only as a stranger, who would yet wander but a while +through its diversified and spacious halls. It was now evening, and the +earth lay before him like an old beloved dwelling, which he had found +again after long absence. A thousand recollections recurred to him; +every stone, every tree, every hillock, made itself recognised. Each +was the memorial of a former history. + +The pilgrim snatched his lute, and sang:-- + + Love's tears, love's glowing, + Together flowing, + Hallow every place for me, + Where Elysium quenched my longing, + And in countless prayers are thronging, + Like the bees around this tree. + + Gladly is it o'er them bending, + Thither wending, + Them protecting from the storm; + Gratefully its leaves bedewing, + And its tender life renewing, + Wonders will the prayers perform. + + E'en the rugged rock is sunken, + Joy-drunken, + At the Holy Mother's feet. + Are the stones devotion keeping, + Should not man for her be weeping + Tears and blood in homage meet? + + The afflicted hither stealing + Should be kneeling; + Here will all obtain relief. + Sorrow will no more be preying, + Joyfully will all be saying: + Long ago we were in grief. + + On the mountain, walls commanding + Will be standing; + In the vales will voices cry, + When the bitter times are waking: + Let the heart of none be aching, + Thither to those places fly! + + Oh, thou Holy Virgin Mother! + With another + Heart the sorrowing wanders hence. + Thou, Matilda, art revealing + Love eternal to my feeling, + Thou, the goal of every sense. + + Thou, without my questions daring, + Art declaring + When I shall attain to thee. + Gaily in a thousand measures + Will I praise creation's treasures, + Till thou dost encircle me. + + Things unwonted, wonders olden! + To you beholden, + Ever in my heart remain. + Memory her spell is flinging, + Where light's holy fountain springing + Washed away the dream of pain. + +During this song he had noticed nothing, but as he looked up, there +appeared a young girl standing upon the rock, who kindly greeted him +like an old acquaintance, and invited him to go to her dwelling, where +she had already prepared an evening meal for him. Her whole behavior +and carriage towards him were friendly. She asked him to tarry a few +moments, while she stepped under the tree, and looking up with an +indescribable smile, shook many roses from her apron upon the grass. +She knelt silently by his side, but soon arose and led the pilgrim on. + +"Who has told thee about me?" asked the pilgrim. + +"Our mother." + +"Who is thy mother?" + +"The Mother of God." + +"How long hast thou been here?" + +"Since I came from the tomb." + +"Hast thou already been dead?" + +"How could I else be living?" + +"Livest thou entirely alone here?" + +"An old man is at home, yet I know many more who have lived." + +"Wouldst thou like to remain with me?" + +"Indeed I love thee." + +"How long hast thou known me?" + +"O! from olden times; my former mother, too, told me about thee." + +"Hast thou yet a mother?" + +"Yes; but really the same." + +"What is her name?" + +"Maria." + +"Who was thy father?" + +"The Count of Hohenzollern." + +"Him I also know." + +"Thou shouldst know him well, for he is also thy father." + +"My father is in Eisenach." + +"Thou hast more parents." + +"Whither are we going?" + +"Ever homewards." + +They had now reached a roomy spot in the wood, where some decayed +towers were standing beyond deep ravines. Early shrubbery wound about +the old walls, like a youthful garland around the silvery head of an +old man. While contemplating the gray stones, the tortuous clefts, and +the tall, ghastly, shapes of rock, one looked into immensity of time, +and saw the most distant events, collected in short but brilliant +minutes. So appears to us the infinite space of heaven, clad in dark +blue; and like a milky glimmer, stainless as an infant's cheeks, +appears the most distant array of its ponderous and mighty worlds. They +walked through an old doorway, and the pilgrim was not a little +astonished when he found himself entirely surrounded by strange plants, +and saw all the charms of the most beautiful garden hidden beneath the +ruins. A small stone house built in recent style, with large windows, +lay in the rear. There stood an old man behind the broad-leafed +shrubbery, employed in tying the drooping branches to some little +props. His female guide led the pilgrim to him, and said, "Here is +Henry, after whom you have inquired so often." + +As the old man turned around, Henry fancied that he saw the miner +before him. + +"This is the physician Sylvester," said the little girl. + +Sylvester was glad to see him, and said, "it is a long time since I saw +your father. We were both young then. I was quite solicitous to teach +him the treasures of the Fore-time, the rich legacies bequeathed to us +by a world too early separated from us. I noticed in him the tokens of +a great artist; his eye flashed with the desire to become a correct +eye, a creative instrument; his face indicated inward constancy and +persevering industry. But the present world had already taken hold of +him too deeply; he would not listen to the call of his own nature. The +stern hardihood of his native sky had blighted in him the tender buds +of the noblest plants; he became an able mechanic, and inspiration +seemed to him but foolishness." + +"Indeed," said Henry, "I often observed a silent sadness within him. He +always labored from mere habit, and not for any pleasure. He seems to +feel a want, which the peaceful quiet and comfort of his life, the +pleasure of being honored and beloved by his townsmen, and consulted in +all important affairs of the city, cannot satisfy. His friends consider +him very happy; but they know not how weary he is of life, how empty +the world appears to him, how he longs to depart from it; and that he +works so industriously not so much for the sake of gain, as to +dissipate such moods." + +"What I am most surprised at," replied Sylvester, "is that he has +committed your education entirely into the hands of your mother, and +has carefully abstained from taking any part in your development, nor +has ever held you to any fixed occupation. You can happily say that you +have been permitted to grow up free from all parental restraints; for +most men are but the relics of a feast which men of different appetites +and tastes have plundered." + +"I myself know not," replied Henry, "what education is, except that +derived from the life and disposition of my parents, or the instruction +of my teacher, the chaplain. My father with all his cool and sturdy +habits of thought, which leads him to regard all relations like a piece +of metal or a work of art, yet involuntarily and unconsciously exhibits +a silent reverence and godly fear before all incomprehensible and lofty +phenomena, and therefore looks upon the blooming growth of the child +with humble self-denial. A spirit is busy here, playing fresh from the +infinite fountain; and this feeling of the superiority of a child in +the loftiest matters, the irresistible thought of an intimate guidance +of the innocent being who is just entering on a course so critical, the +impress of a wondrous world, which no earthly currents have yet +obliterated, and then too the sympathizing memory of that golden age +when the world seemed to us clearer, kindlier, and more unwonted, and +the almost visible spirit of prophecy attended us,--all this has +certainly won my father to a system the most devout and discreet." + +"Let us seat ourselves upon the grass among the flowers," said the old +man interrupting him. "Cyane will call us when our evening meal is +ready. I pray you continue your account of your early life. We old +people love much to hear of childhood's years, and it seems as if I +were drinking the odor of a flower, which I had not inhaled since my +infancy. Tell me first, however, how my solitude and garden please you, +for these flowers are my friends; my heart is in this garden. You see +nothing that loves me not, that is not tenderly beloved. I am here in +the midst of my children, like an old tree from whose roots, has +sprouted this merry youth." + +"Happy father," said Henry, "your garden is the world. The ruins are +the mothers of these blooming children; this manifold animate creation +draws its support from the fragments of past time. But must the mother +die, that the children may thrive? Does the father remain sitting alone +at their tomb, in tears forever?" + +Sylvester gave his hand to the sighing youth, and then arose to pluck a +fresh forget-me-not, which he tied to a cypress branch and brought to +him. The evening wind waved strangely in the tops of the pines which +stood beyond the ruins, and sent over their hollow murmur. Henry hid +his face bedewed with tears upon the neck of the good Sylvester, and +when he looked again, the evening star arose in full glory above the +forest. + +After some silence, Sylvester began; "You would probably like to be at +Eisenach among your friends. Your parents, the excellent countess, your +father's upright neighbors, and the old chaplain make a fair social +circle. Their conversation must have produced an early influence upon +you, particularly as you were the only child. I also imagine the +country to be very striking and agreeable." + +"I learn for the first time," said Henry, "to esteem my native country +properly, since my absence, and the sight of many other lands. Every +plant, every tree, every hill and mountain has its own horizon, its +peculiar landscape, which belongs to it, and explains its whole +structure and nature. Only men and animals can visit all countries; all +countries are theirs. Thus together they form one great region, one +infinite horizon, whose influence upon men and animals is just as +visible, as that of a more narrow circuit upon the plant. Hence men who +have travelled, birds of passage, and beasts of prey, are distinguished +among other faculties, for a remarkable intelligence. Yet they +certainly possess more or less susceptibility to the influence of these +circles, and of their varied contents and arrangement. The attention +and composure necessary to contemplate properly the alternation and +connexion of things, and then to reflect upon and compare them, are in +fact wanting to most men. I myself often feel how my native land has +breathed upon my earliest thoughts imperishable colors, and how its +image has become a peculiar feature of my mind, which I am ever better +explaining to myself, the deeper I perceive that fate and mind are but +names of one idea." + +"Upon me," said Sylvester, "living nature, the emotive outer-garment of +a landscape, has always produced a most powerful effect. Especially I +am never tired of examining most carefully the different natures of +plants. All productions of the earth are its primitive language; every +new leaf, every particular flower, is everywhere a mystery, which +presses outward; and since it cannot move itself at love and joy, nor +come to words, becomes a mute, quiet plant. When we find such a flower +in solitude, is it not as if everything about it were glorified, and as +if the little feathered songsters loved most to linger near it? One +could weep for joy, and separated from the world, plant hand and foot +in the earth, to give it root, and never abandon the happy +neighborhood. Over all the sterile world is spread this green, +mysterious carpet of love. Every Spring it is renewed, and its peculiar +writing is legible only to the loved one, like the nosegay of the +East; he will read forever, yet never enough, and will perceive daily +new meanings, new delightful revelations of loving nature. This +infinite enjoyment is the secret charm, which the survey of the earth's +surface has for me, while each region solves other riddles, and has +always led me to divine whence I came and whither I go." + +"Yes," said Henry, "we began to speak of childhood's years, and of +education, because we are in your garden; and the revelation of +childhood, the innocent world of flowers, imperceptibly brought to our +thoughts and lips the recollection of old acquaintanceship. My father +is also very fond of gardening, and spends the happiest hours of his +life among the flowers. This has certainly kept his heart open towards +children, since flowers are their counterpart. The teeming opulence of +infinite life, the mighty powers of later times, the splendor of the +end of the world, and the golden future which awaits all things, we +here see closely entwined, but still to be most plainly and clearly in +tender youthfulness. All-powerful love is already working, but does not +yet enflame; it is no devouring fire, but a melting vapor; and however +intimate the union of the tenderest souls may be, yet it is accompanied +by no intense excitement, no consuming madness, as in brutes. Thus is +childhood below here nearest to the earth; as on the other hand clouds +are perhaps the types of the second, higher childhood, of the paradise +regained; and hence they so beneficently shed their dew upon the +first." + +"There is indeed something very mysterious in the clouds," said +Sylvester, "and certain overcloudings often have a wonderful influence +upon us. Trailing over our heads, they would take us up and away in +their cold shades; and when their form is lovely and varied, like an +outbreathed wish of our soul, then the clearness and the splendid +light, which reigns upon earth, is like a presage of unknown, ineffable +glory. But there are also dark, solemn, and fearful overcloudings, in +which all the terrors of old night appear to threaten. The sky seems as +if it never would be clear again; the serene blue is hidden; and a wan +copper hue upon the dark gray ground awakens fear and anxiety in every +bosom. Then when the blasting beams shoot downwards, and with fiendish +laughter the crashing thunder-peals fall after them, we are struck to +our souls; and unless there arises the lofty consciousness of our moral +superiority, we fancy that we are delivered over to the terrors of hell +and all the powers of darkness. They are echoes of the old, unhuman +nature, but awakening voices too of the higher nature of divine +conscience within us. The mortal totters to its base; the immortal +grows more serene and recognises itself." + +"Then," said Henry, "when will there be no more terror or pain, want or +evil in the universe?" + +"When there is but one power, the power of conscience; when nature +becomes chaste and pure. There is but one cause of evil,--common +frailty,--and this frailty is nothing but a weak moral susceptibility, +and a deficiency in the attraction of freedom." + +"Explain to me the nature of Conscience." + +"I were God, could I do so; for when we comprehend it. Conscience +exists. Can you explain to me the essence of poetry?" + +"A personality cannot be distinctly defined." + +"How much less then the secret of the highest indivisibility. Can music +be explained to the deaf?" + +"If so, would the sense itself be part of the new world opened by it? +Does one understand facts only when one has them?" + +"The universe is separated into an infinite system of worlds, ever +encompassed by greater worlds. All senses are in the end but one. One +sense conducts, like one world, gradually to all worlds. But everything +has its time and its mode. Only the Person of the universe can detect +the relations sustained by our world. It is difficult to say, whether +we, within the sensuous limits of corporeity, could really augment our +world with new worlds, our sense with new senses, or whether every +increase of our knowledge, every newly acquired ability, is only to be +considered as the development of our present organization." + +"Perhaps both are one," said Henry. "For my own part, I only know that +Fable is the collective instrument of my present world. Even +Conscience, that sense and world-creating power, that germ of all +Personality, appears to me like the spirit of the world-poem, like the +event of the eternal, romantic confluence of the infinitely mutable +common life. + +"Dear pilgrim," Sylvester replied, "the Conscience appears in every +serious perfection, in every fashioned truth. Every inclination and +ability transformed by reflection into a universal type becomes a +phenomenon, a phase of Conscience. All formation tends to that which +can only be called Freedom; though by that is not meant an idea, but +the creative ground of all being. This freedom is that of a guild. The +master exercises free power according to design, and in defined and +well digested method. The objects of his art are his, and he can do +with them as he pleases, nor is he fettered or circumscribed by them. +To speak accurately, this all-embracing freedom, this mastership of +dominion, is the essence, the impulse of Conscience. In it is revealed +the sacred peculiarity, the immediate creation of Personality, and +every action of the master, is at once the announcement of the lofty, +simple, evident world--God's word." + +"Then is that, which I remember was once called morality, only religion +as Science, the so called theology in its proper sense? Is it but a +code of laws related to worship as nature is to God, a construction of +words, a train of thoughts, which indicates, represents the upper +world, and extends it to a certain point of progress--the religion for +the faculty of insight and judgment--the sentence, the law of the +solution and determination of all the possible relations which a +personal being sustains?" + +"Certainly," said Sylvester, "Conscience is the innate mediator of +every man. It takes the place of God upon earth, and is therefore to +many the highest and the final. But how far was the former science, +called virtue or morality, from the pure shape of this lofty, +comprehensive, personal thought! Conscience is the peculiar essence of +man fully glorified, the divine archetypal man (Urmensch.) It is not +this thing and that thing; it does not command in a common tongue, it +does not consist of distinct virtues. There is but one virtue,--the +pure, solemn Will, which, at the moment of decision chooses, resolves +instantaneously. In living and peculiar oneness it dwells and inspires +that tender emblem, the human body, and can excite all the spiritual +members to the truest activity." + +"O excellent father!" exclaimed Henry, "with what joy fills me the +light which flows from your words! Thus the true spirit of Fable is the +spirit of virtue in friendly disguise; and the proper spirit of the +subordinate art of poetry is the emotion of the loftiest, most personal +existence. There is a surprising selfness (Selbstheit) between a +genuine song and a noble action. The disfranchised conscience in a +smooth, unresisting world, becomes an enchaining conversation, an +all-narrating fable. In the fields and halls of this old world lives +the poet, and virtue is the spirit of his earthly acts and influences; +and as this is the indwelling divinity among men, the marvellous reflex +of the higher world, so also is Fable. How safely can the poet now +follow the guidance of his inspiration, or if he possesses a lofty, +transcendent sense, follow higher essences, and submit to his calling +with child-like humility. The higher voice of the universe also speaks +within him, and cries with enchanting words to kindlier and more +familiar worlds. As religion is related to virtue, so is inspiration to +mythology; and as the history of revelation is treasured in sacred +writings, so the life of a higher world expresses itself in mythology +in manifold ways, in poems of wonderful origin. Fable and history +sustain to each other the most intimate relations, through paths the +most intricate, and disguises the most extraordinary; and the Bible and +mythology are constellations of one orbit." + +"What you say is perfectly true," said Sylvester; "and now you can +probably comprehend that all nature subsists by the spirit of virtue +alone, and must ever become more permanent. It is the all-inflaming, +the all-quickening light in the embrace of earth. From the firmament, +that lofty dome of the starry realm, down to the ruffling carpet of the +varied meadow, all things will be sustained by it, united to us and +made comprehensible; and by it the unknown course of infinite nature's +history will be conducted to its consummation." + +"Yes; and you have often as beautifully shown, before now, the +connexion between virtue and religion. Everything, which experience and +earthly activity embrace, forms the province of Conscience, which +unites this world with higher worlds. With a loftier sense religion +appears, and what formerly seemed an incomprehensible necessity of our +inmost nature, a universal law without any definite intent, now becomes +a wonderful, domestic, infinitely varied, and satisfying world, an +inconceivably interior communion of all the spiritual with God, and a +perceptible, hallowing presence of the only One, or of his Will, of his +Love in our deepest self." + +"The innocence of your heart," Sylvester replied, "makes you a prophet. +All things will be revealed to you, and for you the world and its +history will be transformed into holy writ, just as the sacred writings +evince how the universe can be revealed in simple words, or narratives, +if not directly, yet mediately by hinting at and exciting higher +senses. My connexion with nature has led me to the point where the joy +and inspiration of language have brought you. Art and history have made +me acquainted with nature. My parents dwelt in Sicily, not far from the +famous Mount AEtna. Their dwelling was a comfortable house in the +ancient style, hidden by old chestnut trees near the rocky shore of the +sea, and affording the attraction of a garden stocked with various +plants. Near were many huts, in which dwelt fishermen, herdsmen, and +vine-dressers. Our chambers and cellar were amply provided with +everything that supports and gives enjoyment to life, and by well +bestowed labor, our arrangements were agreeable to the most refined +senses. Moreover there was no lack of those manifold objects, whose +contemplation and use elevate the mind above ordinary life and its +necessities, preparing it for a more suitable condition, and seem to +promise and procure for it the pure enjoyment of its full and proper +nature. You might have seen there marble statues, storied vases, small +stones with most distinct figures, and other articles of furniture, the +relics perhaps of other and happier times. Also many scrolls of +parchment lay in folds upon each other, in which were treasured, in +their long succession of letters, the knowledge, sentiments, histories, +and poems of that past time, in most agreeable and polished +expressions. The calling of my father, who had by degrees become an +able astrologer, attracted to him many inquiring visiters, even from +distant lands; and as the knowledge of the future seemed to men a rare +and precious gift, they were led to remunerate him richly for his +communication; so that he was enabled, by the gifts he received, to +defray the expenses of a comfortable and even luxurious style of life." + + * * * * * + +The author advanced no farther in the composition of this second part, +which he called "The Fulfilment," as he had called the first "The +Expectation," because all that was left to anticipation in the latter +was explained and fulfilled in the former. It was the design of the +author to write, after the completion of Ofterdingen, six romances for +the statement of his views of physical science, civil life, commerce, +history, political science, and of love; as his views of poetry had +been given in Ofterdingen. I need not remind the intelligent reader, +that the author in this poem has not adhered very closely to the time +or the person of that well known Minnesinger, though every part brings +him and his time to remembrance. It is an irreparable loss, not only to +the friends of the author, but to the art itself, that he could not +have finished this romance, the originality and great design of which +would have been better developed in the second than in the first part. +For it was by no means his object to represent this or that occurrence, +to embrace one side of poetry, and explain it by figures and narrative; +but it was his intention, as is plain from the last chapter of the +first part, to express the real essence of poetry and explain its +inmost aim. + +To this end nature, history, war, and civil life, with their usual +events, are all transformed to poetry, as that is the spirit which +animates all things. + +I shall endeavor as far as possible, from my memory of conversations +with my friend, and from what I can discover in the papers he has left, +to give the reader some idea of the plan and subject-matter of the +second part of this work. + +To the poet, who has apprehended the essence of his art at its central +point, nothing appears contradictory or strange; to him all riddles are +solved. By the magic of fancy he can unite all ages and all worlds; +wonders vanish, and all things change to wonders. So is this book +written; and the reader will find the boldest combinations, +particularly in the tale which closes the first part. Here are renewed +all those differences by which ages seem separated, and hostile worlds +meet each other. The poet wished particularly to make this tale the +transition-point to the second part, in which the narrative soars from +the common to the marvellous, and both are mutually explained and +restored; the spirit of the prologue in verse should return at each +chapter, and this state of mind, this wonderful view of things should +be permanent. By this means the invisible world remains in eternal +connexion with the visible. This speaking spirit is poetry itself; but +at the same time the sidereal man who is born from the love of Henry +and Matilda. In the following lines, which should have their place in +Ofterdingen, the author has expressed in the simplest manner the +interior spirit of his works: + + When marks and figures cease to be + For every creature's thoughts the key, + When they will even kiss or sing + Beyond the sage's reckoning, + When life, to Freedom will attain, + And Freedom in creation reign, + When Light and Shade, no longer single, + In genuine splendor intermingle, + And one in tales and poems sees + The world's eternal histories,-- + Then will our whole inverted being + Before a secret word be fleeing. + +The gardener, who converses with Henry, is the same old man who had +formerly entertained Ofterdingen's father. The young girl, whose name +is Cyane, is not his child, but the daughter of the Count of +Hohenzollern. She came from the East; and though it was at an early +age, yet she can recollect her home. She has long lived a strange life +in the mountains, among which she was brought up by her deceased +mother. She has lost in early life a brother, and has narrowly escaped +death in a vaulted tomb; but an old physician rescued her in some +peculiar way. She is gentle, and kind, and very familiar with the +supernatural. She tells the poet her history as she had heard it once +from her mother. She sends him to a distant cloister, whose monks seem +to be a kind of spirit-colony; everything is like a mystic, magic +lodge. They are the priests of the holy fire in youthful minds. He +hears the distant chant of the brothers; in the church itself, he has a +vision. With an old monk Henry converses about death and magic, has +presentiment of death--and of the philosopher's stone; visits the +cloister-garden and the churchyard, concerning which latter I find the +following poem:-- + + Praise ye now our still carousals, + Gardens, chambers decked so gaily, + Household goods as for espousals, + Our possessions praise. + Mew guests are coming daily, + Some late, the others early; + On the spacious hearth forever + Glimmereth a new life-blaze. + + Thousand vessels wrought with cunning, + Once bedewed with thousand tears, + Golden rings and spurs and sabres, + Are our treasury; + Many gems of costly mounting + Wist we of in dark recesses, + None can all our wealth be counting, + Counts he even ceaselessly. + + Children of a time evanished, + Heroes from the hoary ages, + Starry spirits high excelling, + Wondrously combine, + Graceful women, solemn sages, + Life in all its motley stages, + In one circle here are dwelling, + In the olden world recline. + + None is evermore molested; + None who joyously hath feasted, + At our sumptuous table seated, + Wisheth to be gone. + Hushed is sorrow's loud complaining, + Wonders are no longer greeted, + Bitter tears no longer raining, + Hour-glass ever floweth on. + + Holy kindness deeply swelling, + In blest contemplation buried, + Heaven in the soul is dwelling + With a cloudless breast; + In our raiment long and flowing + Through spring-meadows are we carried, + Where rude winds are never blowing, + In this land of perfect rest. + + Pleasing lure of midnight hours + Quiet sphere of hidden powers, + Rapture of mysterious pleasure, + These alone our prize; + Ours alone that highest measure, + Where ourselves in streamlets pouring, + Then in dew-drops upward soaring, + Drink we as we flow or rise. + + First with us grew life from love; + Closely like the elements + Do we mangle Being's waves, + Foaming heart with heart. + Hotly separate the waves, + For the strife of elements + Is the highest life of love, + And the very heart of hearts. + + Whispered talk of gentle wishes + Hear we only, we are gazing + Ever into eyes transfigured, + Tasting nought but mouth and kiss; + All that we are only touching, + Change to balmy fruits and glowing, + Change to bosoms soft and tender, + Offerings to daring bliss. + + The desire is ever springing, + On the loved one to be clinging, + Round him all our spirit flinging, + One with him to be,-- + Ardent impulse ever heeding + To consume in turn each other, + Only nourished, only feeding + On each other's ecstasy. + + So in love and lofty rapture + Are we evermore abiding, + Since that lurid life subsiding, + In the day grew pale; + Since the pyre its sparkles scattered, + And the sod above us sinking, + From around the spirit shrinking + Melted then the earthly veil. + + Spells around remembrance woven, + Holy sorrow's trembling gladness, + Tone-like have our spirits cloven, + Cooled their glowing blood. + Wounds there are, forever paining; + A profound, celestial sadness, + Within all our hearts remaining, + Us dissolveth in one flood. + + And in flood we forth are gushing, + In a secret manner flowing + To the ocean of all living, + In the One profound; + And from out His heart while rushing, + To our circle backward going, + Spirit of the loftiest striving + Dips within our eddying round. + + All your golden chains be shaking + Bright with emeralds and rubies, + Flash and clang together making, + Shake with joyous note. + From the damp recesses waking, + From the sepulchres and ruins, + On your cheeks the flush of heaven, + To the realm of Fable float. + + O could men, who soon will follow + To the spirit-land, be dreaming + That we dwell in all their joyance, + All the bliss they taste, + They would burn with glad upbuoyance + To desert the life so hollow,-- + O, the hours away are streaming, + Come, beloved, hither haste. + + Aid to fetter the Earth-spirit, + Learn to know the sense of dying, + And the word of life discover; + Hither turn at last. + Soon will all thy power be over, + Borrowed light away be flying, + Soon art fettered, O Earth-spirit, + And thy time of empire past. + +This poem was perhaps a prologue to a second chapter. Now an entirely +new period of the work would have opened; the highest life proceeding +from the stillest death; he has lived among the dead and conversed with +them. Now the book would have become nearly dramatic, the epic tone, as +it were, uniting together and simply explaining the single scenes. +Henry suddenly finds himself in Italy, distracted, rent with wars; he +sees himself the leader of an army. All the elements of war play in +poetic colors. With an irregular band, he attacks a hostile city; here +appears in episode the love of a noble of Pisa for a Florentine maiden. +War-songs--"a great war, like a duel, noble, philosophical, human +throughout. Spirit of the old chivalry; the tournament. Spirit of +bacchanalian sadness.[4] Men must fall by each other,--nobler than to +fall by fate. They seek death.--Honor, fame, is the warrior's joy and +life. The warrior lives in death and like a shade. Desire for death is +the warrior-spirit. Upon the earth is war at home; it must be upon +earth."--In Pisa Henry finds the Son of Frederick the Second, who +becomes his confidential friend. He also travels to Loretto. Several +songs were to follow here. + +The poet is cast away on the shores of Greece by a tempest. The old +world with its heroes and treasures of art fills his mind. He converses +with a Grecian about morality. Everything from ancient times is present +to him; he learns to understand the old pictures and histories. +Conversation upon Grecian polity and mythology. + +After becoming acquainted with the heroic age and with antiquity, he +visits the Holy Land, for which he had felt so great a longing from his +youth. He seeks Jerusalem, and acquaints himself with Oriental poetry. +Strange events among the infidels detain him in desert regions; he +discovers the family of the eastern girl (see Part I.): the manners and +life of nomadic tribes.--Persian tales, recollections of the remotest +antiquity. The book during all these various events was to retain its +characteristic hue, and recall to mind the blue flower: throughout, the +most distant and distinct traditions were to be knit together, Grecian, +Oriental, Biblical, Christian, with reminiscences of and references to +both the Indian and Northern mythology.--The Crusades.--Life at sea.-- +Henry visits Rome. Roman history. + +Sated with his experiences, Henry at length returns to Germany. He +finds his grandfather, a profound character; Klingsohr is in his +society. An evening's conversation with them. + +Henry joins the court of Frederick, and becomes personally acquainted +with the emperor. The court would have made a worthy appearance, +portraying the best, greatest, and most remarkable men, collected from +the whole world, whose centre is the emperor himself. Here appears the +greatest splendor, and the truly great world. German character and +German history are explained. Henry converses with the emperor +concerning government and the empire; obscure hints of America and the +Indies. The sentiments of a prince,--the mystic emperor,--the book, "De +tribus impostoribus." + +Henry having now, in a new and higher method than in the Expectation, +lived through and observed nature, life, and death, war, the East, +history, and poetry, turns back into his mind as to an old home. Front +his knowledge of the world and of himself arises the impulse for +expression; the wondrous world of fable now draws the nearest, because +the heart is fully open to its comprehension. + +In the Manesian collection of Minnesingers, we find a rather obscure +rival song of Henry of Ofterdingen and Klingsohr with other poets; +instead of this, jousting, the author would have represented another +peculiar poetic contest, the war of the good and evil principles in +songs of religion and irreligion, the invisible world contrasted with +the visible. "Out of Enthusiasm the poets in bacchanalian intoxication +contend for death." The sciences are poetized; mathematics also enters +the lists. The plants of India are commemorated in song; new +glorification of Indian mythology. + +This is Henry's last act upon the earth; the transition to his own +glorification. This is the solution of the whole work, the _Fulfilment_ +of the allegory which concludes the First Part. Everything is explained +and completed, supernaturally and yet most naturally. The partition +between Fiction and Truth, between the Past and the Present has fallen +down. Faith, Fancy, and Poetry lay open the internal world. + +Henry reaches Sophia's land, in Nature, such as might be allegorically +painted; after having conversed with Klingsohr concerning certain +singular signs and omens. These are mostly awakened by an old song +which he hears by chance, and in which is described a deep water in a +secluded spot. The song excites within him long forgotten +recollections; he visits the water, and finds a small golden key, which +a raven had stolen from him some time before, and which he had never, +expected to find. An old man had given it to him soon after Matilda's +death, with the injunction that he should carry it to the emperor, who +would tell him what to do with it. Henry seeks the emperor, who is +highly rejoiced and gives him an ancient manuscript, in which it is +written that the emperor should give it to that man who ever brought +him a golden key; that this man would discover in a secret place an old +talisman, a carbuncle for his crown, in which a space was yet left for +it. The place itself is also described in the parchment. After reading +the description, Henry takes the road to a mountain, and meets on the +way the stranger who first told him and his parents concerning the blue +flower; he converses with him about Revelation. He enters the mountain +and Cyane trustingly follows him. + +He soon reaches that wonderful land in which air and water, flowers and +animals, differ entirely from those of earthly nature. The poem at the +same time changes in many places to a play. "Men, beasts, plants, +stones and stars, the elements, sounds, colors, meet like one family, +act and converse like one race. Flowers and brutes converge concerning +men. The world of fable is again visible; the real world is itself +regarded as a fable." He finds the blue flower; it is Matilda, who +sleeps and has the carbuncle. A little girl, their child, sits by a +coffin, and renews his youth. "This child is the primeval world, the +close of the golden time." "Here the Christian religion is reconciled +with the Heathen. The history of Orpheus, of Psyche, and others are +sung." + +Henry plucks the blue flower, and delivers Matilda from her +enchantment, but she is lost to him again; he becomes senseless through +pain, and changes to a stone. "Edda (the blue flower, the Eastern +Maiden, Matilda) sacrifices herself upon the stone; he is transformed +to a melodious tree. Cyane hews down the tree and burns herself with +him. He becomes a golden ram. Edda, Matilda, is obliged to sacrifice +it. He becomes a man again. During these metamorphoses he has the very +strangest conversations." + +He is happy with Matilda, who is both the Eastern Maiden and Cyane. A +joyous spirit-festival is celebrated. All that has past was Death, the +last dream and awakening. "Klingsohr comes again as king of Atlantis. +Henry's mother is Fancy, his father, Sense. Swaning is the Moon; the +miner is the antiquary and at the same time Iron. The emperor Frederick +is Arcturus. The Count of Hohenzollern and the merchants also return." +Everything flows into an allegory. Cyane brings the stone to the +emperor; but Henry is now himself the poet of the fabulous tale which +the merchants had formerly related to him. + +The blissful land suffers yet again by enchantment, while subjected to +the changes of the Seasons. Henry destroys the realm of the Sun. The +whole work was to close with a long poem, only the beginning of which +was composed. + + + + + THE NUPTIALS OF THE SEASONS. + + + Deep buried in thought stood the new monarch. He was recalling + Dreams of the midnight, and every wonderful tale, + Which gathered he first from the heavenly flower, when stricken + Gently by prophecy, love all-subduing he felt. + He thought still he heard the accents deeply impressive, + Just as the guest was deserting the circle of joy; + Fleeting gleams of the moon illumined the clattering window, + And in the breast of the youth there raged a passionate glow. + Edda, whispered the monarch, what is the innermost longing + In the bosom that loves? What his ineffable grief? + Say it, for him would we comfort, the power is ours, and noble + Be the time when thou art the joy of heaven again.-- + "Were the times not so cold and morose, if were united + Future with Present, and both with the holy Past time; + Were the Spring linked to Autumn, and the Summer to Winter, + Were into serious grace childhood with silver age fused; + Then, O spouse of my heart, would dry up the fountain of sorrow, + Every deep cherished wish would be secured to the soul." + Thus spake the queen, and gladsomely clasped her the radiant beloved: + Thou hast uttered in sooth to me a heavenly word, + Which long ago over the lips of the deep-feeling hovered, + But on thine alone first pure and in season did light. + Quickly drive here the chariot, ourselves we will summon + First the times of the year, then all the seasons of man.-- + + +They ride to the sun, and first bring the Day, then the Night; then to +the North, for Winter, then to the South, to find Summer; from the East +they bring the Spring, from the West the Autumn. Then they hasten after +Youth, next to Age, to the Past and to the Future. + +This is all I have been able to give the reader from my own +recollection, and from scattered words and hints in the papers of my +friend. The accomplishment of this great task would have been a lasting +memorial of a new poesy. In this notice I have preferred to be short +and dry, rather than expose myself to the danger of adding anything +from my own fancy. Perhaps many a reader will be grieved at the +fragmentary character of these verses and words, as well as myself, who +would not regard with any more devout sadness a piece of some ruined +picture of Raphael or Corregio. + + L. TIECK. + + + + NOTES. + + + I. + +This _rifacimento_ of Arion's story is not mere mythological twaddle. +As allegories abound, and as in fact there is a suspicion that the +whole Romance may be only an allegory, an "Apotheosis of Poetry,"--the +reader must keep open his internal eye. + +Arion is the Spirit of Poetry as embodied in any age, whether in a +single voice, or many. This the age always attempts to drown,--seldom +with applause. The sailors are the exponents of an age, or its +critics. In the case of Arion, they belonged to a certain tribe of +Philistines,--not yet extinct.[5] There is a deep significance in the +fact, that they resolutely stopped their ears against the Poet's +song. The treasures of the Poet are his ideas of the good and the +beautiful, which he fetches from his far home; for he comes, "not +in entire forgetfulness." The fact, that Arion preferred jumping +overboard to being converted into a heave-offering, is typical of the +self-extinguishment and natural dissolution of the true soul, born into +a humanity which is not its counterpart, which cannot answer to it. +Those providential dolphins are a grateful posterity, which preserve +not only the Poet's treasures, but his memory. The conflict among the +sailors, too, has a deep meaning, hidden also in that old, wonderful +myth of the Kilkenny cats. + +But an allegory has many sides, like a genuine symphony. Each reader +will interpret all of them best from his own point of view. Should +Henry himself turn out to be Arion, the feat would only be one of +inverted transmigration, and not more extraordinary than the regular +method. + + + II. + +An opportunity is taken to introduce some further remarks of the author +concerning History. They are found among a multitude of fragments, +arranged under the three heads of Philosophical, Critical, and Moral; +an amorphous heap of sayings, generally of great beauty and power. The +present have little connexion with the text, but will be their own +excuse. The total of his remarks will be seen to hint at a theory of +History, with which most school-histories and respectable annals are in +no wise infected. + +'Luck or fate is talent for history. The sense for apprehending +occurrences is the prophetic, and luck the divining instinct. (Hence +the ancients justly considered a man's luck one of his talents.) We +take delight in divination. Romance has arisen from the want of +history. + +'History creates itself. It first arises through the connexion of the +past with the future. Men treat their recollections much too negligently. + +'The historian organizes the historical Essence. The data of history +are the mass, to which the historian gives form, while giving +animation. Consequently history always presupposes the principles of +animation and organization; and where they are not antecedent there can +be no genuine historical _chef d'[oe]uvre_, but only here and there the +traces of an accidental animation, where a capricious genius has ruled. + +'The demand, to consider this present world the best, is exactly +analogous to that which would consider my own wedded wife the best and +only woman, and life to be entirely for her and in her. Many similar +demands and pretensions are there, which he who dutifully acknowledges, +who has a discriminating respect for everything that has transpired, is +historically religious, the absolute Believer and Mystic of history, +the genuine lover of Destiny. Fate is the mysticised history. Every +voluntary love, in the common signification, is a religion, which has +and can have but one apostle, one evangelist and disciple, and can be, +though not necessarily, an extra-religion (Wechsel-religion.) + +'There is a series of ideal occurrences running parallel with reality. +They seldom coincide. Men and chances usually modify the ideal +occurrence, so that it appears imperfect, and its results likewise. +Thus it was in the Reformation. Instead of Protestantism appeared +Lutheranism. + +'What fashions the man, but his _Life-History_? In like manner nothing +fashions great men, but the _World's-History_. + +'Many men live better in the past and future time, than in the present. + +'The Present indeed is not at all comprehensible without the Past, and +without a high degree of culture, an impregnation with the highest +products, with the pure spirits of the present and of previous ages; +all which assimilating guides and strengthens the human prophetic +glance, which is more indispensable to the human historian, to the +active, ideal elaborator of historic facts, than to the grammatical and +rhetorical annalist.' + + + III. + +Novalis seems here to rehearse his whole poetic creed; or rather, he +seems to be reviewing his own poems. What he deprecates, are the faults +he most avoids. He is distinguished for extreme simplicity, both in +style and language; and the thoughts, though lofty and sometimes vast, +are yet fresh, chaste, and comprehensible. They have a domestic +sublimity. They indicate simply an infinite expansion of the poet's +heart, whose mild and primeval denizens are undisturbed by the forced, +the foreign, or the shadowy. They have a oneness of design, and are +finished and luminous to the most minute criticism. If we say that +Novalis wrote as he was inspired, never attempting to superinduce what +was only galvanic upon the true life, and never daring to write when he +was not inspired, we both describe his genius and discover the secret +of his beauty. + +With one or two exceptions, the present romance is an unfavorable +specimen of his poetic powers. The subjects of most of the songs +require only that luminous simplicity alluded to, and are only fine +examples of a lyrical style, with a few glimpses of his true genius. +"Astralis," the poem that introduces the second part, is unlike the +rest of the volume, being an irregular, mystic embodyment of the hero's +destinies,--a recapitulation of the past and a presentiment of the +future. The romance is unfavorable, excepting one or two prose passages +of great sublimity, much resembling the "Hymns to the Night," one or +two of which are given below. The dream at the close of the sixth +chapter may be particularly designated. "The image of Death, and of the +River being the Sky in that other and eternal Country, seems to us a +fine and touching one: there is in it a trace of that simplicity, that +soft, still pathos, which are characteristics of Novalis, and doubtless +the highest of his specially poetic gifts." But it is in his Spiritual +Songs that we gain a glimpse of his true genius. They are eminently +devotional, and indiscriminately addressed to the Father, the Son, and +the Holy Virgin. A translation of the mass of them would form a most +desirable hymn book for the Christian, though, to be sure, it would be +very graceless to supplant worthy old Dr. Watts. But they are very +sweet and touching, and full of pious fervor. We have been struck with +the similarity of their tone to those of George Herbert, who stands +with the Father and the Son at the very door of his heart, with tearful +and familiar supplication for them to enter. + + + "Geusz, Vater, Ihn gewaltig aus, + Gib Ihn aus deinem Arm heraus: + _Nur Unschuld, Lieb' und suesze Scham_ + _Hielt Ihn, dasz er nicht laengst schon kam_. + + "Treib' Ihn von dir in unsern Arm, + _Dasz er von deinem Hauch noch warm_; + In schweren Wolken sammle ihn, + Und lasz Ihn so hernieder ziehn." + + +Among his promiscuous poems is a beautiful lyric, representing the +triumph of Faith over Sorrow, under the symbol of a beautiful child +bringing to him a wand, beneath whose touch the Queen of Serpents +yields to him the "precious jewel." + +The following is the first Hymn to the Night: + +"What living, sense-endowed being loves not, before all the prodigies +of the far extending space around him, the all-rejoicing light with its +colors, its beams and billows, its mild omnipresence, as waking day? +The restless giant-world of the stars, swimming with dancing motion in +its azure flood. Inhales it as its life's inmost soul; the sparkling, +ever-resting stone, the sensitive, imbibing plant, and the wild, +burning, many-shaped animal, inhale it; but before all, the glorious +stranger, with the speaking eyes, the uncertain gait, and the gently +closed, melodious lips. Like a king of earthly nature, it summons each +power to countless transformations, ratifies and dissolves treaties in +infinite number, and suspends its heavenly image on every earthly +being. Its presence alone reveals the wondrous splendor of creation's +realms. + +"I turn aside to the holy, ineffable, mysterious Night. Far away lies +the world, sunk in a depth profound waste and lonely is its place. O'er +the chords of the bosom waveth deep sadness. I will dissolve into dew +drops, and mingle myself with the ashes. Distance of memory, wishes of +youth, dreams of childhood, the short joys and vain hopes of a whole +long life, flit by me in robes of gray, like evening clouds after +sunset. In other spaces Light has pitched its merry tents. Will it +never return to its children, who are waiting for it with the trusting +faith of innocence? + +"What swells now so forebodingly beneath the heart, and swallows up the +soft air of sadness? Hast thou also a pleasure in us, sombre Night? +What bringest thou beneath thy mantle, that with viewless power winds +its way to my soul? A costly balsam is dripping from thy hand, from thy +bunch of poppy. The drooping pinions of the mind thou bearest upward. +Dimly and ineffably we feel ourselves moved; a solemn countenance do I +see, in pleasing terror, that gently and full of devotion bendeth +towards me, and showeth dear youth hid in the infinite locks of the +mother. How poor and childish Light now appears to me! How welcome and +blessed the farewell of day! Only for this, because Night alienates +from thee thy servants, didst thou sow in the regions of space the +luminous balls, to proclaim thy omnipotence, thy return, in the times +of thy absence. More heavenly than yonder twinkling stars appear the +infinite eyes that Night opens in us. Their sight extends farther than +the palest of that numberless host; unbeholden to Light, they gaze +through the depths of a loving spirit, which fills a loftier space with +unspeakable rapture. Praised be the Queen of the world, the high +announcer of holy spheres, the nurse of blessed love! She sends me +thee, O dearly beloved, lovely sun of the Night. Now I awake, for I am +Thine and Mine; thou hast announced to me Night as my life, thou hast +made me a man. Consume my body with a spirit-glow, that in ether I may +mingle more closely with thee, and be thou my bridal night forever." + +The Beloved was Sophia; concerning whom he writes as follows:-- + + "Weissenfels, March 22d, 1797. + +"It is for me a mournful duty to inform you that Sophia is no more. +After unspeakable sufferings, borne with exemplary resignation, she +died on the 10th of March, at half past nine in the morning. She was +born on the 17th of March, 1783, and on the 15th of March, 1795, I +gained from her the assurance, that she would be mine. She has suffered +since the 7th of November, 1795. Eight days before her death I left her +with the strongest conviction, that I should never see her again. I +could not have endured to look impotently upon the terrible struggle of +blooming youth down-stricken, the fearful anguish of the heavenly +creature. Fate have I never feared. For three previous weeks I saw its +menaces. It has become evening about me, whilst I was yet gazing into +the morning-red. My sorrow is boundless, like my love. For three years +had she been my hourly thought. She alone has bound me to life, to my +country, and to my occupations. With her loss I am separated from +everything, for I scarcely have myself any longer. But it has become +evening, and it seems to me, as if I soon were about to depart, and so +would I gladly be tranquil, and see around me only kind, friendly +faces, and live entirely in her spirit, gentle and kindhearted, as she +was. + +"Cherished by me, as my own immortal Sophia, will be the friendship, +the assiduity with which you strove to render her last days serene. +Sophia still treasures your kindnesses with the warmest gratitude, and +I have felt a silent impulse to express to you this gratitude, united +with my own. You will pardon it to my love, when I tell you, that your +attention to Sophia's wishes, and that half year's residence with her, +now first has made you really dear to me.... I must cling to the past, +as I have nothing more to expect from the future. Farewell, and be +happier than + + Your friend, + HARDENBERG." + +But how soon does his grief become holy, and therefore a joy! The +letter is chiefly valuable as an introduction to the third Hymn to the +Night:-- + +"Once as I shed bitter tears, when my hope dissolved into pain flowed +away, and I stood alone by the barren hillock, which hid in a dark, +narrow space the form of my life; alone, as none had been before, +driven by unspeakable anguish, powerless, nothing left but a thought of +misery;--as I then looked about after aid, could neither move forward +nor backward, but clung to a fleeting, extinguished life, with infinite +longing,--then came from the blue distance, from the heights of my old +blessedness, a breath as of twilight, and at once the tie of birth, the +chain of Light, was rent asunder. Away flew the glory of earth, and +with it my sorrow; the sadness rushed together into a new, unfathomable +world; thou, Night's-inspiration, slumber of heaven, camest over me. +Gently the scene rose aloft; above it floated my unfettered, new-born +Spirit The hillock became a dust-cloud, and through it I saw the +transfigured features of my Beloved. Eternity lay in her eyes; I +grasped her hands, and the tears became a glittering, indissoluble tie. +Thousands of years flew away in the distance, like tempest-clouds. Upon +her neck I wept enrapturing tears at the thought of this new life.--It +was the first and only dream, and since then do I feel an eternal, +unchangeable faith in the heaven of Night, and its Sun my Beloved." + +Such is the melting tenderness, which is a chief element of his poetry, +such the cunning drug that embalms his genius! + + + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 1: Maehrchen.] + +[Footnote 2: _Mutter_ or _Metallmutter_ is the gang or matrix that +contains the ore.] + +[Footnote 3: _Maehrchen._] + +[Footnote 4: _Bacchischen Wehmuth_; the sadness that drives to +dissipation, not the Elysium of the morning after.] + +[Footnote 5: The word _Critic_ is derived from the Hebrew word [Hebrew: +krty] _executioner_; collectively, _executioners and runners_, from the +root [Hebrew: krt], _to cut_. Thus it gradually came to mean, to cut +and run. It is somewhat remarkable that the secondary meaning of the +noun is _Philistine_. See Gesenius in voc.; who also adds, "the +conjecture is not improbable that the Philistines sprang from Crete, +and that _Caphtor_ signifies [Greek: Krete]. Comp. Michaelis Spicil. J. +1. p. 292-308. Supplemm. p. 1328." The proverbial character of the +Cretans is well known. + +The Rabbi Ben Hillel, who was of the tribe of Onagrites, defended the +oral traditions of the Jews against certain persons, who were disposed +to sniff somewhat. In his writings, the venerable Rabbi was accustomed +to designate them as Philistines--_mais nous avons change tout +cela_--and, in a felicitous allusion to the ancient narrative, +insinuated that the extraordinary discomfiture of so many Philistines +by a certain jaw-bone was explained upon the well known principle in +Hom[oe]opathy, whereby any nuisance is abated by the application of +homogeneous substances. This was in the infancy of that science. But +the learned Rabbi in his strictures did not anticipate the retort of +his opponent Judas Haggadosh, who called Ben Hillel "_the would-be +jaw-bone._"] + + + + + + + + THE END. + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Henry of Ofterdingen: A Romance., by +Friedrich von Hardenberg + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HENRY OF OFTERDINGEN: A ROMANCE. *** + +***** This file should be named 31873.txt or 31873.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/8/7/31873/ + +Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by the Web Archive + +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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