Goethe's Works illustrated by the best German artists, Volume 5, Part 1

Material Information

Goethe's Works illustrated by the best German artists, Volume 5, Part 1
Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von
Place of Publication:
Philadelphia, Penn.
G. Barrie
Publication Date:
Physical Description:
5 v. in 10 : ill. ; 30 cm.


General Note:
v. 1. The life of Goethe / by Hjalmar H. Boyesen ; Poems (Songs ; Familiar songs ; From Wilhelm Meister ; Ballads ; Antiques ; Elegies ; Epigrams ; The four seasons ; Sonnets ; Miscellaneous poems ; Art ; Parables ; Epigrams ; God und world ; West-Eastern Divan ; Hermann und Dorothea) -- v. 2. Faust ; Egmont ; The natural daughter ; The sorrows of young Werther -- v. 3. Goetz von Berlichingen ; Iphigenia in Tauris ; Torquato Tasso ; Clavigo ; Stella; The brother and sister ; A tale ; The good women ; Reynard the Fox -- v. 4. The recreations of the German emigrants ; Wilhelm Meister's apprenticeship -- v. 5. , pt. 1. Wilhelm Meister's travels --Elective affinities.

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IN the shadow of a mighty rock sat Wil-
helm, at a gloomy and striking spot,
where the steep mountain-path turned sharply
round a corner, and rapidly wound down
into the chasm below. The sun was still high,
and illuminated the tops of the firs in the
rocky valleys at his feet. He was just enter-
ing something in his memorandum-book,
when Felix, who had been clambering about,
came up to him with a stone in his hand.
What do they call this stone? said the
I do not know, replied Wilhelm.
Is it gold that sparkles so in it? said the
Nothing of the kind replied the other;
and now I remember that people call it
cats-gold. *
Cats-gold said the boy, laughing;
Probably because it is false, and because
cats are thought to be false.
I will remember that, said his son, and
put the stone into his leathern wallet; but at
the same time pulled out something else, and
asked, What is this?
* A common name for the mineral mica.
A fruit, replied his father; and to
judge by its scales it ought to be akin to the
It does not look like a cone; why it is
Let us ask the huntsmen: they know the
whole forest and all sorts of fruits; they know
how to sow, to plant, and to wait; then they
let the stems grow and become as big as they
The hunters know everything; yesterday
the postman showed me where a stag had
crossed the road; he called me back and
made me observe the track, as he called it. I
had jumped across it, but now I saw plainly a
pair of claws printed; it must have been a
big stag.
I heard how you were questioning the
He knew a great deal, and yet he is not
a huntsman. But I want to be a huntsman.
It is glorious to be the whole day in the forest,
and to listen to the birds, to know their names
and where their nests are; how to take the
eggs or the young ones; how to feed them,
and when to catch the old ones: all this is so
Scarcely had this been said, when there ap-
peared coming down the rugged path an un-
usual phenomenon. Two boys, beautiful as
the day, in colored tunics, which one might

rather have taken for small shirts girt up,
sprang down one after the other; and Wil-
helm found an opportunity of inspecting
them more closely, as they faltered before j
him, and for a moment stood still. Around *
the head of the elder one waved an abund-
ance of fair locks, which one must needs see
first on looking at him; and next his light-
blue eyes attracted the glance which lost itself
with pleasure in his beautiful figure. The
second, who looked more like a friend than a
brother, was adorned with smooth brown hair,
which hung down over his shoulders, and the
reflection of which seemed to mirror itself in
his eyes.
Wilhelm had not time to contemplate more
closely these two extraordinary, and in such a
wilderness quite unexpected beings, when he
heard a manly voice shouting down in a per-
emptory yet kindly manner from behind the
corner of the rock: Why are you standing
still? Do not stop the way for us!
Wilhelm looked up; and if the children
had caused him to wonder, what now met his
eyes filled him with astonishment. A strong
and vigorous, but not too tall, young man,
lightly clad, with brown complexion and black
hair, stepped firmly yet carefully down the
rocky path, leading after him a donkey, which
first displayed its own sleek and well-trimmed
head, and then the beautiful burden which it
carried. A gentle, lovable woman was sitting
in a large finely-mounted saddle; within a
blue mantle, which was wrapped round her,
she held a latelv-born infant, which she
pressed to her bosom and regarded with in-
describable love. The same thing occurred
to the guide as to the children: he hesitated
for a moment when he saw Wilhelm. The
animal slackened its pace, but the descent was
too steepthe passers-by could not stop, and
Wilhelm with wonder saw them disappear be-
hind the projecting wall of rock.
Nothing was more natural, than that this
unwonted sight should snatch him from his
meditations. He stood up in curiosity and
looked down from his place into the depth to
see whether they would not somewhere or
other come into sight again. And he was
just on the point of descending himself to
greet these strange wanderers, when Felix
came up and said:
Father, may I not go with these children
to their house? They want to take me with
them. You must come too, the man said to
me. Come! They are waiting down yonder.
I will speak to them, answered Wilhelm.
He found them at a place where the road
was less precipitous, and he devoured with his
eyes the wonderful forms which had so much
attraCled his attention. But there were one
or two other special circumstances, which be-
fore now it had not been possible for him to
The young and aCtive man had in faCt an
adze on his shoulder, and a long, thin, iron
measuri ng-square.
The children carried tall bunches of bul-
rushes, as if they were palms; and if from
this point of view they resembled angels, on
the other hand they dragged along small
baskets with eatables, and in this resembled
the daily messengers, such as are accustomed
to go to and fro across the mountain. The
mother, too, when he looked at her more
closely, had beneath her blue mantle a reddish
delicately-tinted under-garment, so that our
friend, with astonishment, was fain to find the
Flight into Egypt, which he had so often seen
painted, actually here before his eyes.
They greeted one another; and whilst Wil-
helm, what with astonishment and absorption,
could not utter a single word, the young man
'Our children have already made friends
just now. Will you come with us, that Ave
may see whether the groAvn-up people may not
come to an understanding too.
Wilhelm bethought himself a little, and
then replied:
The sight of your little family procession
inspires confidence and kindliness, andI
may as Avell confess it at onceno less curi-
osity, and a lively desire to knoAv more of you.
For at the first moment one might almost ask
ones self Avhether you are real travellers, or
only spirits Avho take a pleasure in animating
this inhospitable mountain Avith pleasant
Then come Avith us to our dAvelling,
said the other.
Come along! shouted the children, al-
ready dragging Felix along with them.
Come Avith us! said the lady, turning
her amiable kindly look from her babe to-
AArards the stranger.
Without hesitation, Wilhelm said :
I am sorry that I cannot folloAv you im-
mediately. This night at least I must pass at
the frontier-house above. My Avallet, papers
and everything are still lying up there un-
packed and unattended to. But, that I may

show myself ready and willing to do justice to
your kind invitation, I will hand you over my
Felix as a pledge. To-morrow I shall be with
you. How far is it from here?
Before sunset we shall reach our dwel-
ling, said the carpenter, and from the
frontier-house it will be only an hour and a
half more for you. Your boy will augment
our family for this night; to-morrow we shall
expedl you.
The man and the beast set themselves in
motion. Wilhelm with visible pleasure saw
his Felix in such good company; he could
compare him with the dear little angels, from
whom he differed so markedly. For his years
he was not tall, but robust, with a broad chest
and strong shoulders. In his nature there
was a peculiar mixture of authority and
obedience; he had already laid hold of a
palm-branch and a little basket, whereby he
seemed to express both. The procession was
already on the point of disappearing a second
time round a rocky wall, when Wilhelm col-
lected himself, and shouted after them:
But how shall I inquire for you?
Only ask for St. Josephs! rang from
the depth, and the whole vision had disap-
peared behind the blue walls of shadow. A
solemn religious hymn, sung in parts, arose
and died away in the distance, and Wilhelm
thought that he distinguished the voice of his
He mounted upwards, and in so doing re-
tarded for himself the sunset. The star of
heaven which he had lost more than once,
shone on him again as he ascended higher,
and it was still day when he arrived at his
lodging. Once more he gladdened himself
with the grand mountain view, and then with-
drew to his chamber, where he at once seized
a pen, and spent a part of the night in writing.
Wilhelm to Natalia.
Now at last is the summit reachedthe
heights of the mountain chain which will set
a more effectual separation between us than
the whole stretch of country so far. It is my
feeling that one is still ever in the neighbor-
hood of ones beloved ones as long as the
streams flow from us to them. To-day I can
still fancy to myself that the twig which I cast
into the forest brook might leisurely float
downwards to hermight in a few days be
stranded in front of her garden; and thus our
spirit sends its images, our heart its feelings,
more easily downwards. But over there I
fear that a partition wall is placed against im-
agination and feeling. Yet that is perhaps
only a premature anxiety; for there, too, it
will very likely not be otherwise than it is
What could separate me from theefrom
thee, to whom I am destined for ever, al-
though a wondrous fate keeps me from thee,
and unexpectedly shuts to me the heaven to
which I was standing so near! I had time to
colleCt myself, and yet no time would have
sufficed to give me this self-possession, if I
had not won it from thy mouth, from thy lips,
in that decisive moment. How should I have
been able to tear myself away, if the inde-
struCtible thread had not been spun, which is
to unite us for time and eternity.
Still, I ought not indeed to speak of all
this. I will not transgress thy tender com-
mands. Upon this summit let it be for the
last time that I utter before thee the word,
separation. My life shall become a journey.
I have to discharge the travellers special du-
ties, and to undergo tests of a peculiar kind.
How often I smile when I read through the
rules which my craft has prescribed for me,
and those which I myself have made! Much
has been observed and much transgressed; but
even at the transgression, this sheet, this wit-
ness to my last confession, my last absolution,
serves me instead of an admonishing con-
science, and I make a fresh start. I am on
my guard, and my errors no longer rush, like
mountain torrents, one upon the top of the
Still, I will willingly confess to you, that
I often admire those teachers and leaders of
men who only impose on their disciples out-
ward mechanical duties. They make the
thing easy to themselves and to the world.
For just this part of my obligations, which
formerly seemed to me the most arduous and
the most wonderfulthis I observe most con-
veniently and most pleasantly.
I must stay not more than three days
under the same roof. I must leave no inn
without at least removing one mile from the
same. These regulations are really designed
to make my years years of journeying, and to
prevent the least temptation of settling down
occurring to me. I have hitherto scrupulously
subjected myself to this conditionnay, not
once availed myself of the indulgence allowed.
It is in fa6t here for the first time that I make
a haltthat I sleep for a third night in the

same bed. From here I send you many things
that I have, so far, learned, observed, saved up;
and then to-morrow early we descend on the
other side, in the first place to a wonderful
familya holy family, I might perhaps say
about which you will find more in my diary.
Now, farewell, and lay down this sheet
with the feeling that it has only one thing to
say; only one thing that it might say and re-
peat forever, but will not say, will not repeat,
until I have the happiness to lie again at thy
feet, and over thy hands to sob out all that I
have had to forego.
11 Morning.
I have packed up. The postman is fasten-
ing the wallet upon his frame. The sun has
not yet risen, the mists are steaming out of
all the valleys, but the sky overhead is bright.
We are going down into the gloomy depth,
which also will soon brighten up above us.
Let me send across to you my last sigh Let
my last glance towards you be still filled with
an involuntary tear! I am decided and de-
termined. You shall hear no more complaints
from me; you shall only hear what happens
to the wanderer. And still, whilst I wish to
conclude, a thousand more thoughts, wishes,
hopes, and intentions, cross one another.
Fortunately they urge me away. The post-
man is calling, and the host is already clear-
ing up again in my presence, as if I had gone;
even as cold-hearted improvident heirs do
not conceal from the departing the arrange-
ments for putting themselves in possession.
Already had the traveller, following on
foot his porters steps, left steep rocks behind
and above him; already were they traversing
a less rugged intermediate range, ever hurry-
ing forwards, through many a well-wooded
forest, through many a pleasant meadow-
ground, until at last they found themselves
upon a declivity, and looked down into a
carefully cultivated valley shut in all round by
hills. A large monastic building, half in
ruins, half in good repair, at once attracted
their attention.
This is St. Josephs, said the carrier;
a great pity for the beautiful church Only
look how fresh its pillars and columns still
look through the underwood and the trees,
although it has been lying so many hundreds
of years in ruins.
The convent buildings, on the other
hand, replied Wilhelm, are still, I see, in
good preservation.
Yes, said the other, a steward lives on
the spot, who manages the household, and
collects the rents and tithes which have to be
paid here from far around.
With these words they had entered, through
the open gate, a spacious courtyard, which,
surrounded by solemn well-preserved build-
ings, announced itself as the abode of a
peaceful community. He at once perceived
his Felix, with the angels of yesterday, busy
round a big market-basket, which a strongly-
built woman had placed in front of her.
They were just about to buy some cherries;
but in point of faCt, Felix, who always carried
some money about him, was beating down the
price. He now played the part of host as
well as guest, and was lavishing an abundance
of fruit on his playmates; even to his father
the refreshment was welcome amidst these
barren mossy wilds, where the colored shining
fruits always seemed so beautiful. She
brought them up some distance from a large
garden, the fruit-woman remarked, in order
to make the price satisfactory to the buyers,
to whom it had seemed somewhat too high.
Father will soon return, said the chil-
dren; in the meanwhile you must go into
the hall and rest there.
Yet how astonished was Wilhelm when the
children took him to the room which they
called the hall. It was entered direCtly from
the courtyard by a large door, and our travel-
ler found himself in a very clean well-pre-
served chapel, which, however, as in faCt he
saw, had been arranged for the domestic use
of daily life. On one side stood a table, a
settle, several chairs and benches; on the
other side a carved dresser with various-colored
pottery, jugs and glasses. There were not
wanting a number of chests and boxes, and,
neatly ordered as everything was, there was no
want of what is attractive in domestic every-
day life. The light fell through high win-
dows at the side. But what most aroused the
travellers attention were colored pictures
painted on the wall at a moderate height be-
low the windows, extended like tapestries
round three sides of the chapel, and coming
down to a panelled skirting which covered the

rest of the wall to the ground. The pidtures
represented the history of St. Joseph. Here
you saw him busy with his carpenters work;
there he was meeting Mary, and a lily sprouted
out of the ground between them, whilst sev-
eral angels hovered watchfully about them.
Here he is being betrothed ; then follows the
angelic saLutation. There he is sitting des-
pondent amidst unfinished work, letting his
axe lie, and is thinking of leaving his wife.
But presently there appears to him the angel
in a dream, and his position is changed.
With devotion he regards the new-born Child
in the manger at Bethlehem, and adores it.
Soon after follows a wonderfully beautiful
pidlure. All kinds of carpentered wood are
seen ; it is on the point of being put together,
and accidentally a couple of pieces form a
cross. The Child has fallen asleep upon the
cross; its mother is sitting close by regarding
it with tender love, and the foster-father stops
his work in order not to disturb its sleep.
Immediately after follows the Flight into
Egypt. It provoked a smile from the travel-
ler as he looked at it, when he saw on the
wall the repetition of the living picture of
He had not been left long to his medita-
tions when the host entered, whom he recog-
nized immediately as the leader of the holy
caravan. They saluted each other most cor-
dially ; a conversation on sundry matters fol-
lowed; still Wilhelms attention remained
directed towards the pidture. The host saw

the interest of his guest, and commenced
laughingly: . .
No doubt you are wondering at the har-
mony of this structure with its inhabitants,
whom you learned to know yesterday. But
it is perhaps still more strange than might be
supposed; the building has, in fadl, made the
inhabitants. For, if the lifeless comes to life,
then it may well be able also to create a living
Oh, yes, rejoined Wilhelm, it would
surprise me if the spirit who centuries ago
worked so powerfully amid this mountain
desert, and attracted towards itself such a
huge mass of buildings, possessions and rights,
and thereby diffused manifold culture in the
neighborhood,it would surprise me if it did
not still display its vital energy even out of
these ruins upon a living human being. Still,
let us not abide by the general; make me ac-
quainted with your history, in order that I
may learn how it was possible that, without
trifling or pretension, the past is again repre-
sented in you, and that which is past and gone
comes a second time upon the scene.
Just as Wilhelm was expedling an instructive
answer from the lips of his host, a friendly
voice in the courtyard shouted the name of
Joseph. The host heard it, and went to the j
So he is called Joseph, too said Wilhelm
to himself. That is wonderful enough, and
yet not quite so wonderful as that he repre-
sents his patron saint in the life. At the same
time he glanced towards the door, and saw the
Madonna of yesterday speaking with her hus-
band. At last they separated; the woman
went to the opposite dwelling.
Mary! he shouted after her, just a
word more.
So she is called Mary, too But a little
more, and I shall feel myself transported
backwards eighteen hundred years. He mused
on the solemn pent-up valley in which he
found himself, on the ruins and the stillness,
and a strange olden-time sort of mood fell
upon him. It was time that the host and
children came in. The latter begged Wil-
helm to come for a walk, whilst the host still
discharged a few duties. They went now
through the ruins of the church, with its
wealth of columns: the lofty roof and walls
seemed to strengthen themselves in wind and
storm; whilst strong trees had, ages ago,
struck root in the broad tops of the walls, and
in company with a good deal of grass, flowers,
and moss, represented gardens hanging boldly
in the air. Grassy meadow-paths led to a
rapid brook, and the traveller could now,
from a certain height, look over the building
and its situation with an interest which grew
greater as its inhabitants became more and
more remarkable to him, and, through their
harmony with their surroundings, aroused his
liveliest Curiosity.
They returned, and found a table laid in
the consecrated hall. At the upper end there
stood an arm-chair, in which the housewife
sat down. She had standing by her side a
high basket, in which the little child was lying;
next, the father on her left hand, and Wilhelm
on her right. The three children occupied
the lower part of the table. An old female
servant brought in a well-prepared repast.
The eating and drinking-vessels likewise indi-
cated a bygone time. The children gave
occasion for amusement, whilst Wilhelm could
not look enough at the figure and bearing of
his holy hostess.
After dinner the company separated; the
host took his guest to a shady spot in the
ruins, where from an elevated position one
had in full view the pleasant prospect down
the valley, and saw the hills of the lower land,
j with their fertile declivities and woody sum-
mits ranged one behind the other.
It is fair, said the host, that I should
satisfy your curiosity, and the rather as I feel,
in your case, that you are capable of taking
the marvellous seriously, if it rests upon a
serious foundation. This religious institution,
of which you still see the remains, was dedi-
cated to the holy family, and in olden times,
on account of many miracles, was renowned
as a place of pilgrimage. The church was
dedicated to the mother and the son. It was
destroyed several centuries ago. The chapel,
dedicated to the holy foster-father, has been
preserved, as also the habitable part of the
convent. The income for a great many years
back has belonged to a secular prince, who
keeps an agent up here, and that am I, the
son of the former agent, who likewise suc-
ceeded his father in this office.
St. Joseph, although all ecclesiastical hon-
ors had long ago ceased up here, had been so
beneficent towards our family, that it is not to
be wondered at, if they felt particularly well
disposed towards him; and thence it came to
pass, that at baptism I was called Joseph,
whereby to a certain extent my manner of
life was determined. I grew up, and if I be-

came an associate of my father whilst he j
looked after the rents, still I clung quite as
much, nay, even more affectionately, to my
mother, who according to her means was fond
of distributing relief, and through her kindly
disposition and her good deeds was known
and beloved on the whole mountain-side.
She would send me, nowhere, and now there;
at one time to fetch, at another to order, at
another to look after; and I felt quite at
home in this kind of charitable business. i
In general a mountain life has something j
more humanizing than life on the lowlands; j
inhabitants are closer together, or further '
apart, if you wish it; wants are smaller, but
more pressing. Man is more thrown upon his
own resources,must learn to rely on his
hands, on his feet. The laborer, postman,
carrier, are all united in one and the same
person; everybody also stands nearer to his
neighbor, meets him oftener, and lives with
him in a common sphere of activity.
When I was still young, and my shoulders
unable to carry much, it occurred to me to
furnish a small donkey with baskets, and drive
it before me up and down the steep footpaths.
In the mountains, the ass is no such contempti-
ble animal as in the lowlands, where the la-
borer who ploughs with horses thinks himself
better than another who tears up the sod with
oxen. And I trudged along behind my beast
with all the less misgiving, that I had before
noticed, in the chapel, that it had attained to
the honor of carrying God and his mother.
Still, this chapel was not then in the condition
in which it is now. It was treated like an
outbuilding, almost like a stable. Firewood,
hurdles, tools, tubs and ladders, and all sorts
of things, were heaped pell-mell together. It
was fortunate that the paintings were situated
so high, and that wainscot lasts a little while.
But as a child I was especially fond of clamb-
ering here and there all about the wood, and
looking at the pictures, which nobody could
properly explain to me. Enough, I knew that
the saint whose life was painted above was my
namesake, and I congratulated myself on him,
as much as if he had been my uncle. I grew
up, and as it was a special condition that he
who would lay claim to the profitable office of
steward must exercise a trade, therefore, in
accordance with the wish of my parents, who
were anxious that I should one day inherit
this excellent post, I was to learn a trade
and, moreover, such a one as would prove
useful to the household up here.
My father was a cooper by trade, and
made everything of this sort of work that was
necessary himself, whence accrued great ad-
vantage to himself and the whole family.
But I could not make up my mind to follow
him in this line. My inclination drew me
irresistibly towards the carpenters trade, the
implements of which I had from my youth
seen so circumstantially and correCtly painted
by the side of my saint. I declared my wish;
they did not oppose it, and the less so as the
carpenter was often required by us for so many
different constructions, and even because, if
he has some ability and love for his work, the
cabinet-makers and wood-carvers arts, espe-
cially in forest districts, are closely allied to
it. And what still more strengthened me in
my higher designs was that picture, which,
alas! now is almost entirely obliterated. As
soon as you know what it is meant to repre-
sent, you will be able to make it out, when I
take you to it presently. St. Joseph had been
entrusted with nothing less than the making
of a throne for King Herod. The gorgeous
seat was to be placed between two specified
pillars. Joseph carefully takes the measure
of the breadth and height, and constructs a
costly royal throne. But how astonished is
he, how distraCted, when he brings the chair
of state: it is found to be too high and not
wide enough. Now, as is well known, King
Herod was not to be trifled with: the pious
master-joiner is in the greatest embarrassment.
The Christ-child, accustomed to accompany
him everywhere, to carry his tools in childishly
humble sport, sees his distress, and is imme-
diately ready with advice and help. The
wondrous Child desires his foster-father to
take hold of the throne by one side. He
seizes the other side of the carved work, and
both begin to pull. With the greatest ease
and as conveniently as if it had been of
leather, the throne expands in breadth, loses
proportionately in height, and fits most excel-
lently to the place and position, to the greatest
consolation of the reassured carpenter and to
the perfeCl satisfaction of the king.*
In my youth that throne was still quite
easy to see, and from the remains of one side
you will be able to observe that there was no
* This story is substantially the same as one given in
the first Gospel of the Infancy of Christ, which was re-
ceived as authentic by the Gnostics of the second cen-
tury. The same apocryphal book gives various details
of the Flight into Egypt, which St. Matthew so briefly

lack of carved work, which indeed must have
proved easier to the painter than it would have
been to the carpenter, if it had been de-
manded of him.
However, I had no misgivings in conse-
quence, but looked upon the craft to which I
had devoted myself in such a favorable light,
that I could scarcely wait until they had put me
into apprenticeship; which was all the more
easy to effect, inasmuch as there lived in the
neighborhood a master-carpenter who worked
for the whole distridt, and who could employ
several assistants and apprentices. Thus I re-
mained near my parents, and continued to a
certain extent my former life, whilst employ-
ing hours of leisure and holy-days for the
charitable commissions with which my mother
continued to charge me.
The Visitation.
In this way a few years passed, con-
tinued the narrator. I very soon understood
the advantages of the craft; and my body,
developed through work, was capable of
undertaking anything required for the pur-
pose. In addition, I discharged the former
duties which I rendered to my good mother,
or rather to the sick and needy. I went with
my beast through the mountain, distributed
the load punctually, and from grocers and
merchants I took back with me what we
lacked up here. My master was satisfied with
me, and so were my parents. Already I had
on my wanderings the pleasure of seeing many
a house which I had helped to erect, which I
had decorated. For it was especially this
lastthe notching of the beams, the carving
of certain simple forms, the branding of orna-
mental figures, the red-coloring of certain
cavities, by which a wooden mountain-house
offers such a cheerful aspect,all such per-
formances were entrusted to me especially,
because I showed myself best in the matter,
always bearing in mind as I did the throne of
Herod and its adornments.
Among the help-worthy persons of whom
my mother took particular care, the first place
was especially awarded to young wives in ex-
pectation of childbed, as I by degrees could
well observe, although in such cases it was
usual to keep the messages a secret so far as I
was concerned. In such cases I never had
any direct commission, but everything went
through the medium of a good woman who
lived at no great distance down the valley,
and who was called Frau Elizabeth. My
mother, herself experienced in the art which
rescues for life so many at the very entrance
into life, was on unalterably good terms with
Frau Elizabeth, and I often had to hear on
all sides that many of our robust mountain-
eers had to thank both these women for
their existence. The mystery with which
Elizabeth every time received me, her re-
served answers to my puzzling questions,
which I myself did not understand, awoke
in me a particular reverence for her and her
house, which was in the highest degree clean,
and seemed to me to represent a kind of
little sandtuary.
In the meanwhile, in consequence of my
knowledge and skill in my trade, I had ac-
quired a certain amount of influence in the
family. As my father, in his quality of
cooper, had provided for the cellar, so did I
now care for house and home, and mended
many injured portions of the ancient build-
ing. I particularly succeeded in restoring to
domestic use certain dilapidated out-houses
and coach-houses; and scarcely was this
done, than I set about clearing and cleans-
ing my beloved chapel. In a few days it
had been put in order, almost as you see it;
whereupon I set about restoring, in uni-
formity with the whole, the missing or injured
parts of the panel-work. And you might
perhaps take these folding-doors of the en-
trance to be rather old, but they are my
own work. I have spent several years in
carving them in hours of leisure, after I had
in the first place neatly joined them into a
whole by the aid of strong planks of oak.
Whatever of the pidtures had not up to that
time been injured or obliterated, has also
been preserved up to now; and I assisted
the glazier at a new building on the con-
dition that he restored the colored windows.
If those pidlures and thoughts on the
life of the saint had occupied my imagina-
tion, so it all became only more deeply im-
pressed upon me when I was able to consider
the spot as once more a sandhiary, and while
away the time in it, particularly in the sum-
mer, and meditate at leisure upon whatever
I saw or imagined. I felt within me an irre-
sistible inclination to imitate the saint; and,
as similar circumstances cannot easily be
called forth, I determined at least to begin
to resemble him from below, as in fadt I had
already begun to do long ago by the use of
the beast of burden. The little creature of
which I had availed myself hitherto would

artist: eromann wagner.

not suffice me any longer. I found for my-
self a much finer animal, and was careful to
get a well-construdted saddle, which was
equally convenient for riding or for carrying
goods. A pair of new baskets were procured,
and a net with colored ribbons, tassels, and
knots, mingled with chinking metal tags,
adorned the neck of the long-eared creature,
which was now soon able to vie with its pro-
totype on the wall. It occurred to no one
to mock me, when in this array I passed
along the mountain; for people willingly
allow benevolence a marvellous outward
In the meantime the war, or rather
its consequences, had approached our
district, whilst on several occasions
dangerous bands of runaway rascals col-
lected together, and here and there
perpetrated many a violent deed and
much mischief. By a good system of
country militia, patrols, and continuous
vigilance, the evil was certainly very
soon quelled; yet people too soon fell
into carelessness again, and, before they
had become aware of it, fresh mischiefs
broke out.
There had long been quiet in our
distridt, and I with my sumpter beast
went peacefully trudging along the ac-
customed paths, until, on a certain day,
I came across the newly-sown clearing
in the wood, and on "the edge of the
sunk fence I found sitting, or rather
lying, a female figure. She seemed to
be asleep or in a swoon. I attended
to her, and when she opened her beauti-
ful eyes, and sat up, she exclaimed
passionately, Where is he? Have you
seen him?
Whom? I asked.
She answered, My husband
Seeing how very youthful her aspedfc
was, this answer was not expedled by
me; still, I continued to assist her only
the more readily, and to assure her of
my sympathy. I gathered that the two
travellers had left their carriage at some
distance, on account of the difficult
carriage-road, in order to turn into a
shorter foot-path. Close by the spot
they had been assailed by armed men: her
husband, whilst fighting, had got to some dis-
tance off. She had not been able to follow
him far, and had been lying on this spot she
did not know how long. She begged me im-
ploringly to leave her and to hurry in search
of her husband. She got upon her feet, and
the most beautiful, the loveliest form stood be-
fore me; yet I could easily see that she was in
a condition in which she might very soon
need the assistance of my mother and Frau
Elizabeth. We disputed for a while, for I
wished first to take her to a place of safety;
she wished first of all for news of her hus-
band. She would not go far herself from the
path he had taken, and all my representations
would perhaps have proved fruitless, if a troop
of our militia, which had turned out upon the
news of fresh outrages, had not just then
arrived through the forest. They were in-
formed of what had happened; the necessary
course was agreed upon, the place of meeting

fixed, and thus the matter was so far set
straight. I quickly hid my basket in a neigh-
boring cave, which had already often served
me as a storehouse, arranged my saddle into
a comfortable seat, and lifted, not without a
peculiar emotion, the lovely burden upon my
willing beast, which was able by itself to find
the familiar paths at once, and gave me an
opportunity of walking along by her side.
You may imagine, without my describing
at length, in what a strange state of mind I
was. What I so long had sought- for I had
really found. I felt as if I were dreaming,
and then again, suddenly, as if I had awoke
from a dream. This heavenly form, as I saw
it hovering as it were in the air, and moving
in front of the green trees, came before me
now like some dream, which was called forth
in my soul through those pictures in the
chapel. Then, again, those pictures seemed
to me to have been only dreams, which now
resolved themselves into a beautiful reality.
I questioned her on many things; she answered
me gently and politely, as beseems a person
of good standing, in trouble. She often
begged me, when we reached some open
height, to stand still,.look round, and listen.
She begged me with such grace, with such a
deeply-imploring glance from beneath her
long black eyelashes, that I had to do what-
ever was but possible: I a (finally climbed an
isolated, tall, and branchless fir-tree. Never
had this evidence, of my dexterity been more
welcome to me; never had I on holidays and
at fair-times with greater satisfaction fetched
down ribbons and silk handkerchiefs from
similar altitudes. Yet this time I went, alas!
without any prize; neither did I see or hear
anything from above. At last she herself
called to me to come down, and beckoned to
me quite urgently with her hand; nay, when
at length in sliding down I let go my hold at
a considerable height and jumped down, she
gave a cry, and a sweet friendliness over-
spread her face, when she saw me uninjured
before her.
Why should I detain you long with the
hundred attentions with which I tried to make
the whole way pleasant to her, in order to
distraCt her thoughts. And how too could
I?for this is just the peculiar quality of true
attentiveness, that for the moment it makes
everything of nothing. To my own feeling,
the flowers which I plucked for her, the dis-
tant landscapes which I showed her, the
mountains, forests, which I named to her,
were so many precious treasures, which I
seemed to present to her in order to bring
myself into relation with her, as one will try
to do by the aid of gifts.
She had already gained me for my whole
life, when we arrived at our destination in
front of that good womans door, and I at
once saw a painful separation before me.
Once more I cast a glance over her whole
form, and when my eyes had reached her feet,
I stooped down, as if I had to do something
to the saddlegirth, and I kissed the prettiest
shoe that I had ever seen in my life, but with-
out her perceiving it. I helped her down,
sprang up the steps and shouted into the
house-door: Frau Elizabeth, here is a visitor
for you! The good woman came out, and I
looked over her shoulders towards the house,
when the lovely being, with charming sorrow
and inward consciousness of pain, mounted
the steps and then affectionately embraced
my worthy old woman, and let her conduCl
her into the better room. They shut them-
selves within it, and I remained standing by
my ass before the door, like one who has un-
laden costly goods, and has again become but
a poor driver as before.
I was still hesitating to leave the spot, for
I was irresolute as to what I should do, when
Frau Elizabeth came to the door and asked
me to summon my mother to her, and then to
go about the neighborhood and obtain if pos-
sible some news of the husband. Mary begs
you particularly to do this, said she.
Can I not speak to her once more ? an-
swered I.
That will not do, said Frau Elizabeth,
and we parted.
In a short time I reached our dwelling;
my mother was ready to go down the very
same evening and assist the young stranger.
I hurried down to the lower distridl and hoped
to obtain the most trustworthy news at the
bailiffs. But he was himself still in uncer-
tainty, and as he knew me he invited me to
spend the night with him. It seemed to me
interminably long, and I constantly had the
beautiful form before my eyes, as she sat rock-
ing to and fro on the animal, and looked
down at me with such a look of sorrowful
friendliness. Every moment I hoped for
news. I did not grudge, but wished for the
preservation of the good husband, and yet

Wilhelm Meister' s Travels.

could so gladly think of her as a widow. The
flying detachment by degrees came together
again, and after a number of varying reports
the truth at last was made clear, that the car-
riage had been saved, but that the unfortunate
husband had died of his wounds in the neigh-
boring village. I also heard, that according
to the previous arrangement some had gone to
announce the sorrowful news to Frau Eliza-
beth. I had accordingly nothing more to do,
or aid in, there, and yet a ceaseless impa-
tience, a boundless longing, drove me back
through mountain and forest to her door. It
was night; the house was shut up. I saw light
in the rooms, I saw shadows moving on the
curtains, and so I sat down upon a bench op-
posite, continually on the point of knocking,
and continually held back by various consid-
Yet why do I go on relating circumstan-
tially what in point of fa6t has no interest.
Enough! Even the next morning they did
not let me into the house. They knew the
sad occurrence, they did not want me any
more; they sent me to my father, to my
work; they did not answer my questions;
they wanted to get rid of me.
They had been treating me this way for
a week, when at last Frau Elizabeth called me
in. Tread gently, my friend, she said; but
come in with good comfort! She led me
into a cleanly apartment, where, in the corner,
through the half-opened bed-curtains, I saw
my fair one sitting. Frau Elizabeth went to
her as if to announce me, lifted something j
from the bed and brought it towards me: a
most beautiful boy wrapped in the whitest of
linen. Frau Elizabeth held him just between me
and his mother, and upon the spot there occurred
to me the lily-stalk in the picture, growing out
of the earth between Mary and Joseph,* in
witness of a pure relationship. From that in-
stant my heart was relieved of all oppression;
I was sure of my aim and of my happiness. I
could freely walk towards her, speak to her;
I could bear her heavenly look, take the boy
in my arms, and press a hearty kiss upon his
How I thank you for your affedlion for
this orphan child said the mother.
* The lily-stalk, of course, referred to the well-
known legend of the budding of St. Josephs rod, when
he presented himself as a suitor for Marythe subject
of many early paintings. The legend is probably de-
rived from the uncanonical Gospel of the Birth of Mary
given by St. Jerome.Ed.
I exclaimed, thoughtlessly, and passion-
ately: It is an orphan no longer, if you are
Frau Elizabeth, wiser than I, took the in-
fant from me, and managed to send me away.
The recollection of that time still serves
me constantly for my happiest diversion when
I am obliged to roam through our mountains
and valleys. I am still able to call to mind
the smallest circumstancewhich, however, it
is but fair that I should spare you.
Weeks passed by: Mary had recovered
and I could see her more frequently. My in-
tercourse with her was a series of services and
attentions. Her family circumstances allowed
her to live where she liked. At first she
stayed with Frau Elizabeth; then she visited
us, to thank my mother and me for so much
friendly help. She was happy with us, and I
flattered myself that this came to pass partly on
my account. Yet, what I should have liked so
much to say, and dared not say, was finally
mooted in a strange and charming fashion
when I took her into the chapel, which I had
already transformed into a habitable hall. I
showed and explained to her the pictures one
after the other, and in so doing I expatiated
in such a vivid heartfelt manner upon the
duties of a foster-father, that tears came into her
eyes, and I could not get to the end of my
description of the pictures. I thought myself
sure of her affection, although I was not pre-
sumptuous enough to wish to blot out so soon
the memory of her husband. The law com-
j pels widows to one year of mourning; and
certainly such a period, which comprehends
within it the change of all earthly things, is
necessary to a sensitive heart, in order to
soothe the painful impressions of a great loss.
One sees the flowers fade and the leaves fall,
but one also sees fruits ripen and fresh buds
germinate. Life belongs to the living, and
he who lives must be prepared for a change.
I now spoke to my mother about the mat-
ter which I had most at heart. She thereupon
revealed to me how painful the death of her hus-
band had been to Mary, and how she had re-
covered again only at the thought that she
must live for the sake of the child. My at-
tachment had not remained unknown to the
women, and Mary had already familiarized
herself with the notion of living with us. She
stayed some time longer in the neighborhood,
then she came up here to us, and we lived for
a while longer in the godliest and happiest
state of betrothal. At last we were united.

That first feeling which had brought us to-
gether did not disappear. The duties and
joys of foster-father and father were com-
bined; and thus our little family, as it in-
creased, surpassed indeed its pattern in the
number of its individuals, but the virtues of
that example, in truth and purity of mind,
were kept holy and pradlised by us. And
hence also we maintain with kindly habitude
the outward appearance which we have acci-
dentally acquired, and which suits so well our
inward disposition; for although we are all
good walkers and sturdy carriers, yet the
beast of burden remains constantly in our
company, in order to carry one thing or
another, when business or a visit obliges us to
go through these mountains and valleys. As
you met us yesterday, so the whole neighbor-
hood knows us; and we are proud of the fa6t
that our condudl is of a kind not to shame
those holy names and persons whom we pro-
fess to follow.
I have just ended a pleasant half won-
drous story, which I have written down for
thee from the lips of an excellent man. If it is
not entirely in his own wordsif here and there
I have expressed my own feelings in the place
of his, this is quite natural, in view of the rela-
tionship I have here felt with him. Is not
that veneration for his wife like that which I
feel for you? And has not even the meeting
of these two lovers some likeness to our own?
But, that he is happy enough in walking along
by the side of the beast that carries its double
burden of beauty; that in the evening he can,
with his family following, enter through the
old convent gates, and that he is inseparable
from his beloved and from his children ;all
this I may be allowed to envy him in secret.
On the other hand, I must not complain of my
own fate, since I have promised you to be silent
and to suffer, as you also have undertaken to
I have to pass over many beautiful features
of the common life of these virtuous and
happy people; for how could everything be
written ? A few days I have spent pleasantly,
but the third already warns me to bethink me
of my further travels.
To-day I had a little dispute with Felix,
for he wanted almost to compel me to trans-
gress one of the good intentions which I have
promised you to keep. Now it is just a defedl,
a misfortune, a fatality with me, that, before
I am aware of it, the company increases around
me, and I charge myself with a fresh burden,
under which I afterwards have to toil and to
drag myself along. Now, during my travels,
we must have no third person as a constant
companion. We wish and intend to be and
to remain two only, and it has but just now
seemed as if a new, and not exadlly pleasing
connection was likely to be formed.
A poor, merry little youngster had joined
the children of the house, with whom Felix
had been enjoying these days in play, who
allowed himself to be used or abused just as the
game required, and who very soon won the
favor of Felix. From various expressions I
noticed already that the latter had chosen a
playmate for the next journey. The boy is
known here in the neighborhood ; he is toler-
ated everywhere on account of his merriness,
and occasionally receives gratuities. But he
did not please me, and I begged the master of
the house to send him away. This was ac-
cordingly done, but Felix was vexed about it,
and there was a little scene.
On this occasion I made a discovery
which pleased me. In a corner of the chapel,
or hall, there stood a box of stones, which
Felixwho since our wandering through the
mountain had become exceedingly fond of
stoneseagerly pulled out and examined.
Among them were some fine, striking speci-
mens. Our host said that the child might
pick out for himself any he liked : that these
stones were what remained over from a large
quantity which a stranger had sent from here a
short time before. He called him Montan,*
and you can fancy how glad I was to hear this
name, under which one of our best friends, to
whom we owe so much, is travelling. As I
inquired as to time and circumstances, I may
hope soon to meet with him in my travels.
The news that Montan was in the neighbor-
hood had made Wilhelm thoughtful. He con-
sidered that it ought not to be left merely to
chance whether he should see such a worthy
friend again, and therefore he inquired of his
host whether it was not known in what direc-
tion this traveller had bent his way. No one
had any more exa<5t knowledge of this, and
* A name supposed to be assumed by Jarno. See
Wilhelm Meisters Apprenticeship.

Wilhelm had already determined to pursue his
route according to the first plan, when Felix
exclaimed, If father were not so obstinate, we
should soon find Montan.
In what manner? asked Wilhelm.
Felix answered: Little Fitz said yesterday
that he would most likely follow up the gen-
tleman who had the pretty stones with him,
and knew so much about them too.
After some discussion Wilhelm at last re-
solved to make the attempt, and in so doing
to give all the more attention to the suspicious
boy. He was soon found, and when he
understood what was intended, he brought a
mallet and iron, and a very powerful hammer,
together with a bag, and, in this miner-like
equipment, ran merrily in front.
The road led sideways up the mountain
again. The children ran leaping together
from rock to rock, over stock and stone, and
brook and stream, without following any
diredl path. Fitz, glancing now to his right
and now to his left, pushed quickly upwards.
As Wilhelm, and particularly the loaded car-
rier, could not follow so quickly, the boys re-
traced the road several times forwards and
backwards, singing and whistling. The forms
of certain strange trees aroused the attention
of Felix, who, moreover, now made for the
first time the acquaintance of the larches and
stone-pines, and was attradled by the won-
derful gentians. And thus the difficult travel-
ling from place to place did not lack enter-

Little Fitz suddenly stood still and listened.
He beckoned to the others to come.
Do you hear the knocking? said he.
It is the sound of a hammer striking the rock.
We hear it, said the others.
It is Montan, said he, or someone
who can give us news of him.
As they followed the sound, which was re-
peated at intervals, they struck a clearing in
the forest, and beheld a steep, lofty, naked
rock, towering above everything, leaving even
the tall forests under it. On the summit they
descried a person. He stood at too great a
distance to be recognized. The children at
once commenced to clamber up the rugged
paths. Wilhelm followed with some difficulty,
nay, danger: for in ascending a rock, the first
one goes more safely, because he feels his way
for himself; the one that follows only sees
where the former has got to, but not how.
The boys soon reached the top, and Wilhelm
heard a loud shout of joy.
It is Jarno! Felix called out to his
father, and Jarno at once stepped forward to
a steep place, reached his hand to his friend,
and pulled him up to the top. They embraced
and welcomed each other with rapture under
the open canopy of heaven.
But they had scarcely let each other go
when Wilhelm was seized with giddiness, not
so much on his own behalf, as because he saw
the children hanging over the fearful preci-
pice. Jarno noticed it, and told them all to
sit down at once.
Nothing is more natural, said he, than
to feel giddy before any great sight, upon
which we come unexpectedly, and so feel at
the same time our littleness and our greatness.
But then, generally speaking, there is no true
enjoyment except where one must at first feel
Are those below these the big mountains
which we have crossed ? asked Felix. How
little they look! And here, he continued,
loosening a little piece of stone from the top,
here is the cats-gold again ; it seems to be
It is found far and wide, replied Jarno;
and since you are curious about such things,
take notice that at present you are sitting upon
the oldest mountain range, on the earliest
form of stone, in the world.
Was not the world made all at once,
then? asked Felix.
Scarcely, replied Montan; good
things require time.
Then down there there is another sort of
stone, said Felix, and then again another,
and others again, forever, pointing from the
nearest mountains towards the more distant
ones, and so to the plains below.
It was a very fine day, and Jarno pointed
out in detail the splendid view. Here and
there stood several other summits like that
upon which they were. A mountain in the
middle distance seemed to vie with it, but
still was far from reaching the same height.
Farther off it was less and less mountainous;
yet strangely prominent forms still showed
themselves. Lastly, in the distance even the
lakes and rivers became discernible, and a
fertile region seemed to spread itself out like a
sea. If the eye was brought back again it
penetrated into fearful depths, traversed by
roaring cataracts, depending one upon the
other in labyrinthine confusion.
Felix was never weary of asking questions,
and Jarno was accommodating enough in an-
swering every question for him: in which,
however, Wilhelm thought that he noticed that
the teacher was not altogether truthful and sin-
cere. Therefore, when the restless boys had
clambered farther away, he said to his friend :
You have not spoken to the child about
these things as you speak with yourself about
That is rather a burdensome demand,
answered Jarno; one does not always speak
even to ones self as one thinks, and it is our
duty to tell others only what they can compre-
hend. Man understands nothing but what is
proportionate to him. The best thing one
can do, is to keep children in the presentto
give them a name or a description. In any
case they ask soon enough for the reasons.
They are not to be blamed for that, an-
swered Wilhelm. The complicated nature
of objedts confuses everybody, and instead of
dissedting them it is more convenient to ask
quickly, Whence? and whither?
And yet, continued Jarno, as children
only see objedts superficially, one can only
speak to them superficially about their origin
and purpose.
Most people, answered Wilhelm, re-
main for their whole life in this condition,
and do not reach that glorious epoch, in which
the intelligible becomes commonplace and
foolish to us.
One may indeed call it glorious, replied
Jarno; for it is a middle state between des-
peration and deification.

Let us keep to the boy, who is now my
chief anxiety, said Wilhelm. Now he has
acquired an interest in minerals since we have
been travelling. Can you not impart to me
just enough to satisfy him at least for a
That will not do, said Jarno; in
every new intelledlual sphere one has first
to commence like a child again, throw
a passionate interest into the matter, and
rejoice first in the outward husk before one
has the happiness of reaching the kernel.
Then tell me, answered Wilhelm, how
have you arrived at this knowledge and in-
sight?for it is still not so long since we
parted from one another!
My friend, replied Jarno, we had to
resign ourselves, if not for always, at least for
a long time. The first thing that under such
circumstances occurs to a brave man, is to
commence a new life. New objects are not
enough for him; these are only good as a dis-
traction; he demands a new whole, and at
once places himself in the centre of it.
But why, interrupted Wilhelm, just
this passing strange, this most solitary of all
Just for this reason, exclaimed Jarno:
because it is hermit-like I would avoid men.
We cannot help them, and they hinder us
from helping ourselves. If they are happy one
must leave them alone in their vanity; if they
are unhappy one must save them without in-
juring this vanity; and no one ever asks
whether you are happy or unhappy.
But things are not yet quite so bad with
them, replied Wilhelm, laughing.
I will not rob you of your happiness,
said Jarno. Only journey onward, thou
second Diogenes Let not your little lamp be
extinguished in broad daylight! Yonder,
below, there lies a new world before you;
but I will wager it goes on just like the old
one behind us. If you cannot mate yourself
and pay debts, you are of no use among
However, replied Wilhelm, they seem
to me more amusing than those stubborn rocks
of yours.
Not at all, replied Jarno, for the latter
are at least incomprehensible.
You are trying to evade, said Wilhelm,
for it is not in your way to deal with things
which leave no hope of being comprehended.
Be sincere, and tell me what you have found
in this cold, stern hobby of yours?
That is difficult to tell of any hobby, par-
ticularly of this one.
Then he reflected for a moment, and said:
Letters may be fine things, and yet they
are insufficient to express sounds: we cannot
dispense with sounds, and yet they are a long
way from sufficient to enable mind, properly
so called, to be expressed aloud. In the end,
we cleave to letters and to sound, and are no
better off than if we had renounced them
altogether: what we communicate, and what
is imparted to us, is always only of the most
commonplace, by no means worth the trou-
You want to evade me, said his friend;
for what has that to do with these rocks and
But suppose, replied the other, that I
treated these very rents and fissures as if they
were letters: sought to decipher them, fashion
them into words, and learned to read them
off-hand: would you have anything against
that ?
No, but it seems to me an extensive alpha-
More limited than you think: one has
only to learn it like any other one. Nature
possesses only one writing, and I have no need
to drag along with a number of scrawls. Here
I have no occasion to fearas may happen
after I have been long and lovingly poring
over a parchmentthat an acute critic will
come and assure me that everything is only
And yet even here, replied his friend,
laughing, your methods of reading are con-
Even for that very reason, said the
other, I do not talk with anybody about it;
and with you too, just because I love you, I
will no longer exchange and barter the
wretched trash of empty words.
The two friends, not without care and diffi-
culty, had descended to join the children,
who had settled themselves in a shady spot
below. The mineral specimens collected by
Montan and Felix were unpacked almost more
eagerly than the provisions. The latter had
many questions to ask, and the former many
names to pronounce. Felix was delighted
that he could tell him the names of them all,

and committed them quickly to memory. At
last he produced one more stone, and said,
What is this one called?
Montan examined it with astonishment,
and said, Where did you get it?
Fitz answered quickly, I found it; it
comes from this country.
It is not from this district, replied
Mon tan.
Felix enjoyed seeing the great man some-
what perplexed.
You shall have a ducat, said Montan,
if you take me to the place where it is
It will be easy to earn, replied Fitz,
but not at once.
Then describe to me the place exaCtly, so
that I shall be able to find it without fail.
But that is impossible, for it is a cross-stone,
which comes from St. James of Compostella,
and which some foreigner has lost, if indeed
you have not stolen it from him, because it
looks so wonderful.
Give your ducat to your friend to take
care of, said Fitz, and I will honestly con-
fess where I got the stone. In the ruined
church at St. Josephs there is a ruined altar as
well. Among the scattered and broken
stones at the top I discovered a layer of this
stone, which served as a bed for the others,
and I knocked down as much of it as I could
get hold of. If you only lifted away the up-
per stones, no doubt you would find a good
deal more of it.
Take your gold-piece, replied Montan;
you deserve it for this discovery. It is a
pretty one. One justly rejoices when inani-
mate nature brings to light a semblance of
what we love and venerate. She appears to
us in the form of a sibyl, who sets down be-
forehand evidence of what has been predes-
tined from eternity, but can only in the course
of time become a reality. Upon this, as upon
a miraculous, holy foundation, the priests had
set their altar.
Wilhelm, who had been listening for a time,
and who had noticed that many names and
many descriptions came over and over again,
repeated his already expressed wish that Mon-
tan would tell him so much as he had need of
for the elementary instruction of the boy.
Give that up, replied Mon tan. There
is nothing more terrible than a teacher who
does not know more than the scholars, at all
events, ought to know. He who wants to
teach others may often indeed be silent about
the best that he knows, but he must not be
half-instruCted himself.
But where, then, are such perfeCt teach-
ers to be found ?
You can find them very easily, replied
Mon tan.
Where, then?said Wilhelm, with some
Wherever the matter which you want to
master is at home, replied Montan. The
best instruction is derived from the most com-
plete environment. Do you not learn foreign
languages best in the countries where they are
at homewhere only those given ones and no
other strike your ear?
And have you then, asked Wilhelm,
attained the knowledge of mountains in the
midst of mountains?
Of course.
Without conversing with people? asked
At least only with people, replied the
other, who were familiar with mountains.
Wheresoever the Pygmies, attracted by the
metalliferous veins, bore their way through the
rock to make the interior of the earth accessi-
ble, and by every means try to solve problems
of the greatest difficulty, there is the place
where the thinker eager for knowledge ought
to take up his station. He sees business, ac-
tion ; let things follow their own course, and
is glad at success and failure. What is useful
is only a part of what is significant. To pos-
sess a subjeCl completely, to master it, one has
to study the thing for its own sake. But
whilst I am speaking of the highest and the
last, to which we raise ourselves only late in
the day by dint of frequent and fruitful obser-
vation, I see the boys before me: to them mat-
ters sound quite differently. The child might
easily grasp every species of activity, because
everything looks easy that is excellently per-
formed. Every beginning is difficult! That
may be true in a certain sense, but more gen-
erally one can say that the beginning of every-
thing is easy, and the last stages are ascended
with most difficulty and most rarely.
Wilhelm, who in the meantime had been
thinking, said to Montan, Have you really
adopted the persuasion that the collective
forms of activity have to be separated in pre-
cept as well as in practice ?
I know no other or better plan, replied
the former. Whatever man would achieve,
must loose itself from him like a second
self; and how could that be possible if his

first self were not entirely penetrated there-
But yet a many-sided culture has been
held to be advantageous and necessary.
It may be so, too, in its proper time,
answered the other. Many-sidedness pre-
pares, in point of fa<5l, only the element in
which the one-sided man can work, who just
at this time has room enough given him.
Yes, now is the time for the one-sided ; well
for him who comprehends it, and who works
for himself and others in this mind. In cer-
tain things it is understood thoroughly and at
once. Practise till you are an able violinist,
and be assured that the diredlor will have
pleasure in assigning you a place in the or-
chestra. Make an instrument of yourself,
and wait and see what sort of place humanity
will kindly grant you in universal life. Let
us break off. Whoso will not believe, let him
follow his own path: he too will succeed
sometimes; but I say it is needful everywhere
to serve from the ranks upwards. To limit
ones self to a handicraft is the best. For the
narrowest heads it is always a craft; for the
better ones an art; and the best, when he does
one thing, does everythingor, to be less
paradoxical, in the one thing, which he does
rightly, he beholds the semblance of every-
thing that is rightly done.
This conversation, which we only reproduce
sketchily, lasted until sunset, which glorious
as it was, yet led the company to consider
where they would spend the night.
I should not know how to bring you un-
der cover, said Fitz; but if you care to sit
or lie down for the night in a warm place at a
good old charcoal-burners, you will be wel-
And so they all followed him through
strange paths to a quiet spot, where anyone
would soon have felt at home.
In the midst of a narrow clearing in the
forest there lay smoking and full of heat the
round-roofed charcoal kilns, on one side the
hut of pine-boughs, and a bright fire close by.
They sat down and made themselves comfort-
able; the children at once busy helping the
charcoal-burners wife, who, with hospitable
anxiety, was getting ready some slices of
bread, toasted with butter so as to let them be
filled and soaked with it, which afforded deli-
ciously oily morsels to their hungry appetites.
Presently, whilst the boys were playing at
hide-and-seek among the dimly-lighted pine
stems, howling like wolves and barking like

dogs, in such a way that even a courageous
wayfarer might well have been frightened by
it, the friends talked confidentially about their
But now, to the peculiar duties of the Re-
nunciants appertained also this, that on meet-
ing they must speak neither of the past nor
the future, but only occupy themselves with
the present.
Jarno, who had his mind full of mining un-
dertakings, and of all the knowledge and capa-
bilities that they required, enthusiastically ex-
plained to Wilhelm, with the utmost exacti-
tude and thoroughness, all that he promised
himself in botli hemispheres from such knowl-
edge and capacities; of which, however, his
friend, who always sought for the true treasure
in the human heart alone, could hardly form
any idea, but rather answered at last with a
Thus you stand in contradidlion with
yourself, when beginning only in advanced
years to meddle with what one ought to be
instructed in from youth up.
Not at all, replied the other; for it is
precisely this, that I was educated in my
childhood at a kind uncles, a mining officer
of consequence, that I grew up with the
miners children, and with them used to swim
little bark boats down the draining channel of
the mine, that has led me back into this circle
wherein I now feel myself again happy and
contented. This charcoal smoke can hardly
agree with you as with me, who from child-
hood up have been accustomed to swallow it
as incense. I have essayed a great deal in the
world, and always found the same: in habit
lies the only satisfaction of man; even the un-
pleasant, to which we have accustomed our-
selves, we miss with regret. I was once trou-
bled a very long time with a wound that
would not heal, and when at last I recovered,
it was most unpleasant to me when the sur-
geon remained away and no longer dressed it,
and no longer took breakfast with me.
But I should like, however, replied Wil-
helm, to impart to my son a freer survey of
the world than any limited handicraft can
give. Circumscribe man as you will, for all
that he will at last look about himself in his
time, and how can he understand it all, if he
does not in some degree know what has pre-
ceded him. And would he not enter every
grocers shop with astonishment if he had no
idea of the countries whence these indispens-
able rarities have come to him?
What does it matter? replied Jarno;
let him read the newspapers like every
Philistine, and drink coffee like every old
woman. But still, if you cannot leave it
alone, and are so bent upon perfedt culture, I
do not understand how you can be so blind,
how you need search any longer, how you fail
to see that you are in the immediate neighbor-
hood of an excellent educational institu-
In the neighborhood? said Wilhelm,
shaking his head.
Certainly, replied the other; what do
you see here ?
Plere, just before your nose! Jarno
stretched out his forefinger, and exclaimed
impatiently: What is that ?
Well then, said Wilhelm, a charcoal-
kiln ; but what has that to do with it ?
Good, at last! a charcoal-kiln. How do
they proceed to eredt it ?
They place logs one on top of the other.
When that is done, what happens
As it seems to me, said Wilhelm, you
want to pay me a compliment in Socratic
fashionto make me understand, to make me
acknowledge, that I am extremely absurd and
Not at all, replied Jarno; continue,
my friend, to answer to the point. So, what
happens then, when the orderly pile of wood
has been arranged solidly yet lightly?
Why, they set fire to it.
And when it is thoroughly alight, wffien
the flame bursts forth from every crevice, what
happens?do they let it burn on?
Not at all. They cover up the flames,
which keep breaking out again and again,
wuth turf and earth, with coal-dust, and any-
thing else at hand.
To quench them ?
'Not at all: to damp them dovm.
And thus they leave it just as much air as
is necessary, that all may be penetrated with
the glow^, so that all ferments aright. Then
every crevice is shut, every outlet prevented ;
so that the whole by degrees is extinguished
in itself, carbonized, cooled down, finally
taken out separately, as marketable ware, for-
warded to farrier and locksmith, to baker and
cook; and vrhen it has served sufficiently for
the profit and edification of dear Christendom,
is employed in the form of ashes by washer-
women and soapboilers.

Well, replied Wilhelm, laughing, what
have you in view in reference to this compari-
son ?
That is not difficult to say, replied
Jarno. I look upon myself as an old basket
of excellent beech charcoal; but in addition I
allow myself the privilege of burning only for
my own sake; whence also I appear very
strange to people.
And me, said Wilhelm; how will you
treat me ?
At the present moment, said Jarno, I
look on you as a pilgrims staff, which has the
wonderful property of sprouting in every cor-
ner in which it is put, but never taking root.
Now draw out the comparison further for
yourself, and learn to understand why neither
forester nor gardener, neither charcoal-burner
nor joiner, nor any other craftsman, knows
how to make anything of you.
Whilst they were talking thus, Wilhelm, I
do not know for what purpose, drew some-
thing out of his bosom which looked half like
a pocketbook and half like a case, and which
was claimed by Montan as an old acquaint-
ance. Our friend did not deny that he car-
ried it about like a kind of fetish, from the
superstition that his fate, in a certain measure,
depended thereon.
But what it was we would wish at this point
not to confide as yet to the reader; but we
may say thus much: that it led to a conversa-
tion, the final result of which was that Wilhelm
confessed how he had long ago been inclined
to devote himself to a certain special profes-
sion, an art of quite peculiar usefulness, pro-
vided that Montan would use his influence
with the guild-brethren, in order that the
most burdensome of all conditions of their
life, that of not tarrying more than three days
in one spot, might be dispensed with as soon
as possible, and that for the attainment of his
purpose, it might be allowed him to dwell
here or there as might please himself. This
Montan promised to do, after the other had
solemnly promised himself unceasingly to pur-
sue the aim which he had confidentially
avowed, and to hold most faithfully to the
purpose which he had once taken up.
Talking seriously of all this, and continually
replying to one another, they had left their
nights lodgings, where a wonderfully suspi-
cious company had by degrees gathered
together, and by daybreak had got outside
the wood on to an open space upon which
they found some game, at which Felix particu-
larly, who looked on delightedly, was very
glad. They now prepared to separate; for
here the paths led towards different points
of the compass. Fitz was now questioned
about the different directions, but he seemed
absent, and, contrary to his usual habit, he
gave confused answers.
You are nothing but a rogue, said
Jarno; you knew all of those men, last night,
who came and sat down about us. There
were woodcutters and miners, they might
pass; but the later ones I take to be smug-
glers and poachers, and the tall one, the very
last, who kept writing figures in the sand, and
whom the others treated with a certain re-
speCt, was surely a treasure-digger, with whom
you are secretly in concert.
They are all good people, Fitz there-
upon remarked, who live poorly, and if they
sometimes do what others forbid, they are
just poor devils, who must give themselves
some liberty, only to live.
In point of fad, however, the little rogue,
when he noticed the preparations of the friends
to separate, became thoughtful. He mused
quietly for a time, for he was in doubt as to
which of the parties he should follow. He
reckoned up his prospers: father and son
were liberal with their silver, but Jarno rather
with gold; he thought it the best plan not to
leave him. Accordingly, he at once seized
an opportunity that offered, when at parting
Jarno said to him: Now, when I come to
St. Josephs I shall see whether you are hon-
est : I shall look for the cross-stone and the
ruined altar.
You will not find anything, said Fitz,
and all the same I shall be honest; the
stone is from there, but I have taken away
all the pieces, and stored them up here. It
is a valuable stone; without it no treasure can
be dug up. For a little piece they pay me a
great deal. You were quite right; this is
how I came to be acquainted with the tall
Now there were fresh deliberations. Fitz
bound himself to Jarno, for an additional ducat,
to get at a moderate distance a large piece
of this rare mineral, on which account he ad-
vised them not to walk to the Giants Castle;
but, however, since Felix insisted on it, he
admonished the guide not to take the travellers
too deep into the region, for no one would
ever be able to find his way out again from
those caverns and abysses.
They separated, and Fitz promised to meet

them again, in good time, in the halls of the
Giants Castle.
The guide walked ahead, the two others
followed; the former, however, had scarcely
ascended a certain distance up the mountain,
when Felix observed that they were not walk-
ing on the path which Fitz had indicated.
The messenger replied, however: I ought
to know it better; for just these last few days
a violent tempest has knocked down the
next stretch of wood; the trees thrown one
across the other obstruct this path. Follow
me; I will bring you safely to the spot.
Felix shortened the difficulty of the road
by lively strides and jumps from rock to rock,
and rejoiced at the knowledge he had gained,
that he was adlually jumping from granite to
And so they went upwards, until he at last
stopped short upon some black ruined col-
umns, and all at once beheld before his eye
the Giants Castle. Pillared walls stood out
upon a solitary peak. Rows of connedled
columns formed doors within doors, aisles be-
yond aisles. The guide earnestly warned
them not to lose themselves in the interior;
and noticing at a sunny spot, commanding a
wide view, traces of ashes left by his prede-
cessors, he busied himself in keeping up a
crackling fire. He was accustomed to prepare
a frugal meal at spots of this kind, and whilst
Wilhelm was seeking more correct informa-
tion concerning the boundless prospect, Felix
had disappeared; he must have lost himself
within the cavern ; he did not answer their
shouting and whistling, and he did not appear
But Wilhelm, who, as beseems a pilgrim,
was prepared against various accidents, took
out of his hunting-wallet a ball of string, care-
fully tied it fast, and confided himself to this
guiding clue, by which he had already formed
the intention of taking his son into the inter-
ior. Thus he advanced, and from time to
time blew his whistle, but for a time in vain.
But at last there resounded from the depths a
shrill whistle, and soon after Felix looked out
on the ground from a cleft in the black rock.
Are you alone? whispered the boy, cau-
Quite alone, replied the father.
Give me some logs of wood! give me
some sticks! said the boy; and, on receiv-
ing them, disappeared, first exclaiming anx-
iously, Let nobody into the cave
But after a time he emerged again, and
asked for a still longer and stronger piece of
wood. His father waited anxiously for the
solution of this riddle. At last the bold fel-
low arose quickly from out of the cleft, and
brought out a little casket not bigger than a
small odtavo volume, of handsome antique
appearance; it seemed to be of gold, adorned
with enamel.
Hide it, father, and let no one see it!
Thereupon he hastily told how, from a
mysterious inner impulse, he had crept into
the cleft, and found underneath a dimly-
lighted space. In it there stood, he said, a
large iron chest, not indeed locked, but the
lid of which he could not raise, and indeed
could hardly move. It was for the sake of
mastering this that he had asked for the
wood, partly to place them as supports under
the lid, and partly to push them as wedges
between; finally, he had found the box empty,
save in one corner of it the ornamented little
book. About this they mutually promised
profound secrecy.
Noon was past; they had partaken of some
food; Fitz had not yet come as he had prom-
ised; but Felix was particularly restless, long-
ing to get away from the spot in which the
treasure seemed exposed to earthly or un-
earthly claim. The columns seemed to him
blacker, and the caverns still deeper. A secret
had been laid upon him : a possessionlawful
or unlawful? safe or unsafe? Impatience
drove him from the spot; he thought that he
should get rid of his anxiety by changing his
They entered upon the road leading to
those extensive possessions of the great land-
owner,of whose riches and eccentricities they
had been told so much. Felix no longer leaped
about as in the 'morning, and all three for
hours walked silently on. Sometimes he
wished to see the little casket, but his father,
pointing to the porter, bade him be quiet.
Now he was full of anxiety that Fitz should
come. Then again he was afraid of the rogue ;
now he would whistle to give a signal, then
again he would repent having done it; and so
his wavering continued until Fitz at last made
his whistle heard in the distance. He excused
his own absence from the Giants Castle: he
had been belated with Jarno; want of breath
had hindered him. Then he inquired min-
utely how they had got on among the columns
and the caveshow deep they had penetrated.
Felix, half in bravado, half in embarrassment,
told him one tale after another; he looked


smilingly at his father, pinched him by stealth,
and did all that was possible to make it clear
that he had a secret, and was feigning.
They had at last reached a carriage-road,
which ought to have taken them comfortably
to those domains; but Fitz declared that he
knew a nearer and better road: upon which
the porter would not accompany them, but
continued on the straight broad beaten road
before him. The two wanderers trusted the in-
dependent youth, and thought that they had
done well, for now they went straight down
the mountain-side, through a forest of very
tall thin-stemmed larches, which became every
moment more penetrable to the sight, and at
last allowed them to see, in the most brilliant
sunlight, the loveliest demesne that can be
A large garden, devoted entirely as it
seemed to the cultivation of produce, lay
open, although plentifully planted with fruit-
trees, before their eyes; and, regularly arranged
in a number of divisions, covered an area of
ground which, while it accorded with a gen-
eral plan, was varied by many diversities of
hill and hollow.
Several dwelling-houses lay scattered within
it, so that the space seemed to belong to sev-
eral owners, but yet, as Fitz declared, was
owned and tilled by one single master. Be-
yond the garden they beheld a boundless land-
scape, richly cultivated and planted. They
could plainly discern various lakes and rivers.
As they walked down the mountain they
had got continually nearer, and thought that
they would be in the garden diredtly, when
Wilhelm started, and Fitz did not hide his
malignant glee ; for a precipitous cleft at the
foot of the mountain disclosed itself before
them, steep enough from the outside, although
from inside fully on a level with the ground.
Thus a deep ditch separated them from the
garden, into which they directly looked.
We shall have to make rather a long cir-
cuit, said Fitz, if we want to reach the
road which leads into it. Still, I also know

an entrance from this side, which will be a
good deal nearer for us. The tunnels through
which the rain-water is regulated as it rushes
into the garden when it rains are on this side;
they are high and wide enough for one to get
through them pretty easily.
As soon as Felix heard about tunnels he
could not dismiss his curiosity to enter in this
way. Wilhelm followed the children, and
they descended together the steep steps, now
lying dry, of these conduit-tunnels. They
found themselves alternately in light and
darkness, according as the light fell through
side-openings, or was intercepted by columns
and walls. At last they reached a tolerably
level part, and were walking slowly forwards,
when suddenly close to them a report was
heard, and two hidden iron gratings closed
and shut them in on either side. Not indeed
the whole company, but only Felix and Wil-
helm were imprisoned; for Fitz, as soon as the
noise was heard, sprang back at once, and the
closing grating caught only his large sleeves;
but he, throwing off his jacket very quickly,
escaped without waiting a moment.
The two captives had scarcely time to re-
cover from their astonishment, when they
heard human voices, which seemed to ap-
proach slowly. Then presently came some
people with arms and torches to the grating,
looking curiously to see what sort of capture
they had made. They at once asked whether
they would quietly surrender.
There can be no question of surrender
here, replied Wilhelm; we are in your
power. We rather have reason to ask whether
you will spare us. I deliver unto you the only
weapon that we carry with us, and with these
words he handed his hunting-knife through the
grating. This was at once opened, and quite
leisurely the new-comers were taken onwards,
and after being led up a winding stair, they
soon found themselves in a curious place. It
was a neat, spacious room, lit by small win-
dows beneath the cornices, which in spite of
strong iron bars shed sufficient light. For
seats, sleeping-places, and whatever else could
be required in a decent lodging, provision had
been made, and it seemed as if nothing was
wanting to one who found himself there but
his liberty.
Wilhelm on entering, at once sat down and
thought over the situation. Felix, on the
contrary, when he had recovered from his as-
tonishment, broke out .into an incredible
rage. These high walls, those lofty windows,
these barred doors, this isolation, this confine-
mentwas altogether new to him. He looked
about, he ran hither and thither, stamped his
feet, wept, rattled at the doors, beat with his
fists against them; nay, he was on the point
of running with his forehead against them, if
Wilhelm had not caught him, and forcibly
held him back.
Only keep yourself quite quiet, my son,
began his father, for impatience and violence
will not help us out of this situation. The
mystery will clear itself up; but I should be
very much mistaken, if we have not fallen into
good hands. Look at these inscriptions:
Deliverance and compensation for the inno-
cent, Pity for the tempted, and Retribu-
tive justice for the culprit. All this shows us
that these arrangements are works of necessity,
and not of cruelty. Man has only too much
cause to protedl himself against man. Of
malevolent people there are indeed many,
and of evildoers not a few; and to live as it
behoves, it is not enough always to do well.
Felix had colledted himself, but threw him-
self at once upon one of the beds, without any
further demonstration or reply. Plis father
did not desist, but said further:
Let this experience, which you are gaining
so early and so innocently, remain with you
as living evidence of which and of what a
perfedl century you have been born in.
What a long road has not humanity been
forced to make, before it reached the point
of being gentle to the guilty, merciful to the
culprit, humane to the inhuman They cer-
tainly were men of a divine nature who first
taught this, and spent their lives in making
possible and hastening its pradlice. Men are
seldom susceptible of the beautiful; more
often of the good; and how highly must we
then hold those who seek to promote this at
the cost of great sacrifices.
These comforting, instrudtive words, which
quite clearly expressed the purpose of the con-
fining surroundings, Felix had not heard.
He lay fast asleep, prettier and fresher than
ever; for a passion, such as in general he was
not easily subjedl to, had driven his whole in-
ner being into his full cheeks. His father
stood looking complacently at him, when' a
well-dressed young man entered, who, after he
had looked for a while at the stranger in a
friendly manner, began to ask him about the
circumstances that had led him on the un-
usual path into this trap. Wilhelm told him
about the occurrence straightforwardly, handed

him certain papers which served to declare his
identity, and referred him to the porter, who
must soon arrive by the ordinary road from
the other side. When all this was clear so far,
the official begged his guest to follow him.
It was impossible to arouse Felix; the servants
therefore carried him upon the strong mat-
tress, like the unconscious Ulysses of old, into
the open air.
Wilhelm followed the official into a pretty
garden, where refreshments were set out,
which he was bidden to enjoy, whilst the
other went to deliver his report at headquar-
ters. When Felix, on awaking, beheld a little
table laid out with fruit, wine and biscuits, as
also the cheerful prospedl through the open
door, he felt quite bewildered. He runs out,
he returns, he thinks he has been dreaming,
and over such good fare and such pleasant
surroundings has soon forgotten his previous
terror and all his sorrow, like an unpleasant
dream in broad daylight.
The porter had arrived, the official returned
with him, and with another older and still
mo-re kindly man; and the matter was cleared
up in the following manner. The master of
this estate, benevolent in the higher sense, in
that he aroused all about him to adtivity and in-
dustry, had for many years disposed of young
plants from his extensive nursery-gardento
industrious and careful cultivators for nothing
to the negligent at a certain priceand like-
wise at a price, though a low one, to those
who wished to trade with them. These two
latter classes, however, demanded gratuitously
what only the worthy received gratuitously,
and as they were not yielded to they sought to
purloin the plants. They had succeeded in
doing so in various manners. This vexed the
owner all the more, because not only were the
nurseries plundered, but by excessive haste
had also been injured. There were traces of
their having entered through the water-chan-
nel, and on that account the grating with a
spring-gun had been arranged, though it was
only meant to serve as a symbol. The little boy
had under many pretexts allowed himself to be
seen in the garden, and nothing was more
natural than that, from audacity and roguery,
he should wish to take the strangers by a road
which he had found out earlier, with a differ-
ent objedt in view. They had wished to
make him prisoner; meanwhile, his jacket
would be preserved amongst other penal ob-
On the road to the castle, our friend, to his
' astonishment, found nothing that would have
; resembled an older pleasure-garden or a mod-
: ern park. Upon a gently sloping space he
beheld, in one glance, fruit-trees planted in
: straight lines, vegetable beds, large plots sown
i with medicinal herbs, and only what could be
! esteemed useful in some way or other. A
space, shaded round by tall lime-trees, ex-
panded like an entrance-hall worthy of the
fine building; a long alley leading out of it
with trees of similar growth and beauty af-
forded an opportunity, at every hour of the
day, of taking exercise or strolling in the
open air. On entering the castle, he found
the walls of the ground floor covered in a pe-
culiar fashion: large geographical drawings
of all the four quarters of the world met his
eye. The walls of the stately staircase were
similarly adorned with maps of particular
' countries; and on being admitted into the
principal hall, he found himself surrounded
bv views of the most remarkable cities, en-
: closed above and below by landscape pictures
! of the neighborhoods in which they were
' situated; all depicted with such art, that the
peculiarities of each distinctly met the eye,
; and at the same time an uninterrupted con-
! nedtion was perceptible throughout. The
i master of the house, a cheerful little man,
; somewhat advanced in years, welcomed his
guest, and asked, without further introduction,
pointing to the walls, whether by chance one
of these towns were known to him; whether
he had ever lived in any of them? Of many
of them our friend was now able to give an
account at length, and prove that he had not
j only seen several of the places, but also that
| he had not negledted to observe carefully their
condition and peculiarities.
The master rang, and ordered that a room
should be assigned to the two guests; and that
presently they should be shown in to supper,
which was accordingly done. In a large hall
on the ground floor two ladies advanced to-
wards him, one of whom said to him with
great liveliness: Here you will find little
j company, but good. I, the younger niece,
' am called Hersilia; this my elder sister is
j named Julietta; the two gentlemen are father
I and son, officials, as you knowfriends of the
family, who enjoy all the confidence that they
deserve. Let us sit down ! The two ladies
placed Wilhelm between them, the officials

sat at the ends, Felix at the other side, where
he at once moved himself opposite to Hersilia,
and never took his eyes off her.
After some general preliminary talk, Her-
silia seized an opportunity of saying: In
order that the stranger may the sooner become
familiar with us, and initiated into our con-
versation, I must acknowledge that we read a
great deal here, and that by accident, incli-
nation, and perhaps also from a spirit of con-
tradiction, we have divided ourselves amongst
the different literatures. Our uncle has taken
to the Italian; this lady, here, does not take
it ill to be thought a perfedt Englishwoman;
but I hold to the French, in so far as they are
cheerful and elegant. Papa-steward here re-
joices in German antiquities, and the son is
thus able, as is fitting, to devote his sympathy
to the more modern and younger. You will
judge of us accordingly, take part accord-
ingly, agree or dispute; in every sense you
will be welcome. And in this sense, too,
the conversation grew animated.
In the meantime the diredlion of the hand-
some Felixs ardent glances had by no means
escaped Hersilia; she felt surprised and flat-
tered, and sent him the most delicate morsels,
which he gladly and thankfully received.
But at dessert, as he was looking towards her
across a dish of apples, she fancied that in the
splendid fruit she beheld so many rivals.
Quick as thought she seized an apple, and
reached it across the table to the enterprising
youth. He, seizing it hastily, at once began
to peel it; but as he looked unremittingly at
his lovely opposite neighbor, he cut himself
deeply in the thumb. The blood flowed
quickly: Hersilia jumped up and attended to
him, and when the blood had been stopped,
she closed the wound with English plaster
from her case. In the meantime the boy had
caught hold of her and would not let her go;
the interruption became general, the com-
pany rose from the table, and preparations
were made to separate.
I suppose you read before going to sleep,
said Hersilia to Wilhelm; I will send you a
manuscript, a translation from the French by
myself, and you shall say whether you have
ever met with anything prettier. A distradled
girl enters upon the scenethat perhaps
might not be any particular recommendation;
but if I ever should become demented, as I
sometimes have a wish to be, it would be in
this manner.
the witless wanderer
~ c.-***, ft>
private gentleman, possesses the
finest estates in his province.
Together with his son and sister,
he inhabits a chateau that would be worthy
of a prince; and, in fa<5l, as his park, his water-
works, his farms, his manufadlures, and his
household, support one-half the inhabitants
for six miles round, he is, by his high repute
and by the good that he causes, a prince in
A few years ago he was walking along the
walls of his park out towards the public road,
and it pleased him to rest himself in a little
plantation in which travellers are fond of
stopping awhile. Tall trees rear their tops
above the young dense undergrowth; pro-
vision is made against sun and wind, and a
modestly-fitted fountain gives forth its water
over the roots, stones, and turf.
The pedestrian, according to his wont,
carried with him a book and gun. Now and


then he attempted to read, but often the song
of the birds, and sometimes the steps of a
traveller, pleasantly interrupted and disturbed
A beautiful morning was fast advancing,
when a youthful and amiable-looking young
lady appeared walking towards him. She left
the road, seeming to promise herself rest and
refreshment at the cool spot where he was.
This wanderer, who had the loveliest eyes in
the world, and a face pleasingly animated by
expression, was also distinguished to such a
degree by figure and demeanor, that he invol-
untarily got up from his seat and looked
towards the road to see if the attendants,
whom he supposed to be behind her, were
coming. As she bowed towards him with
dignity, her figure again attracted his atten-
tion, and he respectfully answered her greet-
ing. The beautiful wayfarer sat down on the
margin of the fountain with a sigh, without
uttering a word.
Strange effeCt of sympathy! exclaimed
Herr von Revanne, as he told me the event:
in the stillness this sigh was echoed by me.
I remained standing, without knowing what I
ought to say or do. My eyes did not avail
me to take in all her perfections. Lying thus
reclined and resting on her elbow, she was the
most beauteous female form one could im-
agine Her shoes gave occasion for special
observation on my part: all covered with
dust, they bore witness to her having walked
a long distance ; and still her silken stockings
were as shining as if they just then had been
taken from beneath the smoothing-stone. Her
fastened-up dress was not rumpled; her hair
seemed to have been curled that very morn-
ing ; fine linen, fine lace: she was dressed as
if she were going to a ball. Nothing betrayed
in her the vagabond; and yet she was one,
but one to be pitied and revered.
At last I took advantage of certain
glances which she cast towards me, to ask if
she were travelling alone.
Yes, sir, said she, I am alone in the
How, madam? Can you be without
parents, without acquaintances?
I should not exaCtly say that, sir;
parents I have, and acquaintances enough,
but no friends.
That, I continued, cannot possibly
be your own fault. You possess an outward
form, and surely too a heart, to which much
would be forgiven.
She felt the kind of reproof which was
hidden beneath my compliment, and I formed
a favorable idea of her good-breeding. She
opened towards me two heavenly eyes of the
most perfeCt and purest azure, transparent and
sparkling; then she said in a dignified tone,
that she could not blame a gentleman, as I
seemed to be, for looking with some degree
of suspicion on a young girl whom he met
alone on the high road; that had often hap-
pened to her already; still, although entirely
a stranger, although nobody had any right to
cross-question her, she nevertheless begged
him to believe that the objeCl of her journey
was consistent with the strictest decorum.
Certain causes, of which she owed nobody an
account, compelled her to carry her grief
about in the world. She had found that the
dangers that people used to fear for her sex
were purely imaginary, and that the honor of
a woman even among highwaymen only ran a
risk through weakness of heart or of prin-
ciples. Moreover, she only walked at hours
and on roads where she thought herself safe;
that she did not speak to everybody, and often
stayed at respectable places, where she could
earn her maintenance by services of any sort
consistent with her education. Here she
lowered her voice; she dropped her eyelids,
and I saw a few tears steal down her cheek.
To this I replied that I by no means
doubted her gentle extraction, and still less
her honorable conduCt. I only regretted that
any necessity should compel her to serve
other people, since she seemed so worthy of
having servants herself; and that notwith-
standing a lively curiosity, I would not fur-
ther press her; that I wished rather by know-
ing her better to convince myself that she was
in all respeCts as anxious about her reputation
as her virtue. These words seemed again to
offend her, for she answered that she con-
cealed her name and her country precisely on
account of her reputation, which after all
generally comprises less of reality than of
supposition. When she offered her services
she showed testimonials from the last houses
in which she had served, and did not conceal
that she wished not to be asked about her
country or her family. To this people accom-
modated themselves, and left to Heaven or to
her own word the innocence of her whole
life, and her honesty. Expressions of this
kind did not cause a suspicion of any mental
derangement on the part of the beautiful ad-

Herr von Revanne, who could not well
understand this determination to wander
about in the world, suspedted now that there
had been an intention of marrying her against
her inclination. Thereupon the thought oc-
curred to him, might it not be despair from
love? and wonderfully enough, though such a
thing lias happened before, in giving her
credit for loving another, he fell in love with
her himself, and feared lest she might travel
further away. He could not turn his eyes
away from her fair face, the beauty of which
was enhanced by the green half-light. Never,
if ever there were nymphs, was a fairer one
seen reclining on the green sward ; and the
somewhat romantic nature of this meeting en-
dued it with a charm which he was unable to
So, without considering the thing very
carefully, Herr von Revanne induced the fair
stranger to let him conduct her to the chateau.
She makes no difficulty; she goes with him,
and shows herself to be a person acquainted
with the great world. Refreshments are
brought, which she accepts without affedled
politeness and with the most graceful acknowl-
edgments. Whilst waiting for dinner she is
shown over the house. She only remarks on
what deserves special notice, whether in fur-
niture or pictures, or in something pertaining
to the convenient arrangement of the rooms.
She finds a library: she knows the good
books, she speaks about them with taste and
modesty. No chattering, no embarrassment.
At table, just the same high-bred and natural
demeanor, and the most amiable style of con-
versation. So far, everything is rational in
her speech, and her character seems as ami-
able as her person.
After dinner a little trait of self-will made
her seem still prettier. Turning to Fraulein
Revanne with a smile, she said that it was a
custom of hers to pay for her mid-day meal
with some work, and whenever money failed
her, to ask her hostesses for needles. Allow
me, she added, Ho leave a flower behind on
your embroidery frame, so that in future the
sight of it may remind you of the poor
To this Fraulein Revanne replied, that
she was very sorry that she had no pattern
drawn, and should therefore be obliged to
forego the pleasure of admiring her ability.
The wanderer immediately turned her
glance towards the piano.
Then I shall discharge my debt in
I wind-money, she said, as has been the
J fashion of other strolling minstrels before
! now. She tried the instrument with two or
' three preludes that showed a well-pradlised
hand. There was no longer any doubt but
that she was a young lady of condition, en-
dowed with all attractive accomplishments.
At first her performance was lively and bril-
: liant; then she passed into serious tones, to
| tones of deep melancholy, which was also
visible in her eyes. They became wet with
tears, her face was changed, her fingers stayed;
but of a sudden she surprised every one by
delivering merrily and laughingly a bantering
song with the loveliest voice in the world.
As there may be reason in the sequel for
thinking that this burlesque ballad concerned
herself more closely, I shall probably be par-
doned for inserting it here:*
O thou in cloak, so speedy, whence!
Ere scarce the day begins to break?
A pilgrimage our friend, perchance,
In this keen wind has vowed to make.
Who of his hat has him deprived?
Does he on purpose barefoot go ?
How has he in the wood arrived
Across the hilly waste of snow ?
Right marvellous, from cosy nest,
Which did to better cheer invite!
And had he not this flowing vest,
How terrible would be his plight!
Thru rascal must have him betrayed,
And taken all he had to wear;
Our friend is piteously arrayed,
Nigh like to Adam, stark and bare.
Why did he, then, such ways pursue,
To pluck an apple full of woe
That in the mill-plotfair, t is true,
As erst in Paradisedid grow.
Not soon again such sport hell try:
Forth from the house he cpiickly went,
And, once beneath the open sky,
Breaks out in loud and bitter plaint:
Amid her looks, so full of light,
I read no syllable of guile;
In me she seemed to have delight
And planned so black a deed the while!
Could I divine, in her embrace,
How treacherously her bosom moved ?
She called on Love to stay his pace,
And kind enough to us he proved.
Such pleasure in my love to take,
Which neer did end the livelong night,
Then call and bid her mother wake,
Just at the dawn of morning light!
* Goethe inserted a version of this ballad in Schillers
Musenalmanach for 1799, before he translated the story7.
The French original is La Folle en Pelerinage.

A dozen round of kith and kin
burst ina very human hood:
Here brothers caine, and aunts peeped in;
There cousins or an uncle stood.
What rage and madness on them camel
A very beast each seemed to be:
Then wreath and garland they did claim,
With din most horrible, from me.
Why do ye all, as if insane,
Upon a guiltless youth so press?
Tor such-like treasures to obtain,
One needs, I trow, much more address,
And Amor sure enough takes heed
Of when to have his pretty will;
And flowers of sixteen years indeed
He leaves not standing at the mill.
So did they him of clothing rob,
And tried to take his cloak and all;
How eer did such a cursed mob
Into the narrow dwelling crawl?
So up I sprang, and raved and swore
Through all, I wis, to force my way.
I gave the mad girl one glance more,
And ah, so lovely still she lay!
before my wrath they all were cowed,
Yet many a wild word flew about;
And so, with voice as thunder loud,
The den at last I got without.
You maidens, then, of rustic sort,
Like city wenches, one must flee;
Yet fooling lovers is a sport
best left to dames of high degree;

And if to practise ye arc fain,
And know no gentle faith in love,
Change lovers oer and oer again,
But traitors must ye never prove!
So sings he in this wintry tide,
When neer a sorry blade is green;
His dire misfortunes I deride,
For rightly is he served, I ween.
So may it hap to every wight
Who sweetheart true by day deludes,
And all too recklessly by night
Into loves treacherous mill intrudes.
'It was indeed ominous that she could for-
get herself in such a fashion; and this out-
break might have served for an indication
of a head that was not at all times equal to
But,said Herr von Revanne to me,
we also forgot all remarks that we might
have made: I do not know how it came to
pass. The unspeakable grace with which she
performed these freaks must have prejudiced
us. She played fantastically, but with under-
standing. She controlled her fingers com-
pletely, and her voice was really bewitching.
When she had finished, she seemed as com-
posed as before, and we thought that she had
only wished to enliven the after-dinner inter-
Soon after she asked for permission to
resume her journey; but at a sign from me
my sister said that, if she was not in a hurry,
it would be a treat to us to have her with us
for several days. I thought of offering her
some occupation, since for once she agreed to
remain. Yet this first day and the following
one we only took her about the place. She
never belied herself for one single moment;
she was Reason endued with every grace.
Her mind was subtle and striking, her mem-
ory so well stored, and her disposition so
beautiful, that she repeatedly aroused our
admiration, and fettered all our attention.
Moreover, she knew the rules of good be-
havior, and practised them towards every one
of us, and no less towards certain friends who
visited us, so perfedlly, that we found it im-
possible to reconcile her singularities with
such a degree of education.
I really no longer ventured to suggest
any plans for household occupation with us.
My sister, who was much pleased with her,
likewise thought it her duty to spare the deli-
cate feelings of this unknown. They managed
the household affairs together, and with
respedl to these the good child would often
condescend to perform manual -work, and
understood how to take her part in everything
which required higher arrangement and calcu-
In a short time she established a degree
of order, such as we had hitherto certainly
not felt the want of in the chateau. She was
a very sensible housekeeper; and, as she had
commenced with sitting at table with us, she
did not, from false modesty, withdraw herself
now, but continued to dine with us without
any hesitation; but she did not touch any
cards or instrument before she had brought to
an end the duties which she had undertaken.
Now, I must freely confess that the fate
of this girl began to move me most pro-
foundly. I pitied the parents, who probably
would sorely miss such a daughter; I sighed
that such gentle virtues and so many endow-
ments should be lost. She had already lived
several months with us, and I hoped that the
confidence with which we sought to inspire
her would at last bring the secret to her lips.
If it were a misfortune, we might help; if a
fault, it was to be hoped that our mediation,
our testimony, might be able to gain forgive-
ness for her for any transient error; but all
our assurances of friendship, our prayers even,
were in vain. If she perceived an intention
of winning an explanation from her, she
would shelter herself behind general morali-
zations, in order to justify herself, without
informing us. For instance, if we spoke to
her about her ill-fortune: Misfortune, she
would say, falls upon both good and evil.
It is a potent medicine, which attacks the
good juices along with the bad.
If we tried to discover the reason of her
flight from her paternal home: If the deer
flies, she said, laughing, it is not therefore
guilty. If we asked whether she had suffered
persecutions: It is the fate of many girls of
good birth to experience and endure perse-
cutions. He who cries at an offence will meet
with more. But how could she have made
up her mind to expose her life to the rough-
ness of the multitude, or at least to owe it
often to its compassion ? At this she would
laugh again, and say, The poor man who
greets the rich at table does not lack sense.
Once, as the conversation turned to jest, we
spoke to her of lovers, and asked whether she
did not know the chilly hero of her ballad.
I still remember well how this word seemed to
cut through her. She opened towards me a
pair of eyes, so serious, so severe, that mine
3 2

could not endure such a glance; and after-
wards, too, whenever love was spoken of, one
was sure to see the grace of her person and
the vivacity of her spirit overclouded. She
immediately fell into thoughtfulness, which
we took for brooding, but which probably was
only grief. Still, upon the whole, she remained
cheerful, but without great liveliness; high-
bred, without giving herself importance;
frank without communicativeness, reserved
without sensitiveness; rather patient than
meek, and more grateful than affe&ionate in
return for all caresses and courtesies. She
was certainly a lady, educated to preside over
a large household; and yet she did not seem
older than one-and-twenty. So did this in-
comprehensible young person, who had quite
captivated me, show herself during the two
years which it pleased her to stay with us;
until she wound up with a piece of folly,
which is all the more strange as her qualities
were sterling and brilliant. My son, who is
younger than I, will be able to console him-
self, but as concerns myself, I fear that I shall
be weak enough to miss her always.
Now I will relate this aCt of folly in a
sensible woman, to show that folly often is
nothing but reason under another exterior.
It is true that one will find a strange contra-
diction between the noble character of the
pilgrim and the comical cunning of which she
availed herself; but we already know two of
her inconsistenciesthe pilgrimage itself and
the ballad.
It is probably clear that Herr von Revanne
had fallen in love with the stranger. Now, he
could not altogether rely upon his face, which
was fifty years old, although he looked as fresh
and robust as a man of thirty; but perhaps he
hoped to please by his pure, childlike health,
by the goodness, cheerfulness, gentleness,
generosity of his character; perhaps also by
his fortune, although he had delicacy enough
to feel, that one does not buy what is price-
But the son, on the other hand, amiable,
tender, high-spirited, without taking more
thought than his father, rushed headlong into
the venture. First he tried prudently to win
the unknown one who had first become really
appreciated by him through the praise and
the friendship of his father and aunt. He
made sincere efforts to gain an amiable
woman, whom his passion seemed to have
raised far above her present condition. Her
severity more than her merits and her beauty,
inflamed his love; he ventured to speak, to
undertake, to promise.
The father, without wishing it himself,
always gave to his wooing a somewhat pater-
nal aspeCt. He knew himself, and when he
had become aware of his rival, he could not
hope to conquer him, unless he were willing
to adopt means which do not beseem a man
of principle. Nevertheless he pursued his
course, although it was not unknown to him
that kindness, nay, even fortune, are only
attractions to which a young woman yields
herself with caution; but which remain inef-
fectual as soon as love reveals itself with the
charms of, and accompanied by, youth.
Herr von Revanne also made other mistakes,
which he repented later. In the midst of a
friendship full of esteem, he spoke of a last-
ing, secret, legal union. He even com-
plained, and uttered the word ingratitude.
Surely he did not know her whom he loved,
when one day he said to her, that many bene-
factors received back evil for good. The
Unknown answered him with frankness:
Many benefaCtors would like to acquire all
the rights of their proteges at the price of a
lentil. The beautiful stranger, involved in
the courtship of two rivals, induced by un-
known motives, seems to have had no other
intention but to spare herself and others any
foolish pranks, and in these doubtful circum-
stances adopted a wonderful expedient. The
son pressed her with the boldness of his age,
and threatened, as usual, to sacrifice his life
to the inexorable one. The father, somewhat
less unreasonable, was still equally pressing;
both were in earnest. This amiable creature
might now probably have assured herself of a
well-deserved position of life; for both the
Herren von Revanne aver that it had been
their intention to marry her.
But from the example of this girl let
woman learn that an honest soul, even if the
mind should have given way to vanity or to
real derangement, does not cherish the
wounds of the heart which it is not willing
to heal. The pilgrim felt that she was stand-
ing at a critical point, where it would not be
so easy for her to defend herself long. She
was in the power of two lovers, who could ex-
cuse every pressure with the purity of their
motives, inasmuch as they intended to justify
their boldness by a sanClified tie. So it was,
and so she understood it.
She could shelter herself behind Fraulein
von Revanne; but she omitted to do so, no

Wilhelm Master s Iran els.
doubt from consideration, from esteem for
her benefactors. She is not put out of coun-
tenance; she thinks out a method for pre-
serving to each his virtue, whilst she allows
her own to be suspected. She is mad with a
fidelity which her lover certainly does not de-
serve, if he feels not all her sacrifices, even if
they should remain unknown to him.
One day, as Herr von Revanne returned
somewhat too impetuously the friendship, the
gratitude, which she showed towards him, she
assumed on a sudden a simple manner, which
struck him. Your goodness, sir, alarms me;
and allow me frankly to confess why. I feel
indeed that only to you I owe my whole
gratitude; but in faCt
Cruel girl! said Herr von Revanne. I
understand you; my son has touched your
Alas! sir, it has not stopped there. I
can only express by my confusion
How? Mademoiselle, you would
Indeed, I think so, said she, as she bent
low down and dropped a tearfor women are
never at a loss for a tear in their artifices, nor
for an excuse for their evil-doing.
Smitten with love as Herr von Revanne
was, still he was forced to wonder at this new
kind of innocent sincerity in such circum-
stances, and he found the lowly posture very
much in place.
But, mademoiselle, it is quite incom-
prehensible to me.
To me too, said she, and the tears
flowed more abundantly. They flowed so
long that at last Herr von Revanne, after a
very unpleasant reverie, again broke silence
with a quiet air, and said:
This enlightens me! I see how ridicu-
lous are my pretensions. I bestow on you no
reproaches; and, as the only penalty for the
grief which you cause me, I promise you so
much of his inheritance as is necessary to
show whether he loves you as much as I.
Alas, sir, have pity on my innocence,
and tell him nothing about it.
To ask for secrecy is not the means to
obtain it. After these steps, the fair Unknown
now expected to see her lover before her full
of anger and highly incensed. He soon ap-
peared with a look which augured annihilating
words. However, he was choked, and could
bring out no more than, How, mademoiselle,
is it possible?
Well, what is it, sir? she said, with a laugh,
which on such an occasion can provoke despair.
How? What is it? Away! mademoiselle;
you are a nice creature! But at least legiti-
mate children are not to be disinherited; it is
quite enough to accuse them. Yes, made-
moiselle, I see through your conspiracy with
my father. You two give me a son, and he
is my brother. Of that I am certain.
With the same quiet cheerful countenance
the lovely unwise one answered him, You are
certain of nothing: it is neither your son nor
your brother. Boys are naughty; I have
never wanted one. It is a poor little girl that
1 will take away, far away, quite far from
menwicked, foolish, faithless men.
Then, giving free vent to her heart:
Farewell, she continued, farewell, dear
Revanne! From nature you have an honest
heart; keep to the principles of uprightness.
These are not dangerous with well-established
wealth. Be kind towards the poor. He who
despises the prayer of troubled innocence,
will one day himself beg, and not be listened
to. He who has no scruple in setting at
naught the scruples of an unprotected girl,
will himself become the victim of unscru-
pulous women. He who does not feel what a
chaste girl must feel when she is being wooed,
deserves not to gain her. He who, against
all reason, against the intentions, against the
design of his family, construes schemes in
behalf of his own passions, deserves to be de-
prived of the fruits of his passions, and to
lose the esteem of his family. I believe in-
deed that you have loved me sincerely; but,
my dear Revanne, the cat knows well whose
beard it licks; and if you ever become the
beloved of a worthy wife, then remember the
mill of the unfaithful one. Learn from my ex-
ample to rely on the constancy and discretion
of your beloved. You know whether I am
unfaithful; your father knows it also. I in-
tended to roam through the world and to ex-
pose myself to all dangers; surely the greatest
are those which threatened me in this house.
But because you are young I tell it to you
only and in confidence: men and women are
only unfaithful of set purpose; and that I
wanted to prove to the friend of the mill,
who perhaps will see me again, when his heart
will have become sufficiently pure to miss
what he has lost.
Young Revanne still listened, though she
had finished speaking. He stood as if struck
by lightning; tears at last unclosed his eyes,
and in this state of emotion he ran to his
aunt, his father, to tell them that mademoiselle

was going away, that mademoiselle was an
angel, or rather a demon, roaming about in
the world in order to torture the hearts of
everybody. But the wanderer had taken her
measures sowell that she was not found again; I
and when father and son had come to a mu- j
tual explanation, her innocence, her talents, ;
and her insanity, were no longer doubted;
and, great as were the pains that Herr von
Revanne took from that time, he did not suc-
ceed in obtaining the least enlightenment in
reference to this beautiful person, who had
made her appearance as transiently and in as
lovely a form as an angel.
After a long and thorough rest, of which
the travellers might well stand in need, Felix
jumped actively out of his bed, and made
haste to dress himself; and, as his father
thought he noticed, with more care than hith-
erto. Nothing fitted him neatly or smartly
enough : he would have liked everything to be
newer and less worn. He sprang into the
garden, and only tasted on the way a little
of the first meal, which the servant had
brought for the guests, since the ladies would
not appear in the garden for another hour.
The servant was accustomed to entertain
strangers, and to show many of the things in
the house; so he condudled our friends also
into a gallery, in which only portraits were
hung up and exhibitedall of persons who
had worked in the eighteenth centurya large
and glorious company ; pictures and busts as
well, when possible, by excellent masters.
You will not find, said the keeper, in
the whole castle, a single picture that points
even distantly to religion, tradition, mythol-
ogy, legend or fable: our master wishes that
the imaginative power shall only be required
to make present to itself the True. We deal
enough in ficlion, he is wont to say, without
needing to exalt still higher this dangerous
quality of our intelledl by external stimu-
Wilhelms question, when they might ex-
pe6l him down, he answered with the
information that his master, according to his
habit, had ridden out quite early. He was
accustomed to say: Observation is life!
You will see this and other maxims, in
which he reflects himself, written in the fields
above the gates-as for instance we forthwith
light upon: From the Useful, through the
True, to the Beautiful.
The women had already prepared the break-
fast under the lime-trees; Felix frolicked
about them, trying by all sorts of follies and
extravagances to bring himself forward so as
to get a warning or a reproof from Plersilia.
The sisters now tried by frankness and com-
municativeness to gain the confidence of their
taciturn guest, who pleased them; they told
him about a favorite cousin, who had been
three years absent, and was presently expedled
home; about a worthy aunt, who lived in her
castle at no great distance, and was to be re-
garded as the tutelary genius of the family.
In a state of bodily decay, she was described
as being in blooming health of spirit, just as
if the voice of a primeval sibyl no longer
visible were to utter, quite simply, pure divine
words on human things.
The new guest now turned his conversation
and questions to the present. He wished to
know the noble uncle more closely in a purely
distindlive activity: he thought of the road
which he had pointed out, From the Useful,
through the True, to the Beautiful, and
sought to interpret the words after his own
fashionin which, moreover, he succeeded
quite well, and had the good fortune to gain
Juliettas approval.
Hersilia, who up to this time had remained
silently smiling, replied on the other hand:
We women are in a peculiar position. We
hear the maxims of men continually repeated,
nay, we have to behold them in gilt letters
above our heads, and yet we girls might be
able in private to say the very reverse, which
would also pass current, as is precisely the
case in the present instance. The Beautiful
maiden finds admirers, also suitors, and pro-
bably at last a husband; then she arrives at
the True, which may not prove to be the
pleasantest possible, and if she is wise she
will devote herself to the Useful, attend to
house and children, and in this abide. At
least I have often found it so. We girls have
time to observe, and then we generally find
what we did not look for.
A messenger from the uncle arrived with
the news that the whole party was invited to
dinner at a neighboring hunting-box; they
could either ride or drive thither.
Hersilia chose to ride. Felix also begged
urgently that they would give him a horse. It
was agreed that Julietta should drive with

Wilhelm, and that Felix as a page should be
indebted for his first ride to the lady of his
young heart.
In the meantime Julietta drove with her
new friend through a series of plantations that
all pointed to utility and enjoyment; nay, the
innumerable fruit-trees made it doubtful
whether the fruit could ever all be consumed.
You have passed through such a wonder-
ful ante-chamber into our society, and have
found so much that is really uncommon and
strange, that I may suppose that you wish to
know the connexion of all this. All depends
on the spirit and sense of my excellent uncle.
The vigorous years of this noble persons
manhood fell in the time of Beccaria* and
Filangieri; f the maxims of a universal hu-
manitarian ism prevailed at that time on all
sides. But his striving spirit and severe char-
after transformed this general ideal into ideas
which occupied themselves with the practical.
He did not conceal from us, how according
to his own fashion he had transformed that
liberal motto ; The Best for the largest num-
ber, and destined For the Many, the Desir-
able. The most cannot find or know what is
the best, still less procure it. But many are
always around us: what they wish, we learn
to know; what they ought to wish, we refledl
on; and thus something of importance can
always be effedled and created. With this
view, she continued, everything that you
see here has been planted, constructed and ar-
ranged ; and simply for a quite close, easily-
attainable purpose; all this has come to pass
from love to the great neighboring mountain
The excellent man, endowed with both
strength and the means, said to himself: No
child up yonder shall want a cherry or an apple,
for which with good reason they are so greedy;
the housewife shall not lack cabbage or turnips
or any other vegetable for her saucepan, so that
to some degree the unwholesome consump-
tion of potatoes may be counterbalanced. To
this end and in this manner he tries to achieve
what his possessions give him an opportunity
of doing; and thus for many years carriers,
men and women, have been organized, who
* Cesare Beccaria of Bonesana, whose work Dei
Delitti e Delle Pene, first published anonymously in
1764, gave an impulse to the study of penal laws.D.
t Gaetana Filangieri, the renowned author of La
Scienza della Legislazione (8 vols. 1781-88), whose
acquaintance Goethe had made in Naples.D.
take the fruit for sale into the deepest clefts
of the mountain rocks.
I have enjoyed it myself like any child,
replied Wilhelm; there, where I never hoped
to meet with anything of the sort, among pines
and rocks, I was less surprised at finding pure
j simplicity of mind than new refreshing fruit!
The gifts of the spirit are at home every-
where, but the gifts of nature are only sparely
distributed over the earths surface.
Moreover, our worthy man has brought
many things from distant places nearer to
the mountain; in the buildings below here you
will find salt laid up, and stores of spices.
For tobacco and brandy he lets others pro-
vide ; these are not necessaries, he says, but
lusts, and consequently they have providers
enough already.
Arrived at the appointed place, a roomy
huntsmans house in the forest, the party
found themselves assembled, and a small table
ready laid out.
Let us sit down, said Hersilia. Here,
to be sure, stands our uncles chair, but as
usual he is sure not to come. In a certain
manner it gives me satisfaction, that our new
guest, as I hear, is not going to stay long
with us; for he might be wearied when he be-
came acquainted with our company. The
composition of it is what is everlastingly re-
peated in novels and plays: a wonderful uncle,
one gentle and one lively niece, a sensible
aunt, domestics of the well-known sort; and
if our cousin were now to return, he would
learn to recognize a fantastic traveller, who
perhaps would bring with him a still more
eccentric companion, and then the trite thea-
trical piece would be composed, and trans-
formed into reality.
The peculiarities of our uncle we must
needs revere, replied Julietta; they are not
a burden to any one, but rather a convenience
to everybody. He detests, as he always will,
a fixed dinner-hour, but he rarely interferes
with it, for indeed he maintains that one of
the finest inventions of modern times is dinner
a la carte."
Amidst much other conversation they also
discussed the worthy mans taste to affect in-
scriptions everywhere.
My sister, said Hersilia, knows how to
interpret them all, and she vies with the
keeper in making them out; but I find they
can all be reversed, and that then they are
just as true, and perhaps more so.
I do not deny, replied Wilhelm, that

there are mottoes among them which seem
to neutralize themselves. Thus, for instance,
I saw written up very strikingly, Ownership
and Common-property. Do not these two
ideas exclude one another ?
Hersilia interrupted him: Such inscrip-
tions, it seems, our uncle has borrowed from
the Orientals, who on all their walls do
honor to, rather than understand, the maxims
of the Koran.
Julietta, not to be put off, replied to the
preceding question : If you paraphrase the
few words, their sense will at once become
After some discussion, Julietta continued to
explain how it was meant: Everyone should
try to dignify, to keep, and to increase the
possession which has been granted to him by
fate or by nature; with all his faculties he
should grasp as far around him as lie can
reach, but should at the same time always
think how he shall let others have a share in
it; for people of means are only valued in so
far as others enjoy through them.
When they now began to seek for instances,
our friend found himself in his proper ele-
ment : they vied with each other, they
strained their wits, in the endeavor to prove
the truth of those laconic words.
Why, they maintained, do people
honor the princebut because he can put in
activity, can advance and bestow favors on
every one, and make them, as it were, share-
holders of his absolute power? Why does
everybody look up to the rich ? Because he
himself, the most needy, on all sides wants
participators in his abundance. Why do all
men envy the poet ? Because his nature
makes communication necessarynay, is com-
munication itself. The musician is happier
than the painter; he expends welcome gifts in
person, immediately, whilst the latter only
gives when the gift has been sundered from
Then they further asserted generally: Man
ought to retain firmly every sort of posses-
sion ; he ought to make himself a central
point, from which the common good can
issue; he must be an egoist, in order not to
become an egoist; must keep together, in
order to be able to expend. What does it
meanto give possession and goods to the
poor? It is more praiseworthy to behave as
a steward for them. This is the sense of the
words Ownership and Common-property:
the capital no one ought to attack; the inter-
est will none the less belong in due course to
every one.
In this manner the ladies conversed about
many things with their new friend, and, as
their mutual confidence increased more and
more, they also spoke about a cousin who was
shortly expe6ted. We believe that his
strange behavior has been arranged with our
uncle. For some years he has let us hear
nothing from him. He will send charming
presents, figuratively intimating his place of
residence, then all of a sudden lie writes from
somewhere quite close by, but will not come be-
fore we have given him some information about
our own condition. This behavior is not
natural; what lurks behind it we must dis-
cover before his return. To-night we will
give you a packet of letters, from which the
rest may be seen.
Hersilia added: Yesterday I made you
acquainted with a foolish wandering woman ;
to-day you shall hear about a crazy trav-
But confess, added Julietta, that this
communication is not without purpose.
Hersilia was just asking, somewhat impa-
tiently, what had become of the dessert, when
the announcement was made that the uncle
expected the company to enjoy dessert with
him in the large summer-house. On the way
back they observed a camp-kitchen staff very
busily engaged in packing up, with much
clatter, their brightly-burnished saucepans,
plates, and dishes. They found the old gen-
tleman in a spacious arbor, before a large,
round, freshly-spread table, upon which, as
they took their seats, the finest fruits, delicious
pastry, and all the best sweets, were abun-
dantly served. On the uncles asking what
had they met with to amuse them, Hersilia
replied quickly, Ourgood guest would prob-
ably have run astray over your laconic in-
scriptions if Julietta had not come to his as-
sistance with a running commentary.
You always bring in Julietta, replied
the uncle; she is a good girl, who can
learn and understand something too.
I should like to forget much of what I
know; and what I do understand is not worth
much either, replied Hersilia in joke.
Hereupon Wilhelm joined in, and said
thoughtfully, Pithy mottoes of every kind I
know how to honor, especially if they incite
me to refledt on and bring into accord what
contravenes them.
Precisely so, replied the uncle ; indeed,

rational man throughout his whole life has
never yet had any other occupation.
They had, as appeared in the course of the
conversation, made the objection to the uncle,
that his property did not bring him in what it
ought. He replied thereto, The deficiency
of income. I look on as an outlay, which gives
me pleasure, inasmuch as I thereby render life
more easy to others. I have not even the
trouble of making this disbursement myself,
and thus everything is made fair again.
In the meantime the table had gradually
filled all round, so that at last there was
scarcely a place left.
The two stewards had arrived, huntsmen,
horse-breakers, gardeners, foresters, and others
whose occupation one could not tell at once.
Each had something of the most recent occur-
rence to say and to report, which the old gen-
tleman heard good-naturedly, or perhaps even
elicited by sympathizing inquiries; but at last
he rose, and saluting the company, whom he
would not have move, went away with the two
bailiffs. All had indeed enjoyed the fruit
and the young people the pastryalthough
they may have looked a little unconventional.
One after another rose, saluted those that
stayed, and went away.
The ladies, who noticed that the guest ob-
served what passed with some wonder, ex-
pressed themselves as follows: You see here
again the effect of the peculiarities of our ex-
cellent uncle; he affirms, that no invention of
the age deserves more admiration, than that
you should be able to dine at inns at small
separate tables a la carte/ as soon as he
became aware of this, he also tried to intro-
duce it into his family for himself and others.
When he is in his best humor, he likes to
paint vividly the horrors of a family table,
where every member sits down occupied with
extraneous thoughts, listens unwillingly, speaks
absently, remains sullenly silent, and if ill-luck
introduces little children, calls forth, with a
sudden recourse to pedagogism, the most un-
reasonable bad humor.
One has to bear with so many ills, he
says, but from this I have found out how to
emancipate myself. He seldom appears at
our table, and occupies the chair that stands
empty for him only for a few moments. He
carries his camp-kitchen about with him, and
generally dines alone; others must take care
of themselves. But if once in a way he offers
breakfast, dessert, or other refreshment, then
all his scattered dependants have to assemble
together, and partake of what is offered, as
you have seen. That gives him pleasure; but
no one dares come who does not bring an ap-
petite with him. Every one who has satisfied
himself has to rise, and only thus he is cer-
tain of always being surrounded by people
who enjoy themselves. If you want to give
people a treat, I heard him say, you must
try to procure for them what they are seldom
or never in a condition to obtain.
On the return journey an unexpected mis-
hap caused some excitement among the party.
Hersilia said to Felix, who was riding by her
side, Look there, what flowers are those?
they cover the whole sunny side of the hill; I
have never seen them before. Felix at once
urged on his horse, galloped towards the place,
and in returning with a whole bunch of bloom-
ing flowers, which he waved in the air at a dis-
tance, all of a sudden disappeared with the
horse. He had fallen into a ditch. Imme-
diately two horsemen detached themselves
from the party and galloped towards the spot.
Wilhelm wanted to get out of the carriage,
but Julietta forbade it. He has already got
help, and our law in such cases is, that only
one who is giving help may stir from the
Hersilia stopped her horse. Yes, indeed,
she said, doctors one wants but seldom, but
surgeons every moment.
Felix was already cantering up again, with
a bandaged head, clutching the blooming
booty, and holding it aloft. With compla-
cency he reached the nosegay to his mistress.
Hersilia in return gave him a light, bright-
colored neckerchief.
The white bandage does not suit you,
she said; this will look much prettier.
And thus they reached home, reassured in-
deed, but in a sympathetic mood.
It had grown late: they separated in the
friendly hope of meeting again on the mor-
row, but the following correspondence kept
our friend awake and thoughtful for some
At last, dear aunt, you receive, after three
years, my first letter, according to our ar-
rangement, which indeed was strange enough.
I wanted to see the world, and abandon my-
self to it, and for this period I wished to
forget my home, from which I came and to
which I hoped to return again. I wanted to
retain the whole impression, and that single

details should not lead me, when at a distance,
into misconception. In the meantime the
necessary tokens of existence have been
interchanged between us from time to time.
I have received money, and little gifts for my
nearest friends have meanwhile been handed
over to you for distribution. From the sort
of things sent, you could see where and how
I was. In the wines my uncle has surely
tasted out my place of residence every time;
then the lace, the quodlibets, the steel-ware,
have marked my way for the ladies through
Brabant to Paris and on to London; thus, on
your writing, sewing, and tea-tables, your
morning robes and evening dresses, I shall j
find many a mark on which I can hang my i
tales of travel. You have accompanied me, |
without hearing from me, and perhaps are by
no means curious to know anything further. 1
To me, on the contrary, it is in the highest !
degree necessary to learn, through your good- j
ness, how the circle which I am on the point
of re-entering goes on. I should like to en- i
ter actually from foreign parts like a stranger
who, to be agreeable, first informs himself j
about what they wish or like in the house, j
and does not imagine to himself that they j
must receive him exaCtly according to his j
own liking, just for the sake of his fine hair
or eyes. Write to me, therefore, about the
good uncle, the dear nieces, about yourself, !
about our relations near and remote, and also
about old and new servants.
Enough; let your pra&ised pen, which
you have not for so long inked for your
nephew, hold sway on the paper for his bene-
fit. Your instructive letter shall be my
credentials, with which I shall present myself j
as soon as I have received it. Thus it de-
pends upon you to see me in your arms. One
changes far less than one thinks, and circum-
stances remain for the most part much the
same. Not what has changed, but what has
remained, what has gradually increased and
decreased, I wish to recognize all at once,
and to look again upon myself as in a familiar
mirror. Greet all our friends heartily, and
believe in the strange fashion of my absence
and return more warmth is contained than is
often found in uninterrupted sympathy and
cordial correspondence. A thousand greet-
ings to each and all.
Do not negleCt, dearest aunt, to say a
word about our men of business, how our
agents and tenants are getting on. What has
become of Valerina, the daughter of the ten-
ant whom uncle shortly before my departure
had ejectedrightly indeed, but still, as it
seems to me, rather severely? You see that
I still remember much; I still know pretty
well all. You must examine me about the
past, after you have communicated the present
to me.
At last, dear children, there is a letter
from the Three-years-mute. How these won-
derful people are wonderful indeed! He
thinks that all his articles and tokens are as
good as one single good word that one friend
can say or write to another. He really
imagines that the balance is in his favor, and
wants us on our part to do what on his own
he so harshly and unkindly denied us. What
ought we to do? I, for my part, would at
once meet his wishes with a long letter, if my
headache did not announce itself, and scarcely
allow me to finish the present letter. We all
wish to see him. Take the matter, my dear
ones, in hand. If I have recovered before
you have finished, then I shall contribute my
own quota. Choose the persons and circum-
stances as you like best; describe them.
Divide them between you. You will do it all
better than I. I suppose the messenger will
bring me back a line from you ?
We have already read, reflected, and tell
you through the messenger our opinion, each
for herself, though we have first satisfied our-
selves together, that we are not so good-
naturedly disposed as our dear aunt towards
her always spoiled nephew. He having for
three years kept his cards hidden from us,
and still keeping them hidden, we are to
throw up ours, and play an open game against
his concealed one. That is by no means
fair, but still it may pass; for even the most
subtle often deceives himself just because he
makes too sure. Only as to the style and
manner we are not agreed; as to what shall
be sent to him, and how. To write about
what you think of your own people, that is,
to us at least, a strange task. As a rule one
only thinks about them in this or that
case, when they cause one exceptional pleasure
or vexation. Otherwise every one leaves others
alone. You only could do it, dear aunt, for

you have penetration and impartiality at the
same time. Hersilia, who, as you know, is
easily excited, has hurriedly given me a funny
review of the whole family upon the spur of
the moment; I wish it stood on paper, so as
to win a smile from you amidst your suffer-
ing; but not that it should be sent to him.
My proposal, however, is to send him our cor-
respondence of these last three years; this he
may peruse himself, if he has the courage, or
may come to see what he does not care to
read. Your letters to me, dear aunt, are in
the best order, and are at your disposal at
Hersilia is not of the same opinion; she
excuses herself with the confusion of her
papers, etc., as she will tell you herself.
I must and will be very short, dear aunt,
for the messenger shows himself disagreeably
impatient. I consider it superfluous kindness
and quite out of place to communicate our
letters to Lenardo. What business has he to
know what good we have said of him, what
business has he to know what evil we have
said of him, in order to find out from the lat-
ter still more than from the former, that we
are well-disposed to him. Keep a tight hand
on him, I beg you. There is something so
cool and presumptuous in this demand, in this
behavior, such as these gentlemen generally
show when they come from foreign lands.
They always consider those who stay at home
as not complete. Excuse yourself with your
headache. He will come fast enough; and
if he does not come we will wrait a little
longer. Perhaps in that case it will occur to
him to introduce himself amongst us in some
queer secret fashion, and learn to know us
unrecognized, and I dont know what all
might not enter into the plans of such a clever
man. That would be pretty and wonderful
indeed It might produce all kinds of com-
plications, which could not possibly develop
themselves under the diplomatic entry into
the family which he now has in mind.
The messenger! the messenger! Instruct
your old people better, or send young ones.
This one is not to be bribed either by flattery
or wine. A thousand times farewell!
Tell me, what does our cousin mean in
his postscript about Valerina? This question
has doubly occurred to me. She is the only
person whom he mentions by name. We
others are to him nieces, aunts, agents; no
personalities, but only denominations. Val-
erina, the daughter of our lawyer A fair,
pretty child enough, who may have dazzled
the eyes of our Herr Cousin before his depar-
ture. She is married, well and happily; that
I need not tell you. But he knows as little
about it as he knows in other respedls about
us. By no means forget to tell him, also in
a postscript, that Valerina has become prettier
every day, and on this very account too has
made a very good match : that she is the wife
of a rich landowner. The beautiful blonde is
married : make that quite clear to him. But
now, dear aunt, this is not yet all. How he
can remember the fair beauty so well, and yet
confound her with the daughter of the disso-
lute tenant, a wild romp of a brunette, called
Nachodina, who is gone no one knows where
this is altogether incomprehensible to me, and
puzzles me wonderfully, for it seems that Sir
Cousin, who boasts of his good memory,
mixes up names and persons in an extraordi-
nary way. Perhaps he feels this defedl, and
wants to refresh again what has been forgotten
by ydur description.^, Keep a tight hand on
him, I beg you; but try to find out how Val-
erina and Nachodina are, and what Inas and
Trinas and all are still preserved in his
imagination, whilst the Ettas and Ilias have
disappeared from it. The messenger! the
confounded messenger!
What is the good of much dissembling
towards those with whom one has to spend
ones life Lenardo with all his peculiarities
deserves confidence. I am sending him both
your letters; from them he will learn to know
you, and I trust the rest of us will uncon-
sciously seize an opportunity as soon as possi-
ble of presenting ourselves before him in the
same way. Farewell! I am in great pain.
What is the good of dissembling towards
those with whom we spend our lives Lenardo
is a spoiled nephew. It is abominable, that you
should send him our letters. He will not
learn to know us from them, and I only wish
for an opportunity of presenting myself as soon


as possible in another way. You make others |
suffer a great deal, whilst you suffer and are
blind. A speedy recovery from your pain.
There is no remedy for your love.
*1 should also have enclosed your last little
note for Lenardo, if I had actually kept to the
purpose which my incorrigible partiality, my
illness, and considerations of convenience had
suggested. Your letters are not gone.
Man is a sociable, communicative crea-
ture; his enjoyment is great when he exer-
cises the faculties that have been given to
him, even if nothing further were the out-
come of it. How often is the complaint
made in society, that one does not allow the
other to have his say; and one can just as well
say that one did not allow another to write,
if writing were not usually a sort of business
that one must discharge in solitude and alone.
Of how much people write we have no idea at
all. I do not wish to speak about so much of
it as is printed, although it is quite enough.
But of the amount in letters, news, stories,
anecdotes, descriptions of the present condi-
tion of individual people, quietly circulating
in letters and longer compositionsof this one
may gain an idea by living for a time, as I do
now, in a family of culture. In the sphere in
which I find myself at present, one almost
spends as much time in imparting information
to relations and friends about what one is oc-
cupied with as one has for occupation itself.
This observation, which has forced itself on
my notice during the last few days, I make
all the more gladly, since my new friends
facility in writing gives me the opportunity
of learning to know their mutual relations
quickly and from all sides. They confide in
me, give me a packet of letters, a few travel-
ling journals, the confessions of a mind not
yet at one with itself, and thus in a short time
I am everywhere in the house. I know the
neighboring society; I know the persons
whose acquaintance I am going to make, and
know almost more about them than they do
themselves, since they are entangled in their
own circumstances, whilst I flit past them,
always at your hand, discussing everything
with you. It is my first condition, too, be-
fore I accept a confidence, that I shall be
allowed to impart everything to you. Here
accordingly are a few letters, which will in-
troduce you to the circle within which I am
at present moving, without breaking or evad-
ing my vows.
Very early in the morning our friend found
himself alone in the gallery, and was enjoying
himself over many a well-known form; to
those unknown, a catalogue, which he found
at hand, gave him the desired clue. Portrai-
ture, like biography, has quite a peculiar in-
terest; the distinguished man, whom one
cannot think of without a surrounding, steps
forward isolated, and places himself before us
as before a mirror; we accordingly turn on
him our special attention, we occupy ourselves
with him exclusively, as he is complacently
occupied with himself in the mirror. It is a
general, who now represents the whole army,
behind whom emperors as well as kings for
whom he fights, step back into the shade.
The clever courtier stands before us, even as
if he were paying court to us; we do not
think of the great world, for the sake of
which he in fact has made himself so fascin-
ating. Surprising, too, to our observer was
the likeness of many a one long gone, to
living people known to him, whom he had
seen in the fleshnay, even the likeness to
himself. And why should Menaechmi-twins
result only from one mother? Ought not the
great mother of the gods and men also be
able to bring forth the like form, at the same
time or at intervals, from her fruitful lap?
Finally, too, the sympathetic observer could
not deny that many an attractive and many a
repulsive form flitted across his vision.
In the midst of this contemplation he was
surprised by the master of the house, with
whom he conversed freely on these subjects,
and whose favor he seemed to gain still more.
For he was kindly taken into the inner room
before the most precious portraits of remark-
able men of the sixteenth century in complete
presence just as they loved and lived, without
any displaying of themselves in the mirror or
to the spectator, self-reliant and self-con-
tented, working by their own character, and
not through any sort of willing or pur-

The master of the house, satisfied that his
guest should know how to value completely a
past so richly brought before him, showed him
the autographs of many persons, about whom
they had been speaking before in the gallery;
and at last some relics, which there was no
doubt that the former possessors had used and
This is my kind of poetry, said the
master of the house, laughing; my imagina-
tion must take hold of something! I can
scarcely believe that anything has ever been,
that is not still here. About such sacred
relics of the past I try to procure the most
rigid proofs, otherwise they are not admitted.
Written traditions are most closely examined;
for I believe, indeed, that the monk has
written the chronicle, but what he bears wit-
ness to, that I seldom believe.
At last he put a clean sheet of paper before
Wilhelm with a request for a few lines but
without signature; after which our guest found
himself ushered through a side-door into the
hall, and by his side the custodian.
I am glad, said the latter, that you are j
valued by our master ; the very fact that you j
have come out at this door is a proof of it. j
But do you know what he takes you for? He ;
thinks that in you he sees a professional peda- |
gogue; he supposes that the boy belongs to a !
family of rank, and has been intrusted to |
your guidance, in order to -be initiated in
the world and all its manifold conditions
and principles, with right ideas in good
He does me too much honor, said our
friend; still I shall not have heard this in
At breakfast, at which he found his Felix
already busy amongst the ladies, they ex-
pressed to him the wish that, since he could
on no account be detained, he would go to
their noble Aunt Makaria, and perhaps thence
to the cousin, to clear up the strange delay.
He would thus become as it were a member
of their family; he would confer upon them
a distindl service, and without any great prep-
aration would enter into confidential rela-
tions with Lenardo.
To this he replied, however: Whither-
soever you send me, I willingly betake myself.
I set out for the purpose of seeing and think-
ing; with you I have experienced and learned
more than I dared to hope, and I am con-
vinced that on the next path to which I am
introduced I shall find out and learn more
than I can expedt.
And you, pretty good-for-nothing? what
are you going to learn? asked Hersilia.
To which the boy answered very boldly:
I am learning to write, in order to be able
to send you a letter; and to ride better than

anyone, so that I may always be with you
again immediately.
Hereupon Hersilia said thoughtfully: I
have never been able to get on perfectly well
with admirers of my own years; it seems as
if the following generation is going to in-
demnify me very quickly.
But now we feel with our friends how close
at hand is the painful hour of leave-taking,
and we should like to give a clear idea of the
peculiarities of his excellent host, of the singu-
larities of that extraordinary man. But, in
order not to judge him falsely, we must first
direCt our attention to the descent and early
development of this worthy person, already
far advanced in years. What we were able to
find out is as follows:
His grandfather lived as an aCtive member
of an embassy in England, just in the last
years of William Penn.* The great benevo-
lence, the pure aims, the unflagging activity
of such a distinguished man, the conflict into
which for this reason he fell with the world,
the dangers and afflictions to which this noble
man seemed to be subjected, aroused in the
susceptible soul of the young man a decisive
interest; he associated himself with the enter-
prise, and finally went himself to America.
The father of our squire was born in Phila-
delphia, and they both had the fame of having
contributed to the result that a general in-
crease of religious freedom prevailed in the
Here was deduced the maxim, that any
nation isolated in itself and in harmony as
regards morals and religion, ought carefully to
guard itself against all foreign influence and
all innovation; but that where on a new soil
we wish to gather together many members
from all sides, there should be granted the
most unfettered activity in all pursuits, and a
free scope to the universal moral and religious
The brisk, lively impetus towards America
in the beginning of the eighteenth century
was considerable, inasmuch as everyone on
this side who felt himself in any degree un-
comfortable hoped over there to emancipate
* William Penn, to whom, in 1681, Charles II.
granted estates in North America, which he settled as
a colony of Quakers, and from which arose the State
of Pennsylvania, died in England in 1718.Ed.
himself. This impetus was encouraged by
the desirable possessions which could be ob-
tained, before population had as yet spread
further westward. Whole so-called counties
were still for sale on the border of the in-
habited territory; and the father of our pro-
prietor had acquired considerable possessions
Yet here also was shown how often in sons
a contradiction to the paternal disposition
manifests itself. Our squire arriving as a
youth in Europe, felt himself another man.
This inestimable culture, that had been called
into being several thousands of years ago;
which had grown, expanded, been curbed,
oppressed, never entirely suppressed; breath-
ing afresh, reviving, and afterwards as before
displaying itself in infinite forms of activity
gave him quite different notions respecting
the goal which humanity is able to reach.
He preferred to take his share of the great,
immeasurable advantages; and to lose him-
self as a fellow-worker amidst the great mass
moving in orderly activity, rather than there
beyond the seas, belated by many centuries,
playing the part of an Orpheus or Lycurgus.
He used to say: Everywhere man has need
of patience, must everywhere be on his guard,
and I would rather settle matters with my
king, that he should grant me such rights,
rather accommodate myself with my neigh-
bors, that they may allow me certain restric-
tions, provided that I yield to them on some
other point, than be fighting with the Iro-
quois, in order to expel them, or deceiving
them by contracts, in order to drive them out
of their marshes, where one will be tortured
to death by mosquitoes.
He took possession of the family estates;
he knew how to deal with them in a liberal
spirit, to manage them economically, to annex
prudently large and apparently useless neigh-
boring traCts of land, and thus within the
civilized world,which, in a certain sense
only, may too often be called a wilderness,
to acquire and cultivate a moderate domain,
which with the limitations of circumstances is
still always sufficiently utopian.
Religious liberty is therefore indigenous
within this district; public worship is regarded
as a free confession that we have a common
ownership in life and in death; but very great
care is at the same time taken that no one
should separate himself.
In the several plantations are seen moder-
ately large edifices; each of these is the room

which the owner of the soil devotes to each
community; here the eldest gather, in order
to consult together; here the many assemble
to listen to instruction and pious exhortation.
But this room is also destined for merry-
making; here the wedding dances are cele-
brated, and the holiday concluded amidst
Nature herself can lead us towards this.
In ordinarily fine weather under the same
lime-tree we see the elders in consultation,
the community at its instruction, and the
youth whirling round in dance. Upon a
serious background of life, the holy thus ap-
pears beautiful; seriousness and holiness mod-
erate enjoyment, and only by moderation do
we preserve ourselves.
If the community is otherwise disposed,
and sufficiently well-to-do, it is at liberty to
devote different buildings to the different
But if all this has been calculated for the
public and common morality, still religion
itself remains as before, something inward,
nay, something individual. For it has only
to do with the conscience. This must be
aroused or tranquillized: aroused, when blunt,
inaClive, and in a state of torpor; but soothed
down when it threatens to embitter life by a
remorseful restlessness. For it is closely allied
to the pain which threatens to become sorrow,
when through our own fault we have drawn
down any ill upon ourselves or others.
But as we are not always disposed to con-
siderations such as are required for this, nor
even always care to be stirred, therefore the
Sunday has been set apart, in which all that
oppresses man must, in a religious, moral,
social or economical aspeCt, come under dis-
If you would stay a little longer with us,
said Julietta, our Sunday would not displease
you either. The day after to-morrow, early,
you would notice a great stillness; every one
remains alone and devotes himself to a pre-
scribed meditation. Man is a limited being:
in order that we may meditate on our narrow-
ness the Sunday is set apart. If there happen
to be bodily suffering, which during the whirl
of the week we set at naught; then at the be-
ginning of the new week we must at once
look out for the doCtor; if our difficulty is
economical or otherwise connected with busi- j
ness, then our bailiffs are obliged to hold their |
sittings; if it is something spiritual, moral,
that overclouds us, then we have recourse to a
friend, to a right-minded person, and ask for
his advice, his influence; enough, it is the
law, that no one dare to transfer to the next
week any concern that may disturb or affliCt
him. From oppressive duties, only the most
conscientious pradice is able to deliver us,
and what cannot be relieved at all we leave
finally to God, as the all-controlling, all re-
deeming Being. Even our uncle himself does
not omit this probation; there are even cases
in which he will speak confidently to us about
a difficulty, that he has not been able to over-
come at the moment; but generally he con-
sults with our noble aunt, to whom he from
time to time pays a visit. On Sunday evening
he is also in the habit of asking whether a
clean confession and settlement of all has
been made. From this you may see that we
take every care not to be admitted into your
order, the community of the Renunciants.
It is a tolerable life, cried Hersilia; if
I resign myself once every seven days, at least
I have it to my credit for three hundred and
Before his departure our friend received
from the younger bailiff a packet with writing
enclosedfrom which we extract the follow-
ing passage:
It seems to me, that in every nation there
prevails a different frame of mind, which only
can make it happy, and one observes this in
different individuals. He who desires to have
his ear filled with grand and harmoniously
regulated tones, and thereby elevate spirit and
soul,will he thank me if I place before his
eyes the most beautiful picture? A lover of
pictures will look; but he will decline to have
his imagination aroused by a poem or a novel.
Who then is so endowed, that he can enjoy in
many different ways?
But you, our passing friend, have ap-
peared to me like such an one, and if you
have known how to appreciate the prettiness
of a fashionable rich French aberration, then
I trust you will not scorn the simple, true
honesty of German ways; and pardon me if,
according to my custom and manner of
thinking, according to my birth and position,
I find no more charming image than is shown
us by the German middle class in its pure do-
mestic life.
Take this kindly: and remember me.

O, no! he ex-
claimed, as he burst
violently and hur-
riedly into the bed-
room assigned to
him, and put down
the light; no, it is
not possible! But
whither shall I turn
myself! For the
first time I think
differentlyfor the
first time I feel and
wish otherwise.
Oh, my father! if
you could be pres-
ent invisibly, and
look me through
and through, you would convince yourself that
I am still the same, ever the faithful, obedient
and loving son. To say noto oppose the
dearest and long-cherished wish of my father!
How shall I reveal it?how shall I express
it ? No, I cannot marry Julia. Whilst utter-
ing it, I am frightened. And how shall I
present myself to himreveal it to him, my
kind, dear father? He looks at me astounded
and silent; he shakes his head; the clear-
headed, wise and learned man cannot find a
single word. Woe is me Oh, I know well
to whom I should confide this pain, this em-
barrassment, whom I should choose as my in-
tercessor: of all people, you, Lucinda And
to you I should like to tell first, how I love
you, how I abandon myself to you, and im-
plore you piteously, Be my representative;
and if you can love me, if you will be mine,
then represent both of us.
To explain this short, heartfelt, passionate
soliloquy, a great many words will be re-
Professor N------, of N------, had an only
son of wonderful beauty, whom, until his
eighth year, he left under the care of his wife,
a very worthy lady. She guided the hours
and days of the child to life, to learning, and
all good conduct. She died, and at the
moment the father felt that he would be un-
able, personally, to further continue this
tutorship. Hitherto all had been harmony
between the parents; they worked with one
objeCt, together determined what was to
be done in the time immediately at hand, and
the mother knew how to carry out everything
wisely. Double and threefold was now the
anxiety of the widower, who saw daily before
his eyes that for sons of professors at the uni-
versities themselves, only by a mere chance
could a successful education be hoped for. In
this perplexity he turned to his friend the
high-bailiff* at R------, with whom he had
already discussed earlier plans of a closer
family connection. He was able to advise
and to help, so that the son was received in
one of the good educational institutes which
then flourished in Germany, and in which all
possible care was taken of the whole man
body, soul, and spirit.
The son had now been provided for, yet his
father felt himself far too much alone: de-
prived of his wife, and strange to the lovely
presence of the boy, whom, without any trou-
ble on his own part, he had seen brought up
so satisfactorily. At this point also the
friendship of the high-bailiff stood him in
good stead; the distance between their resi-
dences disappeared before the inclination to
bestir themselves and to seek distraction. Here
the widowed scholar found in a family circle,
also deprived of a mother, two beautiful, and
in different ways lovable, daughters, just grown
up. And so the two fathers more and more
strengthened themselves in the belief, in
the prospeCt, of seeing at some future day
their houses connected in the pleasantest man-
They lived in the prosperous dominions of
a sovereign prince; the able man was certain
of his position for the length of his life, and
so probably was a successor of his own nom-
In accordance with a prudent family and
official arrangement, Lucidor was now to pre-
pare himself for the important place of his
future father-in-law. In this he succeeded
step by step. Nothing was negleCted to im-
part to him every kind of knowledge, to
develop in him all those capabilities of which
the State at all times stood in need: the study
of the striCb judicial law; of the more discre-
tionary one, where wisdom and ability lend
their assistance to the functionary; calculation
for daily wantswithout excluding higher
views, but everything pertaining immediately
* Oberamlmann: a superior government official
charged with the administration of justice.Ed.

to life as it would surely and unfailingly be
required for use.
To this intent Lucidor had completed his
school years, and was now prepared by his
father and well-wisher for the university. He
displayed the finest talent for everything, and
owed to nature also the rare good fortune of
being willing, from love to his father, and re-
spect for his friend, to guide his faculties just
in that direction which was indicated to him,
first from obedience and then from conviction,
lie was sent to a foreign university, and
there, according both to his own epistolary
accounts and to the testimonials of his teach-
ers and tutors, he pursued the path which
ought to lead him to his goal. They could
only disapprove of his having in a few in-
stances been too impetuously courageous. At
this the father shook his head, and the high-
bailiff nodded. Who would not have wished
for himself such a son !
Meantime the daughters, Julia and Lucinda,
grew upthe former, who was the younger,
capricious, amiable, restless, and very amus-
ing; the latter, difficult to describe, because in
redtitude and purity she represented just that
which we consider as most desirable in all
women. They interchanged visits, and Julia
found the most inexhaustible entertainment in
the professors house.
His specialty was geography, which he
knew how to enliven by topographical descrip-
tions; and as soon as Julia had noticed but a
single volume, a whole series of similar ones
from the Homann publications were ready at
hand. Then the towns in a body were passed
in review, judged, preferred or rejeCled: all
seaports particularly gained her favor; other
towns, that would obtain her approval only in
a moderate degree, had carefully to make
themselves conspicuous by a multitude of
towers, cupolas, and minarets.
The father left her for weeks with his
trusted friend: she really improved in knowl-
edge and understanding, and knew tolerably
well the inhabited world in its general feat-

ures, points, and places. She was also very
observant of the costumes of foreign nations,
and when her adoptive father sometimes jest-
ingly asked her whether some one or other of
the many handsome young people who were
walking up and down before the window did
not really please her, she would say: Yes, cer-
tainly, if he looks quite out of the common
Now as our young students are never wanting |
in this respedt, she often had occasion to take
an interest in this or that one; she would re-
call to mind in reference to him some foreign
national costume, but yet would declare at
last, that a Greek at least must come by com-
pletely rigged out in his national dress, if she |
was to devote to him any special attention; on
this account she would long to beat the Leip-
zig fair, where such fellows were to be seen in
the streets.
After his dry and often disagreeable work
our teacher knew no happier moments than
those in which he playfully instructed her, and
at the same time secretly congratulated him-
self on his task of educating such a charming
and always easily amused daughter-in-law.
The two fathers, moreover, had agreed that
the girls should not suspeCt anything about
their intentions; and they were concealed
even from Lucidor.
Thus years passed by, as indeed years will
easily pass. Lucidor presented himself, ac-
complished, and approved in every test to the
satisfaction even of the higher powers, who
wished for nothing better than to be able to
fulfil, with a clear conscience, the hopes of
old, worthy, favored and meritorious ser-
And thus the affair had, by regular steps, at
last reached the point, that Lucidor, after be-
having exemplarily in subordinate capacities,
was about to obtain, according to his merit
and desire, a profitable post, situated exaCtly
midway between the university and the high-
bailiffs. The father, therefore, now spoke to
his son about Julia, to whom he had hitherto
only alluded, as his future bride and wife,
without further doubt or stipulation, extolling
his fortune in having won such a living jewel.
In spirit he already saw his daughter-in-law from
time to time again with him, busying herself with
maps, plans and views of cities. The son, on
the other hand, recalled to mind the lovable
and merry creature, who in childhoods time
had always delighted him with her freaks as
well as her friendliness. Lucidor was now to
ride over to the high-bailiffs to see more
nearly the developed beauty, to devote him-
self for a few weeks to intercourse and ac-
quaintanceship with the whole family. If the
young people, as was to be hoped, were soon
at one, then it should be announced; the
father would at once appear, in order that a
solemn betrothal might assure for ever the
hoped-for happiness.
Lucidor arrives, he is received in the most
friendly fashion, he is shown to a room, ar-
ranges his dress, and appears. He finds
there, besides the family circle already known
to us, a half-grown up son, spoiled without
doubt, but clever and good-natured, so that
if one had liked to take him for the family-
jester, he would not have accorded with the
whole at all badly. Then there belonged to
the household a very old, but hale and cheer-
ful man, quiet, refined, wise, near the end of
life, but now and then of use. Immediately
after Lucidor there came another stranger, no
longer young, of distinguished aspedl, estima-
ble and experienced in life, and through his
familiar knowledge of the world highly enter-
taining. They called him Antony.
Julia received her bridegroom-designate
with modesty, but complacently. Lucinda,
on the contrary, did the honors of the house,
as her sister those of her own person. Thus
the day passed with especial pleasure for all,
except only Lucidor; otherwise taciturn, he
was forced from time to time, in order not to
remain entirely dumb, to assume a questioning
attitude, in which circumstances no one ap-
pears to advantage.
He was thoroughly distradled, for from the
first moment he had felt towards Julia neither
disinclination nor aversion, but estrangement;
Lucinda, on the contrary, attracted him, so
that he trembled when she looked at him with
her full, pure, quiet eyes. In this state of
afflidlion, on the first evening he reached his
bedchamber and unburdened himself in the
soliloquy with which we began. But to clear
this up too, and to reconcile the passion of
such a tirade with what we already know
about him, a short statement will be neces-
Lucidor was a man of deep mind, and gen-
erally had in his thoughts something besides
what the present demanded, on which account
he was never quite happy in entertainment
and conversation; he felt this, and was taci-
turn, except when the conversation turned
upon special subje6ts which he had mastered,
and in which what he wanted was at all times

ready at his service. In addition to this, it
happened that in earlier days at school, and
later at the university, he had been dis-
appointed in certain friends, and had unhap-
pily expended in vain the outpourings of his
heart. All sociability had become a suspi-
cious matter to him; but any suspicion does
away with all sociability. To his father he
was accustomed to speak only in one tone, and
therefore, as soon as he was alone, his heart
would vent itself in monologues.
The next morning he had somewhat col-
lected himself, and yet he was on the point of
losing his presence of mind when Julia came
towards him, more friendly, more cheerful,
and more unconstrained than ever. She had
plenty to ask him about his journeys by land
and water, how as a student with his baggage
at his back he had tramped and climbed
through Switzerland, nay, had even crossed
the Alps. Thereupon she wanted to know a
great deal about the beautiful island in the
large southern lake; then, on the return, the
Rhine had to be traced from its remotest
source, at first through the most joyless
regions, and so downwards through many
varying scenes, until at last between Mainz
and Coblenz it is still quite worth while to dis-
miss the river honorably from its last limita-
tions into the wide worldinto the ocean.
Lucidor felt very much relieved by this, and
continued to tell his tales with pleasure, and
so well that Julia exclaimed with rapture:
One ought to see such things in company
with some one else, at which Lucidor was
again frightened, for in this remark bethought
that he espied an allusion to their companion-
ship through life.
However, he was soon relieved from his
duty as a teller of tales, for the foreigner
whom they called Antony speedily eclipsed all
his mountain rills, rocky banks, rivers con-
fined and flowing free. For now they went
diredl to Genoa; Leghorn lay at no great dis-
tance ; and a raid was made upon all that was
most interesting in the country; Naples must
be seen before one died; but Constantinople
was still leftthis too was not to be neglected.
The description that Antony gave of the wide
world carried along with it the imagination
of all, although he had less ardor to infuse
into it. Julia, quite beside herself, was still
by no means satisfied; she felt a longing
for Alexandria, Cairo, but particularly for
the Pyramids, about which she had gained
a tolerably complete knowledge through
the instruction of her presumptive father-in-
Lucidor, the following evening (he had
scarcely shut the door, and not yet put down
the light) exclaimed: Now, look to your-
self! it is a serious matter. You have learned
and thought out many serious matters; what
is the good of jurisprudence if now you do not
forthwith act like a jurist? Regard yourself
as a plenipotentiary; forget yourself, and do
what you would be bound to do for others.
Matters are coming to a crisis in the most ap-
palling manner. The foreigner is evidently
there for Lucindas sake; she shows him all
the attentions of the home circle in the pret-
tiest, most well-bred manner. The silly little
one would like to roam with any one through
the world, for nothing, nothing at all. Besides,
she is a rogue too; her delight in towns and
countries is a trick, by which she silences us.
But why do I look at this matter in such a
confused and limited manner. Is not the
high-bailiff himself the most prudent, sensible
and amiable of mediators? You will tell him
what you feel and think, and he will appre-
ciate, if not even sympathize. He can do
anything with your father. And is not one
his daughter as well as the other? And what,
then, has this Antony Roamer to do with
Lucinda, who is born for home, to be happy
and to create happiness? Yoke the restless
Quicksilver to the Wandering Jew: that would
be a charming match!
In the morning Lucidor went down with
the firm resolve of speaking to the father, and
for this purpose to approach him without de-
lay at a time when he knew that he would be
at leisure. How great was his grief, his em-
barrassment, when he heard that the high-
bailiff had set out on business, and tvas only
expe&ed back the day after to-morrow. Julia
seemed to-day to be having a regular travel-
ling time : she stuck to the globe-walker, and
with a few joking speeches, that related to
domestic matters, left Lucidor with Lucinda.
If our friend had before seen the noble girl
from a certain distance, and after a general
impression, and already most heartily appro-
priated her to himself, now, in the nearest
proximity, he discovered doubly and trebly
what had first attracted him in a general
The good old friend of the family now came
* Under this title (Anion Xeiser) C. Ph. Moritz pub-
lished an autobiography of his early years.D.

forward in place of the absent father; he too
had lived and loved, and after many buffets
of life he was at last cheered and well cared-
for at the side of the friend of his youth. He
animated the conversation, and expatiated es-
pecially about mistakes in the choice of a hus-
band, and related remarkable instances of
rectifications made sooner or later. Lucinda
appeared in her full glory: she admitted that
in life, and in marriages as well as other
things, chance of all kinds might bring about
the very best result; yet that it was more beau-
tiful, more elevating to the heart, when a man
could say to himself, that his fortune was due
to himselfto the quiet, unwavering convic-
tion of his heart, to noble resolve and prompt
decision. Tears stood in the eyes of Lucidor,
as he gave his approval, after which the
ladies soon withdrew. The old gentleman,
who presided, was quite ready to indulge fur-
ther in an exchange of stories, and thus the
conversation was extended to amusing exam-
ples, which, however, touched our hero so
closely, that only a youth so purely educated
as he, could refrain from an outbreak; this,
however, happened when he was alone.
I have controlled myself, he exclaimed;
with such embarrassment I will not annoy
my good father. I have restrained myself,
for in this worthy family friend I recognize the
representative of both fathers: to him I will
speak, to him disclose everything; he will be
sure to mediate in the matter, and has already
almost expressed what I wish. Could he in
the particular case blame what he in general
approves ? Early to-morrow I will seek him
out; I must gain breath for this struggle.
At breakfast the old man was not present;
it was stated that yesterday evening he had
talked too much, sat too long, and drunk a
few drops of wine beyond his custom. They
said a great deal in his praise, and indeed
spoke of his words and actions in a way that
drove Lucidor to despair, at not having at
once applied to him. This disagreeable sen-
sation was only made still keener by hearing
that after such attacks the good old man often
did not make his appearance again for a
Residence in a country-house has indeed
great advantages for social intercourse, particu-
larly when the entertainers, being people of
thought and feeling, have found an oppor-
tunity, after several years experience, of aiding
the natural conditions of their environment. It
was fortunately so in this case. The high-
bailiff, at first unmarried, then during a long
and happy union, with means of his own, in
a lucrative post, hadin accordance with his
own taste and insight, the fancies of his wife,
; nay, even in compliance with the wishes and
humors of his childrenattended to and
j beautified several separate larger and smaller
; plots, which being by degrees connected
tastefully with plantations and roads, afforded
to the passer-by a most lovely, diverse and
characteristic succession of scenes. The
young members of the family accordingly
1 made their guest undertake a pilgrimage of
this kind; even as people like to show their
surroundings to a stranger, in order that he
may regard as a novelty what has become
stale to themselves, and may retain the pleas-
ant impression of it forever.
The nearer as well as the more distant por-
: tion of the estate was strictly appropriated to
1 modest plantations, or peculiarly rural special-
ties. Fertile hills alternated with well-
watered meadow-land, so that the whole
could be seen from time to time without be-
ing level; and although land and soil were by
preference devoted to utility, still the grace-
ful and alluring had not been excluded.
To the mansion and offices were annexed
pleasure-gardens, orchards, and grass lawns,
out of which one lost ones self unwittingly in
a little copse, through which wound up and
down, in and out, a broad carriage-road. In
the middle of this, on the top of the most
prominent eminence, a pavilion had been con-
structed, with a suite of apartments. On en-
tering at the principal door, one saw in a
large mirror the most lovely prospect that the
neighborhood could offer, and quickly turned
round to recover ones self in the reality from
the unexpected reflection, for the approach
had been arranged artfully enough, and all
that was designed to effeCt a surprise had been
carefully hidden. No one entered without
again and again turning with pleasure from
the mirror to nature, and from nature to the
When once upon the road, on one of the
finest, most genial, and longest days, they
kept upon a good grass-road round and
through the whole. Here was pointed out the
evening resting-place of the good mother,
where a splendid beech-tree had reserved
round about itself an open space. Julia soon
afterwards pointed out, half teasingly, the
place of Lucindas morning devotion, in the
vicinity of a tiny lake, among poplars and

alders, near meadows sloping downwards, and
corn-fields extending upwards. It was pretty
beyond all description. One fancied that one
had seen it often before, but nowhere so re-
markable and so welcome in its simplicity.
On the other hand, the young brother, half
against Julias wish, showed the diminutive
arbors and childish garden erections which,
close by a cosily-situated mill, were scarcely
noticeable. They dated from the time when
Julia, in about her tenth year, had taken it
into her head to become a millers wife, and
after the departure of the two old people, was
going to set up for herself, and look out for an
honest miller youth.
That was at a time, exclaimed Julia,
when I still knew nothing about the towns
that lie on rivers, or indeed on the sea, noth-
ing about Genoa, and so forth. Your good
father, Lucidor, has transformed me, and
since that time I have not been so ready to
come here.
She sat down playfully on a little bench that
scarcely sufficed to bear her weight, beneath
an elder-tree that bent too deeply down.
Oh, how cramped! she cried, jumped to
her feet; and ran in front with her merry
The couple that remained behind con-
versed together sensibly, and in such cases
reason probably comes near to feeling. To
roam successively through simple natural ob-
jects, and quietly to observe how the sensible,
prudent man is able to turn them to account;
how the comprehension of what is at hand, asso-
ciating itself with the sense of his requirements,
will do wonders, in first of all making the world
inhabitable, then in peopling it, and at last in
overpeopling itall this could here be dis-
cussed in detail. Lucinda gave an account of
everything, and howsoever modest she was,
could not conceal that this convenient and
pleasant connection of distant portions of the
estate was her own work, under the sugges-
tions, direction, and assistance of a revered

But yet since even the longest day will at
last verge towards evening, it was now need-
ful to think of returning, and as they were
thinking about some pleasant circuitous road,
the merry young brother expressed a wish that
they should enter upon the shorter road,
although not the pleasanter, but rather the
more difficult one. For, he exclaimed,
you have been boasting with your sites and
contrivances how you have beautified and im-
proved the country for artistic eyes and sensi-
tive hearts, but now let me too gain credit.
Now they had to pass across ploughed lands
and rugged paths, nay, they had even to walk
over stones roughly thrown across small bogs,
and at some distance they soon beheld all
kinds of machinery in confused piles. Seen
nearer, it was a large pleasure or playground,
eredled not without judgment, in a certain
popular style. Thus there were standing
here, arranged at the proper distances, the
great swing-wheel, on which those mounting
and descending always remain as if sitting
quietly in a horizontal position, and other
swings, slack-ropes, balance-boards, bowling-
greens and skittle-alleys, and all that can be
imagined to occupy and amuse a number of
people in different ways and to an equal
extent, in an extensive pleasure-ground.
This, he exclaimed, is my contrivance,
my laying out; and although father gave the
money for it, and a clever fellow the head to
make it, still, without me, whom you so often
call silly, neither judgment nor money would
have combined together.
In this merry mood they all four reached
home at sunset. Antony put in an appear-
ance; the younger lady, however, who during
all this day had not had enough exercise, had
the horses put-to, and drove across the coun-
try to see a female friend, being desperate at
not having seen her for two days. The four
left behind felt embarrassed before they were
aware of it, and it was then declared that the
absence of the father began to alarm his fam-
ily. The conversation began to flag, when
all at once the merry lad jumped up, and
soon returned with a book, offering to read
aloud. Lucinda could not refrain from asking
how he had hit upon an idea which he had
not had the whole year, to which he merrily
replied, Everything occurs to me at the right
timea thing you cannot boast of. He read a
series of genuine fairy tales, which carry
people out of themselves, flatter their wishes,
and make them forget every condition by
which we nevertheless remain limited even in
our happiest moments.
What shall Ido now? exclaimed Luci-
dor, when at last he found himself alone;
time presses; I have no confidence in
Antony; he is an utter strangerI do not
know who he is, how he comes to be in the
house, or what he wants: he seems to interest
himself in Lucinda, and what in that case
could I hope for from him? Nothing re-
mains for me but to approach Lucinda my-
self; she must know itshe first. This indeed
was my first feeling; why do we allow our-
selves to be misled into paths of prudence ?
The first must now be last, and I trust to at-
tain my end.
On Saturday morning Lucidor having
dressed early, was pacing to and fro in his
room, and thinking over what he must say to
Lucinda, when he heard a sort of good-hum-
ored wrangling outside his door, which at the
same instant was opened. Thereupon the
merry youth pushed in before him a boy with
coffee and biscuits for the guest; he himself
carried some cold meat and wine. You
shall go first, he said, for the guest must be
served first; I am accustomed to wait upon
myself. My friend, to-day I come somewhat
early and noisily; let us enjoy our breakfast in
peace, and then we will see what we shall set
about, for we have little to hope from the com-
pany. The younger one has not yet returned
from her friend; these two are obliged to
pour out their hearts mutually at least once
every fortnight, in case they explode. On
Saturdays Lucinda is altogether useless, for she
then delivers pundtually her housekeeping ac-
counts to father. I too ought to dabble in
those things, but, Heaven preserve me! if I
know what a thing costs, I cannot relish a
mouthful. They expedt guests to-morrow; the
old gentleman has not yet recovered his
equilibrium. Antony is shooting; we will do
the same.
Guns, game-bags, and dogs were ready,
when they descended into the courtyard, and
so they set out across the fields, where event-
ually a leveret and a poor indifferent bird
were shot. In the meantime they talked
about domestic affairs and those of the present
party. Antony was mentioned, and Lucidor
did not fail to inquire about him. The
merry youth declared, with some complacency,
that however mysteriously that wonderful man
behaved, he had already seen through and
through him.

He is, he continued, no doubt the
son of a rich man of business, who failed just
at the moment when he, in the flower of his
youth, was thinking of taking a share vigor-
ously and cheerfully in great business transac-
tions, but at the same time of sharing in the J
great enjoyments which they abundantly offer. |
Hurled down from the pinnacle of his expec- j
tations, he pulled himself together, and ac- \
complished in the service of others what he I
could no longer do for himself and his rela- j
tions. So he wandered through the world,
learned to know it thoroughly in all its multi-
farious intercourse, yet in so doing did not for-
get his own interests. Untiring activity and
approved honesty brought and retained for
him an unlimited confidence from many. So
he everywhere gained friends and acquaint-
ancenay, it is easy to see that his resources are
distributed in the world as widely as his ac-
quaintance extends, and that therefore his
presence also is necessary from time to time in
all four parts of the world.
The merry youth had told this quite cir-
cumstantially and simply, inserting as many
comical observations as if he had the inten-
tion of spinning out his little story to the end
of the world.
How long has he not already been con-
nected with my father! They think that
I see nothing, because I trouble myself about
nothing; but for this very reason I see better,
because it does not concern me He has de-
posited a good deal of money with my father,
who has again invested it safely and profit-
ably. Only yesterday he handed the old gen-
tleman a jewel casket; anything simpler, more
beautiful, or precious I have never seen
although only at a glance, for the matter was
a secret transaction. It is probably to be de-
voted to the pleasure and joy, and to the
future safe keeping of the bride. Antony has
placed his confidence in Lucinda. But when
I see them thus together, I can scarcely regard
them as a well-assorted couple. The brisk one
would do better for him ; I think too that she
likes him better than the elder one; she really
looks sometimes as cheerfully and sympatheti-
cally towards the old grumbler, as if she
would like to mount into the carriage with
him, and be up and off. Lucidor collected
himself; he did not know what could be said
in answerall that he had heard had his
private approval.
The youth continued: Generally speak-
ing, the girl has a perverse love for old peo-
ple ; I believe she would as soon have married
your father as his son.
Lucidor followed his companion, as he led
him over stock and stone; both forgot the
sport, which any way could not have been
very abundant. They put up at a farm-
house, where, being well entertained, one of
the friends amused himself with eating, drink-
ing, and chatting, but the other was absorbed
in thoughts and meditations concerning the
manner in which he might be able to avail
himself to his own advantage of the discovery
he had made. Lucidor after all these tales and
confidences had acquired so much confidence in
Antony, that, on entering the courtyard, he at
once asked for him, and hurried into the gar-
den, where he was told that he would find
him. He traversed all the alleys of the park

Wilhelm Master' s Travels.
in the cheerful evening sun in vain. Not a
soul was to be seen. At last he entered a
door leading to the great saloon, and wonder-
fully enough, the setting sun, refle6ted from
the mirror, dazzled him to such a degree, that
he could not recognize the two persons who
were sitting on the ottoman, though he could
distinguish that a male person sitting by the
side of a lady was passionately impressing a
kiss on her hand. How great then was his
horror, when on the recovery of his power of
vision he beheld Lucinda and Antony before
him. He would have liked to sink into the
ground, but remained as if fixed to the spot,
until Lucinda in an unembarrassed and most
friendly way bade him welcome, made room
for him, and invited him to come and sit on
her right-hand side. He took the seat uncon-

sciously, and when, addressing him, she asked
how he had spent the day, and excused her-
self on the score of domestic affairs, he could
hardly endure her voice. Antony arose, and
took leave; and Lucinda, also rising, invited
him, who remained, to go out for a walk.
Walking along by her side he remained silent
and embarrassed; she too seemed to be dis-
turbed ; and if he had only been in some
degree himself, her deep breathing must have
betrayed that she had to conceal some heart-
felt sighs. At last she took leave of him, as
they approached near to the house; but he
turned, first slowly and then hurriedly, to-
wards the open fields. The park had become
too narrow for him; he hurried through the
open land listening only to the voice of his
heart, without any sense of the beauties of the
most perfeCt evening. When he saw himself
alone, and had vented his feelings in a sooth-
ing flood of tears, he exclaimed:
Several times already in my life, but never
so cruelly, have I experienced the grief which
is now making me wretched, when the most
longed- for happiness comes up to us hand-in-
hand, arm-in-arm, and immediately takes leave
of us forever. I sat by her, walked next her,
her dress touched me as it moved, and even
then I had lost her! Tell it not to yourself,
do not fret yourself about it; be silent, and
take your resolution.
He had imposed silence on himself; he
held his peace and reflected, strolling through
fields, meadows and heath, not always on the
smoothest paths. Only when he entered his
room, at a late hour, did he cease to restrain him-
self, and exclaimed: Early to-morrow I set
off; a day like this I will not live again,
and so he threw himself on the bed in his
Happy, healthy youth He was already
asleep; the fatiguing exercise during the day
had earned for him the sweetest nights rest.
From his comforting morning dreams, how-
ever, the earliest beam awoke him; it hap-
pened to be the longest day, which threatened
him to be too long. If he had certainly not
felt the charm of the soothing evening star, he
felt the stimulating beauty of the morning one
only to despair. He beheld the world as
beautiful as ever;it was still so to his eye-
sight, but his inner man denied it. In all this
he had no more part or lot: he had lost
The portmanteau, which he intended to
leave behind him, was quickly packed; he did
not write any letter with it; his absence from
dinner, perhaps also during the evening, was
to be excused by only a few words through
the groom, whom he must wake up at once.
But he found him already below in front of
the stable, pacing to and fro with long strides.
You surely do not want to take a ride?
cried the otherwise good-natured man, with a
touch of vexation. I suppose I may venture
to tell you: the young gentleman gets every
day more unendurable. He was knocking
about the country all yesterday, so that one
might have thought that he would thank God
to rest on a Sunday morning. But, if he
does not come here before daybreak, making
a disturbance in the stables! As I am jump-
ing up, he saddles and bridles your horse, and
is not to be kept back by any argument; he
vaults up and cries: Only think of the good
work I am doing This creature alway goes
only at a lawyers trot; I will see whether I
can spur him into a swift gallop for life!
That is about what he said; and added other
strange speeches.
Lucidor was doubly, trebly surprised: he
loved his horse, as answering to his own
character and mode of life; it vexed him to
find the good and sagacious creature in the
hands of a madcap. His plan was disturbed
his intention of seeking refuge in the present
crisis with a university friend, with whom he
had lived in frank and affectionate associa-
tion. The old confidence had been re-
awakened ; the miles lying between them had
not been taken into account, and he already
imagined himself finding advice and relief
from his benevolent and sensible friend.
This prospeCt was now cut off: and yet this
was not the case, if he should venture to reach
his goal on fresh walking feet, which remained
at his disposal.
The first thing then was to try to find the
road out of the park into the open country,
that should take him to his friend. He was
not quite sure of his direction, when, on the
left hand, the hermitage of which they had
previously made a mystery caught his eye, as
it reared its head above the copse, raised
upon a strange sort of wood-work, and there
to his utmost surprise he beheld upon a gal-
lery beneath the Chinese roof the old gentle-
man,who for the last few days had been

thought to be ill,looking around in a cheer-
ful manner. Lucidor declined his very
friendly greeting, and pressing invitation to
ascend, with excuses and hurried gestures.
Only consideration for the good old man,
who as he hurried down the steep staircase
with infirm tread threatened to fall to the
bottom, induced him to walk towards him,
and to allow himself to be led up. With won-
der he entered the charming little saloon ; it
had only three windows, looking over the
country, a most beautiful prospedt; the rest
of the walls was adorned, or rather covered,
with hundreds and hundreds of portraits, en-
graved in copper, and in some cases drawn,
pasted on to the wall in a certain order, and
separated by colored bands and spaces.
I favor you, my friend, in a way that is
not for everyone; this is the sandtuary in
which I contentedly spend my last days.
Here I recover from all the mistakes which
society makes me commit, and here I restore
my dietetic errors into equilibrium.
Lucidor gave a glance at the whole, and
being well read in history, he saw at once that
an historical taste lay at the bottom.
Here above in the frieze, said the old
man, you will find the names of excellent
men of the remote past; then, of the later
ones still only the names, for how they looked
it would be difficult to find out. But here in
the chief space my own life is actually con-
cerned, for here are men whom I heard men-
tioned as a boy. For about fifty years the
names of distinguished men will remain in
the memory of the people, but beyond that
lapse of time they either disappear or become
legendary. Although of German parents, I
was born in Holland, and to me William of
Orange, as Stadtholder and King of England,
is the prototype of all ordinary men and
heroes. But now you see Louis XIV. close to
him, than whom--------
How willingly Lucidor would have liked to
interrupt the good old man, if it had been
seemly to do soas indeed it probably be-
seems us, the storyteller, to do; for he was
threatened with modern and the most recent
history, as was easily to be gathered from the
portraits of Fredrick the Great and of his
generals, towards whom he was pointing.
If the kind youth honored the lively sym-
pathy of the old man for the time imme-
diately preceding his own as well as for the
present, and if certain individual traits could
not escape him as being interesting, still he
had already heard modern and recent history
in universities, and what one has once heard,
one thinks one will always know. His mind
was far away; he did not hear, he scarcely
could see, and was just on the point of
blundering towards the door and down the
mortally long staircase, in the most awkward
manner, when a violent clapping of hands
was heard from below.
Whilst Lucidor drew back, the old man put
his head out of the window, and from below
there resounded a well-known voice: Come
down; for Heavens sake, come out of your
historical picture gallery, old gentleman!
Finish your fasting, and help me to appease
our young friend, when he comes to know the
matter. I have been treating Lucidors horse
somewhat recklessly; it has cast a shoe, and
I have had to leave it behind. What will he
say? Oh, it is too absurd, when people are
absurd !
Come up, said the old man, and turning
himself towards Lucidor: Now, what do
you say?
Lucidor was silent, and the wild youth
entered. The questions and replies occasioned
a long scene; enough, they resolved to send
the groom at once to take care of the horse.
Leaving the old man behind, the two young
people hurried back to the house, whither
Lucidor allowed himself to be taken, not
quite unwillingly; because, come of it what
might, within those walls at least was en-
closed the only wish of his heart. In such a
desperate case we hopelessly lose the help of
our free-will, and feel ourselves relieved for a
moment, if from anywhere determination or
coercion lay hold of us. Still, when he
entered his room, he found himself in a very
strange frame of mind, very like a man who
is compelled against his wish to return to the
inn that he has just left, because he has broken
an axletree.
The merry youth presently pounced on the
portmanteau, to unpack everything in order;
particularly he placed together whatever there
was at hand of holiday attire, although it
might be meant for travelling. He compelled
Lucidor to put on shoes and stockings, ar-
ranged his closely curled brown locks of hair,
and rigged him out at his best. Then step-
ping a few paces back, he contemplated our
friend, and his handiwork, from head to feet,
and cried: Now at least, my little friend,
you look like a man who has some claims on
pretty maidens, and sufficiently in earnest to

be looking out for a bride. Only just a mo-
ment, and you shall see how I manage to
come to the front, when the hour strikes! I
have learned that from officers, after whom
the girls are always looking, and moreover I
have enlisted myself in a kind of military
corps, and now they look at me too again and
again, for none of them knows what to make
of me! Now, out of all this looking here
and there, this admiration and attention,
there often ensues something very pretty in-
deed, which, if it is not lasting, is still worth
our while to devote a moment to. But now,
my friend, come and show me the same ser-
vice! When you see me slip bit by bit into
my covering, you will not deny wit and a
knack of invention to the careless boy!
So he dragged his friend along with him,
through the long rambling corridors of the
old chateau. I have made my lair, he ex-
claimed, quite in the background. With-
out wishing to conceal myself, I like to be
alone; for one cannot make it quite pleasing
to the others.
They passed by the justice-room, just as a
servant came out carrying an antique writing-
desk, black, big, and completely filled; paper
too was not forgotten.
I know well enough what is going to be
scribbled again within there, exclaimed the
youth. Go away, and leave me the key.
Just give a peep into it, Lucidor. It will
amuse you until I am dressed. To a man of
law such a place is not as unattractive as to a
stable-fellow. And so he pushed Lucidor
into the magisterial hall.
The young man at once felt himself in a
familiar and congenial element; the recol-
lection of the days when, on business bent,
he was sitting at such a table, listening and
writing, repeated itself. Nor did he remain
unaware of the faCt that here a fine old do-
mestic chapel had, at the change of religious
opinions, been commuted to the service of
Themis. On the shelves he found titles and
deeds already known to him; he had worked
at these very matters himself, in the capital.
On his opening a bundle, a rescript fell into
his hand which he himself had engrossed, and
another which he had drafted Handwriting
and paper, the seal of the Chancellery, and
the signature of the president, all recalled to
his mind that season of the legitimate striving
of youthful hope. And then when he looked
round, and caught sight of the official chair
of the high-bailiff, designed and destined for
I himself, so fine a position, and such a worthy
sphere of activity, which he ran the risk of
rejecting and renouncing: all this assailed
him with a double and three-fold strength,
whilst the form of Lucinda seemed at the
same time to retreat away from him.
He wanted to go out into the open air, but
found himself imprisoned. His wonderful
friend had either heedlessly or wantonly
locked the door behind him: still our friend
did not remain long in this most awkward
confinement, for the other came back, excused
himself, and really awoke good humor by his
strange presence. A certain loudness in the
colors and cut of his dress was tempered by
natural taste, just as we do not deny a sort of
approval even to tattooed Indians.
To-day, he said, shall make compen-
sation for the tediousness of past days; good
friends, merry friends have arrived, pretty
girls, lively enamored creatures; and then too
my father, and, wonder upon wonder, your
father too! It will be a feast. They are all
already assembled in the saloon for breakfast.
Lucidor felt at once in a mood as if he
were peering into a thick fog; all who were
mentioned to him, whether known or un-
known, seemed to him as so many ghostly
forms; still his character, in conjunction with
a pure heart, kept him erect; in a few seconds
he felt himself equal to anything. He now
followed his hurrying friend with a firm step,
firmly resolved to stay it out, happen what
might, and to explain himself, be it as it
And yet he felt surprised at the threshold
of the saloon. In a large semicircle around
the windows he at once discerned his father,
together with the high-bailiff, both in full
dress. He looked at the sisters, at Antony,
and other known and unknown people, with
a glance that threatened almost to become
dim. He approached his father with failing
steps, who received him in a most friendly
manner yet with a certain formality, which
scarcely favored any confidential approach.
Standing before so many people, he looked
out for a convenient place for the moment;
he could have placed himself near Lucinda,
but Julia, in contrast with the constrained
state of things, made a turn, so that he was
compelled to step towards her. Antony re-
mained near Lucinda.
At this critical moment Lucidor felt him-
self again as one who has been charged with
a trust, and, steeled with all his juristic


science, he recalled to mind in his own favor
that beautiful maxim: that we ought to treat
the affairs of strangers committed to our trust
as our own; and why should we not treat our
own in just the same spirit. As he was well
exercised in business statements, he quickly
ran through all he had to say. Meantime the
company, placed in a formal semicircle,
seemed to be too much for him. The sub-
stance of his statement he knew well enough,
but he could not find the beginning. Then
on a table he observed the great inkstand,
with some legal officials standing by; the
high-bailiff made a movement, as if to begin
his address; Lucidor wanted to precede him,
and at the same moment Julia pressed his
hand. This took away all his presence of
mind; he was convinced that it was all de-
cided, that all was lost for him.
Now it was no longer the time when the
present collective lifelong associations or these
family ties, conventionalities of society and
position, should be respected; he looked be-
fore him, withdrew his hand from Julia, and
was so quickly outside the door that the com-
pany lost him before they were aware of it,
and he himself outside scarcely knew where
he was.
Fearing the light of the sun, which shone
on his head in fullest splendor, avoiding the
glances of people that he met, groping along
timidly, he went onwards until he reached the
large summer-house. At this point his knees
were about to fail him; he rushed in, and dis-
consolately threw himself on the ottoman be-
neath the looking-glass: into such confusion
had he been thrown in the midst of the pre-
cise business-like company, which seemed to
be surging backwards and forwards around
and within him. His past existence struggled
with the present: it was a terrible moment.
And thus he lay for a time, with his face
buried in the cushion, upon which Lucindas
arm had yesterday been resting. Completely
absorbed in his grief, feeling himself touched,
without having perceived any one approach,
he quickly raised himself; then he saw Lu-
cinda, who was standing near him.
Fancying that she had been sent to fetch
him, and charged to induce him with suitable
sisterly words to accompany her back to the
assembly, to his repugnant destiny, he ex-
claimed: They ought not to have sent you,
Lucinda, for it is you who drove me away
from there; I shall not return! Give me, if
you are capable of any pity, the opportunity
and means for flight. For in order that you
may bear witness how impossible it is to bring
me back, then receive the key to my behavior,
which to you and all must seem madness.
Listen to the oath which I had sworn to my-
self, and which, as irretrievable, I now repeat
aloud. With you only I wished to live, to use
and enjoy my youth, and old age as well, in
its true and honest completion. And let this
be as firm and sure as anything that has ever
been sworn before the altar, which I now
swear, in leaving you, the most pitiable of all
mankind. He made a movement to slip
away from her, as she stood so close in front
of him, but she caught him gently in her
What are you going to do? he exclaimed.
Lucidor, she said, not pity you, as you
imagine, perhaps; you are mine, I am yours.
I hold you in my arms; do not be afraid of
throwing yours round me. Your father is
satisfied with everything; Antony is to marry
my sister.
He drew back from her, astounded.
Can it be true?
Lucinda laughed, and nodded; he freed
himself from her arms.
Let me once more behold at a distance
her who is to belong so nearly, so closely to
me. He seized her hands.
Face to face, Lucinda, are you mine?
She replied, Yes, indeed, with the
sweetest tears in the truest of eyes. He em-
braced her, and threw his head behind hers;
he clung there like a shipwrecked man to a
rock on the shore; the floor still trembled be-
neath him. But now his enraptured glance,
opening again, fell upon the looking-glass.
Then he beheld her in his arms, himself folded
in hers; he looked towards it again and again.
Such feelings accompany a man all through
his life; at the same time, too, he saw on
the mirrors face the landscape, that but
yesterday had seemed to him so gray and for-
bidding, now more splendid and glorious than
ever: and himself in such a position on such
a background!a sufficient reward for all
We are not alone, said Lucinda, and
scarcely had he recovered from his rapture,
when there appeared girls and boys, decked
out and garlanded, carrying wreaths, filling
up the entrance.
That ought all to have been different,
exclaimed Lucinda. How nicely it was
arranged, and now it is all clumsily mixed

up. A stirring march sounded from afar,
and they saw the company merrily coming in
procession up the wide road. He hesitated
to go to meet them, and only on her arm
seemed sure of his steps. She remained at
his side, awaiting from moment to moment
the solemn scene of re-meeting, and of a
pardon already granted.
But it had been fated differently by the
mischievous gods; the merry, ringing tones
of a post-horn from the opposite side seemed
to throw the whole ceremony into confusion.
Who can be coming? exclaimed Lucinda.
Lucidor shuddered at a strange presence,
and the carriage too seemed quite strange.
A new double-seated travelling-chaise of the
latest make. She ran into the saloon. A re-
markably well-dressed boy jumped down from
behind, opened the door, but no one got out.
The carriage was empty; the boy got in, with
a few dexterous pulls he threw back the cover-
ing, and in an instant the pretty contrivance
was prepared for a most pleasant drive before
the eyes of all the company, who, in the
meantime, had come up.' Antony, hurrying
in advance of the rest, handed Julia to the
Try whether this sort of vehicle will suit
you, he said, to drive in with me along
the best roads through the world. I shall
take you along no other ones; and if ever it
should come to a pinch we will know how to
help ourselves. Pack-horses ought to be able
to carry us across the mountain and the
carriage too.
You are a darling! exclaimed Julia.
The boy stepped forward, and, with the
dexterity of a conjuror, he showed all the
conveniences, small advantages and contri-
vances of the whole light structure.
On the earth I am unable to thank you,
exclaimed Julia; only from this little mov-
able heaven, from this cloud to which you
raise me, I desire to thank you most cor-
She had already jumped into it, throwing a
kind glance and a hand-kiss towards him.
For the present you must not come in it
with me; but there is another whom I think
of taking with me on this trial drive. He
has a trial still to undergo, too.
She called to Lucidor, who, just then en-
gaged in a diffident conversation with his
father and father-in-law, gladly allowed him-
self to be pressed into the light vehicle, since
he felt an unconquerable need of only a mo-
ments distraction in some way or other. He
sat down by her; she called to the postilion
how he should go. In the twinkling of an
eye they disappeared, enveloped in dust, from
the sight of the astonished spectators left be-
hind. Julia settled herself closely and com-
fortably in the corner.
Now you, too, lean back here, Herr
Brother-in-law, that we may conveniently look
at each other.
Lucidor. You see my confusion, my
embarrassment. I am still as in a dream;
help me out of it.
Julia. Look at the nice-looking village
people, how civilly they greet us. During
your stay here you have actually never been
to the upper village: all well-to-do people,
who are all partial to me. There is no one so
rich that one cannot oblige him in some way
or other by some important service. This
road, along which we are driving so comfort-
ably, my father laid out, and so set this good
state of things on foot.
Lucidor. I willingly believe it, and
grant it; but what have these external things
to do with the confusion of my mind?
Julia. Only patience, I want to show
you the kingdoms of the world and the glory
thereof, now we are up above! How clearly
the level plain lies against the mountains!
All these villages owe a great deal to my
father, and to mother and daughters too, I
dare say. The outskirts of that little town
yonder are the first boundaries.
Lucidor. I see you are in a strange
mood. You do not seem to say outright what
you wished to say.
Julia. Now look down here on the left,
how beautifully everything discloses itself!
The church with its high lime-trees, the town-
house with its poplars, behind the village
mound. The gardens, too, are lying before
us, and the park.
The postilion drove faster.
Julia. You recognize that pavilion up
there; it looks just as pretty from here as the
landscape does from there. At this tree we
stop. Now, just at this spot, we are reflected
up there in the large glass surface. They can
see us there very well, but we cannot dis-
tinguish ourselves. Drive on! Probably it
is not long since two people have reflected
themselves there more closely, and, if Im not
much mistaken, with great mutual satisfac-
Lucidor in his vexation made no reply.

They drove along for a while in silence; the j
pace was very swift.
Here, said Julia, the bad road begins; j
some day you may make it a credit to you. ;
Before we drive downwards look once more
across the country: my mothers beech-tree,
with its magnificent summit, towers above
You drive on, she continued to the
coachman, along the bad road; we will
take the footpath through the valley, and will
arrive over there before you.
In descending, she exclaimed: You must
confess, however, that the Wandering Jew,
the restless Antony Roamer,* knows how to
make his pilgrimages tolerably comfortable
for himself and his companions. It is a very
handsome and comfortable carriage.
And by this time she was at the bottom of
the hill. Lucidor followed thoughtfully, and
found her sitting on a nicely-placed bench.
It was Lucindas favorite place. She beck-
oned him to her.
Julia. So we are sitting here, and are
nothing to one another!and yet it was to ;
have been so. The little Quicksilver would j
not have at all suited you. You could not j
love such a creature; she was repugnant to j
Lucidors astonishment increased.
Julia. But Lucinda, nowshe is the
compendium of all perfedlions, and the pretty
sister was once for all cut out. I see it; the
question is trembling on your lipswho could
have informed us so correctly?
Lucidor. A traitor lurks behind.
Julia. Yes, indeed, there is a traitor in
the game.
Lucidor. Name him.
Julia. He is soon unmasked. It is
yourself! You have the praiseworthy, or
blameworthy, habit of talking to yourself,
and so I will confess, in -the name of all of us,
that we have in turns overheard you.
Lucidor (jumping up). A nice sort of
hospitality, to set a trap for the guest in this
Julia. Not at all. We did not think of
listening to you more than to any other indi-
vidual. You know that your bed stands in a
recess in the wall, and on the opposite side
there is another, which generally serves only
as a domestic repository. There we had, a
few days before, forced our old gentleman to
* See note, p. 48.
sleep, because we were a good deal concerned
about him in his distant hermitage. Now on
the very first evening you entered on the affair
with that passionate soliloquy, the purport of
which he most opportunely disclosed to us the
next morning.
Lucidor had no heart to interrupt her. He
moved away.
Julia (rising and following him). And
of what service this declaration was to us!
For, I confess, although you were not pre-
cisely antipathic to me, still the position that
awaited me was by no means so desirable.
To become a Madam High-bailiff,'what a
horrible position! To get a good, honest
man, whose duty it is to declare the law to
the people, and who by sheer weight of law
can never attain to justice; who does justice
neither by laws above nor below, and, what is
worst, not even to himself. I know what my
mother has suffered from the incorruptibility,
the inflexibility, of my father. At last, un-
fortunately after her death, he began to dis-
play a certain tenderness. He seemed to
accommodate himself to the world; to recon-
cile himself to it, having hitherto vainly-
fought against it.
Lucidor (highly displeased at the affair, and
vexed at her frivolous treatment of itstands
still). For the diversion of one evening
this might pass; but to practise such a morti-
fying mystification for days and nights on an
unsuspecting guest, is unpardonable.
Julia. We have all shared in the guilt,
we have all overheard you; but I alone ex-
piate the guilt of listening.
Lucidor. All! So much the more un-
pardonable. And how could you, during the
day, look, without feeling abashed, at one
whom you so disgracefully and illegitimately
cheated by night? Still, I now see quite
clearly in a glance that all your arrangements
for the day were only calculated to make a
fool of me. A worthy family indeed And
what becomes of your fathers love of fair-
ness? And Lucinda--------
Julia. And Lucinda,what a tone!
You would say how deeply it grieves you to
think evil of Lucinda, to throw Lucinda into
the same class with all the rest of us.
Lucidor. I do not understand Lucinda.
Julia. You mean to say, This pure soul,
this quiet, composed being; goodness, benevo-
lence personified.; this woman as she ought to
be, associating herself with a frivolous com-
panywith an inconsiderate sister, a spoiled

Wilhelm Me is ter s Travels.
youngster, and certain other mysterious per-
sonsthat remains incomprehensible.
Lucidor. Yes, it is indeed incompre-
Julia. Well, then, comprehend it. Lu-
cindas hands, like those of all of us, were
tied. If you had been able to observe her
embarrassment, and how she could hardly re-
strain herself from revealing everything to
you, you would love her doubly and trebly,
if every true love were not on its own ac-
count ten and hundred-fold. Besides, I as-
sure you the joke in the end became tedious
to all of us.
Lucidor. Why did you not put an end
to it?
keeps to any thought, inclination or plan, and
I am anxious enough about it. He has mixed
up Julia, his maps and views, so closely in his
thoughts, that he has already formed the plan
of finally establishing everything here, when
the day should come for the young couple to
settle down here, and could not so easily
change position and place: then he would
devote to us every holiday, and whatever of
kindness and goodness he had in mind. He
must first know what a trick nature had played
upon us, for as yet nothing has been declared,
nothing decided. Thereupon he took from
us all the most solemn hand-pledge that we
would watch you and, happen what might,
would keep you here. How his return has
Julia. That too must now be explained.
When your first monologue had become
known to our father, and he could soon ob-
serve that none of his children had any ob-
jection to such an exchange, then he deter-
mined to go over at once to your father.
The importance of the business gave him
some misgivings. Only a father can feel the
respeCt that is due to a father. He must be
informed about it at the very first, said
mine, if afterwards, when we are agreed,
he is not to give a forced, reluClant consent.
I know him exactly; I know how firmly he
been delayed, how it has cost art, labor and
perseverance to obtain your fathers con-
sent, that you may hear from him yourself.
Enough, the thing is settled, and Lucinda is
granted to you.
And thus the two, quickly leaving their first
seat, but stopping on the road, talking con-
tinuously, and slowly walking onwards, had
reached an elevation on the other side of the
meadows and another well-constru<5led high-
The carriage came driving quickly towards
them; in a moment she directed her com-

panions attention to a strange spe<5tacle. All
the machinery in which her brother took such
pride was now animated and in motion; the
wheels were conveying a number of people up
and down, swings were oscillating, poles were
being climbed, and you might see essayed all
kinds of bold leaps and springs above the
heads of a countless multitude.
All this the young squire had put into mo-
tion, in order to entertain the guests merrily
after dinner.
You will still drive through the lower
village, exclaimed Julia; the people like
me, and they shall see how happy I am.
The village was deserted; the young men
had already hastened, one and all, towards
the pleasure-ground; old men and women,
aroused by the post-horn, showed themselves
at doors and windows; they were all greetings
and blessings, and exclamations: What a
handsome couple!
Julia. There now, you hear! we should
probably have suited one another in the end;
you may still repent it.
Lucidor. But now, dear sister-in-law
Julia. Just so!dear, now that you
have got rid of me.
Lucidor. Only a word more. There
rests a heavy responsibility upon you; what
was the meaning of that pressing of my hand,
when you knew and must have felt my awful
position? Anything so thoroughly wicked I
have never yet known in this world.
Julia. Thank God, if that were ex-
piated, all would be forgiven! I did not
want you it is true; but, that you would have
nothing to do with me, is a thing that no girl
forgives, and that pressure of the hand, you
see, was for the wretch. I confess that it was
more villanous than was right, and I only
forgive myself in forgiving you, and so let
all be forgiven and forgotten! Here is my
He accepted it, and exclaimed: Here we
are back again alreadyalready back in our
park; and so you will probably soon have
made the round of the wide world and per-
haps back: we shall meet again.
They had already arrived before the garden
saloon. It seemed empty; the company, dis-
contented at seeing dinner-time so long de-
layed, had set out for a walk, but Antony and
Lucinda came forward. Julia threw herself
out of the carriage towards her friend, she
thanked him with a cordial embrace, and did
not refrain from tears of deepest joy. The
cheeks of the noble man reddened, his fea-
tures expanded themselves, his eye looked be-
dimmed, and from beneath this outward form
shone forth a handsome striking youth.
And thus the two couples proceeded to-
wards the company, with feelings that the
loveliest dream could not bestow.
Father and son, accompanied by a groom,
had reached a pleasant neighborhood, when
the latter, stopping in front of a lofty wall
that seemed to surround an extensive enclos-
ure, intimated to them that they had now to
approach the great gate on foot, for no horse
was admitted within this enclosure. They
rang the bell; the gate was opened without a
human figure being visible, and they advanced
towards an old building that peeped out to-
wards them between the venerable trunks of
beeches and oaks. It was wonderful to look
at; for old it seemed in form, yet the brick-
layers and stonemasons might but just have
left it, so new and perfect and well-finished
seemed the joints and elaborated decora-
A heavy metal ring on a finely-carved door
invited them to knock, which Felix from wan-
tonness did somewhat ungently; this door too
opened itself, and they found at once in the
hall a maiden lady of middle age, sitting be-
fore an embroidery-frame, and occupied with
a well-designed piece of work.
She at once greeted the visitors as being
already expedited, and began to sing a cheer-
ful song, whereupon there forthwith stepped
out of an adjacent door a woman, whom, from
the appendages to her girdle, without any-
thing else, it was easy to recognize as the cus-
todian and adting housekeeper. She also with
a friendly greeting took the strangers up a
flight of stairs, and opened for them a room
which impressed them in a solemn way, being
spacious, lofty, and panelled all round, with a
series of historical designs above. Two per-
sons came towards thema somewhat youth-
ful lady, and an elderly man.
The former at once frankly bade the guests
welcome. You have, she said, been an-
nounced as one of our circle. But how shall
I without ceremony introduce you to this gen-
tleman ? He is a family friend in the best and

widest sense: by day the instructive compan-
ion, by night astronomer, and physician on
every occasion.
And I, added he, in friendly manner, j
recommend to you this lady, as untiringly :
active, by day, by night when need be, ready J
at hand, and always the most cheerful com-
panion to live with. Angela (for so this
beauty, attractive both in figure and bearing, j
was called) announced forthwith Makarias j
approach: a green curtain was drawn aside,
and a remarkable elderly lady was pushed into
the room in an easy chair by two pretty young
girls, and by two other girls a round table,
with an inviting breakfast. In one corner of
'the massive oak benches round the room
cushions had been laid, upon which the three
above mentioned sat down, opposite to Maka-
ria in her easy chair. Felix ate his breakfast
standing, walking about the saloon, and in-
specting with curiosity the knightly pictures
Makaria spoke to Wilhelm as to a confiden-
tial friend. She seemed to enjoy a vivid
description of her relatives; it seemed as if
she looked through the outward individual
mask into the inner nature of each of them.
The persons whom Wilhelm knew stood as if
transfigured before his soul: the intelligent
benevolence of the worthy woman threw off
the outward husk, and ennobled and animated
the sound kernel.
After these agreeable subjects had been ex-
hausted with most kindly treatment, she said
to her worthy companion: You must not
again find an excuse in the presence of*this
new friend, and once more put off the prom-
ised entertainment; he seems like one who
would take a part in it himself.
But to this he replied: You know how
difficult it is to explain ones self on these
subjects; for the question is of nothing less
than the abuse of excellent and far-reaching
I grant that, replied Makaria, for one
falls into a double embarrassment. If one
speaks of abuse, one seems to impugn the
worth of the method itself, for that is always
latent in the abuse; if one speaks about the
method, then one can scarcely allow that its
thoroughness and value admit of any abuse.
Still, as we are in private, and do not want to
establish anything, or to produce any outward
effect, but only to enlighten ourselves, the dis-
cussion can accordingly proceed.
Still, replied the cautious man, we
must first of all ask whether our new friend
has also a wish to take part in a to some de-
gree abstruse matter, or whether he would
not prefer to take needful repose in his apart-
ment. Can our subject be willingly and fav-
orably received by him apart from its con-
nection, without any knowledge as to how we
arrived at it?
If I were to explain by something analogous
what you have said, the case seems to me to be
almost as if in attacking hypocrisy one could
be accused of an attack against religion.
We may let the analogy pass, said the
friend; for the question now is of a compli-
cation of several remarkable men, of high
science, of an important art, and, in short, of
I have always, replied Wilhelm, even
when I have heard the most unfamiliar sub-
jects discussed, been able to appropriate some-
thing to myself; for whatever interests one
man, will also find a sympathetic echo in
Assuming, said the other, that he has
acquired a certain freedom of mind; and as
we give you credit for this, I will not on my part
at least make any objection to your presence
But what shall we do with Felix? asked
Makaria, who I see has already finished his
inspection of the pictures, and shows some
signs of impatience.
May I whisper something to this young
lady, said Felix, running somewhat quietly
up to Angela, who went aside with him, but
soon returned laughing, when the friend began
to speak as follows:
In cases in which one has to express dis-
approval, or blame, or even only misgiving, I
do not like to take the initiative; I look out
for an authority, so that I can reassure myself,
l in finding that some else stands by me. I
praise without misgiving, for why should I be
silent, if anything falls in with me. Even if
it should evince my narrowness, still I have
no need to be ashamed of it; but if I blame,
it may happen to me that I reject something
of excellence, and thereby draw on myself the
disapproval of others who understand it bet-
ter ; I am obliged to retract, when I become
enlightened. Therefore I here bring some
written matter, and some translations as well;
for in such things I trust my own nation as
little as myself: an agreement from a distance
and from foreign parts seems to afford me
more security.

After obtaining permission he began to read
as follows:----but our courteous readers will
probably be inclined to approve, if we do not
think fit to let this worthy man read. For
what has been said above about the presence
of Wilhelm at this discussion, applies even
more to the case in which we find ourselves.
Our friends have taken into their hands a
novel, and if this has here and there turned
out more than reasonably didadtic, we find it
advisable not to try too far the patience of
our well-wishers. The documents that lie be-
fore us, we are thinking of having printed in
some other place, and on this occasion shall
continue the narrative without delay, since we
ourselves are impatient to see the existing
riddle solved. But still we cannot refrain
from making some further mention of what
came under discussion before the separation
of this noble company in the evening.
Wilhelm, after listening with great attention
to this reading, remarked quite unaffedledly:
I have heard here about great natural gifts,
capacities and abilities, and at the same time
about considerable diffidence in the use of
them; if I were to express myself briefly
about it, I should exclaim: Great thoughts,
and a pure heart, that is what we have to pray
God for! _
Granting its full approval to these sensible
words, the company separated: but the astron-
omer promised to let Wilhelm, on this clear
and splendid night, have his full share in all
the wonders of the starry firmament.
A few hours later the astronomer bid his
guest ascend the winding staircase of the ob-
servatory, and at last step out upon the com-
pletely open platform of a lofty round tower.
A most brilliant night, sparkling and glowing
with all the stars of heaven, surrounded the
observer, who seemed for the first time to
behold the lofty firmament in all its glory.

For in daily life,irrespective of unfavorable
weather, that conceals from us the splendid
extent of ether,at home we are hindered by
roofs and gables, abroad by forests and by
rocks, but most of all and everywhere by the
inward commotions of the mind, which flit to
and fro and obscure the prospect more than
all fogs or storms.
Rapt and astonished, he shut his eyes. The
immense ceases to be sublime; it surpasses our
faculty of comprehension, it threatens to an-
nihilate us.
What am I then, in comparison with the
All ? he said to his own spirit. Flow can I
stand opposite to Him ?how can I stand in
Flis midst?
Yet, after a short reverie, he continued:
The result of our evenings conference
solves also the riddle of the present moment.
How can man set himself against the Infinite,
otherwise than by collecting in his deepest
innermost soul all the spiritual energies that
are scattered in every direction; but by asking
himself, How durst thou even think of thyself
in the midst of this eternal and living order,
if there do not also reveal itself within thee
a glorious moving principle circling round a
pure centre? And even if it should prove
difficult for thee to discover this central point
within thy bosom, yet wouldst thou recognize
it in this, that a benevolent and beneficent
aCtion proceeds from it, and bears witness to
it. Yet, who ought, who is able to look back
upon his past life, without feeling in some
degree bewildered; as he will mostly find
that his will has been right, but his conduCt
wrong; that his desires have been blamewor-
thy, yet their attainment longed-for. How
often hast thou seen these stars twinkling, and
have they not always found thee different? but
they are ever the same, and say ever the same
thing: By our regulated march, they repeat,
we indicate the day and the hour. Ask thy-
self also, How standest thou in reference to
day and hour? And this time I can answer,
Of present circumstances I need not be
ashamed : my intention is to reinstate a noble
family in longed-for union in all its members;
the road is indicated. I shall inquire into
what keeps noble souls aloof; I shall remove
hindrances, of whatsoever kind they be.
This thou mayest openly avow in face of these
heavenly hosts: if they took any heed of
thee, they would indeed laugh at thy narrow-
ness, but they would certainly honor thine in-
tention, and favor its fulfilment.
With these words and thoughts he turned
round to look about him; then Jupiter, the
star of fortune, met his eye, as gloriously
luminous as ever; he took this as a good
omen, and for a time lingered gladly over the
Presently the astronomer bade him come
down, and let him look through a perfeCt
telescope at this very star, considerably mag-
nified and accompanied by its moons, as a
celestial wonder.
After our friend had remained some time
absorbed in it, he turned round and said to
the star-lover: I do not know whether I
have to thank you for having brought this star
so immeasurably nearer to me. As I saw it
before, it stood in some relation to the in-
numerable others of heaven and to myself;
but now it stands out in my imagination as in-
| commensurable, and I do not know whether
! I ought to wish to bring out all the remaining
host in like proportion. They would shut me
in, oppress me.
And so our friend went on according to his
custom, and a good deal that was unpremedi-
tated was discussed on the occasion. To some
reply of the man of science, Wilhelm re-
joined: lean very well understand, that it
must give you sky-searchers the greatest plea-
j sure gradually to draw down to you all the
! immense universe, as I here saw, and see, this
j planet: but allow me to say that, in life in
! general and on the whole, I have found that
j these means, by which we come to the aid of
! our senses, do not exercise any morally favor-
; able influence on man. He who looks
through spectacles thinks himself wiser than
; he is, for his outward sense is thereby put out
of balance with his inner faculty of judgment.
: It belongs to a higher culture, of which only
! excellent men are capable, to reconcile in
I some degree what is inwardly true, with this
outward false effeCt. Whenever I look
through a glass 1 become another man, and
do not please myself; I see more than I ought
to see; the world, seen more distinctly, does
not harmonize with my inner seif; and I
quickly put aside my glasses, as soon as my
curiosity as to how this or that distant objeCt
may be made is satisfied.
In reply to certain jocose remarks of the
astronomer, Wilhelm continued : We shall
not banish these glasses from the world, any
more than any piece of machinery; but to
the observer of morals, it is important to in-
quire and to know whence many things about

which complaints are made have crept into
humanity. Thus, for instance, I am con-
vinced that to the habit of wearing spectacles
is chiefly due the self-conceit of our young
With these discussions the night had far ad-
vanced, whereupon the astronomer, accus-
tomed to watching, proposed to his young
jumped up, and hurried to the window; there
he remained for a moment transfixed with as-
tonishment, and then exclaimed enthusiasti-
cally: What splendor! what a wondrous
sight! Other words of rapture followed,
but the sight still remained a wonder, a great
wonder to him.
That this lovely star, that to-day appears
friend to lie down on the camp-bed, and
sleep for a short time, and then with a fresher
glance to contemplate and greet Venus as she
anticipated the sunrisewho on this particu-
lar day promised to appear in her completed
Wilhelm, who up to this moment had felt
quite brisk and cheerful, at this proposal of
the kind and considerate man, felt himself
really exhausted; he laid himself down, and
in a moment was sunk in the deepest slum-
When aroused by the astronomer, Wilhelm
in a fulness and splendor quite unusual, would
surprise you. I could foresee; but this I may
maintain, without being reproached for being
cold: I see nothing wonderfulnothing won-
derful at all!
How could you? replied Wilhelm,
since I bring it with me, since I carry it
within me, since I do not know how it hap-
pens to me. Let me still look, dumb and as-
tounded at it; then do you feel it.
After a pause, he continued: I was lying
in soft but deep sleep, when I felt transported
into the saloon as yesterday, but alone. The

green curtain went up, Makarias chair moved
forward of its own accord, like an animated
being; it shone with gold, her dress seemed
sacerdotal, her glance sparkled mildly; I was
on the point of throwing myself down.
Clouds spread forth around her feet, and as-
cending they bore like wings the holy form
upwards: instead of her glorious countenance
I beheld through the parting clouds a shining
star, that was ever carried upwards, and
through the opening roof united itself with
the whole firmament, which seemed to be ever
expanding and to embrace everything. In this
moment you arouse me; heavy with sleep I
rush to the window, still with the vivid image
of the star in my eye, and as I look, the morn-
ing star, of equal beauty, although perhaps
not of such refulgent magnificence, is really
before me! This real star, hovering yonder
above, replaces that of my dream, it con-
sumes all that was glorious in that which
appeared to me; but still I look and look,
and you are looking also with me at what in
point of faCt ought to have disappeared with
the haze of my sleep.
The astronomer exclaimed: Wonderful,
wonderful indeed You do not know, your-
self, what wonderful things you are saying.
May this not prognosticate the decease of the
glorious woman, to whom sooner or later
some such apotheosis is predestined.
The next morning Wilhelm, in search of
his Felix, who at an early hour had quietly
stolen away, hurried into the garden, which
to his astonishment he saw being tilled by a
number of girls. If not all beautiful, not
one was ugly, and none seemed to have
reached her twentieth year. They were
variously dressed, as if belonging to different
localities ; and were aCtive, cheerful in greet-
ing him, and industrious.
He was met by Angela, who was walking to
and fro in order to direCt and criticise the
work ; and to her the guest expressed his ad-
miration at so pretty and industrious a
This, she replied, does not die out; it
alters, but remains always the same. For
with their twentieth year these girls, as indeed
do all the female inhabitants of our establish-
ment, enter upon aCtive life, generally into
the state of marriage. All the young men of
the neighborhood, who are anxious to obtain
for themselves a robust wife, pay attention to
what is going on here with us. Neither are
our pupils in any way shut up in this place;
' they have already looked round about them
j at many an annual fair have been seen, de-
sired, and betrothed; and thus several families
are already attentively waiting for another
vacancy with us in order to introduce their
own daughters.
After they had discussed this matter, the
guest could not conceal from his new friend
his desire once more to look through what had
been read to them on the previous evening.
I have grasped the main drift of the conver-
sation, he said, but now I should like to
know more corredlly the details which came
into question. Fortunately I find myself
in a position, she replied, to satisfy this
wish of yours at once; the familiar relations
towards us, that have been granted to you so
soon, justify me in telling you, that those
papers are already in my hands, to be care-
fully kept, along with certain other docu-
My mistress, she continued, is pro-
foundly convinced of the importance of im-
promptu conversation; things occur therein,
she says, that no book contains, and yet again
the best that books have ever contained. There-
fore she has charged me with the duty of preserv-
ing a few good thoughts that spring from an
intellectual conversation as so many grains of
seed from a well-laden plant. Only if we are
faithful in preserving the present, she says,
can we have pleasure in tradition, in finding
the best thought already spoken, the most
worthy sentiment already expressed. By this
process we attain to the contemplation of that
agreement for which man has been born, in
which he must often find himself against his
own will, whilst he is only too fond of fancy-
ing that the world begins with him from the
very beginning.
Angela went on to confide to the guest, that
in this manner a considerable manuscript col-
lection had grown up, from which on sleepless
nights she would sometimes read aloud a
sheet to Makaria; on which occasions a thou-
sand details would in turn present themselves
in a wonderful way, just as when a mass of
mercury falls, and scatters itself on all sides
in an innumerable multitude of globules.
To his question, how far this collection of
papers was kept secret, she revealed to him
that at all events only their most intimate
circle had knowledge of it, that she was quite
willing to be responsible for it, and, since he
desired it, to lay a few sheets before him.
During this garden conversation they had

arrived at the chateau, and entering the room
in one of the wings, she said, smiling: I
will take this opportunity of intrusting you
with another secret, for which you will be by no
means prepared. Thereupon she made him
peep through a curtain into a closet, where,
to his great astonishment, he saw his own Felix
sitting writing at a table, and was unable at
once to explain to himself this unexpected
diligence. But he was soon enlightened,
when Angela disclosed to him that the boy
had seized for this purpose the moment of his
disappearance, and had declared that writing
and riding were the only things in which he
had pleasure.
Our friend was then introduced into a room,
where in cupboards round about he saw a
number of well-arranged papers. Labels of
many kinds indicated the most various con-
tents; discrimination and orderly arrange-
ment were everywhere conspicuous.
When Wilhelm proceeded to praise these
advantages, Angela gave the credit of it to
the family friendwho was capable of settling
under his own supervision not only the ar-
rangement, but also in cases of difficulty the
necessary interpolation. Thereupon she found
out the manuscript that had been read aloud
yesterday, and allowed the eager guest to
avail himself of it and all the rest, and not
only take notes, but even to copy them.
Here our friend had to go to work care-
fully, for there was only too much that was
attractive and desirable: especially did he
regard certain sheets of short and scarcely
connected propositions as particularly valua-
ble. They were products which, if we did
not know their origins, would seem paradoxi-
cal, but which compel us by the aid of a re-
versed process of seeking and finding to return
backwards in order if possible to bring home
to us the filiation of such thoughts from afar
and from below. Neither for these, for the
reasons stated above, can we grant a place.
Still, at the first opportunity that presents
itself, we shall not negleCt, and shall be able
in a proper place to put forward a selection
of what was here acquired.
On the morning of the third day our friend
went to Angela and stood before her not
without some embarrassment. To-day I
must take leave, he said, and receive my
last commissions from that excellent lady,
whom I regret that I was not allowed to see
during the whole of yesterday. Now, some-
thing is weighing on my heart, on my own
innermost soul, about which I have wished to
be enlightened. If it be possible, then grant
me this favor.
I think I understand you, said the kind
woman; yet speak on.
A wonderful dream, he continued, a
few words also from the earnest astronomer, a
separate locked compartment among the ac-
cessible cases, with the inscription, The quali-
ties of Makariaall these suggestions are
associated with an inner voice, that tells me
that this study of the heavenly bodies is not
merely a scientific amusement, a striving after
knowledge of the world of stars, but that we
ought rather to suppose that there is hidden
in it some peculiar relation of Makaria to the
stars, to know which must be a matter of the
highest interest to me. I am neither inquisi-
tive nor importunate, but this forms such an
important case to the student of mind and char-
acter, that I cannot refrain from asking
whether, in addition to so much confidence,
this extra indulgence might also be kindly
And I have the right to grant this, re-
plied the amiable woman. Your remarkable
dream has remained indeed a secret to Maka-
ria, but with our friends I have observed and
considered your singular intellectual sym-
pathy, your unexpected comprehension of the
deepest secrets; and we may take courage to
lead you further. Allow me in the first in-
stance to speak figuratively! In things diffi-
cult of comprehension one does well to help
ones self in this fashion.
As is said of the poet, the elements of the
moral world are hidden in the depths of his
nature, and have had to develop themselves
from him little by little, so that nothing ex-
isting in the world would come to view but
of what he had previously had a presentiment:
even thus, it will seem, the relations of our
solar system from the beginning, at first in a
state of rest, then little by little developing,
and afterwards becoming ever more distinctly
animated, are fundamentally innate in Maka-
ria. At first she suffered from these appari-
tions, then she took pleasure in them, and
with her years her enjoyment increased. Yet
she did not attain to the present harmony
and repose until she had gained the aid of the
friend whose merits you too have already
learned to know sufficiently well.
As a mathematician and philosopher, in-
credulous from the beginning, she was long
doubtful whether this visionary power of hers

Wilhelm Master's Travels.

was not acquired; for Makaria had to allow
that, at an early age, she had enjoyed instruc-
tion in astronomy, and had studied it passion-
ately. But at the same time, she also in-
formed him, for many years of her life she
had put together and compared the inward
apparitions and the outward phenomena, but
never had been able to find out any harmony
between them.
Thereupon the man of science bade her
explain to him most minutely what she saw,
which only from time to time was quite clear
to her; he then made his calculations, and
concluded hence, that she did not so much
carry within herself the whole solar system, but
rather that as an integral part she was spirit-
ually moving within it. He proceeded on
this supposition, and his calculations were
corroborated in an incredible way by her
Thus much only do I for this time ven-
ture to confide to you, and this too I reveal
only with the urgent request not to mention a
word of it to anybody. For would not every
man of sense and understanding, with the
purest good will, still regard and declare such
opinions to be mere fancies and misunderstood
reminiscences of a previously acquired science ?
Even her family know nothing more precise
about it; it is these secret revelations, these
rapturous visions, that amongst her relations
pass for a malady, by which she is for a time
prevented from taking a part in the world and
in her own interests. This, my friend, keep
quietly to yourself, and also say nothing about
it to Lenardo.
Towards evening our wanderer was once
more led into Makarias presence: much that
was pleasantly instructive came under discus-
sion, from which we select the following:
From nature we possess no defect that
could not become a virtue, and no virtue that
could not become a fault. These latter are
just the most problematical. Our wonderful
nephew has chiefly given me occasion to make
this remarkthe young man about whom you
have heard in our family so many singular
things, and whom I, according to my relatives,
are said to treat more indulgently and lovingly
than is due.
From youth up there was developed in
him a certain lively, technical cleverness, to
which he entirely devoted himself, and in
which he happily advanced to manifold knowl-
edge and acquirements. Later, everything
that he sent home from his travels was always
of the most artistic, skilful, refined, and deli-
cate handiwork, indicative of the country in
which he might happen to be, and which we
were expected to guess. From this it might be
concluded that he was and would remain a dry,
unsympathetic man, wrapped up in external
things; in conversation, too, he was not dis-
posed to agree in general ethical matters, but
privately and in secret he was endowed with a
wonderfully fine practical sense of good and
evil, the praiseworthy and the unpraiseworthy;
such that I have never seen him at fault either
towards his elders or juniors, his superiors or
inferiors. But this innate consciousness, un-
bridled as it was, in single instances trans-
formed itself into a whimsical weakness; he
I would even invent for himself duties where
| they were not required, and sometimes quite
needlessly avow himself a delinquent.
From his whole plan of travel, but par-
ticularly from his preparations for returning,
I believe that he fancies himself to have
offended a certain female belonging to our cir-
cle, whose fate now causes him anxiety, from
which he would feel relieved and absolved as
soon as he could hear that she was well; and
Angela will tell you the rest. Take this let-
ter, and prepare a happy reunion for our
family. I sincerely confess I would wish to
j see him once more in this world, and in
taking leave of it to bless him with all my
When Wilhelm had circumstantially and
correctly discharged his commission, Lenardo
replied, with a smile: Much obliged as I
am to you for what I hear from you, still I
must add a question. Has not my aunt, in
conclusion, further commissioned you to in-
form me of a seemingly trifling matter?
The other reflected a moment. Yes, he
then said, I now recoiled!. She mentioned
a young lady whom she called Valerina. Of
her I had to tell you that she is happily
married, and finds herself in a very desirable
You roll a stone from my heart, replied
Lenardo. Now I willingly return home,
because I need not fear that the recollection
of this girl will make the place and spot a re-
proach to me.
It beseems me not to ask what relation

you have had with her; said Wilhelm;
enough, you may be at ease, if you should
in any way sympathize with the fate of this
girl. .
It is the strangest relation in the world,
said Lenardo; by no means a love affair, as
one might easily fancy. I may well confide
in and tell you what, in point of fa<5t, is no
story; but what will you think when I tell
you that my hesitation to return, the fear of
coming back to our home, those strange
arrangements and questions as to how matters
looked, really had the objedt only of finding
out precisely how matters stood with this
For, believe me, he continued, I
otherwise know well enough that we can
leave people whom we know, for a length of
time, without finding them again materially
altered, and so too I expedl soon to feel my-
self again quite at home with my relatives.
It was only the question of this single person,
whose situation must have been altered, and
has, thank Heaven! altered itself for the
You make me curious, said Wilhelm.
You make me anticipate something quite
I at least think it so, replied Lenardo,
and began his story as follows:
I had from youth up cherished the firm
resolve of making the usual tour through
civilized Europe in my young days, but, as
will happen, I deferred its execution from
time to time. The present attracted me,
held me, and the distant more and more lost
its charm to me, the more I read or heard told
about it. Yet at last, urged by my uncle,
enticed by friends, who had gone into the
world before me, the resolve was made, and
in fa6t sooner than we were all well aware of.
My uncle, who in point of facSt had to
contribute the most in order to make the
journey possible, had at once no other objedt.
You know him and his peculiarity, how he
always drives only at one thing, and first sets
that going whilst in the meantime everything
else has to abide and be quiet, whereby he has
really effected a great deal that might seem to
be beyond the power of a single individual.
This journey came upon him in some degree
unexpectedly; but still he was able to collect
himself at once. Certain buildings, that he
had undertaken, nay, actually begun, were
discontinued, and as he never likes to infringe
on his savings, like a clever financier he
looked about for some other expedients. The
most convenient was to collect outstanding
debts, especially rents in arrear, for this too
was part of his method, that he was indulgent
towards debtors, as long as he, to a certain
point, was in no necessity himself. His
steward received the list, and on him devolved
the execution. About the details we heard
nothing; only accidentally I heard that the
tenant of one of our farms, with whom my
uncle had long been patient, had at last been
actually evidted, his caution money retained
in scanty satisfaction for the deficiency, and
that the land was to be leased to some one
else. This man was one of the sect of the
Quiet-in-the-land,* but not, like his fel-
lows, also prudent and active; beloved in-
deed for his piety and benevolence, but
reproached for his weakness as a manager.
On the death of his wife, a daughter, who
was called simply the Nutbrown Maid, though
she already promised to grow up active and
determined, was far too young to take any
decided measures. Enough, the man went
down-hill, without my uncles indulgence
having been able to prevent his fate.
I had my journey in mind, and must
needs approve of the means for that end.
All was ready; the packing and untying went
on, the moments sped on. One evening I
once more strolled through the park, to take
leave of the familiar trees and bushes, when
all of a sudden Valerina crossed my path;
for so the girl was called; the other was but
a nickname occasioned by her brown com-
plexion. She stepped towards me.
Lenardo stopped an instant, and mused.
Yet, what is the matter with me? he said ;
was she called Valerina? Yes, indeed, he
continued; still, the nickname was the more
usual one. Enough, the brown girl stepped
towards me, and begged me warmly to inter-
pose a kind word with my uncle for her father
and for herself. As I knew how the matter
stood, and saw well enough that it would be
difficult, nay, impossible, at that moment to
do anything for them, I spoke frankly to her,
and put her fathers own delinquency in an
unfavorable light.
She answered me with so much clearness,
and at the same time with so much daughterly
indulgence and love, that she quite won my
heart, and if the money had been my own, I
* A religious sedt so called. See Goethes Auto-
biography (trans. vol. i. p. 30).

should at once have made her happy by grant-
ing her request. But it was now a question
of my uncles income; the arrangements were
his, the orders his; according to his way of
thinking, there was nothing to hope for from
what had already happened. Hitherto I had
always kept a promise sacred. Any one who
asked anything of me put me in a difficulty.
I had so accustomed myself to refuse, that I
did not even promise what I intended to per-
form. This time, too, this habit stood me in
good stead. Her motives rested on an indi-
vidual case and on affeCtion; mine on those
of duty and reason, and I do not deny that
in the end they seemed too severe even to
myself. We had already repeated the same
thing several times, without convincing one
another, when distress made her more elo-
quent, and the inevitable ruin, that she saw
before herself, forced tears from her eyes.
Her composed demeanor did not entirely for-
sake her, but she spoke with animation, with
emotion, and, whilst I still continued to feign
coldness and indifference, her whole soul was
revealed. I wished to end the scene, but all
of a sudden she lay at my feet, had seized my
hand, kissed it, and looked up at me so inno-
cently and amiably imploring, that for the
moment I forgot myself. Raising her from
the ground I hurriedly said to her; I will
do what I possibly can: be quiet, my child !
And then I turned into a side path.
Do what is impossible ! she called after
me. I do not remember what I wanted to
say, but I said, I will, and stopped.
Do! she cried suddenly, cheered with
an expression of heavenly hope. I nodded
to her and hurried away.
I would not in the first instance apply to
my uncle, for I knew him only too well: one
must not venture to remind him of details
when he was occupied with the whole. I
sought the steward; he had ridden out. In
the evening came guestsfriends who wished
to take leave. Playing and eating went on
until deep into the night. They remained
the following day, and the distraction blotted
out the picture of the urgent petitioner. The
steward returned; he was more busy and
overworked than ever. Everyone was asking
for him. He had no time to listen to me;
still, I made an attempt to get hold of him;
but scarcely had I mentioned the pious tenant
to him, than he waved me off with some im-
patience. Do not, for Heavens sake, say
anything to your uncle about it, unless you
want in the end to get into trouble yourself.
The day of my departure had been fixed;
I had to write letters, to receive guests, to pay
visits in the neighborhood. My people had

up to this time sufficed for my service, but
were by no means sufficiently dexterous in
lightening the business of departure. Every-
thing devolved upon myself; and yet, when
the steward at last gave me an hour at night
to settle our financial affairs, I once more ven-
tured to intercede for Valerinas father.
Dear baron, said this adtive personage, :
how can such a thing recur to you? I have
to-day had a difficult business with your
uncle; for what you require to get away from
here amounts to much more than we thought.
This is indeed quite natural, but yet awkward. ]
In particular, the old gentleman has no pleas- i
ure, if a thing seems to be done, while a good
deal still lags behind; yet it often happens, |
and the rest of us have to pay penalty for it. |
As regards the rigor with which outstanding |
debts have to be exadted, he has made a law j
for himself: he makes up his mind about it,
and it would be difficult to induce him to
give in. Dont do it, I beg you! It would
be altogether in vain.
I allowed myself to be deterred from my
request, but not entirely. I besought him,
since the execution depended upon him, to
go kindly and indulgently to work. He
promised everything, after the fashion of such
persons, in order to have peace for the mo-
ment. He got rid of me; the hurry, the
distraction increased. I sat in the carriage,
and turned my back on every sympathy that
I might have at home.
A lively impression is like any other
wound; one does not feel it as one receives
it. Only later it begins to pain and to fester.
So it was in my case in regard to the scene in
the grounds. Every time that I was alone or
unoccupied the image of the imploring girl
arose like a vivid picture before my soul, with
all its surroundings, with every tree and bush,
the place where she knelt, and the path down
which I turned to get away from her. It was
an indelible impression, that indeed could be
overshaded and veiled by other images and
sympathies, but never be eradicated. It al-
ways arose new at every quiet hour, and the
longer it lasted the more painfully I felt the
guilt with which I had loaded myself against
my principles, against my habitalthough
not expressly, but only blunderingly, for the
first time involved in such a case.
I did not fail, in my first letters, to ask
our agent how the affair had turned out. He
was some time in answering. Then he evaded
replying on this point, then his words were
equivocal; at last he was altogether silent.
The distance between us increased; more ob-
jects intervened between me and my home;
my attention was claimed for many observa-
tions and many sympathies; the image dis-
appeared, and the girl, almost to her very
name. The remembrance of her occurred
more seldom, and my fancy not to communi-
cate with my people through letters, but only
by means of tokens, contributed much to
make my former state of mind, with all its
accompanying conditions, almost disappear.
Now, only as I approach nearer home, when
I am thinking of reimbursing my family,
with interest, what they have hitherto been
content to dispense with, now I am again
assailed by this wonderful remorse (I must
even call it wonderful), in all its force. The
image of the girl is renewed with the images
of my friends, and I dread nothing more than
to hear that she has succumbed in the mis-
fortune into which I plunged her; for my
negleCt appeared to me a help towards her
ruin, a hastening of her sad fate. I have al-
ready said to myself a thousand times, that
this feeling was in reality only a weakness,
that, long ago, I had been impelled to make
the rule never to give a promise solely from
fear of repentance, and not from any more
noble feeling. And now even the repentance,
which I shunned, seems to take its revenge on
me, laying hold of this instance instead of a
thousand others to torture me. At the same
time the image, the picture, that tortures me,
is so pleasant, so sweet, that I willingly linger
over it. And when I think about it, then the
kiss, which she impressed upon my hand,
seems still to burn me.
Lenardo was silent, and Wilhelm replied
quickly and cheerfully: Then I could not
have shown you any greater service than by
the supplement to my message, just as the
most interesting part of a letter may often be
contained in the postscript. Indeed, I know
but little about Valerina, for I heard her only
casually mentioned; but she is certainly the
wife of a well-to-do landowner, and lives
happy, as your aunt assured me at parting.
Capital! said Lenardo; now, nothing
holds me back: you have absolved me, and
we will at once set off to my family, who,
moreover, have been waiting for me longer
than is right.
Wilhelm replied to this: Unfortunately I
am not able to accompany you; for a special
obligation devolves on me, never to rest

longer than three days, and not to revisit the
places that I leave within one year. Pardon
me, if I dare not explain to you the reason
of this singularity.
I am very sorry, said Lenardo, that
we should lose you so soon, and that I am un-
able to assist you in anything. Still, since
you have once set yourself in the way to do
me good, you would make me very happy if
you would go and seeValerina, inform your-
self precisely about her affairs, and then,
either by letter or word of mouthfor a third
place of meeting can easily be foundwould
give me, for the sake of my peace of mind, a
circumstantial report.
This scheme was further discussed; Wil-
helm had been told Valerinas place of abode.
He undertook to go and see her; another
place was appointed, whither the baron was to
come, and also bring with him Felix, who in
the meantime had remained behind with the
Lenardo and Wilhelm, riding side by side,
had pursued their way for some time, with
varied conversation, through pleasant mea-
dows, when they once more approached the
carriage road, and overtook the barons car-
riage, which was to wend its way homewards
in company with its master. Here the friends
decided to part, and Wilhelm in a few friendly
words took leave, and once more promised
the baron to write him speedy news from
When I consider, replied Lenardo,
that it would only be a little way round,
if I accompanied you, why should I not go
and see Valerina myself. Why not personally
convince myself of her happy condition ?
You were so kind as to offer your services as a
messenger; why should you not be my com-
panion? For a companion I must have, a
moral support, just as one obtains legal assist-
ance when one does not consider ones self
quite equal to the matter of law.
Wilhelms objedlions, that as the long-
absent one was being waited for at home it
might make a singular impression if the
carriage returned empty, and aught else of
the same kind, could not prevail with Len-
ardo, and Wilhelm had at last to accept the
part of a companion, with no pleasant
thoughts as to the consequences that were
to be feared. The servants, therefore, were
instrudled as to what they would have to say
on arrival, and the friends presently struck
the road that led to Yalerinas dwelling.
The neighborhood seemed rich and fruitful,
and the true home of agriculture. Thus, in
the ground belonging to Valerinas husband,
the soil was thoroughly good, and tilled with
great care.
Wilhelm had time to inspect the landscape
closely, while Lenardo rode in silence by his
At last the latter began: Another in my
place would perhaps try to approach Valerina
unknown; for it is always a painful sensation
to present ones self to those whom one has
offended; but I will rather endure that, and
bear the reproach that I fear from her first
glances, than screen myself from it by dis-
guise and falsehood. Falsehood may put us
in as great an embarrassment as truth; and
when we strike a balance of how often one or
the other avails us, it will always prove worth
our while once for all to resign ourselves to
truth. Let us therefore go forward confi-
dently; I shall give my name, and introduce
you as my friend and companion.
They had now reached the farmhouse, and
dismounted in the yard. A fine-looking man,
simply clad, whom they could have known
for a farmer, came towards them and an-
nounced himself as the master of the house.
Lenardo gave his name, and the farmer
seemed highly delighted to see him and to
make his acquaintance. What will my wife
say, he exclaimed, when she sees again
the nephew of her benefadlor! She cannot
imagine or describe all that she and her father
owe your uncle!
What strange ideas forthwith crossed each
other in Lenardos mind! Does this man,
who seems so honest, conceal his bitterness
behind a friendly face and smooth words? Is
he able to utter his reproaches with such a
pleasant outward aspect? For has not my
uncle made this family unhappy ? And can
it have remained unknown to him? Oras
it occurred to him with quick hopefulness
did the affair turn out less badly than you
think? For, after all, you have never re-
ceived any precise information. Such sup-
positions alternated to and fro, whilst the
master of the house caused the horses to be
harnessed, in order to fetch, his wife, who was
paying a visit in the neighborhood.
If, in the meantime, until my wife returns,
I may entertain you after my fashion, and at
the same time continue my work, take a few
steps into the field with me, and see how I
manage my business; for surely to you, as a

great landowner, nothing can be more at-
tractive than the noble science, the noble art,
of tilling the soil.
Lenardo did not objeCt; Wilhelm was glad
to instruct himself; and the farmer kept his
land and soil, which he occupied and owned
without let or hindrance, in perfectly good
order. Whatever he undertook was calcu-
lated for the end in view; what he sowed and
planted was thoroughly in the right place; he
knew how to explain so clearly all the treat-
ment and the reasons, that anybody could
understand it, and would have thought it pos-
sible to do and achieve the samean illusion
into which we easily fall when we look at a
master who does everything with ease.
The strangers showed themselves highly
satisfied, and could bestow nothing but praise
and approval. This he took thankfully and
kindly, but still added, But now I must
also show you my weak side, which indeed is
always observable in anyone who devotes
himself exclusively to one objeCt.
He took them into his yard, showed them
his implements, his stock of these, as well as
the stock of all imaginable appliances, and
what appertained to them. I am often
blamed, he said, for going too far in these

Wilhelm Meislcr's Travels.
5^- Tyrarvy (^. 'Uforl^x. i
tilings; but indeed I cannot reproach myself
on that account. Happy is he to whom his
business also becomes his toy, who at last actu-
ally plays and enjoys himself in what his
situation has made a duty.
The two friends were not wanting in ques-
tions and inquiries. Wilhelm particularly
enjoyed the general remarks, to which this
man seemed addicted, and did not fail to
reply to them; whilst Lenardo, more absorbed
in himself, was quietly sympathizing with Vale-
rinas happinesswhich in this state of things
he took for grantedyet with a feeling of
uneasiness, of which he could give no account
to himself.
They had already returned to the house,
when the hostesss carriage drove up. They
hurried towards it; but how astonished, how
shocked was Lenardo, when he beheld her
dismount. It was not she; it was not the
Nuthrown Maid: nay, just the reversea
fine slim figure enough, it is true, but fair,
with all the advantages peculiar to fair
This beauty, this grace, shocked Lenardo.
His eyes had sought the brown maiden; now
there beamed on him quite a different one.
He remembered these features, too; her ad-
dress, her manner relieved him soon of every
uncertaintyit was the daughter of the law-
yer, who was held by the uncle in great
esteem, on which account he had also done a
good deal towards setting up and helping the
young couple.
All this, and more too, was joyfully re-
counted by the young woman as an intro-
ductory greeting, and with a delight such as
the surprise of recognition calls forth without
restraint. They inquired whether they re-
membered each other; they discussed the
alterations in appearance, that are perceptible
enough in persons of this age. Valerina had
always been charming, but was in the highest
degree amiable when joy drew her out of her
ordinary indifferent mood. The party be-
came talkative, and the conversation so lively,
that Lenardo could recover himself and hide
his astonishment. Wilhelm, to whom his
friend had soon given a hint about this
strange occurrence, did his best to help him;
and Valerinas little vanity, that the baron
had remembered her, even before he had seen
his own people, did not allow her to entertain
the least suspicion, that any other intention
or a misunderstanding was involved.
They remained together until late at night,
although the two friends were longing for a
confidential conversation, which began then
and there, as soon as they were alone together
in the guest-chamber.
'It seems, said Lenardo, that I am not
to be relieved of my anxiety. An unfortunate
confusion of names, as I perceive, increases
it. This fair beauty I have often seen playing
with the brown one, who could not be called
! a beauty; aye, even I myself, although much
older, used to run about with them in the
fields and gardens. Neither of them made
the slightest impression upon me; I have only
remembered the name of one of them, and
bestowed it on the other. Now I find the
one who does not interest me, after her own
fashion happy beyond measure, whilst the
other has been cast upon the wide world, who
knows whither!
On the following morning the friends were
up almost earlier than the aCtive farm-people.
The pleasure of seeing her guests had also
awakened Valerina betimes. She did not ap-
prehend in what frame of mind they came to
Wilhelm, who saw well that Lenardo re-
mained in a most painful state, without any
I information about the Nutbrown Maid, turned
| the conversation to pastimes, to games, to the
locality, which he himself knew, to other
! recollectionsso that Valerina at last quite
naturally came to mention the Nutbrown
Maid, and pronounced her name.
Scarcely had Lenardo heard the name of
Nachodina, than he remembered it perfectly;
but also, with the name, the image of the sup-
I plicant returned to him with such an over-
j whelming power, that everything else became
I quite unendurable as Valerina with warm sym-
I pathy related the eviction of the pious tenant,
his resignation, and his departure, and how
he had leaned upon his daughter, who carried
a little bundle. Lenardo thought that he
should faint. Unfortunately, and at the same
time fortunately, Valerina expatiated upon
certain circumstances, which although they
wounded Lenardos heart, still made it pos-
sible for him, with the assistance of his com-
panion, to show some presence of mind.
They took leave amidst many and sincere
requests on the part of husband and wife
that they would return soon, and half-feigned
assent on the part of the two guests. And as
with a man who has a good opinion of him-
self everything turns to his advantage, so
Valerina finally interpreted Lenardos silence,

his visible distraction at parting, his hurried
departure, in her own favor; and although
the faithful and loving wife of an excellent
farmer, she still could not help feeling a cer-
tain complacency in the reawakened or newly-
born inclination, as she took it to beof her
former landlord.
After this strange occurrence, Lenardo said:
With such fine hopes, to have been ship-
wrecked so close to the harbor! The only
thing that can now in any degree cheer me
up, tranquillize me for the moment, and let
me present myself to my people, is the con-
sideration that Heaven has sent you to me
you, to whom from the nature of your own
peculiar mission, it is indifferent whither or to
what purpose it direCls your path. Do you
then undertake to find Nachodina, and give
me news of her. If she is happy, then I am
content; if she is unhappy, then help her at
my expense. A6t without misgiving; spare,
omit nothing.
But towards what quarter of the earth,
said Wilhelm, laughing, must I direCl my
steps? If you yourself have no idea, how
shall I be endowed therewith?
Look here! answered Lenardo, last
night, when you saw me pacing restlessly to
and fro, passionately upsetting both my heart
and head about the matter, there came to my
mind an old friend, a worthy man, who with-
out exaClly tutoring me, has had a great influ-
ence upon my youth. I should like to have
had him, at least for some time, as a travelling
companion, if he had not been extraordinarily
bound to his home by the most beautiful
rarities of art and antiquity, which he only
leaves for a few moments at a time. He, I
know, enjoys an extensive acquaintance with
everything that in this world is bound by
a ly worthy clue; you hasten to him, tell him
all that I have said, and it remains to be
hoped, that his kindly feeling will suggest to
him some place, some region, where she may
be found. In my trouble it occurred to me,
that the father of the child belonged to the
denomination of Pietists; and, at the mo-
ment, I became sufficiently pious to apply
myself to the moral ordering of this world,
and to pray that in the present case, it may,
with miraculous grace, reveal itself for once
in my own favor.
But there is still a difficulty, replied
Wilhelm, that remains to be solved. What
must I do with my Felix? For I should not
like to take him about with me upon a so
utterly uncertain mission, and yet I should
not like to part with him, for it seems to me
that the son nowhere develops himself better
than in the presence of the father.
By no means! replied Lenardo; this
is a kindly paternal error. The father always
retains a kind of despotic relation towards
the son, whose virtues he does not recognize,
and in whose faults he takes pleasure; on
which account even the ancients used to say,
that the sons of heroes turned out good-for-
nothings, and I have seen enough of the
world to make up my mind as to that matter.
Happily our old friend, to whom I will at
once give you a hurried letter, will also be
able to suggest the best solution of this mat-
ter. When years ago I saw him last, he told
me a great deal about a certain pedagogic

Wilhelm Me ls levs Travels.
association which I could only consider a kind
of Utopia; it seemed to me as if, under the
image of reality, a series of ideas, thoughts,
proposals and intentions, were meant, which j
were really connedted, but which in the or- <
dinary course of things would be rather dif- '
ficult to meet with. But because I know him,
and because he likes to realize by means of
images what is possible and impossible, I ap-
proved of it, and now it will serve our pur-
pose; he is certainly able to indicate to you
the place and surroundings to which you can j
confidently intrust your boy, and hope the
best from a wise training.
Conversing together in this manner as they
rode, they came in view of a noble villa; its
construction in a pleasantly sombre style,
with an open space in front, and somewhat
farther, a dignified surrounding of well-grown
trees. Doors and shutters, however, were |
everywhere closed; all was deserted, yet at j
the same time looked in good condition, i
From an elderly man, who seemed to be em- i
ployed at the entrance, they learned that this |
was the inheritance of a young man, to whom
it had been left by his father, who had died
quite recently at a very advanced age.
On further inquiry, they were informed that
to the heir it unfortunately seemed all too
complete: nothing was left for him to do, and
that to enjoy things ready at hand was by no
means his fashion; that therefore he had
sought out for himself a locality nearer to J
the mountains, where he had built log huts
for himself and his companions, and intended |
to found a kind of hunters hermitage. As !
far as concerned their informant they gathered
that he was the hereditary steward, and took
the most punctilious care for the preservation i
and cleanliness of the premises, in order that I
a grandson, succeeding to the tastes and the ;
possession of the grandfather, might find
everything just as the latter had left it.
Having for some time pursued their road in
silence, Lenardo commenced with the obser-
vation, that it was a peculiarity inherent in
man to want to begin at the beginning; upon
which his friend replied, that this was an easy
thing to explain, and allow for, because in a
stri<5l sense everyone really did begin from
the beginning.
And yet, he exclaimed, if to none are
the sufferings remitted with which his ances-
tors were tortured, can you blame him for not
wanting to have anything to do with their
Lenardo thereupon replied, You en-
courage me to confess that in reality I do
not like to work at anything but what I have
myself created. I never liked a servant
whom I had not educated from a child, or
a horse that I had not myself broken in.
In consequence of this mode of thinking, I
will also willingly confess that I am irresisti-
bly drawn towards primitive conditions; that
my travels through all highly civilized lands
and people have not availed to blunt these
feelings; that my imagination seeks a pleasure
beyond the sea, and that a hitherto negleCted
family possession in those young countries
allows me to hope that a plan of mine, con-
ceived in solitude and gradually maturing in
accordance with my wishes, will at last be
I have nothing to object to this, Wil-
helm replied; an idea of this kind, turned
towards what is new and unsettled, has some-
thing peculiar and great about it. I only beg
you to reflect, that such an enterprise can
only succeed for a community. You cross
the sea, and there find family possessions
ready, I know; my friends entertain similar
plans, and have already settled there. Asso-
ciate yourself with these prudent, wise, and
strong people ; for both sides the matter will
thereby be lightened and enlarged.
With conversation of this kind the friends
reached the spot where they must now really
separate. They both sat down to write;
Lenardo recommended his friend to the
singular man above-mentioned, and Wilhelm
described to his colleagues the position of his
new associate, out of which naturally enough
arose a letter of recommendation, in which,
in conclusion, he also urged the matter that
he had discussed with Jarno, and further set
forth the reasons for which he wished to be
freed as soon as possible from the incon-
venient condition that stamped him as a
wandering Jew. In reading these letters to
each other, Wilhelm could not refrain from
again bringing home to his friend certain
other doubts.
I consider it, he said, in my position
the most enviable duty to free you, noble-
hearted man, from a state of mental anxiety,
and at the same time to rescue a human
creature from misery, if she happen to be
therein. Such an aim one might regard as a
star, by which we sail, even whilst ignorant of
what may happen to us, or what we may meet
on the road. Still, I cannot hide from my-

self the danger to which in any case you are
always exposed. If you were not a man who
absolutely declines to pledge his word, I
would require of you the promise never again
to see this female, who will cost you so dear;
to content yourself, if I inform you that she
is well, in case I should be fortunate enough
to ascertain that she is really happy, or am
able to contribute to her happiness. But,
since I neither can nor will induce you to
make any promise, I implore you, by all that
is dear to you and holy, for the sake of your-
self and your people, and of myself, your
newly-acquired friend, never to allow yourself
any approach to that lost maiden on any pre-
text whatever; nor to ask me to indicate
circumstantially, or even name the place,
where I may find her, or the neighborhood
where I leave her. You must only believe
my word that she is well, and therewith be
relieved and set at rest.
Lenardo laughed and replied: Only do
me this service, and I shall be grateful. You
shall have the credit for what you can and
will do, and leave me to time, to common
sense, and if possible to reason.
Pardon me, Wilhelm replied; he who
knows under what strange forms inclination
insinuates itself into us, must feel concerned
when he foresees that a friend may wish for
that which, in his condition and in his cir-
cumstances, must necessarily bring about mis-
fortune and confusion.
I hope, said Lenardo, that if I know
that the girl is happy, I shall be done with
her. The friends then separated, each in
his own direction.
By a short and pleasant road, Wilhelm had
reached the town to which his letter was ad-
dressed. He found it cheerful and well built;
but an appearance of newness betrayed only
too clearly that it must have recently suffered
from fire. The address of his letter took him
to the last, small portion of the town that had
escaped, to a house of an ancient, solemn
style of architecture. Colored window-panes,
strangely combined together, gave indication
of a cheerful wealth of color within. And the
interior really corresponded with the outside.
In the sombre rooms were seen on all sides
pieces of furniture that might have served
several generations already, interspersed with
but few modern ones. The master of the
house received him kindly, in an apartment
similarly furnished. Many an hour of birth
and death had these clocks already struck,
and all that stood around called to mind that
the past could flow on into the present. The
visitor delivered his letter, but his host laid it
aside without opening it, and in a cheerful
conversation essayed in a diredt way to be-
come acquainted with his guest. They soon
grew confidential, and when Wilhelm, contrary
to his usual habit, allowed his glances to run
observantly about the room, the kind old man
said: My surroundings awaken your inter-
est. You see here how iong a thing can last.
And one must, too, look on such things as the
counterpoise of what changes and alters so
rapidly in the world. This tea-kettle before
now served my parents, and was a witness of
our evening family gatherings. This copper
fire-screen still continues to protedt me from
the fire, which this strong old poker stirs up,
and so it is with everything. I have conse-
quently been able to devote sympathy and
adlivity to many other subjects because I have
not troubled myself further about the chang-
ing of these external requirements that expend
the time and strength of so many people. A
loving attention to what man possesses makes
him rich while he thereby amasses for himself
a wealth of memories in unimportant things.
I have known a young man, who, in taking
leave of his sweetheart, stole from her a pin, with
which he used daily to pin on his cravat, and
adlually brought home from a distant journey
of many years length this cherished and care-
fully preserved objedl. To us other petty
human beings this may well be reckoned as a
Many also, added Wilhelm, perhaps
bring back from a like long journey a thorn
in the heart, that probably they would rather
be free of.
The old man seemed to know nothing
about Lenardos circumstances, although he
had in the meantime opened and read the
letter, for he again returned to his former re-
Attachment to what we possess, he con-
tinued, in many instances gives us the great-
est energy. To this kind of selfishness I owe
the saving of my house. When the town was
on fire, those too, who were with me, wanted
to run away and escape. I forbade it, or-

dered windows and doors to be shut, and with '
several of my neighbors turned to deal with i
the flames. Our efforts were successful in sav-
ing unscathed this corner of the town. The
next morning everything in my house stood
as you see it, and as it has stood almost a hun-
dred years.
With all that, said Wilhelm, you will
confess that man cannot resist changes that
time brings about.
Granted, said the old man; but still he
who has kept himself longest has also achieved
something. Nay, we are even able to preserve
and make sure beyond the term of our exist-
ence : we hand down knowledge, we transfer
tastes just as well as property; and as it is for
me chiefly a question of the latter, I have on
this account for a long time been wonderfully
cautious, and hit on quite peculiar expedients;
but only of late have I succeeded in seeing
my desire fulfilled. Usually the son scatters
abroad what the father has collected, collects
something different, or in different manner.
But if we are able to wait for the grandson, for
the new generation, then the same inclina-
tions, the same objedls come to light. And
thus at last through the interest of our peda-
gogue-friends, I have got hold of a fine young
man, who if possible is more tenacious of heir-
looms than myself, and feels a strong bent for
curious things. He has entirely gained my
confidence through the strenuous efforts by
which he succeeded in averting the fire from
our house; he has doubly and trebly earned
the treasure, the possession of which I think
of bequeathing to him; nay, it is already
handed over to him, and since that time our
store has been increased in a wonderful way. j
Yet not all that you see here is ours; rather,
just as at a pawnbrokers you behold many an
alien jewel, so I can also point out to you
some valuables, which under the most diverse
circumstances have been deposited here for
better keeping.
Wilhelm thought of the splendid casket,
which in any case he did not like to carry
about with him on journeys, and he did not
refrain from showing it to his friend. The
old man looked at it attentively, named the
time when it must have been made, and
showed him something similar. Wilhelm
then mooted the point whether it might be
The old man thought not.
I believe indeed,he said, that it could
be done, without any particular damage; but,
' since you have obtained it by such a strange ac-
: cident, you ought to try your fortune with it.
For if you are born to good luck, and if this
casket betokens anything, then in time the
key must be found for it, and just where you
expedt it least.
There are probably such cases, replied
I have myself experienced several, an-
swered the old man, and here you see the
most remarkable one before you. For thirty
years I possessed the body of this ivory cruci-
fix with head and feet all of one piece; for its
subjedl, as well as its most exquisite art, it was
carefully locked up in my most precious drawer.
About ten years ago, I received the cross be-
longing to it, with the inscription, and I let
myself be persuaded to have the arms put on,
by the cleverest carver of our time; yet how
far was the good man behind his predecessor !
Still, it might pass, more for edifying con-
templation than for admiration of the work-
manship. Now, only think of my delight!
A short time ago I received the original, gen-
uine arms, as you here see them, fitted on in
the loveliest accord And in my rapture at
so happy a coincidence, I cannot refrain from
recognizing in this the destinies of the Chris-
tian religion, which, often enough divided and
scattered, must yet at last meet again at the
Wilhelm admired the image and its strange
recombination. Ishall follow your advice,
he added; let the casket remain shut, until
the key has been found, even if it should lie
by to the end of my life.
He who lives long, said the4 old man,
j sees many things gathered together, and
many dispersed.
The young joint-owner just then entered,
and Wilhelm declared his intention of in-
trusting the casket to their keeping. A
large book was now brought, and the prop-
erty intrusted was entered; a receipt was
made out with the observance of many cere-
monies and stipulations. It was, in point of
fadt, expressed in favor of anyone who pre-
sented it, but would be honored only on a
special sign agreed upon with the receiver.
When this was all completed, the contents
of the letter were considered, the reception of
the good Felix being first discussed, in which
matter the elderly friend, without more ado,
propounded certain maxims, which ought to
form the basis of education.
All life, all adtivity, all art must be pre-

ceded by handiwork, that can only be ac-
quired in a limited sphere. A correCt knowl-
edge and practice give a higher culture than
half-knowledge in hundredfold. In the place
that I have indicated to you all activities
have been isolated; the pupils are tested at
every step; thereby a man finds out whither
his nature really tends, or if he is turning
with confused wishes, now this way, now that.
Wise men allow the boy to find at hand what
suits him; they cut off the by-roads along
which men will only too easily stray away
from their vocation.
In the next place, he continued, I
venture to hope that, from that grandly based
centre, they will guide you upon the road to
where that good girl will be found, who has
made such a wonderful impression upon your
friend, who by dint of moral feeling and re-
flection has so highly enhanced the value of
an innocent, unfortunate creature that he has
been compelled to make her existence the end
and aim of his life. I hope that you will be
able to set him at rest; for Providence pos-
sesses a thousand means of raising the fallen,
and setting up those bowed down. Our des-
tiny often looks like a fruit-tree in winter.
Who would think from its pitiable aspedt that
those rigid boughs, those rough twigs could
next spring again be green, bloom, and even
bear fruit ? Yet we hope it, we know it.

Our pilgrims had performed the journey
according to programme, and prosperously
reached the frontier of the province in which
they were to- learn so many wonderful things.
On their first entry they beheld a most fertile
region, the gentle slopes of which were favor-
able to agriculture, its higher mountains to
sheep-feeding, and its broad valleys to the
rearing of cattle. It was shortly before the
harvest, and everything was in the greatest
abundance; still, what surprised them from
the outset, was that they saw neither women
nor men, but only boys and youths busy get-
ting ready for a prosperous harvest, and even
making friendly preparations for a joyous har-
vest-home. They greeted now one, and now
another, and inquired about the master, of
whose whereabouts no one could give an ac-
count. The address of their letter was: To
the Master or to the Three, and this too the
boys could not explain; however, they re-
ferred the inquirers to an overseer, who was
just preparing to mount his horse. They ex-
plained their objedt; Felixs frank bearing
seemed to please him: and so they rode to-
gether along the road.
Wilhelm had soon observed that a great
diversity prevailed in the cut and color of
the clothing, which gave a peculiar aspedt to
the whole of the little community. He was
just on the point of asking his companion
about this when another strange sight was
displayed to him: all the children, howsoever
they might be occupied, stopped their work,
and turned, with peculiar yet various ges-
tures, towards the party riding past; and it
was easy to infer that their objedt was the over-
seer. The youngest folded their arms cross-
wise on the breast, and looked cheerfully to-
wards the sky; the intermediate ones held
their arms behind them, and looked smiling
upon the ground; the third sort stood eredt
and boldly; with arms at the side, they turned
the head to the right, and placed themselves
in a row, instead of remaining alone, like the
others, where they were first seen.
Accordingly, when they halted and dis-
mounted, just where several children had
ranged themselves in various attitudes and
were being inspedted by the overseer, Wil-
helm asked the meaning of these gestures.
Felix interposed, and said cheerfully:
What position have I to take, then?
In any case, answered the intendant.

Wilhelm Master's Travels.
at first the arms across the breast, and look-
ing seriously and gladly upward, without
turning your glance. He obeyed; however
he soon exclaimed: This does not please me
particularly; I see nothing overhead ; does it
last long? But yes, indeed, he exclaimed
joyfully, I see two hawks flying from west
to east; that must be a good omen
It depends on how you take to it, how
you behave yourself, rejoined the former;
now go and mingle with them, just as they
mingle with each other.
He made a sign, the children forsook their
attitudes, resumed their occupations or went
on playing as before.
Will you, and can you, Wilhelm now
asked, explain tome that which causes my
wonder? I suppose that these gestures, these
positions, are greetings, with which they wel-
come you.
Just so, answered the other; greetings,
that tell me at once at what stage of cultiva-
tion each of these boys stands.
But could you, Wilhelm added, ex-
plain to me the meaning of the graduation ?
For that it is such, is easy to see.
That is the part of better people than
me, answered the other; but I can assure
you of this much, that they are no empty
grimaces, and that, on the contrary, we impart
to the children, not indeed the highest, but
still a guiding and intelligible explanation;
but at the same time we command each to
keep and cherish for himself what we may
have chosen to impart for the information of
each: they may not chat about it with
strangers, nor amongst themselves, and thus
the teaching is modified in a hundred ways.
Besides this the secrecy has very great advan-
tages; for if we tell people immediately and
perpetually the reason of everything, they
think that there is nothing behind. To cer-
tain secrets, even if they may be known, we
have to show deference by concealment and
silence, for this tends to modesty and good
I understand you, said Wilhelm. Why
should we not also apply spiritually what is so
necessary in bodily matters? But perhaps in
another respeCt you can satisfy my curiosity.
I am surprised at the great variety in the cut
and color of their clothes, and yet I do not
see all kinds of color, but a few only, and
these in all their shades, from the brightest to
the darkest. Still I observe, that in this
there cannot be meant any indication of de-
grees of either age or merit; since the small-
est and biggest boys mingled together may be
alike in cut and color, whilst those who are
alike in gestures do not agree with one another
in dress.
As concerns this, too, their companion
replied, I cannot explain any further ; yet I
shall be much mistaken if you depart hence
without being enlightened about all that you
may wish to know.
They were now going in search of the mas-
ter, whom they thought that they had found;
but now a stranger could not but be struck by the
faCt, that the deeper they got into the coun-
try the more they were met by a harmonious
sound of singing. Whatsoever the boys set
about, in whatever work they were found en-
gaged, they were forever singing, and in faCt it
seemed that the songs were specially adapted to
each particular occupation, and in similar cases
always the same. If several children were in
any place, they would accompany each other
in turns. Towards evening they came upon
some dancing, their steps being animated and
guided by choruses. Felix from his horse
chimed in with his voice, and, in truth, not
badly; Wilhelm was delighted with this enter-
tainment, which made the neighborhood so
lively. I suppose, he observed to his com-
panion, you devote a great deal of care to
this kind of instruction, for otherwise this
ability would not be so widely diffused, or so
perfectly developed.
Just so, replied the other; with us the
art of singing forms the first step in education;
everything else is subservient to it, and at-
tained by means of it. With us the simplest
enjoyment, as well as the simplest instruction,
is enlivened and impressed by singing; and
even what we teach in matters of religion and
morals is communicated by the method of
song. Other advantages for independent ends
are direCtly allied; for, whilst we practise the
children in writing down by symbols on the
slate the notes which they produce, and then,
according to the indication of these signs, in
reproducing them in their throats, and more-
over in adding the text, they exercise at the
same time the hand, ear, and eye, and attain
orthography and calligraphy quicker than you
would believe; and, finally, since all this
must be practised and copied according to
pure metre and accurately fixed time, they
learn to understand much sooner than in other
ways the high value of measure and compu-
tation. On this account, of all imaginable

means, we have chosen music as the first ele-
ment of our education, for from this equally
easy roads radiate in every direction.
Wilhelm sought to inform himself further,
and did not hide his astonishment at hearing
no instrumental music.
We do not negledt it, replied the other,
but we practise it in a special place, en-
closed in the most charming mountain-valley;
and then again we take care that the different
instruments are taught in places lying far
apart. Especially are the discordant notes of
beginners banished to certain solitary spots,
where they can drive no one crazy; for you
will yourself confess, that in well-regulated
civil society scarcely any more miserable nui-
sance is to be endured than when the neigh-
borhood inflidts upon us a beginner on the
flute or on the violin. Our beginners, from
their own laudable notion of wishing to be an
annoyance to none, go voluntarily for a
longer or shorter period into the wilds, and,
isolated there, vie with one another in attain-
ing the merit of being allowed to draw nearer
to the inhabited world; on which account they
are, from time to time, allowed to make an
attempt at drawing nearer, which seldom fails,
because in these, as in our other modes of
education, we venture adtually to develop
and encourage a sense of shame and diffi-
dence. I am sincerely glad that your son has
got a good voice; the rest will be effected all
the more easily.
They had now reached a place where Felix
was to remain, and make trial of his surround-
ings, until they were disposed to grant a formal
admission. They already heard from afar a
cheerful singing; it was a game, which the
boys were now enjoying in their play-hour. A
general chorus resounded, in which each mem-
ber of a large circle joined heartily, clearly,
and vigorously in his part, obeying the direc-
tions of the superintendent. The latter,
however, often took the singers by surprise,
by suspending with a signal the chorus-sing-
ing, and bidding some one or other single
performer, by a touch of his baton, to adapt
alone some suitable song to the expiring tune
and the passing idea. Most of them already
showed considerable ability, a few who failed
in the performance willingly paid their forfeit,
without exactly being made a laughing-stock.
Felix was still child enough to mix at once
among them and came tolerably well out of
the trial. Thereupon the first style of greeting
was conceded to him: he forthwith folded his

arms on his breast, looked upwards, and with
such a droll expression withal, that it was
quite plain that no hidden meaning in it had
as yet occurred to him.
The pleasant spot, the kind reception, the
merry games, all pleased the boy so well,
that he did not feel particularly sad when he
saw his father depart; he looked almost more
wistfully at the horse as it was led away; yet
he had no difficulty in understanding, when he
was informed that he could not keep it in the
present locality. On the other hand, they
promised him that he should find, if not the
same, at all events an equally lively and well-
trained one when he did not expedt it.
As the superior could not be found, the over-
seer said: 1 must now leave you, to pursue
my own avocations; but still I will take you
to the Three who preside over holy things:
your letter is also addressed to them, and to-
gether they stand in place of the superior.
Wilhelm would have liked to learn before-
hand about the holy things, but the other re-
plied: The Three in return for the confi-
dence with which you have left your son with us
will certainly, in accordance with wisdom and
justice, reveal to you all that is most necessary.
The visible objedts of veneration, which I
have called holy things, are included within a
particular boundary, are not mingled with
anything, or disturbed by anything; only
at certain times of the year, the pupils,
according to the stages of their educa-
tion, are admitted to them, in order that
they may be instructed historically and
through their senses; for in this way they carry
off with them an impression, enough for them
to feed upon for a long time in the exercise
of their duty.
Wilhelm now stood at the entrance of a
forest-valley, enclosed by lofty walls; on a
given signal a small door was opened, and a
serious, respedtable-looking man received our
friend. He found himself within a large and
beautifully verdant enclosure, shaded with
trees and bushes of every kind, so that he
could scarcely see some stately walls and fine
buildings through the dense and lofty natural
growth; his friendly reception by the Three,
who came up by-and-bye, ultimately concluded
in a conversation, to which each contributed
something of his own, but the substance of
which we shall put together in brief.
Since you have intrusted your son to us,
they said, it is our duty to let you see more
deeply into our methods of proceeding. You
have seen many external things, that do not
carry their significance with them all at once;
which of these do you most wish to have ex-
plained ?
I have remarked certain seemly yet
strange gestures and obeisances, the signifi-
cance of which I should like to learn; with
you no doubt what is external has reference to
what is within, and vice versa; let me under-
stand this relation.
Well-bred and healthy children possess a
great deal; Nature has given to each every-
thing that he needs for time and continuance:
our duty is to develop this; often it is better
developed by itself. But one thing no one
brings into the world, and yet it is that upon
which depends everything through which a
man becomes a man on every side. If you
can find it out yourself, speak out.
Wilhelm bethought himself for a short time,
and then shook his head. After a suitable
pause, they exclaimed : Veneration
Wilhelm was startled.
Veneration, they repeated. It is want-
ing in all, and perhaps in yourself. You have
seen three kinds of gestures, and we teach a
threefold veneration, which when combined
to form a whole, only then attains to its high-
est power and effedl. The first is veneration
for that which is above us. That gesture, the
arms folded on the breast, a cheerful glance
towards the sky, that is precisely what we pre-
scribe to our untutored children, at the same
time requiring witness of them that there is a
God up above, who reflects and reveals Him-
self in our parents, tutors and superiors. The
second, veneration for that which is below us.
The hands folded on the back as if tied to-
gether, the lowered, smiling glance, bespeak
that we have to regard the earth well and
cheerfully; it gives us an opportunity to main-
tain ourselves; it affords unspeakable joys ; but
it brings disproportionate sufferings. If one
hurts ones self bodily, whether faultily or in-
nocently; if others hurt one, intentionally or
accidentally; if earthly chance does one any
harm, let that be well thought of, for such
danger accompanies us all our life long. But
from this condition we deliver our pupil as
soon as possible, diredtly we are convinced
that the teachings of this stage have made a
sufficient impression upon him; but then we
bid him be a man, look to his companions,
and guide himself with reference to them.
Now he stands eredl and bold, yet not sel-
fishly isolated; only in a union with his equals

does he present a front towards the world.
We are unable to add anything further.
I see it all, replied Wilhelm; it is prob-
ably on this account that the multitude is so
inured to vice, because it only takes pleasure
in the element of ill-will and evil speech ; he
who indulges in this soon becomes indifferent
to God, contemptuous towards the world, and
a hater of his fellows; but the true, genuine,
indispensable feeling of self-respedl is ruined
in conceit and presumption.
Allow me, nevertheless, Wilhelm went
on, to make one objection: has it not ever
been held that the fear evinced by savage na-
tions in the presence of mighty natural
phenomena, and other inexplicable forebod-
ing events, is the germ from which a higher
feeling, a purer disposition, should gradually
be developed ?
To this the other replied: Fear, no
doubt, is consonant with nature, but not
reverence; people fear a known or unknown
powerful being: the strong one tries to grap-
ple with it, the weak to avoid it; both wish
to get rid of it, and feel happy when in a
short space they have conquered it, when
their nature in some measure has regained its
freedom and independence. The natural
man repeats this operation a million times
during his life; from fear he strives after lib-
erty, from liberty he is driven back into fear,
and does not advance one step further. To
fear is easy, but unpleasant; to entertain
reverence is difficult but pleasing. Man de-
termines himself unwillingly to reverence, or
rather never determines himself to it; it is a
loftier sense which must be imparted to his
nature, and which is self-developed only in
the most exceptionally gifted ones, whom
therefore from all time we have regarded as
saints, as gods. In this consists the dignity,
in this the function of all genuine religions,
of which also there exist only three, accord-
ing to the objedls towards which they diredt
their worship.
The men paused, Wilhelm remained silent
for a while in thought; as he did not feel
himself equal to pointing these strange words,
he begged the worthy men to continue their
remarks, which too they at once consented
to do.
No religion, they said, which is based
on fear, is esteemed among us. With the
reverence which a man allows himself to en-
tertain, whilst he accords honor, he may pre-
serve his own honor; he is not at discord with
himself, as in the other case. The religion
which, rests on reverence for that which is
above us, we call the ethnical one; it is the
religion of nations, and the first happy re-
demption from a base fear; all so-called
heathen religions are of this kind, let them
have what names they will. The second reli-
gion, which is founded on that reverence
which we have for what is like ourselves, we
call the Philosophic; for the philosopher,
who places himself in the middle, must draw
downward to himself all that is higher, and
upward to himself all that is lower, and only
in this central position does he deserve the
name of the sage. Now, whilst he penetrates
his relations to his fellows, and therefore to
the whole of humanity, and his relations to
all other earthly surroundings, necessary or
accidental, in the cosmical sense he only lives
in the truth. But we must now speak of the
third religion, based on reverence for that
which is below us; we call it the Christian
one, because this disposition of mind is chiefly
revealed in it; it is the last one which
humanity could and was bound to attain. Yet
what was not demanded for it ? not merely to
leave earth below, and claim a higher origin,
but to recognize as divine even humility and
poverty, scorn and contempt, shame and mis-
ery, suffering and death; nay, to revere and
make lovable even sin and crime, not as hin-
drances but as furtherances of holiness! Of
this there are indeed found traces throughout
all time; but a track is not a goal, and this
having once been reached, humanity cannot
turn backwards; and it may be maintained,
that the Christian religion having once ap-
peared, can never disappear again; having
once been divinely embodied, cannot again be
Which of these religions do you then pro-
fess more particularly? said Wilhelm.
All three, answered the others, for, in
point of fadt, they together present the true
religion; from these three reverences out-
springs the highest reverence, reverence for
ones self, and the former again develop
themselves from the latter, so that man attains
to the highest he is capable of reaching, in
order that he may consider himself the best
that God and nature have produced; nay,
that he may be able to remain on this height
without being drawn through conceit or
egoism into what is base.
Such a profession of faith, thus devel-
oped, does not estrange me, replied Wilhelm;

it agrees with all that one learns here and
there in life, only that the very thing unites
you that severs the others.
To this the others replied: This confes-
sion is already adhered to by a large part of
the world, though unconsciously.
How so, and where? asked Wilhelm.
In the Creed! exclaimed the others,
loudly; for the first article is ethnical, and
belongs to all nations: the second is Christian,
for those struggling against sufferings and
glorified in sufferings; the third finally teaches
a spiritual communion of saints, to wit, of
those in the highest degree good and wise:
ought not therefore in fairness the three
divine Persons, under whose likeness and
name such convidlions and promises are ut-
tered, to pass also for the highest Unity?
I thank you, replied the other, for hav-
ing so clearly and coherently explained this to
meto whom, as a full-grown man, the three
dispositions of mind are not new; and when
I recall, that you teach the children these
high truths, first through material symbols,
then through a certain symbolic analogy, and
finally develop in them the highest interpre-
tation, I must needs highly approve of it.
Exadtly so, replied the former; but
now you must still learn something more, in
order that you may be convinced- that your
son is in the best hands. However, let this
matter rest for the morning hours; rest and
refresh yourself, so that, contented and
humanly complete, you may accompany us
farther into the interior to-morrow.
Led by the hand of the eldest, our friend
now entered through a handsome portal into
a room, or rather, eight-sided hall, which
was so richly adorned with pidlures, that it
caused astonishment to the visitor. He easily
understood that all that he saw must have an
important meaning, though he himself was
not at once able to guess it. He was just on
the point of asking his conductor about it,
when the latter invited him to enter a side
gallery, which, open on one side, surrounded
a spacious, richly planted flower-garden. The
wall, however, attracted the eye more than
this brilliant adornment of nature, for it was
painted throughout its whole length, and the
visitor could not walk far along it without
remarking that the sacred books of the Israel-
ites had furnished the subjects of these
It is here, said the eldest, that we
teach that religion, which for the sake of
brevity, I have called the ethnical. Its in-
ternal substance is found in the history of the
world, as its external envelope in the events
themselves. In the re-occurrence of the des-
tinies of entire nations it is, properly speak-
ing, grasped.
You have, I see, said Wilhelm, con
ferred the honor on the Israelitish people, and
made its history the foundation of this ex-
position, or rather you have made it the
principal subjedt of the same.
Just as you see, rejoined the old man;
for you will observe that in the plinths and
friezes are represented not so much synchron-
istic as synchronistic* adlions and events,
whilst among all nations there occur tradi-
tions of similar and equal import. Thus,
while in the principal field, Abraham is visited
by his gods in the form of handsome youths,
you see up there in the frieze, Apollo among
the shepherds of Admetus; from which we
may learn that when the gods appear to men,
they mostly go about unrecognized among
The two observers went farther. Wilhelm
found for the most part well-known subjedls,
yet represented in a more lively and signifi-
cant manner than he had been accustomed to
see them before. In reference to a few mat-
ters he asked for some explanation, in doing
which he could not refrain from inquiring
again, why they had seledled the Israelitish
history before all others?
Hereupon the eldest answered: Among
all heathen religions (for such is the Israelitish
also) this one has great advantages, of which
I shall mention only a few. Before the eth-
nic tribunal, before the tribunal of the God
of nations, it is not the question, whether it is
the best or the most excellent nation, but
only whether it still exists, Avhether it has
maintained itself. The Israelitish nation has
never been worth much, as its leaders, judges,
rulers and prophets have a thousand times
thrown in its teeth; it possesses few virtues,
and most of the faults of other nations; but
in independence, endurance, courage, and if
all that were no longer of account, in tough-
ness, it cannot find its equal. It is the most
of similar signification.

tenacious people on the face of the earth !
It is, it has been, and will be to glorify the
name of Jehovah through all time. We have,
therefore, set it up as a pattern, as a master-
piece, to which the others only serve as a
It is not becoming in me to argue with
you, replied Wilhelm, since you are in a
position to teach me. Proceed, therefore, to
explain to me the other advantages of this
nation, or rather of its history, of its re-
One principal advantage, answered the
other, consists in the excellent colle<5tion of
its sacred books. They are combined so hap-
pily, that from the most heterogeneous ele-
ments there results a deceptive unity. They
are complete enough to satisfy, fragmentary
enough to stimulate interest; sufficiently bar-
baric to excite challenge, sufficiently tender
to soothe; and how many other opposing
qualities might we extol in these books, in
this Book!
The series of the principal pidlures, as well
as the connedlion of the smaller ones which
accompanied them above and below, gave the
guest so much to think of, that he scarcely
listened to the explanatory remarks by which
his companion seemed rather to divert his
attention from, than to fix it on the subjedls.
In the meanwhile the other took occasion
to say: I must here mention one advantage
of the Israelitish religion: that it does not
embody its God in any given form, and there-
fore leaves us at liberty to give him a worthy
human figure; also, on the other hand, to de-

pi61 base idolatry by the forms of beasts and
Our friend, moreover, in a short stroll
through these halls, had again called to mind
the history of the world: there was something
new to him in regard to the circumstance.
Thus, through the juxtaposition of the pic-
tures, through the reflections of his com-
panion, fresh ideas had dawned upon his
mind; and he was glad that Felix by means j
of a visible representation of such merit j
should appropriate to himself for his whole !
life long, as vividly as if they had actually
happened in his own time, those grand, signi-
ficant, and inimitable events. He looked at
these pictures at last only with the eyes of the
child, and in this aspect he felt perfectly satis-
fied with them. And so strolling on they
reached those sad, confused periods, and
finally the destruction of the City and the
Temple, the murder, banishment and slavery
of whole multitudes of this obstinate nation.
Its subsequent destinies were represented by
discreet allegory, since a historic and real
representation of them lies beyond the limits
of the noble art.
Here the gallery, through which they had
walked, terminated abruptly, and Wilhelm
wondered at finding himself already at the
I find, he said to his guide, an
omission in this historical walk. You have
destroyed the Temple of Jerusalem, and scat-
tered the nation, without introducing the
Divine Man, who shortly before that very
time taught in it, and to whom, too, shortly
before they would give no hearing.
To do this, as you demand, would have
been a mistake. The life of that Divine
Man, to whom you allude, stands in no con-
nection with the world-history of his time.
His was a private life, his doctrine a doctrine
for individuals. What publicly concerns the
masses of the people and its members belongs
to the history of the world, to the religion of
the world, which we regard as the first. What
inwardly concerns the individual belongs to
the second religion, to the religion of the
wise; such was the one that Christ taught and
practised as long as he went about on earth.
Wherefore the external ends here, and I now
open to you the internal.
A door opened, and they entered a similar
gallery, where Wilhelm at once recognized
the pictures of the second holy writings.
They seemed to be by a different hand from
the first: everything was gentler; forms,
movements, surroundings, light and coloring.
You see here, said his companion, after
they had walked past a part of the pictures,
neither deeds nor events, but miracles and
parables. Here is a new world; a new ex-
terior, different from the former, and an in-
terior, which in that is entirely lacking. By
miracles and parables a new world is opened.
The former make the common extraordinary,
the latter make the extraordinary common.
Have the kindness, replied Wilhelm,
to explain me these few words more circum-
stantially, for I do not feel equal to doing it
You possess a natural mind, replied the
other, although a deep one. Examples will
open it most readily. Nothing is more com-
mon or ordinary than eating and drinking;
on the other hand, it is extraordinary to en-
noble a beverage, or to multiply a meal, so
that it may suffice for a countless number.
Nothing is commoner than illness and bodily
infirmity; but to cure, to alleviate these by
spiritual or spiritual-seeming means, is extra-
ordinary: and just in this consists the marvel
of the miraclethat the common and extra-
ordinary, the possible and the impossible,
become one. In the similitude, in the para-
ble, the reverse is the case: here you have
mind, insight, the idea of the sublime, the
extraordinary, the unattainable. When this
is embodied in a common, ordinary, intel-
ligible image, so that it confronts us as living,
present and real, so that we can appropriate,
seize, retain, and converse with it as with one
of our own like: that indeed becomes a
second species of miracle, which is fairly asso-
ciated with the first kind, nay, perhaps, is to
be preferred to it. Here the living doctrine
itself is pronounced, the doctrine that arouses
no dispute. It is no opinion as to what is
right or wrong; it is indisputably right or
wrong itself.
This part of the gallery was shorter, or
rather it was only the fourth part of the en-
closure of the inner courtyard. But while
one cared only to pass along the first, here
one was glad to linger, here one liked to
walk to and fro. The subjects were not so
striking nor so manifold, but so much the
more did they invite inquiry into their deep
and quiet meaning: moreover the two wan-
derers turned at the end of the corridor,
whilst Wilhelm expressed a fear that in fa6t
only the last supper, the last parting of the

Master from his disciples, was reached. He
asked for the remaining part of the story.
In all teaching, replied the elder one,
in all tradition, we are very willing to set
apart only what it is possible to set apart, for
only thereby can the notion of what is signifi-
cant be developed in youth. Life otherwise
mingles and mixes everything together; and
thus we have here the life of that excellent
Man completely separated from its end.
During life he appears as a true philosopher
do not be scandalized at this expression
as a sage, in the highest sense. He stands
firmly to his point; he pursues his own path
unflinchingly, and whilst he draws up to him-
self what is inferior, whilst he allows the
ignorant, the poor, the sick, a share in his wis-
dom, wealth, and power, and thereby seems to
step down to their level; still, on the other
hand, he does not deny his divine origin; he
dares to make himself equal to God, nay, to
declare himself God. In this manner, from
his youth up, he astonishes those who sur-
round him, gains one part of them over to
himself, arouses the other against himself,
and shows all those to whom it is a question
of a certain sublimity in doctrine and life
what they will have to expect from the world.
And thus his lifes journey for the noble part
of humanity is more instructive and fruitful
than his death ; for to the one test every one
is called, but to the other only a few. And
in order that we may pass over all that follows
from this, only look at the touching scene of
the last supper! Here the sage, as always
happens, leaves his followers behind, quite
orphaned, so to say, and whilst he is taking
thought for the good ones, he is at the same
time feeding with them a traitor, who will
bring him and the better ones to destruction.
With these words the elder opened a door,
and Wilhelm was astonished to find himself
again in the first hall of entrance. In the
meantime, they had made, as he could easily
see, the entire circuit of the courtyard.
I was hoping, said Wilhelm, that you
would conduCt me to the end, whilst you are
taking me back to the beginning. This
time I can show you nothing more, said the
elder; we do not let our pupils see more, we
do not explain to them more than what you
have so far passed through: the external and
generally mundane may be imparted to each
from his youth up; the internal and specially
spiritual and mental, only to those who are
growing up to a certain degree of thoughtful-
ness; and the rest, which can be disclosed
only once a year, only to those of whom we
are taking leave. That last form of religion,
which arises from respeCfc for what is below us,
that reverence for what is repugnant, hateful,
and apt to be shunned, we impart to each
only by way of outfit for the world, in order
that he may know where he can find the like,
if need of such should stir within him. I in-
vite you to return after the lapse of a year to
attend our general festival, and to see how far
your son has progressed; at which time too
you shall be initiated into the holy estate of
Allow me one question, replied Wil-
helm; have you then, besides representing
the life of this Divine Man as a pattern of
teaching and imitation, also exalted his suffer-
ings, his death, as a model of sublime en-
By all means, said the elder. We
make no secret of this; but we draw a veil
over these sufferings, just because we honor
them so highly. We hold it for criminal au-
dacity to expose that scaffold of agony, and
the Saint suffering thereupon, to the gaze of
the sun, that hid its face when a reckless world
obtruded this sight upon it; to play, to trifle
with these deep mysteries, in which the divine
depth of suffering lies hidden; to decorate
them, and not to rest until the most holy
seems commonplace and vulgar. Thus much
may suffice for this time to set you at rest
respecting your boy, and convince you thor-
oughly that you will find him again, in one
way or other, more or less developed, yet in
a desirable manner, and at all events not con-
fused, wavering or unsteady.
Wilhelm lingered, looking over the pictures
in the vestibule, wishing to have their meaning
This too, said the elder, we shall con-
tinue to owe you until the year is over. We
do not admit any strangers to the instruction
which we impart to the children during the
interval; but in due time come and listen to
what our best speakers think fit to say publicly
on these subjects.
Soon after this conversation a knock was
heard at the small door. The inspector of
yesterday presented himself; he had led up
Wilhelms horse. And thus our friend took
leave of the Three, who at parting recom-
mended him to the inspector in the following
terms: He is now numbered among the
confidants, and what you have to answer to

his questions is known to you: for he surely I
still wishes to be enlightened about many
things that he has seen and heard with us; j
the measure and purport are not unknown to j
you. Wilhelm had still in fact a few ques- j
tions on his mind, which also he expressed |
forthwith. Wherever they rode by, the chil-
dren ranged themselves as on the day before,
but to-day he saw, although rarely, a boy here
and there who did not salute the inspector as
he rode past, did not look up from his work,
and allowed him to pass by without notice.
Wilhelm now inquired the cause of this, and
what this exception meant.
The other replied thereto: It is in fact
exceedingly significant, for it is the severest
punishment that we inflict upon our pupils;
they are declared unworthy of showing rever-
ence, and compelled to seem rude and uncul-
tured; but they do all that is possible to
rescue themselves from this position, and
apply themselves as quickly as possible to
every duty. Should, however, any hardened
youngster show no readiness to recant, then
he is sent back to his parents with a short but
conclusive report. He who does not learn to
adapt himself to the laws, must leave the
region where they prevail.
Another sight excited to-day as yesterday
the curiosity of the traveller; it was the
variety of color and shape in the clothes of
the pupils. In this there seemed to prevail
no graduated arrangement, for some who
saluted differently were dressed in uniform
style, whilst those who had the same way of
greeting were clad differently. Wilhelm
asked for the cause of this seeming contra-
It is explained thus, replied the other;
namely, that it is a means of finding out
the peculiar disposition of each boy. With
strictness and method in other things, in this
respeCt we allow a certain degree of freedom
to prevail. Within the scope of our stores
of cloths and trimmings, the pupils are al-
lowed to choose any favorite color, and also
within moderate limits to seleCt both shape
and cut; this we scrupulously observe, for by
the color you may find out peoples bent of
mind, and by the cut, the style of life. Yet
there is one special peculiarity of human
nature which makes a more accurate judgment
to some extent difficult; this is the spirit of
imitationthe tendency to associate. It is
very seldom that a pupil lights on anything
that has not occurred before: for the most
part they choose something familiar, what
they see just before them. Still, this con-
sideration does not remain unprofitable to us;
by means of such external signs, they ally
themselves to this or that party, join in here
or there, and thus more general dispositions
distinguish themselves; we learn to where
each inclines, and to what example he assimi-
lates himself. Now, cases have been seen, in
which the dispositions inclined towards the
general, in which one fashion would extend
itself to all, and every peculiarity tend to-
wards losing itself in the totality. In a gentle
way we try to put a stop to a tendency of this
kind, we allow our stores to run short; one or
other kind of stuff or ornament is no more
to be had. We substitute something new,
something attractive; through light colors,
and short close cut, we attract the cheerful
ones; by sombre shades and comfortable,
ample suits, the thoughtful ones, and thus
gradually establish a balance. For we are
altogether opposed to uniform; it hides the
character, and, more than any other disguise,
conceals the peculiarities of the children from
the sight of their superiors.
With such and other conversation, Wilhelm
arrived at the frontier of the district, and
precisely at the point where the traveller, ac-
cording to his old friends direction, ought to
leave it, in order to pursue his own private
On parting, the inspector first of all ob-
served, that Wilhelm might now wait until
the grand festival for all their sympathizers in
various ways was announced. To this all the
parents would be invited, and able pupils be
dismissed to the chances of free life. After
that, he was informed, he might at his leisure
enter the other districts, where in accordance
with peculiar principles, special instruction
amidst the most perfe6t surroundings, was im-
parted and pra<5tised.
To flatter the taste of the worthy public,
which for some time has derived pleasure in
being entertained piece-meal, we had at first
thought of presenting the following story in
several sections. Yet, considered from the
point of view of ideas, feelings and events, its
internal structure required a continuous treat-
ment. May it attain its aim, and at the same

time may it in the end become clear how the
personages of this seemingly isolated episode
have been most intimately bound up with
those whom we already know and love.
The Man
URING the entry of
the major into the
manor house, his
niece Hilaria stood
outside on the stair-
case that led up to
the castle, ready to
receive him. He
scarcely recognized
her, for by this time
she had grown taller
and more beautiful. She rushed towards him;
he pressed her to his breast with the feelings
of a father, and she hurried upstairs to her
To the baroness, his sister, he was equally
welcome, and when Hilaria went quickly
away to prepare breakfast, the major cheer-
fully observed:
This time I can be brief, and say that our
business is done. Our brother, the marshal,
sees pretty clearly that he cannot get on with
either tenants or superintendents. He makes
over the estates, in his lifetime, to us and to
our children. The annual income that he
stipulates for himself is heavy, it is true; but
we can well afford to give it to him; we still
gain a good deal for the present, and in the
future, all. The new arrangement will soon
be in order. Though every moment I expeCt
my retirement, I still see before me an aCtive
life, that may be of decided advantage to us
and ours. We shall quietly look on whilst
our children grow up, and it depends upon
us, upon them, to hasten their union.
That would be all very well, said the
baroness, if only I had not to reveal you a
secret, of which I myself have only lately be-
come aware. Hilarias heart is no longer
free; from that quarter your son has little or
nothing to hope.
What do you say? exclaimed the major;
is it possible! Whilst we are giving our-
selves every possible trouble to manage with
economy, does inclination play us such a
trick? Tell me, my dear, tell me quickly
who is it that could captivate Hilarias heart;
or is it already as bad as that? Is it not per-
haps a transient impression, that one may
hope to extinguish again?
You must first think and guess awhile,
replied the baroness, thereby increasing his
impatience. This had already reached its
climax, when Hilaria, entering together with
the servants, who were bringing the breakfast,
rendered an immediate solution of the riddle
The major himself fancied that he now
looked upon the beautiful child with other eyes
than shortly before. He almost felt jealous
of the fortunate one, whose image could im-
press itself on so beautiful a soul. He could
not enjoy his breakfast, and he paid no atten-
tion to the fa<5t that everything had been
arranged precisely as he liked it best, and as he
had formerly been used to wish and require it.
Amidst this silence and reserve, Hilaria
herself almost lost her cheerfulness. The
baroness felt embarrassed, and drew her daugh-
ter towards the piano, but her animated play-
ing, full of feeling, could scarcely win a little
applause from the major. He was anxious to
see the beautiful child and the breakfast de-
part, the sooner the better, and the baroness
had to make up her mind to break off, and
propose to her brother a walk in the garden.
They were scarcely alone, when the major
urgently repeated his former question; upon
which his sister after a pause, replied, laugh-
ing :
If you wish to find the fortunate man she
loves, you need not go so far, he is quite
close: it is you she loves.
The major stood thunderstruck; then he
It would be a very unseasonable jest, if
you wished to persuade me of what in real
earnest would make me no less embarrassed
than unhappy. For although I need time to
recover from my astonishment, yet I foresee
at a glance how much our relations must be
disturbed by such an unexpected circumstance.
The only thing that consoles me, is the con-
viction that inclinations of this kind are only
apparent, that self-deception lurks in the back-
ground, and that a genuinely good soul will
often recover at once from mistakes of this

kind of its own accord, or at least with a little
assistance from sensible persons.
I am not of this opinion, said the
baroness; for, to judge by all the symptoms,
it is a very serious sentiment by which Hilaria
is penetrated.
Anything so unnatural I should not have
attributed to her natural charadter, replied
the major.
It is not so unnatural, said his sister;
in my own youth I recoiled! a passion even
for an older man than you are. You are fifty
years old; that at all events is by no means
too much for a German, although perhaps
other more lively nations grow old earlier.
But how will you prove your surmise?
said the major.
It is no surmise, it is a certainty. The
details you shall learn by-and-bye.
Hilaria joined them, and the major against
his will felt changed again. Her presence
seemed to him still more amiable and dearer
than before; her behavior seemed to him more
affectionate, and he already began to give
credence to his sisters words. The sensation
was in the highest degree agreeable to him,
although he would neither acknowledge nor
divulge it. Hilaria was indeed very amiable,
whilst in her demeanor shyness towards a
lover and the easy familiarity towards an uncle
were most intimately combined; for she
really loved him, and with her whole heart.
The garden was in its full spring glory, and
the major, whilst he saw so many old trees
clothing themselves with leaves, was fain to
believe in the return of his own spring-time.
And who would not have been tempted to do
so in the presence of the most amiable of girls.
In this manner the day was spent together;
all domestic incidents passed off in the great-
est harmony; in the evening after dinner
Hilaria again sat down to the piano. The
major listened with other ears than in the
morning; one melody was entwined with
another, one song conned!ed itself with the
next, and midnight scarcely availed to break
up the little party.
When the major reached his room, he found
everything arranged in accordance with his old
accustomed convenience; even certain en-
gravings, over which he had been wont to lin-
ger, had been brought from other rooms and
hung up here; and now that he had once be-
gun to notice, he saw himself attended to and
flattered in every single little detail.
This time he required only a few hours
sleep; his vital energies were awake early.
But now he suddenly perceived that a new
order of things would entail a good deal of
inconvenience. To his old groom, who also
fulfilled the duties of footmen and valet, he
had never spoken an angry word for many
years; for everything had gone on in its usual
way with the strid!est method: the horses
were attended to, and the clothes ready
brushed at the proper hour, but his master had
risen sooner, and nothing was ready.
Another circumstance combined with this
to increase the impatience and a sort of bad-
humor on the part of the major. At other
times everything had been correct with him-
self and with his servant; but now when he
stepped before the looking-glass, he did not
find himself as he wished to be. He could
not deny a few gray hairs, and a few wrinkles
also seemed to have put in an appearance.
He rubbed and powdered more than usual,
and yet had at last to leave things as they
were. Neither was he satisfied with his dress,
or with its plainness. There were always a
few threads still on his coat, and a little dust
on his boots. The old servant did not know
what to say, and was astonished at seeing so
transformed a master before him.
In spite of all these obstacles the major
was early enough in the garden. Hilaria,
whom he hoped to find there, he actually did
find. She brought a nosegay for him, and he
had not the courage, as at other times, to kiss
her, and to press her to his heart. He found
himself in the pleasantest embarrassment in
the world, and abandoned himself to his feel-
ings, without thinking whither they might
lead him.
The baroness also was not slow in putting
in an appearance, and, as she showed her
brother a note that a messenger had just
brought her, she exclaimed: You cannot
guess whom this letter is to announce!
Then only tell me quickly! replied the
major; and he was informed that an old
theatrical friend happened to be travelling at
no great distance from the manor, and thought
of looking in for a moment.
I am curious to see him again, said the
major; he is no longer a boy, and yet I
hear that he still continues to play youthful
He must be ten years older than you,
replied the baroness.
At the very least, replied the major,
so far as I can recoiled!.